#his publicist is the real hero around here

[quicksilverlightning]

The AMA Thread

I AM HERE – to answer your questions!

Proof it’s me. Last known picture of my publicist’s happy days. The bunker I’m staying in so she can’t kill me when this goes viral. Ask me anything!

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ob-vi-ous-ly

What is your Quirk?

That's a secret!

tez-la-coil

What’s your favorite pizza topping?

Pepperoni! I can’t eat pizza very often these days though.

HonoriaB

Hi All Might! Big fan with a question I’ve wanted to ask for a long time; what is your stance on vigilantes?

I cannot legally endorse vigilantism; however, neither can I advocate idly standing by when someone needs help. If you can do something without breaking the law, do! If you can help someone without placing yourself in harm’s way, do! You don’t need to be a hero or a vigilante to make a difference.

ColorObscura

How would you advise ordinary people to make a difference?

There are any number of things you can do - volunteer, recycle, teach, learn, be present and active in your own life. Be a listener. Be a sibling. Be a friend. These things matter more than you may realize, for all that they seem small.

 MabelDidNothingWrong

Mr. All Might Sir, are you aware of the mountains of explicit fanart featuring yourself?

Yes.

MabelDidNothingWrong

Okay, follow-up question, how do you feel about the mountains of explicit fanart featuring yourself?

I accept that it’s par for the course in this line of work and I’m glad it makes you all happy. That said, actually seeing it weirds me out.

 Koreh57

What was your working relationship with your publicist like before this AMA thread?

We had a mutually beneficial relationship; I did stupid things, she spun them into positive things. The incident at Kamino Ward has had her running ragged – I have a very generous severance package prepared for the day it all becomes too much.

 pumpkins_and_spice

During your segment on Quirky Kitchen, you talked a little bit about your gastrectomy – this is a procedure that I may be going through myself in a few months. Do you have any advice or tips that you would be willing to pass on? What were the first few weeks of not having a stomach like?

First of all, let me say that I’m very sorry you’re going through this. There is still life to be had after, but it’s a massive change and a struggle to reach something approaching normalcy after something like this.

Your scenario will likely depend on whether you’re having a full or partial removal; either way, one of the best things you can do to begin preparing is to start collecting recipes. Get your friends and family to help you – make it a communal effort! There will be some things you likely won’t be able to have, at least not for a while, so enjoy them now!

Adjusting took a long, long time – it’s something I still struggle with every day. I no longer feel hunger, so I forget to eat. Get an app to set alarms and reminders for yourself. Track your progress. But most importantly, don’t forget that just because it’s not the same as life before, doesn't mean that it’s life over. There is still joy to be found all around you :)

27percentBatterylife

Is there anything you wish you could eat again?

I miss being able to digest sugar easily; I always had a sweet tooth. I fell in love with pecan pie during my time in the States, and I haven't been able to eat any in years.

 Tsunagi-the-Hungry

I realize that it’s probably Top Secret hush hush business, but what can you tell us about the villain at Kamino? Who was he? What’s his name? What was his goal? Why did he kidnap a UA student? Have you met him before? What the hell was all that about?

I cannot disclose very much information about what happened that night in Kamino Ward. What I can tell you is that the villain in question is very dangerous, and was acting as a sort of mentor to Shigaraki Tomura, the leader of the League of Villains. We do not know his name.

I have met him before. We fought some years ago; I won.

43-59-87

If you won the first time, how did he come back? Was he not incarcerated?

We were under the impression that the man was dead.

fxck0ffm8

What do you mean by “under the impression” he was dead? Was he, or wasn’t he? Is our government so incompetent that they can’t tell a dead body from a live one?

There was no body. We assumed because the medical team had to scrape his brain matter out from under my fingernails. Does that answer your question?

coffeedispenser

The scar on your left side - was it given to you by this villain?

Yes.

coffeedispenser

Would you be willing to elaborate?

Again, there are some things I'm simply not allowed to talk about. Our first bout was brutal, vicious, and destructive. It was the only time in my life I fought not just to incapacitate, but with intent to kill if necessary. Everyone saw what happened in Kamino, and that was with both of us in less than ideal shape; the first go-around was even worse.

The wound in my side occurred near the end; I literally had to hold my own organs in just to finish the fight. It was not a pleasant experience.

its_sunnie

Hello, this thread got hella dark let me just make a distraction here… do you have any hobbies?

I love movies and film! I have an impressive movie poster collection, if I do say so myself; many of them are autographed. Lately, I’ve been taking care of a few succulent plants – my students got them for me while I was in the hospital. My echeveria is growing beautifully!

 Bold-Of-You_To-Assume-I-Wont

What’s your favorite time of year?

All the seasons are wonderful in their own way, but I particularly enjoy the colors of autumn.

 ohtobeyoungagain385

Hi All Might! I’d like to hear any fun teacher stories you have!!

I have many! My students are amazing and learning more and more every day. During final exams, I took on two of the boys in a simulation match – the match could be won by either putting a pair of handcuffs on the villain (me) or by getting through the exit gate. Both of them too quite a beating, but slipped through the gate and passed with time to spare! And I have to admit, I get a real kick out of playing the bad guy – watching their faces change when they realize I mean business is hysterical.

On the flip side of things, Present Mic once accidentally locked everyone out of the teacher’s lounge. The staff were rather surprised when I picked the lock before someone could find Eraserhead.

not-a-vigilante

Okay, I need to know how/why you know how to pick locks when you can break doors with your pinky finger.

It’s wise to have a wide variety of skills; you never know what might save your life one day. Certainly, I could have broken the door down, but then we would have a broken door. It’s no good solving one problem by creating another.

 39_Bottles

Back to Kamino a moment: there was a moment during the fight where the villain said something to you, and it knocked you off your game. What did he say?

The villain I fought does not rely purely on physical strength; he is known for mind games and pulling at one’s psyche. He had a piece of information that was personally relevant to me, that I will not disclose here.

 germanhotchocolate

Is your refrigerator running?

Let me go check!

jkl04

Well? Don’t leave us hanging!

My fridge is running just fine!

 AM_FAN0112

WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE MOMENT IN SUGAR SUGAR CAT CAFE

EVERY TIME MR. WHISKERS KNOCKS OVER THE SALTSHAKER, I LOSE IT ALL OVER AGAIN!

 heliotrope-teacup

Boxers or briefs?

I’m sure you can find fanart for either version.

forkeepsies

ANSWER THE QUESTION ALL MIGHT

OpalescentButterfly88

The people need to know!

 Mulan-Rouge

Your run of Quirk Warrior was AWESOME! What is your training regimen like?

Thank you, my friend! I do make an effort to stay in shape – I enjoy jogging the most, but I get into the gym as well. It’s nothing as intensive as my prime years, but that’s no reason to slack off!

450-five

What was your workout routine like in your prime? What’s the most you’ve ever been able to dead lift?

Hero-ing as my day job WAS the workout! As for weight training, you couldn’t put enough weight on the barbell to accurately measure that – need I remind you that I’ve held up buildings in my career?

 wannab3h3r0

Hello Mr. Might! I'm taking the UA entrance exam next year - got any advice?

No cheating now! Be confident in yourself and your abilities. Study hard for the written test, and act the way a hero would in the practical. Good luck!

______________________________________________________________

I'm sorry to leave you all, but I'm afraid my time is up! My publicist has found me and I have to go face her wrath with whatever courage I can muster. Let's do this again sometime, shall we?

Your Former Number One Hero,

ALL MIGHT

[sailorsero]

nothin’ else like this - nsfw

author: claire (@sailorsero​) ship: solo adult bakugou katsuki, dash of adult bakugou x gender neutral reader, side adult kaminari denki x adult shinsou hitoshi prompt/genre: birthday & food kink themed solo play wordcount: 2887 warnings: explicit sexual content, swearing, kink, food fetish/food kink/sploshing a/n: • written for the Bakugou’s Birthday Bash Collaboration - check out the masterlist to see everyone elses!) • shoutout to @foolishfortuna who is writing an amazing food fetish kiribaku that inspired me to write this kink • i do not give permission for this (or any of my writing) to be reposted, by anyone, on this or any other website. please don’t do it! • title from ‘birthday cake’ by rihanna

nothin’ else like this *** pinkyofficial • HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE BLASTIEST BOY IN THE GALAXY!!! @explosiongoddynamight LOVE YOU!!! 💥🧡🍹🎂😘 CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU AND GET TURNT WITH MAH BOYSSS!!! BAKUSQUAD BABY!!! 👬🧍‍♀️👬 GO TELL DYNAMIGHT HAPPT BIRTHDAY Y’ALL!!! #dynamight #pinky #birthdaybitch

its_cellophane: happt birthday @explosiongoddynamight pinkyofficial: @its_cellophane suddenly we’re a squad of 4 #cellowho theredriot: Look at us 🥺 can’t wait to celebrate together, love you guys!!! happy birthday bro @explosiongoddynamight ♥️ chargebolt: But can we get #birthdaybitch trending tho?? 🤔

Bakugou tutted, flicking through the photos Mina had posted to Instagram. One from last years Hero Gala, with Tweedle Dumb, Dumber and Dumbest crowded into his personal space - all smiles, suits and champagne flutes. A post-graduation selfie with the woman herself, where he felt so triumphant at moving onto the next stage of his quest to become #1, that he hadn’t even objected to the filter that gave them huge eyelashes and bear ears. A couple from their most recent meetups, candids from their school days (mostly taken without his knowledge, let alone permission; the only one that he was posing for featured a double middle finger that had set Iida off for a good fifteen minutes), one from a photoshoot his publicist had strong armed him into and his friends had christened ‘The Great Bakugou Thirst Trap of 2020’.

Bakugou did not consider himself a sentimental person, or someone who placed a great deal of importance on his own birthday; he hadn’t even made any fuss when you told him you were needed in Osaka for a mission that would take you away two days before he turned 24.

But he couldn’t help but go back to the first photo of the bunch, allowing himself a soft smile he would deny under oath.

His 17th birthday, his first birthday with - ugh - real friends. He remembered rolling his eyes when Racoon Eyes had given her blindingly pink phone to the waitress, yelling at Sparky and Tape Face when they’d shoved themselves into the same side of the booth as the rest of them, growling when Shitty Hair had told him to ‘say ‘cheese’, Bakubro!’.

They all looked so young, pre-undercuts and piercings and late teenage growth spurts. He’d have to remember the (very secret) happiness that night had brought him next time Kirishima annoyed him by stepping mud into his carpet or Kaminari pissed him off by opening his big fat mouth.

Bakugou was drawn from his thoughts by knocking on his office door. Knocking that started out strong for the first hit, dropping noticeably into something more tentative for the rest; probably once they remembered whose door they were knocking on. Kirishima had once told him that the interns drew straws on who had to ‘rattle the beast’s cage’ (interact with Bakugou). He’d know; that idiot had been rattling Bakugou’s cage 25/8 since their first year at Yuuei.

“Come in!”

The door opened far enough for an assistant who had already been by this morning with a sack of birthday cards mixed in with regular fan mail to poke their head through the gap.

“Mr Dynamight, Sir, there’s another delivery for you.”

Bakugou nodded, leaning back in his leather desk chair and stretching out his back. Damn paperwork day, and on his birthday. Fuck, was 24 the age your back started aching from sitting in a goddamn chair?!

The assistant continued as they approached the desk, despite the fact that Bakugou didn’t fucking ask.

“It’s a cake, from a lovely bakery downtown; a delivery person just dropped it off. Their cakes are exquisite, by all accounts.”

They stepped back from the desk once the baby blue box was securely placed down, a white satin ribbon wound expertly around it. An embossed logo Bakugou recognised shone under the overhead light.

The blonde’s quirk made short work of the ribbon, burning it idly with one hand so the rest could be severed with ease.

Bakugou flipped the lid of the box up, letting it fall fully open so he could inspect the contents. He blinked. He blinked again.

It was a cake. A strawberry shortcake, slathered with cream and fresh fruit, and perfectly placed in the centre was a chocolate disc with immaculately piped words.

♡ HAPPY BIRTHDAY DYNAMIGHT ♡

“It’s from your fanclub!”

He let his eyes drift back up to the assistant, who - from what Bakugou could infer from the overly positive, cheery tone he was using - clearly thought Bakugou was seconds away from blasting the expensive gateau across his office, and was trying to avert having to call the janitorial staff back up to this floor. He understood; unbridled, perhaps not-always-reasonable rage was kind of his brand, and the cleaners had already had to make a return journey today after Kaminari had set off several sprinklers making toast.

A cake. Yes, a cake. From his fanclub. A cake from his fanclub. That he was definitely going to eat and nothing else, nothing weird! A cake for him to eat. At home. In private. As soon as possible.

“That’s-” He cleared his throat and tried again. “That’s...great. It looks delicious...yes. Thanks. That’s all. You can...go.”

The assistant looked like they were struggling to process the combination of words that had just left Bakugou, but he was pleased when they decided to take this struggle on the road and left his office with a rushed “Yes, Mr Dynamight, Sir, thank you, you are welcome, good bye!” and the click of the office door.

Bakugou barely had time to drag his fingers through his hair, letting out a breath he had apparently been holding since he’d spoken, before the door opened again.

“Knock knock!” “You know he says it doesn’t count if you say it instead of doing it, especially if you’ve already open- Denki!”

Bakugou groaned as Kaminari shot across the room, peering into the still-open box on the desk. “Ooh, that looks amazing, bro! Can I have some?”

“Hey, Kats! Happy birthday, man!” Kirishima beamed at him before dropping his gaze to the cake Kaminari was currently eyefucking. Bakugou slid the box an inch or two closer to himself. He steadfastly ignored the other blonde’s question.

“Thanks, Ei. What’s Dunce Face doing here - world’s worst birthday present?”

Kirishima snorted, clapping Kaminari on the shoulder. “Ran into him a few blocks away on our patrols; figured we’d catch you now to say ‘happy birthday’ on the actual day instead of waiting for Saturday!”

Kaminari brought out what he probably considered the big guns; his finger guns, that he did for literally everything. “Happy birthday, Blasty! Speaking of your birthday, where did the cake come from? Sent with luuurve from Osaka? Although, that would be weird because you don’t even really like sweets and this won’t keep until Saturday when we get togeth-“

“It’s from my fanclub, Pikachu, and keep your staticky hands off my cake!” Bakugou flipped the lid back down, shielding the cake from view.

“Man, don’t be like that - there’s no way you’re gonna be able to eat all that by yourself!” Kaminari whined.

“Relax, Denks - you know Y/N has a cake ordered for Bakubro’s Belated Birthday Blowout!” Kirishima patted his back consolingly.

“I really wish you’d all stop calling it that. God, letting you guys have their number was a fucking mistake.”

Kaminari looked thoughtful; it was terrifying. “You know, I heard, one time, a hero got given a homemade cake by a fan, and when they took a bite of it, they realised they had a mouth full of the fan’s pubic hair!”

“Dude!” “What the everloving fuck, Dunce Face?!”

Kaminari just beamed, apparently proud of himself for making Bakugou question his life on the anniversary of his birth.

“Firstly, does this cake look fucking homemade to you? Secondly, where the fuck did you read that? ‘Disgusting Stories for Stupid Fucking Idiots Monthly’?”

Kaminari shrugged, nonplussed. “Sero told me.”

“Yes, then. Same thing, pretty much.”

Kirishima interrupted, looking thoughtful. “If you think Bakubro’s cake is full of pubes, why do you want to eat it?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had a mouthful of pubes, bro! ‘Toshi’s more of an au naturel kind of guy…”

Bakugou saw Kirishima’s (painful looking) thinking face intensify, and intervened immediately. “Ei, do not pull at this thread. He-“ Bakugou punctuated with a harsh jab towards the electric hero. “- has told us several times that he’s had Mindfucker’s dirty feet in his mouth before, not to mention all the bodily fluids, and then there’s all the disgusting public places they’ve fucked, and-“

“Don’t kinkshame me, bruh!” Kaminari cut in, sounding lowkey offended, but Bakugou noted the look of pride from before hadn’t diminished, even a little bit.

Bakugou snorted. He constantly shamed Kaminari and his walking corpse of a boyfriend, but that was because they were shamelessly disgusting oversharing nymphomaniacs and someone had to do it. Preferably before one of them creamed their pants in a karaoke bar again. That was Shinkami shaming, not kinkshaming.

He definitely had no room to kinkshame people; not with the plans he had for this cake.

***

Bakugou slammed the door to his apartment shut with his hip and laid the bakery box down on the side table so he could make quick work of his boots and jacket.

God, that had to have been the longest taxi ride of his life. He couldn’t risk the subway with such a precious cargo, so he’d had to sit in the back of the cab next to the box (that he’d had to resist the urge to belt in) and sweat in silence.

Bakugou didn’t know where this kink had come from - maybe he’d watched too much Food Network in his formative years, or passing by the bakery with the amazing smell opposite his junior high school twice a day for three years before going home to jerk it had warped his sexuality; all he knew was, he was gonna fuck this cake.

It was a shame that you were miles and miles away and unavailable for a Facetime like no other; introducing you to his kink had been one of the best weekends of his life, and he was pretty sure - if he knows you as well as he thinks he does - you’d placed an order for two birthday cakes for his belated celebrations.

Maybe you’d got other stuff in mind, too - pie, custard, ice cream, syrups, chocolate, sushi, spaghetti, fruit…and now he was half-hard, still fully dressed and standing in the hallway.

Well, you weren’t here now, but it was his birthday, dammit! He would just have to play alone, and send you some photos afterwards.

Bakugou seized the box and made quick strides until he could place it down on his bedside table.

The comforter flew off of the bed, pooling into a lavish lump on the floor right before the pillows landed one by one on top. The undersheet was last, leaving the rubber sheet beneath exposed to one of the only two people who knew it was there in the first place.

The box made its final move to the middle of the protected mattress, where Bakugou tilted it just enough to be able to coax the cake free with help from gravity and without getting it all over his hands. Not yet…

Bakugou made short work of his clothes, kicking his pants and briefs off impatiently a second before climbing onto the bed and kneeling beside his prize.

Normally, he’d take his time, play around more, have more of a plan, but today, the anticipation had him on a knife edge already. It had been nearly four hours since he’d unwrapped this gift, and he was dying to play with it.

Bakugou leant his knees spread apart, sinking into a squat so he was as close as he could get to his treat.

He was fully hard now, and gave his cock a couple of quick pumps, letting his fist settle loosely from the base down as he took a deep breath and brought his leaking tip to the side of the cake.

His breath left him in a quick rush when the first contact was made; the cream was on the cooler side, and the smooth finish of the outside of the cake was everything he had been missing since he’d last indulged himself like this.

It took all the self control Bakugou had to only push the head in, then pause and take a breath, focusing intently on every sensation as he pushed in as slowly as was physically possible.

The afternoon of waiting felt like edging, so the sensation against his cock, inch by inch, was almost too much as it was not enough.

The sponge was almost as soft and velvety as the cream, but providing some texture and resistance that felt as delicious as the dessert looked.

Bakugou let out the first of many moans as he bottomed out, the air in the bedroom already beginning to smell like sugar and strawberries - just the right side of cloying, and he knew before long it would be so heady he’d be dizzy from it.

He pulled out almost as slowly as he went in, raising himself back up a little and bracing himself with his hands on the other side of the intact cake, leaving him looking over it on his hands and knees.

His reentry at a slightly higher point of the cake wasn’t quite as slow as the first breach, but he’s never been known for his patience.

Bakugou pulled in and out a couple of times, leaving a clear hole to fuck as he began to do just that, his hips begnining to thrust in a steady rhythm.

It didn’t take long for the squishy sounds coming from between his legs to turn into sloppy ones; the delicate cake was beginning to buckle already, the defined layers enveloping his cock becoming mushy around him.

Balancing his weight on one arm, he swiped his now-free hand across the top of the cake, coming away with as generous a handful of cream and strawberry slices as he could without threatening the structural integrity of the cake prematurely.

Bakugou raised his hand and smacked it right into the middle of his chest, before smearing it across his right pec, rubbing purposefully over his nipple as he did so. His hips sped up slightly without intention - or him noticing - as he alternated between smearing the food deeper into his flushed skin, and tugging on his nipple.

He could hear whimpering in his ears and it took a beat or two for Bakugou to realise they were coming from him. Fuck, it all just felt so good.

He blindly grabbed another small handful, this time coming away with some cake mixed into his spoils, before repeating the treatment on his left pec, but with a roughness borne of his increasing desperation.

“Fuck, fuck, shit, I-“ He hissed out a breath, pinching his nipple firmly as he felt the cake begin to collapse inwards, the squelch of the fucking he was giving it echoing in his ears.

A final scoop of the dessert onto his fingers went straight into his mouth, his plush, pink lips parting to accommodate three fingers; he was close.

Bakugou’s balance was starting to go as his orgasm approached, so he pulled his fingers free from his tongue and resumed his position, but beginning to sink lower into the mess he was fucking into his mattress protectors. From his angle, his balls began to slap what was left of the sides of the sinking cake, and the noise that created tore another moan from the blonde.

He could feel the sticky mess coating his crotch and inner thighs, closing his eyes as he lost himself in the feeling of indulging in the kink that turned him on like nothing else, wanting to savour something he knew was nearly over.

“Oh my fuck- ing, shit, oh, fuck-“

Bakugou’s hips were moving at a frantic pace now, chasing a release inside the cake while it still had an inside.

His orgasm had been teetering for a couple of minutes, then came all at once. A shout turned into a long, drawn out moan that was almost a cry, as he spilled his release in one, two, three bursts; biting his lip so hard, he’d discover later he’d drawn blood.

His arms gave out before he’d come back to himself, his lower half landing into the gooey puddle of expensive baking with a splat that would almost have been enough to get him half hard again if his soul hadn’t just shot out of his dick into a cake.

The blonde let out a deep, satisfied sigh, smiling dopily into the shiny, specialist bedsheet. Happy birthday to me, indeed.

Bakugou had only just had the energy to raise himself back onto his hands and knees when he had to find a little more to turn his head towards the door at the sound of it creaking open.

“Awh, did someone get you a birthday cake, babe?”

He nodded. You were back early.

You dropped your duffel on the floor, taking your first step towards the bed as you slid your shirt off with ease.

“Ooh, good - you saved some for me! I’m starving…”

[azucanela]

chapter ii

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

warnings: cursing. mentions of a bomb.

word count: 3k

summary: the internet is enamored with the idea of y/n l/n and bakugou katsuki, two renowned pro heroes, dating. the first issue? the pair rarely interacts. the second issue? apparently, they hate each other, not that anyone knows about that bit. of course, after one night of many mistakes, the whole world knows.

series masterlist

THE MEETING WAS NOT SUCCESSFUL. AT ALL. Or at least, that’s how it seemed in Y/N’s eyes. Seeing as the only thing that had come out of it was… spending more time with Bakugou. Which was the opposite of what she wanted to do at the moment seeing as she despised him. Y/N actually had a feeling that any further interactions with Bakugou would only end in more chaos. So, Y/N decided she would set to work, as she would any other day. 

Ignore the problem until it goes away, right?

Slipping on her hero costume feels like a chore, pulling the gloves of her suit on with a grimace. They only served as a reminder of her inability to fully control her ability— though Y/N was known as someone with some of the most impressive quirk control. There was always that underlying feeling, of course that feeling never belonged to her. It had always been hard, shutting out the emotions of others, Y/N had found that those who feel the most strongly were the ones she would avoid.

Clearly she had failed.

Regardless, those emotions tended to be distracting as she went about her day. Y/N had learnt to ignore them, to block them out for periods of time, but in a career like hers it was unavoidable. The pain, the rage, the panic, the pure feeling of fear. It could get overwhelming and that often put her at a disadvantage. Emotions were viewed as a weakness, and oftentimes allowing your emotions to get the best of you resulted in unnecessary deaths. But allowing the emotions of others to do so? 

It got even worse when she actually activated her quirk to its fullest extent.  With a single touch, she could utilize the abilities of a person— all their abilities. When it came to quirks, if you controlled your quirk well, so could she. Otherwise, she would adapt the skills of a person, their intelligence, their athleticism, even their hobbies. Y/N could even the fact that she’d made it through UA to this ability. After all, she’d never been athletic, but her classmates had been. 

But her setback had always been a pain, especially in battle, Y/N felt the pain of whoever’s quirk she mimicked. If they were shot, Y/N felt it as if she had been shot as well. She’d never experienced someone dying on her. Nor did she want to. But Y/N was capable of holding as many quirks and capabilities as she could handle— and pain added up very quickly. 

It had been worse when she was younger, but Y/N had grown during her time at UA, and now she was capable of ignoring the emotions of others to an extent, and her pain tolerance had grown exponentially. 

Y/N was grateful for her success, for the agency she’d been working at. She was not grateful for the looks she got on the way there, Y/N could feel the whispers of those who watched her enter as they walked past. Though she could only hope her own staff had more respect for her. 

Her lips pressed together into a tight lipped smile as she entered, and Y/N found herself bracing for whatever could greet her. And to her delight, it appeared that everything was normal. Save for Lorelai’s presence by the entrance, her phone in hand. As though she had known Y/N had entered, the girl in question looks up from her phone before Y/N even has the chance to speak.

“We need to go over our plan, Y/N.”

In response, Y/N waves her off, continuing down the corridor. She smiles to those who greet her, mumbling back to them as Lorelai follows her. “Actually, I need to plan my first patrol of the morning.” She says, looking back to her friend momentarily.

“Then I’ll plan. And my plan includes a real nice fake dating scheme, kinda like those movies.”

Almost instantly Y/N turns around, glaring at Lorelai— who simply offers her a smile in response, clearly pleased with herself as she begins to move alongside Y/N rather than behind her. Y/N had no doubt that they would plan a fake dating scheme if it came down to it, unless she got involved that is. “So?”

