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mypimpademia · 8 months

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— Croissants, Cookies, & Coffee

Pro Hero! Bakugo x Cafe Worker! Black! Fem! Reader

Synopsis: Jagged edged pro hero Dynamight begins to show up to his local cafe just a little too much.

TW: Swearing

“Next in line, please,”

Customers and passerby’s gawked a the man you only smiled politely at. His tall, hulking figure towered over everyone, sticking out like a sore thumb, and his reputation did nothing to help the attention. He seemed tense about it all, the prolonged stares irritating him to no end. But seeing you unfazed, warm lights glowing on your brownskin, gave him some sort of grounding.

“Good afternoon Mr. Dynamight. Should I ring up your usual, or would you like to try one of our new items?” The words fell off your glossed lips so casually, as if you weren’t speaking to the most powerful man in Japan.

“Don’t call me that,” he snarled. “It’s policy,” you said in unison with him, his eyes rolling in annoyance as he kissed his teeth.

“I don’t give a shit about policy, you know what to call me,” he told you, before humming in thought. “I’ll try that fuckin’ peach shit, but only if you make it for me.”

“One pretty peach refresher,” you said, smiling whilst typing the order into the screen in front of you. “What size?”

“Large, and that’ll be all,” he said, reaching into his pockets for his wallet as he mumbled to himself. “Fuckin’ pretty peach refresher, who the fuck comes up with these names?”

You stifled a laugh, lips curling inward. He swiped his card on the reader before you could even tell him the price, huffing as he put his wallet away.

“Thank you, I’ll bring your order over as soon as it’s done,” you chimed.

Swapping places with one of your coworkers, you took on drinks for the moment. To anyone who didn’t know better, you were only doing this because if someone like the explosive pro hero Dynamight says, you do. And in a way, they weren’t wrong.

But your drinks are the only ones he’ll take. Hell, that’s the only time he takes anything, even the pre made baked goods, anything else gets sent back. Your coworkers were convinced your quirk had some magical touch aspect to it. How the hell could he tell if a cappuccino was made by you or not?

A scoop of ice, a cup of dehydrated peach, a cup of peach juice, some water, and a blend later, his order was ready. As you approached, his attention was turned towards the window, simply watching as people and cars passed.

“Katsuki,” you uttered, handing the drink over. “Enjoy your pretty peach refresher.”

Your emphasis on the three words made him roll his eyes again, but you didn’t miss the smile he covered with his cup as he took a sip.

For months, that’s how your interactions went. If you ever asked Katsuki why he progressed passed this in the manner he did, he’d be far to ashamed to say.

Sure, he made nearly daily visits, sometimes coming twice a day. Once in the morning, and then again on the way back home. But his visits soon became erratic, as if he was going for reasons he didn’t want anyone to know.

“Good morning, Katsuki,” you hummed, placing his plate in front of him. “One eggs, ham, and cheese croissant sandwich for you.”

You walked away too fast to see it, only focused on getting through the morning rush of people. Had you stayed a second longer, you’d have caught him watching the morning sun illuminate your features.

That was his first visit of the day. You knew he’d be back soon, as he’d been coming more frequently, just not as soon as he did.

“Since when did you guys have cookies?” The blond asked, nodding over to the display of baked goods.

“Always,” you told him. “I can ring them up for you if you wanna try?”

“Only if you bring them to me,” he smirked.

The aroma of warm chocolate chip cookies had you salivating as you walked them over to his usual window booth. You needed to remind yourself to steal some before clocking out.

“Here are your cookies. And this is your second time back in,” you checked the clock. “Six hours? You beat your record from last time.”

“Yeah?” Katsuki asked, fake surprised at his own timing as he bit into a cookie, humming in satisfaction.

“Yeah,” you smirked, running your hand over pulled back coils to make sure your hair was still neatly in its bun. “Were you hungry or did you just miss me?”

You were standing just feet away from him, and even now he missed you.

“Fucking starving,” he teased, making you kiss your teeth. “You just happen to make all the shit I like.”

You raised your eyebrow in amusement, bearing your teeth in a glossy lipped smile.

“Oh? Like the cookies I only put onto a plate for you?” You asked, pointing to the now empty plate.

“It’s just different when you put it on a plate,” he shrugged.

“Right, right,” you nodded. “Gotta get back to work, but I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Katsuki came back just two hours later.

“Y’know, I was joking before, but this is getting concerning,” you huffed, placing the mug of coffee onto the table. “This is your third time back, and you were here just two hours ago. And who orders coffee at noon?”

Unbotheredly, he takes a sip from his coffee and says nothing.

“I know you hear me,” you huffed.

You folded your arms over your chest, annoyed that he wouldn’t give you a straight answer. Something was obviously bothersome him, and he was itching to get it off his chest.

“Don’t get me mad on shift Katsuki,” you said sternly. “What’s actually going on.”

“Honestly? I just missed you,” he shrugged.

You were just ready to go off on him, but he sounded so genuine that you held your tongue. This was far from your usual dynamic, and the sudden shift had you at a loss for words

“You free after work?”

—

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soleilandpeaches · 11 months

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featuring: Hawks/KeigoTakamixF!Reader warnings: f!reader, 18+ (MDNI), smut, unprotected sex, bath sex, dom!-sub!reader, sub-dom!hawks, teasing, cursing, petnames

Daydreaming about being curled up with Keigo all day, barely leaving the comfort of your shared bed. Your limbs tangled together as if you’re attempting to form into one. You’d order in or maybe even cook together as you binge your favorite T.V. shows. He’d spoil you with massages, kisses, and sweet-sweet nothings.

You’d bathe together, blowing bubbles at one another and you wash down each of your bodies, sneaking smooches in between every loving caress and gentle stoke. He’d hoist you up and into his lap, adoring you with his love-filled eyes of awe as he guides you down onto his cock. You’d both moan in unison as you wrap your arms around his neck, toying with his golden strands of hair.

You’re kissing his lips raw as you circle your hips sensually, reveling in your ability to have him melting underneath you. He’d sing your name so sweetly, his voice breathy and high-pitched. Though to your dismay, his submission doesn’t last long before he’s gripping you by your hips to force you down onto his length. He’s bending his knees upwards to add leverage to his impatient thrusts.

“Keigo…” You moan in pleasure and disappointment. Pinching his cheek to grab his attention, you send him a glare as you force your pelvis onto him.

“You’re going to get water everywhere, Honey.” You lecture, taking his hands in yours before intertwining your fingers together. You pick up your once slow and steady pace, rolling your hips with each rise-and-fall.

“Let’s just take it slow, hm?” You suggest with an added moan followed by a pleased: fuck yes when you feel him twitch inside you.

“Fu-fuck, Baby—slow isn’t exactly what I’m—hah—known for.” He comments, causing you to roll your eyes. You bring your face level with his, his smug grin has you fighting back the urge to smack it off of him. Instead, you continue your pace, except for the extra force you drive into his matched thrusts. You watched with glee and a self-satisfied giggle as his head tosses back against the rim of the tub, his lips parted to let his keens of pleasure escape.

You nibble along his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing in response as he sucks in air between his teeth.

“You can take it, can’t you, Pretty bird?” You sultrily whisper in his ear before taking it between your teeth, tugging when you don’t hear an immediate response.

You press your hand against his lower stomach, feeling as it contracts as his thrust become uncoordinated, sloppily meeting yours. And as he begins to sputter his response, you take one of his nipples in between your fingers to pinch. He arches his chest into your hand, his whine cutting off whatever he was about to say. Though you cease to relent in your torture.

“Hmm?” You hum against the juncture of his neck and shoulder, nuzzling your nose affectionately, pretending you’re not torturing the poor man. You take the soft skin into your mouth, sucking a hickey into his neck as if to stake your claim.

Once satisfied, you pull away and take his hair into your other hand, grasping his head upwards to meet your gaze.

“Please…” He groans, fighting the urge to look away from your stare. You fight back a laugh as you take in his—rather beautiful—state: his sun-kissed face flushed red down to his chest as his eyes plead with nothing but pathetic desperation.

“Please what?” You taunt, slowing your pace and giggling at his dramatic growl in frustration. But your enthusiasm quickly disappears after he hoists you up into his arms and out of the bath. He says nothing as he bends you over the counter, splaying his hands across your back to force you into an arch.

You watch from the mirror as his feather drains the tub, yet when your eyes flicker back to Keigo’s face, you have nothing but his displeased attention. He meets your gaze through the mirror as his once cocky smirk returned to his stupidly handsome face.

“Gonna fuck you slow and steady just like you want, Princess.” He spits the nickname out like it’s poison, though you know deep now he doesn’t really mean it.

“But you’re gonna beg for it first.”

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wisteria-cherry · 9 months

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forty days and forty nights (day six!)

(it’s a shorter one this time🕳️🎢 i promise it’ll be worth it tomorrow~)

(read them all here!)

you found yourself growing excited every time the clock struck 4:56 pm and the little bells on the door of the cafe jingled. it was a sense of pride for you, too; a subtle reminder that you got to serve coffee to and talk with the number one hero in all of japan.

dynamight.

what a dorky name.

“oi, anybody home?” dynamight snapped annoyedly. oh, right. he’s actually here. you quickly look up at him (really looking up. he must be around 6’4).

“sorry, sorry. the usual?” you ask.

“obviously.” dynamight scoffs as you ring him up. he pays (credit card. that’s new.) and goes to sit as you immediately begin making his coffee. you pour the dark roast into the mug and set it down in front of dynamight.

“so, dynamight.”

“whaddaya want?” he asks gruffly as he takes a sip.

“no, like, dynamight.” you clarify. “your name. what brought it about?”

“i have an explosion quirk, dumbass. dynamight blows up. see the correlation, or do i have to spell that out too?” dynamight rolled his eyes.

“but it’s spelled different,” you point out. dynamight falls silent, busying himself with his coffee. you try to think about why he’d name himself dynamight and not simply dynamite. might. what would might signify? a symbol of pure strength?

a symbol.

a symbol of peace.

“hold on..” you say slowly, putting two and two together. “dynamight. all might. you don’t mean to say…”

“shut up, dammit!” dynamight barked, the tips of his ears turning pink. you snicker.

“so i’m right.”

“i never said that!”

“i totally am.”

“shut the fuck up!”

“my lips are sealed.”

“obviously not, if you’re running your damn mouth like this!”

you simply laugh, finding the whole exchange extremely entertaining. it takes a few minutes to calm down, but you figure it out.

“so, you like all might?”

“got a problem with it?” dynamight glared.

“nope. i like him, too.” you smile. “he’s incredible.”

“i’m gonna surpass him.” dynamight grunted. “i’ll do it.”

“and i’ll be right here, ready with your medium black coffee.” you replied, half teasing, half serious.

“good. otherwise i’m gonna kill those goddamn sidekicks of mine.”

“tell me more about them.” you say suddenly.

“hah? why?” dynamight narrowed his eyes. you smiled again. the way he said “hah” whenever he was confused— it was kind of endearing.

“‘cuz i’m curious.” you shrug. “you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“yeah, well, if i don’t, you’ll be annoying as shit about it.” dynamight scoffed. “but i’ve got a ton of ‘em. i’m not giving you information on every damn one. i’ll be here all night.”

“heroes need their beauty sleep.” you agree solemnly. “tell me about the one you mentioned, the one with the bad stamina. what’s his name?”

“i don’t know.” dynamight stated bluntly. you blink.

“you don’t know?” you repeat.

“yeah.”

“so then what do you call him?” you ask, completely dumbstruck that he forgot the name of a person he works with daily.

“dumbass. idiot. slowpoke. nerd.” dynamight listed off. how did he remember the nicknames but not the names?

“okay, okay, so you don’t know his name, got it. what’s his quirk?”

“he’s quirkless.” dynamight stated. his tone seemed off, but you had trouble finding the proper word for it. defensive, maybe? stiff?

“he’s quirkless?”

“yeah. but he’s smart as hell. reminds me of-“ dynamight cut himself off.

“reminds you of what?” you push gently.

“none of your goddamn business.” he instantly shot back.

“well, it’s incredible that a quirkless person could become a hero.” you muse. “times have changed, huh?”

“he went through hell and back tryna become one.” dynamight grunted, sipping his coffee aggressively (how did he manage to make sipping aggressive?). “he’s got my respect for that.”

