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wakaoujisenhime · 3 years

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I’m home - Bakugou x reader

Synopsis: Day after day you return home from work to either find your apartment empty or your husband asleep. Your last joint day off is also quite a while back, so you can’t help but feel rather lonely. And as if that wasn’t enough, you read an interview where your man had to give an insight on his married life with you and the questions he had to answer weren’t as pleasant as expected ...

tags/warnings: Bakugou x reader ✅ fluff ✅ (more or less) some domestic bliss ✅ minimal angst ✅

crossed off square: Take a day off

A/N: This has been in my WIPs for waaay too long, so I’m finally happy to have finished it. Hope you’ll enjoy it! (°◡°♡)

→ BINGO Event masterlist

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“Katsuki..“

“Hm?”

“When was the last time our day-offs were on the same day?”

——

You unlocked the front door to your apartment and stepped in as you silently announced that you were home, waiting for an answer which sadly never came.

So he’s still at work, huh?

With heavy steps, you slowly moved towards your living room, fully expecting to see your husband lying utterly exhausted on the black sofa. Much to your dismay, the only thing you saw was his Ground Zero themed jacket you had surprised him with on Valentine’s day last year.

A sigh escaped your mouth as you let your eyes scan the emptiness you called home, and that’s when you noticed something peculiar peeking out of one of your trash cans.

Upon taking a closer look at it, you realized that it was the latest issue of the monthly ‘My HERO!’ magazine, you always made sure to buy so that you could keep track of what your husband, as well as his friends, were up to.

“Katsuki, you dummy, I still haven’t read it yet, you know?” you mumbled to yourself while you took it out of the waste-paper basket and glanced at the cover picture.

A tall and bulky man whose red shirt emphasized his toned muscles perfectly took up almost the entire space of the booklet. His long black hair was tied up in a high ponytail, and if one looked closely, it was evident that there were still some red streaks left from back in his student days where he used to maintain a completely crimson hairstyle.

There were some of this issue’s top stories listed on the front page, so you skimmed through the short extracts.

Earphone Jack: A life between a hero and a rockstar

“With Sensei’s help”: The way someone from the general department became one of the TOP 20 heroes

ICY-HOT: How to not only follow into your father’s footsteps but completely obliterate them

“Let me show you how it’s done”: Red Riot’s guide to becoming the manliest hero of society and women’s hearts

Some of these headlines were quite funny to you, but that positive mood only lasted until you saw your husband’s name.

Exclusive interview: How is Katsuki Bakugou’s married life going?

Even though the title wasn’t anything exceptional, you couldn’t deny that it felt a bit suggestive and provocative at the same time. Curious as you were, you immediately looked up the corresponding pages and began reading through them.

The questions didn’t differ that much from other typical Q&A sessions with other prominent figures of society. Still, some tried to imply that Bakugou didn’t seem as happy as some other married pro heroes, and that implication was making you quite sad.

At some point, this little questionnaire got quite personal, and even if your husband was trying his best to maintain at least some kind of privacy, the reporter just couldn’t take a hint and continued prying. You could’ve only imagined just how mad he must’ve been at this point, but what interested you most were his answers.

Q: So, how are the two of you managing the housework?

A: It heavily depends on who comes home first, but both of us are trying to take as much load off as possible from the other.

Q: Do you suspect there might be a different reason for your wife’s late returns?

A: I don’t know what you’re trying to point at, but no, I don’t. She might not be a hero like me, but she’s still a very busy woman, and there are some days on which she even comes home when I’m already asleep.

Q: Aren’t there times when you wish to come home and see that everything’s been taken care of by her?

A: If I wanted a maid, then I would’ve simply hired one.

You angrily closed the magazine and stomped towards the sofa, where you plumped down and began pouting like a small child.

Now I know why he threw it away…

Those questions were nothing but pure incitement from the reporter who tried to subtly accuse you of being unfaithful and imply that whatever you were doing was insufficient for such a great hero like him.

Exhausted, you lay down and held onto your man’s jacket, the mix of his favorite cologne, and his scent instantly managed to calm you down a bit. You began imagining how he was kneeling in front of you, running his fingers along your hair while trying to calm your raging heart down by saying that these people knew nothing about his or your private life, and slowly but surely your eyelids grew heavy until they completely closed.

——

“I’m home.”

After quietly announcing his return, Bakugou disrobed his coat and kicked his shoes off his feet. Upon noticing your footwear, he immediately headed for the bedroom to see if you had already gone to sleep, but much to his surprise, you weren’t there. The thought that you were still at work crossed his mind as he scratched the back of his neck, a disappointed sigh escaping his mouth.

He dragged his feet across the floor and headed for the kitchen. When his red eyes fixated that magazine he had thrown away some hours ago, the unpleasant memories returned.

I thought I threw that garbage away.

Just as the man was about to repeat what he’d done today, a particular figure caught his attention.

(Y/N)...

Looking at your sleeping form while tightly holding onto his jacket was both calming but saddening as well. The question you asked him some days ago was still haunting his mind.

When was the last time our day-offs were on the same day?

He knew that this question wasn’t supposed to hint at something, but he couldn’t help but feel guilty. In truth, Bakugou had always requested that his day-offs were on days where you would work so that he could at least help you out even a little bit with the housework. The happy and surprised facial expressions you did when you saw just how much your boyfriend had done around the house always filled him with enormous self-satisfaction, so he figured: why not continue that way?

But now that this stupid interview had planted a small seed of doubt in his mind and after seeing you desperately clinging onto a piece of fabric that bore his smell, it made him realize that he’d lost sight of something quite more crucial than just simple relief of fewer dishes to wash.

His calloused fingers gently caressed your cheek while his red eyes focused on your slightly parted lips. He’d given everything to wake you up with a kiss on the lips, but there was no way he could cope with the guilt he would’ve felt from robbing these small but much-needed minutes of rest. Instead, he carefully picked you up like the princess you were for him, gently leaned your head on his shoulder, carried you to the big and fluffy bed the two of you had picked out together some years back. He was relieved to see that he’d been successful in not waking you up while he’d laid you down as carefully as possible.

After tucking you in like a cocoon, Bakugou shut the door behind him and pulled his mobile phone out of his jean’s pockets, frantically searching for a particular man’s number, and when he’d finally found the one he was looking for, he made no halt. He straight out called it while completely disregarding the fact that it was almost 1 AM.

A tired and grumpy voice picked up after the fourth ting, demanding to know just what the blond needed at such an ungodly hour.

“A favor...it’s about this week’s day-off.”

——

The next day you woke up to someone gently poking your cheeks, and when you finally managed to squint your eyes open, the first thing that stood out to you were spiky blond hairs.

“Katsuki..?” you asked in a silent voice, still unsure whether he was truly standing before you or not.

Said man changed his tactic and softly moved some of your hair from your eyes as he answered: “Yeah, it’s me. Now stop dawdling and get up or you’ll be late for work.”

Just as he was about to make some space for you to get out of bed, you wrapped your arms around his waist, which almost made the both of you fall over...almost.

“You little...what do you think you’re doing, huh?”

A muffled giggle was your answer to his rhetorical question, and no matter how hard he tried to get you off of him, you refused to let go, so for better or worse, he had to return your embrace and stay that way until you were satisfied.

After that short but wholesome cuddle session with your husband, you finally started doing as told and prepared for the upcoming workday.

“Alright then...I’ll be leaving,” you announced half loud, conscious of being a possible disturbance for your still sleeping neighbors while looking back at the already dressed up man behind you. Bakugou was standing there, and after seeing the desolate expression on your face, he immediately spread his arms, initiating the embrace you were so desperately looking for. While his arms rested on your back, rubbing it ever so gently you took his scent in, kissing his neck ever so gently, and wished him a good day.

——

“I’m home.”

You took a look around your dark apartment smiling sadly at the fact that your husband hadn’t come back yet, so you did what you always do on lonely evenings such as these: prepare some dinner, run a bath, surround yourself with soft blankets and watch your favorite shows and movies until you eventually drift off to sleep. The last thing you did before sleep caught up to you was check your phone’s calendar and check whether your partner’s day off matched yours and it sadly didn’t.

Alone tomorrow as well, huh…?

You had fallen asleep on such a sad and rather negative thought that it had killed your entire motivation for the following day. The moment you opened your eyes you immediately wanted to fall asleep yet again, so you turned yourself and were now facing your lover’s bed part. Suddenly something rather peculiar caught your eye. His bedside was way messier than when you slept alone, which could only mean that he had come home at some point and that’s when you heard a silent thud coming from beyond your room.

Could it be..?

You slowly got up and when you opened the bedroom door you were greeted by a rather funny sight. Bakugou was holding onto the kitchen counter with one of his hands and with the other he held his foot and was swearing silently something about how the ‘shitty counter’ had been in his way. He at first didn’t notice your presence but the moment you giggled softly his red eyes darted back to where you were standing.

“S-Shit…! Sorry babe, I didn’t mean to wake you!” he apologized in a silent voice. Instead of answering you simply jogged up to him and wrapped your arms tightly around his neck. This gesture was all he needed and his former anger was instantly blown away.

His strong arms glide along your back while his lips plant multiple gentle kisses on your temple. This gentle way of treating you wasn't something so uncommon and every time he did it it made you incredibly happy.

While you cuddled a sudden question crossed your mind that you couldn’t help but ask.

“Say Katsuki...it’s not like I’m ungrateful for you being here, but...isn’t your day off tomorrow?”

You expected him to get grumpy or insulted, but his reaction was quite the opposite of what you braved yourself for. The grin that appeared on his face was one full of pride and satisfaction, it was as if he had waited for that question.

“Well, what a coincidence of you to ask! Best Jeanist called me yesterday and said that he has to reschedule my free day for today, so I figured that I’d surprise you with some pancakes and grace you with my presence!”

His arrogant way of proclaiming this was a rather exaggerated attempt to hide the fact that he was actually the one who called up his superior at 1 AM in the morning, requesting the switch in days.

Normally such a sudden change wouldn’t be possible, but Best Jeanist had a hunch that his sidekick’s decision was most likely because of that interview he had a few days. The pro hero still remembered the way the blond had stormed into his office, screaming something about the audacity of the interviewer, about how these extras were lucky he held back, and how he’d make sure to ‘accidentally’ blow up their main building the next time he fought a villain. Considering his outburst, the older one figured that the questions must’ve been entirely different than anticipated so he decided to wait for the magazine’s next issue to release so that he could have a look as well.

You simply smiled to yourself and pressed your cheek on Bakugou’s trained chest, while the soft and pleasant smell of pancakes and sandalwood reached your nose. The two of you stayed like that for a couple of minutes until your husband gently pet your back, a subtle signal to signalize that it was time for the two of you to let go. With his warm hand still on your back he softly navigated you to one of the chairs he’d placed around your kitchen island and waited until you sat down so that he could serve you his fluffy creations.

“Et voilà! Katsuki’s extra fluffy and freshly prepared pancakes...hope you’ll enjoy them” he announced in a warm tone and kissed your cheek.

Looking at these soft goddesses you couldn’t help but lick your lips in anticipation, but you decided to wait for your beloved to join you so that you could dig in at the same time. It took a short while to persuade the blond who insisted that you start without him so that he could enjoy your blissful expression, but he yielded in the end.

His red eyes studied your positive reaction to the warm breakfast he’d prepared and a loving smile adorned his lips as he listened to the countless positive comments you uttered in regards to it.

Good thing I managed to escape her grasp this morning, ‘cause this expression is so worth it.

While you happily ate one bite after the other, Bakugou recalled today’s morning and how you had subconsciously wrapped your arms around his body and were cuddling up to him. The temptation to just lie there with you and shower your face with kisses until you woke up on your own was truly big, but he repeatedly told himself that your expression when you met him in the kitchen would be ten times cuter and more satisfying...and he was right.

“Hey (Y/N)...I love you, I really do” he said in a silent and almost soothing voice as he gently wiped off some crumbs from the corner of your mouth. You looked at him with slightly widened eyes. Your husband wasn’t that good with words as some so you often had to read between the lines and yet, this time you knew exactly what brought this sudden confession on.

The interview…

After swallowing that small bite of pancake which you’d been chewing on for a tad too long, you got up and walked around the edges of the island that separated you from your loved one.

The blond seemed to follow your line of thought and got up from his chair as well, already spreading his arms and readying himself for your embrace. When you were standing face to face with him you instinctively went for a hug and squeezed him as hard as you could while he placed his forehead on your shoulder and took in your pleasant smell.

It was at times like these where the thoughtfulness of your usually brash and impudent husband came to light and managed to cosy you along with his actions rather than his words.

While you were clinging onto his shirt the trash bin at the corner of your kitchen caught your eye and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you recognized the familiar and slightly wadded front page of a certain magazine…

#bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha fluff #mha fluff #━𝙱𝙽𝙷𝙰 #━𝙼𝙷𝙰

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maleyanderecafe · 3 years

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Hey there was a mobile game I wanted to recommend you check out! It’s called MazM: The Phantom of the Opera. Obviously the phantom himself is a well-known character and prime example of a yandere, and this version’s Raoul also takes on that trait a little (although it’s mostly because Christine is in a life or death situation and this he’s protective over her), he’s very sweet and doesn’t wait a moment to shower her with praise. Anyway it’s a pretty faithful retelling of the original book and was extra fun for me as a yandere-lover as you play as Christine caught in between the yandere and the actual boyfriend. I think it’s coming to the switch soon as well if you want to wait for that.

...Are you sure that Raoul just takes on this trait a bit...?

Joking aside, sorry it took me so long to answer this ask. I was originally going to watch a walkthrough on youtube, but then I realized that you said it would be on switch and since I just got my switch emulator, I ended up playing with a friend. I will say that there is a lot for me to say about this game, so this will be a long read.

First things first, I'll admit that I've never actually read or watched the Phantom of the Opera before, so I genuinely have no idea what happens in the story. This is where my friend who I was streaming for comes in because she has read the story so she helped fill me in on what happens (she's also making a yandere vn in the future which I will be spamming the heck out of because yandere vn). I think from what she told me, most of the story is relatively accurate, though some parts are changed for one reason or another (for instance, The Persian has a name in this game, but in the original, he doesn't), which has some pros and cons for some characters. Overall though, the story was pretty good for a first timer like me since it really let me experience what the Phantom of the Opera is truly about. I think the creator Mazm did a good job for historical detail, which makes sense considering their platform is about creating games that reinterpret famous stories (they've also done one for Wizard of Oz and Jekyll and Hyde which I sort of want to play), and there are a lot of different notes the player can collect in the game that give more historical insight into what is going on.

The story for the most part is pretty linear. There are some choices you can choose, but except for two, they don't really affect the story. For the most part, the game plays as a visual novel, though you do have to walk around to talk or interact with things to proceed the story. There are cats and notes that lie around the game too, with the notes giving more historical insight and the cats being used as hints in case you don't know where to go. The story is about a detective trying to find out the truth of the Phantom of the Opera at a request of a client whos husband was a victim of him, but most of the story is played through a flashback.

There are also small minigames as well that aren't too difficult, though I honestly felt like some of the minigames got to be tedious at times, specifically the one minigame where you have to press the order of the mirror combo which I found really annoying because besides the fact that I'm bad at those games, you had to do it every time you wanted to enter under the Opera house, which was just... ugh. The game itself seems much more optimized for mobile than it was for switch considering how slow the characters move (and its really slow walking to different places sometimes) as well as the fact that it takes forever to load between different scenes and there's no touch screen option for switch (that I know of). Plus the buttons for moving and pressing hints were annoying to deal with (though this could just be because I'm using an emulator). I also kept getting confused when I was playing, since sometimes I would walk around the entire opera house trying to figure out what to do next, only to learn that I was suppose to talk to someone that was literally five steps from where I spawned. The last thing I found annoying was the fact that there's no option to skip dialogue which is really annoying when I wanted to replay a specific part of the story to take some screenshots. If you play this game, it's probably better to play it on mobile than on switch.

In terms of artwork, Mazm's Phantom of the Opera is really gorgeous, from the overworld sprites to the dialogue sprites to the background and CGs. I love how cute the overworld sprites are (I think Jammes and Raoul's are my favorite, they're both so cute) and every background is really nice to walk through and gives a good atmosphere of what it's trying to show. The character sprites for each characters are nice and varied. I can always appreciate characters that have recognizable faces and shapes, since a lot of times I have face blindness when it comes to characters that look way too similar. The CGs of course are super well done and I love all of them. Overall, the artstyle of this game is very solid and I love the way it looks.

The main character of the story was Christine, who looks really good ( I really love her hair), was for the most part alright initially. While I found her to be a bit naive (because she believed that there was an actual Angel of Music when it was just... the Phantom), she was for the most part alright, and even ended up saving another character from the phantom. However, I found her actions annoying after she met the phantom, specifically the part where she agreed to stay underground with the phantom for two days and would be released as long as she didn't touch his mask, and guess what. Right as she was literally about to leave, SHE TAKES OFF HIS MASK, AND FOR WHAT? YOU WERE JUST ABOUT TO LEAVE?? The other thing that bothered me was the after being trapped with the Phantom for about a month, she is given free reign to go back above ground, under the conditions that she only goes to the opera house and at home. During this time, she's expected to break it off with Raoul, so she fakes a honeymoon with him before he leaves for the artic. However, during this time, she doesn't tell anyone, not even Raoul about what the Phantom is up to. She has an entire month, an ENTIRE MONTH to tell someone that the Phantom is likely to hurt people (as previously he had dropped a chandelier on top of the audience) and she just... didn't. Understandably, she might have been afraid that the Phantom might have heard her, but still, what is he going to do to the possible 100 people that Christine could have told about him. She could have saved people from death if something like that were to happen. Near the end, she does get proper character development and learns to choose things for her sake and not others, which was pretty nice and does stand up to the Phantom after all the trauma (and doesn't get stockholm sydrome, thank goodness), but I still think that a lot of her actions could have probably been written better to make her less naive (since apparently in the original she was about 16ish while in this remake she's about 20 so it's less awkward between her and the phantom).

Raoul is the next character I'll be talking about, because even though he is very adorable, he also has one braincell and talks about Christine way too much. My friend and I actually decided to make a counter on how many times Erik and Raoul say "Christine." Erik says Christines name 128 times and Raoul... says it 340 times. This isn't even counting his introduction and only starts up to when Erik is introduced as a formal character and also doesn't count any time he says it in the overworld. 340! My friend kept on joking around that because Raoul says Christine so much, his brother Phillipe became an alcoholic because he's so tired of Raoul talking about Christine. Raoul only really has like three things going for him: the fact that he was in the military, the fact that he's part of the Chagny household and Christine, and that's it. Throughout the story, his goals are pretty much always related to Christine, whether it be to give gifts to Christine, being worried about her or trying to protect Christine from the Phantom. When the chandelier drops on half the crowd during one of the performances, instead of being worried for them or trying to get out of the Opera House, he instead looks for Christine, who is on stage and quite literally in the safest location within the theater. I would consider him a redeemed/protective yandere though, considering his priority is always Christine (he even gives up his own family name to be with her) and he's always trying to protect her. There's a part of the story where Raoul becomes really unhinged when it comes to protecting Christine, lashing out her her friends and other members of the Opera house. He does some really dumb stuff because of the Phantom, specifically throwing away Christine's ring that she got from the Phantom (that she also literally told him before that as long as she's wearing the ring she wouldn't be harmed by the phantom and he just...?? okay??). When he's tortured in the mirror room, he hallucinates Christine blaming him for her capture, and he even cries while hallucinating that Christine friendzones him (which I though was actually really funny, even if it was a tad bit stupid). His redemption comes near the end of the story where he apologizes for being so emotional and realizing that he was a bit of an obsessive beast, and in one ending he lets Christine go to travel the world. To be honest, I don't know if Raoul would continue to be as protective and obsessed with her even after the Phantom's death, but I guess there's not really any way to know.

The Phantom, or Erik (which I know is his cannon name but it makes me laugh because he really doesn't look like an Erik) is the main villain of the story. Unfortunately, in this version, I don't think I can call him a yandere, for one simple character: Melek. Melek, as far as I know isn't in the original story, is a prisoner that Erik has after she refused to marry her. As a character, I do actually like Melek since she's the one of the more sensible characters in the story and she's the more rational one between her and Christine, but her role in the story basically deconfirms Erik as a yandere, at least in this version. For one, Melek is a blind maid of Erik that he did fall in love with and trap, similar to how Christine was, which kind of comes off as Erik being the kind of person who would trap any girl that he likes. Even if this is the case, I don't understand why Erik would keep her alive even after she fell for Christine. Supposedly the reason is that Erik wanted to make Christine feel despair and he did attempt to kill her, but Melek survives and he just... doesn't do anything with her. Honestly, if Melek were straight up not in the story, I would have put him as a yandere because pretty much all of his other actions point to a more possessive/worship type of yandere, but because of Melek it's just not possible in my eyes. Besides that Erik sort of reminds me of a chunni in this version (he's like this absolute darkness is my curse! Like people with 7th grade syndrom seem to have), it was kind of hard for me to take him seriously in certain times. He is very intimidating when he threatens Christine, but his overdramatic nature (which I know is something he's always known for, just this version is uh...) really makes him seem like a child. Erik is for sure suppose to be more antagonistic in this version, considering the addition of Melek and his general actions of possession towards Christine and his disdain for Raoul, but near the end we do see more of his story and we see just how devastating his life is from the moment of birth. I did feel really bad for him when Hatim/The Persian keeps on mentioning the prince he used to work with because its really obvious that he still has trauma from it (and he keeps begging him to not talk about his past and the Persian just... keeps traumatizing him I guess) and the fact that he was treated so badly because of his appearance, but this doesn't excuse his actions in the story. Christine does try to sympathize with him using her own tragic backstory, which Erik kind of pushes away (like bro, we're not trying to see whose parents are worse, she's just trying to sympathize with you, dang) as not being tragic. I think that Mazm did present him pretty well in this story, not showing just his antagonistic side but also his more tragic side. Sadly, like I said, I can't consider him a yandere because of the addition of Melek, at least not in this version.