“Well, the fake dating scheme was an actual option but you clearly don't like that.” Lorelai mumbles out in response, now holding a tablet as she guides them into a room. “Aside from that, basic press events together,” Lorelai looks up from her tablet pointedly, “where you actually look like you’re enjoying yourself, should amend the situation easily enough.”

Y/N raised a brow, taking a step around the long meeting table where those who worked at Hawk’s agency would soon congregate for their weekly assignments, “a little too easy if you ask me.” She looks to Lorelai, “Bakugou agreed to this?”

“I’m sure his PR team will convince him.” Came her response, shrugging as she took a seat on the table and crossed her legs. “We can do a public statement but there’s no real reason for making this a bigger thing than it already is. It would only end badly.” 

With a frown, Y/N’s eyes drift back towards the window. They’re still on the first floor so it’s not like she’s seeing much, but it’s almost astonishing, how there are people just… going about their days without a single fear in the world. All Might’s downfall had eradicated the mindset but on days like these it felt as though not a single thing had changed. As though there weren’t still dozens of underground organizations planning horrid things, and there weren’t hero agencies like her own devising ways to stop them.

Hero Society was a fragile, and corrupt thing. 

Y/N had watched as they threw children into every battle, she remembered when she’d been forced to do such things herself. She had watched her comrades, her friends, nearly die for a cause they were too young to comprehend. And she watched as civilians criticized them for not doing enough. Why did her publicity even matter? Shouldn’t that be the least of her concerns? Y/N found it funny that she needed to do well in polls to do her job well. It was the only real way to guarantee access to certain information that low ranked heroes didn’t get. 

With a sigh,Y/N turns back, brows furrowed, “so when does this start?”

Placing the tablet beside her on the table, Lorelai rests her palms against it and leans back against them, “next week probably. Haru still needs to work out the details with the rest of the PR team and Bakugou.” 

A small laugh escapes Y/N as she mumbles out, “it takes a whole team to keep that man from ruining himself.”

“Most Pro Heroes have a PR team, Y/N. You’re one of few exceptions.” Lorelai corrects, looking to her. It was true, Y/N was aware that more popular heroes often had teams of people coordinating their social media, schedules, public outings, and more. 

Y/N tilts her head at Lorelai, “why is that?” 

Lorelai raises a brow at her friend’s words, “what, you want to get rid of me?”

Y/N laughs once more, shaking her head, “no… it’s just—” She turns to face her friend, “when I hired you I couldn’t really afford anyone else. Now I can. But you do all the work by yourself.” Biting her lip, Y/N asks, “why is that? I could get you an assistant or something, easily.”

“Well you aren’t exactly the most problematic,” Lorelai responds, offering her a small smile.

Nodding, Y/N pulls out a chair at the head of the table, taking a seat, “but you also have plenty of other clients—”

The door opens, drawing their attention to the person who stands there, one of many heroes who worked at the agency., Pro Hero Telen, a simple hero name with an equally simple quirk. But his ability had saved them numerous times in battle. He pauses as he enters, “is it— is it not time for the briefing? Have I interrupted something? I apologize I can—” 

He moves to shut the door but Lorelai simply hops off the table, collecting her tablet as she heads to the door and rests a hand on his shoulder, “don’t worry— we’re done here, right Y/N?” Y/N simply nods, and Lorelai offers her a smile, “be careful today.” She mumbles out, before turning back to Telen. Y/N doesn’t know what she says, but he pales and nods before entering. Shortly after, everyone else seems to file inside, and Y/N finds herself sighing as she spins around in her chair as she waits. 

It would be a long day. A very, very, long day. 

BAKUGOU WAS TIRED. He really was. Working at Endeavor’s Agency meant long hours, endless paperwork, constant cases. And right now he was assigned to the current big thing; the Stain copycat that had yet to be caught. Unfortunately, this guy didn’t seem to be an amateur like the rest. Of course, whoever it was, they’d primarily been attacking minor Pro Heroes, until recently. 

Slowly working their way up the food chain of heroes until they ended up coming across someone who was relevant. It was inevitable, at one point whoever it was, they’d bite more than they can chew. Trying to take on a hero that surpassed their skills, whatever those skills may be— or they would slip up. Leaving behind some sort of evidence that would result in their capture. 

The only issue was, there was no telling where or when this would be. How many would have to die before they were caught? Bakugou didn’t necessarily want to know, and it was his job to make sure no one ever knew how many. 

A job he was failing. Alongside Deku, who had also been assigned to the case, it was a curious partnership but he had no choice to make it work. And his publicist had insisted that any presence with a hero like him would be good publicity. After all, most of the public knew about their little rivalry so it would make him seem diplomatic in a way. But Deku was…

“So… the gala, huh.”

Well, he was Deku.

“Shut up.” 

Thankfully, they hadn’t run into any reporters, though he was sure someone had caught pictures of them on duty together. Which was bound to end either ridiculously well for him, or incredibly poorly. It was always hit or miss with the press and Bakugou despised the entire aspect of the job. It was the one thing he could admit he was bad at. He wasn’t the most approachable, meaning it was rare for reporters to approach him in the first place due to his renowned temper.

The pair was making their way through the streets of the city, patrol was normal but they were currently on their way to the police station. They were supposed to be collaborating with the police to handle this copycat, and for some reason Deku was… panicked. It was subtle but the guy had been practically sweating bullets since Endeavor told them they’d need to work with the police. 

If Bakugou was honest this whole job was busy work. Why else would Endeavor’s agency be working on it? The Number One hero had to have better things to do. Maybe this was a punishment for what happened on the last mission they went on.

Bakugou frowns at the thought, electing to push those thoughts to the back of his mind as they come to stand in front of the Police Station. He finds himself bringing a hand to rub his temple. It was definitely going to be a long day. And he hadn’t even spoken to Haru about how the meeting with Lorelai went yet. Not that he wanted to know at this point, Bakugou had a feeling he wouldn’t be satisfied with any solution they proposed.

He really didn’t feel like dealing with any of this. So, Bakugou finds himself thinking that it might be time to use all those vacation days he’d been holding onto since he’d started working with Endeavor. They were piling up after all.

With a huff, he and Deku make their way up the steps up the police station, and Bakugou pushes the door open. It’s busy inside, as expected. A bustling atmosphere that reeks of blood, sweat, and tears, literally. There are some people seated, likely waiting to be processed, they’re handcuffed and Bakugou is fairly sure he recognizes one of them. Not that he has the time to dwell on it as they move through the police station.

One of the officers makes their way towards them, “you’re the heroes Endeavor’s agency sent?” He asks, looking to Deku, brow raised. “Welcome back.” 

Bakugou looks at Izuku incredulously as they begin to follow the man through the mess of a building, “the hell is that supposed to mean?” He hisses, but Izuku’s face has already flushed as he covers it with his hands, shaking his head.

“It was one time, how do all of you know about it!” Izuku cried out, and Bakugou finds himself glaring at his partner for the day, even without context.

The officer simply laughs, waving him off as they make their way into a room. There stands the police chief, Kenji Tsuragamae, and a few others seated at some of the many seats in the room, in front of white board that seems to be more of a mess than those around them. They look tired, exhausted even. 

Tsuragamae seems to notice their presence, clapping to garner the attention of the few inside the room, “everyone, please welcome the Pro Heroes from Endeavor’s agency. They’ll be assisting us with this case moving forwards.”

The officers seem rather unimpressed, and since Izuku still seems rather embarrassed for some reason, Bakugou finds himself stepping forwards, “what’s going on?”

With a sigh, he goes to answer. But he doesn’t get the chance as an explosion sounds and the building shakes. A siren goes off above them and suddenly the sprinklers began shooting out water as a woman entered, “sir! There’s been an explosion.”

Bakugou fights the urge to say, no shit, as he and Izuku exchange looks, “is it an attack?”

“On the police? That’s bold.” The officer from earlier comments as they all rise from their seats. But the fear in the room is abundantly evident as they all await her response, anticipation amongst them all. Because who would do such a thing, and so strategically placed on the day

The woman only shakes her head, and this time a man appears beside her, based on the way he’s dressed— Bakugou would have to guess he’s a plumber of some sort, but the man simply explains, “we think it’s an issue with the boiler room.” 

Bakugou finds himself rolling his eyes, “then why are you still here?” He turns to the rest of the room, “get on with the briefing and get the damn plumber down there.” He grumbles out, before taking a seat once more and redirecting his attention back to the chief, gesturing for him to carry on with his presentation. All the while Izuku is apologizing rather profusely for his attitude.

Now, crime had worsened exponentially after All Might’s downfall. It’s not that other heroes were suddenly less capable, although some were discouraged by the fall of the greatest hero. It’s just that All Might was a symbol. Even years after the fact, Bakugou could still see it. Things had changed. Although in recent times, crime had lessened thanks to the work of today’s Pro Heroes, there were still… issues.

Many had gone the vigilante route as a result of the League of Villains and Stain— and speaking of Stain, there had been several copycats over the years, people who agreed with his ideals and his actions. Which is what brought them here. The issue at hand was this most recent copycat was… decent. Most of the time it was amateurs who didn’t plan that far ahead, quick and easy to catch with minimal casualties, if any. 

Essentially, the police had nothing on him. Just a list of his victims and what they had in common. They were underground heroes, like that of his own teacher from UA, but something about them seemed off, different from what they’d seen in other copycats in the past. They weren’t like the flashy heroes you would find, the ones who seemed… fake. The ones most targeted because they fit Stain’s idea of a false hero.

And even then, there was no being sure which were the victims of this copycat and which were that of others. As the anniversary of Stain’s capture grew closer, more attacks were popping up. 

Shaking away these thoughts, Bakugou grimaces. All he had gotten from that briefing was that they knew nothing, had done nothing, and were going nowhere. Which wasn’t necessarily encouraging. So far, there were four confirmed victims of the copycat, and three additional deaths that were viewed as possible victims of the copycat. Technically, one of the copycats, but that wasn’t something he necessarily wanted to think about. 

Yeah, he would definitely be taking those vacation days.

[pla-teau]

WANDAVISION SERIES FINALE THOUGHTS

WHOEVER’S CUTTING ONIONS NEEDS TO S T O P.

hayward | i was one of the many few who really wished death on the man cause he’s just the worst. this man emptied his clip at two children. i’m glad jimmy was able to pull a fast one on this dick and that darcy hit him with the ice cream truck and very happy to see the man being taken away in cuffs.

vision vs. vision | while i would’ve enjoyed seeing them fight it out until one completely lost, it wouldn’t be vision without some philosophic conversation. it’s true vision fashion. he doesn’t fight unless it’s a last resort. he’s logical and can assess other means in which to deter a foe. truly enjoyed the scene and now i’m just curious as to where tf white vision yeeted off to after regaining the memories from hex!vision? some have speculated possibly wakanda since that is the place where he died. twice. i would love to see him possibly interact with shuri since she would’ve appeared in the memory montage that hex!vision provided him with alongside other events from infinity war.

agatha (aka not mephisto) | overall, i loved agatha as a character and i’m glad she wasn’t killed off by the end of the series. i know she was more villainous in the show but i’m glad they somewhat neutralized her even if it was by cruel punishment brought upon by wanda to keep her trapped in westview as a nosy neighbor. it keeps the door open for us to see more interactions between her and wanda. i’m also glad that she was the foe wanda had to go against. i know many (like myself) speculated mephisto would appear and be revealed but i’m happy i was wrong about that. this is the first entry into phase four and to spill out a big bad right away? probably not the best move. i know ant-man 3 is planning on introducing kang the conqueror so i wouldn’t be shocked if mephisto is used as a red herring to distract us from the actual big bad of the phase, kang the conqueror (while still keeping mephisto around obviously for future battles and possibly use him as a big bad down the road).

family is forever | i was sobbing when seeing the hex start shrinking down in the distance outside the boys’ window. i love that wanda and vision made the move to put them to bed as a way of saying goodbye so they wouldn’t have to see them disappear. i hope to see these same boys come back cause i think no matter what your theory was on them, viewers fell in love with them. if planning for young avengers, i cannot wait to see them be a part of it. given that these boys weren’t real and not actually wanda’s children, i think they’ll go the route that they’ll find each other even if not as a blood related family but reincarnations that know that wanda was their mother in one instance and see her as a mother figure (alongside their actual mothers, of course). i just love them and i really wish they stuck around but i know this won’t be the last time we see them!

wanda’s outfit | i love it and i think pays homage to her comic book costume while still fitting the aesthetic of wanda and the mcu. love the attention to detail and the pattern on her headpiece. someone on here also pointed out in a post how it resembles magneto’s suit and it makes me love it more because of that. in conclusion, this is the scarlet witch and she’s hot.

wanda and vision’s farewell | if i was sobbing at billy and tommy’s fate, i was wailing by the time these two started saying goodbye. we learn that the main reason vision was able to be created the way he was by wanda was because of the mind stone. while she is the scarlet witch, she was exposed to and enhanced by the mind stone that ended up becoming vision. like she said, it’s a part of her. he lives on in her and overall, this scene just cemented that these two are meant to be together. they are going to be that power couple in the mcu moving forward, together or apart. we know these two are meant for each other and have so much love for each other and will find their way back always. while they may change, the one thing you can bet your ass on is that they fucking love each other.

ralph bohner | the twist that no one saw coming - peter is ralph. it’s clear that he was being controlled by agatha because the moment monica took off the necklace, he woke up from her spell. a lot of people are swirling around to say that he’s probably woo’s missing person. we don’t know that and it’s something that’s left unconfirmed. while i would’ve enjoyed the reveal to be peter actually being peter from the x-men universe, i’m also happy he isn’t. yes there was a lot of fanfare and hope for this series to introduce the multiverse but in retrospect, it would’ve been too much to throw at us at the beginning of phase four. throwing in the multiverse right away would’ve taken away from the series being about wanda (separate point i’ll get to at the end). do hope to see evan peters in a future mcu project, though!

wanda’s story moving forward | i hope wanda becomes a sort of anti-hero for the future. this does set up her appearance in doctor strange 2 and i can’t wait to see what she does. while agatha said she’s destined to destroy the world and her power exceeds the sorcerer supreme’s, i hope the writers don’t make wanda into this villain that loses her logic because of extreme power. wanda has proven agatha wrong already by acknowledging the error in her ways. when she realized she was hurting the people of westview, she let them go and stopped hurting them. she learned that yes, she is hurting them without knowing so what she has to do is let them go. wanda has learned throughout her years with the avengers the consequences her powers can have on people. we know she’s never been trained by a witch and yes, that makes her dangerous with her chaos magic. the second post credit scene shows us that she’s determined to teach herself even if it’s through the darkhold. in seeing what she’s done and the power she holds, i think wanda will be this gray moral character. she holds a great deal of power, the most powerful being on the planet at the moment, and that can cloud her judgement at times. despite being an avenger, this show has really shown us that wanda is alone. while she was with the avengers, what have they really done? they kept her in check and helped her utilize her powers for good but then when civil war happened, she was detained and treated like a weapon of mass destruction. the avengers are clearly nonexistent and those that are around, haven’t bothered with her. i also hope that this new phase of marvel kinda tears down the original avengers and their actions because while intentions were good, not everything or everyone was perfect and there’s consequences. and i hope those consequences are shown through the main characters of this phase like wanda.

the complaints | while i loved this show so so much, i did have some issues. while i enjoyed that this show fleshed out more of wanda’s past, i’m sad that they didn’t confirm or at least try to make wanda jewish since they completely erased her romani roots from the comics. this goes back to my whole thing with representation which i’ve mentioned before in response to an article. while i love elizabeth olsen’s portrayal and care she has for wanda, a romani actress still should’ve been cast from the beginning. the least they could’ve done was at least make her jewish even if ever so subtly because that is the other half of wanda’s identity, even if it’s been retconned often. if they are never going to confirm her as magneto’s daughter in the mcu, at least honor that aspect of her identity if you’ve erased one major one already. representation matters and i wish they tried to do right by the character since they clearly paid close attention to other aspects of her comic book history and took a deep dive into her mental health. come at me for these thoughts but i’ll stand by them. another is just directed at the press for the show (i’m looking at you paul bettany). while fans went ham on the theories and marvel will do anything to misdirect you, i think there should’ve been a clear up from marvel about bettany’s claims of a big cameo coming in the series when it was about himself. i get you don’t want to spoil the show and the big surprises it may hold for the audience but still. i think there should’ve been someone behind the scenes or bettany’s publicist could’ve kinda told him to stop hinting at a super duper big cameo. yes, fans got carried away but i think when you’re doing press for marvel, it should be somewhat common knowledge that fans are going to analyze and try to figure out wtf is gonna happen. it’s fun theorizing, don’t get me wrong but when it’s gone the way it has for this show, i think it leaves a lot of people unsatisfied. i’ll admit i was being a clown thinking i’d see patrick stewart as professor x again since he’s an actor paul’s never worked with before and would be a huge fan service for the audience like in the mandalorian season finale. tldr; crazy fan theories comes with the territory. my final grievance actually has to do with the set up for monica’s engineer. i was also hoping we’d someone big or someone that could be big in the future, possibly it was a skrull at the end but the tone and way monica talked about it, i think it was underwhelming to see a character that we came not to care too much about.

final thoughts | overall, i loved this show and it was refreshing to see marvel embrace the magical side of their universe as it continues to expand. the cast was amazing. everyone in the cast and crew deserve awards because this really gave us a show about wanda. i think a lot of people lost that (including myself) with all the theorizing; goes back to my complaint about press for the show. it gave us a show that dealt with trauma and grief in a way we haven’t seen before in marvel’s cinematic universe. i’ll admit i didn’t care much for wanda as i did with the others but this show made me care for her a lot more and made me a bigger fan of her and vision’s story. it grounded itself in dealing with wanda’s grief and trauma in a new way while also exploring her character more. so i’m happy that we didn’t get a super big cameo or that the multiverse wasn’t confirmed because then the tone and attention would’ve shifted away from this story being about her. i hope marvel can give us shows like this that make us care about a character’s emotions and feelings rather than just how cool and badass they look in a suit. it was clear that the cast and crew made this with such love and care that had good storytelling and kept us on edge every week. i hope that marvel can show us these types of stories and ranges from characters in future movies as well.

[anime-alyssa]

my ghost - dabi x hawks

Not a day passed by where Keigo Takami didn’t think of Toya Todoroki - his best friend that he fell in love with. One day, he swears he’s seeing a ghost - but it's not a ghost at all. 

i posted this on ao3 last night but forgot to cross post here cause it was late - my bad. 

smut below the cut - if you enjoyed consider a lil tippy tip

He remembered it like it was yesterday. 

The teacher coming in with a somber look on her face, eyes slightly glazed over as she told his class that one of their classmates had passed away. She had looked to Keigo sympathetically as he sat in shock - the news not quite hitting him until much later in the day, when the P.E teacher found him in the locker room crying.

Not a day passed when Keigo Takami didn’t think of Toya Todoroki - his best friend that he fell in love with. At the time of his death they were only teenagers, new to the idea of love and romance and not even sure what they liked. As the years went on and more people tried to advance on him, Keigo couldn’t help but let his mind wander back to Toya - making him realize that he was in love with his deceased best friend.

The publicists at his agency thought it would be best if he kept his sexuality a secret. Part of his attraction as Hawks was his looks, he knew that - imagine how much his attractiveness as a hero would go down if society found out he was gay. He always fought with them and told them that they could shove it - but he knew that they were right. There would always be one asshole who would try to tank him for it. 

Everything he did to become the number two hero, he had done with Toya in mind. They had always said they would become heroes together, run their own agency to protect the world from villains. But now here he was, standing on the stage next to the new number one, the person who could no doubtedly be blamed for the death of his best friend - Endeavor. 

Toya hadn’t said much to Keigo about his father - but the scars and bruises were enough to prove to him that the hero wasn’t all he was cracked up to be. But even now, what could he do about it? He had to just smile and put on the show for the cameras - something he was good at. He had been hiding his sexuality all these years, he could pretend to like Endeavor. 

Keigo couldn’t get out of there fast enough - answering the absolute bare minimum of questions that would get the publicists off his back before flying out to his patrol post. The sun was setting by now - the ranking announcement taking way longer than it should have. As much as he wanted to fly back to his penthouse and drink away some of his feelings, he had a job to do - the job that he and Toya always said they’d do together. He wondered how much things would be different if Toya was here - would they be heroes together? Would they be together? Keigo ached to know, even though he would never find out. 

Shouts of commotion from below got his attention as he sighed, standing up and flying downwards. There was a group of thugs confronting a singular villain - trying to go after him. One of them looked up wide eyed, dropping his weapon and dashing away. 

“Oh shit - it’s Hawks!” With a snap of his fingers, Keigo let his feathers fly free, injuring the thugs and letting them fall to the ground. Hawks pressed the police button on his costume to alert the police of the incident before turning his attention to the villain. He landed himself in the middle of them before turning around to face the villain that was causing all the trouble in the first place. 

“Well, well - if it isn’t the number two hero himself. Hawks, right?” he asked. Keigo turned around and his eyes grew wide, meeting the gaze of the villain. No, it can’t be - “What’s the matter, number two? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” the patch work cremator said with a smirk. Keigo knew the blue of those eyes anywhere - the snarky attitude, that face, despite all the staples and burns - he dreamt about it for years. Police sirens started to get closer and closer to the duo before he sighed. “Good talk. I’m gonna take my leave now - thanks for disposing of these worthless thugs for me. Using my quirk is a real pain.” with that, he turned on his heel and started walking away. 

“Toya!” Keigo shouted before he could stop himself. He saw the man stop for the briefest of seconds, turning back towards him. Keigo felt his breath get stuck in his throat - it couldn’t be him, could it? Icy blue eyes locked back on his, a small smile turning his cheeks upwards. 

It was him.

“The name is Dabi now, Keigo. I’ll be seeing you real soon.” Dabi rose his hand and within seconds, Keigo was up in the air avoiding the blue flames. The screams of the captured thugs echoed off the walls as the police arrived on the scene, calling in for back up. By the time some of the smoke and flames cleared, there was absolutely no sign of him. 

Toya’s alive. After all this time, Toya’s alive - 

“Hawks, thank you for calling this in. Where did the flames come from?” a police officer asked the number two. Snapping out of his trance, Keigo turned around to face the police officers, seeing the medical team retrieving the charred bodies of the thugs behind them. With a sigh, he answered.

“Dabi, from the League. Unfortunately, he got away this time. Flames were too quick.” He said back. The police officers looked at him with unease - Hawks was the quickest one around, too fast for his own good, but they didn’t question his answer. For whatever reason, today Hawks wasn’t quick enough to get Dabi. 

After cooperating with the police, he decided he was done for the day. He sent his sidekicks out to patrol some areas while he flew back to his penthouse, landing on the balcony outside the living room and strolling in. He shrugged off his jacket and threw it over a chair before walking over to his bar and pouring himself a drink. 

Keigo had spent the better part of his life trying to deal with Toya being gone - trying to deal with being in love with him - but he had been alive all along? To make matters worse - he was with the League? What the hell had actually happened that night? To his knowledge, Toya had gone up to the mountains to practice using his quirk, and just never came back - burning to death. There hadn’t even been a body found - so how in the hell was he here now?

“You should really have better security up here. Anyone could just… walk in.” Keigo’s feathers acted quicker than he did, several flying out and landing just inches before Dabi’s - Toya’s body. He let out a laugh as Keigo turned around to meet his gaze.

“How?” Keigo asked, voice cracking. He inwardly cringed at himself - if only the public could see him now. Hawks, the number two hero, a bloody mess because his best friend and love was back from the dead. 

“I lived. Clearly - but look at you! Number two hero, all buddy-buddy with Endeavor today. It made me sick.” Dabi said, walking over to Keigo and helping himself to his own drink at the bar. Keigo let out a snort as he refilled his own cup. 

“I meant how did you live. See your attitude is still the same.” Keigo said back to him, turning around to face him sideways. 

“Well, God didn’t want me and Hell didn’t either, so here I am.” Dabi retorted, drinking while eyeing the number two.  “So? Are you now best of buds with dear ‘ol dad?” he asked him. 

“I’d rather tell him to go kick rocks - but unfortunately, I need to pretend to like him. For the public’s sake.” Keigo admitted to Dabi, who hummed in acknowledgment. He watched the scar tissue on his neck bulge as he drank, clearing his throat as he put the glass down after drinking. 

“Yeah, that’d look real fuckin’ bad, right? I hear you’re great at pretending, anyway. If you can pretend to be straight, then I guess you can pretend to like my shithead dad.” Keigo almost spat out his drink at the comment, earning a raised eyebrow from the villain. “Something I said, Kei?” he asked, the two of them putting their glasses down and now looking at each other. 

“How did you find that out?” Keigo asked through gritted teeth. 

“Come on, like it wasn’t already obvious when we were teenagers. Every stupid 13 year old girl in our class threw themselves at you and you could have given a shit.” Dabi said to him smuggly, taking a step closer to the winged hero. “You know, back then - I knew I was too, you know. At first, it was going to just be spite to my old man - imagine him knowing his oldest son was not only a failed experiment, but also gay.” he said with a chuckle. 

“Oh really? Just spite?” Keigo asked, cocking an eyebrow. 

“Well at first - until after I ‘died’, when I started watching you from the shadows. Saw how bent out of shape you were, really, you were a mess. It actually hurt my heart a little, not gonna lie.” Dabi was walking closer and closer to Keigo slowly but surely, almost on top of him. Keigo made no sign that he was going to move, or was displeased, so he kept going. 

“Huh, so you still have a heart.” he said back with a smirk. Keigo tried to mask how Dabi’s close proximity was affecting him - his heart racing a mile a minute. “What do I have to do with this little story of yours? What, took one look at me and realized you liked men more?” he asked, keeping up the smirk. 

“And if I did? What would you do then?” he asked, voice gravelly as their chests were nearly touching. He could feel the heat coming off of him - body warm from his quirk, that’s how close Dabi was to Keigo. The tension could be cut with a knife, the air thick with it and surrounding the two men. 