“and you don’t know his name.” you tease. “a much respected sidekick indeed.”

“tch, shut up.” dynamight rolled his eyes.

“you call me dumbass, too, do you know my name?” you prod. dynamight stiffens, and you burst out laughing.

“oi, it’s not my damn fault you never told me!” he barked. you cover your mouth, not wanting to disturb other customers, but your shoulders still shook madly until you managed to catch your breath.

“okay, okay, that’s on me.” you gasp out. “you’re right. i never told you.”

“damn straight i’m right.” scoffed the hero.

“well, my name is (y/n) (l/n). it’s nice to meet you, dynamight.”

“yeah, good for you.” dynamight rolled his eyes. “i’m still calling you dumbass.” he stood up. he was done his coffee already. you found yourself ever so slightly disappointed; today’s conversation was thoroughly entertaining, and you found out a lot about dynamight.

“leaving already?” you ask with a smile.

“yeah. don’t miss me too much.” dynamight smirked.

“i’ll do my best.” you wave as he makes his way to the door. he pauses before giving a brief wave back.

“so, you like all might?”

“got a problem with it?”

<- previous next->

(feel free to comment + leave ur thoughts :)

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pleathewrites · 1 month

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bellow the fire into my deadened lungs

chapter 1 excerpt — what are your thoughts on child abuse? + burncare read full story here

September

Meeting semi-regularly with Hawks has been… ‘Strange,’ Dabi thinks.

The Number Two’s got a bad temper, hates being out of the loop, and hates it more when Dabi can’t be bothered to spare more than a few words at him. Dabi mostly makes Hawks do small jobs — gather bits of mild information and tail certain lower-ranked heroes. Dabi doesn’t ask for any top secrets because he has a feeling Hawks would only feed him lies. ‘Why?’ Because that’s what Dabi does.

But the Bird has interesting thoughts.

Dabi will admit — seeing Hawks’ speech during the Hero Ranking ceremony was wildly entertaining. Dabi assumed the hero had a flair for the dramatic, but he never thought the guy would be so bold to make such a scene on national live television.

“Who’s gonna be happy hearing that? Stain?”

Dabi remembers Spinner’s spit-take at Hawks’ interruption of Edgeshot trying to seem oh, so humble.

“You don’t think we need to change how we do things?... Why are those less accomplished than me playing it safe?”

Dabi remembers the way Toga’s eyes sparkled, the way even Shigaraki started to tilt his head in consideration. Dabi thinks the raining feathers were a bit over the top since the guy was already fucking floating, but he’ll admit it was a nice touch.

But his favorite — “Now, go ahead, Number One Hero, with a lower approval rating than me.”

Dabi actually let out a snort, at that one.

It’s been a few weeks since that broadcast, but ever since, Dabi’s interest in the hero has been considerably piqued.

He sent Hawks a set of coordinates and a time to meet about an hour ago. He’s late himself, but only by thirty minutes, and, well, he’s a villain.

He immediately spots the stupid little bird because, in an industrial town full of grey, that stupid yellow suit is an absolute eyesore.

“You don’t own any other clothes, Hero?”

Back turned, with only crimson wings in his view, Dabi hoped the guy would have jumped. Dabi’s been told he can be as quiet as a ghost, but then he remembers Hawks telling him something about telepathic feathers and sound vibration.

“Dabi!” Hawks twirls halfway with that stupid grin of his, “You’re actually early. For you.”

“Say my name louder, would you. Might as well dial up the Commission right now and let ‘em know you turned, while you’re at it,” The words are worried, but Dabi’s tone stays neutral because they both know the Commission is already informed about every single one of their meetings. It’s just Hawks who thinks Dabi’s dumb as rocks.

“We’re in a literal alleyway in one of the sketchiest towns in Japan, dude.”

“Tch,” Dabi’s nose scrunches in a sneer, ‘Of course he’d consider this town to be sketchy, just because it’s a little run down.’

Hawks scratches at the back of his head, “Though, I guess you got a point. I — uh, heh, I didn’t have time to change. Patrol and all.”

Dabi deadpans, “You can spare ten minutes. It’s not gonna kill you,” and Hawks still looks weirdly apologetic so he adds on, “Birdy, you’re acting like I’m the one who’s gonna be waitin’ up on you. Has that been the trend, so far?”

“You know, now that you bring it up…” And Dabi just thinks, ‘oh, Gods, no,’ while Hawks puts a gloved finger to his chin, “Why are you always late?”

Dabi doesn’t answer.

Hawks puts his hands up in mock surrender, “Alright, fine. Be mysterious, whatever,” Then clasps his hands behind his back. Dabi thinks that’ll be the end of that, but Hawks loves the sound of his own voice too much, “You villains are so dramatic.”

Dabi gapes, and lays his hand over his chest in offense, “I’m dramatic?” He scoffs — he cannot stand half the shit that comes out of this smart-ass’s mouth. His hand leaves his chest to point at the Number Two, “This coming from the guy that not only interrupted a rank ceremony but made it rain feathers while he did it? Braggin’ about his own approval rating while floating in the fuckin’ air?”

And — ‘oh shit’ — Dabi should have kept his mouth shut.

Because he sees the bastard’s golden eyes fucking gleam, and crimson feathers ruffle, “Eh? You keepin’ tabs on me, Hot Stuff?” and he starts to lean in, close enough for Dabi to feel the need to reel back, his nose a mere inch away from Dabi’s own, “Ya like watchin’ me?” Pale eyelashes flutter.

Dabi’s had enough.

He hears a muffled ‘oomph!’ as his scarred hand pushes Hawks’ face away, “Don’t fuckin’ flatter yourself, the ceremony was national news.”

Hawks pulls back and laughs a little. It’s a breathy sound, almost a rumble with how deep the guy’s voice is, but it’s always quiet. Tired.

Dabi’s stomach chooses that moment to let out a loud and horrifying grumble.

Hawks’ bushy eyebrow lifts in question, and Dabi can feel the blood gather in his cheeks, humiliation warming his usually cool skin.

“So, there is a reason you look like a bag of bones,” Hawks says.

Dabi knows the guy is trying to be cheeky, but it hits harder than intended because, ‘Yeah, I haven’t eaten all fuckin’ day,’ and the only thing he does remember eating is cheap instant udon, yesterday. He put a boiled egg in it for protein, but that stuff only goes so far.

Luckily, Hawks continues without needing a response from Dabi, “C’mon, I’m hungry, too, and I saw a chicken place around here. On me, the place is probably cheap, anyway, considering,” and waves his hand around broadly, referring to their current location.

Usually, this is the part where ‘Person B’ says something like, ‘I don’t need your charity!’ but Dabi isn’t prideful enough to deny free sustenance, especially since he can’t even remember the last time he ate real meat.

So, he shrugs, “Lead the way. But first, button up your fuckin’ jacket and take off your glasses, for fuck’s sake. I know you can move your feathers, so — I dunno, move ‘em under your jacket, or somethin’. Hide them.”

And Hawks actually has the audacity to pout, “I hate compressing my wings.”

“Gods,” Dabi groans to the sky, “It’s just for the walk there.”

After grumbling some more, mostly to himself, Hawks relents and leads the way to a mostly empty chicken shop with neon signs and shiny wooden floors. They sit in a booth at the farthest corner, and order.

Hawks is somewhat right — food is cheap in a town like this. Dabi’s not well-versed in all things economics, but he knows an underfunded town is a wanted-villain’s safest haven. The residents of such towns rarely call for police — police mean heroes, and heroes mean collateral damage; the residents of this town already struggle to make ends meet with their healthy bodies and standing businesses. One bad fight can end in dozens of collapsed buildings, and an overflow of the nearest already-at-capacity hospital.

‘As long as you don’t cause too much trouble, the residents here won’t even bat an eye at you, no matter how wanted you are.’

Dabi takes off his facemask and hood when their food is served, and Hawks lets his wings out with a ruffle. The hero begins to dig in, but his gloves stay on.

“Isn’t this cannibalism, for you?”

The previous expression of excitement on Hawks’ face drops, “Ha ha. You’re so clever. I’ve never heard that one before.”

“Fuck off.”

“No, seriously, you should be a comedian.”

“Go to hell. It was actually a semi-serious question.”

A smile quirks at the corner of Hawks’ lips, “Just let me eat in peace, man.”

And so, they eat for a bit, mostly in silence, until Dabi decides the silence feels suffocating. Hawks isn’t asking any questions, not his usual, ‘so whaddya got for me, today?’ and it leaves Dabi with his own thoughts.

After finishing about half his plate, Dabi finally asks what’s been on his mind since watching the Bird on television.

“What are your thoughts on child abuse?”

Hawks freezes, a chicken piece halfway through his open mouth when he looks up at Dabi, muffling out, “What?”

Dabi lets his chin rest on his palm, curling his greasy fingers inwards to avoid his seams, “Humor me, Hero. Got a penny if ya need one.”

Hawks swallows and puts down his fork — ‘eating chicken wings with fuckin’ utensils, what a priss.’

“Uh, gonna need a little bit more context here, man…”

He looks so wary.

Dabi sighs and spells it out for the dumb bird, “What would you do, as a hero, if you received a report of child abuse?”

Hawks takes a moment, scratching at his goatee, “Well, investigate, then hopefully make an arrest,” He shrugs, “Abusers should be jailed. I dunno what you want from me beyond that. Random question, dude.”

Dabi, more or less, ignores the confusion in Hawks’ eyes, but he does take note of how Hawks hasn’t continued eating. The hero is sat back, waiting for Dabi to provide the clearly missing context.

Dabi has to know what kind of person he’s dealing with, because meeting Hawks this past month and seeing his actions on live television make Dabi… tentatively hopeful — about what, he’s not sure, but Dabi doesn’t like surprises, so he has to ask.

“Mm. But, what if that same abuser shows kindness to everyone else, outside those few people?”

At that, Hawks lets out a scoff, “It’s usually an act, man. Why are you asking me this? I mean, like, yes, yeah it doesn’t matter if they treat others differently. Doesn’t make up for what they’re doing, the people they’re hurting.”

“Uh-huh,” Dabi’s eyes never leave Hawks’ face, noting the expressive curl of blonde eyebrows, bushed up in earnest to match his glinting frown, “And if other people are, say, ‘counting on them’?”

Those blond eyebrows furrow closer, wild hairs almost touching, “What do you mean?”

Dabi tilts his head away from the palm it rests on and unfurls those fingers one-by-one to count off, “World leaders, presidents, peace figures.... heroes,” and even Dabi knows his voice took a sharp turn at the last item, and he doubts Hawks had missed it.

“I… No, no, it’s still wrong. It’s complicated, yeah, but... it doesn’t matter how much good someone does if that same person is going off to abuse someone else. Especially their own family.”

Dabi doesn’t know why, but hearing that come from a hero does something to him, speaks to a too-short past life, and validates the soft blindspot of his otherwise iron conscience.

Dabi picks off a piece of his own chicken and takes a bite, “Yeah, we’ll see.”

Meanwhile, Hawks looks completely out of sorts. He’s biting his lip, his hand coming up to rub the knuckle of his gloved index right underneath it.

Dabi waits.

“I… I didn’t spend a lot of my life with my birth parents. They were abusive. And they were… y’know, what everyone would call ‘bad people’. Drug addicts, thieves. Probably other things, too, I dunno,” and Dabi is listening to every single word, food completely forgotten. Hawks isn’t looking at him, lidded eyes are directed more towards Dabi’s shoulder, and that’s okay because Dabi hasn’t spoken a single word of his own abuse, so he’s not going to judge how others do it.

The blond’s head shakes, “Ah,” and clearing gold eyes look back to Dabi, “Point is, even they didn’t face consequences for what they did to me. My dad… He’s in jail, but it’s not for what he did to me. And my mom… Commission paid her a hefty check to adopt me, so she's probably off living an even better life — or maybe dead from overdose, I dunno.”

“Sounds hard,” it’s a shitty response, but Dabi doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t want to reveal his own story, but for all that’s broken and wrong and rotted inside of him, he still feels empathy towards this guy, towards the Number Two Hero.

‘Birds of a feather, ‘n all that.’

