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ozzgin · 4 months

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Ozzgibz my lord may we have just one more crumb of pickle content pls pls pls🙏🙏🙏

Like I have an idea, reader as pickles mother🧐 like like like U wake up together after many many years

Not just a crumb, but an entire loaf! :D I will use this chance to finally finish all of the Pickle related requests I currently have. (At least I hope I haven’t omitted anything). So you may consider this a Pickle megathread, containing multiple requests put together.

Pickle Headcanons: A collection

Featuring Pickle and Reader: Pickle’s Mother! Reader, Pickle trying modern treats, Pickle and his newborn, Pickle x Student! Reader and Pickle x OP! Reader.

Pickle’s Mother! Reader

You wake up surrounded by heavy, intricate machinery and at a certain point it occurs to you just how long your slumber has been. Ah, that explains the peaceful, uninterrupted rest. You can’t recall the last time you slept this well. And, like clockwork, you hear the humans scream mere seconds after you stretch your rusted bones. A familiar growl jolts you back into action. Being frozen for millennia sadly doesn’t strip you of your motherly role.

With a groan, you rip the medical cords away from your body, indifferent to the frightened stares of the scientists currently unsure of your intentions. They needn’t be afraid for long. With the calculated movements of someone that has been doing this one too many times, you walk towards the source of ruckus and return with Pickle under your arm. It’s almost as if you’re wearing an invisible hero cape: the research team can finally relax knowing Pickle’s fearsome mother is here to keep him under control.

This arrangement now poses an interesting dilemma: how will the fights unfold under the watchful gaze of a protective, Jurassic mom? Should the fighters be worried about a vengeful counterattack if they’re too hasty with your son? The first one to test the waters is Retsu, and before he enters the arena you place a heavy hand on his shoulder, briefly guiding him aside. He nervously watches your gestures as you pretend to beat up an invisible opponent. Are you showing him potential punishments? Then you give him a friendly nudge and point to Pickle. Realization sinks in and he stares at you, wide eyed. You’re giving him advice on how to give Pickle a proper beating. Well, obviously. If they’re going to challenge your menace of a son, they should at least make it worthwhile. Rough him up a little. At the end of the day, it’s less work for you.

Pickle tries modern treats

Pickle would probably lose his mind with any carbonated drink or sweet flavor. He never had access to this amount of sugar, so I’m wondering if he’d think it’s poisonous once he becomes agitated from the abrupt intake. Nice, exquisite smell and a vibrant color that tempts him enough to give it a try. Next thing you know, the liquid sizzles in his mouth and he panics, but eventually settles down. Then his heartbeat increases and he’s squirming under the confused stares of the fighters (who initially offered him the drink), until Professor Payne points out his body might not be accustomed to our levels of sugar. The real trouble starts once he can handle the unhealthy snacks, because someone will have to stop him from overeating. (To be fair I’ve also never had a Baja Blast, seems less popular/available in Europe but it looks nice.)

Pickle unable to care for his baby

They say your life flashes before your eyes as you die and you certainly gazed upon a delectable bunch of recollections when the prehistoric man swung his massive body towards you, growling threateningly. They were hoping the fighters could keep him entertained long enough for you to feed the baby, but it seems his fatherly instincts (that he’s otherwise lacking) trumped his need for battle. Thankfully, he stops right before his clawed hand touches your frightened face. For the first time he sees his newborn eating, the puffy cheeks expanding with each gulp of the mysterious bottled liquid you’re providing.

Well, if all you’re doing is feeding his child, he might as well keep you around. You certainly don’t look like a threat, even less so than the men he just faced in the Arena. To the relief of everyone witnessing the spectacle, you get to live and handle the baby. Not like you have significantly more experience when it comes to taking care of infants, but with the help of the scientists you manage to ease Pickle into his parenting role.

All this time spent together has reminded Pickle just how much he misses the presence of a second parent. The baby likes you, you seem to be rather knowledgeable about these matters, and you’re extremely cute if he is to be fully honest with himself. The Jurassic man can’t help the faint smile gracing his features whenever he pictures it: you make a nice family, wouldn’t you agree?

Pickle x Student! Female Reader

You’ve learned to ignore the bewildered stares. Thankfully, this time, the only unusual sight consists of Pickle’s gargantuan size and nothing else. He’s dressed in modern attire and has since learned to behave better in public. You recall the first encounters, where an almost naked Jurassic creature kept following you around and wouldn’t take no for an answer. It took you several weeks to figure out he’s interested in you, and you eventually relented. Naturally you couldn’t have gone outside with a wild jungle beast donning a fundoshi and nothing else. So you did your best to instill modern customs into your new boyfriend.