In terms of other characters, I really like the trio of Meg Giry, Sorelli and Jammes- the friends of Christine. From what I can tell, they're all a bit more aged up in this version, with Sorelli being the oldest and Jammes being the youngest and I feel like they gave more character to them than in the original version. Sorelli is the head of the dancers and the dating partner of Phillip de Chagny, Raoul's older brother and she's the mature and strong willed one of the group, wielding a blade that she uses to protect her friends. I like the fact that they made her a bit more protective and in one of the overworld sprites its mentioned via rumor that Phillip fell in love with her after he saw Sorelli swing her dagger, which I thought was pretty cute. At the end though, after Phillips death, she realizes that she was struggling too hard to climb up the social ladder and decides to forge her own path. In the beginning she attempts to protect her and her friends from the Phantom, declaring that she'll stab him if she sees him. Next is Meg Giry, and from what my friend told me, she was very young in the original books and kind of scardy cat. In this version, she's a bit older but maintains the scardy cat position, and is very terrified of the Phantom. She does gain more character development during the story, standing up to her mother and the managers and overall being a more assertive and confident person, which I thought was a nice touch. Last but certainly not least is my best girl Jammes. In the original story, she barely makes an appearance, but in Mazm they made her quite literally the best character. For one, the canonical reason why there are so many cats hanging out in the opera house is that Jammes keeps on feeding them and letting them in and she has named all of them after the Opera House staff. Jammes loves to spin and has a cute animation and while she can be loud and a bit strange sometimes, she can be smart and assertive when she needs to. Jammes always pushes the other three into being better and protects them when needed (for instance, when Phillip lashes out at Sorelli, she steps in and demands that he apologize for his actions) and can be really smart at times (she's the only character that attempts to at least cover her mouth when the Phantom's fragrance, a hallucinogenic gas, starts to fill up the box seat, despite others who have been in there not even trying) and is the one who stands up for Christine's abuse as well as for the dancers at the opera house being treated unfairly by the manager as she organizes a strike against them. She also becomes part of the women's suffrage after the events of the story. I could go on and on about Jammes, but instead I'll leave a cute picture of her at the end of this entire analysis. Besides those three, I did like Carlotta, the original singing lead of the opera house. Originally, she became an antagonist towards Christine after she became the lead singer, however, she did apologize to her afterwards and befriended her once more before traveling the world. I love her interactions with Raoul because she basically said that Raoul only has Christine and military training and when he gets angry and lashes out, Carlotta glares and him, causing him to cower (this actually does happen multiple times), and I just found that really, really funny. Mifoid, though useless in the story is actually pretty cute as well, I love his bouncing animation. The last character I'll talk about is Phillip because he became meme material for me and my friend considering he probably is so tired of Raoul talking about Christine (we joked that the reason he was sent to military was so that he didn't have to hear her name again) and while he is mostly a decent but strict character in the story, his last appearance really makes him out as a jerk. I did think it was kind of weird that Phillip was so willing to let Raoul go to the Artic mission considering nobody that has gone there has ever returned, and he was rather elitest towards him, not letting him marry Christine because she's of lower

class but during his last chapter before he dies, he goes on a frenzy after he and Raoul have a fight, revealing to Sorelli that he only dated her for fun and not to actually settle down with her, which is just horrible. It's a bit sad though that Raoul only saw him as someone who tried to get rid of him considering that Phillip did raise Raoul and that his last actions were an attempt to save Phillip from the phantom, and yet Raoul barely has a reaction after seeing his body and doesn't even go to his funeral. It's really sad that Raoul didn't even really cry after seeing Phillip's body, considering that he was basically his father figure.

Overall, it's a good game to play and a good retelling of the Phantom of the Opera. I wouldn't consider the Phantom to be a yandere in this game, but I do think that Raoul is one. Thank you for this recommendation!

#asks #male yandere #yandere boy #yandere #recommendation

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

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Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 23

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

It doesn’t feel real until she sees the flutter on the ultrasound, the grey and white pixels flashing erratically confirming a healthy ten-week pregnancy. The doctor gives them a due date of September 17th, and she explains to Mulder repeatedly that the due date is only an estimate, that the baby will most likely arrive sometime in the two weeks before or after that day. Nonetheless, he prints little numbers in the corner of each date on the calendar, counting down.

She is lucky to experience very little nausea, but the time saved clinging to the toilet is instead allocated to bursting into tears at every tiny inconvenience. Mulder comforts her with a confused expression when she cries because she can’t find a Tupperware lid that fits, or her latte has too much foam, or she realizes she can no longer see her toes. She cries because she’s crying, because she feels out of touch with her own body and thrown off by her own emotions. They marvel at the growth of her belly as well as her breasts, which are even more sensitive than they were before. Her libido kicks into overdrive at the same time that she becomes incredibly self conscious about her protruding belly, her fuller face, her swelling feet. This leads to more tears as she grapples with both wanting desperately to be touched and not wanting him to look at her.

He tells her each day how beautiful she is, her hair growing longer and thicker, her skin glowing, her rounding belly housing the perfect little life that they created together. When he’s home, he rubs her feet every night, fetches her countless glasses of water and then helps tow her out of the bed so she can pee ten times in the night. When he’s on the road with Monica, he calls three times a day, asks Missy and her mother to go by and check on her, calls in dinner to be delivered so she doesn't have to cook. As her due date nears, he stops going on out-of-town cases, needing to be close enough to be by her side immediately when she goes into labor. He will not risk missing the birth of his child.

The apartment becomes cramped with a bassinet, changing table, pack n play, and various other baby gadgets. They consider moving, but the idea is too overwhelming for Scully so they decide to stay put until the baby becomes mobile and they really need more space. Mulder breaks the lease on his apartment and moves his fish tank into the living room, putting the rest of his furniture in storage until they buy a house. Priscilla breaks in all the baby gear, sleeping in the car seat and jumping into the swing, covering the tiny onesies with her black fur and making Scully cry yet again. Mulder refuses to let her scoop the litter box, even though she insists it’s safe if she wears gloves and washes her hands afterward. Other tasks she’s forbidden to complete include cleaning the toilet, carrying in the groceries and hauling laundry to the washing machine. When he’s on the road, she misses him as much as she is relieved to be able to be independent, not much caring for being treated as though she’s made of glass.

For the majority of her pregnancy, Scully insists that she doesn’t want to know the sex of the baby, that she wants to be surprised. Mulder respects her decision, even though he would personally like to know, and they create two lists of potential baby names, Scully crossing off “Lisa Marie'' each time Mulder tries to add it to the “girl” column. When she reaches 39 weeks, her pelvis widening as the baby drops into the birth canal, she is so miserable that she has a change of heart, needing to feel connected to this thing that is destroying her body and stealing her sleep. They call the doctor together on a Thursday afternoon as Scully sits on the couch in tears, having woken that morning to find angry red stretch marks marring her previously lily-white belly. When Mulder relays the doctor’s message that the baby is a girl, she sobs harder, and he’s not sure whether it’s because she’s happy or disappointed.

She wakes him at 3:00 am on September 21st, the irregular Braxton-Hicks contractions she’s been feeling for weeks having taken up a predictable cadence, now ten minutes apart almost on the dot. He starts rushing around, scrambling for her hospital bag and his shoes, and now it is her turn to provide comfort, to let him know there’s plenty of time. She doesn’t want to go to the hospital until the contractions are five minutes apart, and so they wait. The progression to nine minutes, then eight, then seven is alarmingly fast, and by the time she agrees that they should head to the hospital she’s starting to feel pressure low in her pelvis. Mulder drives too fast, the streets thankfully still quiet in the early morning, and she is wheeled into labor and delivery with not enough time for an epidural, much to her lament.

Molly Katherine Mulder has blue eyes and a dark shock of nearly-black hair. She barely cries at her entrance to the world, instead searching the room with a curious gaze, squeezing her daddy’s finger with an impressively strong grip and latching like a pro. They are able to go home the following day, Scully wincing as she moves gingerly from the bed to the couch, rinsing her tender stitches with a bottle of warm water and bleeding through entire packages of overnight maxi pads in a day.

Mulder takes off work for two weeks and they spend blissful days curled up in bed with the baby nestled between them as Priscilla curiously sniffs around her, licking her hair with a rough tongue and making them laugh. Each time Scully wakes at night to nurse, Mulder insists she go back to sleep while he changes the baby and walks her around the quiet apartment until she is asleep, singing softly and lulling them both.

When Mulder returns to work, Scully insists that he get a full night's sleep and let her wake up with Molly, reasoning that she can take naps during the day. She does not, of course, take naps during the day. Instead she tries to keep the apartment clean, the clothes washed, the diapers taken out to the dumpster, the litter box scooped. She does too much, and he sees it each day as she grows more and more weary, more and more defeated, the bags under her eyes deepening in color and her mouth rarely hosting a smile. He begs her to let him do more, to ask less of herself, but she is stubborn and strong-willed, the very things he loves about her now keeping her from properly taking care of herself.

They struggle through sleep-deprived arguments over who left the breast milk out on the counter all night, why it matters if he changes the baby on the floor instead of the changing table, why Scully doesn’t want to supplement with formula so he can take some of the night feedings. Her doctor releases her as medically clear to have sex after six weeks and she cries as she tells him that she doesn’t feel ready, that she can’t imagine anything worse than sex right now, and he holds her as he tells her that he doesn’t care, that she should take as much time as she needs, that he can wait.

They struggle, and they thrive. Moments of absolute unadulterated joy are punctuated by intense despair and overwhelm. The gain of a family against the loss of a life where you could pick up and go, stay out until 2:00 am and make love in the middle of the day. They are happy, and they are stressed, and they face it together.

On a Saturday in December, Mulder wakes early and takes care of every conceivable task in the house; the laundry, the dishes, cleaning the bathroom, scooping the litter, buying the groceries. He checks every item off Scully’s to-do list and then takes Molly for a long drive, leaving Scully alone with nothing to do in hopes that she will rest for once. When they return from their excursion, he creeps into the quiet apartment with a sleeping baby in his arms and sets her in the bassinet by the couch. At first he thinks maybe Scully has gone out, but he finds her in bed asleep with soaking wet hair, Priscilla curled up behind her knees. He watches her for a bit, affection clutching at his chest, then changes into sweats and kicks Priscilla out so he can snuggle up behind Scully. It feels so infrequent that they just lay like this anymore; one of them is always about to get up with the baby, about to get ready for work, or doesn’t want to be touched after a tiny person has clung to them all day. He pulls in a deep breath, smelling her lavender bubble bath and feeling the rise and fall of her ribs against his chest. He doesn’t want to disturb her, but he can’t resist pressing a tiny kiss to the side of her neck.

“Mmmm,” she hums in response, twisting her body around so they are face to face.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispers.

“It’s okay. Where’s Molly?”

“She’s asleep in the living room.”

She sighs and snuggles closer to him, pressing her forehead into his chest and pushing one of her legs between his.

“This feels nice,” she says contentedly, and he brushes his hand softly up and down her back.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Tired. Frumpy. Like I haven’t put on real clothes or a stitch of makeup in three months,” she laments.

“Well, I’ll give you tired,” he says softly, “but I can’t agree on frumpy. I think you look very beautiful.”

She scoffs against his chest.

“You don’t have to placate me, Mulder. I know I’m a mess.”

“Maybe so, but you’re my mess,” he retorts, pushing his fingers into her hair to gently scratch her scalp.

She tilts her head up to look at him, appraising his face with a skeptical eye.

“Is this what you thought it was going to be like?” she asks, her tone open and vulnerable.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly, “I guess I didn’t really know what to expect.”

She sighs. “I just wish I knew when I might start to feel like myself again,” she says sadly. “I can’t help but feel like you’re not getting what you signed up for.”

“What do you mean?” he asks with a concerned frown.

He sees her eyes growing glassy, dampening with impending tears. “I mean the woman you asked out in the autopsy bay isn’t the one you’re with now,” she whispers, swallowing against the lump in her throat.

“That’s not even a little bit true,” he implores, cradling the back of her head with his hand. “You are everything you were then, and more. I’m amazed by you every day.”

She closes her eyes, a tear rolling across the bridge of her nose. He feels his chest ache; the need to make her understand is overwhelming.

“Hey,�� he says, pulling the blankets back, “come here.”

He pulls her into a sitting position and slides off the bed, towing her along with him to sit on the edge of the mattress. He kneels on the floor between her knees, his hands on her hips.

“If you think for one second that I want to be with anyone but you, you’re fucking insane. I don’t care if you wear giant milk-stained T-shirts and have spit up in your hair for the rest of our lives, Scully. You’re it for me, okay?”

She pulls in a shuddering breath and wipes at her eyes, but won’t look at him.

“Stay here,” he commands, and disappears into the bathroom for a moment. When he comes back, he returns to his post kneeling at her feet.

“We knew this was going to be hard,” he says tenderly, holding one of her hands in his. “You said it yourself before Molly was born, that it would be the hardest time in our lives, and that we’d be at our worst. And I’m telling you that if this is your worst, sign me up, okay? It hasn’t changed how I feel about you.”

He holds up his other hand, a diamond ring perched between his thumb and forefinger.

“If you’re not ready to say yes yet, that’s okay, but I need you to know that I still want to marry you, Scully. I’ll wait forever if that’s what you need, but there hasn’t been a single day since I asked that I haven’t still meant it.”

Her tears have stopped, though her eyes are still wet and the tip of her nose is red. She looks from him to the ring and back, her eyebrows stitched in contemplation.

“I didn’t hear you ask me a question,” she says quietly, and he picks up on the slightest lilt of playfulness in her voice, which makes him break out into a smile.

“Dana Katherine Scully, love of my life, mother of my child, will you marry me?”

She smiles then, and he thinks his heart may burst right out of his chest.

“Yes, I’ll marry you,” she answers, and he takes her left hand, slipping the ring on her finger.

She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him repeatedly, soft pecks devolving into lingering smooches as he shifts up slightly, pushing her back gently to recline on the bed. He moves over her, kissing along her jaw and down her neck, not going any further, not wanting to rush her.

She brings her hands to his hips, letting the tips of her fingers slip under the waist of his sweatpants, and his cock stirs. It’s been so, so, long, and he wants her desperately, but not until she’s ready. She pushes her hand down the front of his pants, gripping him as he grows hard under her touch. It’s overwhelming in the best way; he feels like a teenager being touched for the first time.

“I wanna have sex,” she breathes into his ear, the words rushing out quickly as though she’s afraid she might change her mind if she waits too long to say them.

He pulls back to look at her. “Are you sure?” he asks, and she nods, bringing her palm to his cheek before glancing at the ring on her finger and smiling.

They move slowly, though still with a sense of urgency that a baby sleeping in the next room brings. He pushes her shirt up and she lets him take it off, then slips the yoga pants off her hips, leaving her in basic black cotton briefs. He sees the hesitancy in her eyes as he looks at her body, now softer than it was before Molly, curvy in different places, purple streaks running from below her belly button to disappear under her panties.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing her chest, her breasts, her belly, running his tongue along the grooves of her stretch marks. He loops his thumbs under the waist of her panties and tugs them down slowly, quickly undressing before he rejoins her in the bed.

“Tell me if anything hurts, okay?” he asks with a serious expression, and she nods, letting her legs fall open as he settles between them. He lines himself up with her entrance and pushes in achingly slowly, watching her face raptly. Her mouth opens slightly, and she takes in a sharp little breath. He’s about to ask her if it hurts when she closes her eyes and her mouth drops open further as she breathes out “oh,” in a way that he knows means pleasure, not pain. When he’s all the way in, their hip bones pressed together tightly, he stills and kisses her for a while, feeling like he could melt into a puddle for how good everything feels. His heart, his mind, his body, he is all wrapped up in her and it’s exactly where he wants to be.

He begins to move, and she responds with an arch of her back and a little gasp, her hands clutching at his shoulders. Little by little, he increases his pace until he knows he won’t last much longer.

“What do you need?” he asks, and she brings her hand to her breast.

He dips his head, flicking at the hardened bud of her nipple, and feels her clench around him. He plays with the level of pressure, licking and sucking, pleasantly surprised that she is enjoying it even as her breasts have taken on a purely functional role these last few months.

She pulls in a huge breath, arching her back and pressing her head into the mattress and he groans as he feels her tighten around him. She emits a single piercing cry when she comes, stifling it with an arm slung across her mouth. He pours into her, burying his face in her neck, clinging to her like a life raft. She is, in fact, all he needs to survive.

Resting half his weight on the mattress beside her, he stays inside as they both come down, panting and smiling, brushing hands over each other’s skin, reconnecting.

“Ah!” Molly yells from the living room, and Mulder laughs.

“You’re being summoned,” Scully says with a tender smile.

He withdraws from her, handing her his T-shirt to clean up while he slips on his sweatpants and retrieves Molly from her bassinet.

“Guess what, Goose?” he says, using his special nickname for her, “Mommy and Daddy are getting married.”

“AH!” She squeals, flapping her arms.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files fanfic #alternate universe

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keilemlucent · 4 years

Text

lavender latte: vi

(T (for now!))

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

chapter 1 || chapter 2 || chapter 3 || chapter 4 || chapter 5 || chapter 7 ||

masterlist

word count: 6.8k

finally. god.

warnings: none really! reader’s foot booted, but that’s about it.

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well. here we are. thank u to everyone for reading this sweet, sweet story. we’re not through it yet, but i’m happy to offer a meal with this chapter. enjoy lovies. beta’ed by the lovely love @keiqos.

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You had several problems after returning to your apartment from the hospital. One of your coworkers was nice enough to drive you and your things back, but quickly the niceties stopped and your vague hell began.

Exclusively being on crutches sucked. Navigating your apartment and trying to live somewhat normally was a massive pain. Even just showering was a task that sapped most of your energy. Standing one-legged and balancing made your body ache with a deep soreness, especially the first few days you returned.

This was not even to mention the unpleasant dreams you were having.

‘Unpleasant’ & ‘dreams’ were a nice way of putting it.

You could recall that during your first night in the hospital, one of your doctors told you of the possibility of experiencing a few post-traumatic symptoms. Considering how out of it you were at the time, it was unsurprising how you brushed it off.

The reality was much harder to ignore.

...

Cars revving.

Shouting.

Shattering—

Your eyes flashed open, chest heaving and brow covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

Fuck that.

It was the same dream, an obvious recreation of the stimuli of the event. Though it was scattered in your memory, the dreams made it horribly vivid and vibrant despite lacking detail. The sounds and smells of that day clung to you as you shook your head, forcing yourself into wakefulness.

Your comforter was thrown from your body, and you shivered as cold air rushed over you. As jarred as you were, you still swung your legs off the bed, readjusting your boot and your aching leg, half-heartedly glaring at your crutches.

Your apartment wasn’t terribly set up to get around with your limited mobility, but your difficulty functioning didn’t help your overall mental state. Everything was just harder with the boot on, and you did your best to work with it.

Being locked up in your apartment added to the hellishness of it. You were so used to the stimuli and social environment of the teashop, it felt like a cold water shock when you were confined to your home entirely alone except for your cats.

You could, of course, try and venture out into the world. But, it was still winter and the ice-covered sidewalks didn’t seem like the best place to try and crutch around.

Within the first day or two, you resigned yourself to your three-week fate of being holed up.

You had a laundry list of things you could do. Shows and movies to watch, places in your house to clean, your cats to pet, but—

You still had far too much time on your hands.

A lot of your newfound time in the first few days was spent on your back, leg propped up, and draped in ice bags, musing over Hawks.

Hawks.

Holy fuck.

You couldn’t avoid it, couldn’t stop it. Just thinking about him made every part of you swirl and thrum like you were listening to some sort of contently-chorded song and you were more than happy to play it on repeat until your ears bled. Maybe that feeling towards Hawks had always been there (it had), but now you accepted it and stopped holding yourself back as much.

You never thought the idea of someone squeezing your shoulder would send you into literal fits of giggles and butterflies, but boy, did it. Not to mention all of the careful touches and gentle words you two had shared in the aftermath of the attack, though the memories were hazy. What you did remember and cherish was the warmth of him, quirk activated or not. Each time you recalled it, your gut fluttered and your hands twitched.

Your ceiling was the most interesting place to look in your apartment. The plain texture was the perfect canvas to allow your memories of the sweet interactions the two of you had shared to play like comforting reruns. The commercial breaks of these daydreams were the texts exchanged between you and Hawks.

Keigo couldn’t stop thinking about you either.

It wasn’t as distracting as it once was, as he had been more liberal with letting himself text you. The high number of messages between the two of you was maybe ridiculous, but he was a fast texter and you seemed to have plenty of jokes and banter for him to share in.

