#posted as a mess to get under my self-imposed midnight deadline

[cascadedkiwi]

Notes [Comfortember 2023]

Characters: Denki Kaminari x Female OC (Kliome) Manga/Anime: Boku No Hero Academia/My Hero Academia Genre: Comfort (but more fluff, I think) Summary: Kliome leaves little notes for Denki throughout his day. Word Count: 1,243

Prompt 6: Notes

Kliome giggled as she lightly hung off of Denki’s neck in the doorway. “I love you,” she said in a cutesy voice.

Denki grinned down at her, holding his hands up. “I love you, too, cutie, but we gotta go.”

Kliome kissed his nose.

He gave her a helpless smile. “Kliome, come on. I’m actually set to be early to work for once.”

She gave a little pout, setting herself back on her feet. “Are we still on for lunch today?”

“I honestly can’t promise but I’ll do my best. Pray no one decides to make my day interesting?”

“Fingers crossed.” Kliome gave him one last kiss on his cheek before sprinting out to her truck. “Bye! Love you!” She called out the window as she pulled off.

Denki blinked, a confused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He shook his head as he made his way to his car, pausing as he settled into the driver’s seat. A folded paper was tented on the steering wheel. He opened it.

‘Good morning Chargebolt, I hope you have a wonderful day! You deserve it.  Love, your biggest fan.’

He smiled again. The i’s were dotted with little zig-zags for lightning bolts. Kliome could be so precious. 

He arrived at the agency with a spring in his step and a smile on his face. “Share some of that happy with the rest of us,” called a sidekick playfully.

When he went to change into his hero costume, something fell out of his jacket. Another paper, this time yellow.

‘Thank you for all your hard work. We’re all safer with you on the street.’

No i’s for her to dot this time, but she signed the note with a lightning bolt regardless. He couldn’t help but smile again. Even though he was a pro now, the doubts still lingers at the back of his mind, old insecurities following him from his days at U.A. None knew that better than Kliome.

“Fan Mail?”

Denki startled at the voice in his ear, nearly dropping the note. He whipped around to see Hakurei snickering into the high collar of his jacket. “Moody!”

“You were watching that note pretty intensely.” Hakurei raised an eyebrow and Denki had to remind himself that this guy was only half a decade older than he was.

Denki shoved it into his bag in his locker. “It’s from Kliome.”

Hakurei’s smile grew. “Nothing like sweet words from your soulmate to send you into battle, huh?” He merely huffed a knowing laugh at the red that climbed Denki’s face.

Patrol had been uneventful until two guys decided that Denki needed to get his blood pumping. What started as an antique store heist turned into a foot chase that attracted a gang of known troublemakers just looking for a reason to show off their quirks. It only escalated from there, introducing multiple stolen cars and a giant of a girl with a projectile-type quirk way too similar to Bakugo’s. He definitely wasn’t making it to lunch.

It took them four hours to get the situation under control. Denki looked up as a firm hand gripped his shoulder. He gave Hakurei a wry smile. 

“Need a mood boost?” Hakurei offered, looking a bit worse for wear himself.

Denki shook his head, pushing his hair from his face. “Nah, thanks man. Looks like you need to use your quirk on yourself.”

“If only I could.” Hakurei stumbled, giving Denki a grateful look for not letting him hit the broken pavement.

A pair of paramedics came to check them over, taking Hakurei away in an ambulance. 

Denki plopped down on the sidewalk, catching his breath while waiting to be collected to go back to the agency. The paperwork was gonna be a doozy for this one. He pulled his phone from his breast pocket under his t-shirt. His message app was loaded with notifications, but Kliome’s chat - pinned to the top - was lit up with a tiny "1" in the colored circle. 

‘I heard some jerks decided to make your day interesting, ^^’. Don’t worry about lunch. We’ll make up for it later. I know you fought hard and well. I’m proud of you. And proud to be yours. :P PLEASE go to the hospital, Chargebolt. Even if you think you’re fine. I’ll be mad if you don’t >:(   I wuv you <3'

His lips pulled up to one side and he reread the message again before typing out a response, hitting send just as a set of footsteps approached him. It was time to get back to base. 

Denki was in the camp of agency employees that started paperwork at the earliest opportunity. Mainly so he could get as much as he could down while it was still fresh in his thankfully unscrambled brain. 

A quick shower and change of clothes later, Denki was making his way to his desk. Upon approach, he noticed a container set next to the thick folder waiting for his write up. Taped to the top was a blue paper folded in the shape of a star. He sat down before unfolding it.