And, for the most part, it worked. He’s sitting with you on a campus bench, politely waiting for you to finish your rough sketch. He enjoys watching your drawing process, especially if he’s the subject of the piece. A giddy feeling overwhelms him, almost as if he’s being physically touched with each stroke of the pencil. The fact that you observe him so carefully, and then somehow reproduce the image so accurately on paper…It entertains him greatly. Sadly he can’t return the favor. You’ve offered him drawing tools before in case he wanted to join your creative hobby, but there was no dormant Botticelli in his soul waiting to be awakened.

While he may not share your artistic inclination, you can at least be assured that no threat will ever reach your proximity again. His hands were built for battle and he makes sure you witness this truth on every occasion. No fight begins without your presence in the Underground Arena. As much as you feel for his battered opponents, the whole ordeal results in very neat action frames. You leave the matches with brand new batches of doodles. Who would’ve thought you’d find your muse in a prehistoric man? Additionally, if you ever need some extra cash, there’s always the option of delving into erotic art. After all, you have access to any reference you could ever need and Pickle would be most eager to help you.

Pickle x OP! Reader

@mariahvilla569

So this was a little difficult because I wasn’t sure whether Reader is overpowered in relation to someone in particular or just the whole Bakiverse. I went for a Reader who’s stronger than everyone else.

Pickle was very confused when he met you for the first time, standing in the audience of the Underground Arena to observe his match with Retsu. He was instantly smitten and was about to discard any intention of a fight to immediately pursue you instead, but he was stopped by multiple men forming a barrier before you and an angered Retsu demanding his undivided attention. He assumed you must be someone’s partner and therefore he’ll have to win his way to you. He couldn’t have guessed in a million years that you were politely allowing everyone else to have their fun before you swiftly cashed in your victory.

You did have enough grace to take your time with the prehistoric man. He doesn’t doubt that if you so desired, you could’ve ended the battle within mere moments; but just like the rest of the men, you wanted your fair share of entertainment. This way Pickle was also offered a sample of your exquisite skills, which made all the fighters before you fade into nothingness. Truly astonishing that a human half his size would tower above him in terms of raw power. He was left beyond impressed and his initial crush has avalanched into a full blown obsession.

Just because you’re stronger doesn’t mean he can’t fulfill the duties of a protective partner. Consider it a way to efficiently save time, as whoever isn’t strong enough to get past him isn’t worth your precious time. Not to mention that Pickle has come to view your sparring sessions as a special form of intimacy reserved for him and you only. If you need to train, he should suffice as an opponent. There’s no one else as sturdy as him, and you’re always in a great mood after a proper fight, so he’d be an utter fool not to take advantage of it.

#baki #baki the grappler #baki hanma #baki headcanons #pickle baki #pickle x reader #baki x reader

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lou-struck · 2 years

Text

Bumper to Bumper

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

~ The explosion hero acts a little villainous on his favorite Theme Park ride.

Bumper Cars

This is yet another part of my 300 followers event which you could find HERE.

Although it took a lot of begging, pleading, and promises of affection, you finally managed to convince your boyfriend to go to the amusement park with you.

(Although you did have an inkling that he secretly wanted to go all along.)

It’s amazing how civilian wear can disguise even the most popular pro heroes when walking through a crowd. If Katsuki doesn't have a hero suit he can make it a whole day without being recognized. Especially when he is surrounded by so many sights and sounds that compete for their attention.

You happily go through your day of playing games and riding rides not getting interrupted by any ‘Extras’.

You can tell he has been enjoying himself as well but it's frustrating that Katsuki doesn't tell you what he wants to do. You may not be a telepath but you have gotten pretty good at guessing what he wants to do.

As of right now, you can tell that he wants to go in the bumper cars but isn't going to tell you. This makes you want to tease him just a bit. Leaning against his broad frame you hum. “Suki, what do you want to do next?”

“I dunno,” he shrugs “it all seems to be the same to me.” His seemingly indifferent attitude slightly infuriates you because you know he’s trying not to seem overly eager.

“You have to answer, Suki” you tease “Or else ill choose something that you really won't like.”

Clearing his throat he stares at you and clenches his fist, “You don't mean-”

“I do, if you don't pick a ride then we get to go on that one boat ride with the singing dolls.”