“Yeah, well. Just makes me think, if apparently ‘bad people’ can get away with the crime of child abuse — people with practically zero social or economic influence — then, how do the same institutions hold someone with real status accountable?”

Against his desire to appear aloof, Dabi feels the sharp tug of his own lips pulling into a small smile, “Askin’ all the right questions. Best ones have no answer.”

Hawks laughs, and it's the same one as the alley, low and quiet. Soft.

Dabi wonders if the guy lets himself laugh often. He smiles a lot, that’s for certain, but smiles are always easier to fake than laughter.

“I have a feeling a lot of villains have this kind of backstory, or something similar, huh.”

“As you?” Dabi raises a brow, the easiest kind of expression he can do to the lack of staples there, a constant reminder of his ‘backstory,’ like he’s a fucking manga character, “Maybe. ‘Cept they weren’t saved by anyone. No one’s jumpin’ up and down to take care of us. That’s the difference between us,” his index finger flicking back-and-forth in the space between them, “Heroes ‘n villains.”

The laugh that leaves Hawks is wrong this time. It’s bitter and booming — dark, and not nearly as lovely as Dabi found the others.

“Saved. Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

Dabi’s stomach churns something sick. He hopes it’s the chicken.

The next time Dabi is supposed to meet Hawks, the skin around the staples of his hands feels like it’s on fire. Red, itchy, and, ‘Oh Gods,’ Dabi thinks he’s starting to see something white seep out the seam of his right wrist.

He used up the last of his supplies two weeks ago. Right now, the only things he has in his apartment are gauze, soap, and tap water that can be boiled.

Dabi thinks about calling one of the League members, any of them, but after Kamino, there’s been wanted posters of their faces plastered everywhere, mostly definitely around cities nice enough to have open pharmacies.

He calls Hawks.

“Hello! Where are ya, hot stuff? I’ve been waitin’ for half an hour, and I even took the time to change my clothes.”

Dabi rolls his eyes at the nickname and grips the phone tighter. It makes his wrist burn. He doesn’t waste any time, “Do you have access to any antiseptics or disinfectants right now? Strong ones. Or maybe even antibiotics, like silver sulfadiazine?”

“Burn cream? Uh… not, like, I don’t have any on me. I could get some? Is everything alright?”

Dabi closes his eyes and rubs his brow, “Yeah, I’m gonna send you some new coordinates. Bring the supplies here. And hurry.”

He hangs up and sets to boiling some water.

Three loud knocks later echo through Dabi’s apartment, and he yells, “Come in!” as he pats his wrists dry with a paper towel.

“Dabi?” Hawks’ voice rings through the apartment and his large wings come into view from where Dabi stands in the kitchen. Hawks takes his shoes off at the entryway — ‘how well mannered.’ — and perks up when he spots the scarred man.

“Hey! So, I got an assortment of things. Hydrogen peroxide, saline, antibacterial ointment, got the silver sulfadiazine like you asked — that shit is expensive without a coupon — and, oh! I got these, like, film coverings, pharmacist calls ‘em ‘nanocrystalline silver dressing’ , supposed to be better for fighting infection,” He shrugs, “I also went ahead and got some other things like gauze, dressing, Q-tips, pins,” and sets the plastic bag on the countertop, “Here, take a look.”

Dabi does, with his eyes because he doesn’t want his freshly cleaned wrists getting even more infected with whatever bacteria could be on the plastic bag or any of these items.

“... Damn. Thanks, Birdy,” He’s honestly shocked Hawks got this much stuff.

He ignores the way his heart beats faster, ‘Might finally be the sepsis.’

When Dabi looks back up at the guy, his feathers are wiggling again, something Dabi has come to understand what the hero does when he’s somewhat pleased, “Uh, can you wash your hands over there in the sink and pull out the… Hm, the silver dressing, white dressing, and the gauze? Just set it on the counter, I’ll be right back.”

Dabi walks over to his bathroom, hearing the affirmative, “Sure!” from the hero, and closes the door with his elbow.

He needs a minute.

‘I can’t believe I just let an undercover hero into my apartment. Am I going to have to move? Fuck… fuck, fuck!’

“Shit,” he whispers to himself as he opens his medicine cabinet and fetches a pair of tweezers and a box of latex gloves.

‘I can’t believe he bought all that stuff. Dude’s loaded, that’s fine and all, but… what the fuck? I only asked for the burn cream…’

Dabi shakes his head, closes the medicine cabinet, and is greeted with the reflection of his own confused expression, etched by a small crack at the upper left side. He takes a minute to look at the man staring back at him, looking at his scars and his freshly dyed roots. He knows he’s a frightening sight, something out of nightmares and horror movies.

He hates looking at himself, sometimes. He knows others do, too.

Some nights, the vulnerability of his upsettingly-human psyche will claw its way out like the vicious beast it is, and force him to understand his loneliness. On those nights, he will understand why people turned away a half-dead teen, why store owners chased him out with their bats and mops, and why heroes will always, always attack on-sight upon seeing Dabi’s face.

He will understand why the League’s bar is really the one place he can ever sip his drink in peace and enjoy the burn at the back of his throat without some prick trying to slip him paper bills in exchange for things he can’t even say out loud. On those nights, the righteous anger will leave his body like steam from boiling water, and leave him hollow and cold and so, very, very alone.

He wonders if tonight will be one of those nights.

“Uh, Dabi? You alright in there?”

Dabi blinks out and away from his reflection, ‘Maybe not,’ and leaves his bathroom.

When he comes back to the kitchen, all the supplies he asked for are out and ready to use. Hawks sits on Dabi’s only stool, waiting.

Dabi didn’t get a chance to really look at the guy, until now. The hero did end up changing his attire for tonight — black sweatshirt, normal jeans that are still on the baggier side, and black boots closer to the kind in fashion magazines than those hideously yellow rainboots he normally tends to wear. When Dabi lifts his eyes back up, he notices the hero’s hair looks a bit different, a little more chaotic, and a little less stiff — it looks soft.

‘Oh, pull it fucking together.’

Dabi clears his throat and hands over the box of latex gloves, “Do you mind helping me out? I just need you to do this wrist, and then I can work on the other.”

Hawks is nodding and stretching the gloves over his hands before Dabi even finishes his sentence.

“Y’know, your place isn’t anything like I’d thought it’d be. ‘S nice. Clean.”

Dabi hears a snap! and a muttered, “shit.”

He opens his mouth to ask what’s wrong before he looks at Hawks’ hand, and sees matte black claws curving out fingers loosely lined with tattered blue latex.

“Oh.”

“Heh,” Hawks laughs, a bit nervously, “Sorry ‘bout that. My own gloves are so thick, I forget I have these.”

“Why am I just now seeing these?” Dabi wonders out loud, eyes glued to the tips of talons he could have sworn that, for a split second, sparkled at him, “Shit. Those are fucking sharp, man. You’re tellin’ me you don’t fight with ‘em?” He doesn’t really pay attention to broadcasts of hero fights but from the ones he’s seen, the Number Two’s hands were always gloved.

“Ah,” Hawks starts to pull a fresh latex glove over his hand again, leaving some space between the ends of each finger for his talons this time, “That wouldn’t be very heroic, would it? There’d be a lot of… blood. Kids don’t need to see that kind of gore in the news, y’know.”

Dabi raises an eyebrow, “I… guess....”

Honestly, Dabi thinks that’s a bullshit excuse, to not use something so clearly advantageous in serious combat, especially when the hero's life is on the line practically every day, ‘Even if he doesn’t want to use them, why does he cover them?’

He lets the matter be, for now, and looks over the directions on the box of the nanocrystalline silver dressing. He reads it twice, just to make sure.

Hawks speaks up, apparently needing to hear his own voice again, “The directions say that for exudative wounds, you should apply the dressing dry.”

“Yeah, I see that.”

“So... Let’s get started!”

Dabi huffs. He hates that he needs help but he’s always been shit with his right hand, and he doesn’t want to risk dropping anything. He lays his left hand out towards Hawks and critically watches every move the man makes.

Hawks is extremely gentle, and he dresses the wound as if he’s done this a thousand times over. The hero’s eyes never leave Dabi’s wrist, except for the few times he’d go over and read the instructions again to make sure he’s doing everything right. He cradles Dabi’s forearm with one hand as he uses the other to smooth the silver dressing on, the pressure of his fingers light around the staples and firm around the skin. After he applies the secondary dressing, he briefly looks up at Dabi to ask, “You alright?”

Dabi can only nod.

When the gauze is wrapped and firmly pinned in place, Hawks finally lets go and Dabi takes a step back to breathe.

He immediately sets to work on his other hand, moistening the silver dressing with the clean water he’d boiled earlier on.

“You sure you don’t want help with the other hand? I’ve been trained in this kinda stuff, first aid. I don’t mind.”

‘Well, that explains a little.’

Still, Dabi shakes his head, “I prefer to do it myself,” and there’s truth in that, it’s the absolute truth, Dabi likes to do things himself. He likes things done his way, and he doesn’t like being touched.

But the gentle feeling of Hawks’ fingers on his skin urges him to reconsider.

He won’t, but some part of him wishes he would.

As he starts to apply the silver dressing with his tweezers, he hears Hawks ask, “Can I ask you something really personal? Like, probably boundary-crossing?”

Dabi’s eyes never leave his working hands, “You got a lot of nerve, Birdbrain, thinkin’ we’re cool like that.”

He hears a small squawk, “C’mon, dude! I’m in your apartment, per your request! I think we’re along the lines of something, ‘like that’.”

Dabi snorts, “I won’t stop you, but don’t be surprised if I tell you to fuck off.”

Hawks laughs — the same small breathy one that makes Dabi’s own mouth quirk up.

Hawks asks why his body is full of scars.

And Dabi… Well, every passing day, Dabi feels himself getting closer to death and, tonight, it makes his lips a little loose. Maybe he just wants someone to know his story, maybe he wants to try saying it out loud. And if he’s gonna tell his tale, it might as well be in the company of his favorite little double-agent.

When he finishes wrapping up the gauze around his right wrist, he digs for the cigarette packet deep in his pocket, takes out a stick, and lights it up.

“My father,” He begins, “He’s the reason I’m like this, the reason I look like this, act this way. I know the whole ‘daddy issues’ thing is overrated but, well,” He shrugs, not daring to look up from his apartment floor. He takes another puff, the nicotine in his veins calming him, the smoke down his throat grounding him. He remembers his conviction, “That man took everything from me, left me like this, and he only ever got rewarded.”

He briefly glances at Hawks, the man’s gold eyes filled with an empathetic sorrow that only people like them could give each other, “I’m sorry.”

Dabi shakes his head and looks away, because he can’t deal with this, can’t have someone looking at him like that, not after all these years, “Not your fault. Nothing to be sorry for.”

“He’ll burn,” Hawks says, and Dabi sees the man’s fists clench from the corner of his eye, “Wherever he is, one way or another, he’ll burn.”

Dabi doesn’t know what kind of feelings are running through the hero right now. He thinks that maybe if he looks up, he might see.

‘Is he angry? Is it for me? Does he pity me, feel sorry for me? Is he triggered by my story the way I was by his? Or is he just telling me what he thinks I want to hear?’ — but Dabi doesn’t want to see.

Because if Hawks only knew who Dabi’s father was, who made him like this, and did this to him, he doesn’t want to know if the hero would look at him the same way gold eyes do now.

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore, Birdy.”

Dabi walks over to his worn-out couch and sits down with a tired sigh. Hawks follows.

For the next ten minutes, Dabi relays small bits and pieces of League information to Hawks, and the hero returns with tidbits of hero business.

It honestly just feels like a way to fill the time.

When a moment of silence reaches them, and Dabi’s cigarette has burned all the way through the filter, Dabi speaks up about something he kept quiet to himself last time, “Say, since you asked me a deeply personal question, grant me the same privilege?”

“Sure, as long as I get the same privilege of tellin’ you to fuck off if I want.”

Dabi snorts and ashes his cigarette, tilts his head towards the hero.

“Was I wrong? Back then, about the Commission saving you?”

He sees Hawks bite his lips and sink deeper into the sofa cushions, tilting his head back. He sighs, “You’re an observant fucker, aren’t you?”

Dabi smirks, “What villain isn’t?”

“The ones that get caught.”