“I’d tell you that you were my reason too.” Keigo said honestly, quietly. 

“Well, ain’t that a relief.” Dabi said back to him. Without a second thought, Keigo grabbed Dabi by the shoulders and closed the gap between them, the villain letting out a grunt as their lips met each other. Keigo’s hand went around the back of Dabi’s neck, pushing their mouths impossibly closer together as Dabi’s went around Keigo’s back to crash their bodies together. They both moaned into the mouth of the other as their hips met, each of their bulges harshly pushing against the other. “Where the fuck’s the bedroom, Kei?” Dabi hissed out in Keigo’s mouth. 

“Hold on to me.” Keigo said back, using both his hands to slightly lift Dabi off the ground and fly across the penthouse and into the bedroom. Their lips met once more after Dabi’s back hit the mattress, Keigo moaning as Dabi’s hips bucked upwards to meet his. Dabi used all the force in his body to turn Keigo over, flipping him on his back and panting for breath. His pupils were blown out, barely any blue left to his eyes as they stared down at Keigo’s, in a similar state. 

“Looks like you have a problem there, number two.” Dabi said, voice low and deep as his hand cupped the tent in Keigo’s pants. He let out a pitiful moan as the villain chuckled above him. “Allow me.” 

With that, Dabi unbuckled Keigo’s belt and started to unzip his pants. Once he had those shrugged down enough, his hand went under the waistband of Keigo’s boxers and pulled out his hard cock. Keigo let out a moan as he squeezed it gently, thumb gliding over the slit at the head and spreading the precum that had leaked out. Keigo tried to keep his eyes on Dabi, before they rolled back into his head as the villain’s tongue licked up the underside of his shaft. 

“Fuck…” Keigo moaned, feeling Dabi’s smirk as he took his cock in his mouth. Warmth encased his member as Dabi began to suck his cock, taking as much of his lengthy member into his mouth as he could before his staples started to pain him. What he couldn’t fit in his mouth he wrapped a hand around, starting to pump him. His tongue flicked over Keigo’s head with every bob as his hand pumped him and let out gentle squeezes to his balls, sending jolts of pleasure up his body. Every muscle in Keigo’s body simultaneously tensed up as he felt his cock harden more in Dabi’s mouth. “T - Toya - ” he stuttered as he started to twitch in Dabi’s mouth. 

“Cum, Keigo.” the villain said from below. Keigo let out a guttural moan as he felt himself release inside of Dabi’s mouth. The villain swallowed all of it as Keigo panted and moaned his way through his release, death gripping onto the sheets below him as he felt himself relax. When Dabi stood back up, he shrugged his jacket off and let it fall to the floor, bringing his lips back up to meet Keigo’s. They kissed with a sense of urgency, Dabi’s rock hard erection pressing into Keigo’s still hard cock. “Need you.” Dabi panted as their lips parted, the two men pulling each other’s shirts over their heads. 

“Then come and get me.” Keigo said back as he now tried to unbuckle Dabi’s belt, managing to get it completely undone and pushing his pants down and off. Dabi let out a moan at the actions as he pulled Keigo’s pants the rest of the way off as well and shoved him backward against the mattress once more. Their lips met again as the two were now naked, bodies pressed together and sweating as Keigo felt Dabi’s cock prod at his hole. Dabi guided himself in, pressing into Keigo gently as the latter hissed at the sensation. 

“Relax, Kei - fuck…” Dabi breathed as he continued to settle in. Dabi was losing himself in the feeling - Keigo was so deliciously tight around him and he had been waiting for so long to finally be able to fuck him right. He was inserting himself slowly, savoring the moment as he finally bottomed out.

“I’m not made of glass Toya, so how about you start - fucking shit - ” Keigo was cut short as Dabi started to thrust, a moan falling off his lips as the villain’s pace started out quick and deep. Dabi let out a chuckle as he pounded into him.

“What were you saying?” he asked, a moan of his own falling out of his mouth as Keigo squeezed down on him. “Shit Kei - you do that again and I’ll - ” Dabi moaned again as he felt himself harden inside Keigo, the other man’s cock twitching between their bodies. Keigo was still sensitive from his last orgasm, a moaning and desperate mess for the man above him. Dabi’s pace increased once more as he thrust into Keigo so deeply the hero was seeing stars above him, feeling his second orgasm starting to come up and almost at the bursting point. 

“Toya - I’m gonna - gonna cum - ” Keigo said. Dabi let out a loud moan as his hips kept slapping against Keigo’s ass, the sound of his name coming off the hero’s lips like music to his ears. Dabi’s cock started to twitch inside him and he knew that he was not far behind.

“Cum - cum with me, Kei - fuck!” Dabi cursed, bringing his lips down to meet Keigo’s. Keigo let out a loud moan into the villain’s mouth as he came over his stomach, Dabi moaning back as his hips stuttered into Keigo once more before releasing inside him. They moaned into each other as their releases continued, eventually kissing as Dabi slipped out of Keigo. After a few minutes, they laid next to each other in the bed, Keigo finally speaking up to cut the silence. 

“So, now you gonna disappear on me until you need a fuck again?” he asked the villain. Dabi scoffed as he rolled to face him, eyes narrowing. 

“You want the world to know you just fucked a villain?” Dabi asked back. Keigo humed in agreement as Dabi pressed a kiss to his lips again. He did have a point - obviously, no one could know. 

But even if it was just for a night, for that moment, everything felt… right to Keigo. 

[satoruvt]

the color of you - green (3)

i feel like in terms of the patterns im tryna leave this chapter wasnt that good but its ok i like it anyways and i hope u do too

pairing → keigo takami x bakery owner!reader

word count → 2072

summary → you’re not really dating, so you can’t really be in love with him… right?

song inspo → xo by eden

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

The grass is so bright.

You don’t know why it looks particularly vibrant today - maybe it’s the sun. It dots the grass under the trees in unusual polygons, the rays lighting up the green in their early-summer light. Your eyes trace the landscape, starting at the ground before moving up. Brown bark of a tree, then the token green of summer again, and finally blue sky. It’s a good day for a walk. 

Keigo squeezes your hand gently and you’re moved back to real-time, no longer focused on the colors of the world.

You’re still surprised this is so easy - of all of the things you thought this relationship would be, easy wasn’t one of the words that came to mind. But it is, Keigo makes it easy, somehow. The first few days, you went home every night from hanging out, going on “dates” just to scream into your pillow that it was you with pro-hero Hawks - albeit fake, it was you.

And his publicist was right about you gaining business - the bakery was flourishing more than ever before, supportive fans coming to try their beloved hero’s girlfriend’s pastries. The money you were getting as a positive consequence was enough for you to actually have money leftover after groceries and bills, not to mention the few employees you had were getting paid what they deserved.

“Hey, stop spacing out,” Keigo says, stopping in the pathway. When you turn to him with a raised eyebrow, he’s pouting playfully. “You’re supposed to be focused on me.”

“Oh, right, of course,” you keen, placing a hand over your heart. “I’m so sorry, my love! Forgive my incompetence…”

He grins. “All is forgiven if you agree to sit with me under the mighty oak tree over yonder.”

His medieval speak makes you cringe (though you’re sure yours isn’t any better) but you let him lead you to the tree he had in mind. He sits down at its base, under the shade of its leaves, and you follow. You lay so your head is on his lap, resting on your back.

It’s not a designated date today - Keigo had a day off (a “day off”) and called to see if you had one as well. You didn’t have to be to the bakery until later into the afternoon, so you figured it couldn’t hurt to spend some time with him (after all, he is your boyfriend now).

He’s talking about Endeavor, how the two of them are best friends, but the Number One hero just doesn’t know it yet. You’re not really focusing on his words, because it’s hitting you hard that he’s fucking pretty. It’s not like you hadn’t noticed it before - you were (are?) a fan, you noticed that he was attractive, but Lord, if it doesn’t show in the sunlight right now. With his perfectly-unruly hair, light and intelligent eyes -

“Oh!” Keigo says, looking down at you. “I just remembered. We should take some pictures.”

It takes you a moment to recover. “Uh - for what?”

“Social media.” He pulls out his phone from his pocket, and you sit up from his lap. You’re sure the two of you look pathetic, taking selfies in the middle of a park, but then again, what’s the harm?

Keigo taps on the photo app, turns his phone sideways, and you brush down your hair that’s sticking in a million different directions once you see yourself in the frame. It doesn’t take long - Keigo sends you an impatient look anyways and you tell him to shut up - and you scoot behind him, resting your head on his shoulder cutely.

That’s the first photo, gentle smiles and green grass. The second one involves you kissing his cheek, and the third one something stupid with both of you sticking your tongues out at the camera. Once he sends them to you, you save them to your phone before putting it back into your pocket.

They’re cute pictures, and for a moment it almost seems like the whole thing is real.

-

The grass is soothing against your skin, but eventually it’s time for you to get back to the bakery.

The walk back to the main entrance of the park is softer from when the two of you came in, conversation more serious than playful (not to say that Keigo doesn’t tease you when the opportunity arises, because he does).

“Are there any big events coming up?” You ask him, swinging your intertwined hands between the two of you. “Like, that we have to go to?”

“Yeah, there’s a hero awards ceremony,” Keigo says, then grimaces slightly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at an awards ceremony before. Or any hero meetings, aside from maybe two.”

“That’s because they suck and take too much energy.”

“Then why are we going to this one? Isn’t it weird for you to suddenly go now?”

“That’s a good question,” Keigo says, and you noticed you’ve reached the front gate. “I’ve got no fucking clue.”

The chuckle that escapes your lips is genuine, and your hand leaves his with a gentle, “I’ll see you later, Kei,” but he pulls you back suddenly. You’re closer than before, and you furrow your brows at him.

“What -”

“There’s some paparazzi behind you,” Keigo says.

Oh.

“I’m gonna kiss you, okay?”

Oh.

You nod, still reeling from when he pulled you to him, and he leans forward. But wait, why is your heart beating so fast -

Keigo’s lips meet yours in a soft kiss, something only meant to convey feeling to the outside world. It’s innocent, an “I-love-you” kiss, and it takes you half a second to reciprocate. But you do, smiling onto his lips - let’s give ‘em a show, you think to yourself - and he places a hand on your cheek. You cover it with your own, and when he pulls away you lean into his palm on instinct.

“Not gonna lie, hero,” you breathe, “you’re really good at that.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” Keigo grins, obviously smug, but you snort.

“Whore.”

“Hey!”

With a laugh, you walk out of the main gate, to the subway station. You can’t help but reminisce about the feeling of Keigo’s lips as you do.

-

The bakery’s having a slow day by the time you walk in, the inside seats only occupied by a few people. The chatter is quiet, barely there, and it reminds you of mid-spring days, sitting outside with friends to catch up. You head back to the kitchen with a greeting to each of your employees, but you barely get started on some cookie dough when you’re called out to the front of the restaurant.

“Y/N, there’s a delivery person here for you,” one of your employees says, and you sigh, thinking about what to do, given that your hands are covered in flour.

“Can you handle it? It’s probably just this week’s dairy,” you respond, working the dough through your fingers. Your employee shakes his head, and he’s got a small smile on his face.

“It’s not that,” he says. “The guy’s got flowers.”

What?

You furrow your brows - “tell him to wait for a minute” - before washing your hands off, wiping the excess water on your apron. When you walk out to the cash register, sure enough, there’s a man waiting with a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

“Are you Y/N?” He asks when you get close enough, and you nod. “From Hawks.”

You take the bouquet in your hands and you hear a camera snap as you do. When you turn your head to the noise, none of the customers in the bakery show any signs of it being them, but you’re sure it’s one of Keigo’s fans who heard his name. The delivery guy walks out of the bakery and you roll your eyes, laughing to yourself. There’s a tag tied around the stems and you pull on it to read it.

Couldn’t help but notice how you looked at the flowers earlier, so I got you some of your own. If I don’t see them on the counter the next time I’m at the bakery, we’re gonna have some problems.

The note is signed with a loopy scribble of Keigo’s name, and then a heart. It makes you smile and you take out your phone to send a picture of the tag to him, along with a message that reads “received loud and clear.” He responds quickly; “good, they better be in the best vase you can find.”

-

“Why are my flowers in a pot?”

You look up from wiping down the counter, brain thoughtlessly telling you to tell whoever it is at the door that the bakery’s closed, but you’re met with a familiar pair of red wings and golden eyes.

You tuck the damp rag into a pocket in your apron, shrugging as Keigo walks closer to the counter. “It’s a bakery, that’s the best vase I can find,” you say, then pout, “besides, it’s rustic, leave it alone.”

He laughs, and you motion for him to follow you back to the kitchen. “So, what brings you here?”

“My flowers.”

You feign offense, draping the back of your hand over your forehead. “Really? Only the flowers? Not to see little old me, your very own girlfriend?”

Keigo hums, dipping his finger into a mostly-empty tub of icing to taste it. “Mm, I take it back. Not the flowers. It was for this kick-ass icing.”

“You like it?” You ask, and he nods, going in for another finger-ful. “You should try the donuts I just made.”

“Holy shit, can I?”

You giggle at his eagerness, then pull out two donuts from the cooling rack nearby. You hand one to Keigo - a classic glazed - before taking your personal favorite off the rack and taking a bite yourself. When Keigo sees you do it, he does too, and you’re immediately overwhelmed in compliments.

“Jesus, Y/N, I think I’m calling it,” he says, mouth full of pastry. “I’m completely in love with you. How the hell did you get this good?”

You feel the flush in your cheeks before it shows, and you shrug, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. “I’ve just always had a thing for baking, I guess,” you murmur, placing your half-eaten donut on the counter as you lean against it. “That’s how I got this whole place started.”

Keigo looks at you funny and you realize you haven’t told him too much about your career, so you keep talking. “I started the bakery, like, right out of high school. I already knew that I wanted to bake my whole life, so I never thought about using my quirk to become a hero or going to college or any of that stuff.”

He nods, finishing off his donut in another few bites. The silence is weird, not being filled, and it feels good to talk to him about this, so you keep going, playing with the hem of your apron out of habit. “I know my parents are super proud of me for starting my own business so young, but… I did it so fast, and I worry that they think I’m gonna do everything at that same speed. It just puts a lot of pressure on me, you know?”

When you look at Keigo again, he’s got a certain look in his eyes, and you don’t know what it is. You realize that he probably didn’t want to hear about all of your fears with having your own business and panic flushes through your veins at the sudden thought.

“Oh, sorry, you probably didn’t wanna hear about all that,” you rush out, and Keigo’s quick to respond.

“No, it’s just…” he pauses, tapping his fingers on the counter once, twice. “You just summed up my entire career.”

It’s your turn to look at him funny, and it’s his turn to tell you his sob story. “I was chosen to be a hero when I was, like, ten or eleven or something, and I started my own agency when I was eighteen. I like being known as the hero with speed, as someone who can get shit done, but… it’s a lot, sometimes.”

He meets your eyes, and you’re very aware of the new understanding the two of you share. There’s something different in the way he looks at you, now.

And it’s good.

[random-imagines-blog]

Animal {Avengers Cast x Male Reader}

Requested by: @gameloversblog Wordcount: 1715 Summary: You play a Marvel antihero who has a pretty bad pottymouth. You finally get your own standalone film and invite your castmates over to watch. Warnings: Foul language.

To say that you brought a new life to the controversial character that you were playing was an understatement. Ever since you were young, you wanted to play a comic book superhero, or perhaps more aptly, an anti-hero because you were always a bit naughtier than the characters you grew up with. You swore an almost unprofessional amount, but your charm and skill was enough for you to keep the roles that you had, you requested to do a lot of your own stunts for the thrill of it, and, well, you were a bit of a flirt with everyone that you came across. So when there was a role opening up in the MCU as an anti-hero with a bit of a potty-mouth, you called your manager and told her that she would receive a big bonus if she managed to get you that audition. Needless to say, she got that bonus, and when you got the role, you bought her a brand new car, complete with a big bow on top, and a cut out of yourself for the backseat so she wouldn’t get lonely.

Unfortunately, these were meant to be family movies, and you didn’t get to swear as much as you had initially hoped. You did continue with your language when you messed up, which would never be in the bloopers unless they wanted to get an R rating on their own, and it became a bit of a joke with your castmates. In one scene that you filmed with Chris Evans and Scarlett Johanson, you actually shocked Evans so hard with your language that you missed a fighting cue and genuinely got struck in the head. He didn’t let up about that for a good month, but it was all light-hearted.

The movie was incredibly successful, as you had hoped that it would be. The critics loved it, and there was even praise on the way that you accurately portrayed your character - but there was one complaint. It wasn’t completely true to the character as you hadn’t been able to swear as much as they did. You brought in a couple of ‘hell’, ‘goddamn’ and ‘what the f-’ before you were cut off, but that was the extent that Marvel would let you do. It was literally signed into your contract that you could not improvise.

But now you were all smiles to the press, though your publicist was always on hand to give you a stern look, or clear your throat if your language started to go downhill. “It was fucking amazing!” was something that you couldn’t help but say when journalists asked about your experience. During one particularly memorable interview, you spewed out, “It was so fucking cool, like have you seen this shit? There’s like explosions all the goddamn time, and those are real, they don’t just put that shit in during editing, it’s right there, like holyyy mother of God, there was a time when I was scared I was going to be actually on fire, because of how close it was. Fucking burning up hot like Rhianna’s newest cd, you know?”

That interview showed on TV and had more bleeps than an episode of COPS. And you know that to be true because Robert Downey Jr called and told you that he had compared them as something fun to do. That interview also ended up on some videos of ‘Most cringy interviews’ which you didn’t completely understand. You had a blast, you were being yourself - it was the show hosts who looked baffled.

Out to celebrate the success of the movie making millions in the box office, you and co-star Jeremy Renner decided to hang out at his house with a couple of beers. Now that most of the press was over, and you didn’t have to go to any more premieres, it was so nice to be able to just hang out with friends. You were lounging in his living room, bottle in hand, telling a story about a scene that you did when you were in an action-comedy movie with some other famous actors. “So Mark Wahlberg has that expression on his face, you knew the one, where he looks all confused, like he needs to take a shit and doesn’t know how to get it out?” You laughed, and Jeremy nodded, knowing what you were talking about. “So I took the chance man, I had to take it, I just blew into my elbow and it made the biggest fucking fart sound, I’m talking about camera breaking loud man.”

Between laughs you heard your phone ringing. When you saw your manager’s name, you were expecting her to come down on you hard for swearing in the interviews. You had no idea that your life and your career were about to make a huge turn for the better. “Yo and hello,” You said, smiling at your cheesy line.

“I’m not calling to bitch at you, believe it or not,” Your manager sounded excited about something, which peaked your interest.

“I would never use the word bitch - I’d more say it’s complaining mixed with nagging,” You started. “All of which I know that I deserve. So what’s up, buttercup?”

“You managed to get a starring role, and I mean, big time starring role.”

“Oh, is someone trying to get a big Christmas bonus? What a coincidence that this is happening around the oh so busy clusterfuck of a holiday. You know - I don’t even remember auditioning for anything lately. What is it, what is it?”

Your manager said the name of the character that you had just played, who was originally just supposed to be a one-off character. “You were recieved really well, so they want to give you your own film. With at least a Mature rating so you can use those words you love so much.”

“I can finally say shit, dick, asshole, fuckfest?” You said, growing happy. You legitimately got up from Jeremy’s couch and started to do a happy dance.

“To a degree,” Your manager warned. “We’re still in talks about who is going to do the script, so you might be able to have some say in it...”

“Thank fuck for that. Do you know how hard it was to say darn with a straight face? Who says darn anymore? I wasn’t playing Cap!” Jeremy snickered behind you and you shot him a wide grin. “I’ll even write the script myself if they can’t find the perfect person. I practically am my character, you know.”

“Yes, I know. Everybody knows.” Your manager sighed. “I’ll put in a good word for you, you know that. Just hang tight. They’ll be sending you an announcement soon enough.”

-

Just over a year later, you were sitting in the living room of your spacious home with your best friends and castmates all around you. You managed to get a copy of the film before the premiere, and managed to talk everyone into coming over and watching it. And you, being a devious little thing, created a drinking game.

“Alright, so here’s the rules,” You said, standing in front of the TV before the film started. Your friends stopped talking amongst themselves and looked at you. You grinned like a maniac. Some of the biggest names in Hollywood were hanging out in your house right now. Suck on that critics who thought you’d never make it this far. You were one of them now. “I don’t have enough alcohol in the house to make you all take a shot at every swear-”

You were interrupted by a couple of laughs, so you gave a wink to Paul Rudd who had been the source of a couple of them. “-So how about you guys just have to take a swig of your beer? And a double if you’re referenced in the film.”

“I guess that sounds fair,” Jeremy said, settling into your second-favorite armchair.

“Why do you want us to get so drunk?” Scarlett Johansson asked, raising one of her perfect eyebrows in your direction. You shrugged before taking your seat, the best seat in the house, your favorite overstuffed chair.

“Instagam, snapchat, facebook, tumblr,” You listed off the various social media sites that you could put their drunken pictures up on.

“I think my publicist would actually kill you,” Elizabeth Olsen chimed in, cracking open her own beer.

“Great! Think of the publicity that would generate for the film!” You joked with that same grin. “Marvel Superstar murdered by publicist of Elizabeth Olsen! The tragic story of a drinking game gone wrong! More details inside if you want to play along...”

“Alright, alright, we’ll play along but no cameras, okay?” Chris Evans said, opening a beer of his own. You couldn’t stop smiling. You absolutely loved when you got your way.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen, are you ready for the best Marvel film in the world? Now presenting - me!” You pressed play and the movie started.

Almost immediately, your friends had to start taking drinks because of how often there were curse words. Nothing too bad, but just the usuals. Fuck, shit, damn. Not the overly offensive ones.

Your favorite part was slowly coming up. You kept shooting glances over at Chris Evans, which the others noticed, but said  nothing about. Chris was oblivious, paying more attention to the film rather than to the people around him.

“Darn,” A character in the movie said, albeit a young one.

“Language!” The camera whipped to your character, who was standing there in a heroic pose. Weapon in one hand, charming smile, looking good for the victim whom you just saved. “In this movie, we say fuck.”

The scene had the right effect. Everyone started to laugh, and Anthony Mackie was nudging Chris, encouraging him to take double the drinks.

“You know, I wasn’t in charge of writing that line, but I keep getting the flack from it.” He grudgingly picked up his beer and finished it off while the rest of the group cheered.

[theoneandonlyameliajones]

My Hero

Summary: After the truth of One for All is leaked out to the public, Deku faces a lot of unfriendly criticism. His boyfriend, Shoto is ready to get to the bottom of this scandal and cheer Izuku up.

“The pro-hero Deku has been found to have been born quirkless. Weeks ago we received an anonymous tip that he had been given his quirk from none other than All Might himself. We at Hero newsroom were confused by the allegation at first, but it was confirmed by the villain All for One himself. Not only that, but Izuku Midoriya’s doctor and middle school teacher have both confirmed that he was quirkless before his time at UA.” The male newscaster announced on television.

“Well, that certainly is some big news. We have reached out to Midoriya’s mother as well as colleague Ground Zero. However, neither of them has decided to comment on the situation. The news has shaken the industry, many people have lost respect for Deku. Now, why do you think that is Takashi?” The female newscaster turned back to her colleague.

“It’s simple really, many feel like Deku doesn’t deserve the title as one of the top heroes when he got his quirk from the former symbol of peace. They feel like he cheated on his path to the top. Others feel like if such a transferable quirk did exist it should have gone to someone more capable-”

  Izuku turned off the television not wanting to hear any more. It was all too much for him, the press, the backlash he received from his agency, and the amount of hate mail he’s been getting recently.

 “You okay?” Shoto went over and took a seat by his boyfriend. They had been living together for just over a year now, and in all that time he’s never seen Izuku so deflated. He knew about the scandal that was going around and did not understand why it was that big of a deal. He found out about One for All soon after they started dating. Still, who cares if Izuku was given his quirk, he was still a great hero.

 “As good as I can be.” Izuku sighed, “I don’t know what to do.” Shoto pulled him into a hug, he hated seeing Izuku drained of his spirit. He swore he would beat up whoever tipped the journalists about One for All.

 “I can’t believe what these journalists are saying about you. It’s ridiculous, I know how strong you are Izuku. I watched you go from a boy who would always break his bones to the strongest person I’ve ever met. Whatever flack you’re getting, it’ll blow over I promise.” Shoto kissed his boyfriend on the head. 

 “Thanks, Shoto, I think I just need some time. I’m going to head to bed.” Izuku walked back into the bedroom, leaving Shoto alone on the couch. He knew despite what he told him, Izuku would still feel bad about the situation. If only All Might were still here, he could clear up this entire thing. It didn’t help that Shoto had a live TV interview the next morning. It’s not like he wanted to go, but it was a requirement of his agency to keep on the press’ good side. The public knew that Izuku and Shoto were dating, and his agency didn’t want him to get dragged down with the scandal. When he looked back over at the spot that Izuku occupied earlier, he noticed an envelope. He opened it cautiously. It read:

Dear Deku,

 You are not a real hero, you are just some All Might wannabe. Even with his quirk, you are only half the hero he was. Do us all a favor and give your special “One for All” quirk to someone who can do something useful with it. After you do that, then just disappear. Better yet, why don’t you just go and kill yourself.

 Shoto was ready to erupt into flames while reading the letter. He loved his boyfriend more than the entire world, and looking at this letter, he just wanted to burn it. Still, there was something suspicious about it, so he pocketed it and decided to go out to see a friend. Something was going on here. Shoto walked over to a small storefront sandwiched between an insurance office and a restaurant. There worked a friend of his agency, he went by the name Sike and had the gift of psychometry. He often aided detectives and hero agencies in finding villains.

