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thelastsirenssong · 1 year

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Thoughts on returning from a hero gala with Bakugou?

The evening was full of shouts and guffaws, pats on his back, hands that shook his in congratulations, and silent challenge, that those hands may surpass him in the future, while he smiled on. Invigorated, by the promise of getting to stand over them once again in the years to come. But as the night went on things died down, and like a true hero Deku was the last to leave, helping staff pick up after the event, and Bakugou, like a true rival, insisted on helping better than him, as a soft drizzle began outside, so that when you said your goodbyes and entered the valet car, the moon was full, and the rain mild, as you drove home, your head on his chest, his hand tangled in yours. The weather in Japan tends to turn cold with a bright and rising sun, ever characteristic of the country. But today it made the leap with cloud and distant thunder, and you tuck yourself further into his chest as you drive through the glistening city.

"You cold?" He grunts the question into your ear, and you shrug, even in the heating of the vehicle and your shivering, and he grunts again and pushes you gently off of him as you protest lightly with a soft whine.

"Aw shut the hell up, it's just for a sec." And it is, you are separated from him for just a moment as he makes quick work of his grey suit jacket, throwing it over your shoulders and scowling as he adjusts it, tugging the lapels over your chest.

"Feel better?" You look into his eyes, scarlet gone wine dark in the frigid evening storm, and his focus on you is something unfamiliar, something that reads like a rough draft of a story you already know the ending to, and you squirm, and avert your gaze, uncomfortable under the intensity.

"I guess," you mutter, and he scoffs a laugh, pulling your head back into him as you sigh, and he places his chin gently over you.

"Next time remind me not to give it to you, ungrateful ass." He's smiling, you feel it in his thumb, where it needles gently at the back of your hand.

"You have a good time?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Was proud to see you up there."

"You fuckin' better be."

"And to see you help clean up, after the fact."

"Was just beating Deku to it."

You squeeze his hand, and he squeezes back, drawing himself closer to you, impossibly. You feel his quickened heartbeat in the grip he has on you, and you squeeze his hand again, to reassure, but his grip stays just as tight.

"Listen."

You hum in question, and you feel it, whatever nitroglycerin like substance produced by his palms stains your own fingerprints. He's breaking out into a sweat, in the frigid early winter air.

"Katsuki?"

A million lights twinkle, they all pass in a blinding blur, as the rain turns to sleet.

"Don't ever let me get soft, you hear me? 'M never not gonna be at the top, so don't let me fucking slack."

You laugh, something soft, and bright, and true. "You'll always be number one to me, Katsuki, slacking or not."

"Not the fucking point." His eyes read of nonfiction, and of fairytale, combined impossibility in the truth of his unwavering gaze. Confidence, that denotes raw honestly. He will never leave you- and he begs this silent, desperate plea: that in this car, and in the words unsaid inbetween puffed breath, you make and honor the same vow. You run your thumb over the back of his hand, and it grows hotter.

"Okay."

The sleet falls, miserable and cold, and his coat keeps you warm, while your ear to his chest does the same for his heart.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bro..... bro #< .siren under a queue moon 🌙. >#like. like. he said. forever. but. he didn't. u kno. he does that #I feel like he DOES say it eventually but he like to say things without saying them first as a test run LMAO #he's scared!!!!#not proof read WE DIE LIKE MEN!!!!

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thelastsirenssong · 1 year

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Y'all the Deku hit so hard tonight idk WHAT happened

It's the over thinking when he holds your hand. It's soft and small in his, his calloused and scarred hand- and he thinks, this is his life. Protecting and serving. And when you look into his eyes with a soft smile he's torn in half. Where would there be room, when would there be time, for this again? For your puffed laughter into the shell of his ear, for the small of your back pushed against his stomach as you dream? You say something full of love, and kindness, and patience, and he lets go of your hand, and smiles at you. He loves you, he loves you so much he could burst at the seams, he is a hero made into nothing but a freckled boy in your presence. He cannot be both. And you deserve for someone to be always be present, when you need them. He is a hero, lover to not one, but all. He lets go of your hand, and you look at him quizzically, while he sits next to you on your couch. He smiles at you, soft, and boyish, and Midoriya.

"I love you." You smile back, and he runs his hand behind you on the sofa cushion.

"I love you too." Deku, he reminds himself. You deserve more than Deku.

#bitch....#I did this to myself i listened to my Deku playlist and it's so sad LMAO #I'm always sobbing like I CAN FIX HIM!!! I CAN DO IT!!!#I can't no one can expect a licensed professional Deku x therapy where's the love for this tag hm #here I'll tag it fr just to hurt everyone LMAO I'M SORRYYYYY #deku x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #TADA #here I'll queue it too #< .siren under a queue moon 🌙. >

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thelastsirenssong · 2 years

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You ever get four hours of sleep and wake up to dawn filling the horizon, and at the first spilling of the rose gold ink of the morning sun onto the roof of every home do you ever wonder what that sun might look like staining the soft cheek of Hawks as he sits on a rooftop, sipping coffee and watching the sun rise? The warmth of the sun and his cup on a humid morning making him squirm, just a little- he'd abandoned his jacket at the beginning of the season, when the first of the cicadas started their singing, but in the long sleeves and gloves of his costume he's still muggy, and he snorts softly to himself, shielding a bit of the sun away from his eyes with a scarlet wing as he wonders if he'd be crowded more doing patrol without a shirt. But, try as he might, he can't imagine the crowds of people jeering at him- he can't imagine the girls cat calling, the elders scolding him to set a better example, the children gawking in surprise or the men who would roll their eyes. No, he truly can't.