‘Yes, I made this. Yes, it’s a salad. You know my salads are never lacking. Hope it can comfortably tide you over until you get off. You deserve every piece of chicken and shrimp in this bowl.

P.S. Eat every legume. Every single one.’

He carefully popped off the lid, taking in the colorful and weighty meal. She had stripped the lettuce, fried the chicken and the shrimp, and he counted three different kinds of beans, chickpeas, and pigeon peas, all tossed in a dressing he couldn't identify. It honestly looked like filling for her homemade naan or a tortilla.

Thankfully, he didn't have to leave the agency building for the rest of his shift so he was actually able to finish all the preliminary paperwork. The drive home was a careful one. He had a medical all-clear but was still sore all over. A fortunate coincidence that he was scheduled off tomorrow. Not so fortunate was that Kliome wouldn't be able to spend the day with him, but he reminded himself yet again that he would, in fact, not perish from Kliome-deficiency over the course of a 24-hour period. 

A pink note greeted him at eye-level on the front door. 

'Good work today, Chargebolt. Rest well.'

He took it inside. His face squinched in confusion at the mess that greeted him. Well, not exactly a mess. But there were folded papers on every surface. Every seat in the living room. The coffee table, the TV stand, the dining table… every chair had a paper folded over the back and one in the center of the seat. The kitchen island, the counters, the microwave, the fridge, even the pile of clean dishes in the drainer and the sink faucet. 

How long had she been planning this?

The bathroom was in a similar state. Folded papers of varying colours on the closed toilet seat, the toilet tank, their - dry - towels, taped to the back of the door... 

On to the bedroom, then. Spotless. Had she run out? He walked in to see their dresser. The mirror was completely outlined in post-its.

He sat on the bed. His phone went off in his pocket.

Good night, my electric love. I landed safely. Bet you won't find them all before I get back. :P

He smiled. He couldn't love this woman enough.

A/N: She also put a note in at least one pocket of all his clothes in their shared closet. He'll be finding them for months.

[brightingales]

hi 👋 my prompt is jarry has broken up and romeo schemes a way to get them back together because he sees how miserable they are apart

Oh wow, this has been sitting in my inbox for ages… sorry! Hope you like it!

Posted for @happyjarryholidays Day 5: Alone – “Lonely this Christmas”

“I thought big, important, ‘hot-shot’ lawyers were meant tohave their lives together,” Romeo says, looking at the state of the flat with aderisive curl of his lip, “but I can see that you are just as pathetic as therest of us mere mortals.”

It’s clear from his joking tone of voice that Romeo doesn’tmean it as a slight against him. Still, James almost certainly would have takenan insult like that completely the wrong way just a short while ago. But now,after a few weeks and a lot of emotional work, he can recognize Romeo’s acerbicsense of humour for what it is – Romeo hides his own faults by pointing outother people’s and expresses his affection through gentle teasing just in casehis feelings are not reciprocated.

Christ, James is even starting to sound like his son and hiscod-psychology now…

“Are you here to say anything useful or did you just come totake the mick out of your poor old Dad?” James says, giving as good as he gets.He wraps his silk dressing gown tighter around himself, throws himself onto thesofa (with perhaps a little too much ‘dramatic effect’) and goes back to thecoffee he was drinking before Romeo showed up at his door.

He pretends not to notice the fact that the mug is dirty.Everything is, really. There is a pile of dishes in the sink and dust liningthe bookshelves. A stack of newspapers lies discarded on the living room floorand his curtains haven’t been drawn for a week.

Romeo steps around the mess and sits down on the arm of thesofa, fixing James with a look halfway between pity and exasperation.

“Look, I know this Christmas didn’t exactly turn out the wayyou wanted it too…”

An understatement; James had once foolishly entertaineddreams of spending Christmas curled up on this same sofa with Harry safe andwarm in his arms. Instead, he had spentthe whole day utterly alone, looking at the empty four walls of his flat, his fingershovering over Harry’s number in his phone as he warred with himself aboutwhether to call his former lover or not.

“… but you can’t just sit here and mope forever,” Romeocontinues. “It’s starting to get a bit ridiculous. You’ve become the livingembodiment of the most depressing Christmas song ever.” Romeo’s smile issympathetic, but there is also a hint of concern behind his eyes. It’s that,more than anything else, that makes James finally sit up and take note.