 “Well, isn’t it the pro-hero Shoto?” Despite his talent, he had a disturbing voice which always made Shoto uncomfortable.

 “Just figure out who wrote this,” the bicolored boy handed the man the letter.

 “Very well.” Sike touched the letter and a soft glow erupted from his fingers. “Worried about your boyfriend are we?” The pro hero glared at him. The glow continued to intensify until it burnt out completely.

 “Well? Who wrote it?” Shoto asked impatiently.

 “Some guy, looked pretty strange if you ask me, blue hair and some sort of hand fetish.”

 “Hand Fetish? Shigaraki? That doesn’t make sense, he was arrested by Deku over two years ago.”

 “And he escaped about two months ago. It wouldn’t surprise me if he was the one leaking the information about your boyfriend.” Sike pulled out a cigar, in this day and age, he was probably one of the only people to still smoke.

 “Does that mean he wants to get rid of Deku? Is this his way of doing so?” he grabbed the letter from Sike angrily.

 “Looks like it, I mean I thought Shigaraki was too dumb for psychological manipulation, but I’ve heard it’s done a number on your boyfriend. Doesn’t seem like he’s been going out much recently, has he?”

 “I’m going to kill him,” Shoto said through gritted teeth.

 “Calm down hero.” He smiled slyly, “Now for your payment.”

 Shoto walked out of there quite ready to beat Shigaraki up. He thought that the League of Villains were finally passed them. When he got home he expected to find Izuku fast asleep, but instead, he was wide awake waiting for him in the living room.

 “Where were you?” the green-haired boy asked worriedly as Shoto came in.

 “This letter,” he pulled it out angrily, “was written by Shigaraki.”

 “Shoto…”

 “I swear I’m going to kill him.”

 “Shoto…”

 “Like what the hell, he probably was the one who leaked information about One for All in the first place. I swear-”

 “Shoto I know! I went to Sike earlier.” The bicolored boy went quiet. 

 “What do you mean you went to Sike? I was just at his place and he never mentioned anything about you coming.”

 “Well, you know that guy is in it for the money. Anyway, I’ve been trying to track Shigaraki down since he escaped and figured this whole thing was because of him,” explained Izuku. “I had Sike confirm it when I got the letter and I’m working on tracking him right now.”

 “But earlier…you seemed so deflated at the news. I read the letter and I thought maybe you were thinking about…” Shoto struggled to say the rest of his sentence, losing Izuku was his biggest fear. 

 “Shoto,” Izuku pulled the taller boy in for an embrace, “I was sad that the public had to find out like this, but I would never even think of leaving you. I know I’m not All Might or the symbol of peace, but All Might sacrificed a lot for that title. I am just Deku, an ordinary pro-hero, but that’s okay because I have friends like Ururaka and Kachan, my mom and most importantly you.”

“I love you Izuku Midoriya,” said Shoto as he settled into the hug.

“I love you too.”

“So, what are you planning to do?” Despite what Izuku told him, Shoto was still worried.

“My agency told me to lay low for a little bit, so I’m not allowed on big rescues for a while. It’s going to be mostly petty criminals and paperwork. Behind the scenes, I’ll be tracking Shigaraki. If he thinks he crushed my spirits, he’ll be more careless and we’ll be able to catch him!” Izuku said excitedly.

“So you're okay with all this?”

“Despite what people say about me or my borrowed power, I’m going to still work on saving them because actions speak louder than words, right? I never became a hero for the praise, I became a hero so I can help people.” Shoto’s heart swelled at Izuku’s words. He wondered if it was humanly possible to love a person this much.

“So, my hero interview tomorrow. Will you be able to come?” Izuku looked at him puzzled. They tried to support each other as much as possible, but with their busy schedules, they didn’t have time to attend each other's interviews and public events. Moreover, it was frowned upon because the questions asked would often concern their relationship. Even if Izuku wanted to go, he couldn’t due to his agency’s policies.

“Unfortunately, I can’t due to agency restrictions,” Izuku watched Todoroki’s face fall, “but I’ll make sure to watch it on T.V.” Shoto gave him a soft smile and proceeded to pull him in for a kiss which caused Izuku to blush. It wasn’t like his boyfriend to normally be this affectionate.

The next day Shoto was preparing for his hero interview. He hated interviews, to him they were the worst formality about being a hero. Still, his agency insisted that he give one.

“Shoto, make sure you don’t mention anything about your boyfriend’s quirk-scandal, or anything about Deku at all.” urged his publicist. His agency wanted to get as far away from the scandal as possible. As he sat down with the interviewer on the stage, he felt a familiar sense of dread. Still, at least this time he had something he wanted to say.

Back at his agency, Deku had the T.V playing as he filled out paperwork. He knew Shoto hated interviews, but he oddly didn’t seem to hate this one as much.

“Now joining me is pro-hero Shoto, everyone give him a welcoming applause.” Izuku smiled at the screen. Shoto was a popular hero, which made him proud. The only time he would get jealous is when ladies would approach his boyfriend. The rest of the interview carried on as expected and the interviewer talked about Shoto as a pro-hero and recent villains he had defeated. That was until one question caught Izuku’s attention.

 “So, I know that you and Deku have been in a relationship for quite a while now. What is your opinion on his quirk-scandal?” This earned a confused murmuring from the audience. There were certain subjects you didn’t touch on interviews like this and Izuku was sure Shoto’s publicist had talked to the interviewer beforehand.

 “Well, that certainly has been a discussion in our household,” explained Shoto. When he looked back towards his publicist, he could see that she was a nervous wreck. He was going to have to apologize later for all of this. “That being said I think the public is blowing this all out of proportion. Yes, Deku’s quirk was not what he was born with, but All Might chose him for a reason. Let me tell you, he had to struggle with that quirk for a while. His body totally rejected it and he ended up with many broken bones, but even then he kept trying. He worked hard and made that quirk his own. Now, he is a very capable hero. I think he is the greatest hero Japan could ask for. All he wants to do is help people and even with people cursing his name every 5 minutes, he still wants to help them. That’s why he is my hero.”

 “Well, that certainly is an interesting take on it.” said the interviewer. Shoto was happy, he hoped Izuku heard what he had said. He hoped the public realized how much of an amazing hero his boyfriend was. 

 Izuku’s eyes filled with tears, Shoto was defending him on live television. He knew Shoto was warned against it, but he still decided to address the public. He felt so lucky to have such a great boyfriend. “I love you Shoto Todoroki,” he muttered under his breath. Later that night, he would say the same thing to his boyfriend as they enjoyed each other's company well past midnight.

[trashinaglass-archive]

Bad Trip

Hands Off Part Two

Request: can u write imagine about tom coming back to hotel and freaking out about the paparazzi incident

A/n: This was a separate request but they came in one after the other and fit perfectly and I’m excited😁

You woke up to Tom rustling around, getting ready for his day. He had a schedule full of events that you were previously excited to attend with him, but that was all going to be put to a halt. You sat up in the bed, watching Tom as he turned at the sound of you moving.

“Morning, love,” he said, moving to stand in front of where you sat and placing a kiss to your forehead as you leaned into him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay. I just wish I could go with you,” you said softly. Your head resting on his chest as he held you, hands rubbing over your back.

“Maybe you can meet us when you get done at the doctors?”

You smiled at the suggestion, “we’ll see.” You looked up at him, placing a kiss to his lips, and standing up to move to the bathroom. You winced feeling the pain in your ankle, slowly limping across the room.

“Are you going to be able to get there by yourself?” Tom asked as he watched you struggle to get to the bathroom. “Why don’t you take Harry with you. Last thing we need is for you to fall and get even more hurt.”

You leaned against the wall as you turned to look at Tom again. “Then who’s going to be there to film all your adventures?” You joked. You were already upset with yourself having to miss out- you didn’t want to force Harry to miss out too.

“Trust me, so many people. He’ll probably be thankful for a few hours away from all of us,” he tried to assure you. You sighed, accepting that Tom wasn’t going to let you go alone. He couldn’t go with you himself, but he could definitely send someone with you.

“As long as he doesn’t hate me for stealing him away,” you answered.

“He won’t, y/n, I promise,” Tom told you with a laugh. “And if he does, I’ll beat him up for you.”

You laughed at his joke, “my hero.”

. . .

You made it to the doctor’s office, Harry helping you walk in without having to limp or worry about falling. Like Tom, he made sure to assure you that he was okay with missing out on the mornings events. You were taken back and seen by the doctor after a long wait where you took x-rays and tested your range of motion before he told you the news. Just as great as you thought they would be.

The doctor left you alone, giving you time to call Tom and tell him the news.

“What’s the verdict?” He asked as soon as he answered the phone.

“Not broken but severely sprained. He said just a smidge more pressure and we would’ve been looking at surgery, but thankfully it wasn’t. But I can’t put any weight on it so I’ll be in a boot with crutches for the next few months.”

You heard Tom sigh, “I’m sorry, Princess.” He shared the information with someone that was with him before speaking to you again. “Will you be able to join us tonight?” He asked hopefully.

“I don’t know, Tom. I don’t want to slow you guys down and with how crowded it’ll probably be...”

“Yeah- no, I understand. You should probably be resting it anyways.” The disappointment in Tom’s voice broke your heart.

“I’m still definitely going to the premiere though. I just need to find a new dress- I had a gown, and I’m not going to be able to wear that with this boot,” you started thinking out loud.

“Don’t worry about it, we’ll get you something. Even if it takes an emergency visit from Law- I’ll make sure you’re the most beautiful girl on that carpet. And we can get your boot bedazzeled also if you want it,” Tom began to speak excitedly. He was scared that you wouldn’t be able to go, but he was determined to do everything in his power to make sure you are not only there, but that you are comfortable and happy and have so much fun.

“Slow down, cowboy,” you said with a laugh. “I think the bedazzeled boot would be a bit much.”

“Sorry, I just want you to enjoy your time at the premiere. Not be upset because you’re injured.”

“I appreciate it, but that night is about you, Tom. And as long as you’re happy, I’ll be happy,” you told him. You laughed as Harry made a face and let out an ‘ew’ at how cheesy you sounded. “Love you, Pete.”

“That’s not my name,” he replied, trying to sound mad but not able to control his giggle. “I love you, too.” You were ready to hang up the phone when your heard yelling causing you to bring the phone back to your ear. “Jacob says hi by the way.”

You laughed at the sweet friend of Tom’s. “Hi, Jacob.”

“Hey, y/n! Sorry about your foot, but it’s good you can still go to the premiere. You’ll have so much fun,” Jacob said.

“That’s the plan. I’m invincible- sprained ankle can’t stop me,” you joked making him laugh. You heard Jacob laugh before Tom took the phone back saying ‘bye’ once again before hanging up. The doctor walked back in shortly after, fitting you for the boot and showing you how to use all of its features.

“Do you want me to stay here with you?” Harry asked when you got back to the hotel, placing the crutches on the wall beside your spot on the bed while you sat on said bed.

“If you want to go meet up with Tom and them, that’s fine. I don’t really plan on leaving the bed for the rest of the day,” you told him.

“You sure?” He asked again. “I don’t mind staying.”

“No- go have fun,” you told him.

“Okay, call if you need anything,” he said before walking out the door leaving you alone. You scooted back to lay on the bed, turning the tv on to a random channel and sliding under the covers, not bothering to take the boot off.

Hours pass and you find yourself watching Tom on Stephen Colbert. You smiled as you heard him talk, seeing his smile and hearing his laugh making you feel better. You were worried Colbert might bring up the airport incident, but thankfully he didn’t. Tom left not too long into the program, heading straight back to the hotel. You grabbed your phone off the bedside table when you heard it vibrate.

Harry: Just a heads up, Tom is pretty mad about something that happened earlier

“Thanks” you send back simply, wondering what had happened. A few minutes later, Tom walked in, throwing the contents of his pockets on the counter. “What happened?” You asked softly. You heard him sigh and shake his head before turning back to you.

“What didn’t happen?” He asked angrily. “We’re at the Empire State Building first and there was a huge crowd of people wanting pictures and autographs, which is usually fine, but they couldn’t just stop. They just kept pushing and screaming- I tried to tell them to calm down, but they wouldn’t listen. I just fucking walked away.

“And then at the Colbert show, before it started there was a line of people waiting behind some barrier things and these huge, grown ass men are literally crushing this girl against the metal. Like on her knees, getting choked out because some meatheads want to make money off a stupid pen scribble. It’s pathetic- fucking ridiculous.”

“Is she okay?” You asked, hoping she didn’t go home with a panic attack or something.

“She told me she was, but I don’t know. I just can’t believe how they’re acting. Fucking men that probably don’t even know who I am for real are so worried about getting a signature, they’re hurting young girls. My girlfriend included. I can’t even process it.”

“Tom, it’s okay,” you tried to calm him, but he wouldn’t take it.

“It’s not! It’s not fucking okay. That girl was basically choked, you have a sprain that almost needed surgery, and you’d never admit it but I know the back of your head is hurt too. Who knows how many other people haven’t gotten hurt like that. They shouldn’t be allowed to do that shit. And there’s nothing I can do about it either- that’s what pisses me off the most.”

“Tom- stop,” you said firmly, needing him to calm down and hear you out. “What did you do when you saw her?”

“I told the guys to back off- threw their shit on the ground. I talked to her, made sure she was okay and that they weren’t touching her anymore.”

“And when hammy touched me, you knocked his lights out,” you reminded him. “Tom, you are doing everything you can to take care of the situations you’re handed, and that’s all you’re responsible for. I’m sure that girl is over the moon that you did what you did when you could’ve just walked away. You can’t control someone else’s actions, but you can step in and try to help. And you did. Be mad about their actions as much as you want, but don’t be mad at yourself for what you can’t control.”

“Yeah, note taken,” he said with a huff. He sat on the bed next to you, wanting to distract himself from the topic. He pulled the blanket off your leg to reveal the chunky boot you wore. “You have to sleep in it?” He asked.

“No,” you replied. Tom took that as his cue to remove it from your leg- unclasping the velcro and gently sliding it off your foot. He took the time to inspect your ankle where the damage was.

“It looks a lot worse today,” he said quietly. “Darker bruise, more swelling. Does it still hurt?”

“When I move it, yeah, but the doctor gave me some pain meds for it so it’s no big deal.”

“That’s good,” he said mostly to himself. “I spoke with my publicist about tomorrow, and I have the entire afternoon off to take you shopping- find something for you to wear to the premiere that’ll look lovely with your beautiful new boot.”

“You didn’t have to do that, Tommy,” you declared, but you couldn’t help the smile that graced your face. It touched your heart that he was willing to make time to help you find a new outfit. “I could’ve gone by myself.”

“I know, but I want to,” he simply said, looking at you with a smile. “Besides how are you going to pick something without my expert opinion?”

You reached over and smacked him, your smile mimicking his own. He leaned over to kiss you once before standing up and doing his nightly routine. “How did you know my head was hurt?”

“Last night- I was wide awake and started to play with your hair. I guess I moved some strands that were connected to that spot because you winced and moved your head back.”

“Why did I react if I was asleep?”

“I don’t think you were fully asleep, yet. Or if you were, it was a light sleep,” Tom answered. It amazed you the things he noticed about you, as if he studied your every move.

He made his way back to the bed, sliding under the covers and cuddling into you with his chest to your back. He made sure to be careful where he moved his feet, not wanting to accidentally kick your injured ankle. You intertwined your fingers together when he wrapped his arm around your waist. Bringing his hand to your mouth, you place a kiss to his knuckle.

“You’re the best boyfriend ever, Tommy.”

“Yeah?” He responded sleepily. “It’s the least I could do for my gorgeous girl.”

Tom nuzzled his face into your shoulder, placing a kiss to the exposed skin. You fell asleep feeling comforted, happy, and safe in the arms of your love.

Tag list: @rexorangecouny (Add yourself here)

[margoshansons]

The Killing Kind (17/17)

Part Seventeen. 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 

MASTERLIST

Final word count: 24.8k

Summary: The kids escape from the trip of hell and finally find some peace back home.

Warnings: Anger issues. Threats.

Notes: Man so this is it. This is the end and final chapter of this amazing series. Thank you all so much for commenting and liking and reblogging. Please remember that while she and Peter are the main ship, this is Y/N’s story. Without further ado, here is the final chapter of the Killing Kind. I hope you guys enjoy it.

Y/N ignored her limp wrist as she made her way to the hotel Mr. Harrington had decided to book last second. She didn’t want to think about how her mother might not be human. She didn’t want to think about her dad locked up in a high profile prison, legally dead to the rest of the world. She didn’t want to think about the fact that the board at her dad’s failing company needed her as the next CEO. 

She just wanted to collapse onto a fluffy bed and sleep off the pain that spun through her body. 

“Thank god you’re alright!” MJ’s body crashed into hers, the extra momentum sending her spinning. Y/N pulled away, meeting her friend’s red eyes. “I was so worried I would never see you again.”

Y/N stood there, staring at MJ. She was alive. She was here. She was safe. She was real. Y/N pulled her back in for a hug, tears escaping involuntarily.

“Oh my god you’re real” She whispered, voice breaking. “You’re here and you’re real and you’re safe.”

MJ sighed, a smile crawling across her face in relief. “I was worried you would leave me alone with that sweaty guy forever.”

The pair chuckled, pulling away to share a wide smile, tears mirroring each other on both girl’s cheeks. 

“Told you I’d be back” Y/N joked, laughter exploding from her chest. Ned gave her a small pat on her shoulder, reassurance. But she didn’t see the person she was worried about most. “Where’s Peter?”

Ned piped up with the answer, “He’s in his room. May called him, wanted to make sure he was okay after everything.”

Y/N nodded, making her way up the stairs. 

“Y/N wait!” MJ called, racing up after her. “I uh, I wanted to say that uh,”

Y/N smirked at her attempt to be more vulnerable. 

“I’m really grateful to have you as a friend,” MJ said, before turning to head toward her room, trying to hide the blush on her cheeks.

Y/N let out a breath, and she knocked on Peter’s door. The beaten-up boy stood there, phone in hand, EDITH on his face. 

“Hey” He breathed.

“Hey” Y/N replied. “Can I come in?” Peter nodded his head, stuttering out an invitation, hastily tidying up what little belongings he had left after the explosion. They stood there, hormones raging as the two tried to figure out their feelings internally. 

They had kissed on the plane.

He had given her a necklace. But what did it mean?

“Peter–” She was cut off with a quick kiss. Soft and awkward.

“That uh, that necklace means what you think it means,” Peter confessed bashfully. 

She fingered the small charm, placing a kiss near the corner of his mouth before wrapping her arms around him. They stayed that way the rest of the night, snuggling together on the bed, their shared trauma keeping them both awake, but the comfort of their embrace allowing them to fall asleep.

***

The plane ride back was going to be long if the way Betty and Flash were staring at her was any indication. She didn’t plan on accidentally revealing her powers to the two, but she seriously had no idea that they were going to be there with MJ and Ned.

“Everything okay?” Peter’s voice asked. 

Y/N stared at her now-boyfriend, grabbing his hand in earnest, plastering a smile on her face. Pretending like her dad wasn’t still alive. Pretending that SHIELD hadn’t just confirmed that everything her father had said was true after testing her DNA for any traces of Aliens. 

They couldn’t even pinpoint where she was from. Just that her energy signature matched Thor’s. 

“Yeah,” She lied, “Everything’s fine.”

She leaned into Peter’s shoulder, her eye-catching MJ shuffling in next to Mr. Harrington and the other chaperone who had been converted to witchcraft over the course of the trip. 

“I uh, I have to do something,” Y/N told Peter, who saw where her eyes were. 

“Go ahead,” Peter encouraged, “I’ll uh, I’ll take one for the team.”

Y/N smiled widely, pecking Peter’s cheek while she approached Mr. Harrington.

“Um, Mr. Harrington?” She nervously caught her teacher’s attention. 

“Y/N!” He replied, “Is everything okay?”

She shared an apologetic look with Peter. “Actually no, I think Peter’s perfume allergies are acting up around me and I was wondering if I could sit next to MJ”

“Say no more” Harrington stood up immediately, taking Y/N’s former seat, allowing the girl to sit next to her best friend.

“Trouble in paradise?” MJ asked, pulling her earbuds out. 

Y/N smirked, “Actually, I just can’t stand him. Needed an excuse to get out of there” She joked, grateful this trip hadn’t ruined the one relationship that mattered to her.

MJ chuckled at the sarcastic humor, offering her dual port to the girl as a peace offering. Y/N took it.

“So which true-crime documentary do you wanna watch today?” MJ asked, scrolling through the movie options.”We got Gacey, Lizzie Borden, Ted Bundy,”

“Oh Bundy for sure” Y/N replied, leaning into the taller girl’s shoulder. “His whole case just proves why assholes shouldn’t be allowed in our legal system.”

MJ clicked on the movie and the two girls snuggled in as the plane took off. 

“Hey” MJ nudged her friend’s shoulder, Y/N perked up.”Do you think Peter would be able to give me a ride one of these days?”

Y/N shoved her best friend’s shoulder playfully, the two giggling as they made their way home.

Mid Credits

“Hey MJ!” Peter called, meeting the girl in her neighborhood. “Y/N told me you wanted a ride?” They swung from the highest buildings in New York, MJ’s screams as she free fell ringing through the atmosphere, Peter almost sure that THor could hear her back on Asgard.

They landed in Times Square, MJ’s hair frazzled and her eyes wide in fear. 

“Yeah, that settles it” She announced, “I am never doing that again.”

Peter chuckled involuntarily at the blushing teen, her hair wild and frizzy like Y/N’s got every time they went for a swing.

“Where is Y/N?” MJ asked, “I thought she was meeting us here for coffee”

Peter rubbed the back of his neck at the question. “She’s uh, she’s dealing with her dad’s stuff.”

The relationship between the two of them was still a bit of a sore spot between Y/N and Peter, especially since Mysterio tried to kill him only a few days ago. It helped that his girlfriend felt the same way he did about Mysterio, but the relation was still there. She still had to go to the funeral. She was still a part of that fucked up family.

His reverie was broken by the screen lighting up behind him. He turned around to see Quentin Beck’s face.

“I managed to send the elemental back through the dimensional rift but I don’t think I’ll get off this bridge alive” Beck rambled, “Spiderman attacked me for some reason, he–he has an army of weaponized drones, Stark Technology”

Peter shared a look with MJ, wishing Y/N was here instead to soothe his rising nerves.

“He’s saying he’s the one who’s going to be the next Iron Man, no one else” Beck continued, before the video cut to a clearly altered video snippet.

“Are you sure you want to commence the drone attack?” EDITH”s clean voice came in over the speakers, “There will be significant casualties”

“Do It” Peter’s own voice startled him. “Execute them all”

No, no, no, no, no. That was taken out of context. All of it was!

“There you have it folks” J Jonah Jameson spat, “Undeniable proof that Spiderman was responsible for the brutal murder of Mysterio. An interdimensional warrior sent to protect our planet along with his daughter, who has now become an orphan thanks to this menace.”

Peter shook his head. Please let Y/N refute this, let her take care of this. 

“But that’s not all folks, brace yourselves you may want to sit down.”

Peter watched as Mysterio released the most valuable information of Peter’s. He watched as Mysterio tore his life apart with six words.

“Spiderman’s real name is Peter Parker!”

His picture was posted all across the square, everyone knew who he was. Everyone.

“We have an exclusive interview with Y/N Beck aka Stasis commenting on her father’s death and her relation to the masked menace.” Jameson continued.

Peter watched as Y/N stood behind a podium, lawyers on her left, publicist on her right. Her black mourning dress was covered by a green velvet jacket, but when Peter squinted, he saw the sunflower adorning her neck and he knew that she was on his side.

“My father loved creating illusions” Y/N admitted, addressing the crowds of reporters. “He loved them so much he somehow managed to create the biggest one after his death. Spiderman did not kill my father, in fact, he is the only reason I lived through that traumatic experience. My father’s death was caused by his own carelessness, and while I want someone to blame more than anyone, Spiderman is not that person. My father’s last words were about how people want to believe. So let’s believe. This child is not a menace, nor is he the hero you assume he is. Spiderman has saved our lives countless times, let’s believe in him rather than videos that can be easily doctored, thank you”

As she left reporters began to hound her once again, her publicist shooing them away while Peter watched his life and his girlfriend’s life fall apart.

Post Credits

The prison stank of sweat and testosterone but that didn’t deter Quentin as he was escorted from his solitary cell to the visiting room. His orange jumpsuit was hideous and hardly comfortable, but he could ignore all of that. 

After six months, he was finally going to see his daughter again.

She looked older. Like somehow she had aged several years in his absence. Maybe she was miserable without her dad. Maybe she was here to help him with his case. Maybe she was here to bail him out. 

Her sunken eyes hardened at the sight of him, his smile never leaving his face as he gazed upon the girl that was his light, his life, the only reason he never went mad in this dull excuse for a secure prison.

“New Jacket?” Quentin asked pointing toward the teal that enwrapped her shoulders. 

‘I know what you did Dad” was all Y/N said in response. “I know what you did to Peter”

Quentin went silent at the boy’s name. 

He deserved it. He had ruined everything. He deserved to have his life torn apart like Quentin’s was.

“It’s not just his life that has been ruined” Y/N urged, eyebrows creasing, “I have reporters daily knocking on our doors, asking all about you and Spiderman.”

“I didn’t mean for that to happen honey” Quentin leaned forward to grab her hand. She ripped it out again.

“Don’t call me that” Y/N spat. “You’ve interfered in my life long enough. Leave my friends alone or I will come in here and kill you myself.”

He scoffed. “You don’t have it in you. You said it yourself, You’ll never be like me. You can’t kill me”

His throat constricted, the blue energy surrounding his neck, squeezing his breath from his lungs.

“You forget,” Y/N threatened, anger lacing her eyes, “I inherited your temper. And we’re surrounded by SHIELD agents who wouldn’t care if I stole every last breath from you. So leave my friends alone, because love is like any other emotion daddy,” She taunted.