All he really can imagine, staring out at the beauty of a waking world receiving the first ink of light from the heavens, is you.

Would you laugh at him, would you scorn him gently upon first seeing him at the agency, and wish him luck on his patrol, it is pretty hot out there being more than an admission, but an endorsement of his childish behavior? Would you watch his wave as he flew off with a humored incredulity, your eyes giving a soft, kind roll? It's a nice image, he does like it, but more of the sun rises, and the rose gold warms the plush cupid's bow of his lips, and he wonders with another small sip of his saccharine coffee if he'd catch you bashful, if the landing of your eyes on his bare chest would send you into a panic, the initial surprise melting from your face and warming the apples of your cheeks. Would you turn away and steal glances? Or would you continue to stare? Would you be bold enough to shrug with a subtle agreement if he made a comment, or would your embarrassment seep into the space between the two of you and widen it as you hurried off with some lie: that it's fine, that he can do what he wants and it doesn't matter, really, you're busy, and so is he, you'll hardly see him.

He doesn't know. And he never will, he supposes, as he makes to rise from the rooftop alongside the sun, he figures that he'll have all day to ruminate on the idea, but beyond that heroes don't have time to fuck around and find out, at least not heroes like him, at least not in that way. His rise into the sky is a slow one. The heat, the humidity of the day weighs on him like heavy dew, and his coffee is almost forgotten, until his phone rings, and he reaches into his pocket to answer.

"This is Hawks."

"Hey bird brain, did you already have coffee?" He can't remember the last time he had a glass of water, but he imagines your voice has the same cooling, refreshing effect. He resolves to himself, the next time he's in a conbini, to go for the spring water.

"Bird brain, that's colorful. I did though, yeah. Why, 'dyou make me some?" A scoff leaves you, with the explosiveness of a geyser.

"Very funny Hawks, I don't get paid to do that, I'm not your assistant."

"I could up your pay for that." You sputter on the other end of the phone. He imagines your flustered scowl, and he can't help the way he soars a little higher in the sky, heaviness of heat and dew forgotten.

"Just to make you coffee?"

"Well and maybe if you'd do my scheduling, so I'd have more free time." To spend with you, goes unsaid, it drifts out and paints itself together with the colors of morning, dashing a different color ink on storefronts and school roofs, some things better left to be seen.

"The commission does that, I thought?"

And with the storefronts and the schools and the abandoned buildings and defunct koban- save for the ones being repurposed for local heroes- Fukuoka looks beautiful, from his vantage point in the sky. If he really squints he can see the ruins of Fukuoka castle, something he's never seen up close, but knows it must be imposing. It must be, as something that once ruled over a city, a people, before a revolution. He flies a little higher, and it gets smaller.

"Yeah I was thinking maybe we could change that. Starting with the coffee." You hum over the phone line and he has to remember that he's supposed to be doing his job, not trying to catch clouds. Crime, with the number two hero stationed in the city and being aligned with the league of villains is rare these days, but keeping his guard up and keeping his mouth shut is what keeps it that way.

"Well sadly I didn't make anything for you. Just... got a wrong order, but they let me keep it. It's... some kind of frap? I thought you might like it, but. If you've had some already I guess I'll try someone else." You were his first call. That truth too goes unspoken, and you both allow it, because the dawn has broken, and it is now day, and there is work to be done.

"But that doesn't sound like a bad idea, Hawks. Maybe I'll take you up on it some other day."

"Mm. Some other day," he repeats with a sickly smile, and you make a sound, bubbling brook, reproachful river. "I mean it depends on how much you pay me."

"Would be an offer you couldn't refuse," he guarantees with a seriousness, and when you hum again, the sound doubtful, and playful, he tastes one, he thinks. He really is high enough to taste the gathered drops of water that cling to the heavens.

Maybe, he muses, maybe after patrol, when he has time, he'll corner you, with the clouds in his lungs, and maybe you'll see them, somewhere in his bare chest.

#me? with hawks thoughts? preposterous #what is it abiut getting fucking no sleep snd waking up feeling like SHIT thst makes you think of hawks #uuuh how you tag #y'all be searching these tags? LMAOOOWNFJWNDNWN #< .siren under a queue moon 🌙. >#is this a bad queue time? PROBABLY #do I care? mmmm I should LMAOO #but it's the VIBES it's the morning VIBES #hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader

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