And at that, Dabi barks a laugh and is honestly shocked at the sound of it. He thinks Hawks is, too, by the way his blond eyebrows round up, and his previously conflicted eyes soften.

Hawks lifts one of his clawed hands up, and if Dabi didn’t know better, he’d think the gesture was some kind of show-and-tell, but at the way Hawks’ own eyes glaze over his talons, Dabi thinks the movement is more for the hero’s own comfort.

“I lied earlier, about the reason I don’t fight with my claws,” Hawks finally says, softly, almost as if he were speaking to himself.

Dabi knows to keep quiet.

“I do care about wanting kids to live in a safer world, to… spare them. Of the horrific consequences that come from battles, traumatizing images ‘n all that stuff. Of course, I care about that. But… But I know my abilities. If allowed, I know I’d be able to use my claws in ways that wouldn’t end in some kind of, fucking , feral episode.”

Dabi’s eyebrows slowly knit together, “Allowed?”

Golden eyes flick over to Dabi’s and the vulnerability swirling in them makes the scarred man want… something.

To gasp, reach out, put his own wrapped hands over the talons, and warm them up a bit, just — something.

He’s horrified at these new and intrusive thoughts.

Instead of doing anything, he waits.

“The Commission,” Hawks drops his hand to his lap and averts his eyes there, “They have an image of what they believe society wants a hero to look like, along with other things. They… told me they were ‘correcting’ my flaws.”

There’s a beat of heavy, waiting silence.

“They appreciate my quirk — it’s strong and versatile, good for offense, defense, rescue — stuff like that. But they don’t… They hate my raptor genes, the mutations. Like, the only thing I’m allowed to have and show are my wings — everything else has to be hidden or removed. I’m a mutant, but I have to do everything I can to look as ‘humane’ as possible.”

‘What is even considered ‘humane’, in a society of quirked-people?’

Dabi is immediately reminded of his hatred towards hero society, “Shit, what the fuck, Birdy. Is that why you wear those stupid-ass gloves?”

Hawks sends a bitter and sad smile to Dabi, “Was the only way to convince them to let me keep my talons. They used to clip ‘em or file them down, but that fucking hurts and they grow back wrong, so. Yeah, got these gloves and told them I’ll never take ‘em off.”

“Tch,” Dabi feels so disgusted right now, at the people who run this society, “So they make you nice ‘n pretty for everyone to look at while they profit of’a’ya. Sick.”

“Yeah, well,” Hawks huffs a laugh, and it’s the one that makes Dabi feel sick to his stomach, “I’m the Number Two Hero, with my own agency! All at the tender age of twenty-four — oops, sorry, twenty-two, Commission fudged my age to make me look even more impressive. An eighteen-year-old success story is prettier than a twenty-year-old one.”

Bile threatens to well up in Dabi’s throat at that — the effort to make this hero fit into society’s obsession with the ‘barely legal’ trope.

“I should be grateful, right?” Hawks bitterly smiles, “Everybody wants to fuck me and every hero wants to be me.”

“Fuck outta here if you’re gonna talk like that, Birdbrain.”

Pink lips bite themselves into a smile, one so much more shy and on the edge of mischievous, “Wanna see my feet?”

“What the fuck?”

He does. He really does.

read full chapter here

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bee-saucee · 4 months

Note

Hellooo, this is the first time I've done one of these, but I've enjoyed your writing a bunch so I thought I'd give it a try. What kind of couple rituals does Shinkami take part in? For example, ones that they know know that they do, like a kiss before work. And ones that they don't realize, such as who sleeps on what side of the bed? Oh-and Happy New Year in advance 🥳💜

ShinKami Couple Rituals | Headcanons/Oneshot

summary: ShinKami ritual headcanons and a glimpse into their morning routine on a day off

word count: 917

warnings: Kissing and cursing

a/n: This is my first request on Tumblr and I am so so grateful! Your interaction has been so meaningful to me recently! I appreciate you tons. Happy New Year to you as well! It was fun thinking and writing about things I haven’t before so if anyone else has requests I would be so honored! I’ve got some headcanons and a short fic for you. There isn’t much plot but sometimes you just need some good fluff. I hope you enjoy and that I've done this right.

Headcanons

Rituals they're aware of

I think ShinKami are definitely a kiss before they leave for work type of couple! I’m big on ShinKami having schedules that don’t match up at all person but Shinsou was adamant about Denki waking him up to kiss him goodbye when they first started living together. They usually eat dinner together before Shinsou leaves for work so they always share a kiss before he goes. Just a kiss might be an understatement, fervent makeout is probably what it usually turns into before Shinsou is rushing out the door so he isn’t late for work

This is more of a tradition than a ritual but I think ShinKami is really big on holiday traditions, even for the small ones like Talk Like A Pirate Day

Because they usually aren’t together at the start and end of their days together, ShinKami is big on morning and nighttime texts

Rituals they aren't aware of

They just kind of fell into Shinsou on the left side of the bed and Kaminari on the right. Denki tends to roll over on top of Shinsou while he sleeps, though so it doesn’t mean too much

When they’re out in public, Denki tends to wrap his arm around Shinsou’s waist if they’re standing still. He knows that Shinsou can get nervous and subconsciously tries to pull him in closer and protect him

They always let one another try their drink. They love going to cafes together and trying out drinks at restaurants and to them it’s just straight up rude not to share with one another

They pick up each other’s speaking habits rapidly and use them all the time

Oneshot

Kaminari blinks his eyes open and is met with the sight of his boyfriend’s deep eye bags illuminated by his phone. His hair bends at awkward angles in a tangled mess that he knows only comes from a fitful night of sleep.

“Mm, how long have you been awake, honey bear?” Denki asks, scootching in closer to his boyfriend.

“Couple hours.”

Hitoshi places a soft kiss on Denki’s forehead and he closes his eyes. He can feel the warmth of Hitoshi just a little bit better now. The rise and fall of his chest feels more prominent. The soft rustle of breath falling from his nose and drawing back in is loud in the quiet of a rare day off together.

“We should shower,” Denki mumbles.

“Uhuh.”

A beat passes as neither of them moves. Fuck he loves his boyfriend. Hitoshi pulls Denki up so he’s resting right on top of him chest to chest. Did he mention how much he loves his boyfriend?

“You have sleep in your eyes,” Hitoshi says.

“I slept good, dude. Makes sense. Sorry–I know you didn’t sleep well.”

“I never sleep well. It’s okay.”

Denki keeps his eyes closed and Hitoshi softly brushes the sleep from the corners of his eyes. He’d probably get an eye infection or break out from it someday but Hitoshi craved these moments of affection they probably shouldn’t have after a long week of work and Denki was more than happy to oblige. He finally cracks his eyes open and is met with that adorable smile that’s new enough for Hitoshi to not have smile lines. Cementing those lines on Hitoshi’s face was currently the closest thing Denki has to a life mission.

“Hey, you little cutie patootie. You come here often?” Denki says with an exaggerated wink.

“Plenty.”

“I’m going to the mall today with Mina and Kiri. You wanna come? No pressure.”

Hitoshi pulls him in for a quick peck. He really wanted to slob his boyfriend down bad and nasty but now with morning breath was probably not the best time.

“Nah. I wanted to get some reading done today.”

The rejection still stings a bit but with time, he’s getting used to taking that hit for Hitoshi. The strong confirmation that Hitoshi missed him and loves him the moment he gets back from time out more than makes up for it.

“No problem my little love muffin,” Denki says, punctuating it with another peck. “Alright!” He slaps Hitoshi’s bare chest. “It’s shower time for real!”

They begin their usual dance around Hitoshi’s small apartment. Switch between brushing teeth and a morning piss. Convene with a long chat about their day or whatever book Hitoshi has been reading as they shower together. Denki lingers to finish his 12 step skincare routine while Hitoshi shuffles to the kitchen to make his first cup of coffee and start the day off special: mini sausage cut into octopi, fried egg, toast, salad, and apple juice.

Denki bites off one of the tentacles. “Yo, Toshi Woshi.” He taps his feet against Hitoshi’s shins under the table

“Mhm?”

“I like mornings with you.”

Hitoshi turns to fully face him and that smile gets just a little bit closer to developing lines. “Me too, baby.”

“I GOT A HITOSTINO PET NAME,” Denki shouts, almost dropping his mini sausage.

“Don’t do the octopus like that.”

“It’s a necessary sacrifice to show my ass clenching enthusiasm to my lover.”

Hitoshi scrunches up his face. “That makes me sound like some torrid affair.”

“You’re right. My first love is this fried egg. Then L from Death Note. Then you.”

“That’s fair. I’ll take it. At least the affair is torrid.”

“I would never have some vanilla affair with you my sweet pea pod.”

“Damn straight.”

Denki gasps. “We’re gay, Toshi!”

“My bad, my bad. Damn gay.”

Thanks for reading! Check out my masterlist for more.

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helloescapist · 8 months

Text

To Me

Word Count: 2037

Setting: reader pairing, Neito Monoma x gn!reader (oni, kijo quirk), SFW

Content Warning(s): none 🪄

Summary: your horns have always been a sore topic for you, and during one of Neito's many (onesided) spats with Class 1-A, he is met with the reality that, he really doesn't know how to help.

A/N: really, this isn't very good, but oh the well! Just a small trial-run short.

[not my art, credit goes to the artist!]

It was the distinct flick of his wrists, pointer fingers flexed from both of his left and right hands. The curl of the remainder fingers, pressed against his ears, fingers upright. The knowing glare Bakugo directed at you.

The classes had been gathered for a joint activity. One which was intended to be conducted under both instructors from U.A. Although it wasn’t as though Kan-sensei was known for his objective stance when the two classes were to compete, often times his favoritism rang clear even at moments in which subtilty was required. In his desire to encourage his students, fairness often escaped his enthusiasm. Today was such day, his boisterous nature far too distracted with expressing how far as a Class 1-B had advanced since Aizawa-sensei had last observed you. The prides of instructor leaving him completely ignorant to his smaller body double; Monoma had started the gathering off assembly of classes off on a rather audacious note. Not that any of your classmates were surprised, Kendo looked especially exasperated to the blonde’s antics. Tired from having stayed up late studying, her movements were slow, taking longer than normal to process that once again, the quirk impersonator had thrown down the gauntlet between classes without so much as consideration for those he had looped into the confrontation. His scorn drawing the attention of both classes despite the conversations that had otherwise been enjoyable. Yanagi who had been enjoying her counterparts in 1-A, Shoji and Koda, had her face drawn, eyes blank and focused, witnessing a moment she would express as his stupidity at work. Monoma’s abrasive behaviors had drawn Awase away from Yaoyorzu, still unwilling to admit how excited he had been to see her once again. Determined to dodge any unnecessary teasing from his peers, or tipping off his growing affections. Tsunotori and Hagakure who had been giggling amongst themselves, had silenced their jovial conversation. The growing unease evident on their faces, the oblivious rage that Monoma inspired within Class 1-A’s number one trigger-happy time bomb was apparent. The agitation was rolling in waves potent enough to set off a buried weight pressure explosive. The Copycat user had drawn obvious, blistering annoyance from the emitter. The veins in his forehead beginning to pop as his eyes widened. Bakugo’s seething beginning to boil over. Monoma’s insistence to continue spatting insults despite Kaibara’s insistence to cease fire. The boy’s cautionary reminders falling on deaf ears, far too delighted in Bakugo’s growing temper. The nervous tilt of Kirishima’s hands, beckoning his friend to remain calm, and dismiss the obvious instigator, was as useless as that of Kaibara’s.

The explosive nature of the quirk user Monoma had set his sights on, the easy target he always prayed upon, reminiscent of the school sports festival. That day despite having placed first, Bakugo was practically foaming at the mouth, snapping his teeth a lot like h was in this moment, but this time directed at Monoma. The realization had drawn you forward, nervously forcing a smile and doing your best to distract your classmate. For all of your time together, you were familiar with Neito’s mannerism, outside of his interactions with Class 1-A. His overall nature was in fact, laid back, and playful, but every time he was gifted the opportunity to wreck havoc with the other class, his impulsive nature override his senses. Drew out his competitive, and argumentative side, and in truth, apart of you were well aware that it was a strategy ploy he had utilized. Sure, in the event Bakugo’s temper bested him, a brief moment of physical contact would be all Neito needed to utilize it in the sparring match to come, but with how far he had pushed this time, you were worried he may not make it to the one-on-one.