 “It. Fades.”

He regained his air back, breathing returning to his lungs like a drug addict to heroin. 

“Do we have an understanding?” Something dark swirled in the eyes of the girl he had raised. Something he had created. 

He nodded, the guards escorting him back to his cell, a new cellmate waiting for him.

“Hey, buddy” The grey-haired man offered his hand, “Adrian Toomes, nice to meet you.”

***

Y/N scanned the papers scattered across the table in her father’s old apartment. She officially got it in the ‘will’. It was hers now. Paid for and a home she can build for herself instead of the old musty church she had found months ago. 

She and her lawyers were currently working with Stark Industries to buildup her father’s company once again. It was all her idea. A great publicity stunt to show how much her father had respected the late hero, regardless of their rocky past. Unfortunately, that included hiring her as CEO, as well as repairing the shitshow that was their relationship with Spiderman.

Her chest constricted when she thought of Peter. Forced into hiding. Unable to even go to school. The last she had heard from him he was somewhere in Africa. Happy assured her that he was safe. But she would be lying if she said she didn’t miss him and Aunt May. 

She really only had MJ and Ned now. And while Flash was treating her better, she really only wanted Peter with her. 

The wind fluttered behind her and she sighed, upset at MJ for leaving the window open again. As she turned around her eyes met green.

A slender woman stood in her living room, dressed head to toe in a green dress that looked like it belonged at a gala instead of a run-down apartment in New York City. 

“Who the hell are you?” Y/N asked, crossing her arms in an attempt to look intimidating.

“The names Lorelei sweetpea” The woman’s silky voice uttered, taking in every bit of the teen before her. “But you can call me Mum.”

AHHHH! That’s it! Thank you all so much for your kind comments and follows and likes and reblogs. This was my first time trying something like this and I loved it! I hoped you guys enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. 

Special thanks to:

@petersblake @editsbyjenny @kaylinfayezink @leilei-draws and @santa-feigh for being there since the beginning and commenting on almost every single post, reblogging always, and recommending me.

And a very special thanks to:

@thatsuperherosidekick for always liking my posts and never failing to enter my ask box and freak out with me about this story and everything about it.

For everyone who commented, liked, reblogged, or recommended, thank you so much and for everyone tagged, thank you. You guys kept me writing this and I’m so grateful to all of you. Hugs and kisses.

TAG LIST: CLOSED

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My next series will be a Steve Harrington x reader, but that won’t be out for a little while. If you want to be tagged in that, or if you want to request more Marvel imagines, please send me an ask or let me know! Once again, thank you all so much for your support. I couldn’t have done this without you guys.

[ill-find-something-better-later]

Listen, I dont always write fanfic, but when I do it’s because the story exploded into my head and would not let me rest until it was out of my system. So here’s two straight days of frantic word vomit in the form of a 7k Reddie fix-it fic, enjoy

~~~

    Eddie woke up alone, and trapped. The cistern had collapsed, and it was a miracle that he had ended up in a little pocket of air, sitting like he was under a tree in a nice meadow rather than the ruins of a killer alien clown’s underground lair.

    He took a deep breath—at least, he tried to. The air was laden with dust, and his chest hurt like someone had torn it open.

    Which was, he remembered with a shudder, exactly what had happened.

    Despite his best efforts, he started to panic. His breath came fast and ragged. He had no idea where his inhaler had gone, and he just knew the air around him was probably as thick with toxins as it was with deep, ominous, terrifying silence. With one desperate, adrenaline-fueled shove, he pushed at the debris above him. It fell away with ease.

    What had once been a massive, twisted cavern, the home of nightmares, was now nothing more than sea of rubble. Eddie looked around in horror. There was nothing, absolutely nothing; no signs of clowns, or lepers, or Losers, or even a fight at all. He called out, but his voice wouldn’t come. He coughed—then quickly fell into a fit of coughing—and tried again. Nothing but his own echo.

    Panic came full force.

    Eddie scrambled out of his hole, his grave, and stared wildly at the remains of the cistern. He couldn’t breathe. The wound on his chest was closed, but it was burning like mad and, by god, he had died. At least, he was pretty sure he had died. That’s what typically happens after a giant monster punches a gaping hole into your chest. And if he had died, then anyone else could have died, too. Any of the Losers—Bev, Mike, Ben, Bill, Richie—could be buried less miraculously under the ancient debris of fucking Neibolt.

    "They’re fine,“ he said aloud to no one. To himself. His voice was the only thing keeping him from blacking out. “I’m fine, so they’re fine, everybody’s fucking fine—”

    He stopped, realizing for the first time that he was fine. Filthy, exhausted, bleeding in a few places, and sore literally everywhere, but fine. And somehow alive again, despite being convinced that he had definitely died.

    "I’ve got to get the fuck out of here,“ he whispered.

~~~

    The Losers, or what remained of them, stayed in Derry for over a week after everything had ended. Bev wasn’t ready to go home, back to real life and her shithead soon-to-be-ex husband. Ben stayed for her. Bill and Mike had been trying to help wherever they could, and Richie…

    Richie could hardly get out of bed.

    His phone had been ringing constantly since before they had even faced the clown. Angry managers and publicists trying to drag him back to LA. But now more than ever, he couldn’t face them, couldn’t face anyone. Richie was different now, with all these memories crammed back into his head, all this fear, and regret—all this fucking love that would never have anywhere to go. How could he possibly just go back, pretend nothing was different?

    The others came to him in shifts. For the first couple days, he wouldn’t even let them in, but it got too annoying to listen to them through the door.

    Bill tried to relate, sharing stories about Georgie that were more comforting than Richie wanted to admit. He stuttered less, now that Pennywise was gone, but he was especially smooth when he spoke of his brother.

    Mike assured him that it was all over. They were free. He said Eddie was a hero and, yeah, Richie fucking knew that, and it didn’t make it any easier, didn’t make the hole in Richie’s heart any fucking smaller. But it was nice to remember, if only briefly, the determined jut of Eddie’s jaw, the spark in his eyes.

    Ben was obviously a lot more clever than Richie had ever given him credit for. He knew way too much. Richie tried not to flinch when he mentioned how “especially close” he and Eddie had been. But Richie wasn’t blind either, and he figured Ben’s thing for Bev wasn’t that different, really. Except Bev was still alive.

    Bev. Richie had always been close with her. They had bonded a lot over vicious rumors and cigarettes, once Richie had warmed up to her.

    She didn’t say much. The first time she came in to see him she had simply sat down in a chair by the bed, and offered him a smoke.

    "The detectors don’t even work,“ she had said. “I already checked.”

    This had produced the first thing even slightly resembling a smile on Richie’s face. “Good ol’ Bevers,” he slurred into his pillow. “Raised like a real scoundrel.”

    They had sat together like that for a long time, Richie slumped against the headboard, smoking like a chimney. It didn’t do much for him, but the habit was familiar. And sitting up, at least, had to be a step in the right direction.

~~~

    As it turns out, getting stabbed through the chest, dying, being buried in rubble, and then coming back to life really fucking sucks.

    Eddie had managed to dig his way out of the cavern, though he had cut his hands up in the process. It wasn’t the way they had come, if that way was even still standing. He had crawled for a while through a small tunnel, trying and failing to ignore how filthy the stone was, and the open wounds on his hands and face. Every movement sent a shot of pain across his chest. At one point, he had stopped and checked on it, only for his heart to skip several beats when he saw the angry red scar across his ribs.

    "I should be dead,“ he said to himself. “I totally died.”

    Without his inhaler, Eddie hadn’t managed to take a good deep breath since he woke up, so his only comfort was ranting aloud. Part of him was worried he might draw unwanted attention, but there had been no sign of Pennywise in hours. Or maybe minutes.

    "Hard to tell when you’re fucking underground.“

    Eventually the tunnel widened, and he was able to stand. His legs protested, and the pain in his chest made little black flecks dance across his vision, but he did it anyway. The floors were still uneven and the walls were slimy, slowing his progress. A few times he wondered if he would ever make it out, if he would be stuck down here forever. Maybe he wasn’t even going the right way. Maybe Pennywise’s last trick was to resurrect him just so he could die alone, covered in filth, in a fucking sewer.

    "Fuck that,” he muttered hoarsely. “Fuck that, and fuck him. You can do this, Eddie, just keep moving.”

    He pictured the other Losers, alive and well and waiting for him. A few times, he caught himself smiling, picturing their faces when he turned up in one piece.

    Bill would lose his mind. He had waited a long time for someone he had lost to come back, and Eddie was doing just that.

    Mike would ask a million questions. Call Eddie a hero or something, which would be ridiculous because he hadn’t even fucking killed the thing.

    Bev would probably cry. So would Ben, if he had to guess. Eddie might cry, too, even if Richie teased him for it.

    Eddie liked to think that Richie might, for once, just shut the fuck up.

    Eddie liked to think that maybe, for once, he would force him to.

~~~

    By the end of the second week, Richie was mobile. He would drag himself out of bed for the sake of getting some coffee, or some bourbon to pour into it. His friends would cheer him on in their own ways, and it wasn’t nearly as pitiful as it sounded.

    "Baby steps,“ Bill would say to him, "it’s all about b-b-ba-baby steps.”

    The weather was too nice. Richie found it profoundly inconsiderate to his mood. He would open the window in his room to smoke with Bev, despite the dead smoke detectors, because he could still hear Eddie in his mind.

    "You’re sucking in first and second hand smoke, dumbass. That’s twice the cancer. Besides, those smoke detectors are there for a goddamn reason, you know. This place is one giant fucking fire hazard, really, someone should call the fire department, or OSHA, or something because—”

    Richie would let the rant play out in his head, which was probably pathetic. But it was all he had, and if he had to leave Derry eventually, forget about Eddie forever, then he would cling to that nagging ghost as long as he fucking could.

    It was on the tenth day post-Neibolt that Bev asked him what his plans were. She wasn’t the first to ask, but she was the only one Richie felt obligated to actually answer. Which is why he had hoped she never would.

    "I mean, what else is a hack comedian supposed to do?“ He shrugged, an effort to look fine when he really, really wasn’t and probably never would be. “I’ll go back to LA eventually. Maybe I’ll even still have a career if I’m real polite about it.”

    "I get it,“ Bev said, blowing a cloud of smoke out the window. "I don’t think I could ever feel ready. But we can’t hide here forever.”

    "Maybe you can’t.“

    "Rich.”

    "Don’t “Rich” me,“ he said lightly. "I could totally just spend the rest of my days wallowing in this room until I wither up and die. Can’t be hard.”

    "Eddie wouldn’t want that.”

    Fuck that. Fuck that, and fuck Derry, and fuck evil clowns, and fuck absolutely everything else.

    "Eddie had a wife to go home to,“ Richie snapped, voice breaking. "So does Bill, and you have Ben, and Ben has you. What do I have? A big, empty apartment where I can drink myself into a coma and hopefully forget that I’m forgetting him? Fuck that.”

    Bev blinked at him, cigarette dangling between her fingers like she had forgotten she was holding it. “Richie, is that what you’re worried about? Forgetting again?”

    He stared at her, and then stared out the window, taking a drag. “What can I say, I’m a weepy little bitch. Sue me.”

    Bev rolled her eyes, which was as comforting as it was insulting, honestly. “You won’t,” she said insistently.

    "What?“

    "You’re not going to forget Eddie.”

    "How the fuck do you know? What, the ol’ clown sent out a memo that I missed or something?“

    She laughed, and the sound was so unexpected that Richie snapped his mouth shut with a muted click.

    "You won’t for the same reason that I won’t forget you, or Bill, or Mike. We’re friends, Richie, we’re Losers. Pennywise is gone and we’re the ones who killed him. He can’t take our lives from us anymore.”

    Richie hadn’t thought of that. Mostly because his thoughts had been occupied with Eddie’s lovely eyes, his sharp smile, the sound of his voice, and all the other flavors of him that Richie would never taste again. He had been so frantic at the thought of losing those memories that he hadn’t considered that he never would.

    He couldn’t leave Derry with Eddie by his side, but he could at least carry the memory of him. And, shit, that had to be worth something.

~~~

    That was a light. Eddie was certain of it, that was a light!

    He had been trudging through sewer water for what felt like days. His body was screaming for him to stop, and he had never ignored so many of his own maladies in his life. The tunnel had gone from uneven rock, to uneven brick, and Eddie had briefly convinced himself that he had turned around and was headed back into Its lair.

    Then the brick became smoother, worked, rounded. When Eddie realized that he was now walking through the sewers of Derry, he actually teared up a little. He never thought he’d be so happy while standing ankle deep in grey water.

    And now, finally, finally, he could see the literal light at the end of the tunnel. It was faint at first, and he had already had a few false starters—the glint off of a glass bottle, a trick of the eye. This time, however, the light grew as he moved closer.

    He broke into a jog, though it was more of a controlled stagger. Water sloshed loudly around him, dragging at his feet, and the sound echoed through the tunnels.

    Eddie started to panic again. He was so close.

    What if this was Pennywise’s last trick? What if Eddie was still trapped down there, and this was all just an elaborate vision? The tunnel would collapse right before he escaped. That awful laughter would float up from behind him. The water would rise, his wounds would reopen. He would die all over again. He would never see Richie, would never hear his dumb jokes or his stupid laugh. He would never get the chance to shut him up the way he had always wanted to. He was so close now, dammit, so close…

    Sunlight.

    Warm, blessed evening sunlight.

~~~

    The Losers finally departed from Derry in sequence. Bill went first, since he had a deadline, but it took a day and a half of convincing to get him going. Ben and Bev left together, and despite himself, Richie wished them the best.

    He was going to miss them. They never would have left until Richie was okay again, and although he was far from fine, he was no longer scared to leave all of this behind. It was actually kind of baffling, to think that he had been nervous to leave Derry fucking Maine in the rearview.

    Still, he didn’t leave until the afternoon. The New England sun was nice this time of year, and Richie was trying so hard to focus on that instead of bottomless chasm in his heart. His future felt empty in a way it never had before. Apparently forgetting Eddie while he was still alive left Richie with more hope than remembering him dead. Funny how that works.

    Only it wasn’t funny at all.

    When he finally loaded his things into the car, and said a final farewell to Mike, it was well past noon. Richie took the long way out of town, hoping for one last grab at closure.

    He had been to the kissing bridge a handful of times, back when he was growing up, but no more than anyone else. Mostly because he was terrified of the one spot in the whole world where he had let his secret see the light of day. As he pulled up to the old bridge, he dug around for his pocket knife.

    The carving was faded, weathered to match the wood around it. Richie crouched down and ran the point of his knife over the letters until they were stark enough that he could read them through the tears in his eyes.

    R+E

    He sat there for a while, for once just letting himself cry.

    Then he stood, wiped at his face, said a soft goodbye, and left.

~~~

    The sun was setting over Derry fucking Maine, and Eddie Kaspbrak was there to see it. He stumbled out of the sewers and collapsed into the shallow water of the river, gasping in the fresh air. He was filthy, sore, tired, and fucking alive, and fucking free. For a moment, he didn’t even bother with caution, splashing the water right onto his face. When he looked up, he felt the fading sunlight on his cheeks, a faint breeze tugging at his hair, and he laughed.

    Then he stopped laughing because it fucking hurt.

    It took an immense amount of effort to pick himself up again. He had to make it back to the hotel, to the other Losers, to Richie. It was impossible to tell how long he had been down there, but his first priority was getting to them. The rest could come later.

    The walk back into Derry was shorter than his trek through the sewers, but it felt like more of a hike. About a mile, mostly uphill, through the woods in the dying daylight. It didn’t help that every odd shadow had him jumping straight out of his skin. When he finally saw the light of town, he practically ran.

    Being back in civilization was like finally waking up from the nightmare to an unfamiliar room. He was okay, he was going to be fine, he was alive, but it wasn’t home. He wouldn’t be safe and sound until he found the others. Which was still fine, because he was almost back to the hotel, and he could practically see them turning to look as he came through the door. The shock on their faces, the disbelief, and then they would be on him, and it really would be okay. Richie would say something stupid, Eddie knew he would, and that’s when he would shut him up with— 

    The hotel was empty.

    The lights were all off, despite the relatively early hour. No one was there when he went inside. The lady who ran the desk in the back said that all the guests had checked out. They were gone.

    Eddie asked if he could use the phone. She glowered at him, clearly not happy about the dirt and various other substances he was coated in but she pointed to an old landline. Eddie had absolutely nothing, no wallet, no inhaler, not even a pen. But they had all exchanged their phone numbers back at the restaurant, and Eddie had only bothered to remember one of them.

~~~

    Richie was almost an hour away from Derry when his phone rang. He figured it was his manager again, or his publicist again, or maybe someone else who wanted to bite his head off for disappearing for weeks. He glanced down at the screen. No name, but the number tickled something at the back of his mind. He let it go to voicemail.

    He didn’t think he had room left in his brain for more long lost memories.

    A few minutes later, it rang again. Richie glanced down, saw that same number, and cursed. Maybe it was Mike, calling to tell him that Pennywise had a son or something, and the terror was only just beginning. He let it ring out again, as a nagging feeling grew in his chest.

    When it rang again, Richie caved.

    "Listen, you can’t expect me to keep putting up with this shit, okay? One supernatural showdown a year, that’s the new rule. I am capped out! What the fuck more could you possibly want from me?“

    There was a silence, just long enough to make him nervous. And then…

    "Richie?”

~~~

    There was a terrible screeching sound on the other end of the line. Eddie heard Richie curse, and then rustling, and then silence.

    No, not quite silence. Richie was muttering something barely loud enough to be noticeable. Eddie strained his ears, and made out enough to discern the familiar chant.

    "This isn’t real, this isn’t real, this isn’t real.“

    And Eddie understood, he really did, but it didn’t stop the flare of indignation. He was just so desperately relieved to hear Richie’s voice, and he was a little delirious, and he had died, and there had been several tense minutes where he didn’t think Richie would pick up the phone and, well…

    "I am totally fucking real, you dipshit!” He practically snarled it, earning another glare from the lady behind the desk. “You would know that if you were here right now. What the fuck, dude?”

    Richie didn’t immediately answer.  His breath was rattling through the receiver in short bursts, and Eddie was almost sorry for snapping at him.

    "No,“ Richie choked out. "No, no, no, no, you’re not. You were… you're… I was fucking there, and you were…”

    Eddie sighed, the anger draining out of him and leaving him empty. “Yeah, I was, Trashmouth. And now I’m not.”

    There was another pause, filled only with the awful sound of Richie’s ragged breathing, and it sounded too much like one of Eddie’s nastier asthma attacks. Eddie wanted him to be here, and not just a voice on the phone.

    "How?“ he finally asked, voice too small, too unsteady to belong to Richie Tozier.

    Eddie sighed again. "I don’t fucking know, Rich. Look, I’m back at the hotel, and I don’t have my wallet or literally anything else. I don’t even know what fucking day it is. Just please tell me you’re not on the other side of the goddamn country." 

    There was another curse, and more rustling. When Richie spoke again, his voice was more sure, a hint of urgency hidden beneath it. "I’m not, I… I left like an hour ago.” A pause. “Had to pay my respects to your mom.”

    His voice cracked as he said it, and Eddie decided to ignore that. “Fuck off.”

    Richie’s breath audibly hitched, and Eddie ignored that, too.

    "Give the phone to the lady,“ Richie said hoarsely, "I’ll get you a room. But don’t get the wrong idea or anything, I don’t do prostitutes anymore.”

    Eddie rolled his eyes, scoffed, and handed the receiver to the sour-faced woman. He didn’t trust his own voice now, worried it would give away the chest-bursting relief that had come over him. Richie was okay. He was only an hour away, and he was coming back, and he was okay.

    The woman rattled off several questions, and pecked at the keyboard of the ancient computer in front of her. A minute later, she curled her lip and passed the phone back to Eddie.

    "You’d better be fucking real, Kaspbrak. I’m pretty sure I just got ripped off.“

~~~

    The irony of driving almost twenty miles over the speed limit for the sake of Eddie Kaspbrak was not lost on Richie. He had almost crashed the car once, at the first raspy sound of Eddie’s voice. Now he was hurtling down the highway at breakneck speed, back to Derry, back to him.

    Richie still wasn’t sure he was even awake. Part of him was absolutely certain that this was some awful dream, that he would get back to Derry and Eddie would be just as dead as when he left. The other part, the one that was playing and replaying Eddie’s voice in his head, was almost sick with hope.

    He had been crying ever since Eddie had told him to fuck off in that just-barely-fond voice that he so rarely used. It had occurred to him, of course, that Eddie would have a field day with that, but he couldn’t stop.

    Eddie was alive. Eddie was fucking alive.

    Alone, and probably hurt, and definitely pissed off, but alive nonetheless. Richie would have had a much harder time believing it if he hadn’t fought and killed a giant, shapeshifting killer clown two weeks ago.

    He was so close. It was a miracle that he hadn’t been pulled over, but he pushed his luck even further anyway, creeping up toward one hundred. He was so close.

    There was a paranoid little voice clamouring in the back of his head, shouting things like "trap!” and “danger!” and “impending doom!” Richie ignored that voice.

    Eddie was alive.

~~~

    Eddie was falling apart. He had made it back down the hall, up the stairs, and into the room before the miles of crawling, stumbling, digging, climbing, and fighting to survive finally caught up to him. Three steps past the threshold, he collapsed.

    The room was empty, but it had clearly not been that way for long. It reeked of cigarette smoke. Eddie slumped down onto the floor, and lay there for several minutes, mind blank. Then he started thinking about all the awful little things crawling around in the carpet, and he became acutely aware of everything still coating his body.

    With a new surge of energy, he hauled himself up and into the bathroom. There was no first aid kit, no isopropyl alcohol, no sterile bandages, but at this point Eddie would settle for an incredibly hot shower.

    He almost lost his balance getting in, which made his heart plummet in his chest. But when he stepped into the water, his whole body unwound like a cut wire. The grime of the sewers fell away, sluicing off his skin and draining back to where it had all come from. Eddie watched his own blood circle the drain, and shivered despite the scalding water.

    Richie had barely left, and he wouldn’t have been far behind the others, so it couldn’t have been all that long since Neibolt collapsed. Eddie figured two days at the most. Unless Richie had decided to stay.

    "Had to pay my respects to your mom.“

    Eddie shook his head. A fog of delirium and exhaustion blanketed his mind and was clearly affecting his judgement; Richie wouldn’t stay any longer than the others. He shut off the water.

    Eddie wrapped himself in a towel and left the bathroom, lungs clogged with steam. It wasn’t until he was standing in the middle of the room, strength once again draining from his limbs, that he realized his only clothes were no more than filthy rags. He fell down onto the bed, and cursed at the ceiling.

    Several minutes later, there was a knock at the door.

~~~

    Richie made it back to the hotel in less than forty five minutes. There had been one more close call when he got off the highway a bit too fast and fishtailed, but he had made it in one piece. After he pulled into the parking lot, he barely remembered to turn the car off before scrambling out of it. He barreled through the door, up the stairs, to the same damn room he had been suffering in for the last two weeks. Figures.

    It was then that he finally slowed down, stopped. Eighty miles, and he had never let himself doubt this, but suddenly he was paralyzed with nerves. What if Eddie wasn’t there, and he had been drawn back to this room as a sign that he really should just curl up and die in it?

    His chest was tight. He took a breath.

    With a shaking hand, he knocked on the door.

    A second passed. Two. Three. A silence just long enough for Richie’s heart to stop beating.

    "It’s open.”

    Then it started again, full throttle, slamming against his ribcage as he opened the door.

    Only for it to skip, soar, and drop through the floor all at once.

    Eddie was lying on the bed in nothing but a towel, hair still wet from the shower, covered in cuts and bruises. There was a massive, raw scar where Pennywise had run him through. The hole in his cheek had closed, but it hadn’t completely healed. His chest was rising and falling in short movements, like he was struggling to breathe.

    Richie was dangerously close to bursting into tears again.

    After a moment of silence that seemed to stretch for hours, Eddie turned his head to look at Richie. The movement was slow, almost wary, as if Eddie was just as terrified of Richie being a lie. They locked eyes, and fuck—

    Fuck. Eddie was real, and alive, and right the fuck in front of him.

    Richie took a shallow breath, and then another. His throat was all twisted up.

    "You look like shit, Eds,“ he whispered.

    Eddie’s face twitched, brows sliding down into an all too familiar scowl.

    "Yeah, well you’re no fucking portrait, asshole.”

    Richie shuddered, and suddenly he could breathe again—he hadn’t been able to breathe in weeks—and then he was laughing. Before he really thought about it, before his brain could catch up with anything, he was striding over to the bed and sitting down next to Eddie.

    His skin was too pale, making all the bruises and blood stand out harshly. Richie reached over and brushed his fingers over the large scar on his chest. His body was warm and solid.

    Eddie went stiff, but made no move to pull away. Richie, not really realizing what he was doing, traced the scar lightly with his fingertips. It spread across the lower half of Eddie’s chest and down over most of his stomach. Richie could still see Pennywise’s claw protruding from the spot, dripping with Eddie’s blood.

    "How the hell did you survive this,“ he muttered.

    Eddie shrugged mechanically. "I don’t think I did.”

    Richie snapped his eyes up to meet his. There were more questions, a thousand more, but they all died as he met Eddie’s gaze again.

    He snatched his hand away, finally realizing where it was, what it was doing. Eddie seemed to realize something, too, as his face regained some color.

    "Hey, Rich, you wouldn’t happen to have a change of clothes I could borrow, would you? Mine are covered in sewage.“

    Richie’s brain finally caught up, and his own face grew hot. He nodded, mostly focused on not staring at Eddie’s half naked body now that it had sunk in that Eddie was half naked. "Yeah, obviously,” he stammered, “in the car. I’ll, uh, yeah.”