As good as the texting was, it was also nice to check-in on you and your recovery. You seemed more annoyed than anything else, but Keigo wasn’t so much of an idiot as to think you weren’t in any pain or struggling at all. Though you didn’t explicitly tell him or show him, he was familiar with the pains of healing and could infer some things about your state.

Keigo tried to brighten your day as he could. ‘Hawks’ still had plenty of hero work to do, especially with the information extracted from the recently detained syndicate members. Despite this, he took as much time as he could to stop and send you little snippets and messages which hopefully would help you smile a little.

It did, of course. Just talking to Hawks did.

You had moments of awareness a few times a day where you had to remind yourself that, yes, (Y/N), you were just casual friends and deeply enamored with the number two hero and that sentiment was at least partially returned.

You had a lot of time to wonder to what extent the feelings were returned. They obviously weren’t entirely one-sided, right?

It was completely possible that they were, but you did your best to shake off the thought.

It was more likely that notorious bachelor and flirt, pro hero Hawks, just wanted a fuck with some feelings. To fuck with some feelings, right?

Though, he did say that he cares about you.

But, you definitely can care about someone you only want to fuck.

You wished you had some sort of definitive answer. The murkiness of it all just made the sweetness of the past and the texts of the present seem a bit sour.

Confessing to Hawks was daunting and terrifying. Not to mention, it felt a bit juvenile, all of it. People weren’t supposed to get melty crushes like this past high school, right? Especially not ones this deep on someone who couldn’t possibly feel the same as you, right?

During one of these moments of uncomfortable clarity, your phone beeped as you rested on the couch. Despite not even seeing the message, you knew it would be Hawks.

You grabbed your phone, clicking open the newest message.

[birdboy]: hey hey angel

[birdboy]: look at this fucker i found

The image attached was a photo of Hawks standing next to one of his own billboards, advertising some sort of sports drink. The photo had obviously been taken with a timer, the angle of the photo tilted as Hawks and the billboard were quite small in the frame. It added to the charm of the photo, the way Hawks was holding a feather blade to the throat of his own advert. You could even tell through the pixels he was wearing a wide smile as he did so, wings spread behind him

You snorted.

You and Hawks are just friends, you reminded yourself.

[you]: looks like a punk bitch 2 me dude

[you]: kinda uncanny resemblance tho

[birdboy]: i agree

[birdboy]: he’s hot tho

You rolled your eyes, still smiling as you readjusted on the couch. You weren’t disagreeing, not at all.

[you]: not wrong

[you]: still, punk bitch

[birdboy]: :^(

[birdboy]: feelings = hurt

[birdboy]: please tell me the photo is funny

[birdboy]: it took like five tries

[you]: very funny, im gonna save it and sell when im short on cash

[birdboy]: my publicist will blacklist u

[you]: i’d like to see them try

[birdboy]: is that a challenge angel????

[you]: a promise

There was a break in the messages, though Hawks appeared to be typing.

[birdboy]: unrelated but

[birdboy]: how are you doing?

You paused, taking stock of your disheveled, sleepy self. You were only a few days out of the hospital and you definitely could’ve been worse off.

[you]: im okay!!!

[you]: sore and tired honestly

[birdboy]: :^(

[birdboy]: i'm glad to hear its not worse at least

[birdboy]: ill send u lots more embarrassing photos

[birdboy]: a million angel

[you]: my hero <3

It all was surreal and mentally impossible to avoid.

You really, really liked Hawks and had for a long while.

...

Keigo spent most of the rest of the day busy with patrols and work for the Commission, much to his chagrin. He hardly got a chance to text you. It reminded him of his reality as a pro, his fast-paced nature and how he truly couldn’t slow down, not at that point anyway. He had a brand and habitual way of being that was standard. Even for you, he wasn’t sure if he could slow down, even if he wanted to or needed to.

The idea scared him, pieces of his reality.

But, at the same time, Keigo hadn’t ever felt like this before. The weird, but incredibly alluring and comfortable heat in his chest made him feel like he’d do anything for you. Fuck, he’d fly to the stars and move them if he could, if that’s what it took.

Maybe he even wanted to.

Keigo couldn’t become a different person, for anyone, that’s not how things worked. But if getting closer to you meant... adjusting, he could do that. Easily. He was adaptable as all hell and he’d be glad to use it for something that made him feel good instead of hollow.

Keigo busily flew the day away. As the afternoon turned to night, the sky going pink and purple with dusk, he settled on top of a taller office building. It looked down on a street market, its smells and sounds wafting up to him on his perch.

It gave him an idea.

A good one.

You were inspecting your fridge with a grimace. Balancing on your crutches and being counter-weighed by the boot on your foot made your angry stance a whole lot less intimidating, but it was the sentiment that counted.

Several days post-hospital had done a number on your food supply. The fridge was empty except for a few nearly expired items and condiments. The dry shelves weren’t looking much better.

The shrill sound of your ringtone from the couch made your jump, nearly falling. You teetered back over to it, eye-widening at the caller ID.

[birdboy] calling...

Hawks had never called you before.

You quickly picked up the call, “...Hello?”

“Hey, angel!” Hawks was chipper on the other line. “What’re you up to?”

“Currently?” You hummed, turning forlornly to your kitchen. “Thinking about how I either need to order groceries or order dinner before committing to my couch for the rest of the night. Why? You don’t usually call.”

“I don’t,” Hawks’s smile was apparent in his voice, even through the receiver. “But, I had an idea.”

“Shoot.”

“I might just be near a super good takeout spot. How hard would it be for me to convince you to let me drop some food by your place? My treat.”

You didn’t reply for a second.

Stunned.

“Are you sure?”

“More than, dove. I’m off the rest of the night, anyways.”

Oh.

That gave you an idea—

An idea that would surely push the envelope of your feelings.

Let it.

“Okay, I’m in. One condition.” You bit your lip, willing your stomach to seize fluttering.

“You name it. This place is really good and—”

“I have been going a little stir crazy, and,” You cut him off, squeezing your eyes shut in anticipation, “how hard would it be to convince you to come over and stay awhile?”

Hawks was silent.

Your stomach dropped.

“Wait, I-I mean—” You stuttered, trying to gather yourself, but this time Hawks cut you off.

“Like, to hang out?” Hawks sounded shocked on the other line.

“Yes.”

You kept your breathing even and prayed it didn’t read over the call.

“God, dove. I’d love to. I can be over in like ten—”

“Wait,” You fisted the fabric of your sweats. “Can I have a little more time? For myself and my apartment.”

Hawks chuckled on the other end of the line, “Sure, angel. Thirty sound better?”

You let out a sigh of relief, falling on to the back of your couch, “Sounds perfect.”

Keigo decided to tease a bit, his heart pounding in his chest almost painfully. He knew from day one that you were bold, but this was a treat. He had to spare back, just a little.

“Though, dove, I’m sure you look more than perfect yourself. You always do.” He didn’t wait for your response, either out of fear of what you’d say or being a bit smug, he wasn’t sure.

Keigo hung up the call, burying his face in his gloves to try and stifle the blush on his cheeks, though it hardly helped.

It didn’t have to.

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Thirty minutes later and you were mostly sorted.

You managed to throw yourself into the shower, tossing on something half-way decent, but still comfortable. Had to keep it casual.

Crutching around your apartment, you picked up what clutter you could, mind spinning. Hawks coming over to your fucking apartment filled you with elated, and yet terrifying, anxiety. A few times while cleaning, you legitimately paused to muffle quiet screams in your hand at the prospect.

You felt like you were going to burst.

Keigo did too, notably.

He took the time to fly all the way back to his apartment, take the world’s fastest shower, and throw on some clothes other than his costume. Going back to get food, his hands shook as he handed the bills to the starry-eyed vendor who he’d just written an autograph for.

You’d sent a quick text just before he’d left with a description of your balcony, so neither of you would have to figure out how to let him in through the roof.

As he flew to your place, Keigo felt like he was going to implode.

He didn’t ‘hang out’ with people. Nope, far too busy for anything like that. He was a compulsory workaholic, it was part of his mental brand of being (or, mental ‘branding’, maybe). The closest he got to casual time with folks was the preamble before a hookup or the time he had spent at the tea shop with you. Actually going to spend time with someone, casually, and it was you? It was all new and terrifying.

But, above all? Exciting.

The whole situation opened many doors, all of which Keigo pictured and picked apart as he neared your apartment. There were so many potential situations to appraise and plan for, he felt overwhelmed by it all.

The opportunity to spend some... time with you outside of the tea shop was a necessity, right? Keigo’s original idea had been to drop off some food and banter for a while, but the idea of spending one of his precious nights off with you was so much better than he could’ve expected.

Not to mention the warm bit of validation sparked by the fact that you asked him to come over, you wanted him around —

It felt nice.

So nice.

You paused, hearing telltale scuffing of someone on your balcony.

Oh my god.

He’s here.

Hawks is here.

You gulped, shaking your head.

Don’t you dare chicken out now. Commit, dammit. You’re just... hanging out. With your friend.

Yeah.

A knock on the glass pulled you to the door of your balcony, hobbling to slide it open on your crutches.

Hawks was happy to push the door the rest of the way open, stepping inside with a bag of takeout slung on his arm.

Your mouth parched, seeing him once again in civilian clothing. Was it... normal to get turned on by the fact that he looked normal?

As Hawks stepped into your humble apartment, wings tucked tightly to his back, you drank him in, hair ruffled with his clear visor placed on top of his head to push back the windswept front pieces. He wore a white sweater and black trousers complete with heavy black boots that were quickly untied and left by the door.

“You’re staring, you know,” Hawks interrupted your thoughts as you straightened up on your crutches.

Recover.

“Can’t prove that,” You tutted, crutching away from the door. “Also, welcome. Watch out for my cats, they might try to get a mouthful of your feathers.”

“Duly noted,” Hawks clicked his tongue, standing up and following you as you meander to the kitchen.

Keigo had to admit that your apartment was relatively... cute. He was used to his own, seldom-used digs. He had a big, uncomfortably nice penthouse with too many disused rooms and too much open space. Fixtures and furniture that were too expensive, probably, but it had been far easier to hire some big-name interior designer and not bother with dealing with it himself. Keigo had trouble keeping many ‘personal’ possessions, anyways. His training with the Commission made him almost revile the thought of keeping unnecessary, material objects, sans a few.

Your home was the exact opposite.

Maybe it was that he didn’t know how to have a personal touch that it made your cozy little apartment feel so full of them.

Little photos and artworks on walls or in frames caught Keigo’s eyes as he followed you to the kitchen. He took note of several blankets on the couch, catching sight of the plushie he’d given you at the hospital. Even the lighting of the apartment was personal, diffuse. With how easily overstimulated you became, it made sense that you’d keep your apartment so ambiently dim.

“So, first off, thank you for coming by and delivering dinner. I am eternally grateful,” You bowed dramatically, leaning to flail out a crutch at the motion. “Second, as payment, I’ll make you a drink. Maybe not with my quirk, but I have some of my old tea blends here.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Keigo shrugged, setting the takeout down on the counter while his ever-present grin nearly hurt his face from how relentless it was. “And tea? Show me what you’ve got. Or, should I trust you to pick one out for me?”

You hummed, clicking your tongue before moving across the kitchen to a different set of cabinets, “I think I’ve actually got a good one for you. It’s one of my favorites.”

“Lay on the details, angel,” Keigo hummed, leaning against the lip of the counter.

You did have the perfect blend in mind. It wasn’t too old, hardly stale. It would pair as well as a nice tea could with fried takeout, judging by the smells wafting from the bag on the counter.

“It’s one I made for a brunch we catered a few months back. It’s just a white tea raspberry blend, but it’s not delicate. It should stand up to any sort of food you’ve brought. Thank you, by the way.”

Setting your crutches down, you started to push yourself up onto the counter without thinking much of it, booted-foot going limp off the edge.

“Of course, anytime— woah, angel,” His voice choked as you wavered on the edge of the counter, off-balance.

There was a short flap of wings and rush of air as you tried to rebalance, cursing the deadweight of your leg.

If Hawks hadn’t been directly behind you, you probably would’ve eaten shit.

You turned yourself as far as you could, cheeks going hot.

Hawks’ face was just inches away from yours. That was even to mention the hands hovering around your waist, chest brushing up against your back.

“S-sorry,” Did he just fucking stutter? “You looked like you were about to eat shit there.”

The words hardly reach you, you were too busy actively telling yourself not to stare at his pretty, plump lips because that is not something friends do. Not the can of worms you needed to open, right?

“I-,” You turned away from him, stretching up to the tea tin that had been out of your reach. “To think you’ve saved me from falling while reaching for loose leaf tea, twice.”

“All in a day's work,” His hands twitched around your sides but hardly shifted until you began to descend from the countertop. In fact, Hawks hardly moved away at all until you were situated back on your crutches.

You pretended not to notice the flush on his cheeks.

Maybe, it was a bit too close. Definitely too close, and bad circumstances, but god, you wanted more and more of him.

You swallowed your desires down, cracking a smile.

Be normal.

Be cool!

You shook the tin, leaves and dried fruit rattling inside, “So, cream or sugar?”

||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

The two of you ended up on the couch, picking through the several boxes of takeout that Hawks had brought. Most of dinner was spent bantering back and forth about one of Hawks’ newest modeling contracts and if it was ‘ethical’ for him to wear his own feathers for the sake of ‘fashion’?

“So, off-topic from insulting my employment ethics, ” Hawks spoke while munching on a piece of chicken. “You surviving?”

“Barely,” You laughed, setting down your utensils with a huff. “I forget how isolation makes you go a little crazy. I’m running out of dumb shit to watch and even dumber shit to send you.”

Hawks snorted, setting down his own box, having had his fill, “I know you are more than adept at combing the internet for more good shit to send me.”

“I mean, maybe, but you keep sending me juicy photos of you being a dumbass. They’re hard to show up, you know?” You side-eyed him at the birdish tilt of his head.

“You don’t need to show me up, angel,” Hawks reminded you, some feathers packing up what was left of the food. “Though, it’s fun. You’re fun.”

You internally winced at the sentiment but forced the smile on your face not to waver.

It was a needed reminder.

This close to Hawks, you could fucking smell him. Maybe it was a little creepy, but you remembered it so well, after the villain attack. The scent of some sort of spicy cologne and old sweat, but it was hardly unpleasant. No, it was intoxicating. It made you feel almost fuzzy, as it wafted around like some reminder that Hawks and you were so close.

You thanked the stars that the apartment lacked the stimuli to make your quirk activate on its own.

Your couch wasn’t very large, and it seemed even smaller with how Hawks had laid his wings over it. They were propped up over the back, outstretched just the smallest bit to relieve some pressure. All the same, the massive feathers made you feel minuscule.

Even the way he was sitting was intoxicating and a bit gut-wrenching. It was casual, the way he leaned back against the far cushions, legs somewhat spread with an ankle over the opposite knee. The pose oozed a weird, untouchable confidence that you hadn’t seen in Hawks in months, maybe ever. At least, not directed at you.

Despite the warm nature of his words, he seemed guarded.

It made your throat dry.

Keigo was quite on edge. He hadn’t meant to get so close in the kitchen, really, he hadn’t. But, seeing you dangling off the edge of the counter like that, even if it was harmless and mundane, made his entire body and mind react before he could think.

But, you weren’t in any danger. Even if you had been, Keigo would’ve been there to catch you.

He’d put himself out of it, overthinking the whole thing. You were fine. Safe.

The other part of his mind spun with how he wanted to be so much closer.

Feeling the warmth of your body, the lines of your waist, the thrum of your heart and breath so fucking close—

It was a lot.

But, he was well-trained and not going to choke.

He’d shoved himself to the opposite side of the couch to you, keeping his boundaries up, strong as steel and hard as carbon.

Of course, Keigo knew the feelings were mutual. That didn’t mean that none of this was terrifying in the same way that it was exhilarating.

As much as he wanted to be closer (so much closer), Keigo remained careful. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was ruin something before it had even truly happened.

You sat back against the couch, repositioning your injured leg on the coffee table, “So, thoughts.”

“On?”

You didn’t look at Keigo as you replied, rather glared at your TV, “What to watch?”

“Oh,” You could hear the smile in his voice. “We’re watching something?”

“You tell me. I imagine you don’t get lots of time to do this sort of thing, do you?”

Hawks didn’t reply for a moment, sitting deeper into the couch, “Not really.”

“Then indulge, tailfeathers,” You tossed the remote in his lap. “Anything, go for it. Go nuts.”

Hawks nearly put on watching a reality cooking show, before you said that that was off-limits, per an odd conversation from way back when where he had admitted to be hot for Gordon Ramsey. He had been a little too vague as to whether or not he would pop a boner from Gordon’s filmed degradations. And truthfully, if anything was gonna give Hawks a hard-on tonight, you were determined for it not to be competitive cooking TV. Maybe, just maybe, you’d rather it be you.

...

Eventually, he settled on some psychological thriller you’d never heard of.

Keigo hadn’t either.

He was glad that you couldn’t hear his heart in the same way he heard your’s pounding.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched you crutch around, turning the already dim lights lower.

Calm the down, Hawks.

Calm the fuck down.

He’d never even done this before. Keigo wasn’t sure how to handle the situation, even if it was as simple as watching a film.

It would’ve been simpler if the tension in the air was thick and foggy, clouding over his consciousness as he tried to focus on anything other than your nearness and how much he wanted to drag you into his lap.

…

His feathers fluttered as you plopped back onto the couch, pulling a blanket over your lap and offering one to him.

He took it, settling it over his lap as the movie went on.

You weren’t an idiot. You could feel the blood rushing in your hot ears as you fisted the blanket over your legs.

Your mind spoke a lot louder than you wanted it to:

Just fucking do it.

Do what exactly?

The paramount thought that was causing anxiety to twirl in your gut.

Maybe, you could just tell him how you felt.

Maybe just hold his hand.

Maybe get fucking rejected because he’s out of your league and out of bounds.

Maybe even kiss him—

You were torturing yourself, the movie just background noise to your internal dilemma.

You’d asked him to your apartment and Hawks had bought you fucking dinner. That wasn’t a lot, sure, maybe, but there were also the months of lead-up.

There were all of the cold mornings and cheeky grins you gave each other in the waking coffee shop. There were the fuzzy jokes, the lingering glances, and the tight feeling you got in your chest whenever he graced you with mere eye contact.

It felt like you were already in too deep to not be honest about how you felt towards him. Fuck, you’d been in too deep for months. Every time you made him a damn drink, you wanted to just drink him in. You were all fluttering hearts and sweet smiles for him in a way that you couldn’t suppress, only squash in moments of such intense anxiety like this—

“Hey, dove?” It was Hawks, shocking you from your turmoil with a soft voice. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah, I’m good.” Your reply was curt and clipped.

Make a decision now.

Pull the bandage off, (Y/N).

It’ll just be worse, the longer you wait.

Maybe Hawks did just want to fuck with some cute feelings, the seemingly longing looks be damned. Yeah, you liked him way more than for just a fuck, that was obvious and unavoidable. Besides, it’d be better to know than to not know, right?

“You sure? If the movie’s too much, we can turn it off,” Hawks sounded genuinely concerned from the other side of the couch.

...

You committed, taking a deep breath and turning to Hawks.

“It’s not that,” You looked at the couch between the two of you, tracing the seam of the cushion. “The movie’s fine.”

“Then, you’re not feeling great for another reason?” Keigo asked, feeling each of your breaths and heartbeats like bass drums in his ears. He hides the shaking of his hands by crossing them over his chest. “You can talk to me, (Y/N).”

“Can I?” You asked, shaking your head and laughing at yourself. “Hawks, I need to do something really fucking stupid.”

Holy fuck.

Are they—

“What’s that?”

His voice was smaller than he wanted it to be.

“Fuck, Hawks,” You finally forced yourself to look at him, taking in his guarded posture and pained expression.

Your heart sank.

“I just need to be honest with you.”

Hawks’s brow soured, lips twitching, “Go for it, dove.”

You laughed, maybe trying to soothe yourself, “It’s probably is just, so fucking stupid, all things considered.”

You ran a hand through your hair, biting your lip between sentences and willing yourself to just get it out—

“Hawks, I like you. A lot.”

He still didn’t say anything and you could feel shards of your heart drive into your lungs.

You forced yourself to look up at him, smiling with the slight release of tension in your sternum, however painful.

“I know, we’re just friends, right? I’m just the barista and you’re my special, pro hero regular. I know I’m overstepping right now, but it feels unfair for me to not be honest with you.”

Keigo already knew this, right? He knew how you felt, fuck, he’d felt how you felt. He just wasn’t prepared for the exploding and thrumming in his chest when you told him with your sweet lips and kind words.

Why did it feel so different when you were smiling at him like you were in pain and telling him so fucking honestly with your words?

It was the thing about you that he admired the most, that candor in your tone and the grin in your cheeks as you spoke so.

But, your smile was falling, leaving watery-looking eyes.

“Hawks, I like you. Way too much for friends, and I needed to say something.”

Keigo’s mouth was dry.

For the first time in so fucking long, he was genuinely speechless.

He couldn’t recall a time in his life anyone had spoken so earnestly to him, just you. Just you, you, you— casually, over and over again, you talked to him like he was something real and something to be cared for. It was subtle, but it was one of the many things that made him want you closer.