“M-Monoma,” you gently probed. Attempting to use a softer voice as not to draw Bakugo’s ire. The shift of periwinkle blue eyes. Piercing, and gravitating towards your frame, captivating your silhouette. The draw of his eyebrow, over confident. Cocky in the way his smirk met his lips, the plaster of a false smile. One intended to be reassuring that he was in fact not biting off more than he could chew—did the exact opposite. The small twitch of the forced expression, drawing your eyebrows forward, doing your best to talk him down from the edge, and that’s when you saw it.

Bakugo’s annoyance, only slightly cooled by Kirishima’s assurance had drove him to childish gestures behind Monoma’s back. Sticking his tongue out, tugging at his eyelid. The immature display of dissatisfaction almost comical, until his eyes had met with your won. The scowl drawn, as quick as his reflex. His fingers meeting at the top of his forehead. Oni.

Distant memories dropped your shoulders. The taunt, while absolutely ridiculous had drawn forth echoes of a past you had wished would leave you. Dipped in to your cache of information, and left the tremble of your lip. Eyes averted to the ground as you did your best to train your expression. A forced smile that had been well practiced throughout your childhood, all too aware of the faint breeze of hydrangea blooms following your reaction. Quick to mumble an excuse to leave the classroom, expressed that you had forgotten a crucial part of your hero costume in the classroom, and ensured Kan-sensei you would return as quickly as possible—you were a valuable role in stomping Class 1-A’s reputation into the ground, reminded you of the drills you would run if you skipped the skirmish, but for once, you did not care.

All he could hear was Kendo yelling in his ear, the telling sting at the nap of his neck. The bitterness ebbing at his mind, the tug of his collar. His periwinkle eyes blurry from the direct hit, the small ebb of a burn festering near his cheek where he had barely managed to dodge. Able to make out the slightest of outlines, but was unable to determine what noise was eliciting from the obvious rabid porcupine. Bakugo thrashed about, still sending off a number of curses flaring, drenched in smoke. Aizawa-sensei having suspended his quirk, Kirishima and Izuku doing his best to qualm his aggression. A flurry of movements that met the ringing in his ears, a light burn marred to the opposite cheek of his own, only adding to Bakugo’s rage. Neito understood the position he had placed himself in, Kan-sensei at Aizawa-sensei’s side, looking less than pleased. The distinct lecture of his classmate as she dragged him from the classroom. The first opportunity Kan-sensei would seize would be eventful; the drills he would run, the potential smack here and there. He suspected Kan-sensei may ebb him into an offense match one derived of improving his lacking skills, only slightly enjoying the opportunity to smack him around, or he would willingly place Kendo on a one on one with him. She certainly had no qualms with tossing him around a bit. His classmates would be exasperated with his display, and you… you would probably be disappointed when you found out. In fact, he suspected you would even avoid him for a bit, the last time one of his comments had strayed too far, you had opted for lunches with Kodai in seclusion.

But he had seen your response. The quiver of your lip, the dip of your eyes; the smallest twitch of your eyebrows and wiggle of your nose. The grit of your teeth as you forced back tears, coercing a smile in place. Well trained, strained at that. He had noticed it a few times, when your overall smile and tender temperament would sway. Overall, you were one of the most optimistic students in their class, soft in your approaches. The softest of smiles, a little quiet at times sure, but in small moments when you thought no one was watching, he had noticed the worry in your eyes. The way you would avert your gaze. The tug of your sleeves before securing the drawstrings of your hoodie. The way your class had taken a patrol excursion with the intent on working on their interactions with civilians, you had expressed obvious discomfort. Forced a smile and continued the lesson until you had noticed a small child drop their stuff animal. Quick to respond, and return the well loved item back to its owner, the obvious startle of the child had shocked the both of you. Dropped the little one’s toy, backing away as quickly as you could. Monoma had attempted to sooth the child, reassure that you were one of the good guys, but you would only apologize to both the child and the parent for disrupting their day. A forced smile, and refusing to acknowledge any questions Neito had pressed. Not that he had pushed much. Knew that he shouldn’t. The first day of school, you had attempted to wear a cap in class. Dismayed by Kan-sensei’s disapproval, reminding you of the school dress code of conduct. You had trembled through introductions, fidgeting with your bangs to better high the small nubs at the height of your brow. Your obvious horror when you were suggested as a potential candidate for the U.A. School Festival’s beauty pageant. The red of your face, shamed wide eyes, and quick to shield your face between fingers—no, you hadn’t attempted to safe guard your appearance. Rather the small blossom of cornets at your brow. Your firm stance on Kendo being the only applicant for Class 1-B’s submission. Then, there was the day he had caught you in the morning classroom.

The stillness of the room, quiet with the lack of students. The early hours since moving into the dorms had left you unsettled, all of your class had noticed it, but had come to the understanding that approaching you directly often made you skittish, and shifted the mood of the group. So, they had elected to give you space, time to come around. To adjust to whatever burden you had been carrying, even if it was difficult. That morning, Kan-sensei had sentenced him to arriving early, annoyed that his grades had dipped. Deep cleaning the erasers after having ran a few miles should put him into place. it did not. Neito had not considered that anyone else would have been awake at that unholy hour. Let alone find you, sitting at your desk. The light of day flittering through the small windows, the nervous settle of your bag. The meticulous tuck of your papers, aligning everything well, and when you hadn’t realized he was there. The slump of your back, the mirror betwee two fingers. Sad eyes that appraised your reflection, shuffled your bangs to and fro, the scowl deepening on you face before placing the mirror reflections side down. Your fingers, clasping your eyes, leaned forward. The small quiver of your shoulders as you willed yourself to breathe. To paint upon the smile that had greeted him every day.

No, as far as Neito was concerned, regardless of the punishment that would come his way, or the disapproval he would be met with, he had little remorse for his actions. In fact, he had a bit of gratification despite the lecture Kendo was issuing. His fighting style was never one for blatant offense, especially a head on approach, and with Bakugo’s rage dulling his senses, Neito had managed a slight of hand. One quick enough to equip the other student’s quirk, and land a direct hit, although it did come at the cost of the snarling psycho’s adept ability to rebound. My face hurts, he thought to himself as his footsteps echoed down the hallway. Kendo had rightfully exiled him, her last remark leaving more of a sear than Bakugo’s blow. In all the times she had laid into him, whether verbally, or even on the times he had physically put him in his place, nothing had ever stung as much as her observation. The blatant way she had bridged the subject, the pointed look. Her words still resting against him. If you had cared about {YN] you would have followed her. He had let his own temper get the btter of him, set himself in a mock villain match off with the rabid hedgehog, and essentially marked himself for an ass kicking later…

And had left you alone.

Nestled between the small touch of storage cabinets near the costume storage, you had drawn your knees up to your chest. Attempted to catch the tears that betrayed your inner world. Whispered the realities of a past of hurtful remarks. Intended or not. The days you had spent in your childhood, desperately wanting a friend. Someone to play with, your peers quick to avoid your interactions. Your appearance the recollection of demons in fairytales. The small nubs that rested at your brow, quick to elicit unease regardless of how you had smiled, or how gently you had approached potential play mates. As though you were truly the bringer of plagues, the Harvenger of death such as the oni in fairytales. The days of clear avoidance, nervousness as though you may curse their existence; other days spent with lunchroom food smeared across your face. Rice crumpled to your hair, students demanding you leave their school. Others that taunted, demanded to know if even the smallest infringement upon their day was a result of a kijo’s curse. Your please and cries falling upon deaf ears, unwilling to listen to reason. The day when your quirk had fully activated, drawing to more than just your outward appearance. You had unintentionally flipped a swing set; you had just wanted to play. Even if it was by yourself, it had never been your intention to leave the equipment in ruin, nor to terrify the other small children. Their screams echoed in your ear as though you were little more than a feral dog.

You had stopped going to the playground that day.

Had forced a smile.

But today, all you could do was cry, press your eyes into yoru knees, unable to fully conceal your appearance. The stupid points of your horns unwilling to nestle against your knees. The rough sob of your tears rolling off, shamed by your own appearance. You understood—it’s not that Bakugo had specifically targeted you. His harm was directed really towards any extra, but… it hurt. To be the oni freak. To be the Kijo who’s being was curse. A plague to others.

This is where he had found you. Coiled up under the guise of searching for a part for your hero costume. A ridiculous excuse, your outfit had little bells and whistles, more revealing of your will to go unnoticed than anything else. How had Kan-sensei made it to the top instructor all these years? The obvious heave of your chest, collapsed over long, untrained hair. The tender soft of your cheeks, as you wiped at your eyes. Too embarrassed to even admit to yourself the ache of your heart. The quiver of your closed eyes as your fingers brushed against one of your horns, as if testing whether they were still attached or not. Did you think you were a moose? The crushing reality that they had remained in place eliciting a soft murmur of a stifled wail. Alone, or at least you had concluded you were. Allowing yourself to slip from the seams, the smile falling from your lips at the time alone. You always did this. Fell apart when no one was looking. TH touch of small light at your hair, the gentle regard you had for others, even unwilling to burden your classmates despite how your heart ached. Despite how desperately you wished to grasp onto someone’s hands.

How was it, you had ended up like this?

Why didn’t you take someone’s hand?

The distant memories, the rejection he had endured in his formative years. His quirk, a villain. No, Neito understood how you had found yourself in this state. Your existence far gentler than his own. Unwilling to bite back at the hands that offended you, forcing a smile rather than reveal your contempt. No, no he suspected that you didn’t even have a touch of scorn within your bones. So different than himself. Thoughtful. Gentle. Kind. The melancholy that nabbed at his heart, longed to hold the hand that you desperately denied reaching out. Too ease your tears, to sooth your worries. He.. He didn’t really know how. The Phantom Thief was comfortable with touch, with casual teasing and encounters, but... but that wasn’t who you were. Yet, he could not stop the brush of his hand against the strands of your hair. Could not fight the smile, the soft regard as his knees bent to meet your own. His left hand soothing the strands of distress. Impulsively stroking you despite the obvious shock of his appearance. Allowed your quirk to manifest between his brow, a mirror image of the horns that you so desperately attempted to hide. Forced a smile, quivered your arms. Attempted to deceive him. Something in your eye, how silly. Of course, there was something in your eyes, tears. Regardless of the way you fretted against him, never willing yourself to smack his hand away, he continued. Soothed out strand. Reassuringly hummed as though he were consoling a small child—in some ways, he was. But whether it was his inner child or yours he did not know, but he did not stop. Didn’t desire to.

He didn’t understand. In all truth, to me, he had the touch of melancholy ebbed across his features. The telling smile that tugged at his lips, sincere and affectionate. Not wanting to relinquish the moment, you’re... He thought quietly. His eyes smolder, and appraising your reactions. Ensuring that he did not press to far, did not stray into a touch you did not like. Remained petting your hair, easing your burdens. Unsure of how to approach you. Unsure of how to tuck away the tears that threatened to spill once more. Unsure of how to tell you, to tell you…

You're everything.

If only for a moment to reassure you that you were not alone in the world. That he would hold your hand.

Should you ever want him to.

#neito x reader #monoma x reader #monoma neito #bnha oneshot #mha x reader

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blueclownsworld · 10 days

Note

Hello :)

Do you write platonic?

If you do could you please write a father Aizawa in which he and his daughter fighted over some stupid thing and she ended up admiting something she thought she would never tell him? And then how he reacts over it?

(Maybe that she is of the lgtb+ or that she is dating someone she shouldnt because is older or something else)

Thanks :)

author's note: hiii !! yes, i do write platonic. more on my other account, but here as well ! ( aaaa also I loved writing this, hopefully you like it tooo )

🎀

"I am going to go to the mall", you state and stare at your father with unwavering determination. "You can't control my social life."

Aizawa sighs deeply and rubs the space between his eyebrows before answering sternly "I am not controlling your social life, I am simply telling you that you're cleaning your room first. And if I may remind you, this task of yours was supposed to be done three days ago."

You roll your eyes at him, crossing your arms. Aizawa could be so stubborn when he wanted to be, and you were no different.