    He stood, and Eddie sat up but didn’t follow. He looked dizzy.

    Richie practically sprinted to his car. It took three tries to get it unlocked, his hands were shaking so bad. As if Eddie would disappear in the thirty seconds it took to haul his shit back up to the room.

    When he came back, Eddie was leaning his elbows on his knees. He looked bone deep tired, and Richie knew exactly what that was like. He dropped the suitcase on the floor and flung it open.

    "Most of this shit’s been worn already,“ he said. "Just once, but I know how you are.”

    "Where’s my stuff?“ It wasn’t an angry question, really, but Richie’s blood ran cold anyway.

    "It’s, um… Most of it’s in my car, actually,” he mumbled. He had taken what remained of Eddie’s things the second night after defeating Pennywise. None of the Losers had said anything about it. Richie had hoped it would help with his grief, and it had, just a little. “I could go get it, I was just in a hurry, and I—”

    "No, it’s fine. Just give me something comfortable. And nothing with your fucking face on it, either.”

    Richie scoffed without really thinking about it. “You think I would wear my own merchandise? I can’t believe you think so lowly of me, Eds.”

    "Shut up and give me some clothes.“

    "What’s the rush?” Richie grinned. He couldn’t help himself. This was the back and forth that he hadn’t been getting from Eddie’s ghost in his head. “Are you that eager to get into my pants? You’re so much more forward than your mom.”

    "Richie, I will fucking strangle you.“

    "Not the kind of foreplay I expected, but I can work with it.”

    Eddie threw a glare at him, and Richie was filled with the usual buzz from his undivided attention. He wasn’t even ashamed of it now. It was better than anything he had felt in weeks.

    He dug out a pair of sweats and his last clean T-shirt, trading insults with Eddie as he did so. It was a tired exchange, and neither of them were on the top of their game, but it was so sweetly familiar that Richie felt drunk. Eddie went into the bathroom to change, and Richie had to resist the urge to shout at him through the door.

    When he came back out, Richie’s words died on his tongue.

    The shirt was too big, and the pants pooled at his ankles. Eddie was glaring at him like he was braced for an onslaught of teasing. Richie hated to disappoint, but his heart was up in his throat, and all he could think about was how amazing it was that Eddie was actually here, wearing his fucking cookie pants.

    When he didn’t immediately say anything, Eddie rolled his eyes and shuffled back over to the bed. “Quit fucking staring, asshole, it’s not my fault you have a lamp post for a body.”

    Richie watched him settle on the bed, not bothering with the blankets. He looked exhausted, but he didn’t close his eyes, didn’t even pretend to fall asleep. Neither of them spoke for a moment. Richie was scrambling to get his voice back when Eddie broke the silence.

    "I thought you might be dead.“

    His voice was small, a little breathless. Richie blinked at him, and finally found words again. "What?”

    "When I woke up,“ Eddie went on, "I was buried in the rubble, and I was worried… I thought that maybe you guys were buried too, that the whole place had come down right on top of us.”

    Richie was hit with a sudden wave of guilt. Eddie had been down there for weeks, and they had left him there. “Fuck, Eds,” he breathed. “Fuck, I—I’m sorry, man, I tried to get you out of there, but it was happening so fast.” He turned away, shifting so his back was leaning against the side of the bed. “I would’ve stayed down there with you, but Mike and Ben dragged me out.”

    He heard Eddie take a breath. “Then you really would’ve been dead, idiot.”

    Richie huffed out a laugh. Bev had said nearly the same thing on the eighth day, after Richie had snapped at Bill for not letting him stay in that sinkhole.

    "Richie…?“

    It was really nice to hear Eddie saying his name again, even if he sounded like he was about to have a mental breakdown. "Yeah?”

    "How, uh… How long was I down there?“

    Richie sucked in a breath, let it out, felt the weight of too many nightmare-fueled sleepless nights dragging at his body.

    "Almost two weeks,” he sighed.

    "What the fuck!?“ Eddie barked, sitting up so fast the bed shook. Richie craned his neck to look at him, and Eddie stared back with wide eyes. "Two weeks? I was dead for two fucking weeks?”

    Richie’s stomach dropped at the words. “What the hell do you mean, you were dead?”

    "I was fucking impaled through the torso, dumbass, of course I was dead. What, did you think I was just taking a nice stroll through the sewers? For two whole goddamn weeks! Jesus, that can't—I mean, that can’t be fucking possible, right? I would have started to decay. My pancreas would be digesting itself, and my cells would be breaking down, and maggots would—!“

    He cut himself off, too busy hyperventilating to continue detailing the slow process of his own decomposition. Richie really wished he had brought Eddie’s bag, oversized clothes be damned. His inhaler was gone, burned up and buried beneath Neibolt, but he probably had a backup somewhere.

    Instead, panicking, he climbed up onto the bed and took Eddie’s face in his hands. "Eddie, hey, Eds, fucking look at me.”

    Eddie’s eyes were wide and endless, a shade of brown that Richie could stare into for hours—but he focused on the glossy fear in them instead of his own stupid heart.

    "Listen, I don’t know how, but you’re not dead. You’re right here, and there’s no maggots, or clowns, or fucking disease zombies, or whatever. It’s just me.“

    Eddie’s brows drew together, like he was reaching for some conclusion and couldn’t quite connect the dots. His breathing was starting to slow down, though.

    "Just you,” he wheezed. “You were…so close. An hour away.”

    Richie wasn’t sure where he was going with that. He shrugged. “Yeah, I had only just left. We all stuck around for a while. Kinda hard to just pack up and go home after… y'know, all of that.”

    Eddie stared up at him for a moment, doe eyes doing cruel things to Richie’s heart. Then he grabbed Richie by the waist and pulled him forward.

    Richie tried to breathe, but it was difficult with Eddie’s face pressed into the crook of his shoulder, and the smell of generic hotel soap scrambling his senses. He held himself still, unsure of what to do. Then Eddie started shaking, and Richie broke from his stupor to wrap his arms around him.

    "Eds?“

    "Don’t fucking call me that,” came the unsteady reply. Richie swallowed the urge to tease him, to break the tension that hung in the air, to mask his racing heart with humor.

    "You probably ought to get some sleep,“ he said instead. "Maybe we can figure this out in the morning, when we’re not, like, in shock, or whatever.”

    Eddie hesitated before nodding against Richie’s shoulder. He waited even longer to finally loosen his grip, wiping at his eyes as he turned away.

    God, Richie wanted to kiss him.

    Eddie rose from the bed with visible effort. Richie helped him turn down the covers, waited until he was settled, and then moved for the chair in the corner. It was an old piece of shit that made his neck hurt just from looking at it, but it would do for tonight. He was halfway through wadding up his jacket for a pillow when Eddie called out to him.

    "Rich, this is gonna sound weird…”

    Richie grinned. “Weirder than coming back from the dead, or just typical Derry weird?”

    "Shut up. I just… can you just come over here?“

    "I was just getting comfy,” he sighed, even as he stood.

    "No you fucking weren’t.“

    Richie laughed, though he tried not to. He was starting to get slap happy, and combined with the shellshocked elation he was trying to process, he was a bit off his rocker. Eddie blinked up at him from the bed.

    "Well? The fuck do you want?”

    Eddie rolled his eyes. The color that rose in his cheeks was visible even in the dim light of the lamp, which they had both silently agreed to keep on. Without saying anything, Eddie shifted over until there was just enough room on the bed for one more. Richie took an embarrassingly long time to process this.

    "Oh come on, shit for brains, just get in,“ Eddie snapped.

    Richie almost couldn’t hear him over the rushing of his own heartbeat in his ears. Slowly, he slid under the sheets. The bed was warm where Eddie had already been laying. Richie reminded himself to breathe, somehow struggling more with this than the unexplained resurrection of his best friend and lifelong love.

    Eddie shifted, shoulder brushing against Richie’s and sending his brain spiraling. “Thanks, by the way,” he whispered. “For coming back.”

    Richie nodded, not trusting himself to look at Eddie. “Yeah, no problem.”

    He wanted to say more, but his thoughts were too jumbled to really make sense of them. There was one persistent question, though.

    "Why did you call me? I mean, Mike’s still in town.“

    Eddie was silent for several moments. And then he said, quietly, "You were the first person I thought of.”

    Richie didn’t want to overthink that, but he knew he was going to. “Oh.”

    Silence stretched again. Richie let it sit for long enough that he could safely assume Eddie was asleep before saying more. “Y'know, just for the record, I would have come no matter what. Even if I was all the way back in LA. I’d always come back for you, Eds.”

    He was just starting to think he was in the clear when Eddie let out a sharp breath and clutched at Richie’s sleeve.

    "I love you.“

    The erratic beating of Richie’s heart stopped cold. He finally looked at Eddie, who had turned over and pressed his face against Richie’s arm. Tears leaked from his tightly closed eyes, running across the perfect bridge of his nose and dropping onto the pillow.

    "Fuck. Eddie…” he trailed off, not sure what to say. Eddie loved him. This night was getting more and more unreal by the hour. “That’s, uh, really not something you want to hear from a guy who’s crying.”

    Eddie snapped his eyes open. Christ, they were beautiful. Big and brown and sparkling even when he was furious. Shit, especially when he was furious.

    "Are you fucking serious right now?“ he hissed. "You’re gonna joke about this? You know what, never mind, I fucking hate you.”

    "Aw, c'mon, Eddie Spaghetti, don’t be like that.“

    "Fuck off,” he fired back, trying to turn away. Richie rolled over and hooked an arm over him, pulling him close.

    "Hey now, you’re the one who wanted me to share a bed with you, the least you could do is cuddle.“

    "Let go, Richie.” Eddie wriggled, but Richie held him tight. Fuck that, he wasn’t planning on letting go for at least a few weeks, if ever. “I swear to god, I’ll knee you in the balls.”

    "Don’t do that, I might need them later.“

    "Yeah right. Like I’d ever want to get anywhere near your unwashed dick.”

    "I never said I was gonna need ‘em for you, Eds.“

    Eddie stopped squirming and looked Richie in the eyes, which was unfortunate, since Richie was trying to banter and those eyes always left him speechless.

    "Shut up, Richie,” he whispered, and his breath brushed across Richie’s mouth a moment before his lips did.

    Richie had figured that if this really was a dream, this would be the moment he would wake up. That was how it always worked when he dreamt of Eddie, ever since they were kids. They would go for the kiss, and he would startle awake with a pounding, aching heart, and a cold sweat on his brow. The cycle of his entire repressed childhood.

    But he didn’t wake up now. Eddie’s lips pressed into his, hungry and hesitant at the same time, and it was so much better than any dream. Richie pressed back, just as desperate, and way too strung out to care. It felt more real now than when he had first laid eyes on Eddie, first touched him.

    Eddie was here. Eddie was alive. Eddie was in Richie’s arms, and was kissing the breath right out of his lungs.

    And Eddie loved him.

    When they pulled away from each other, Eddie’s eyes would hardly open. Richie smiled, and even though he couldn’t see it, he could tell how ridiculously soft he probably looked.

    "You should come back from the dead more often, Kaspbrak,“ he sighed.

    Eddie managed to roll his eyes before they drifted shut again. He gave a weary grunt, and offered no further comment. Richie watched him for a moment, but he was struggling to keep his own eyes open, and he was warm, and safe, and happy for the first time in over a month. Scratch that, in years.

    Just before he fell asleep, he reached up and pressed a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. "I love you, too, Eds. Always have.”

    He felt it just before he slipped away, Eddie’s arms holding him a little bit tighter.

[chrisevansbabymama]

Daddy Hair Care - Chapter 3

Chapter 2

Chapter 3 - Stop Trying To Make Fetch Happen:

“Your hair looks cute like that,” Chris commented, taking note of yet another new hairstyle Kayla wore.

She and his stylist, Lauren walked into his suite with their kits in tow, ready for his glam session for his final appearance for the day; a magazine press event that his publicist had urged him to attend to crystalise his relationship with the publication.

“I sense a little shade in there, because why are you only just noticing?” Kayla retorted. “Was that a backhanded compliment, Evans?”

“I meant,” Chris paused to rectify his carelessly worded statement, even though he genuinely meant the compliment. “I haven’t seen you with braids before, so I’m appreciating that your hair also looks cute like that. Emphasis on the also,”

“Okay, I’ll take it, only because you’re sweating,” because teasing him was Kayla’s love language.

“And why would I be sweating? You don’t make me nervous -”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me,” Kayla cut him off and smiled at him from across the room.

“Are you going to be annoying again this evening?” he pretended not to like their little quips.

This was just a continuation from earlier when they had glammed him for his Jimmy Fallon interview, where the two went back and forth in their best bid to verbally outdo each other, as usual.

“Hi to you too Chris,” Lauren finally inserted herself, smiling at him knowingly as she brushed past him.

“What?” Chris eyed her, playing dumb.

Ten years of working together they had become best friends and they could literally communicate with just their eyes. This was working to Lauren’s advantage as she often found pleasure in tormenting him about his teen-like crush on Kayla. He would dismiss it with an eye roll, but his body language would always sell him out.

“You know what,” she mumbled but the knowing smile was still plastered on her face solely designed to haunt him.

“Whatever,” he grumbled. “Think I could shower real quick before we start? I’m covered in gunk from the Fallon interview,”

“Sure, we have an hour before you have to be out of the door,” Lauren nodded, the clock reading 5:37pm.

“You know, I’m getting tired of you two acting like I’m not around when you flirt,” Lauren said the minute she heard the shower faucet run after Chris had left the room.

Kayla barely looked up as she unzipped her grooming kit bag, setting up near her usual spot by the window for optimal lighting.

“Here we go again with this tired topic,”

“Exactly, guess who’s tired of watching you two flirt and do nothing about it,” Lauren asked rhetorically before imitating Chris, “Your hair looks cute like that,”

Kayla chuckled, not convinced but found her hand subconsciously going to touch her new braids, “He’s mocking me, he saw me earlier before Fallon and didn’t say anything,”

“In his defense, there were a lot of people around for him to say anything, that’d been weird,”

Kayla had been working with Chris as his hairstylist and make-up artist for almost four months now. She had fit into the team so seamlessly, with all credits due to Chris for being so welcoming and warm. But therein lay the problems: he was over-achingly good looking, and by far the best celebrity client she had worked with. So much so that the four months she’d known him breezed by and she seemed to fall for his charm every day. Every morning she woke up, she felt like a teenager excited to go to school because she got to sit next to her crush in class. Except with Chris, she got to play in his hair and get extremely close to his face. And touch him. Getting paid for it was seeming more like a perk.

Everyone around them seemed to notice how well they got along. With Lauren being around them the most, she recognised their chemistry instantly and was the first one to call them out on it. Despite being met with their discomfort and denial, she didn’t let it stop her from continuing her torment. If they were going to flirt and act like she didn’t exist, then she too could have her own fun with them.

“This whole convo is so weird, let it rest,” Kayla complained.

“You like him, he likes you. What’s weird?”

“Sure he likes me, I’m clearly his type,” Kayla rolled her eyes sarcastically. “Seriously, don’t you get bored of this subject?”

“You are his type,” Lauren affirmed with a ‘duh’ tone.

“Okay Lauren, if you say so.”

“Lest you forget his daughter Mya is-”

“Mixed race? So suddenly he likes all black women?” Kayla laughed.

“No, I’m disproving your theory that he doesn’t date black women. Besides, you, have entertained this conversation hence you do care and which means you do like him,”

Kayla pursed her lips before stuttering, “I...look, he’s hot, granted and a nice guy, but that’s about it. Celebs are not my type, too much drama and baggage,”

“That’s a sweeping statement,” Lauren was clearly in defense of Chris.

“Why’d you keep pushing for this anyway? What’s in it for you?”

“He hadn’t been himself for a while, his old self has resurfaced since you started working with him. It’s just…nice y’know? To have the real Chris back,” Lauren said solemnly. “I just want him to be happy,”

“I love my job and would never cross that line with Chris, besides, he’s a good friend,” Kayla said, barely believing herself.

She also didn’t believe Lauren, the last time something of this sort happened, was in high school with the popular kid and that didn’t end well.

So why would it be different with Chris? He was practically the popular guy from the moment the final Avengers: Infinity War trailer was released; the man had been trending on Twitter for almost a week.

After a few minutes, he reemerged from his room from his shower, looking handsome and cuddly as ever, just wrapped in his hotel robe. He sat in the chair by the window, enjoying the view of the city as Kayla began her magic on him, her back to the mirror next to the floor-to-ceiling window he faced.

“How long are you planning to grow this?” Kayla asked.

She raked her fingers through his hair, distributing the product from root to ends. Chris always loved it when she did that. He’d melt into her touch, his eyes fluttering shut as his body relaxed. Maybe Sebastian was right, again; it’d been too long since he’d been with a woman. How could someone simply touching his hair make him lose his mind?

Kayla loved the way his hair felt in her hands; silky and soft. Even better, she liked how vulnerable he always seemed in her chair, which was such a contrast to his towering height, ragged beard and sculpted frame.

He looked vulnerable in her chair because his mind was busy, always wondering what it would feel like to kiss her and have her hands play in his hair. Or tug at it.

It didn’t help that the woman worked in such a close proximity to his face. She permeated every one of his senses…

Her confidence in her own skin was attractive; she had this way about her… a beauty that was very easy on the eyes.

Her soothing voice and hearty, belly laugh was contagious.

Her touch was confident and comforting. It felt like home.

Her sweet but punchy bergamot and neroli scent reminded him of heady summer nights.

Her taste… he always wondered.

“I’m actually supposed to cut it soon for Lobby Hero,” he said sadly. He fished his phone out of his robe pocket and showed her the character mood board for the play. “They gave me this buddy here for reference,”

“Oh,” Lauren walked over and glanced over his shoulder at his phone screen.

Kayla looked up at him from the screen, then back at the phone and him again, as if trying to envision the look on him.  

“Uhmm the moustache...too?”

Chris nodded, pouting as he whined, “I don’t wike it,”

“Oh...” Lauren repeated, stifling a laugh by biting her bottom lip.

“Can you believe it? A pornstache,” he cried.

“Wow, the next few months are going to be rough for you,” Kayla finally commented.

“What, without my hair I’m nothing? Is that what you’re saying?”

No, I just won’t have anything to imagine tugging on...she thought.

“Not what I said, you just said that yourself,” Kayla corrected him. “I’m just saying, the world went nuts over your bearded look in the Infinity War trailer just last week...this look’s gonna be a big middle finger to everyone that supported you,”

“You’re so charming, y’know that?” he said rolling his eyes. “I can say bye to my career, because clearly my hair’s kept me going all these years,”

“You could always try porn? With that beard and all,” Lauren said, back to her station by the rail.

“Maybe you can write my character reference,” Chris shot back.

“Oh, I’m so glad it’s Friday, one more day with you I swear I’ll strangle you,” Laura huffed.

“So it’s BDSM you’re into?” Chris asked.

“Chris!”

“We’re all adults here,” he shrugged.

“You’re lot,”

“I am, you can regroup over the weekend,” He sighed, but he looked smug like he was proud of himself. “Doing anything nice other than getting away from me?”

“My weekend starts tonight, shower, room service, a huge bottle of wine and bed. Then lather, rinse and repeat. I’m staying in bed all weekend,”

“Sounds like a dream,” Kayla moaned. “Can I join you?”

“For which bit; the shower, wine or bed all weekend?” Lauren asked, her sole purpose to get a reaction out of Chris.

And it worked, his breath stilled at the visuals that flooded him, but he quickly composed himself before he breathed an easy laugh to let Lauren know he was unaffected by her antics.

“Girl, no! For the wine and room service,” Kayla scrunched up her face at her. “I’m hungry,”

“What a shame, my bed will be very lonely tonight,”

“Take me out to dinner and I might just come back to your room,” Kayla teased.

“Well, why don’t we all get something to eat tonight, Chris, think you can make it?”

“I doubt it, I finish around 9:30ish. I can’t make you guys wait that long to eat,” Chris said sadly.

The idea of going out seemed very tempting, after his conversation with his mom yesterday he realised he needed to start making a few changes, starting with his social life. Kayla being in attendance was a bonus, if not the main incentive.

“We’ll survive,” Lauren interjected quickly, not wanting to give him a window to bail out because he always bailed.

Chris decided that if he was going to spend the next two hours at a press event, fake smiling the night away at cameras and fellow industry personnel, then he surely deserved a nice private dinner with his team to unwind without having to be ‘Chris Evans,’ the famous guy. He wanted to push the envelope even further and have a drink or two, or even eat from the list of barred food for his Cap diet. Just to prove a point.  

“That works for me. I’ll let Tiffany and Keith know,” Lauren said, considering his assistant and publicist who completed ‘Team Chris Evans’. “Kay, You in?”

Chris surprised himself when he didn’t immediately worry about going back to Mya and Dodger when Lauren extended the dinner invitation. He was going to take his mom and Seb’s advice to put himself out there.

It was about time, he wasn’t getting any younger.

But he wasn’t surprised when he’d found himself holding his breath, waiting for Kayla to respond, because frankly, he knew deep down that her reply was going to make or break the deal. Of course he loved Lauren and she was great company, but she wasn’t Kayla.

“Of course I’m in,”

*

Chapter 4.1

____________

Disclaimer: Gif Not My Own

Tagged As Requested:  @mississippifangirl​ @thinemineours @tessathedragon @thottio​ @caninoona @eratotalles @allonszassbutt @thinemineours @dreamingwithmendes @void-imaginations​ @daybreak96​ @l-auteuse​ @cliffordasparagus @bumber-car-s @lvlyab @melaninmarvel

[camillemontespan]

oblivion [raleigh carrera] [part one: rabbit hole]

I have no idea if I will continue this as I have so many series going on but I was hit by inspiration after I posted the teaser to this a few months ago. I’ve continued on from the teaser and written a first chapter. 

Warnings: Discussion of drugs. 

Taggin’ those who might like this and taggin’ those in my permalist (I’m not cheating on Drake!)

@pug-bitch @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @star-spangled-eyes @emichelle @ibldw-main @burnsoslow @katedrakeohd @jovialyouthmusic @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @sirbeepsalot @dcbbw @moonlightgem7 @mskaneko @notoriouscs @gardeningourmet @pedudley @drakesensworld  @emomoustache

        ***************************************************************************

Raleigh looked up, his vision blurred. All he could see in front of him was the blurry lights of Vegas through the windows and the dancing figures of models clad in their underwear. They were dancing to his latest single; a single which Raleigh felt was shit.

His music had been shit lately. He knew it, the label knew it, the fans knew it but for some reason, everyone still wanted a piece of him. Everyone wanted a piece of Raleigh Carrera and they wouldn’t stop until they were through with him.

Raleigh was exhausted.

He had been holed up in this Vegas suite for three weeks now. He passed the time by drinking and hiring girls; anything to keep himself from thinking about her.

Marina Cortez.

Even her name was beautiful.

They had been in a fake relationship for publicity and the media had lapped it up. The Bad Boy of pop with the new American Dream.

Raleigh had shown her the underworld of New York, he had shown her the hidden nooks of Los Angeles. He had shown her a darker world, one filled with chaos and destruction, and she had loved it. She could have chosen to follow her mentor, Amery, and stay squeaky clean, a virginal figure with a chastity ring, preaching about love and peace. But she hadn’t wanted that. She had followed Raleigh into the dark.

Real feelings developed. Raleigh hadn’t meant for that to happen; he was always careful to keep girls at arms length. He knew he was bad for them.  But as they kissed in his bed and whispered their secrets, deep secrets which they promised to keep protected, Raleigh felt a stirring in his heart and he knew he was done for.

Marina was all dark hair and soulful brown eyes. Someone as beautiful as she was should have been protected. Raleigh hadn’t wanted to hurt her; but when she turned to him one night, over the white powder on the glass coffee table and her credit card in her hand, smiling like she had a delicious but disturbing secret, Raleigh knew he had to leave. He had to leave her to save her.

His phone buzzed with a notification. Sighing, he rubbed his eyes and opened it. It was a news article from Hollywood Insider and the headline screamed: BREAKING: MARINA CORTEZ RUSHED TO HOSPITAL

Raleigh was on his feet in an instant. A blonde model slunk over to him, draping her arms around his neck, whispering, ‘Baby, where are you going?’ Raleigh pushed her away and stormed to the door, taking his leather jacket off the coat rack. He dialled his PA’s number.

‘Get me on the red eye to LA, now,’ he said shortly before hanging up.

He had been happy to just sink into oblivion; but this was different. He was not going to drag her under with him.

              *********************************************************************

Raleigh landed in Los Angeles and a private car picked him up on the tarmac to take him to the hospital. Through the dark windows, Raleigh looked out at the city of angels and tried to push down the dread in the pit of his stomach. 

The car drove down the highway and Raleigh had to avert his eyes when he saw the billboards with Marina emblazoned on them. The promotions for her new album were so far removed from the singer he once knew. She used to sing on stage with only her guitar - well, his guitar which he gave her as a gift- for company, the spotlight making her shine like an angel, and her voice which was like honey filled the arenas. That was all she needed to do. But a year later, the guitar was discarded and in its place was hardcore choreography, revealing costumes and autotune. 

She had been turned into a bubblegum pop diva; the singers she used to hate. 

The car slid through to the back entrance of the hospital and down an alley to a staff door. No paparazzi covered this area which was exactly what Raleigh wanted. He wanted to get into the building without any issue. Before the car could even come to a stop, he bolted out of the vehicle and burst through the staff door, the harsh lights of the staff corridor blinding him. 

He rushed down the corridor, ignoring nurses who told him he wasn’t supposed to be in here. He reached the reception area and ignored the gasps of surprise from the people in the waiting room.

‘Marina Cortez, where is she?’ he demanded. 

The receptionist blinked. ‘Uhh..I can’t give you that information, sir, it’s classified.’ 