Your threat reaches his ears and he clenched his jaw in defeat “Fine let's go in the bumper cars.” Happy that you have finally gotten a straight answer from your boyfriend you take his warm hand in yours and walk to the start of the line.

You are able to see others enjoying themselves playing crashing into one another with the safety of the bumper cars. Some people are aggressive, and some people are downright brutal. You guess that’s why Bakugou likes them so much, pummeling villains during patrol is one thing, but he cant pummel a law-abiding citizen for inconveniencing him in public, not legally anyway.

The loophole that the attraction allows makes for the perfect outlet for his rage. He can hit people as hard as he wants to without consequence.

Suddenly something hard crashes into your shoulder. Turning your head you see that it is the group of rowdy teens behind you. They keep shoving eachother and just causing a scene that makes everyone around them uncomfortable.

“Hey, save the bumping for the cars.” you joke rubbing the spot on your arm. The teens continue to ignore you and one of them gets solved and steps on your foot hard.

“Oi, watch it. Don’t ya see you’re bumping into people.” your boyfriend scolds coming to your defense. They roll their eyes and completely ignore him choosing instead to continue roughhousing.

In response to the delinquent rudeness, He clenched his fist and is about to tell them off but you stop him. “Hey, let's ignore them for now. We’re next.”

With a shaky exhale he lets the tension out of his body but he still has a look of murder in his eyes. “Fine, they’re not worth it, but are you okay?”

“I’m fine, those little shits just need to be taught a lesson,” you grumble

With a nod, you step to the platform ready to get strapped into your car. Yours is an angry red color while Katsuki gets into an orange and black one that screams danger and destruction.

You can feel the protective blood lust radiating off of him as he scans his regulated battleground spotting the teens from earlier getting into their own karts. When the gate closes and the buzzer sounds the car springs to life.

Katsuki speeds away on a warpath bashing into anyone and everyone in the way of his revenge, He crashes into the first car hard. It spins away as he continues on his destructive path grinning like a madman enjoying the fact he’s able to let out all of his aggression without actually hurting anyone.

For a moment you forget that you’re actually sitting in a bumper car yourself until someone rams into yours and causes you to spin into the edge. Play full blood list closet your vision as you two join your boyfriend on a destructive warpath.

You hit person after person watching them satisfyingly spin off into another group with a maniacal smirk on your face. You always keep an eye on Katsuki who still keeps targeting the teenagers laughing the ugliest chuckle you’ve ever heard.

‘That’s my idiot’ you think to yourself as he once again crashes into the teens. you have a feeling they are so discombobulated they don’t know who or what is hitting them.

The ride ends and the cars come to a stop. Stretching your legs outside of a cramped car you see that some people don’t yet have their sea legs, they sway and clutch at the fence for balance like baby deer.

The group from earlier certainly is worse for wear, an attendant hast to physically help each of them out of the car as they stumbled to the gate.

“I got ‘em,” your boyfriend's gruff voice declares behind you. Turning around you see him slightly swaying back-and-forth no doubt a result of his aggressive actions.

“ That wasn’t very heroic Suki.” You tease bumping into him slightly. He stumbles but recovers with a giddy expression on his face.

“Nah, I was just toughening them up a bit,” he mumbles, his cheeks a shade pinker than normal. Grabbing your hand in his larger one, he pulls you back towards the start of the line that's cleared out a bit after your display of goodnatured violence “Let’s go again!”

#bnha x reader #bnha fluff #my hero academia #bnha #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo fluff #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #katsuki x reader #bakugou fanfiction #bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugo katuski #bakugou katuski x reader #Katsuki bakugou

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sergio-para-siempre · 1 year

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can i ask what your thoughts are on sergio x luka :)

of course you can :) i'm just not sure my answer is gonna make me all that popular on here, because to be completely honest it's one of the few Sergio ships i actually dislike quite a bit. There are a lot of Sergio ships that i don't really care about, like i don't ship them, i would never write them, but i do occasionally read fic with them if it's well written, but with Sergio/Luka i tend to avoid any kind of content because it annoys me in a way that is admittedly not entirely rational.

and the thing is, i can't even properly explain why. They do have an amazing friendship off the pitch and i love how well they get along and there is quite a lot of adorable content of them out there, so i totally get why people ship them. And maybe it's because i'm completely indifferent to Luka, but it probably doeesn't come as much of a surprise, when i say i mostly only care about Sergio anyway.