"Look, it. doesn't. matter", you spell out to him, only annoying him further with your attitude. "The room isn't going to rotten during the couple of hours I spend at the mall."

"Yes, but this is a rule we established ages ago. Your duties come first, then friends", your father reminds and gives you a stern look with his tired eyes.

"Duties, duties and duties. It's all you talk about these days", you mutter and continue "What happened to 'Hey, how was your day?' 'Is there anything you'd like to talk about?' or 'Would you like to spend time with me?' ? Now it's just 'Did you clean your room like you promised to?' 'Your grades have dropped, pay more attention' and 'Do your damn duties, kid'."

Aizawa's eyebrows furrow at your words and he pauses to think. It was true that lately there had been this strange distance between the two of you, caused by multiple different factors coming together into a mess.

"You're focused on the wrong things, this is why I never told you about my girlfriend!" you finally yell the words that had been fighting to get out for a long time already.

For a long minute both of you just stare at each other with widened eyes, it was hard to determine which one of you were more shocked by your words.

Eventually your father clears his throat and decides to break the silence "..You have a girlfriend?" His tone was no longer harsh or annoyed, just purely curious.

You contemplate your answer for a moment before nodding "Yes, I have. I was planning to go to the mall with her."

"Why didn't you tell me? Was I truly that distanced from you?" he questioned, still not accusing or blaming you for anything. Only a hint of hurt was visible in his voice as he started to realise the true depth of the distance between you two.

"I.. I wasn't sure how you would react", you explain and fidget with your sleeve due to slight anxiety. He seemed very understanding at the moment, yet you couldn't help but to feel worried. "And it's just- you're far away."

'Far away.'

Those words truly crushed his heart. Being a parent was never easy, especially when the child grew older and started taking distance to their parent. It was hard to determine how long distance was natural and how long wasn't, yet now it hit him. You two were too far away.

"I'm so sorry", Aizawa whispers softly and takes your hands in his, meeting your eyes with gentle and loving ones. "I never meant to make you feel this way nor take distance. Know that I'll always do my best to support you, and you liking girls won't change that either."

You squeeze his hands tightly and try to hold back the invetable tears before he pulls you close and and allows you to cry on his shoulder while he caresses your hair to help you calm down again.

There were no words fitting for the moment, nor were they needed. You stayed in his arms for a long while before you two had an actual conversation, were you truly listened to each other and promised to work on the emotional distance. After that conversation you weren't hesistant to tell him things anymore, and you were reassured of his care for you.

🎀

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elliot-needs-sleep · 1 year

Text

Sleepless nights

Character: Bakugo x reader

Fic type: Drabble/short form

Fandom: MHA/BNHA

------

You were hanging out in the living room at the dorms. It was well past when you were supposed to be asleep, but you didn't exactly care.

You stared at the ceiling, still not really comfortable living in the dorms, but you weren't exactly given the option, especially if you wanted to be near to your friends.

"Why're you still awake, nerd?" You heard Katsuki's voice from behind where you were laying on the couch. You sighed and shrugged, sitting up a bit to look at him.

"Can't sleep. I know we've been living here for like a month, but I'm still not used to this." You laugh slightly, and he turns on a light as he walks over to sit across from you.

"You sure that's all? You've been out of it all day." He had his arms crossed over his chest, legs propped up on the coffee table between you two as you shifted to lay on your side to face him. You tried to avoid his eyes but you failed.

".... No. I'm not really sure if I'm cut out for being a hero. I don't what what I'm doing here anymore." You weren't looking at him, expecting him to laugh and tell you to shut up.

"That's fair. You've been having a hard time and it's normal to doubt yourself. But," He pauses, getting up from his spot and moving to your couch, moving your legs so he could sit down. He didn't complain when you put your legs back into his lap. "You'd be a great hero. Not as great as me, obviously, but you'd make a good number two hero." You laughed as he finished his sentence, finally meeting his eyes.

He was looking at you with a softness you didn't think he could possess. He reached for your hand tentatively, pausing right before he took it, so you took his instead. You knew he had his reservations with holding hands, due to his quirk. And he knew you didn't care.

"Don't put yourself down all the time, shortie." He almost hummed, looking out the window across from you both.

"Who're you calling shortie? At least I'm older than you!" You smiled at him as he glared at you, but then he just rolled his eyes and smiled softly.

"You're gonna be a great hero someday. I'll make sure of it." You smiled up at him, tilting your head slightly.

"Thank you, Katsuki. I like seeing you all soft like this!" He narrowed his eyes at you.

"Tell anybody and you're dead, nerd." You gasped over dramatically, putting your hand that was previously holding his on your chest as if you'd just been wounded.

"You dare call your own partner a nerd?!" He rolled his eyes at your antics, trying not to smile.

"Hey, its endearing!" It was now your turn to roll your eyes, but you snuggled into his lap, struggling to stay awake all of a sudden.

"Go to sleep, okay? I'll be here when you wake up." Thankfully there were blankets on the back of all the couches, and he pulled the one off the back of the couch to cover the both of you.

You smiled, falling asleep easily in his lap, his hand resting gently on your hip.

Before long, you were both asleep. And that led to Mina taking a bunch of photos of you two when she found you both.

#elliotiswriting #mha #mha fluff #bnha bakugou #bnha oneshot #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #x reader #mha x reader #a fic that nobody asked for lol

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crowborn666-writes · 2 years

Text

Raining

(Sadly, it was not raining when I started writing this. But I fell asleep after writing a chunk and woke up to it raining outside and my power going out. Horray!)

Shinsou Hitoshi x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Romantic

Summary: Looks like the walk back to the dorms is going to be a rainy one…

~~~~~~

A glance out the classroom window showed sky blue giving way to a gray that steadily grew darker. You could feel it in the way the general atmosphere changed, the pressure and humidity in the air and the sound of the wind beginning to make itself heard.

It was going to rain. Downpour, even.

And to make things worse? You didn’t think to bring an umbrella today. Not that you could, either, the one you did have got torn when the harsh wind of the last storm pulled it from your fingers and into a low hanging tree branch.

You heaved a small, silent sigh, turning your attention back to the lesson, quick to catch up where you left off in your notes. Today was thankfully one of the easier days, nothing too crazy planned for training, no surprise attacks or anything else too stressful. Just another basic day for learning normal school lessons and keeping up with training.

By the start of your second to last class, rain was battering down on the windows, the sky dark and gloomy and shrouding the world below in shadow. Other students were talking about how their outside plans were going to be interrupted by the rain, or how they hoped the storm wouldn’t get too bad.

All you could think about was the fact you’d most likely have to walk home in it without an umbrella. You often spent time after classes still in the school, so it was very likely you’d be heading to the dorms when everyone had already gotten there. Asking someone to share an umbrella would be out of the equation if there was no one still lingering.

The end of your school day couldn’t have come quicker, and as you feared, no one was still around in the lobby of the school. You stared out the open school doors, frowning at the rain that practically came down in sheets.

“Did you forget an umbrella too?”

You turn at the voice, spotting your boyfriend, Shinsou, walking up to stand beside you.

“Agh, sort of… my umbrella is all torn up and I haven’t had time to get a new one yet.”

Shinsou hummed, gaze flitting over your worried face before moving up to the dark gray clouds overhead. “All the teachers are in a meeting right now. And there’s no telling on when they’ll be done, so I guess our only choice is to walk.”

“Yeah…” you sighed, “Rain’s letting up a bit, so I guess now the time more than ever.”

You both stepped out into the rain, your expression scrunching in discomfort. You knew it was just water, but the cold chill it gave you wasn’t pleasant, nor was the droplet that slid into your eye, causing it to sting.

It wasn’t long until Shinsou was grabbing your hand, pulling you under every tree you two passed by to get some reprieve from the rain.

“So how are you doing in the hero course?” You piped up, wanting to fill the dreary rain with conversation. And also get a distraction from the way your clothes were beginning to uncomfortably stick to your skin.

Shinsou looked a little surprised by your question, as if he wasn’t expecting it to come up out of the blue, but nonetheless he gave a warm, tired smile.

“Tiring. But overall I think I’m doing pretty good. It’s a little jarring how supportive everyone is.” For a moment, you’d forgotten about the rain, too focused on the way he was smiling and talking. “I still think I’m way behind everyone, but several people say I don’t have that much catching up to do.”

“And I think they’re right.” You piped up, grabbing his attention, “From what I’ve seen you’ve got good intuition and reflexes! I think you’ll be a great hero, ‘Toshi!”

He grew shy, that’s the best way you could describe the look on his face, his free hand finding a place on the back of his neck. “Thanks (Y/n).”

~~~

You two had to break into a run-jog as you came up to the dorms, the rain getting heavier. The front doors burst open, Iida waving his arms in exasperation as he shouted.

“What on earth are you both doing out in this weather with no protection?! You’ll get sick!”

“We didn’t have any umbrellas!” You shouted back, Shinsou pulling on your hand to pull you towards the dorm building faster.

You both stood in the entrance, awkwardly dripping water onto the rug beneath you as Iida ran around, shouting to others to grab you both towels. Sure, he was overreacting a bit, but you appreciated the concern.

You jumped as a towel was suddenly plopped over your face. You reached up to adjust it, wringing out your hair to spot Shinsou grinning at you.

Ah. Of course. The towel was purple.

You shook your head at him with a playful roll of your eyes, patting the rain off your skin. “So Iida, how long until dinner?”

“At least an hour and a half!”

“Enough time for us to take showers!” You stated, waving your hand to beckon Shinsou to follow you. “C’mon ‘Toshi.”

You both took separate showers, and as you stepped out of your bathroom Shinsou was already waiting for you in your room, relaxing on your bean bag with some random phone game.

He looked so comfortable, you couldn’t help but plop yourself in his lap, curling up against his chest. He hummed as you made yourself comfortable, gently trailing his fingers through your slightly damp hair.

“Remind me to grab us both umbrellas next time we go shopping.” He murmured, setting his phone aside to wrap his arms around you. “It would suck if you got sick from getting caught in the rain again.”

“It would suck if you got sick too.” You retorted, shifting to peck kisses to his cheeks and nose.

He let out a soft laugh, cradling your cheeks in his hands. “It would suck for both of us, cause we’d both miss out on these.”

With that, he captured your lips in his, warm and soft, contrasting nicely against the after-shower chill on your skin. You smiled softly onto the kiss, trailing your fingers into his hair how he liked.

You let out a laugh as you parted, your ears catching the sound of your stomachs growling. “C’mon, let’s go get dinner.”

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mypimpademia · 8 months

Text

— [2:20 AM]

Bakugo x Black! Reader

TW: None

KATSUKI IS A BIT OF AN INSOMNIAC. It happened overtime, and he misses going to bed at 10 PM and sleeping like a log till 5 AM. Now, he pushed his bedtime back to the old man hour of 9 PM, just to give himself an extra 30 minutes to toss and turn before falling asleep. And another 30 minutes to compensate for the nightmares and subconsciously relived trauma that had him waking up breathless and sweaty.

On worse nights, he’d shoot up into an upright position, gasping for air as you frantically tried to calm him down while fighting off sleep.

“Kat, Katsuki,” you’d groan, putting a hand on his bare chest to ground him. “It’s okay, it was just a dream, you’re okay.”

Katsuki would lace his sweaty fingers through yours, both of you feeling out the rhythm of his heart while you guided him through deep breathing. Once he stopped shaking and was breathing properly, you’d pepper kisses on the sharp line of his jaw, and gently lay him back against the mattress.

On better nights, he’d catch himself before he disturbed your sleep. Inhaling sharply, eyes snapping open, and body tensing as he came to.

He always makes sure that you never wake up when he does, staying still for a minute or two, listening to your soft snores. Then, he untangles your limbs as carefully as he can, slipping out of bed and tucking you back in.

With nothing better to do after pacing your quiet, moonlit house for a few minutes, Katsuki decides he’s hungry. It’s not uncommon for him to make late night snacks, or meals rather, especially after abruptly waking up from his sleep for the nth time that week.

But tonight, he was far too tired to be making a Michelin-star-esque meal in the middle of the night. So, he settled on a bowl of cereal.

Katsuki tried not to take long on his nightly departures from the bed, but your sense of time gets altered when you’re wandering around like a zombie. And just as he was pouring his Honey Nut Cheerios, he heard you slowly walking into the kitchen.