‘Where the fuck is she?’ he hissed, slamming his hand on the reception desk, making her jump. He really didn’t want to pull the whole ‘do you know who I am’ dick move but he was tempted.

‘Sir, I’m sorry-’

‘I’m Raleigh fucking Carrera,’ he interrupted, already hating himself. ‘She’s my girlfriend. I need to know where she is otherwise I swear, I’m getting behind that desk, looking up your classified files and finding out that fucking room number myself. Where the hell is she?’

‘Fifth floor, room 763,’ the receptionist stammered. 

Raleigh bowed his head and placed his hands together to look like he was praying.  ‘Thank you,’ he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He turned on his heel and headed to the elevator, jabbing the button with his finger and wishing it would arrive sooner. 

When the doors opened, he bolted inside and began his descent up to the fifth floor. 

                        ******************************************************

Raleigh let out a strangled sob when he saw her asleep in the bed. Her dark hair was fanned across the pillow, like she was a princess waiting in her tower to be saved by the hero of the book. Her olive skin looked pale. 

He was about to move forward to take her hand but was stopped by a voice. 

‘Mr Carrerra.’

He turned to find a doctor standing behind him. ‘I hear you’ve been threatening my staff.’

Raleigh turned red and shuffled on his feet awkwardly. ‘I’m so sorry.’

The doctor sighed and took out a folder. He gestured for Raleigh to sit down. Raleigh obeyed and watched warily as the doctor sat opposite him and opened the folder. 

‘ I’m Dr Gregory,’ he said. ‘I understand she is your girlfriend.’

Raleigh bit his lip. Was his girlfriend. Was.

‘Do you know what happened to her?’ Dr Gregory asked.

Raleigh shook his head numbly. 

‘She was found lying underwater in the bath,’ the doctor told him seriously. ‘She had taken drugs and was found by her publicist.'

Raleigh clenched his fists and dug his nails into his skin. He didn’t want to cry. He couldn’t. ‘How long was she underwater?’ he croaked.

‘A couple of minutes,' the doctor answered. 'Any longer and she wouldn't still be here.'

Raleigh closed his eyes. He couldn't imagine a world without Marina. His world without her right now was already dark and bleek. He thought back to past memories with her. 

The night they made out on the hood of his car, her body on top of his, his hands placed on her ass which was clad in tiny denim shorts. 

The lazy Sunday they had when they just stayed in bed all day watching Brooklyn 99, eating pizza and snuggled into each other. 

The time they were in New York at the Met and Raleigh saw a rope prohibiting entrance to a secret room. He ignored the rules and took Marina with him; they snuck into the room, giggling as they went, before their mouths crashed together in a heated and desperate moment. 

The night she whispered that she loved him and he whispered it back. 

So many memories that he had cast to the back of his mind in his bid to try and get over her.  

He wished he hadn’t done that. He had abandoned her right when she needed him. Why had he been such an asshole? Such a selfish asshole. 

‘When can she be discharged?’ he asked quietly, looking at the floor. 

‘I’d like to keep her overnight,’ the doctor told him. ‘Then we can discuss next steps.’

Raleigh’s head shot up. ‘Next steps?’

‘Yes,’ the doctor said. ‘She will need to go to rehab. Although from her past two failed attempts, I don’t know how successful this will be-’

‘She can stay with me,’ Raleigh interrupted. ‘I can help her get clean. I know how to do it because I’ve done it myself. Please. Just let me look after her-’

‘That won’t be necessary,’ a sharp voice said from the door. Raleigh looked up to see Marina’s publicist, Fiona, standing at the threshold. He stood up quickly, feeling himself shrink at the pure hatred in her eyes. 

‘Fiona, I-’

Fiona held up a hand. ‘No, Raleigh. She will go to a rehabilitation centre where there are qualified professionals and proper treatments-’

‘Which haven’t worked!’ Raleigh burst out. ‘Whatever they do to her in there doesn’t work!’

‘What makes you think you can help?’ Fiona spat. ‘Or actually, a better question: what makes you think you are allowed to help?’

The doctor cleared his throat. ‘I’ll leave you two alone.’ He stood up and left the room. 

Raleigh tried to find words. ‘Fiona-’

‘No,’ she interrupted. ‘This ends now. You led that poor girl down the rabbit hole and abandoned her when she needed you most. I have seen her worst days since you left; she has been crying, losing her temper at the slightest thing and staying in bed for days on end. The only time she would get up was to snort a new line.’

Raleigh closed his eyes, wishing she would stop talking, but Fiona bulldozed on. 

‘She showed up at the recording studio bleary eyed and would take frequent ‘bathroom breaks’. She had no one but me and I tried, Raleigh, I really tried. I tried to get her out of bed and into a shower. I would hold her as she cried her eyes out. I.. I threw her drugs in the trash.’

Raleigh sighed. He didn’t want to tell Fiona that you never put an addicts drugs in the trash. It was the equivalent of throwing away their medicine; he knew because he had been that addict before. 

‘Has Avery talked to her?’ he asked, hating the name on his lips. But he had to know. Avery was the one person who had always tried his hardest to keep Marina on the straight and narrow and encourage her to be the artist she was. 

‘Avery isn’t allowed to see her,’ Fiona told him, her voice calmer now. ‘His label won’t let him. Apparently, being seen with Marina Cortez is now career suicide. They don’t want to tarnish his good boy image.’ Fiona spat these words, clearly angry at the injustice of the situation. 

‘Micah?’

‘Micah is away touring,’ Fiona replied. 

‘Shane then.’ Shane was Marina’s childhood friend who stuck with her through thick and thin. 

‘He left her,’ Fiona whispered. ‘She pushed him too far and he lost his patience. Said he didn’t want to be around her anymore.’ 

Raleigh bit his lip. ‘If I’d known-’

‘You’d have raced to be with her?’ Fiona asked harshly. ‘You’d have become the knight in shining armour and saved her? Oh please.’

‘I didn’t realise how alone she was!’ Raleigh shouted, his temper flaring. ‘I didn’t know everyone had abandoned her! I thought she at least had Shane.’

Fiona slumped down on a chair and held her head in her hands. ‘You were wrong. She’s become a different person. All she wants is the next high and when she’s sober, she is quiet and uninterested. She won’t talk to me anymore. She shut people out who actually care about her and instead, she hangs out with freeloaders. You realise that when she goes out for drinks with those ‘friends’, she is the one who is left to pick up the $500 bar tab, right?’ 

Raleigh looked across at Marina who was still sound asleep. He slowly stood up and crouched down so he could be at her level and he smoothed her hair with his hand. ‘Those people are bloodsuckers,’ he whispered. ‘I’m not like that.’

Fiona stood up. ‘You are telling yourself that you’re here because you’re a good person. That you want to see her better. But truth be told, you’re here because you feel guilty. You want to fix this so that you can heal the hole in your heart that you feel. You don’t care about her, not really. You just want to make yourself feel better by being the last person by her side.’

‘Fuck you, Fiona,’  Raleigh spat, standing up again to face her. ‘That’s not true!’

‘Yes it is!’ Fiona said, her voice rising again. ‘Tell me, what were you doing before you hopped on a plane to get here, like the dashing hero you are?’

Raleigh turned red. Fiona crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. ‘I thought so.’ 

‘I’m here now!’ he pleaded, his voice desperate. ‘I want to be there for her. I want to help her. Please, let me. I know you hate me, everyone hates me. But she was the one good thing I had in my life and I ruined it. I want to make amends and if that means taking her home and looking after her while she screams at me, I don’t care, I want to do it.’ 

Fiona sighed. ‘Raleigh.. will she even want to see you?’

Raleigh looked down at Marina. ‘I honestly don’t know.. but I hope she will give me the benefit of a doubt.’ 

[mcwriting]

starstruck (4)

Here it is... finally! It’s ~angsty~ but it was really fun to write. 

I will say, I realized while writing this that the timeline of this fic is sooooo short but hey, its fiction, so I guess anything can happen lol. I tried to resolve it in later chapters but it’s definitely quick moving in these initial chapters. 

There’s a lot of italics in this one lol

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Fandom: Thomas Stanley Holland

Ship: Tom Holland x Reader (eventual)

Setting: LA in general

Word Count: 2240 yeet

Warnings: angst, some mild language

Rating: still k+ right now

Last time on starstruck...

“Hey what’s going on? Uh huh. No, we actually have it handled. I might or might not be with her right now… no it’s fine. Seriously, we are laying low! We’re on the way to the hotel right now. Alright, alright I’ll see what I can do. See you in a few.”

And with that, he hung up, turned to you, and said, “That was my manager. Apparently we’ve got a problem.”

                            __________________________________

You pulled underneath the awning of the posh hotel Tom was boarding at, the kind of place you only dreamed of staying.

Sure, your family wasn’t poor, but your parents definitely weren’t the type of people to spend a lot of money on hotels. They claimed to enjoy spending more money on the “fun” parts of vacations than where you slept at night.

To each their own, you supposed.

Tom wanted you to come inside, per request of his manager, so you figured you would drop him off and park so you wouldn’t be seen together. 

The valet had other plans, however, pulling you out of the car and exchanging your keys with a numbered slip of paper. 

It all happened so fast that for a moment you just stood there, stunned. You snapped out of it when the man began to drive off and Tom grabbed you to lead you inside.

The lobby was massive and covered with marble flooring. A large, plush rug covered many of the tiles and on top of it sat some luxurious couches and armchairs, framing a huge TV on the wall. 

On the other side was a long marble counter that seated hotel staff, who stood at the ready upon seeing Tom.

You also couldn’t help but note the smell, a light, sweet floral scent wafting through the air pleasantly. 

This must be rich people scent you thought to yourself.

Due to the nature of it being midday, very few people were seen in the lobby, and Tom led you straight through to a hallway and past the main elevators, his hand resting on your lower back the entire time.

“I have access to a service lift so less people will see,” he explained, as if he’d just read your confused mind.

You walked briskly with Tom through the winding hall, finally ending up at the alternate elevator, where he swiped his key card and the doors slid open with a few creaks.

You tapped your foot nervously as you passed floor by floor, letting go of a breath you didn’t realize you were holding upon reaching the top.

Once again, you followed behind Tom through the hall and to his room. You stood awkwardly in the doorway, clenching onto the straps of your beach bag, as he entered to find more suitable clothing.

After disappearing for a moment, he popped his head back out.

“You can come in, you know. This might take a few minutes.”

You stepped further into his suite, making your way to the sliding doors attached to a balcony. Looking out you could see Los Angeles in full light, the people and cars below feeling so out of reach, like nothing you had ever experienced in your city.

You seemed so out of place in the heavily decorated room still in beach clothing and legs covered in sand.

You could hear Tom rummaging through the drawers and walked over, giving a gentle knock on the open door.

“Having trouble, twinkle toes?” you joked at the way he pillaged through his clothes. He smiled at your commentary.

“Maybe a bit. Do you need anything? A drink, snack? The fridge is stocked so take anything you like.”

You were surprised at his generosity and at how little he cared about paying for that stuff. In your family, everything in the hotel room was off limits if it wasn’t free.

“I think I’m good but do you mind if I use your restroom? I really need to rinse this sand off and put on some real clothes.”

“Go right ahead,” he gestured to the bathroom door.

The bathroom was also massive, especially for a hotel. The shower thankfully had a handheld spray head so you were able to just target and rinse your legs. You tugged on some athletic shorts and a loose tank top to replace your former garments.

You quickly used the toilet too and went to wash your hands, not believing how many fancy soaps and lotions covered the counter. 

As you lathered, a small bottle caught the corner of your eye. It was a light yellowish color and read “OBSESSION for men.” 

Of course he would wear Calvin Klein cologne. Now I know.

You finished up and made a final once over in the mirror, fixing some stray hairs in your ponytail and opening up the door. 

You stopped in your tracks as your eyes laid upon Tom, who was shirtless with his back to you, the elastic of his underwear poking out of his pants’ waistline.

“You’re a pretty big fan of Calvin Klein, huh?” you asked, referring to both the cologne and his boxers. He turned around, giving you a view of his bare chest, which didn’t disappoint, a fact that you pretended was annoying.

“Hah, yeah. I really want to do an ad campaign with them if you couldn’t tell,” he bent over to pick up a shirt from the bed and toss it on. 

“Well with the cologne and underwear you’re pretty much a walking billboard.”

“You like the cologne?” he asked, causing your face to heat up. You knew a blush was present and probably obvious, so you decided not to lie. 

“Yeah, actually I do. It’s a nice scent. It also happens to be all over my bed right now thanks to a certain someone,” you tipped down your chin and raised an eyebrow accusingly. 

“You want it? The company actually sent me like… eight bottles and a bunch of clothes not too long ago after I posted on Instagram about them. I can’t get rid of them fast enough,” he offered, walking towards you.

“What? No! I couldn’t just take that from you. What would I tell my friends when they see men’s cologne bottle in my room? I can’t say ‘oh yeah Tom Holland gave it to me’ and it would be majorly out of character to tell everyone that it’s what you wear.”

He went past you into the bathroom and rummaged through a toiletry bag, muttering an “aha!” when he pulled out another bottle identical to the one on the counter, except this was sealed and full.

“Seriously Tom I can’t just tak-” you started when he dropped the bottle into your bag.

“Whoops,” he quipped, “no take backs. Now your bed can forever smell like me”

You were ready to argue again (with an undeniable smile on your face) when there was a loud rapping on the main door.

Tom grimaced at you to wordlessly send a message of ‘prepare yourself’ as he took a deep breath in and headed out of his bedroom. You silently followed into the living room and watched Tom open the door, where a well dressed man and woman pair stood talking.  

                            __________________________________

At first you and Tom together discussed the plan you had made at the beach with his manager and publicist, neither of whom seemed to like the idea very much.

They asked to speak with Tom privately, so you relocated back into the bedroom and sat on the side of his bed, reminiscing on how the roles were almost reversed compared to only two evenings prior. 

You were only in there for about ten minutes, but it seemed like hours. You were too anxious to mess with your phone and instead looked out his window.

There was a quiet knock on the door before Tom opened it. You recognized the steely look in his eyes and the way his jaw was clenched. 

He motioned for you to come out, and almost immediately after stepping into the living room his manager started talking to you.

“So, y/n, right? I’m gonna have to give this to you straight. You cannot be seen with my client ever again,” she stated bluntly, “it’s nothing against you, of course, but Tom here needs to maintain a ‘single’ rep until this movie is no longer in theatres and frankly you’re jeopardizing the whole thing.”

Your eyebrows shot up and you weren’t happy to hear this woman’s feigned criticisms.

“I’m sorry, but Tom is the one who sought me out. I never liked him, you could ask any person who knows me and they would tell you the same. I’m only here because Tom asked me to meet him about getting rid of this whole ‘scandal’ or whatever you want to call it. So if anyone is jeopardizing Tom, it’s himself.”

The publicist took a step forward.

“Look, miss y/n, it’s really nothing against you, we just want to maintain his image, and the best way to do so would be for us to go online and tell everyone he helped you get medical attention for an injury, which we all know is true, and end it at that. It makes Tom look like a hero, and you’ll be popular for weeks with your peers I’m sure,” he explained, angering you further. 

“I never asked for this. I don’t want attention. I don’t want the world, or more importantly my best friend, to find out I’ve been lying about the guy I used to hate. Do you realize how many rumors this will fuel? This is ridiculous and I can’t allow you to put out my information like this.”

“Oh, well. Too bad. I just sent the tip to TMZ and they’re posting the story tonight,” he replied, “and Tom is going live on Instagram at 4:00 to address it the way we told him to and you two can’t be seen together again. Text all you want like you have been, but no public contact. Unless of course we want to do a ‘girl saved by hero reunites with him’ thing. Oh man would that look so good-”

“I’m done. This is so sick. Tom,” you looked directly into his eyes, “never contact me again, you disgusting cheap sellout bastard,” you spat, a fire in your own eyes like nothing anyone had ever seen from you.

“Y/n I-“ he began, but you were already heading to the door. You could hear footsteps behind you and the door slam shut but you kept power walking towards the main elevators, hoping they were the opposite direction from which you and Tom initially came.

“Wait!” he cried out, finally catching up and grabbing your elbow.

You threw his hand off but stopped moving forward and instead spun around to face him. Tears had made their way down your cheeks by now and you weren’t any happier to be so vulnerable in front of Tom. 

Never in your life did or expect the next (or even last) guy you’d cry over would be Tom Holland.

“Y/n, please listen,” he pleaded, his face was also red, as if he were going to cry himself. You stood firm and gave him an expectant glare, so he continued.

“I don’t want to do this, I really don’t. Please understand that I have to, though, no matter how much this hurts. We can still talk. I was so drawn to you the second I saw you in that crowd just last week and I could’ve never imagined how close you could become in the short amount of time we’ve known each other. Please, babe, I don’t want to lose you.”

Anger flashed inside of you again and you felt your chest tighten at the bomb he’d just dropped..

“Do you really, Tom? Do you really care? Because to me it sounds like you actually have a choice here, but you’re too much of a pushover to do what’s right. If you really cared, you wouldn’t do this to me. I was serious back there. Don’t talk to me again, and definitely don’t call me babe if you do.” 

 “I’m so, so sorry, y/n,” Tom’s voice finally broke, and you could see the way his lip quivered as he continued, “I’m sorry I ever got you into this mess.”

“Me too,” you whispered. 

You wiped more stray tears and turned, looking back one last time into the face of the broken-hearted celebrity, hoping it was the last time you would ever see his face, but knowing it wouldn’t be the end of it.

                            __________________________________

You exited the elevator, which you were glad was empty. More tears had fallen on the journey down and you mustered up everything you could to stop them, at least until you were off the premises of the hotel. 

Though knowing you looked like a wreck, you walked through the hotel lobby with head held high, looking straight forward at the large front doors. 

Your numbered ticket was in hand and you gladly gave it to the valet so he could pull up your car.

It was getting harder to hold it together as you waited. Finally, he appeared and parked the car in front of you.

He held out the keys and then stood directly in front of you, silently pleading for a tip, even though he could probably see the obvious anguish on your face. 

Finally, you gave in, rolling your eyes as you dug through your bag for a spare $5 bill and slapped it into his hand with disdain.

“How kind. Have a nice day, ma’am!” he voiced cheerily.

You fought the urge to flip him off as you sat down in the driver’s seat and began the journey back home, dread filling your stomach the closer home became.

                           __________________________________

A/N: yeehaw that was a fun time. Next chapter is angsty too sorry I don’t make the rules... :)

Tag List: @marvel-lously, @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl

[wonwoosthetic]

The Start Of A Comic Con Love Story || Jake Gyllenhaal

MASTERLIST is in my bio :)

This request has been in my ask box for quite a while, sorry it took me a while. I hope you enjoy it! :) <3

Request: Hey. Can you write one with Jake Gyllenhaal? Where the reader is a young novelist in her late twenties and they meet at comic con where she's there to promote her fantasy novel and he's there as part of the spiderman panel. Can you make it like Tom Holland sees her first and tries to flirt but fails to catch her attention and goes to seek Jake's help but when Jake sees her instead of helping out Tom he snags her for himself? If not to cheesy something like love at first sight...

Characters: Jake Gyllenhaal, Reader, Tom Holland, Jacob Batalon

Warnings: none

The Start Of A Comic Con Love Story

"Thank you, bye", you said goodbye kindly, with a big smile on your face, to one of the many fans that had been waiting in line to get a picture with you and an autograph. There you were, sitting behind a table excitedly and nervous as heck as you saw the mass of people that were still waiting patiently. You had been signing books and taking pictures for over an hour and the line didn't seem to get any shorter - this wasn't something you ever thought would happen.

--- Throwback ---

"I'm sorry but no." "No one will read something like this." "This is... no, sorry." "Not with me." "I don't think anyone will give you a contract." "You won't find any publishing company that'll publish this." Those were comments and statements you had heard ever since you started looking for a company to publish your recently finished book. It had taken you almost a year and although you couldn't be any prouder, hope was starting to leave you. No one wanted to publish your book, calling it a foolish story, ridiculous and even unreadable or painful to read. Putting all of that work into it seemed to had been useless and a waste of time.

Sitting in your tiny New York Apartment which you were paying for way too much, tears started forming in your eyes and threatened to leave them. You were going to have to leave your beloved home if you wouldn't be able to find any publishing company willing to help you out. Your tiny TV was showing a documentary about J.K. Rowling, one of your heroes and role models. She was talking about how no one wanted to publish Harry Potter and her entire life seemed to have fallen apart. You wanted to stay positive, you really did, but reality hit you -  you were never going to have the luck this amazingly talented woman had had. You weren't talented, enough people had told you that.

A 'ding' noise from your phone brought you back into the present time. Turning your head to the left, your phone was on the floor next to you, the screen lit up - an email. You took it into your hand and looked at the sender - Joanne Rowling. You choked on your spit. Immediately, you unlocked your phone and pressed the Mail button. The internet letter read as followed:

Dear (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N), I heard about your story. Two days ago a publicist from Penguin got into contact with me and told me about your book, sadly they weren't able to sign you but I read about your book idea and I LOVE IT! I know exactly what you're currently going through and it's daunting, I understand but I don't want you to give up. Back when I was a struggling, but most importantly, an aspiring writer, no one was there to help me. After a lot of ups and downs, I finally got the help I needed - I want to be that person for you. Here I am writing you this email, offering to help you. I'm inviting you to London next weekend, I hope you're free, from the 8th of March till the 11th. The plane ticket is attached as well as your hotel information. I hope you accept my offer! I'm looking forward to an answer and am excited to meet you!

With lots of love, Joanne

-----------------

Person after person. Two hours went by. Three hours. It slowly came to the fourth when the security man behind you leaned down and to tell you, "We're gonna close the penal for twenty minutes, you can go behind the curtain, cool down and then come back again, alright?"

You looked up with a thankful look and a smile on your face, nodded and stood up after seeing the barrier being put up to prevent the fans from going any further. Quickly making your way "backstage", you got hand over a bottle of water which you gulped down faster than you probably should have. After taking a seat on the couch placed on the side, you realized that twenty minutes was a long enough time to walk around and explore the magic that is Comic-Con since you had been a fan of too many fandoms that got represented there. You looked around the room, finally catching the eye of your manager. You stood up and started walking up to her. Before even reaching her, you already started talking, "Melissa, can I walk around for a bit. I won't be gone for too long, I just want to have a quick look around." "No, you can't just walk away-", "But I'll be back on time", you argued back, which won her over. With a grunt, she grabbed your arm and, pretty much, pushed you out of the room which had curtains as walls. "I'm so gonna regret this but you're not going anywhere alone here, you'll get lost or attacked or-", you cut her off, "Woah, woah, woah, calm down", chuckling, "attacked? I'll be alright, don't worry." "No, you wouldn't be, trust me." And you believed her.

You saw what happened to the Marvel stars that entered the building only seconds after you, obviously, they were a lot more famous than you but to your surprise, the reaction of the people waiting wasn't a lot different than the reaction you received. The two of you were walking at a very quick pace to god knows where, so you stopped in your tracks, taking her surprise, "Alright, stop for a second. I want to go to the Spiderman panel, where's that?" "No", Melissa shook her head. "Yes", you talked back. "No", "Yes", "I said, no", "Why not?", you whined like a little kid would to their mother. "BECAUSE I know what those panels are like. Their fans are crazy and we don't have enough time." You rolled your eyes at her comment and started dragging her into a different direction where you knew the panel would be since you... well... yes, you looked it up. Your heart felt like it was starting to beat in your throat, you completely ignored the comments coming from the woman who you had been linking arms with. The nervousness raised rapidly as you thought of the fact that you were about to see the actors of one of your favourite movies of all time. Together, with a lot of nagging, you reached the doors of the hall, which, to your surprise, were open and people were leaving the room. "Wait, what? Nooo", you whined once more that day, realizing you had just missed the one panel you were most excited about. Melissa noticed your frustration, rolled her eyes, and dragged you to a side door which got protected by a rather large man in a security outfit. She showed him her badge that was hanging from the key chain around her neck and he let you in immediately.

All of a sudden, you were in a big, way bigger than yours, backstage area where people were running around in a rush, trying to get through as quickly as possible. Melissa placed the two of you on the side of the room, "Stay here, I'm gonna go and ask something real quick, alright? Be right back!", she shouted as he already made her way to whoever she wanted to talk to. You rolled your eyes at her motherly behaviour since you were old enough to take care of yourself. After standing and looking around for a bit, you noticed a presence next to you. Turning to your right, you came to sight with the one and only Spiderman himself, Tom Holland. "Hey, you're (Y/N) (Y/L/N), right?", he asked with his hands in his jeans pockets. "Yeah, oh my god, you actually know who I am", you were shocked. "Of course, I love your book series!" "Oh wow, thank you. Thank you so much." He quickly got his right hand out of his pocket and went to shake yours, "I'm Tom", to which you chuckled, "I know, I'm a big fan", you shook his hand. You could tell he was nervous which you found incredibly cute. He, in general, was extremely cute, not your type, but very cute. You started having a chat but he quickly came to the realization that you seemed to always drift away.

"Alright, well, it was great to meet you, I just... I have to get going, I'm sorry", he excused himself from the chat, to which you answered, "Oh no, that's totally fine, don't worry", you shook hands once more, "it was great to meet you too and good luck with the new Spiderman!", you knew he didn't need the luck, still, it was a nice thing to say.