Yet, despite all his bundled up desires, he was lost for words.

“I’m sorry—”

He stopped you, “(Y/N), please don’t apologize.”

“But—”

“(Y/N).”

Hawks’ voice was sharp. It made the expression on your face rapidly fall.

He looked at you with rapt attention, arms uncrossing from his chest.

He turned to you on the couch, feathers fluffed up and twitching.

Your nose stung as Hawks, all pretty golds and ambers, shook out an exhale and balled up the blanket in his lap.

“Hawks—”

“Why would you need to be sorry?”

Hawks looked at you with wide eyes, brow creased. His shoulders were... shaking?

Your head spun, leg aching, “... What do you mean?”

Hawks finally met your gaze, giving you the sweetest, saddest smile you’d ever seen, “Dove, you’re acting like there’s no way I could feel the same way.”

Every cell in your body stuttered.

“You’ve done it since we’ve met.”

Hawks scooted closer on the cushions of the couch.

“You’ve always acted like there’s just no way I could like you, give a shit about you—”

He moved a bit closer.

You couldn’t make yourself move.

“You want to know the truth?”

You creaked out a nod.

Keigo couldn’t help the way he went to cup your cheeks in his hands, thumbs rubbing along the apples of your cheeks. You lean into his touch, just like at the hospital, despite the blend of absolute fear and confusion in your expression.

“How could I not care about you, dove?” And it finally came out. “I care about so much— dove, I don’t know what to fucking say.”

That made you speechless, lips parting just the slightest bit as Hawks continued, losing composure with his morphing expressions.

He wet his lips, swallowing, “Dove, I’ve never—any of this. I-I don’t know what o-or how to say any of what I want to right now.”

You speak before thinking.

“Show me, if you don’t know how to say it.”

The idea seemed so novel as Keigo ran a thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it from between your teeth. He met your gaze with the gooiest, sweetest look you’d ever seen in your life, “You want me to?”

“Please.”

It was all the two of you had wanted for a while now, right?

“If I kiss you, I’m not ever gonna be able to make this go away, am I?” Keigo was speaking to himself, just above his breath. But, you were more than close enough to hear him.

“Hey, Hawks? I don’t know if we can make ‘this’ try to go away.” You grabbed one of the hands cupping your face, pulling it away, only to shakily press in your lips to the bones on the back of it. “I don’t want to anymore.”

“Y-you gotta stop being so sweet, (Y/N)—”

Neither of you could wait a moment longer.

Your arms wrapped around Keigo’s shoulder. In the same motions, he pulled you closer by your waist, dragging you finally closer to him.

He held your jaw like you were the most precious thing in the world. Because, truthfully, you were to him. The sentiment was shared Deeply.

Your lips pressed together and the long-held tensions in your chests mutually shattered, dissolving in the honeyed touch of each other’s genuine attention.

You angled your head perfectly, Keigo’s hand guiding you as his mouth worked against yours. It wasn’t a particularly steamy sort of affair, but by god, it wasn’t in any way chaste. Not with the tight grip and thumbing on your ribs. Not with the way your hands tangled in the soft (holy fuck, soft) hair at the base of Keigo’s skull.

You both tasted each other's sweetness, craving more of it after denying yourselves of it for so long. It was white-hot, exploding behind your eyes, even as your quirk remained dormant. Keigo was honey and cream and smoked spices all dancing across your palette.

To Keigo? You were sweet, cool water over a hot burn. You were the heat of a hearth rolling over him on the coldest of days. He swears that in the first moments he finally got to be close to you, and over and over again— he finally understood how your quirk worked.

There was no way that finally feeling you, feeling you as he felt you, could be described with just five senses.

You pulled away first, gasping for breath and arching your back into him. You lingered as close as you could, pressing your forehead to Keigo’s while your breaths mingled. You didn’t dare stray far.

“Was that enough to show you?” Keigo asked, breathless. He kept a wide hand against your back, urging you with a bit of soft pressure to put your weight into it. You complied, settling in his hold as Keigo stroked at your hot cheeks.

You nodded, beaming up at him with that sunny smile of yours. It never failed to make heat burn through Keigo and god, did it feel good to finally let it unabashed.

“I take it, you like me too, huh,” You smiled, looking a bit embarrassed.

“Very much, very much,” Keigo repeated, pressing a kiss to your nose (he’d always wanted to do that). “So much, (Y/N). I apologize for not saying anything sooner. This is just...”

“New to you, right?” You finished his sentence, thumbing along the back of his neck in a way that made Keigo just melt. “It’s been a while for me too, if it makes you feel better.”

“It does, dove. Thank you.” Keigo let out a deep breath, shaking his head against yours. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.”

“It’s alright, same goes for me,” As much as you needed to adjust due to the angle of your recovering leg, you couldn’t make yourself do it. You were so wonderfully close to Hawks, you never wanted to move.

“If we’re being honest, then I need to be honest with you,” Hawks met your eyes, his expression going a little dimmer.

You braced for the worst.

He picked up your shift easily, finally able to express how quickly he caught your mood after so long of being attuned to it.

“Oh wait, no, (Y/N), nothing terrible, I promise,” Hawks rubbed at your sides. “It’s about the miel.”

“The... miel?” You cocked your head to the side, confused, recalling the drink somewhat hazily. “The drink I made you on the day of... the attack?”

Hawks gave you a tense smile, “That one, yeah. Remember how you said it was just based on your ambient feelings?”

“Uh-huh.” You let confusion lace your tone until it slowly started to dawn on you.

“You made the drink, ambiently, around me—”

Your eyes widened, mouth falling open, “Oh my god, Hawks, did my feelings for you get in the drink?”

Hawks graced you with a sweet, sympathetic smile, fingers tucking at the hair around your ear, “They did, dove. I’ve kind of known for a few days, it just hasn’t been the time or setting to say something. I apologize.”

“N-no, it’s okay, I totally understand,” You sighed into his grip. “I really thought it might be something worse.”

“Consider your worries assuaged,” Hawks hummed, eyes drifting to your boot. He deadpanned suddenly. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad does your leg hurt right now?”

Fairly bad, considering. You were half on your knees, the booted leg twisted awkwardly while still raised to the coffee table. This wasn’t even to mention the arch of your back so you could be all that closer to Hawks.

The pain of the position was easy to forget; you were still shaking from kissing Hawks just once.

“Uh, maybe like a seven, once I can feel anything other than how good you felt just now,” you hummed, grinning up at Hawks as his face went bright red.

The infinite pleasure you received, making him blush so sweetly.

He shook it off, squeezing your sides, “Cute. Very cute. Mutually returned sentiment, but let’s adjust.”

You nodded but didn’t have much time to react as a bundle of Hawks’s feathers lifted you every which way, albeit incredibly gently. All said and done, he was fully upright against the back of the couch. With the support of a feather or two, Hawks’s arms tugged you into his lap. Your legs stretched to the side, the booted one immediately propped up by a feather-supplied pillow.

You both settled yourselves, blushing and leaning on each other now that you finally were allowing yourself to.

Keigo fully wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tight against him. One of his wings even shifted to drape over one his shoulder, sheltering the two of you in a canopy of a crimson. Keigo let his hands wander over your hips, not seeking anything more than blessed attention and heat. You gave it all to him, tucking your face into his collarbone, drowning in the scent that made you feel at home.

Keigo pressed his lips to your crown and legitimately shuddering.

He spoke to himself, so faintly and quietly, you hardly caught it, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

There was melancholy in his voice, but you were quick to strip it away.

You brushed your lips along his jaw, savoring the way he held you tighter, “I have too. Can we do this more?”

“Anytime, dove. Anytime.”

“Right now sound good?”

You withdrew to beam up at him as you were so good at doing, only to be smothered by craving-satiating kisses anywhere Keigo could get to. The sweet, high laughter that he dripped onto you made your heart burst all over again.

And you finally, finally fell into the other sweetly, warmly, and properly.

||||||||||||||||||

taglist: @thepandapopo @hawksexual @sinclairsamess @darcia22 @inhalingsoysauce @yee-fxcking-haw

#salem writes #lavender latte #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #hawks x you #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo x you #takami keigo x y/n #mha reader insert #hawks reader insert #hawks #takami keigo #hawks mha #hawks bnha #im soft for this one yall #so soft

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rantingwriter · 3 years

Text

Accidentally in Love (Hawks x Civilian Reader) Finale

Trigger warning: strong language, long hospital stay, slight angst

A couple of months passed since that magical night out with Hawks. You noticed his visits after that became more and more infrequent. You weren’t too worried at first, he is a pro-hero he is naturally busy. Now...you just weren’t sure what to think. “Yo, [y/n], how long are you trying to make your scarf?” Hime catches your attention and you quickly realize you made a 7 foot long plaid scarf.

“Oh, shit...uh…” you start to work in reverse to shorten the scarf back up to a more reasonable length. Today was knitting day, but you managed to convince Yumi (the recreation therapist) to let you use your quirk instead of the knitting needles. “Sorry, I was lost in thought.”

“No worries, but what’s got you spacing out like this?” Ayame asks, only making a potholder with her limited (but slowly improving) range of motion.

“It’s-” you quickly check your surroundings before quietly continuing. “Hawks, he hasn’t been by in weeks…”

“He is a top ten pro hero, from my understanding that means they are notoriously busy.” Ayame tries to reassure you, but you have been telling yourself that too much to believe it. “Do you have his number? Maybe you can call him.”

“I do have his office number, but wouldn’t that be weird? What would I even say?”

“Maybe, how’s it going? Just checking in? Hadn’t heard and wanted to see if you are alright?” Hime ticks off options on her fingers, she is doing some embroidery which is a bit easier to complete one handed. “Even just a text would probably help put your mind at ease.”

You nod and finish your scarf up, folding it up onto the table for Yumi to come see. “Maybe after the group,” you continue to converse with the girls and Yumi praises your work when she gets to you. After the group wraps up, you go down to the hospital payphone, your cell is dead and you don’t have enough patience to wait for it to charge right now. You call the number Hawks gave to you. “Come on…” You hold your breath as it rings, your heart sinking when you get an answering machine. At the tone you do your damnedest to stop your voice from quivering with emotion. “Hey! It’s [y/n], I haven’t seen you around and I figured I would check in on you. I know you are probably busy, but...well...I guess I miss you.” You feel a lump form in your throat. “Just give me a call back or, uh, or a text, my number is…” you recite your cell phone number and tell him to have a good day before hanging up. You lean your forehead against the slightly warmed phone as it hangs from the receiver. Your heart is aching, “damn it, why am I so upset about this?” When your landlord kicked you out 4 weeks ago, you felt fine. You had a plan and your friends helped you out. You haven’t been making much progress since that first step, you weren’t upset, frustrated? A tad, but not the same level you got to in your first month here. Hawks ghosting you...just hit differently. You wheel your way back to your room, hoping he was waiting there, but alas it was empty. You set your scarf on the little table and get back in the familiar bed. You go against your better judgment and turn on the news, the silence in the room is just too much right now.

“In other news, pro-hero Hawks has been reported missing after taking on the mission to hunt down the dangerous villain: Live Wire.” The news anchor continues to speak, but you can’t hear it. You drop the remote to the floor with a loud clatter.

Fumi suddenly bursts into your room, “[Y/n]!” Your head slowly turns to meet her gaze, her voice barely registering. “Shit, I was afraid you would see that…” She quickly turns the TV off. “Word traveled fast, Mayu is a wreck and I heard you tried to call him.”

You swallow dryly, “he can’t be missing, he just can’t be. Maybe he is laying low? Or the media is trying to throw them off the trail?” You were trying to think of any possible alternative, but Fumiko somberly shakes her head no. “He can’t be gone!”

“[Y/n], I need you to calm down, take a deep breath for me.” She tries to reach out, but you swat her away.

“There is no way! I refuse to believe it! I-I can’t believe it!!” Your voice is steadily rising in pitch, your breathing is growing too erratic for your own good. Your friend quickly calls for help and your room fills with nurses and a doctor. They have to administer a mild sedative to bring you down from your near hysteria levels of panic. It ends up knocking you out for a couple of hours, your friend returning to work with a note left on your table with the promise to return that night. When you come to, you feel numb, someone you have grown to hold quite dear is missing and you are powerless to do anything. A nurse comes in to check your vitals when your phone buzzes with a message from an unknown number. You wait for the nurse to finish up before checking to see if it was an automated message or scammer preying on the weak again. Shock overcomes you as you read the messages.

Unknown: “Hey, it’s Hawks.”

Unknown: “Don’t respond, I’m not keeping this phone or this number.”

Unknown: “I hope you didn’t see that news report, but if you have, I’m okay.”

Unknown: “This mission is going to be a long one so I won’t be able to stop by. I’m sorry if I caused you any concern, but I was told not to tell anyone about this mission.”

Unknown: “I’m going to trust you to keep this between us ;)”

Unknown: “I promise to make up for my absence…”

Unknown: “When I return, I want to take you out on a date.”

Unknown: “And yes I mean a date date, not some half assed play date or anything that’ll leave you wondering where things are going.”

Tears pepper your phone screen, you felt so much relief and joy at just a few messages. Even if this was a sick, elaborate joke meant to make you think it was him, you held onto hope it was the genuine article.

Unknown: “Just know that I haven’t forgotten about you. I miss you...and I know it is incredibly selfish of me to ask…”

Unknown: “Please, wait for me.”

You nod as if he can see you, “I’ll wait, please just be safe.” You sob, your fingers clutching the scarf you made for him.

Unknown: “I have to go now. I want you to focus on your recovery, don’t worry about me. I’ll see you as soon as I can.”

The last one was sent a few minutes ago, you bury your face in your knees and let it all out. Fumiko comes by like she promised and you have feign ignorance about his whereabouts. You do your best to follow his last request and focus on your recovery. He was working hard, so you would too.

Two more months go by, no news of his whereabouts and no more secret messages either. Mayu hasn’t been herself since the announced disappearance, but she was powering through for her patients sake. You on the other hand have made great progress, you are finally walking. Actually walking! Granted you still need support to maintain balance, but you are able to move your legs again. You still utilize your wheelchair to get around the hospital, but you are doing your best not to rely on it too much now that you are regaining mobility.

After a couple of weeks of steady improvement, they are talking about a possible discharge date. You aren’t sure how to feel, you are ready to be back out and about and get back to your life. Yet at the same time there is still so much to take care of that you can’t help but feel overwhelmed. Rika tries to help by apartment hunting in your stead, now that a release date is on the calendar, but you still need to ensure the job offer is still in place with Best Jeanist.

Before you know it, you are walking without support and you are preparing to leave the hospital that has become your home for nearly a year. Hime and Ayame are so excited for you, both are still stuck for a little while longer, but you promised them to visit as often as possible. You thank all of your therapists, the ones who have been there the whole journey and the ones who only made occasional appearances. Your bags are packed, your prosthetic is in tip top shape, and your transport is all ready to go. Tomorrow, you are going home. You feel more melancholy than joy about the occasion. Part of you hoped Hawks would be back by now to see you off or at least hear some type of news on his whereabouts. You turn on the news right before bed, a new ritual just to see if there have been sightings or anything at this point. Expecting the same old news, you leave it on as background noise and busy yourself with something else.

Breaking news! Flashes across the screen and the news anchor fervently announces, “Hawks has finally returned after being off the grid for nearly 6 months. The villain known as Live Wire now confined to the maximum security prison of Tartarus!” You feel your heart swell, he is finally back! A loud ding of your phone alerts you to a new message.

New number: “Come to the roof.”

You quickly get in your wheelchair and wheel your way to the roof. You throw the door open and you feel your heart skip a beat. It’s him! It’s really him! He turns to face you as soon as he hears the metal door. His face is beaming, “Hey there kid.” The sound of his voice washes over you like a refreshing breeze on a hot day. “You look great, how are things going with treatment?”

You smile brightly, rising up from your wheelchair, you make it look like you have simply mastered standing. When you start running towards him, his face quickly morphs to one of shock. You leap at him, throwing your arms around his neck as he effortlessly catches you. You can hear the smile in his voice as he shouts out, “Holy shit!” He tightens his hold around you. “Holy shit!!” He lets go of you and pushes you back to look at you, his hands still firmly on your shoulders. “You are walking! You-you are running!!” He is a sputtering, excited mess.

“I actually leave tomorrow, I finally did it!” You cheer with him, lightly jumping as his wings puff up and expand outwards.

“I’m so proud of you! I wish I could’ve been here to see you,” his wings start to droop, but you quickly gather him back up and just embrace him for a minute.

“You are here now,” he returns the sentiment, burying his face into your shoulder. You both stay like that for a long time, relishing in the closeness and warmth. You finally break the silence, whispering in his ear. “So, still planning to take me out on a date?”

His breath tickles your skin as he chuckles, “of course,” he leans back his arms still firmly around you. “I wanted to talk to you before this mission, but...shit happens.” He starts to caress your cheek, halting his efforts to tug the glove off with his teeth. His warm hand has a much more welcoming feeling than the rough texture of the glove. “I really like you, more than I’ve ever liked anyone. I know we had a rocky start and things haven’t been the easiest since we met, but…” He hesitates, unsure how to continue when you throw the scarf you made him around the back of his neck and yank him close enough to press your lips to his. He jerks back initially, it takes him a few seconds to register what just happened. When the lightbulb in his brain lights up, he grabs the side of your face and crashes his lips into yours. You can’t help but laugh at his actions, wrapping your arms around his neck to solidify the connection. You are first to break it to catch your breath.

“I like you too, you goof.” You affectionately rub your nose against his and he rests his forehead against yours.

“I’m glad, I was more scared of this conversation than I was facing that villain.” You both laugh as you step back to properly wrap the scarf around him. “What’s this?”

“Something I made for you...think of it as a gift to cover the holidays I missed.” He smiles as he feels the material between his fingers.

“Thank you,” he takes your hands in his and lightly swings from side to side. When this all started, you couldn’t see a future, you felt lost, alone, and just empty. Now, you’ve made new friends, you felt like you’ve regained control of your life, and now you have a boyfriend; bonus points! The fear of leaving the hospital felt so small now, you were ready to get back to living.

#reader insert #hawks x reader #keigo x reader #keigo takami #pro hero hawks #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #slight angst #fluffy fluff #long shot #part 6 of 6 #tw: hospital

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hoe-doroki · 4 years

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stay

A response to this ask:

Reader having a silent mental breakdown and trying to hide it with Bakugo and iida!( bakugo’s fine if not iida)

warning: detailed descriptions of panic attack, self-loathing

pairing: Bakugou x gn!reader

genre: hurt/comfort

word count: 2.2k

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

It seemed stupid to have any kind of mental illness around someone like Bakugou.

Bakugou had experienced near death multiple times by his mid-twenties had had witnessed the worst of the world first hand. His teens had been littered with trauma and, as an adult, his work was constantly throwing him into circumstances where his body, his life was at risk. He did this day in and day out and it wasn’t even a question. He survived it all and, more than that, he let the world think it was easy.

Sometimes just getting out of bed wasn’t easy for you.

You felt like your body was rotting. You’d been on the couch all day and it smelled stale from the layers of lazy sweat you’d gotten on it. From the shower you hadn’t taken and the hair you hadn’t touched. But was it rot from the outside in—something a bit of soap and buffing could slough off—or was it the inside out? Harder to reach, harder to fix. As your brain sent your every thought clenching on your veins, your vital organs, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was both. Rotted from the inside out and the outside in.

You tensed when you heard the door to your shared apartment click, a key being shoved into the lock. Over the cold numbness that you’d felt all day, a shot of panic sprinted through your bloodstream as a million ways to lie popped into your head. You popped off the couch and tried to think of a way to look busy, so you ran to the kitchen and started boiling some water.

This was something Bakugou couldn’t see. The last thing you wanted, the last thing he needed was for you to be another person that he had to save. Another person to risk himself for.

You eyed Bakugou when he came in, shoulders drooped, gait wide. He looked tired, but otherwise normal. You usually tried not to worry yourself with the cuts and scrapes he often showed up with after work, and, so long as he was walking, he usually told you to calm down and that he was fine. You weren’t going to test it today.

“Hi, babe,” you said, putting strained effort into your pitch, your tone, your face. Maybe your voice was too high, maybe the smile spread a bit too wide, so you turned back to the water, watching it heat.

“Hi,” Bakugou greeted as he kicked off his sneakers, voice gravely as it usually was after a shift. He was in civilian clothes now, having showered and changed at the agency. A black tee and jeans that never fit quite right on his narrow hips and tall frame. “What’re you up to?”

“Oh, I, um…” You looked down at the water, still cool enough to stick a finger into. You’d done nothing all day, having skipped out on all your classes with half-assed emails sent to the teachers. The idea of going had been too much to take—for reasons you had no language for—so you’d wallowed on the couch as the hours of the day had bled away. So the question felt like an interrogation about to put a scalpel to your flaws. “I’m just heating some water for tea. Was gonna get started on dinner.”

“What were you gonna make?”

Bakugou was in the kitchen now, coming up behind you to press a kiss against your temple. Your heart rate increased but not in the good way. Not in the way that it should. Instead of flutters it was pounding, smacking against your ribs in a reminder that he was too close, you were too visible—you might explode and you would hurt him.