“Everything okay, Suki?” You grumbled, wrapping your arms around his torso from behind, your head resting on his shoulder.

By the sound of your voice, you were basically still asleep. The cool silk of your bonnet sent a chill down Katsuki’s spine, he felt guilty knowing that he was the reason you were up a stumbling around the house at this hour.

“Yeah, go back to bed, baby,” he told you, pouring milk into his cereal while mixing it around with his spoon.

You kissed your teeth in protest. You weren’t going back without him, and he knew that.

A chuckle vibrated through his chest and back, and he gently guided you towards the couch, where you sat curled up against his side wrapped in a blanket while he ate, a comfortable silence between you.

You were fighting back sleep, nodding off against his shoulder, eyes barely open. Katsuki was no better, nearly falling asleep into his bowl of cereal before forcing himself into consciousness.

“Gimmie some,” you croaked, silently opening your mouth, awaiting a spoonful of sugary cereal and cold milk.

Katsuki fed you carefully, making sure not to drip anywhere, and wiping away the bit that dribbled from the corner of your lip.

You laid your head back against his shoulder, settling deeper into the couch and sighing. He kissed the top of your head, and smushed his cheek against you.

“You just kiss me with milk breath?” You grunted.

“I just fed you and I can’t even get a kiss?” Katsuki chuckled.

“Not with no milk breath, you can’t.” You retorted.

“I love you too.”

—

Taglist: @megurulvr @miirene @planetlunaa @romiantic @szaplsdropthealbum @dreampurpledreams @goldenglow149 @gender-queery @roaringlion @cosmiles @tatiquichi @kxtsxkii @lillizxzz @starsoir

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—

Thank you for reading, comments and reblogs are appreciated! Follow for more!

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his-lune · 2 months

Text

☾ bakugou katsuki masterlist ☽

-`♡´- key -`♡´-

angst (a) ;; fluff (f) ;; smut (s) ;; crack (c)

☾. one shot

ᯓ★ coming soon...

☾. series

ᯓ★ coming soon...

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wisteria-cherry · 9 months

Text

forty days and forty nights (day four!)

(i am like zooming here. nonstop writing. cant stop wont stop. slave to the grind.)

(on another note, dollar signs look weird on tumblr. $$ the line is all slanty.)

(read them all here!)

“dear?” you snapped back to attention at the sound of mrs. hatsugawa’s shaky yet relaxing voice. oftentimes the old woman called you over to talk when you weren’t too busy. oftentimes you found yourself going to her yourself.

“yes, mrs. hatsugawa?”

“you keep looking at the clock, dearie. is something the matter?”

“oh, no, mrs. hatsugawa,” you shake your head quickly. “everything is fine, i’m sorry. i’m just distracted.”

“you’re waiting for that boy,” the old woman observed keenly.

“i’m sorry,” you apologize again. she wasn’t wrong, after all. “i really don’t mean to give the impression that i don’t care about our conversations.” mrs. hatsugawa was silent for a moment, looking at you thoughtfully.

“you’re in love.” she decided. you look at her kindly. she was old, and, although it was mean to admit it, somewhat senile. she often said odd things like this.

“mrs. hatsugawa, i’m not in love. i’ve only known him for three days. besides, he’s not my type, you know that.” you replied gently. you preferred kind, sunshine-y types, ones that really showed that they cared.

“back when my husband was alive…” mrs. hatsugawa began, and you fell quiet, knowing that even if you interjected she’d continue anyway, pretending not to hear you in the sly way old women tended to do. “…my kazuo… he worked long hours. but he would get home at the same time every day, and i knew that time. i got antsy once it neared, and i couldn’t focus on a thing, because i was so excited to see my kazuo. i would always greet him with a hug and a kiss every day when he got home, every day for 62 years.”

“was that how long you were married?” you ask. you always enjoyed mrs. hatsugawa’s stories— her marriage, from what you gathered, was incredibly romantic. two people who absolutely adored each other. it was the sort of marriage you wanted to have if you ever got married (you weren’t sure yet, although your mother was increasing pressure on you to find someone). mrs. hatsugawa chuckled.

“oh, no, that’s how long we lived together. we were married for 64 years.” she answered.

“so you didn’t move in until you were married for two?” you tried again.

“that’s right.” mrs. hatsugawa smiled, but not at you. it was the sort of smile a person makes when they’re reminiscing; looking back at a better time in their live with nothing but love. “i was so scared to move in with my kazuo. i was a shy girl, you know.” you laughed at this. mrs. hatsugawa, although old and sometimes slow, would often spit out indignant curses whenever something bad would happen, like seeing a villain on the news.

“were you?” you asked somewhat skeptically. mrs. hatsugawa laughed, too.

“only around my kazuo. i didn’t care for anyone else.” she waved a hand. “but anywho, i was so scared to move in, but it was the best decision i’d made.”

“wasn’t marrying him the best decision?” you ask curiously.

“oh, no, dear,” mrs. hatsugawa shook her head. “that was a given. when you find the person you love in life, and that loves you, it’s only natural that you spend the rest of your life with them. that’s simply what you do when you’re in love.”

“a given?” you echo, and the woman nods.

“when you’re with the person you love, time stops, and you live forever.” mrs. hatsugawa said, although you got the sneaking impression that she wasn’t talking about the late kazuo hatsugawa anymore.

the movement of your lips that was going to become your reply was interrupted by the all-too-familiar jingle of the bells. you feel a smile creep up on your face as you stand up.

“thank you, mrs. hatsugawa,” you say, “but i have to serve this customer now.” mrs. hatsugawa gave you a knowing smile, even though you didn’t know what exactly she knew.

“alright, dear.” she said simply, returning to her oolong tea. you scurry up to the counter.

“the hell took you so long?” dynamight clicked his tongue at you. you were relieved to see that he seemed better than yesterday.

“sorry about that. i was talking with one of the customers, that’s all.” you smiled. “medium black coffee for dynamight?”

“just take my goddamn money.” dynamight impatiently tapped the bills on the counter. you did indeed ring him up as instructed, giving him time to sit in his seat. you gave him his coffee, which he went to sip, before stopping and looking up at you. you were watching him quietly, expectantly. you always tried to remember to give him a chance to actually drink his coffee before talking (it didn’t always work).

“…the fuck you staring at?” he spat. you quickly avert your gaze.

“sorry.” you apologize immediately.

“quit apologizin’. it’s annoying as hell.” dynamight rolled his eyes before sipping his coffee.

“sorry.”

“stop that.”

“i’m sorry!”

“fucking quit it!”

“so-“

“you say sorry and i’ll kill you.”

“that’s not very heroic.” you raise an eyebrow. dynamight scoffed.

“is too. i say it, and i’m the number one hero, a damn perfect example of heroism. that means it’s fuckin’ heroic.” he retorted. he did have a point.

“perfect, huh?” you hum, amused.

“yeah. you’re lucky i’m even in here right now.” dynamight informed you.

“and you’re not just here for coffee and a hiding spot.”

“i’m the great explosion murder god dynamight!” dynamight sneered. “i don’t hide like a little bitch.”

“the— the what?” you blink, totally confused at what seemed to be his hero name.

“great explosion murder god dynamight.” he repeated with a straight face. you had no idea how he kept such a straight face saying such a ridiculous name.

“that’s… your hero name?” you ask warily.

“damn straight it is. you got a fucking problem?” dynamight sneered. you exhale, not wanting to escalate the situation. you instead opt to lighten the mood.

“if that’s what i’m gonna be writing on your to-go cups, then yes,” you reply jokingly. dynamight rolled his eyes.

“i don’t get shit to go.”

“how come?” you ask curiously. dynamight bristled.

“because i just don’t! mind your own business.” he replied defensively.

“it’s okay, everyone has their preferences,” you say smoothly.

“so then fuck off and let me have mine.” dynamight sipped his coffee aggressively.

“of course.” you smiled.

“that’s… your hero name?”

“you got a fucking problem?”

“if that’s what i’m gonna be writing on your to-go cups, then yes.”

<- previous next->

(feel free to comment + leave ur thoughts :)

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pleathewrites · 25 days

Text

i am no mother, i am no bride

Rei makes the fascinating discovery that she is fireproof.

fandom: my hero academia / boku no hero academia rating: T pairings: todoroki rei x todoroki enji, todoroki rei & todoroki touya | dabi themes: todoroki rei-centric, toxic/abusive relationship study, motherhood, quirk evolution, revenge, family reunion, angst with a happy ending song: king by florence & the machine status: oneshot | 9.3k wc

click to read on ao3

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bee-saucee · 3 months

Text

Meeting the Friends | Kaminari Denki Character Study

pairing: ShinKami

cw: self doubt/mild anxiety and intimacy

words: 1,002

summary: Kaminari meets Shinsou's friends for the first time. Despite pressure to please his boyfriend's friend group, Denki does his best to show up as himself with the help of Shinsou.

Meeting the friends almost seemed more daunting than meeting the parents. Denki knew how to wear parents down like it was nothing. But not-parents and specifically Shinsou’s friends were much harder to read.

“I have a lot going for me, but being all cool and having opinions about 90s punk rock isn’t really one of them. I just think maybe we should meet another day after I’ve done some more homework on Iron Maiden or whatever.”

Shinsou’s fingers pause in their perusal of Denki’s hair. “Punk rock is really more of a mid 70s to 80s thing and Iron Maiden is more heavy metal–” pillow smack because Denki really didn’t need to hear he was hopeless in posing as alt. “Okay, that was deserved, but I was going to finish that you don’t have to be punk. Just lay on your Denki charm and you’ll be just fine.”

“Goths hate Denki charm!”

“And how would you know that?”

“Because they hate happiness?”

“If anything they want too much of it.” Denki groans gutterally and pulls Shinsou to straddle over top of him. “I’m seriously loving this whole boyfriend thing, but this was easier when we were friends with bens so I didn’t have to meet your friends.”

“You’re overthinking,” Shinsou says and places a soft kiss on Denki’s lips.

He never thought Shinsou would be so…charming. As Denki peeled away the layers of stoic anxiety and insecurities, he was left with an incredibly empathetic and doting partner.

Shinsou had insisted that he was a loner, yet he had a handful of unique people he fell right into step with. He never wanted Shinsou to lose his friends but damn did Denki wish that Hitoshi's friends were easier for him to understand.

“I know, like, two Nirvana songs,” Denki grumbles.

“That’s amazing, baby,” Shinsou says before peeling himself off an opposed Denki.

Denki didn’t want to be clingy with uncomfortable public displays of affection but he couldn’t think of another way to get through this whole ordeal. Maybe he’d just try to stay close enough to Shinsou’s side so he could smell the particular mix of coffee and vanilla bean that lingered from his hours at the cafe and his affinity for sweet cologne.

Denki hops up off his bed and goes for few jumps to hype himself up. It was go time. By the time they made the very anxiously talkative drive to the small diner, Jirou and Tokoyami already had a table at the back where the seats looked particularly sticky and grimey in a people have definitely had sex here kind of way.

Big smiles, and…”It’s so nice to finally meet you both! I’ve heard so much about you both. Not to be that embarrassing guy, but Jirou, Hitoshi loves your new music and so do I. Tokoyami, gotta get a tarot reading from you sometime. I’ve never gotten one but you unlocked a new need in me,” Denki says.

Jirou tilts her head to the side with a slight smile while Tokoyami shuts his eyes and nods simply. He wasn’t expecting the two to be particularly expressive so he could work with this. These were Hitoshi’s closest friends, though. More charm, more charisma.

“So, any reason for this place in particular? Not that it’s bad! It just seems like a very particular spot to pick,“ Denki says as he slides into the booth after Shinsou.

Gosh, he just insulted the restaurant they picked. Maybe the food was fantastic and he was being overly judgemental.

“The decrepit atmosphere makes the dining experience feel less corporate. We can support a failing business that needs it rather than lubricate the cogs of industrial agriculture and dining.”

Okay…so Kaminari had almost no clue what that meant. He never knew what he was talking about though so this was like any other conversation. Deep breath, he could deal.

“I’ma be honest, I never think about…industrial agriculture while I’m eating but that is the definition wicked. Hopefully I’ll be more justice driven the longer I’m with Toshi.”