“Things really are dire if I’m being told off for beinglovelorn by a teenager,” James says. It’s surprising but bantering with his sonhas come fairly naturally to him. “A teenager named Romeo, no less…”

James pulls himself off the sofa and downs the coffee in hismug, grimacing as he finds that it has gone cold.

“What do you propose I do?” James asks.

“We should clean up, first. Then coffee. And then, you’regoing to come to the New Year’s party that Prince and Lilly are hosting at TheDog…”

James opens his mouth to protest but Romeo doesn’t let himget a word in.

“…I’m not taking no for an answer. You need to get out thereand show the village that you’ve not been totally crushed. You’re JamesNightingale! You’re better than this,” Romeo finishes with a sigh, gesturing atthe state of both the flat and James.  

He knows Romeo is right, but that still doesn’t mean thatJames wants to hang out with a bunch of adolescents.

Still, it’s not like he has anything better to do.

“Since it’s your idea you can get started while I take ashower,” James tells Romeo. “Cleaning stuff is under the sink. I’m sure you canfigure it out.”

“Fine, but I’m putting some music on and I’m choosing the playlist!”

…

It takes them nearly the whole afternoon. James had brieflyworried that being trapped in his flat with Romeo with nothing to do but cleanand talk would be torture but it’s actually been very nice to sort his life outwhile not being totally alone. Romeo’s playlist is full of classic and indierock, and while James would never have picked the songs himself the thrum ofguitars and beat of the drums motivates him to finish the work.

His mind is pleasantly occupied in a way that it hasn’t beenfor weeks. Even when his thoughts inevitably drift towards Harry his heartturns to fondness rather than to bitterness, as it has done ever since Harryleft. He can’t help but wonder where Harry is, what he’s doing, who he is with.And he will always worry that Harry is safe.

But while these thoughts had previously been tinged withresentment, now they taste like guilt and longing. It’s not better. It’s noteasier. But it’s not worse. And every time James is at risk of spiralling downinto morose thoughts, Romeo is there to distract him with something new toclean or a level of small talk just the right side of tolerable.  

The conversation ebbs and flows between them, unforced and natural as if he and Romeo have known eachother for far longer than they actually have. They talk about Romeo’sChristmas, his plans for the new year, what sort of job he would like. Until a moment when the subject turns to Romeo’slove life and Romeo shuts down. Clearly, it’s a sensitive topic. James filesthe knowledge away for later use, already planning to return the favour andhelp Romeo out if and when he needs it.

After all, they’re family.

…

They reward themselves with coffee from The Bean, thethought of something caffeinated and sweet having motivated them both throughthe worst tasks of the day. When James returns to the flat, he has to concedethat the effort was worth it. The place is cleaner than it has been for months.He’d even taken on some tasks he thought he would never get around to; his filing cabinet has been reorganised, he’s hungsome new art on the wall, and even moved some furniture around.

A new place for a new year.

He wonders if Harry would notice the changes…

Yes, the cleaning helped, but he still can’t escape thoughtsof Harry sneaking up on him. With this realisation, James decides that he hasto keep his word to Rome and go to the party. Clearly, he still needs to bedistracted.

He makes himself a promise – if he can get through the night without losing his senses to thoughts of blonde hairand tanned skin then he’ll finally let Harry go. The countdown to midnight willbe his self-imposed deadline and he’llstart the new year without the weight of lost love pressing down on his shoulders.

It’s as good a plan as any he has come up with lately…

…

The party is not as awful as he had expected. It’s stillpretty dire – any party organised by the McQueens is – but even James has toadmit that it’s better than staying in.

Mercedes hands him a glassof bubbly as he gravitates to where all the adults are congregated at the bar,out of the way of the flailing limbs on the makeshift dance floor in thecorner. He makes small talk and, for a while, things seem almost normal. Or atleast, as normal as they can be with everyone treating him with the sort ofgentleness and concern normally reserved for people the villagers actuallylike.

Romeo bounds over at one point, cheeks flushed with drinkand face split with a wide grin. James just about manages to stop his son fromdragging him on to the dancefloor:

“Look, I’m making friends, I’m playing nice. No one heredeserves to be traumatised by the sight of me ‘dancing’!”

“I bet Harry wouldn’t say that!” Romeo says.

He immediately clasps his hand over his mouth. James triesto school his face into an expression that isn’t one of absolute devastation asRomeo starts to apologise.