“I, um, I wasn’t sure,” you said, the answer sending shameful heat to your cheeks. And then you were slapped the other way by how stupid that was. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Okay,” Bakugou said, going to the fridge. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

Bakugou was always insistent on having a stocked fridge. With his job and you in your master’s program it was hard to find the time to grocery shop, much less eat consistent meals together, but those were the kinds of things that Bakugou prioritized. The things behind his sharp persona and shrinking legacy of reckless anger that made him a good boyfriend. An amazing partner and enviable roommate.

And what did you offer him? Emotional instability without just cause? A nascent—at best—career while he was climbing the pro hero charts every cycle?

Who were you kidding? You hadn’t even gone to class. You hadn’t done any of the work that you needed to do—the evening was a wash now, so you wouldn’t catch up. You were just wasting everyone’s time, like you always did.

“Hey, babe?”

By the tone of his voice, you realized that Bakugou had called you multiple times. Your eyes flicked toward him, but your head felt heavy to lift. “Hmm?” you asked, squeezing every last bit of breath into that hum.

“The water’s boiling.” Bakugou walked over to you, two mugs with teabags slumped at the bottom. He set them on the counter and put a hand on your shoulder, turning you a degree closer to him.

“Oh,” you intoned, pulling away and turning off the fire. Stupid. You were about to grab the pot when Bakugou dropped his hand down to your elbow, giving a firm squeeze.

“Are you okay?”

You ignored his gesture to stop and reached for the kettle, putting all of your effort into keeping your hands steady as you poured hissing water in one mug and then the other. Doing something was the only thing keeping you upright as your thoughts continued to swirl in your head poisoning each brain cell you had. You hadn’t done anything worth living for today. But goddamn it, if you couldn’t make these mugs of tea, then you should just walk out of the apartment and let Bakugou be better off without you.

“Woah, woah, what’s happening?”

Bakugou’s hand was on your chin as he pulled your face a little too roughly towards him. Or, rather, it wouldn’t have been rough, if you weren’t resisting it. But you didn’t want him to look you in the eye. See what a failure you were. Someone who couldn’t even overcome a bad emotional day to go to class while he’d been out saving lives—as usual. He took the pot from your white-knuckled grip and set it on the stove.

“Why are you crying?”

Were you? You hurriedly brushed a hand under your eyes and they came away slick, the water hot as the tea you were steeping.

“The…The steam…” you started, prepared to lie and lie and lie until there was nothing real left. The real stuff was too hard to hold. “I think…It just must have irri…tated my eyes.”

Your breathing was running away with you, chest heaving as you pulled away and faced the other direction. Your attempts were thin, too threadbare to hide behind. And your boyfriend wasn’t nearly stupid enough to be fooled, even by your best efforts.

“Babe, tell me what’s wrong,” Bakugou said forcibly, stepping around to face you again.

His eyes were searching for yours, but you held fisted hands to your cheek as you turned away from him. Now you could feel the tears streaming, and you couldn’t turn them off. But what was there to tell him? That you were just a big, stupid idiot who cried for no reason? That watching him become a better man only emphasized how totally shit you were? That when the two of you were on the street together, you knew that people wondered what a guy like him was doing with a person like you?

“I just want you to stop crying,” Bakugou said, and you could hear him getting desperate, only making you feel worse. You were biting your lips closed to keep the sobs from tearing out, but that only made embarrassing little huffs come out your nose, whimpers sneak past the back of your throat.

You couldn’t stop crying. How could you stop it when you didn’t understand what had started it?

“I’ll just,” you hiccupped, backing away from him. “Just give me…I’ll be fine, just give me a minute.”

“Fuck that,” Bakugou said, grabbing your wrist. “Do you want me to go because you want me to go, or because you think you deserve to be alone?”

The words felt like a trick, a riddle from some fairytale turned nightmare intended to make you fail either way. Telling him the truth would trap him in whatever trip wires had you tied in knots right now. But, at the same time, he was expecting the lie. He wasn’t letting you save him from this.

But why? He was always saving people. Why, for once, couldn’t you save him from you?

“Idiot,” Bakugou said, pulling you in to him. You cried harder, the weight of your failure dropping in your well and spilling more tears out of you. “Why would I leave you alone?”

A sob crashed out, breaking through haphazard letters of attempted defense. He needed to go; him seeing you like this only made it worse.

“It, um,” Bakugou’s voice was low, a register that was unfamiliar even to you, unsteady and unrehearsed. “It seems easier to be alone. I know it does. But…you’ve shown me that’s not true, so just. Let me show you the same, okay?”

You could feel how hard he was trying as he pressed you into his chest and you finally, finally let him. The sobbing made you weak in the knees, light in the head, but he held you. He held you up, held you close, and he wasn’t letting go.

Everyone always talked about how crying felt good. About it being a release that helped you process your pain. And maybe that was right when talking about grief or loss, but not this. These tears felt like nothing more than splashing in the masturbatory wallowing hole of your self pity. Embarrassing and stupid.

“Why?” you finally whispered when the sobs subsided a bit, letting you keep enough of the air in to at least say that.

For a moment, Bakugou didn’t say anything, and you wondered if you’d imagined the words. If you were imagining the whole thing and he really had left like you’d wanted. But then you heard breath catch in the back of his throat as he seemed to try and fail to find the words a couple of times.

“In another world,” he finally started. “I’d come home from a day of work fucking exhausted, slump on the couch, eat, and pack it in to go to bed before starting all over the next day. And I’d probably be fine with that. But I’d be a fucking idiot, because coming home to you makes it worth coming home.”

Your breathing was steadying as he talked and you could feel the tears cooling against your cheek, against his wet t-shirt.

“Even with you looking like a damn mess like this,” Bakugou said and you could hear the smile in his voice. His smile, which had grown less rare over time, was always so wide that it made his words sound different. Warmer. They managed to draw a haggard chuckle out of you. “I’m happier just to be around you than convincing myself that being lonely at the top is the best way.”

“I don’t want to drag you down from the top,” you said. “Your company shouldn’t be dead weight.”

“Dead weight?” Bakugou repeated, pulling back to look at you. “Dumbass.”

He pulled you in again, both of his arms around the back of your head so that you were nearly smothered in his chest.

“That’s the stupidest fucking shit I’ve ever heard. You’re fucking incredible, and if that’s why you’re crying today, then you and me have to do some talking.”

Another laugh managed to crawl its way out of you and Bakugou let you pull back to breathe again.

“Are you okay now?”

‘Okay’ felt like such a far ways away. But you were above water again. Somewhere next to okay, distance undetermined.

“I’m surviving,” you decided.

Bakugou looked at you, a couple different things flashing over his eyes, too quickly for you to identify. “Well, that’ll do for now, but we’re not settling for that. Just talk to me. I’m not the best at this, but…I want to be better at it.”

In that moment, you remembered that Bakugou wasn’t perfect either. That he constantly had voices in his head telling him that he wasn’t doing enough and, not only that, he had the public constantly critiquing his attitude, his skills, his work. That, to some degree, this was already something you were going through together.

“I think you’re better at it than you think.”

Bakugou smiled again, this one not so wide, but more private. “You too, he said. Whatever bullshit you’re telling yourself—you’re better than you think.”

He pulled you in close again, and this time you sunk into it, enjoying his warm muscles, the way that his hair was still a little damp from the shower. You weren’t sure if anything had changed—all your problems were still present as they’d ever been. But yet, there was one thing. Now, with Bakugou’s arms like a buttress to your shaky but standing foundation, you, paradoxically, hoped that he would stay and stay and stay.

#bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo #bakugou #bakugo #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #mha x reader #hurt/comfort

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thran-duils · 3 years

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Dubious Representation (P.2)

Title: Dubious Representation (Part Two) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark!Hank Palmer. Reader’s husband is facing jail time and although Hank Palmer entered the counsel for pro bono, he is still going to get a form of payment. Recently single, he’s been lonely and he’s looking for some comfort. Even if it means obtaining it from less than savory means. Words: 2,401 Warnings (for entire fic): Eventual smut, sexual coercion, infidelity, mention of past domestic violence, verbal abuse Author’s Note: Decided on three parts!

Part One || Part Three || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

You walked into the office, alone, his secretary, Sarah, closing the door behind you. You stood by the door, not taking a seat or moving towards the desk.

“You’re early,” Hank commented, typing on his laptop, eyes focused there.

“I always give myself at least a fifteen-minute buffer,” you told him. “Seemed to not be a problem since you called me in anyway.”

He smirked briefly as he continued to type.

After a minute, he clicked a couple times before shooting you a look, “You gonna just stand there? Sit down, please.” You started moving to the chair and he tsked, “No, come here.”

You slowly placed your purse on the chair and moved around his desk. He scooted his chair back and leaned back in the chair, tapping his lap. Keeping a neutral face, you turned around and sat lightly, not putting all your weight on him.

“You doing a wall sit? Your legs are gonna be shaking in no time. Come on, make yourself comfortable.” You closed your eyes, taking a small breath. You had signed up for this. You scooted to do what he asked, and he breathed deeply as you settled on his lap. “Nice yoga pants by the way.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not. It seems to be your only tone.”

Hank chuckled, “Oh, I’m more than serious. You can’t feel that?”

You could and that is why you wanted to move. He was already poking you in the ass through his slacks.

“Couldn’t miss it.”

“You trying to flatter me? Well, it’s working.” His hand came to rest on your thigh, and he tapped. “Read that document on the computer. It’s what you both told me last about the incident and I wanna know if it’s complete.”

Leaning forward you focused on the screen and tried to not think of Hank admiring the curve of your ass as you leaned forward. You would be lying to yourself if you said you were not getting hot with what was happening.

You scanned the document as quickly as you could and nodded. “It’s fine.”

“‘Fine’. That’s not encouraging.”

“That’s how I remember it.”

“That’s better, sweetheart.”

His hands were running up and down your thighs, fingers gentle and tantalizing. You looked over your shoulder at him and he grinned in response.

“I think we can sway the jury to see it as self-defense, get that charge dropped. You’ll need to look like a little doe though sitting behind him, garner sympathy with that pretty face of yours. Protective husband just making sure his wife didn’t get hurt or worse. Emphasize the worst, put that in their head what could have happened. It would justify him putting a knife up to the guy’s neck.”

You stood quickly, the memory flooding back.

Hank followed your movement and he said gently, “Hey.” He turned you to face him and he rubbed your arms. “Sorry, we’ll stop talking about it. It’s good. We got it. Let’s talk about you. How ravishing you look. You’re stunning, doll.”

He followed your gaze until he provoked you to meet his and he came in for a slow kiss. You were stiff at first, still thinking of that man that had tried to assault you and how enraged Rich had become. He had almost killed the guy if people had not pulled him off.

Hank’s lips were soft, but his kiss grew in intensity. He had you pressed up against the desk and encouraged you to sit up on it. Your legs wrapped around his, one hand holding the back of his neck. You arched your back, pressing towards him when he captured your mouth again. You melted into his embrace, there was nothing overtly malicious about it. It was comforting even.

He groaned lightly, his lips trailing across your jawline, tucking into the nape of your neck. His grips were tight and desperate as he searched your body, his mouth devouring at your shoulder. He was relishing in just having you to touch.

Hank pulled away flushed, his lips darker and swollen. He came back for another deep kiss, and you met him in his fervor. His tongue slipped past your lips, and you swirled yours, much to his pleasure.

“God, you’re divine,” he breathed pulling away again.

“Flattering me?” you asked, turning his own quip back on him. “It’s working.”

He simpered going for your top. He freed you from it and dipped down nipping at the tops of your breast poking out from your bra. His hands worked at the clasp at your back, and he tore the bra off as well.

You took the opportunity to stop him, his lustful gaze confused at your hand on his chest, holding him suddenly.

“You’re clean, right?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing. I came prepared.” He held up a condom he pulled out of his pocket.

“You didn’t answer me.”

“I’m clean. You?”

“Yes. I’m only sleeping with Rich.”

“That’s sweet of you,” Hank said curtly before he ordered, “Over the desk, legs spread. I wanna see you stretch around me.”

You felt heat in your core at his dominant behavior. Rich was only like that when he was drunk but he could also get violent when he was drunk. It was rarely worth the risk.

Slipping off the desk, you rubbed against him considering he barely gave you any room. Hooking your fingers into your waist band, you began to tug your pants down, but he said, “Ah, ah. I’ll do the honors. Just do what I told you.”

Your stomach met the desk and you spread your legs like he asked. His hands ran up your thighs and across your ass, admiring. He squeezed and prodded, one hand slipping between your legs to run up your pussy. You shivered, your hands clenching at the contact. He hummed in approval as he yanked your bottoms down past your knees, them falling the rest of the way to your ankles.

“Isn’t that a lovely sight?” He purred, squeezing at your ass. He let out a small growl, lying a light smack.

You heard him rip the condom open and you gripped at the desk, your breathing beginning to quicken with the anticipation.

“Nervous, doll?”

“No,” you breathed.

Hank praised, “Good girl.”

His cock pressed in, and you bit your lip, holding back a moan. His hand came to the back of your neck as he entered further, and you took him inch by inch.

Setting a steady pace, he started using you, muttering praise under his breath that you only caught snippets of. Your fingers dug into the desk as your hips began to rut as his speed increased. He groaned holding your hips tight, bruising thrusts against your ass as he pounded into you, the desk shaking. You feared Sarah would hear, even though she was further down the hall.

He brushed your core and you moaned sharply giving yourself away. He slowed, drawing himself out and in painfully slow, brushing your spot. You whimpered with each contact.

“There you are,” Hank said with a throaty chuckle.

He increased his thrusts again, making sure to pay special attention to you, panting as his cock drew in and out. You arched your back as you buried your head, pathetic moans falling from your lips. You were trying to bury them into his desk. One hand came to your back, pressing down as his breathing became erratic, forcing you flat again.

“Come on, doll. Come for me. Don’t worry about Sarah. She won’t bother us. Come all over my cock. Show your appreciation.”

You released with a sharp cry, your hands flat against the desk tautly. Hank groaned obscenely feeling your walls constrict and he increased his thrusts before he came in rasping breaths, shaking against you.

Hank pulled away, taking the condom off, and carelessly tossing it into the trash by his desk. He wiped at his face and said, “Shit. Made me work up a sweat. Can’t wait for the next round though.”

<><><>

Your phone buzzed beside you on the blanket, and you reached over blindly, grabbing it. Pushing your sunglasses up, you looked at the text. It was Hank.

Where are you?

Grant Park. Why?

Just a little bit hungry.

What was he getting at? Was he asking you out on a date…? You had not seen him since Friday; it was Wednesday now. Your stomach clenched at the thought. How would that look if anyone you knew happened to spot you? Still, you texted him back. Maybe he meant just a drive thru and not out in the open.

Do you want to get lunch?

I thought you’d never ask. Meet me at the south entrance. Grey Ferrari convertible.

He drove recklessly and the wind whipped around you. He stopped up against the curb at a sandwich place and ushered you inside to order a sandwich to go. Small blessings you would not have to sit at a table and wonder if someone you knew walked by and would tell Rich you were having lunch with another man, even if it was his attorney.

Hank took you to the marina and led you to a boat. His boat, he explained, and it was a sunny day so why not enjoy it on the deck? There was a table with a cushioned wrap around couch that you sat at.

You barely got two bites in before he was on you and you gasped quickly when he got to his knees, spreading your legs apart, shoving your dress up.

“Hank, what are you doing?” You hissed.

“I thought you offered me lunch,” he stated bluntly.

“We are in public—"

“Exciting isn’t it?”

“Can’t we go… inside? You said there was a bedroom downstairs—” you suddenly squeaked as he nipped at the inside of your thigh near your pussy.

His fingers slipped past your underwear, and you could not hide from him anymore. A wicked grin came across his face, his fingers sliding in your wetness.

“Looks like you are ready to serve,” he purred. His fingers left you and he brought them up to his lips, sucking on them. “Sweet. Just like I like it.”

You looked over your shoulder nervously trying to see if there were any people on the dock nearby or any of the boats. You did not spot anyone, but you did not have long to look because Hank drew you back by tugging roughly at your underwear, pulling them off and tossing them onto the table.

“Hook your leg over my shoulder,” he told you, his breath hot on your sex.

You obeyed and he was lecherous and starving in the way he dove in. Your hands braced against the cushions, gasping gently. He sucked and licked, devouring the taste of you.

“Good thing I’m not a huge fan of these slacks cause this deck hasn’t been cleaned in a week,” he joked, laying small kisses up and down your pussy before he was back at it, determined to make you come into his skilled mouth.

<><><>

Washing his hands at the sink, Hank saw Warren, the DA lawyer for Rich’s case, walk in. Warner actually smirked seeing Hank, stopping his stride to the urinal.

“Funny you took this case on…” Warner told him.

“Why’s that?” Hank asked, adjusting his tie in the mirror.

“I mean. I have never seen you take a case that can be so easily lost. You’re always just win… win… win.”

“Stop fucking around and just say what you wanna say,” Hank said impatiently, turning to face him.

Warner cocked his head and asked, “It is plain as day the way the jury is going to swing about this aggravated assault. Considering his past abuses against women.”

Hank did not let his face betray him, but he was tense at the information.

All he said was, “We will see about it.”

With that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the bathroom, immediately whipping out his phone.

<><><>

“Get your ass over here!” Hank snarled at Rich, pulling him away from a startled Y/N. He pulled him into an empty room and shoved him up against the wall roughly.

“What the fuck is your—" Rich started to snap.

“You didn’t tell me you were a fucking abuser!” Hank snarled at him, getting in his face. “You’ve been booked for domestic violence not once but twice! Was it her? Y/N?”

Rich only looked caught off guard for a moment.

“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t have anything to do with—" Rich tried to argue, ignoring his question.

And Hank almost lost it completely, the veins in his temples taut with his ferociousness.

“It has everything to do with this! My job is to cast doubt on the assault charges! Show it was self-defense! The DA is gonna have — actually I know they have this information about you slapping your wife around. How do you think that’s gonna bode on the jury’s opinion?”

He took a step back, running his hand over his hair, tugging. He swore under his breath, trying to calm himself down to no avail.

“You’re... you fucked me! Hung me out to dry!” Hank snarled. He got close again, hand on his hip, pointing a finger threateningly at Rich. “We are gonna lose this appeal! Because you weren’t honest! And you set us up for failure but being a raging piece of shit! You’re going to prison for a long time!” He scoffed. “You didn’t ‘wanna leave your wife’. Give me a fucking break! It sounds like that would be the best thing for her! And that’s what the jury is gonna think too!”

“It’s a litigation now and I would need to ask for permission to leave! And you know what? I actually like your wife. She’s not a dickhead like you. And I told her to her face I would do my best. So that’s what I’m gonna do.” He shook his head furiously again and snarled, “Rookie goddamn mistake on my part for trusting you were going to tell me everything straight up. Rookie mistake!”

He shot Rich a murderous look and said, “You better kiss your fucking wife goodbye, Richard. Because you are going to go away for probably at least a decade!”

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney

#hank palmer x reader #dark hank palmer #my shit #hank palmer

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chaoticallysapphic · 4 years

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Oh my heart part two

Summary: Lin never expected to have a soulmate, in a world where your mark appears whenever your soulmate is born she grew up completely blank. So when she’s thirty and it finally etches itself around her arm, she vows to never be with the one meant only for her.

A/N: one more part after this! Originally I just wanted it to be a two parter but it feels better this way.

Word count: 3k

Korra was becoming overbearing with her concern for you. Once you come back to air temple island she was there waiting to rant about a theory she had regarding Asami’s father. Usually, you’d reply and give good advice, unlike Pema’s, and would remind her not to get too worked up. But instead, as she opened her mouth to begin her rant, you broke out into tears. You wouldn’t tell her why, you were too embarrassed about the rejection of your soulmate to confess, even though it would help put Korra at ease to at least be in the know. She’d probably hunt Lin down and start some kind of fight with her regarding what happened.

“Korra,” you say one night when you both are lying in your separate beds in your shared room. “Have you met your soulmate?”

“I don’t know, I’ve kept it covered” she replies softly, she props herself up on her elbow, her eyes narrowing in the darkness, which you don’t notice. “Even with all these new people we’ve met?” your voice is soft, almost a bit hesitant of your inquiry.

“I like Mako, but I’ve seen his mark and it’s not what I said to him, I don’t want to confuse myself by looking” she sits up fully, “Is that why you're so sad, did you meet yours?”

“They didn’t want me..." You roll over so your back is facing your sister. Korra tries to pry it out of you, her voice laced with quiet rage but you simply squeeze your eyes shut and tune her out.

The next morning, Korra doesn't leave your side, she tries multiple times to get the truth out of you, but you always tell her to drop it and walk away. Later on, she reluctantly leaves to do some avatar stuff and asks Pema to keep you company. Pema was nice and in moments like these when you wished your mom was around to comfort you she was the second-best thing. Both of you are sitting at a table, teacups in your hands as the laughter of the kids can be heard from out the window.

"Korra told me what happened" Pema finally breaks the silence, it knocks you out of your thoughts and you harshly set the cup down onto the table, some of the contents of the cup sloshing out from the sides. "That was between us" you spit out.