He looks over and dear God, Hitoshi looked like he’d been stabbed in the knee with how tightly he was clutching it under the table and the sallow look of his pale skin. He was so focused on his own nerves he completely forgot that adding Denki into the mix meant that this was a new social situation and that always led Hitoshi to overthink. Poor thing was probably running through 20 different potential reactions for the first thing he said.

Denki takes Hitoshi’s hand under the table and runs slow circles against his thumb. Boyfriend first, boyfriend’s friends second.

“My sweet pea pod, I think I saw they have burgers for me and grilled cheese for you. Plus,” he taps his foot against Hitoshi’s under the table, “We could share a milkshake if you want. I’ll be so fine to get vanilla if it means I can share thick, sweet, cow piss with you.”

Shinsou’s shoulders slowly lower and the glazed look over his eyes quickly settles with each of Denki’s words.

“Is this now the fifth time we’ve had the milk is not cow piss discussion?” Shinsou says with that exasperatedly fond smile he reserves just for Denki.

“Six. And I don’t wanna hear anything until you go to agriculture school. Or, actually! I trust your friends, they seem wicked smart. Is milk just sussed up cow piss?”

Jirou slides over a paper crane she was folding. “I like you, Denki.”

“I want to say no, but I also don’t know where cows pee from,” Tokoyami admits.

“And I love you Tokoyami. At least someone gets me here.”

Shinsou turns fully to Denki with a slight cock to his head from the side. He taps the tip of Denki’s fingernail lightly before pecking him on the cheek.

“I love you like crazy. Thanks for being here,” Shinsou whispers.

“Wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

“You’re doing great by the way.”

“I want you to rail me so hard when we get home,” Denki gushes.

“Sure.”

Thanks for reading! Check out my masterlist for more.

#shinkami #shinsou x kaminari #denki x hitoshi #denki x shinsou #my hero academia fanfic #denki kaminari #hitoshi shinsou #bnha fanfic #kamishin #my hero acadamia #bnha #bnha oneshot #mha oneshot #character study #bee saucee writes #anxiety tw #anxiety content #anxiety

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dancingbabya-notes · 1 year

Text

Wooing a Bakugo

<-♡—♡—♡—♡—♡—♡—♡—♡—♡—♡—♡—♡ —♡—♡—♡—♡—♡—♡ ->

Have I mentioned Bakugo might be one of my top three favorite characters recently? No? here you go I will not apologize

Bakugo x oc

This is just a quick little oneshot, not much actual like details but I liked it enough.

<-♡—♡—♡—♡—♡—♡—♡—♡—♡—♡—♡—♡ —♡—♡—♡—♡—♡—♡ ->

It took three years for this man to acknowledge you as an equal. Bakugo Katsuki, or better known as the pro-hero: Dynamite. During second year of high school, you participated in a program to transfer schools to Japan’s Yueei Academy. With your aptitude, you placed high and transferred into class A. Your quirk was what you called Spatial Apparition, the ability to move from one fixed point to another you only needed to occupy that space or see it within your distance radius.

Right now, it was quiet only the sound of footsteps could be heard as you tried to grasp your location. With a slight tap on your goggles, night vision was activated. It was a warehouse, you were working on a capture and rescue mission with Red Riot, Charge Bolt, Dynamite and Uravity. The area appeared clear, once double checking you mumble.

“Seems clear, except I’m only reading three figures here. Anyone know where the fourth guy is?” You mumble.

You heard the thud as you whipped around. “Be more aware of your surroundings space cadet.”

His term of endearment. “Awe, you care. Now go back to your position. If you get too close the gas will explode.”

He hesitates. “Can’t leave your side then.”

With a huff, you grumble. “Anyone got eyes on the target?”

“They’re gonna move, you need to go now while I handle this,” Red Riot states.

“I’m here too,” Chargebolt grumbles.

Grabbing hold of the tall man you activate your quirk, moving to the desired position you smile. A child was abducted, she has a quirk to replicate medication that she consumes.

“Hi sweetheart,” you crouch down, her pink hair was disheveled and there were signs of previous restraint on her arms and legs.

“You’re not gonna feed me the icky stuff, right?” She whimpers.

Shaking your head, you hold out your hand. “I’m here to take you back home, wanna go home?”

Her small hand reaches for yours. Dynamite was impatient, but you move him a few meters away. The little girl climbs into your hold, she felt like a skeleton in your arms, but you wrap the holds on her.

“I don’t wanna go home, but here is a bad place too,” she whispers.

Patting her head gently you nod. Before you notice the door opens, it wasn’t Red Riot or Chargebolt. You run to Dynamite moving the three of you out of the building where Chargebolt should have been.

“What’s going on?” He grumbles.

“Looks like we have to retrieve Red and Pikachu,” you sigh.

With another tap, you open the digital interface in your goggles. Locking on the locations of Chargebolt and Red Riot you pin them.

“Dynamite, Uravity, I’m going to send you to a location where our teammates should be, once retrieved alert me and head for the rendezvous,” you explain.

“Omniv, I’m already with Red Riot. I’m headed there now,” Uravity states.

You nod.

“Go get our Pokémon, Dynamite,” you chuckle sending him away with a snap.

Checking on the girl she seemed calmer, still frazzled but you pop to the agreed location. An alley a few hundred meters away.

“Lady, are you a hero?” She asks quietly.

“Mhmm,” you nod.

She nods. “Can you protect me from my Daddy and Mommy?”

You pause. Seeing the orange and green uniform you bring the two figures closer. Dynamite and an unconscious Chargebolt, with a glance up you see the other two team members.

“Dynamite, um would you be able to vouch for me?” You ask.

“Huh?” He looked confused.

The little girl peeks through the bundle that you use to hold civilians that are unable to move on their own. “I want her to protect me from my mommy and daddy.”

His eyes go wide. “Omniv, try not to get into too much trouble.”

“Omniv, we’re coming down,” Uravity calls as she drops down.

It was a moment before you return your team to your headquarters. Instantaneously you were surrounded by medics and others. You kept the bundle close to you.

“Omniv what are you doing?” One asks.

“I don’t remember who filed for the report, can someone enlighten me?” You state.

A hesitant voice. “Her parents.”

You narrow your eyes. “Alright, until we have a permanent quirk limiter placed on her I’m not letting this girl go.”

“Huh? But we can’t just get one right now,” someone groans.

“Well looks like she’ll be staying with me,” you assert.

Two weeks, after rescuing the small girl she started living with you. A temporary solution that was going to change today. From across the room your phone went off, pushing off the couch you pick it up seeing your manager.

“Omniv, after cross-examining and a quick check. You were right, where did you learn about the young girl’s abuse?” She sounded tired.

Leaning against your counter you shake your head. “I didn’t, there were bruises on her from being restrained and they weren’t holding her down or anything when we went to pick her up.”

“Yes, Dynamite informed me,” she sighs. “What are you gonna do now?”

Peeking over the couch you see the toddler asleep. Her quirk has barely manifested, and she was taken, your heart lay with her, but your job left little free time.

“How long would it take for me to get an approval for adoption?” You ask.

“She’d have to stay at the orphanage for a little bit then...” you stopped her.

“No, I mean get a caseworker in here and survey my apartment for acceptable living conditions. I’ve been meaning to take a break,” you chuckle.

Granted you had finally placed in the top thirty for heroes, but you knew that this was just gonna pull you apart.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she grumbles. “Also, Dynamite would like you to contact him.”

You felt your face tense. “I’ll do that as soon as I have time.”

After that call, you look at the phone. On cue, it rings. Picking it up you wait for shouting.

“Hey, Mere,” Usually Bakugo wouldn’t waste time with hellos, he’d get straight to the point.

“Hi, Tsuki.” You mumble.

“How’s the little brat?” He seemed to be having a hard time.

“Well, she’s sleeping now. But I managed to get her to eat food again, that gelatin thing helped,” you sigh.

“Look, I know that we’ve only been at this for what two years, but are you sure?” He asks.

About what? “Nope, no idea what you’re asking mister cryptic man. Please speak in Japanese or English.”

You can practically hear his chest rumble. “Don’t fuck with me, are you serious about doing less hero work?”

Catching yourself, you try not to fall. “It’s only a small break. What, I can’t take local hero work or being a sidekick a try?” Arguing, you pout.

“What could be so important that you become a sidekick instead?” He scoffs.

“Adopting a kid,” you mumble.

“When did it change to that?” He was quiet.

“I dunno. It wasn’t on a whim either I thought about it. With any luck I can enroll her in daycare and start back up again,” you explain.

He was quiet, something unusual for Bakugo. “I’m coming over.”

“When?”

“Right now, I’m at your complex,” he grumbles.

From room to room you ran about grabbing the little girl a blanket, she had adapted your routine and would be sleeping for two hours. Once sure everything was in its place you heard the knock, it was rough but not loud. Walking to the living room to the door you open it to see the tall man.

“Come in,” you mutter.

Putting his shoes in the box you watch as he makes his way to the couch.

“Pretty defenseless,” he huffs.

“She’s three, what did you expect?” You sigh.

“What made you change your mind?” Bakugo sits on the open couch.

You look at the sleeping child. “Reminds me of a friend I lost. I’m not doing this out of pity or sympathy, I want to adopt her. She was fighting it, she didn’t understand what she was fighting, but she fought until she didn’t have a way to fight. Apparently, her parents sold her for money, my friend Ikumi helped me find that out.”

“I know who you're talking about, Sightseer, what else did you find out?” You slide into the seat next to him.

“She’s not the only one, with Sighseer’s help I found out that she’s just the youngest. And that they send requests to have the child found under kidnapping,” you utter, hands wringing around your wrists a nervous habit.

Bakugo nods. “Alright, I’ll report this. But I’d rather blow their ass’s sky high.”

“Thank you.” Smiling you lean against him.

Bakugo didn’t move, for a moment then you felt his hand on your lower back.

“I’m gonna have enough soon when you get back in the field come to my company,” he grumbles.

Peeking up through heavy bangs you chuckle. “You're not gonna let me get away from you that easily, will you?”

“Speaking of that, is the room still available?” He asks.

“You’re the only one I’ve told about it, why do you ask?”

Bakugo was like an explosion much like his quirk, somehow you carried feelings for this man for three years. Even now you found more ways to love him, it wasn’t like a slow fall in love either. Back at Yueei you were practicing with him as your sparring partner, somehow you were just a half-second off from moving out of his blast but ended up pinned by him. The explosion a few centimeters from your face took a large section of your long hair at the time, but you saw how much he accepted his mistake after.

“Where do you keep your replacements?” He calls.

“The closet in the bathroom hallway,” you mumble.

Small hands pull at your apron. “Ma, ma! Look I finished!” Boasts the little girl.

The girl in question had a new name now five months after the incident you got custody of the little girl that was now named Misyu.

“Oh, look at how pretty. Go show, Tsuki,” you chuckle.

She was holding a small clay family, watching her carefully walk away. You wait for Bakugo’s usually indifferent replies.

“You're getting better kid,” he states.

“Lunch is ready by the way, I gotta go to the office,” you yawn.

Putting the apron back in its hook you watch as the two walk back into the main sitting room. After talking to your landlord, you made changes to your lease since Misyu was a permanent addition and Bakugo was helping with finances.

“Ma,” you pause at the whine.

She calls you Ma for some reason you didn’t argue. “Yes, Misyu?”

“When are you and Tsuki gonna get married?” She asks.

Blinking you look to the man for a reply. He smirks.

“Misyu, we’re getting married in a few months,” Bakugo informs her.

This was news to you. The wait was the ground always this close. Looking around you, you realize that your legs gave out. Suddenly you wanted to hide in a hole because your ears felt warm and pulling the hood over your face you curl into a ball.

“Tsuki, I think you broke Mama,” she points out.

“It’s alright, she’ll get over it in a moment,” he laughs.

“Fuck you,” you grumble.

A laugh. “Maybe later.”

Bolting you grab your keys and walk to the door. “I’m going to work; I’ll be back soon. Please behave. And we will have words when I return, don’t give Misyu too much cake.”

You were gonna marry the most stubborn man with an ego bigger than All might’s merch line.

#pro hero dynamight #prohero bakugo x prohero oc #prohero oc #bnha x reader #oneshot #bnha oneshot #bnha oc #bnha prohero oc

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