--- 3rd Person ---

Well, that chat didn't go as planned, Tom thought as he made his way back to his co-star Jacob who got then accompanied by Jake Gyllenhaal. As soon as he reached the two men, the Philippian turned towards his friend excitedly, "AND? How did it go?" Tom shrugged, "She's just a lovely as I thought she'd be but the conversation didn't go where I wanted it to." "Aw, sorry man", he patted the Spiderman actor on the shoulder - Jake right next to the two had absolutely no clue what was going on whatsoever. "What happened?", he wondered. "There's that authour Tom really likes and he wanted to talk to her and...", Jacob started gesturing around with his hands, "you know... maybe ask her out... or something. Hey, maybe you could help him." The older actor raised his eyebrows "Oooh, and who is that author?" Trying to be as subtle as possible, Tom pointed to her direction. Jake's eyes immediately found the silhouette leaning on the wall, looking like she was waiting for something or probably someone. All he could see was her hair just sitting perfectly, how she somewhat looked slightly nervous making her appear even more adorable. Even from that distance, he could see her eyes shimmering and shining as she was looking around the room, taking in everything that came to her sight - and suddenly the two of them locked eyes. It was quick... but powerful.

"Oh, I think someone has found her", Jacob joked, trying the cheer Tom up which didn't really help but still made him crack a grin. "Sorry boys, but I gotta go", and with that, he left, and started making his way towards the woman by the wall, earing a, "Hey! I thought you'd help me!", from Tom, which got slightly overheard by his co-star due to all of the other people talking rather loudly.

--- 2nd Person ---

You were still waiting for your manager to come back and maybe show you around - although you had earned yourself quite a status, the anxiety of walking around somewhere on your own in a space that you don't know, hadn't gone away yet. Somebody clearing their throat next to you made you turn your head to the spot where Tom stood not even three minutes ago. Looking up, you found out that it actually was Jake Gyllenhaal, whom you had actually locked eyes with before but quickly turned away, trying to avoid the awkwardness. But there you suddenly were, next to each other.

"Hey, sorry for just jumping at you... I'm Jake", he, too, reached out his right hand, seemed a lot more confident though. You chuckled, "Oh, hi, I'm (Y/N). Not to sound creepy... but I know who you are." The two of you shook hands and yours went right back behind your back. "Right", he laughed, "you don't sound creepy, don't worry." "Good, good", you joined in with laughing. "Right, ehm... I just", he took a deep breath, "I just saw you from across the room and... this is going to sound very cheesy", his expression made you raise your eyebrows, "but I saw you and I just have to take you out to dinner, I thought", a loud laughter escaped your mouth, making him smile as well, "I know, I know, but honestly, I don't think I could have forgiven myself if I hadn't even tried asking you."

You could start your cheeks starting to turn a reddish colour and suddenly you were feeling a lot hotter than before, "Well... I-I feel very honoured to be asked that, thank you." A boyish grin started spreading on his lips, "No need to thank me, I'll be the one to say that if your answer happens to be yes." You noticed his cheekiness and decided to play along, not knowing where the confidence came from, "To what question?", you asked with a wide grin. "(Y/N), would you be so lovely and go out for dinner with me?" "Absolutely, yes." Two wide smiling people were now looking at each other, neither knowing how not even talking to the other person for five minutes could already make them feel like this.

"Alright", he swiped off the imaginary sweat from his forehead with a sigh, "now that that's covered, would it be rude to ask for your number?" "No, it wouldn't", with a smile you took the extended phone in front of you and started tipping in your number when you felt another presence on the other side of you. As soon as you looked up, Melissa was standing there waiting for you to be done with a knowing look a cheeky grin. You handed the phone back, "Well, it was very nice to meet you, Jake. I have to go but thank you and... text me", with a smile you left him. Your manager immediately linked arms with you, "Tell me, EVERYTHING", making you giggle. As she started rambling about you and the male actor, the two of you walked through the open door, she first then you, you turned around once more and found the blue eyes man looking at you leaving. He turned around to his fellow actors with his arms wide open, "Guess who's got a date?"

-----------------------------------------

I’m not too sure if this turned out as great as I would have wanted it, but I hope you like it! :)

I could definitely imagine a second part for this, please let me know what you think!

Thank you for reading and I hope you have a great day/night :) <3

[ibelieveinahappilyeverafter]

Writing Commission - A Gift of Sunshine - Chapter 5

Merry (late) Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Blessed Yule! My apologies for such a delay in the update today, but here we are at last! As apology and a gift, take a double chapter update!

Also, a few of you expressed concern over where the story is going considering there's so many chapters left, and, well... let's just say that good things will come in the end. :)

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Summary: It is the worst day of fifteen-year-old Aizawa Shouta’s life when he trudges home after a failed entrance test to U.A. – the school made for heroes. His worst day abruptly turns strange, however, when he gets home to find a beautiful sword on his bed with a scroll attached that is addressed from his grandfather.

It turns out that his entire family was descended from a samurai (unsurprising considering he lived in Japan) and the sword was meant to help him become a hero. Shouta hadn’t been expecting the sword to talk, however, and he especially hadn’t expected the sword to have a voice as warm as sunshine itself.

It’s a long journey to become a hero like he wants, but Shouta has a feeling that he and Hizashi are going to do just fine.

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Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia    

Relationship: Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic/Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead

Characters: Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead

Rating: Teen Audiences

Word Count (Total): 35,935  

Transaction Amount: $250 (USD)

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             Check out my writing commission information here!                    Pledge to my Patreon to get exclusive content!

                      Read and follow the story on AO3!

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                                            Chapter Five

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Staring down at the mounds of disorganized paperwork in his lap, Shouta idly bit down on his pen and wondered, if he bit hard enough to break the pen and swallow some of the ink, if that would be enough to relieve him of having to deal with the stress of what would surely be his death. Forget villains and falling buildings, it would be the paperwork that would kill him in his career as a pro-hero. 

“My, my, what a terrifying scowl, Eraserhead!” Twitching at the words that might as well have been purred out, Shouta glanced up to see ‘Midnight’ and ‘Present Mic’ cheerfully waving at him from his doorway, Nemuri holding Hizashi’s sword in one hand and a bag of take-out in the other. He regretted the day he gave his friends keys to where he lived. “Aw, aren’t you happy to see us? See, see, we even brought you back dinner!”

Shouta managed to withhold his growl, instead turning back to his paperwork with a silent vow that he would burn it, his apartment, and everything inside to the ground if the police so much as lost a single piece of paper once he turned it in; hell, he’d burn the police station down, too. Plus Ultra, and all. 

“Shouta, please tell me you’ve actually slept instead of just doing paperwork,” Nemuri was striding over with a very no-nonsense Tensei attitude, dropping Hizashi’s sword into his lap before starting to open and spread out the multiple containers of food that was far too much for two people. “You’re supposed to be resting or else that broken leg of yours is never going to heal!”

“I don’t need rest. I need to get this work done,” Shouta grunted, adjusting the sword to where he was still free to do his paperwork even as he felt Hizashi’s arms curl around his shoulders, a single glance up showing the man smiling down at him. 

Hizashi had ‘changed’ into simple clothing that looked soft and easy to move in and his hair, as well, was down out of its ‘hero style’ and lightly pulled out of his face, glasses low on the bridge of his nose; which was still ridiculous. Why did a spirit need glasses? Right. Shouta was getting distracted. He made sure to refocus by glaring at Hizashi with a muttered, “You don’t even start.”

“Aw, what’s wrong, Starlight?” Instead of Nemuri’s over-the-top and sexual tone that coated her purred out words, Hizashi’s was always so much softer and more genuine, the words near whispered against his cheek. The pressure was never anything that could be mistaken as another person touching him, but it was never devoid of warmth, either. It was also just… Hizashi. “Are you still upset Nem and I had to take over?”

“According to what the police are constantly telling me, you don’t legally exist,” Shouta complained, relaxing into Hizashi’s soft hugs and kisses as Nemuri fluffed his pillows, which had been fine, before starting to shove food at him. “I have a broken leg and an appointment with a healer’s quirk tomorrow. Stop fussing.” 

“I am not fussing,” Nemuri frowned, the lie said as if she truly believed it. “Is that why you’re so wound up? Just say you teamed up with me and Present Mic for this one and be done with it!” 

“You do know that a lot of heroes don’t know if ‘Present Mic’ is even real or not, don’t you?” Shouta felt a swat to his side that made him flinch before he was glaring at Hizashi again, who gestured for him to eat. “You need to stop possessing other pros when they show up on a crime scene.”

“Good luck with that,” Nemuri muttered ‘quietly,’ Shouta throwing her a glare of her own as the woman grabbed her own food and squirmed around on the couch to be able to both touch the sword and not touch his broken leg.

Hizashi, meanwhile, was whining again, “What? No! Shouta, baby, please, it’s not my fault that all of our co-workers are essentially idiots and can’t be bothered to listen to a decent plan without ego getting in the way.” While Nemuri snorted hard enough that it no doubt had hurt, Shouta hid his own laughter with a couple bites of food. “Technically, I do legally exist since I was born in this country. It was just, uh… a long time ago.” 

“Unless you can find a birth or death certificate, I don’t think telling them that will help,” Shouta sighed, unable to help the smile he could feel forming when Hizashi pressed a soft kiss against his cheek. “How was the raid? I assume it went fine since neither of you are complaining about dying.” 

Then again, all of Shouta’s friends were idiots. Tensei had broken an arm and continued to fight for a full two hours before he had even noticed what had happened - the same Tensei who had cried when getting a papercut a few weeks back, as Shouta recalled. All in all, he wouldn’t be surprised if his idiots were actively dying while acting like everything was fine. 

Hizashi, at least, knew him too well as always, already giving a quiet laugh even as he answered. “We’re fine, Shou-chan. Besides, you know I’d forcibly control Nem and take her to the hospital if I thought she needed it.” 

“Hey! You said you’d never possess me without consent unless it was an emergency,” Nemuri accused, dramatic ‘heartbroken’ tone to her words that sounded fake as could be. It was enough to make Hizashi flounder, though, Shouta doing nothing beyond watching his boyfriend make excuses and reassure an ‘inconsolable’ Nemuri. He honestly wasn’t sure if Hizashi bought it, or if he had too much fun playing along to the drama; either one was believable with these two. 

All their dramatics gave Shouta time to focus back on his paperwork, though, managing to finish off another sheet along with another few bites of food as he thought over the problem that was teaming up with ‘Present Mic.’ 

While Hizashi technically had a hero license due to Nezu’s meddling and some very bemused scorers for the actual test they had taken, they were still left with the problem that Present Mic wasn’t ‘real’ to most people. Hizashi’s license kept them from being declared villains-in-the-making due to all the possession that took place during their fights, but, to Shouta’s knowledge, all the police stations in over a dozen prefectures despised their teamwork and methods.  

Getting Hizashi registered as Present Mic had started as Shouta just wanting to make sure Hizashi was given the proper credit he was due, as the two of them really did work as a duo in their careers now, but it had ended up as one large headache; especially with the gaggle of pro-hero children who seemed to think that they were being mind controlled even after their ‘team ups.’ 

“If you keep scowling like that then eventually it’s gonna stick,” Hizashi teased, patting at Shouta’s cheek and laughing when Shouta swatted him off. “C’mon, it’s not that bad! Legally they can’t do shit to us, after all.” 

“Legally they can make my life a living nightmare with the paperwork they give me and then ‘lose,’” Shouta snorted, reaching for another container of food absently and starting in on that one as well, idly wondering if he should ask Nezu if there were any plans to turn the entire system digital once and for all. Then again, his work would probably just be deleted out of spite. “Maybe we should prove a point and burn one of the stations down.”

“You just need to smile through it, Shouta,” Nemuri sighed, as if she wasn’t rising in popularity and already had a devoted following for her hero image. “Oh! That reminds me! Your agency’s publicist contacted me earlier today!” 

“Megumi-san? Why does she have your number?” It wasn’t unheard of for publicists to have some heroes get in contact with others depending on patrol schedules and timing, but that was only if the heroes worked for the same agency. “Is something wrong?”

Nemuri grinned and Shouta felt mildly scared at the same moment Hizashi’s arms tightened around him. “She wanted me to remind you boys that you have an interview tomorrow.”

“Ah. I’m not going.” Shouta took another bite of food, chewing slowly and savoring Nemuri’s shocked and offended expression. Leave it to a media hero to be offended at the idea of avoiding them. “My leg is broken.” 

“That’s why Megumi-san contacted me to let me know that your interview was rescheduled to be after your appointment which, like you said earlier, will heal your leg up the rest of the way.” Humming to show he had heard, Shouta idly wondered if breaking another leg would be considered a sign of madness. “And, since I’m such a good best friend, I’ll even be escorting you from the hospital to the station!”

There was a little snicker from Hizashi and Shouta would have thrown the rest of his food in the spirit’s face if it wouldn’t just go through him and stain the carpet. As it was, Shouta made sure to pinch his side until he earned an unflattering yelp. “Aw, c’mon, Shou-chan! This is a great opportunity to present a better image for underground heroes - you won’t even be on television! It’s just for a magazine!” 

“What part of underground hero do you two still not get? I’m not supposed to be known at all, let alone out and doing interviews like some ranked hero who never learned that this job is about more than just a pretty smile.” His friends, horrible creatures that they were, didn’t even give his speech anything beyond an eyeroll. They could burn when Shouta set fire to the police station, he decided. “It’s a bad idea.”

“Just let Hizashi take over if you’re so worried about it,” Nemuri sighed, waving her chopsticks lazily as if that wasn’t the worst idea in the world. “He, at least, is good at dealing with the media.”

Shouta laughed at that, unable to help himself as he half-grinned at Nemuri, “Are you kidding? Half the time it’s him who’s pushing me to let loose on the media because they’re ‘trespassing on a crime scene.’”

“Well, that is true,” Nemuri admitted. “But he’s better at acting like he likes the media, unlike you, who does nothing whatsoever to hide his disdain.” Shouta hummed, finishing off the last bite of food as spitefully as he could manage. “Look, it’s just one short interview about life as an underground hero. You’ll be in and out in under an hour at most.” 

“It’s a good chance at getting underground heroes seen in a better light,” Hizashi pointed out, a hand running through Shouta’s hair in a gesture that almost had him melting. “I think it’ll be good.” 

Ah, well… If Hizashi wanted to do it then Shouta supposed that was that. “If you’re underground you shouldn’t be in any light,” Shouta complained one last time, knowing that the other two knew he had given in just by their grins. 

Still, an hour talking about underground heroes was something he could handle well enough. Really, Shouta was sure it wouldn’t be that bad. 

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Shouta, with as much hatred, annoyance, and sheer panic as he could muster, clearly and loudly thought the words, This is your fault. 

“If we wanna get technical here, it’d be our publicist’s fault,” Hizashi grumbled, sitting on the arm of the armchair Shouta had been forced into the moment he stepped in the room he had been directed to for his interview.

After everything had been explained, Shouta had expected a frazzled intern with too many things to do and too little time on their hands to bother asking too many questions. Instead his interview was being conducted by someone with over a decade of experience, eyes that felt like they were waiting for him to slip up, and a recording device that had been on since the moment he walked into the room. 

“You think we could get this chick to sign up for recon at the agency,” Hizashi half-mumbled to himself, Shouta taking small solstice in the feeling of Hizashi leaning against his side and arm and staying close by. “She’s fucking ruthless and I feel like half of ‘em would love her.”

The interviewer, Tanaka, was shuffling through what looked like a plan of attack in bullet point format after Shouta had vaguely explained the differences between acceptable risks and levels of violence and how it changed between ‘media’ heroes and those who worked underground. Tanaka had shown no expression and Shouta was half-wondering if he and his entire agency would be sued. 

“So, Aizawa-san, it’s said that you’re officially registered as part of a hero duo with the hero ‘Present Mic,’ but research shows that there’s no record of him beyond a registered hero license dated the same as yours. Care to elaborate?”

Deciding the answer ‘not really’ wouldn’t be sufficient, Shouta tried to relax as he gave a calm answer, “Present Mic and I went to school together at U.A. and formed a duo after we graduated. He’s a more private person than I am, so it’s unsurprising there’s not much information on him.” 

Hizashi, at least, found Shouta’s comment about him being ‘private’ as amusing as Shouta thought it was, laughing where Shouta wasn’t able to. “I’ll remember you said that so I can have you back me up next time Tensei yells at me for oversharing.” 

“And what of the rumors that your partnership is a romantic one and that you two have been together since your school days?” Tanaka remained completely serious and Shouta took a moment to force himself to stay blank and calm even as Hizashi sputtered beside him, Shouta wanting to do much the same. 

“May I ask as to where these rumors originated beyond any base speculation?” Because, yes, alright, every hero fan assumed that all hero duos were romantic at one point or another in their lives if they weren’t siblings, but for an interviewer to just come out and ask? Shouta wasn’t sure if anyone besides Tensei, Nemuri, and possibly Nezu even knew that he and Hizashi were together. Well, Shukuchi might have, but Shouta was sure his former mentor had done his best to pretend they hadn’t been together. 

“It’s been a matter of speculation for quite some time in the pro hero circles, especially those that surround underground heroes. I was wondering if you would be able to confirm any of these rumors or lay them to rest.” Hizashi was right. Tanaka was ruthless. 

“Tell her that you’re dating your sword. She might be freaked out enough to end the interview early so we can finally leave,” Hizashi snickered, Shouta doing his best to not glare at him or give in to the urge to pinch him. 

As it was, he took a moment to center himself before trying to appear as relaxed as possible, leaving his answer at a simple, “No.” 

“I see.” Ah, so no was the wrong answer. Good to know for the future, he supposed. “Continuing on with the subject, do you feel comfortable being in a relationship as a pro hero?” 

“Yes, I feel comfortable with the possibility of being in a relationship, and many other heroes will say the same. While as an underground hero I’m afforded more secrecy and protection, other heroes have been taught and learned how to separate their civilian life and their hero life in order to have normal, healthy           relationships.” 

Hizashi gave a snort of laughter, nudging at Shouta, “I’m sure Nezu will be proud to know his favorite student remembered all of his lectures by heart.” The urge to shove him off the chair was overwhelming. 

“Yet statistics have shown that relationships involving heroes often fail and last no longer than six months to a year, and these numbers only shrink when it comes to underground heroes and the secrecy involving their work. What do you think about this?” 

“Jesus,” Hizashi muttered, no doubt feeling the same disgust Shouta was. “It’s always about the fucking romance angle, isn’t it? Isn’t she supposed to be asking you about, you know, hero work?”

Shouta mumbled a near voiceless, “She’s supposed to.” before speaking normally. “I think that relationships require work and communication no matter the circumstances.” 

A gleam entered Tanaka’s eye and Shouta felt something like ice slide into his veins even as he made a note to yell at Megumi later. “So, you’re saying you condone lying to your partner as that’s what’s required of pro hero relationships.” 

“Shouta,” Hizashi half-sang, something sharp and dangerous in his tone as Shouta felt the man’s hand curl around his wrist. “Shouta, you should let me take over for a few minutes.” Shouta was half-tempted, but he was pretty sure yelling at an interviewer would be better than cutting her open with a sword. 

“In no capacity did I say that lying to one’s partner is required for a relationship in which one party is a pro hero. There are some things that can’t be shared such as case details, yes, but I doubt your partner needs to know about the drug ring you’re tracking in order to feel secure in the relationship.” 

“But at one point or another lying would simply have to come into play. You yourself mentioned in this interview that being an underground hero is dangerous work, and that there’s always the chance that those around you will be in some form of danger.” 

Shouta could feel Hizashi mentally pushing at him, desperately wanting to take over and say his own piece. Shouta calmly brushed the mental presence away, standing up at the same time before catching Tanaka’s gaze and not letting go. 

“As surprising as this might come to someone like you, a relationship can exist without the need for lies and secrecy, as both myself and my partner of five years can testify to. If that will be all, Tanaka-san, I have work to do.” 

Shouta was already out the door and slamming it shut behind him before he had to listen to that woman’s voice for any longer, anger carrying him all the way back to their apartment before Shouta was dropping onto the couch and scrubbing a hand down his face, along with a muttered, “Megumi is going to kill us for this.” 

There was no answering remark or comment and that realization alone had Shouta darting up, hand closing tight around the sheath of the sword as he quickly looked around for Hizashi who… was staring at him. Silently. 

Taking a moment to make sure neither of them were dying and Shouta hadn’t said something worthy of the silent treatment, he finally broke the silence with a quiet, “What’s wrong, Sunshine?” Because it was possible that after all of that Hizashi was even more upset than he was.

“No- No, no, it’s nothing bad, I just- I didn’t-” Hizashi floundered, somehow still soft and quiet even as another part of him seemed overwhelmed and manic. “I… I knew you cared I just didn’t know… I never thought you’d admit you cared to anyone who didn’t know, let alone a reporter. I mean, I’m- I’m not exactly, you know- It’s not like it counts.”

Hoping he was wrong about what Hizashi’s fumbling words could mean, Shouta stood up slowly and moved until he was in front of Hizashi, cutting off the man’s panicked pacing. “‘Zashi. I can’t answer any questions you have if you can’t tell me what those questions are. What doesn’t count?”

“Us! We don’t count!” Hizashi looked a few seconds away from crying and Shouta felt as if the air had been stolen from his lungs. “I’m nothing more or less than a ghost, Shouta, whatever happens between us is just- It’s nothing!”

Hizashi’s shout seemed to ring the air for what felt like an eternity, Shouta taking a slow, calm breath before he did something stupid like throw the sword out the closest window. He loved his boyfriend deeply, after all, even if he was the biggest idiot within all of Japan. 

“Alright, then.” Taking another step closer towards Hizashi, Shouta narrowed his eyes when he saw the man take a stumbling step back. That alone, more than anything else, spoke volumes. “Tell me, while looking me in the eye, that our relationship means nothing to you.” 

A flash and, like always, the manic and panicked energy seemed to leave Hizashi all at once, Shouta’s arms opening at once as Hizashi fell into them with a muffled sob that hurt more than anything else. It hurt because they had been together for years and Shouta still hadn’t seen just how unsure Hizashi was in what they were to each other. 

“You’ve been getting caught up in your head, Sunshine,” Shouta said softly, running a hand through Hizashi’s hair and unable to stop the soft joy and awe he felt as it slid through his fingers. So many years of being able to touch and he still wasn’t over it. “Why are you really so upset? Because I mentioned I had a partner?” 

Hizashi managed to cut off what sounded like another forming sob, instead replacing it with a choked off, “Yes.” Shouta felt Hizashi’s nails dig into him, frantic and terrified. “Of course I’m upset, Shouta, because you saying that to someone like her makes it real.” 

Pulling back after a bit of a struggle, Shouta cupped Hizashi’s cheek with his free hand at once, frowning at the tear stains and red-rimmed eyes and shuddering breaths. For as much as he claimed he was nothing more than a ghost, Hizashi was the most human out of all of them. “And? Why does that make you upset? I need you to explain it to me, Hizashi. Why-”

“Because that means it’s only going to hurt more when you’re gone.” The words had Shouta snapping his mouth shut, surprised due to the sheer fact that Hizashi rarely, if ever, talked about what would happen after Shouta was… gone. “I love you so much, Shouta, so much that most days it hurts. I’ve never felt like this before and I know that one day, no matter how far away, I’ll lose this feeling-”

“No.” For once, Shouta’s mouth moved first, logic the furthest thing from his mind. “That’s… No. That’s not how it’s going to work.” Shouta leaned their foreheads together gently, smiling even as he saw Hizashi’s confused expression. “That’s not what’s going to happen because no matter what I’ll never… I’ll never stop loving you.” Emotions were never Shouta’s strong suit, but for Hizashi… He could always be strong for Hizashi. “Will you ever stop loving me-?”

“Of course not!” The enraged squawk had Shouta bursting into laughter, unable to stop himself from leaning in to kiss Hizashi softly, tasting the reluctant smile more than anything else. 

“Then how are you going to lose this feeling?” Shouta asked softly, feeling embarrassment squirm around inside him as Hizashi’s grief faded for a soft awe that Shouta had only ever seen directed at him. “I’ll be gone one day, and it’s not always going to be easy, but for right now… I’m here. I’m here and I love you.” 

Hizashi gave another choked cry, Shouta feeling the helpless smile on his face as he looked at this man he was so ridiculously in love with. “Do you think that’ll be enough, Sunshine?” 

“What the hell, Shouta, you can’t just do that we’ve talked about this! You know what happens when you get like this! You get emotional and then I get emotional and-” It was impossible to stop his laughter at Hizashi’s complaints, Shouta finally letting him go with one last kiss before heading towards the bedroom.

“Come on, drama queen, let’s get some rest before our next patrol. If we’re lucky we have at least a week before Nemuri finds out what I said in that interview and comes after me.” Nemuri would probably try to make their relationship ‘public,’ nevermind how she would manage to do something like that. Shouta wouldn’t put it past the witch. 

“Excuse you, I am not- Your phone is buzzing.” Pausing to glance back, Shouta looked around before noticing his phone on the couch where it had no doubt fallen out of his pocket, buzzing with text message after text message. 

“So it is.” Shouta would deal with it after his nap. “Come on. Nap time.” There was a snort of laughter that Shouta graciously chose to ignore. 

“Oh! It’s Nem!” Of course it was the witch. She had probably felt Shouta thinking poorly of her. “She’s asking about the… interview…”

Hearing the trailing silence and feeling a jolt of emotion that was almost enough to knock him off his feet, Shouta was spinning around and getting ready for anything, gaze quickly finding Hizashi, who was standing next to the couch with Shouta’s phone in his hand. 

“Hizashi? What’s wrong? What happened?” It was possible Nemuri had been texting about an emergency, but she would typically call, in that case. The emotion had definitely come from Hizashi, but Shouta had no idea what it was about when Hizashi was doing nothing more than standing there and staring down at… at Shouta’s phone that he was holding. “Oh.” 

Shouta scratched at his cheek for a moment, staring at Hizashi holding a physical object which, in their hard-learned experience, should be impossible. Finally, after what felt like too long, Shouta nodded to himself. 

“Come to bed and take a nap with me and I’ll let you pretend to be me when you text her. We’ll see how long it takes her to realize it’s you.” Shouta was once again heading towards the bedroom, smiling as he heard Hizashi’s loud laughter following after him. All in all, Shouta supposed he wouldn’t yell at Megumi too badly.