"Tenzin tells me a lot of things and he's a man so I don't think he's pieced any of it together but… " Pema purses her lips and sets her teacup down onto the table, gently. "It's Lin, isn't it?" Sadness trickles down your throat and wraps itself around your insides, suddenly the door you'd hastily locked to keep yourself from crying in front of anyone busted open, and with it a tidal wave of tears. Pema pushes herself up off the floor and sits down next to you, albeit it takes her a few minutes to get there in her pregnant state. She wraps her arms around you and pulls you in tightly. You let your head fall onto her shoulder as you weep, your shoulders shake as the feeling of loneliness rocks you to your core.

“She doesn’t want me,” your voice is muffled but Pema hears you perfectly, she shushes you, running her hand soothingly through your hair. For what feels like hours all that can be heard is the sound of your strangled breaths and Pema’s humming. She slowly pulls away from you, panic rises in you and you try to stay within her arms but she places her hands on your shoulders to keep you from doing so.

Her hands reach up to your face, wiping away the tears that continue to seep out of your eyes. “I think part of Lin’s hesitation has to do with me,” she begins, your brows furrowed in confusion but before you can ask any questions, she continues “A long time ago Lin and Tenzin were together, he hadn’t met me yet but I knew he was it, even without having spoken to him. So when I saw him pulling away from her, I finally made my move and admitted I was his soulmate, the woman who could make him happy.”

Lin and Tenzin?... jealousy bubbles up in your throat which you try to push down, that was forever ago but maybe, she still loved him. Maybe that was part of the reason she rejected you. Pema pulled you out of your thoughts, brushing some of your hair out of your face in a motherly way. “I think because of that, she doesn’t think anyone else can love her.”

“But I’m her soulmate” you respond, sure you didn’t love her yet but you knew you felt something, ever since your discovery at the arena you’ve dreamt of being wrapped up in her arms once more, to be so close to her you can see every detail in her gorgeous green eyes. These dreams that fill you with pain and longing when you wake up, feel so unattainable now due to her swift rejection.

“Lin is a very confusing person, I think you need to try again and show her you won’t take no for an answer.” Pema’s words swirl around your mind as you try to think up a plan, her advice she gave to Korra a few weeks ago may have been bad but this seemed like it might work. If not then at least you wouldn’t stay awake at night wondering what if.

------

Before you can even formulate a plan on winning Lin over, Korra drags you off to help her with something important. She’s talking a mile a minute while Naga weaves past mobiles and dodges anyone who enters her path. The sun is high in the sky, marking that it's roughly midday and families are walking down the sidewalk together, couples are hand in hand, laughing about something the other has said. A part of you wonders what it might be like if Lin does decide to give the two of you a shot. She doesn’t seem like the kind of person to show affection in public, but what about behind closed doors?

Due to how fast Korra is talking along with you getting lost with the idea of Lin, you don’t pick up a single word she’s been saying, so when the polar dog finally stops in front of a warehouse that is in the middle of getting raided, you're a little confused, to say the least. You both climb down and walk towards the entrance where Tenzin and Lin are talking, that childish feeling of jealousy hits you at the sight of them talking and you mentally scold yourself for it. Tenzin is happily married to his soulmate, you remind yourself.

“Found anything?” Korra calls out, catching the attention of the two master benders. Lin’s eyes land on you and for a split second a look of sadness and pain crosses through her features but she quickly smothers it down with her usual scowl. It seems only you notice that momentary slip up as Tenzin begins telling you and Korra, even though honestly you aren’t listening, about whatever has gone on since she’s been gone.

Apparently, Korra believed Asami’s father to be an equalist which seemed a bit far fetched, he did sponsor her pro-bending team, right? But you trust your little sister and so when they find his factory to be empty, you place a gentle hand on her shoulder to offer her some form of comfort.

“It would appear Hiroshi is innocent” Lin finally speaks up with her arms crossed, since that first glance when you arrived, her eyes have been set on Korra. It stings to know she’s ignoring you but right now is about helping your sister and getting to the bottom of this. Asami waltzes up to the four of you with Mako by her side. “Okay, you did your search. Now you can all leave.” Korra ignores Asami and walks off to talk to Mako, leaving you alone.

“I can’t believe your in on this” Asami says to you, for the most part, you’ve stayed out of Korra’s drama, only lending her advice in private and helping her out when it came to equalists or Tarlock. You let out a sigh and look away from her gaze “she’s my sister Asami and she wouldn’t do something like this without reason.”

“Well he’s my father and he’s innocent, your sister is dragging him through the mud over a misinterpreted conversation” she fires back. Asami glares at you, taking a step closer to you to most likely try to get you all to back down. Before you can even think up a retort Lin, surprisingly, speaks up. “Ms. Sato, during these hard times we can’t leave any stone unturned, the warehouse is empty so you don’t need to worry about us anymore.”

Asami walks off with Mako’s arm slung around her shoulder and Korra all but storms back over with a defeated look on her face, you side glance Lin, who isn’t even paying you any attention anymore. She was probably just trying to keep a fight from breaking out, you tell yourself, she doesn’t care about you. But then Pema’s advice rings through your head, louder than the self-deprecating thoughts and you try to remind yourself that maybe Lin does care about you, hopefully.

After talking to the mystery man at midnight who ends up giving valuable information involving Hiroshi, a plan is set in place. You're all in a police force blimp, if not for the situation at hand you’d be marveling at the machinery with unbridled joy. You’ve never been on something like this before, sure the South Pole isn’t behind on the times but they don’t have any form of aircraft. “Raiding the Sato mansion is risky with Tarlock breathing down your neck. If we’re wrong-”

“I know. I can kiss my job goodbye. But protecting republic city is all I care about. We can’t let Amon get his hands on this new weapon” Lin says, effectively cutting Tenzin off. You stand a few paces behind them, fiddling with your hands as you eavesdrop on them. You want to get to know her, and Lin’s words offer you a piece of information regarding her personality and life without even meaning to. She’s a good person, she might have hurt you but she’s good and that warms your aching heart just a bit.

There are so many horror stories of people's soulmates being monsters, of being chained to someone who doesn’t treat them right that at least the universe decided to spare you on that front. You shake yourself of your thoughts, now is not the time to lose yourself over Lin, and soon enough you land in front of the Sato mansion, once inside Asami puts up quite a fight over her father's innocence which you don’t blame her for. If the roles were reversed you’d probably have already gotten physical with whoever tried to hurt your dad.

The workshop behind the house is small and empty, the policemen try to find any sort of nefarious plans hidden in drawers or boxes but once again come up empty-handed, the confusing part though is how Hiroshi is also nowhere to be found. There isn’t a connecting room where he may be and there aren't any windows he may have left from. “Chief, the estate has been secured, no one has left since we’ve arrived,” an officer tells Lin.

“Perhaps we just couldn’t see him leaving” she replies as she walks over to the center of the room, you step to the side as Korra had sort of stepped in front of you protectively when you entered the workshop, to see what she’s doing. What she does next you’ve heard of but never seen, many talk about the way Toph Beifong revolutionized earth bending, not only by learning to bend metal but also with her aseismic senses. She bends the metal off her foot and slams it down onto the ground. Lin closes her eyes and for a few seconds remains completely still.

“There’s a tunnel beneath the workshop running deep into the mountainside.” Your eyes widen at the discovery, maybe sometime in the future, if you and Lin do work it out you can gush about how much you admire her bending abilities, how truly powerful she is. Asami interrupts your daydream with her denial of such a thing, you do admire her loyalty to her father and his innocence and you honestly don’t want to see her reaction if he is an equalist.

Lin effortlessly bends a piece of metal from the floor and slams it into the wall, showcasing a staircase that leads down, just like she said. You grab onto Korra’s hand knowing she probably wants to race down immediately to find out what lurks below. “Maybe you don’t know everything about your father,” Korra says in an apologetic tone, looking over at Asami, “I’m sorry.”

Lin orders the officers to go down first and as you make your way to the stairs, Lin stops you. “Uh-uh, you four stay up here, officer so-” you scoff, going to push past her but she clamps a hand down onto your shoulder. “That includes you too.”

“I am not letting my little sister go down there without me, I can handle myself” You shrug Lins handoff and push past her to make your way down the stairs, her voice stops you as you take your first step down. “I’m the chief of police and I am order-” you look over your shoulder at Lin who looks completely composed, it irks you that right now she’s trying to control you, acting like she has some sort of say over your actions.

“Yeah and I don’t care, family trumps law enforcement” you reply, effectively ending the conversation.

“Wait, does that mean we can go down to?” you hear Boin ask from up above, Lin barks out a no as she follows after you, most likely scowling no doubt. On the tram that speeds downward, Lin approaches you with her hands held behind her back, she’s still scowling from earlier, but her expression softens just a fraction when you look into her eyes.

“Stay in the back and out of trouble” she orders, Korra and Tenzin are on the other side of the tram, out of earshot. You push off the railing and take a step closer until your chests are touching, maintaining eye contact with her. Lin’s breath catches, which pleases you and offers you a bit of hope.

“If Korra needs me I’ll do what I must to protect her, even if that means being in the frontlines,” you say defiantly. Lin sighs, her scowl diminishing. “You shouldn’t care anyway, remember? This, us, isn’t a thing… unless you’ve changed your min-”

“I haven’t, I want you out of the way because you’ll be a nuisance to the mission if you end up hurt or in need of help,” she says, taking a small step away from you before stalking off. Your shoulders sag, oh. Pema’s encouraging words seem so quiet right now, you could really use another pep talk from her right about now. For a second it seemed like maybe she’d caved, maybe she’d finally admit at this moment on the tram that she had feelings for you and wanted to give it a shot after this raid. Your hands clench as you try to squash down any oncoming tears and sigh.

The tram lurches to a stop and you stumble forward a bit before catching yourself. You can’t let Lin be right, can’t give her the satisfaction so you square your shoulders and march out after them. An audible gasp leaves you at the sight ahead. Korra was right, all day it seemed like a wild goose chase but in front of you is a large warehouse that has banners hanging from the ceilings with Amons face on them, fear crawls through you at the memory of being electrocuted at the arena, of the explosion and Korra almost dying too many times to count.

The center of the warehouse is empty, but what lines the walls are towering, mechanical… statues? You squint in confusion at the contraptions “and I’m guessing those are the new weapons” Korra states. You take a step forward from the group but Lin grabs your forearm and pulls you away from the statues and has you stand behind her. A part of you wants to yell at her, claim you aren’t a nuisance or useless, but now doesn’t seem like the time.

“Hiroshi was lying alright, but where is he?” Tenzin asks, and as if answering his question a large metal wall shoots up from beside you, Lin pulls you away from it and if not for her you probably would have gotten killed as it slams into the roof, locking you guys inside. You look up at her and she immediately drops your arm, tearing her gaze away from you and composing herself once more. Lin steps forward and tries to metal bend the wall back down, but nothing happens, not even a slight tremor, green lights flash on within the statues as they come to life, Hiroshi’s voice suddenly surrounds them, he must be talking into a microphone.

“I’m afraid you won’t be able to metal bend that wall, Chief Beifong. It’s solid platinum.” The statues make a loud whirring sound as they start to move away from their respective spots and glide towards the group, effectively cornering them. “My mecha tanks are platinum as well. Not even your renowned mother could bend a metal so pure.”

“Hiroshi, I knew you were a lying no good equalist. Come out here and-”

“And do what, young avatar? Face the wrath of your bending? No. I think I’ll fight from inside here, where my odds are a little more… equal” he cuts Korra off. Your eyes widen, not hearing what Lin says as he shoots a metal hook out of his tank's hand, you all jump away from it but the other tanks keep moving in on you.

You look around for any kind of water source, for a moment it seems like a fruitless attempt until you feel it, you whirl around and notice the metal pipe against the wall. You run-up to an officer and shout “I need you to break that pipe for me!” He stares in confusion for a minute before following your pointed finger and realizing your intentions. He rips the pipes open and water comes flooding in, you hope there's some kind of drain around here or you might have just doomed you all.

There’s no time to worry though and you bend sharp daggers made out of water and aim them at the tank closest to you, it whirls its face around to stare at its attacker and starts to advance on you, but you bend water around its feet and legs, then freeze it. While it’s immobile you send more frozen daggers at it, this time aiming for its chest and two finally penetrate the metal, causing sparks to fly out of its chest as it whirs, you bend water into the two holes, completely breaking it. Without a second to lose you move onto another that the officers are holding down with their wires and do the same to its chest. A loud crash is heard behind you and you whirl around to see that the tank Lin was on fell against a metal beam and onto the floor.

Your heart squeezes in fear until you see her standing on top of it, completely fine and a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in finally escapes with a strangled noise that probably would have embarrassed you in different circumstances. In your moment of distraction, the officers you helped had moved onto another tank, and you watch in horror as it electrocutes them by using their metal wires. The officers shout in pain as they spasm out of control before dropping to the ground.

That same tank advances on you quickly, you stumble back, slipping on the ice you had created for the first tank and fall onto it with a groan, your head slams down onto the ice and pain begins to spawn from that same spot but you can’t stop now, you can’t be a nuisance. Out of the corner of your eye, you see another one shoot its wire out at Lin and slam her against the wall. “Lin!” you shout, your eyes widening as she doesn’t move. Next Hiroshi’s tanks knock out Korra and soon after Tenzin, you're the only one awake and the tank chasing after you finally stop but doesn’t make a move to hurt you.

Hiroshi’s tank swirls around from its stance in front of Tenzin and charges at you, you bend water around the floor in front of you to create ice in hopes of stopping his advances, your starting to feel weak from the wound at the back of your head.

“I have plans for you,” Hiroshi says through his tanks microphone, it comes out a bit staticy due to the attacks but otherwise it moves like it’s still in perfect condition. You try to bend daggers at him but you can’t throw them far enough to hit him, they all fall at his tanks feet and a mocking laugh echoes through the warehouse. Something warm trickles down your neck, you hesitantly raise a hand to the back of your head and when you pull away your met with blood, it drips off your hand and onto the ice. You can’t beat them all, not alone and not in your state.

The ice begins to melt due to the heat of the room and Hiroshi shoots out a wire of his own, your heart gives out as you know what's about to happen, you close your eyes as you wait for the inevitable and are shortly encased in shocking pain, it's worse than last time, so much worse and you think you might have screamed, you're not entirely sure due to being disoriented from the millions of sharp pinpricks you feel in your bones. All to fast you once again succumb to the pain and your eyes give out.

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bakugohoex · 4 years

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chapter one ➺ auld rivals

pairing: pro hero katsuki bakugo x pro hero female reader

cw: language and angry boi

word count: 2000+

a/n: omfg sorry for positing this at midnight but hope you guys like chapter one i think it’s starting off good so far and this is defo a slow burn so don’t expect action until later on

summary: in which you and bakugo are rivals always competing against one another, you get called into the commission late at night, unbeknownst that bakugo is there you arrive expecting nothing important but instead are met face to face with the president herself

masterlist | chapter two

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

Blood dripped from the side of his face, his breathing heavy and resting on his lips was a smirk. The god damn cocky smile that you wanted to punch out of him. “Fucking hell Y/n only 10 people saved, someone’s doing shit.” You scowled how could he talk about saving people when you were the one who was making sure buildings stopped falling on him and the civilians.

All his quirk was bang bang explosions, nothing special. Yours on the other hand telepathy and psychokinesis one hundred times better than shitty Bakugo’s quirk. He would always prance around acting like a penguin with his ass on fire as if he had been the one saving people. All he did was carry them away, you on the other hand, stopping buildings and rubble fall off them with your mind.

It was a lot harder than Bakugo thought, one wrong thought and everything would come crashing down. But what did you care? His opinion meant nothing and as long as the people were saved that’s all that really mattered. The stars guided the darkness like a picture-perfect scene, the only torments being the blond beside you explosions in hand and the A rank villain in front of you.

“Let me handle this.” You were going to have your glory if it was the last thing you’d do, you didn’t want the glory of praise and admiration. You wanted Katsuki Bakugo on his knees admitting that you were better than him.

You activated your telepathy going into his head, “don’t you fucking dare.” He was unable to move and that’s all you wanted him to do, his silence and lack of movement confirmed he was obeying you before you turned to the villain, their quirk seemed to melt away things it touched.

You ran up to it, the sweat falling down from your body. You had made a hero costume which suited you and had easy mobility allowing you to not only use your psychokinesis to trap the rubble around the villains arms but to easily run and jump onto objects to kick the villains down. Their arms became trapped as it had already begun to melt away the concrete that you latched onto it and before you could use your quirk you felt the melted away rubble hit your body.

“Fuck.” A low whisper came as you could hear Bakugo’s thoughts, the hatred he had pent up to you but his inability to move suppressing him. Maybe it was selfish to let your own aspirations get in the way of a quick defeat, but where’s the fun in that.

You used your quirk effectively getting inside the villain as you prevented it touching anything before grabbing the discarded metal from the destruction that had been caused prior. Metal surrounded your arms as you made it move along with your walking. Both your quirks in action before you pushed everything you had onto the villain. Their movement limited as they were trapped underneath, you heard nor saw no movement and the smirk you felt on your face rise made Bakugo’s blood boil.

You stopped manipulating Bakugo as he ran towards you quirk raised, you could almost feel the explosions and burning sensation his pace quickening. “Bakugo don’t you dare, or I’ll get inside your head again and we both don’t want that.”

Telepathy took a toll on you the majority of the times, hearing thoughts and emotions wasn’t something you were too fond of doing. The villain in question had transformed back into a human having previously been a sluggish type of creature, he was knocked unconsciousness, you both saw the police force come and arrest him.

“Don’t you ever fucking do that shit again Y/n.” Bakugo raised his voice catching the attention of the police force and commission representatives.

You crossed your arms raising an eyebrow, “I’m the one who defeated the villain.” He was furious, the rage that filled inside of him was more than he could ever imagine, and it was going towards a pipsqueak like you.

“You got into my head and prevented me from doing my job you dumbass.” His knuckles had turned white at the clenched fist he was making. You had pissed him off and all you could give him was a shrug.

“Shitty woman.” He could say all he wanted about you, but you didn’t care.

You didn’t expect him to get on your knees for you, but you were doing your job, and logically you knew that if he used his quirk it would have no effect on this type of villain. You were able to suppress and defeat him and with both you and Bakugo fighting together the chances of risk increased. It wasn’t that you assumed the level of risk would be high, you knew you had worked it out whilst preventing rubble from falling from civilians. And one of the likely outcomes that had the highest percentage was Bakugo melting away.

You would never tell him you suppressed him to save him, you’d rather he be pissed with you then even consider that you two were more than rivals. He had left to go back to the agency, whilst you explained what happened to the police force knowing you’d be the one to have to do the paperwork.

You signed walking back as well, it had reached pitch darkness by the time you arrived back, stripping the costume off, the long-sleeved black leotard covering most of your body, with exposed legs which were covered by thigh highs that went right up to your mid-thigh.

Your quirk didn’t mean you necessarily needed any fancy costume but the one you wore made it easier to move especially the gloves on your hands which allowed for more materials to be controlled around your fingers. It was a benefit of some sorts; a black necklace went around your neck which allowed for a lack of nausea to occur. It was common for you to vomit up after controlling too many people back in your UA days but now it was less common, only a mild headache occurring.

Wearing normal clothes, you grabbed your bags knowing your patrol was over and you could have a weekend of relaxation. Mina and Momo having invited the girls for a catchup, it had been months since you last saw them and to have a catchup on life events was a must. You all had been busy and as you all grew older the busier everybody got, even the boys seemed to have their own lives. You didn’t mind but working alongside Bakugo in the same agency was a pain, you never expected it once graduating together but now you and Bakugo were like auld rivals.

You saw Bakugo at the front entrance he was on the phone as he paced back and forth. Probably one of his hook ups telling him he’s the father, you didn’t dare look into his thoughts, it was his private life and in honesty it made you uncomfortable.

He saw you walking out, you easily passed him he was still pissed by how his voice raised even more. Someone had made him even angrier than before clearly; you didn’t bother to ask mainly due to not caring.

A couple signs and vulgar swears came out of his mouth, you didn’t know if it was a friend, mother or even some from above but you stopped caring once you heard something from your bag.

Your phone ringing loudly, you hated phone calls even from your own parents, the idea of talking to people wherever you were was disgusting. That didn’t mean you hated people you just liked your own space and liked hanging out with people on your own accord. You answered the unknown number you were met with someone you never expected.

“This is Y/n Y/l/n.” They were almost unsure themselves, why call if you don’t know if you’re talking to the right person.

“Ugh yeah.” You were hesitant not liking the weakness of not being able to hear or know the other person’s thoughts on the other side.

You heard a sign of relief as they spoke again, “thank God, we thought you had been sent to the hospital, it’s the Hero Public Safety commission, I work under the president and we want to see you.”

“You didn’t have to make it so dramatic” You mutter barely audible, “I’ll be there.”

She says no more hanging up, you hated being called to the commission, they had no need to directly go to you when they could just go to someone who truly cared about the formalities, all you wanted to do was save people and piss Bakugo off, but no something always seemed to happen.

You turned around walking back the way you came from, passing the agency, Bakugo had probably already gone home himself. Why the fuck did you have to go to the commission why couldn’t that shitty man get called in as well?

You didn’t hate Bakugo you were just tired and hated how he could go home probably to a nice warm bed whilst you had to take detours for hells know what reasons.

Finally arriving after your unrelieved feelings had become dull to bare, you walked inside a man already waiting for you. You followed trying to get some sort of vibe from the man, you couldn’t bare to read his thoughts knowing it’d be emotional with anxieties over work so tried to look at him seeing if he had anything to him that showed hope.