“It’s fine. It’s ok,” James reassures his son. “I’m going tohave to go through life with people mentioning him. I can’t run away from thisforever.”

“Still, I’m sorry.”

It must be the drink – because the next thing either of themknows James has reached out and wrapped Romeo up in the world’s most awkwardone-armed hug.

They stand there, neither of them really sure what to do.

“Okay?” Romeo asks quietly, muffling his voice in James’sshoulder.

“Yep,” James replies. “I should let go now right?”

He means the hug.

Definitely. That’s what he means.

When he and Romeo part, James goes back to the bar andavoids making eye contact with anyone. But when he does find it within himselfto finally look up, Nancy is watching him out of the corner of her eye as ifshe is amazed that the great James Nightingale is actually capable of feelinghuman emotion.

He does so love proving people wrong. But right now, he regretsthat he can’t hold on to his usual façade.  

…

Romeo disappears off for a while and for some strange reasonJames can’t bring himself to leave the party without saying goodbye to himfirst. By the time that he does the countdown to midnight is only a few minutesaway. Romeo tries to persuade him to stay, but James demurs. Something withinhim knows that he needs to see in this new year on his own; to grieve the yearlast past in his own private way.

Romeo seems to understand. James is honestly so grateful tohave a family member so perceptive. And he is grateful that he waited to saygoodbye because Romeo tells him that James had dropped his keys and he hadfound them outside. He doesn’t ask what Romeo was doing leaving the party. Hecan guess that it has something to do with that disastrous love life of his andJames doesn’t want to push him on that front. Romeo will tell him all about it whenhe’s ready.

When James returns to the flat the lights are on. He andRomeo must have left them like that by accident. The wasted electricity is apain, but it’s strangely nice to return to a palace that’s not completelyshrouded in darkness.

He enjoys the work he and Romeo have done for a little while, looking at all the changes they hadmade together. Now that his flat has been organised James feels a little moreprepared to organise his life – to recalibrate himself so that he is back atthe centre of his own universe, rather than Harry forming the axis on which hisworld turns.

He should toast the new year with the bottle of champagne hekeeps in the fridge for emergencies.

In the kitchen, there is an unwashed mug in the sink thatwasn’t there when he and Romeo left.

“James…”

The voice comes from behind him. He doesn’t even have towonder who it is. No one else has a voice that can touch his soul so acutely.

He turns.

Harry looks good. Of course, he does. But it’s not just aphysical thing – though the tan and the haircut are definitely working for him– it’s something about the way he cries himself. There is a confidence in himnow that is so far away from the scared and uncertain boy James had last seenin this flat.

The Harry before him now is a man.

“James. I’m…”

James crosses the space between them in two large strides,grips Harry by the shoulders, and pulls him close so that they can finally,after so many weeks of longing, kiss.

Harry’s shocked into stillness for a few seconds and Jamespresses against him. But then he melts, wonderfully, deliciously, into James’stouch. It’s been too long, but their bodies remember each other.

It’s Harry who breaks the kiss.

“James…”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupts.

Harry’s face crinkles adorably in confusion. “That’s myline.”

“I don’t care. You’re back. Never leave me again.” Eachsentence is punctuated with a kiss.

“You threw me out.”

“I’m an idiot. I was wrong. I’m so sorry, Harry.”

There is more kissing as James pushes Harry towards the sofa.He feels dizzy and weak at the knees. He needs something solid to lean against orhe might faint. But more than that – he has a desperate and unshakable need tofeel all of Harry pressed up against him. Harry apparently feels the same way,if his awkward attempts to wrestle James out of his jumper are anything to goby.

They pull apart for a moment so that they can move theiroffending clothes.

“How did you get here?” James suddenly remembers to ask.

“Romeo,” Harry admits. “He stole my number from your phone.Took your keys out of your pocket and let me in. Don’t be mad at him.”

“I’m not,” James says sincerely, “he gave you back to me.Best Christmas present ever.”

“It’s New Year’s,” Harry points out. “I wanted to come backsooner. I just… I needed time… I wasn’t sure…”

“And are you sure now?”

“More than I’ve everbeen of anything in my life. I love you, James.”

James presses his own ‘I love you’ to Harry’s lips. And asthey fall to kissing once more, in the distance a bell begins to chime.

“Kissing at midnight on New Year,” James points out. “Youknow what this means? We have to stay together now, for the whole year.”

“I think I can managethat,” Harry replies with a grin.