He didn’t! He led you to the presidents office after a silent ride u the elevator, you didn’t mean to stare at the man, but you wanted to know if he had any clue of what was going on. And when you did finally get into his brain it was more worries about if his wife would let him in the house for being late.

A bore as you had thought, the double doors enticed you to come forward, someone was already waiting in the chair as you walked in, what you hadn’t realised was a woman had been walking back out. You both crashed into each other and her papers fell everywhere, using your quirk you gathered the papers quickly preventing them for falling on the ground and getting muddled up, the papers rested back in her arms as you helped her up.

“Sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going.” You hummed an its okay before seeing the president. It was a shock to see her the one leading this meeting but you didnt ask just wanting to get it over and done with.

“Agh Y/n so glad you could join us, take a seat.” At the sight of your name being spoken the man quickly turned his head, and it was someone you hadn’t expected.

Bakugo sat on the chair, angry as always. You sat beside him, his glare on your body, he watched intentively as you tried to make him stop by glaring back.

“What’s the stupid psychic doing here?” You continued to glare but at the word psychic you got pissed, you weren’t a stupid fake psychic and it irritated you when he said it.

The president watched you both glaring it was a sight to say the least, you were on the verge of pushing his chair over and you could already sense explosions about to appear before she finally cleared her throat before speaking.

“We didn’t call you both here to fight we have a proposition for you two.” You both gave blank looks before Bakugo spoke.

“If you want us to do some shitty work in other fields than I’m already out.” Bakugo was ready to leave. You nodded in agreement not wanting to be involved as some promoter for a shitty energy drink to be sold to the youth. Both ready to leave on your own accords, the president finally turned away looking out through the glass windows admiring the stars and the moon which shone throughout the blues and blacks of the sky. It was a river of opportunity that you had often admired whilst on patrols.

She spoke again but this time the next words that came out of her mouth had stopped you both in your thoughts. “What do you two know about the Paranormal Liberation Front?”

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romiithebirdie · 4 years

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From the Furthest Tether: Part Three

Harsh rainfall pelted down from the black sky above, fast droplets hitting Tomura Shigaraki's bare chest that exposed the faint scars littering across his body from the battle at Jaku. Narrowing a hardened scarlet eyes down at the decaying wreckage as he stood high and mighty in mid-air, courtesy of the Nomu who had transported him to Tartarus.

Bullets screeched through the air, some connecting with his skin and blasting his arm into a mangled, bloody mess as crimson liquid spilled over the smouldering brickwork. He barely flinched, immediately activating his Regeneration power that had saved his life on multiple occasions when he was facing the recently disgraced Pro Hero Endeavor.

Behind Father, he spread his chapped lips into a gleeful grin. Oh, how he hoped Endeavor was suffering both physically and mentally in the aftermath. He honestly couldn't wait for Round Two where he'd succeed in reducing the Flame Hero to nothing more than dust in the air.

Jumping from his Nomu's back, he casually strolled past the destruction while rejoicing under the loud blare of the prison alarms that howled out in a melancholic chorus. To the Guards and staff inside, they cowered in fear. But to Tomura Shigaraki? The unbearable sound marked the beginning of his deathgrip on the hero society.

Criminals poured from every entrance and window below his spot above them all, the tattered clothes covering the lower-half of his body billowed in between the whistling air and thick black smoke, like a flag flying high in the night sky.

Tomura's eyes wandered over the stampede, recognising Muscular and other villains crowding together as they beat back a futile stand by a few foolish Prison Guards. A cold shiver ran up his spine which seemed to spike his fury further as he slowly turned around, his senses overwhelming him under the image of All for One standing across the platform.

"Master…" the student rasped, suddenly feeling the urge to scratch at his neck. He glanced down at the body held in All for One's grip with little emotion, noting the small line of blood running from the guard's head.

His teacher began speaking to him, though Tomura could barely understand the words coming out of the villain's mouth as his ears filled with the sound of loud static. A possible reaction to their twin Quirks, perhaps?

"I told you…" Tomura's voice was rough, almost as if it was physically hurting him to speak, "That this is my body, my will, Master…"

"Hmm?" Japan's most feared man glanced down at Shigaraki like he was a small toddler. "You need rest, Tomura," his voice cooed, dripping with faux-warmth as he bared his teeth in a wide grin, "that regeneration Quirk will not work unless your body is at full health."

Don't talk down to me like I'm some weak little child!

Shigaraki's eyes flashed in rage, gnashing his teeth together at the large mocking smirk adjourning his teacher's face.

"I...I am not going to be your pawn," he growled out. Not anymore. He had his own goals, his own desires now.

"Oh?" All for One's grip on the eerily-unmoving guard's jacket tightened. "Now why would you think such a thing? No. To me, Tomura Shigaraki, you are an important successor."

The breathing apparatus floated in the air, held up by an invisible force as Japan's most feared man took another couple of steps towards his protege. "See how those below us desire to submit?" he asked, unfazed by the Tomura snarling at him like a feral animal that had been backed up into a corner. "This will be the story of how I become the greatest demon lord in existence."

His large hands then slowly reached out, akin to a puppetmaster controlling the strings of his lifeless, wooden marionettes…

Until Izuku's eyes shot open, cutting off a gasp which caught in his already-aching throat that felt as if somebody had their hands gripped around it with the intent to strangle him in his sleep.

His blurry vision registered the sickly white-coloured walls and scratchy sheets covering his body…

Ah, right.

He was in the hospital. Recovering from injuries that could- should have killed him back in Jaku. He leaned back against the singular pillow supporting the twinge in his neck.

Tick, tock.

Izuku glanced up at the clock across the room as it clicked back and forth in a monotonous motion. The window blinds of Izuku's ward had been put down, blocking out the strips of orange and red rays of sunlight that left the ward remaining a dark and sombre surround.

He reached forward and slowly picked up his phone that had been left on one of the plastic visitor chairs at his beside. Blinking tiredly with eyes that were heavy from lack of sleep, Izuku found himself slowly scanning over the screen of his mobile device. His thumb was brushing repeatedly over the cracked screen while it continued to illuminate his freckled face with a dull, bluish hue.

He swallowed thickly, still feeling the dizzying wave of nausea hit him every couple of minutes. The teen had been given a large amount of strong medication to minimize his body aches and the sharp throb of surgical stitches littered over his broken body. Izuku moaned to himself softly, muscles protesting the small movements as he slid his phone back on his bedside cabinet.

Since the previous night, he had barely heard from All Might. After his outburst in the middle of the hospital waiting area, he couldn't really blame the retired Pro from steering clear. Deep down, Izuku mused that the hospital staff possibly had more to do with the lack of visitation as it had taken a couple of nurses to return him to his ward the night prior. His mother had followed quietly behind the medical staff as they wheeled her son back towards his ward while trying to conceal her flowing tears.

She'd held his hand while Izuku was hooked back up to his IV, where another nurse had then quickly provided morphine. Whether it was just to help with the pain of his recovering injuries or played a part in settling him down, Izuku had no clue.

He glanced down at the cannula attached to his drip with a small whine, regardless of the hospital's reasoning, it had worked a treat last night and still had Izuku feeling like his head was full of cotton wool.

Izuku's phone buzzed atop the cabinet, the volume completely muted to prevent his head from pounding more than it was. Thankfully, his plump pillows gave him enough height to squint over at the name trying to reach him.

All Might.

Complete with a picture of the grinning Symbol of Peace that Izuku had screenshot from an interview stream several years ago. A bandaged hand gripped the phone and swiped across the screen to answer;

"Hello?"

"Ah, good morning, Young Midoriya!" even though Izuku couldn't see All Might's face, he could hear the smile that his mentor was forcing himself to wear. "How are you feeling?"

"Mm," Izuku shifted his legs through the thin bed sheets, legs tangled slightly as he flopped them down in defeat. He'd been way better but; "I'm getting there, thanks."

This response seemed to be enough to satisfy Toshinori from the other side of the phone line as he bobbed his head in a nodding motion before letting out a soft hum of agreement.

Izuku's eyes returned to his bedsheets, thin pupils scanning over the scratchy patterns running across the thin fabric while the retired Pro breathed heavily over the phone, the silence between them soon growing awkward as they both waited for the other to speak up again.

"So," Toshinori let his voice drag along the 'o' sound for a few moments before swallowing thickly, "any updates with the doctors?"

"Mhm, not really," Izuku switched hands, pushing the receiver against his other ear, "I think they're getting Recovery Girl in today."

Izuku hadn't been told that, he'd listened in on a conversation between hospital staff from outside his door. Not that All Might needed to know about his sudden interest in eavesdropping…

"So I think I'll be able to return to the dorms soon."

"Ah, good," Toshinori paused for a second. "Good…"

Izuku frowned, he recognised that tone.

"Is everything okay?"

He heard the hero splutter from the other end of the call, "E-Everything's fine, why wouldn't it be?"

Izuku's bandaged knuckles tightened around the phone, the plastic making small little cracking sounds of protest. Even without using his Quirk, Izuku's physical strength was more amplified due to his daily workout routine to maintain his Quirk-control.

"Well I-" Izuku's claw clicked shut. Could he bring up what he'd seen while he'd been asleep? Shigaraki and All for One...The villains breaking out of Tartarus… Was that even possible?

"Young Midoriya?"

"I saw more of the First User of One for All," Izuku belted out before he could stop himself. He wondered whether or not he should mention Nana Shimura being there too… Maybe it was better to tell All Might in person than over the phone?

"You did?" there was a small rustle in the background.

"But Shigaraki was there," Izuku chewed his lip before continuing; "And All for One."

"Oh?" Izuku cracked a dry smile at All Might's attempt to mask the concern in his voice. "How very...interesting."

"He could see me, All Might," both of Izuku's hands gripped the phone. "All for One."

"I see," there was a brief silence, the only sound coming from a soft buzz of phone static. "Do you recall anything that could have been said?"

Izuku winced, his chest tightening once again as All for One's cruel taunts forcefully entered back into his thoughts.

"No."

"Midoriya…" there was a slight edge to his mentor's voice and Izuku slumped his shoulders, sighing softly while still holding the phone in both hands. All Might knew he wasn't being truthful so what was the point in trying to hide it, aside from his own pride?

"He, uh," Izuku pushed his head against the wall that his bed lined up against, "mainly spoke to the First User but he saw me there and probably figured it'd be fun to mess with my head too."

Which could possibly explain the cause of his outburst last night and waking up from that weird haze-fuelled dream this morning. From everything that All Might had told him and the things he'd witnessed in the past, All for One was an extremely petty individual. For some reason, that scared the teen even more.

"What did he say?" All Might dreaded the answer, while Izuku dreaded reminding himself of All for One's hysterical tirade.

"Could we do this face to face?" Izuku whispered, bringing his knees up towards his chin and shrinking into himself. "Please?"

All Might was silent on the other end, biting his lip due to the fact that he had upcoming meetings with Tsukauchi and the Hero Commission over the recent events in Jaku. Endeavor was still unconscious but an investigation was already underway…

"Young Midor-"

"It's fine. I understand," Izuku swallowed thickly, understanding his mentor's silence. "It's just…"

"Hard?"

Izuku blinked, taking in air sharply from his nostrils, "Mhm," he shrugged, not caring that All Might wasn't able to see him do it, "his words...Struck a nerve, I guess?"

"Young Midoriya, whatever that monster said to you, do not let it deter you from the path you wish to take," All Might suddenly sounded furious. It made sense. All Might was the villain's nemesis, of course he'd know how Izuku was feeling. "He uses his words and power to emotionally shatter people, either to hurt them or to bend them to his own will. Do not let him succeed in doing that to you."

"I won't," Izuku answered, far too quickly for All Might's taste. The blond had a rough idea that he knew exactly what that bastard had said to his successor. After all, he himself had fallen victim to All for One's influence back in Kamino when he had dropped the bombshell that was Nana Shimura's legacy;

"Oh, surely you remember Tomura Shigaraki? My student?" the masked villain had goaded casually, as if he were simply discussing the weather to the Symbol of Peace. "He's Nana Shimura's grandson."

Toshinori had to admit that after hearing those words, he'd almost shattered upon impact, losing momentary composure in front of the demon opposite him. Thankfully, his mentor and father-figure had been there to keep him grounded and that was what Toshinori intended to do with Midoriya. Despairing was what that creature wanted and he wasn't sinking his claws into his student.

"Izuku, listen to me."

Izuku said nothing, prompting Toshinori to continue;

"You are my successor and the rightful owner of One for All. He wants you to feel this way, so that you'll be more likely to attempt to give up your Quirk willingly. Please remember that."

That...actually made sense, in a way.

Izuku knew the cruel taunts wouldn't leave his thoughts right away, but All Might had offered the teen comforting words that he'd needed to hear, as much as he was currently unaware of it.

"I will, All Might," the teen swallowed thickly, eyes prickling as he tried to force his tears back. "I promise."

"That's my boy," Izuku's heart squeezed hearing those words and this time, he allowed his tears to spill down his freckled cheeks. "I'll come and see you as soon as I can, deal?"

Gulping back a small shudder, Izuku's lips pressed into a wobbly smile, "Deal."

"I'll try and make time either this evening or tomorrow at the latest. You take care until then."

"Same to you too," Izuku breathed out shakily, "hey, All Might?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

Izuku swore he heard a soft chuckle before the phone was put down and his phone screen shut off. Setting it back on the cabinet, Izuku picked up the remote control to the television inside his ward. Perhaps some daytime television could lift his spirits?

Flicking through channels, he almost dropped the controller in surprise at the sight of a reporter clinging to the wide-open door of what Izuku assumed was a news helicopter that was hovering over a massive smoking island.

A smoking island that felt vaguely familiar to the teenager…

"-Seems to be a surveillance breach at this supposed maximum security prison!" the female reporter yelled over the loud chopping sound of helicopter rotors slicing through the rough sea wind. "Footage shows various villains fleeing the island, including Tomura Shigaraki, the young man who was the ringleader for the devastating attack in Jaku City!"

The remote slipped from his hands and clattered to the tiled floor, pieces of plastic scuttling across the ground along with the batteries that had flung out in opposite directions. One ending up rolling under a medical cabinet while the other hit one of the ward wall's skirting boards.

Tight knots began to curl tightly inside his own stomach as Izuku's pale face stared at the television in utter horror.

He hadn't been dreaming.

They were out. The villains. Probably including the ones Izuku had a hand in defeating.

Overhaul, Muscular, Stain...All for One.

"No, no, no," he whimpered. He couldn't take them on now, for God's sake he could barely move! His eyes moved back towards the cabinet and his hand reached back in the direction of where he had set his phone...

#ao3 bnha #bnha fanfiction #izuku midoriya #all might #dadmight #all for one #tomura shigaraki #dad for one #my hero academia fanfiction #my writing

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daz4i · 4 years

Note

psychoanalyze atsumu? only if you want... im just interested on your thoughts cause your icon (｡･･｡)

*cracks knuckles* OKAY SO

(typing this on mobile so sorry if anything is weird, really hope the read more thing works too. also major manga spoilers warning!!!)

atsumu is a really interesting character, story role wise - he along with the rest of inarizaki starts as some major boss our main characters have to face in order to achieve their goal, and remains a background character for the rest of that arc

but later on in the story he becomes a consistent side character, like the rest of karasuno is for hinata and kageyama for all pre-timeskip events

in addition to that, he does go through some development over the timeskip, tho we're not really there to see his actual character arc, only the results of it (we do get enough details to go by tho, imo, but I'll get to that!)

so this^ was just to establish his role, and that it puts him in an interesting position to analyze, far more unique than a regular supporting character or a one-arc-wonder background character like he could've been (haikyuu does a really good job when it comes to giving personality and story even to those tho which is amazing). time to actually get into it now

i think atsumu's driving force is very clear, so much that even furudate said so - love. yes, competition and his brother are great motivators, but they're not the reason he does things. getting better is not what drives him, but more like his goal - to be more metaphorical, getting better at volleyball and specifically at being a setter is like the top of a mountain for him, but he's climbing the mountain in the first place simply because he loves, well, climbing mountains. everything he does, the hours of excessive training, not knowing when to quit, and becoming a pro - he does simply because he loves volleyball

(i always jokingly call him oikawa 2 bc of said excessive training and general Vibes but like, this is precisely what sets them apart imo - "getting better" being atsumu's goal or specific objective, but oikawa's driving force and motivator)

but that's just one aspect, if we wanna go full analyzation we're gonna be here awhile longer probably

so, we got atsumu's driving force. great! that's an important thing for making a recurring character! now we need 1 an obstacle, 2 some flaws, but 3 stuff that'll make them likable enough for the audience. and imo for atsumu it's:

1. an obvious answer is, for the first time we see inarizaki, karasuno as a whole. honestly obstacles in sports are p straightforward ngl. if we're talking about atsumu's character as a whole, as in more than his volleyball career, and if we're gonna focus on some short term goals, i think post timeskip he does have that minor goal to. well. be likable (just look at how hard he's trying to crack jokes at the monster gen impromptu reunion, and how straight up devastated he is when he fails + the first time we see him post timeskip, saying things like "why was i even born" because he messed up in front of other people)! and his obstacle for that is…

2. oh boy. atsumu's flaws. to put it simply, he's a dick. at least pre timeskip. he does mellow a bit after, and I'll elaborate on that later. he's also loud, kinda vulgar, demanding, childish, call it what you want tbh. tldr he's unpleasant for the people around him. also, he doesn't know when to quit - be it for training his setting skills, or calling someone out for playing badly. he keeps trying to get better even after the timeskip both because of his driving force that i mentioned earlier, and because of this, which brings me to

3. so, atsumu not knowing when to quit could be a flaw, but not necessarily! as i said, it does make him more determined, and some people may see it as an admirable quality! also he's genuinely just a fun character, possibly because he's loud and vulgar as i mentioned earlier - people love to see characters that aren't perfect because they're easier to relate to, and atsumu is no different! + his moments with osamu are genuinely just fun to watch imo, so yeah!

ok so we got a great base for a recurring character! now we gotta give them an arc. as i mentioned, atsumu's arc does happen mostly off screen, or rather the length of it does. but that doesn't mean we can't piece things together from the details we have!

i think the main reasons atsumu mellows down through the timeskip, in addition to basic things like "he's an adult now and has to act like one", are a) him becoming a captain in his third year, and b) osamu "leaving" him

a is pretty straightforward imo - he gets more responsibility put on him, he has to grow up and be more authoritative to fit that role, he grows as a person and becomes more understanding and patient through that which adds into the person we meet 5 years later

b is more complex, in a sense. we know atsumu took it hard that osamu decided to quit volleyball, even if the signs were there even before he declared that (honestly atsumu might've just ignored them. it makes sense even, that he'll be in denial about the whole thing until he no longer can). in a sense, he loses the one person who was always there for and with him in everything he did. they're still close, but things drastically change as they move on into different fields and have different goals. osamu doesn't have the same love atsumu does, so he'll never be able to keep up the pace anyway

and as i did mention earlier, osamu was one of atsumu's motivators. to be metaphorical again, atsumu's love is like a car, and his competition with osamu was like the gas that let it drive, at first. so once this competition goes away, he needs to find new gas, a new way to make it drive. i think this whole thing was kind of like a slap in the face for him tbh, which is also why he reacted harshly. but he did find it in the form of a pro career, and then hinata, maybe competition with kageyama instead, a whole bunch of things but mostly just playing more volleyball.

this was like. character analysis honestly. if we wanna talk specifically psychoanalysis, I'd say he definitely has something that makes him a bit more obsessed than just love (imo it's perfectionism to an unhealthy degree), and a desperate need to be liked after being abandoned by a person who was always by his side who supplied him with attention that he's now lost, and to make up for that he looks specifically for attention from people he respects and sees as equals, i think (which is why he tries hard to make other vball players like him but doesn't particularly care about his fangirls for example, as we've seen pre timeskip too).

anyway thanks for coming to my ted talk I'm sorry for rambling so much thank you for the ask!!!!

#really hope tumblr won't cut this off hehe.#what he says: atsumu mentally ill / what he means: *this 1200 words monstrosity*#dan rambles #actually i put a lotta effort into that I'm gonna tag it for more people to see #miya atsumu #haikyuu!!#character analysis #feel free to hmu with more characters i love writing this stuff and I'm always bored #(tho i might do that tomorrow bc i do need to sleep now)

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aaaaang · 4 years

Note

Drabble prompt: Wuko goes on their first date and mako takes too long to realize that it is in fact a date and not just two bros hanging out lol

Oh... I got carried away with this one.... I really liked this one....... thank u sm 💖

Wu has been acting weird lately. It's true that Wu acted weird all the time, but this was a very different kind of weird. Mako didn't know what to make of it...

The night started just as any night did between the two of them. Mako was by himself as he tried to work on some paper work and Wu was... doing what ever he did in that bedroom of his. (Mako would be lying if he said he didn't have his own vanity routine, but he genuinely did not know what took him that long. And how can someone own so many shirts in so many colors?)

It was quiet and peaceful. That is until Wu barged into the room, loud and bigger than life. He did that a lot, taking charge of a room and becoming center stage. By now, Mako has gotten used to how much room he takes.

Suddenly, they were both off to a night on the town. However, when they entered the Sato Mobile, Wu turned toward Mako and asked where he would like to go. Some place that they hadn't been to. Someplace Mako specifically knew. Afterall, Wu always chose and he'd rather see something Mako would like. So, despite his better judgment, Mako gave the driver the address to Narook's.

Clue number one: attention.

Narook's was not the place to take a prince. It was in a worser part of the city (but not the worst) and there was a good chance they could have run into trouble. Not to mention the joint itself was nothing like the up scale restaurants Wu had taken them to before. The walls were old and not as well kept as they should be. Seating was close together, which on a busy night meant weaving your way through people and tables and definitely knocking into people. The decor was probably pretty far from on trend as well. Oh yeah and the kitchen was pretty much right there.

But when Mako thought good food, he thought of warm cheap noodles and broth. Surprisingly, Wu seemed enthralled with it all.

"I don't think I've ever been to a place like this before. So... worn and vibrant!" Wu was observing a rather loud party right next to them with a smile. "And pretty loud too, haha! I don't think I've ever had a noisy dinner."

Mako rolled his eyes as he leaned back in his seat.

"You should be here during a pro bending tournament. Much worse," Mako added on with a bit of a groan. Oh the many times he had spilled food during a busy night...

Wu laughed at that, turning his attention back to Mako and leaning across the table.

"I didn't say it was a bad thing, you know. I think I like this." Wu gestured vaguely around them. "You don't really feel alone. Kinda like you have a family."

There was something in his eyes that seemed to give away a lot more than he was telling. Mako almost wanted to ask but he found the words trapped somewhere. There was something else in the air and in their words. Feet pressed against his under the table, and he pressed back without much thought.

"Oh my-Mako is that the wolfbats? Wait a minute... Mako is that you in that picture?"

And then that something else was gone.

Clue number two: the air.

After they finished eating, Wu insisted they walked around. Something about fresh air helping digestion or... what ever. Mako tuned him out. (Definitely did not get distracted by watching Wu covering his ears or anything. No, he intentionally missed what he said.)

Fall was starting to come to an end, and with winter came a chill. It wasn't too bad yet, just enough to bite at your nose and ears. Mako dealt with the cold rather well, years of living off of the streets developed a bit of a resistance to it. Also, he had his fire bending to warm him up if he truly got chilly.

It seemed Wu did not fair the same. He brought a scarf to cover his neck, but as they kept walking he pressed closer and closer to Mako to seek warmth. It got to the point where their hands constantly bumped into the other. Not wanting him to freeze, Mako simply pulled him into his side with a hand on his waist. Again, he thought nothing of it.

"I told you to wear something heavier," Mako chided.

"Mako, I can't predict it to drop so quickly. What do you want me to do? Hire a 24/7 weather man or something?"

Wu seemed to press into him just a little bit more than necessary. Mako didn't find it in him to mind. They spent the rest of their walk quietly talking to each other. Mostly, Mako listened. He didn't mind that each either.

Clue three: touch.

The rest of the night passed like this: Wu and Mako walked down the streets with the light of the lamps and shops guiding them. Every once in a while they were stopped either by people recognizing Mako or by some window catching Wu's eye. They stayed close together and nothing else eventful seemed to happen. It was overall just... pleasant. Much more enjoyable than bars or mixers or what ever else Wu drags him to, that's for sure.

They make it back to the hotel suite, and Mako goes back to his paper work. At this point, Wu goes to the bathroom and then to his room for the night. Instead, he lingers in the shared room. It's odd. Very odd.

Just as Mako gets puts his pen to paper Wu speaks up.

"Hey Mako, I had a fun night tonight," He says quietly.

He's leaning against the entrance to the hallway, his arm across his body as his hand props him up. Wu looks small. He's a small man in general, but he always seemed to take up a room. Now he seems to be just a tiny flame in the corner of a dark room.

"I did too," Mako says back.

Somehow that doesn't feel like the right answer. There's this quietness between them, and similar to the moment in Narook's but a little... worse? Mako cannot figure out why. They hold each others gaze.

Then Wu pulls away. The moment is lost as a smile stretches across his face. His usual bright smile, yet he somehow looks small still.

"Well! You tired me out, big guy. I'm going to head to bed. Make sure you don't fall asleep at that table again. You'll get a neck injury, and then what would i do without you?" Wu pulls away and heads towards his bedroom door. He waves as he heads inside. "Night buddy! See you in the morning!"

And as quick as he came in hours ago, he's gone. It's quiet. Mako is alone.

At first he picks up his pen and tries to write again. He tries to call back the thought that he had before Wu spoke yet the only thing that he can think about is Wu and just how odd tonight has been.

Why had Wu wanted to go somewhere Mako enjoyed? He didn't share a taste for high end cuisine like Wu did. He suggested a noodle joint of all things, yet Wu agreed. Actually, he seemed to really enjoy it. The only other person he's seen eat like that was Bolin. Mako knows this because he couldn't stop watching him eat. He tried to hide it, but it certainly made him smile.

And they walked along the streets, why did Mako indulge him in that? Wu looked and walked like money, he was aware of what could have happened on that street if they weren't careful. But Wu was pressed against him, excitedly telling him about some story or another. When people recognized Mako they gave them a *look* and he found some sort of amusement out of it. Mostly, Mako couldn't stop watching the way the lights of the city shaped and changed Wu's face. How much his eyes seemed to shine and reflect them. There was a certain loud beat in his chest as his heart-

...

Oh.

Clue number four: his heart.

The chair crashed against the floor as Mako stood. Before he could entirely understand what he was doing, he was making his way to Wu's bedroom door. He caught himself before he burst in and instead opted to knock on the door pretty loudly.

The door cracked open, Wu hiding behind it.

"Yes, Mako?" He asked tiredly.

Mako felt his mouth dry out and his tongue turn to sandpaper. He forced the words out of his mouth.

"I was just-you know tonight it was uh great! I uh-I realize I didn't quite-uh... you and I, we went as pals-I mean not pals. We-"

Mako silently cursed to himself and squeezed his eyes shut. Stop stumbling over your words, Mako! Stop fucking this up! Why did he have to be so bad at this, huh?

Breathe in. Breatheout.

He opened his eyes to find Wu starring up at him with a blank expression. He carefully tried again.

"Wu... did you take me on a date?" Mako finally asked.

Wu covered his mouth as he started to laugh. Embarrassed, Mako joined him.

"Yes! Of course it was a date." Wu answered him after his laughter seemed to calm down some. There were tears in his eyes threatening to spill and stains where they had before. He reached over to crowd into Mako's space. "Took you long enough. I thought you were letting me down easy..."

"No, I really didn't know." Mako pulled him closer, just like he had tonight. Both hands on his waist. "I should have known, it seems pretty obvious now. But... well I haven't been on that many dates you know."

Wu hummed and slowly slid his hands up Mako's chest to steady himself.

"Did you like it? The date?" Wu asked softly. Mako could see in his eyes he was worried. "Do you... do you like me?"

"Yeah. Yeah I did." Carefully, Mako leaned down to place a kiss on Wu's lips. He pulled away with a whisper. "Yeah, I do."

He didn't have to see Wu's smile to know it was digging into his cheeks enough to show his dimple. He could feel it as Wu pulled him down for another kiss. And then another. And then another.

They spent that night exchanging soft kisses and sharing secrets in the dark. No one but the moon that covered them in light was there to witness them. It was odd, but Mako could get used to this new normal between them.

#wuko #prince wu #Mako #lok #tlok #the legend of korra #ugh i literally??? loved this #i keep rereading it and loving it wtf i usually hate everything i write and cannot stand rereading it #i always make other ppl edit #drabbles #write tag

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botwstoriesandsuch · 4 years

Note

Hi I was hoping to ask for your advice on writing. I’m trying to write from headcanons to little short fics (like one shots) from the readers pov but I’m finding it difficult to do so smoothly. Any idea how to do the transition without it coming out as a fanfic readers worst nightmare?

Well, I cannot guarantee the quality of my “advice” but I will give it a shot!

Apologies for you folks that hate my big essay length posts, but I do love infodumping about the writing process :P

So just click “J” to skip the post (if you’re on mobile...sorry just exercise your scrolling finger a bit more)

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So I’ll start with the distinctions between a headcanon and a fic. On one hand, you got simpler sentences, that summarize a broader idea or scene. You might have visualized the entire thing in your head, but at the end of the day all you do is write down a few sentences or pieces of dialogue that give the broader basis of an idea and/or scene. That’s not to say writing headcanons is easy, but it is, bluntly, the simpler method.

Writing, obviously, is more complicated. Not only are you trying to convey a more abstract idea to your reader, but you’re doing so with more layers and complexities, given that what you are trying to write is generally more detailed. You have to not only account for what your basic premise is, but the method in which you convey it. So, in a “good” fic, it typically doesn’t just focus on the basic “what is happening right now” in a scene, but can give subtleties and intricacies with its tone, themes, point of view, connotation, foils, imagery, symbolism, sentence structure, diction, context, figurative language, narrative, foreshadowing, setting, irony, character arcs, and the thousands and thousands of other layers that go into constructing story.

And I say “story” there deliberately, as I think the best way to summarize the differences is that a headcanon is a plot, while a one-shot is a story. Your one-shot has the ability to tell different messages, details, and themes, and give several points of interest to your reader, while your headcanon is limited to the structure of its initial premise.

[And before you English nerds bash me for my definition of story and plot, please know that I am using my film teacher’s old definition, which (to quote this quizlet I found) is “Story is all of the elements of a narrative that are involved, both shown and un-shown on screen. Plot is only all of the elements of a narrative that are shown on screen.” So yeah, it theoretically could be rewritten as a headcanon is a scene, and a one-shot is a story, but I’m just nitpicking at this point half of you don’t care and want me to move on anyway, apologies!]

So how do you transition between them? Well, in honesty I don’t exactly have a sure fire way for you, saying I do would be very hypocritical. However, what I can do is point out the “gap” between headcanons and fics, and perhaps from there you might be able to forge your own path..?

Chances are, if you’re already familiar with writing headcanons, you’ve already knocked out half of the work. See in a story, specifically in our case, fic, you have eight elements that construct it. You’ve got

Plot

Setting

Conflict

Character

Point of View

Tone

Style

and Theme

With a headcanon, (assuming it’s slightly more specific than “Headcanon that this character likes peaches!”) you’ve already got plot, setting, conflict, and character down.

Plot: being the actual premise of your story. What happens, why things happen, how other characters react, the beginning and ending, etc.

Setting: Being the location and time of your scene/plot. The setting might be a contingency to your story, such as a prison break that takes place in prison, or maybe it is the time that is essential for your High School AU fic

Conflict: Typically goes hand and hand with your plot, although not always (obviously, plot and conflict aren’t essential when talking about fics, *winks at the nsfw side of tumblr*) But if your headcanon does have a basic plot, then it probably has some sort of conflict whether external (The Calamity kills everybody) or internal (you’re character is going through grief)

Character: This whole aspect is practically already done for you. Whether by canon from the video game or media you got it from, or perhaps by fanon, with the collective fandom agreeing on certain traits about your character(s) in question. Obviously, if you got an OC, that’s another thing, as you have to create their traits, and construct a believable way that that character reacts and makes choices throughout your plot, depending on how you characterized them

So congrats! In writing up your everyday headcanon, you’re now halfway there to making a full on fic! Obviously, 50% is still a lot, which is probably the reason you were seeking advice in the first place, so now we should move on to the other half, and arguably it is this other half of elements that give the entire distinction between a headcanon and a one-shot. So in theory, if you get these elements down, you’re on your way to writing that much faster!

Quick additional note: Another way to think of your headcanon is as an outline. While not in every case, a good way to jump from your headcanon to a fic is to stick with the major elements of your headcanon, and weaving your writing style in between. Think of the headcanon as your skeleton, and the story being the meat and muscle. Idk if that makes sense, blame my old English teacher for the metaphor

Alrighty, so for demonstration purposes I’m gonna use the very first headcanon I’ve ever written as a basis. Bear with me for a moment:

“Zelink Headcanon: Zelda Just Wants Some Snacks

Everyone always jokes and adores about how Link eats so much and cooks great food in the game (he’s gotta carbo load guys, he walks like 9 miles everyday!)

However I propose, equally hungry and feral Zelda

After Link and Zelda defeat Ganon, one of the first things they do is stop by the nearest cooking pot and eat

She hasn’t eaten for 100 years!! She’s gotta be starving!

Link just cooks up some meat skewers

“…wait I forgot the Goron spice, gimme a sec…”

But Zelda just immediately snatched it off the fire and eats the whole thing in two seconds

Link keeps trying to go out of his way to make really nice food but Zelda is just like “I DON’T CARE RIGHT NOW PLEASE LINK”

So yeah, their first date is basically just Link cooking Zelda a buffet until his inventory empties out”

Again, this headcanon has already given us half of the answers.

We got our plot: Link, a talented chef, is cooking food which Zelda scarfs down without fear and hesitation

Setting: They are by a cooking pot, perhaps in the wilderness, away from the prying eyes of nosey villagers. This takes place sometime after the initial defeat of Calamity Ganon.

Conflict: Link keeps trying to cook “good” food, but despite the Princess’ royal upbringing, she has no care for the whole “show” of cooking with spices and garnish. She is starving, willing to eat anything

And Characters: Link and Zelda. You know... (Today unfortunately is not the day in which I construct a thorough character analysis of the two...perhaps one day...)

So, now that we have this, we start adding the meat and muscle of our story with point of view, tone, style, and theme. These elements, could be summarized as your writing style. Yes, writing style is more intricate than those four elements alone, but they do fit in with its broad definition.

So, in essence, a way to transition between headcanon and fic is to find out what kind of writing style you’re comfortable with.

How do you do that? Well... shocker, I know, you gotta write.

Write first, plan the elements of your one-shot later!!

Allow yourself to write complete utter garbage. I know you said that you don’t wanna create a “fanfic reader’s worst nightmare,” but if you become more concerned with the quality of your content before you even start writing, you will never ever ever get anywhere. You’re gonna be stuck in writer’s block for eternity, so just let the garbage and nightmares out and write. You’ll never improve if you don’t have something to improve from, you feel me?

So, now that your mind is open and ready to write anything, whether garbage or gold, let us dive in to the parts of your writing style.

Point of view: Do you prefer writing in third person? First? Second? Each have their pros and cons. Second person is good for your “x reader” inserts. First person is good for your narrator’s characterization. Third person is good for describing elements of your surroundings that might not be inherently obvious to your characters or audience. There are hundreds of other pros and cons to the different POVs that you can search up online, but it’ is ultimately up to you to decide which method you like best.

When you find the method you like best, make sure you use it to it’s full potential! Use foreshadowing with your third person POVs. Use connotation, and diction to further characterize your narrator in first person. Elevate the mood and senses of a scene when in second person.

Tone: Now, this element is often confused with another literary device, mood. The difference being that you as the author have more control over the tone, than the mood. The tone, is the attitude that you as the author (or as a character/narrator, depending on your POV) have towards something. For example, your tone might be suspenseful if you withhold information from your reader, or if you have a certain choice of diction. It is typically better to look to the type of genre you’re writing for to identify what kind of tone you want.

Mood is the feeling that the reader experiences from your writing. It’s really much more simple, a beloved character dying give a depressed mood. A cute couple hanging out will give the reader a happier mood. This is your angst and fluff feelings, if you will. (Although, please remember than mood and tone are not a binary thing, it is a spectrum, as broad and diverse as the capabilities of human emotion)

Style: Ok yes this is a bit meta, me explaining how to use style to help you construct a writing style. Blame the bendable definitions of the writing world. So just think of this as the face of your writing. The more obvious and apparent part that is unique to you and your personality.

Think cake. Your story is a delicious cake, it is a chocolate, Zelink cake. Now, your style is the way that you present this cake. Pink frosting? Yellow? A full cake or just a slice? Chocolate ice cream cake? Chocolate lava cake? Five tier cake? Cake pops? These possibilities are the infinite ways your style will present the story.

Style, sometimes called voice, is the combination of your use of tone, mood, POV, syntax, diction, and other literary device that you commonly use in your writing. This isn’t something you learn, it’s just something you do naturally when you write. It’s what readers will like about your fics, because they like the way that you use this or that, or the way you describe this thing or that person. It’s something that can change and improve over time, but in essence, it’s what readers can read and identify as you, without even looking at the username.

Style isn’t something you have to remember, per say, like other literary devices, but it is something to be aware of as you should try to keep it consistent through your whole story. Sometimes have people have different writing styles depending on their own mood, or what they’re writing about. That is fine, so long as you keep it consistent through your whole work. A good trick for this is to listen to music that fits with the style of your writing. Use that one catchy love song whenever you’re writing cute headcanons or fluffy one shots. Use that anime opening theme for your adventurous fics and fight scenes. This way, you are keep in a consist atmosphere and your brain will be in the “Oh! It’s time to write ____ stuff!” mood.

So just be aware of when you’re in a descriptive style, a narrative style, argumentative, or whatever style you like using. You style might even derived of the way you already create headcanons!

Theme: This is a big one. Have a cohesive theme can easily bring any story from good to great! I like to think of it as you’re story’s destiny, or reason for existence.

Theme is an outlier for the other elements in that not only is it not necessary for your fic, it is also not necessary for your writing style either. It’s really not necessary... at all. Yet, people always use theme in their writing, even accidentally.

Theme is your story’s underlying message, or lesson. Yes, yes, if you paid attention in your basic English class you probably already knew that, but this is a big pet peeve of mine.

The theme of your story isn’t “true love,” the theme isn’t “innocence”, or “failure”, or “trauma”, or whatever. Theme isn’t a broad idea, it’s a specific question and an answer.

For example: The theme of Breath of the Wild isn’t “exploration” or “time”. The theme is there is always something to seek and find, so long as you have the curiosity and courage to find it. The theme is despite the eternities of time, we still found each other.

Your theme shouldn’t be a broad, one word answer. What about love are you trying to convey? What specifically about failure are you saying?

Theme is the entire reason why the entertainment medium exists, because artist found a way to create something compelling and interesting while also connecting them to real life things.

When you give your reader something to really chew on, even days after they finished reading your fic, then you did a brilliant job. Essentially, you want to use theme in your story because it is what will stick with our readers even years after they’ve read your work.

While that’s all sentimental and sappy, that’s still not your biggest problem, is it? You still need to practice, you still need to learn how to use the things you’ve learned to actually write. So, a summary of what I advise you should do.

Look over and improve your old headcanons, and keep making more! Keep making headcanons and litte prompts, and let them grow bigger and bigger, and more desprictive. This could help you ease into actually writing paragraphs a bit more

Find out what you like to write. Yes, you probably already have a fandom in mind, but think back to those first four elements. What types of plots are you comfortable with, what settings, characters? Genius is only the work of enthusiasm, if you don’t like what you’re going to write, you’ve already failed

Write, write, write. Practice, practice practice. Let yourself write complete and utter garbage and nonesense. Then read it over. See what you don’t like about it. Then change it and write again. I MEAN it when I say you should write garbage. Write a completely terrible, nightmarishly cringe scene. See what you don’t like. Then rewrite it again. Repeat, repeat, repeat. In fact, it doesn’t even have to be a scene or something from your fandom. Let it be your description of a shirt, let is be some cringy poem from 7th grade. Just write and learn how you like to write. It will be so much easier in the long run

Read stuff. The stuff you read usually seeps into how you write. When you get used to reading things a certain way, you usually unconciously try to imitate it when you write. So, got a favourite fic writer? Read their stuff over and maybe even analyze the elements you like (again, think back to those eight elements I talked about) and hey, writers like it when you analyze their stuff so maybe even hit them up and talk? We like book reports we swear, most of us don’t bite.

When you finally think you’re comfortable with your writings, maybe think about what kind of themes you’re into, or what kind of messages you want to say. It doesn’t even need to be that complex. Could be as simple as “I love this ship because it shows that you can still have flaws and be loved” Again, themes are the rEASON for eVERYTHING in the entertainment world

For further demonstration purposes, I’m going to come up with further elements for a hypothetical fic I would write based on that Zelink headcanon. So I’ve got the plot, setting, conflict and theme down. Hmm... I’ll probably use a third person POV as that is what I’m most comfortable with. With third person, I can better highlight the descriptions of Link and Zelda’s surroundings taking in the atmosphere and the aromas and and tastes. The tone will be more happy, focusing on the fun of Zelda and Link’s banter, I’ll try to create a mood in which the reader is laughing along with them, and enjoying the scene. My style will be more descriptive, again with the tastes and smells and other senses of the scene. However, I might go into a more narrative style for Zelda and Link’s banter and dialogue. While typically some people don’t want to use two different styles, I am personally familiar with the styles and know how to write them so as to blend them together more seamlessly. I might have a hint of angst at the end of the fic, as a little climax, given that the setting of the fic is after the defeat of the Calamity. I might through in some themes about how it wasn’t the material power of Hylia or the Master Sword that saved Hyrule, but the courageous and wise bond between Link and Zelda. Then...idk, a little romatic kiss for resolution because this is a fic and I can throw in some fanservice because my writing my rules.

Babam! I just converted a headcanon to a fic.

So yeah, go write your headcanons. Then maybe next a paragraph. Then next a scene, and then you’re well on your way to one-shots and chapter fics. Happy writing and good luck!

#writing #botw #breath of the wild #botw headcanons #zelink

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