There's just something about the way people ship/write them that puts me off. It's almost a bit like back when Seriker was still popular and i've never particularly been a fan of footballers being put on pedestals and treated like they can never possibly do any wrong. That sort of hero worship that leaves no room for criticism or flaws has never been something i particularly enjoyed (like i do love Sergio, but i know he has flaws and that's a bit part why i actually love him so much), but anyway and here's the thing that's probably closest to the truth, i might just not like it when Sergio isn't the main character.

The older i get (and Sergio in turn), the more i realize how little i care about anything but him ... and idk if that actually answers your question, but the short answer is, i don't like them as a ship and i can't explain it in a rational way.

Also on a sidenote, i am actually kind of jealous of the people who do ship them, because somehow i only ever seem to pick the ships that provide barely any content at all, so it must have been nice to get all those cute moments of them together.

#i'm not sure this makes any kind of sense #but i've been trying to come up with an answer to this ask since yesterday #and this is the best i could come up with

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rollflasher · 1 year

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4, 6, 22 :P

As usual you want to unleash the flames of disaster my friend :P

4- Sonegg because if you came thirsty for blood then I shall deliver :P

In all seriousness, not sure how popular they are but 2 examples pop in my mind.

The first is Dante x Trish from DMC because while I don't hate it, the later having his mother's face makes the whole thing very uncomfortable.

The second one is Travis x Sylvia from No More Heroes and I hate that one with a passion because of the second game's ending.

6- I think the closest thing would be fandom making me enjoy a ship I was indifferent towards...and that would be Sonknux.

At first I didn't care about it but you came along and the rest is history :P

22- Does Scourge count? :P

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arkangelee · 2 years

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“have a special someone in your mind?”

characters — midoriya izuku ; bakugou katsuki ; todoroki shoto :: pro hero au!

pairings — ^ x gn!reader

premise — they’re on live television, and all of a sudden the host asks, “as you know, it’s nearing valentine’s day! have a special someone in your mind who you’d like to ask to be your valentine?”

genre — fluff

warnings — none

a/n — because i’m super single here have some of them <3

i. midoriya izuku

man gets super blushy

there’s a very, very prominent red hue spreading across the apples of his cheeks, and it takes a few seconds for him to compute the question.

he’s aware of it, of course.

if he says no, nobody would believe him—so he settles with a rushed out “yesno.”

the host and audience laughs at those very obviously stringed together words, and they go, “yesno? pro-hero deku, that sounds like a yes to me!”

the green-haired hero shrinks, chuckling awkwardly.

“perhaps there is…”

the audience echoes a very interested-sounding ‘ooh’, making him flush redder than he already has.

so then the host continues—“what are your plans for this special someone, hm?”

he whisper-yelled at the host, although it was futile since the rest of the audience could hear him as well. “nonono they’re gonna see this—“ he lets out a strangled groan.

“mm,” he starts, “maybe chocolate, flowers…”

oh he was now the epitome of turning red—izuku knows memes of flustered pro-hero deku will be circling around the internet for the next few days.

he waves his hand dismissively, “anywho, next question?” he smiles sweetly, despite the red still showing on his face.

yeah, that interview is now one of the most popular ones out there of the hero.

ii. bakugou katsuki

“no.”

it’s quick, decisive, and flat-toned.

“no? sounds like you’re in denial.” the host laughs along with the audience.

“no.” the blonde hero sticks with the word, a passive expression painted on his face.

the host cackles again, waving at one of the crew members behind the camera. “someone- someone please get a mirror.”

the crew member did so, handing a rectangular mirror to the host, the latter passing it over to the hero.

bakugou glances at the mirror, widens his eyes, and hurriedly flipped it face-down onto the seat next to him.

“the blush on your cheeks says otherwise, dynamight,” the host chuckles.

regaining his composure, he props his chin on his hand, his elbow resting on the armrest of his chair.

his face was halfway covered by his palm, and he watches as the host lose their shit.

“sorry, what were we talking about?” he asks calmly, politeness dripping out of his tone.

“mm, is there a special someone in your mind for valentine’s day, dynamight?”

yeah, the blush is making a sequel, returning quickly to his face.

he grumbles, “no.”

the host gives up and moves on, barreling him with questions and questions.

bakugou may have drunk-tweeted an honest answer to the question he heavily denied in the interview prior to it.

it was a yes slipped between a plethora of random emojis.

he resigns to his fate, later in the morning tweeting out a ‘yes, and?’

iii. todoroki shoto

“i do.”

he says it so calmly, indifferent and blissfully ignorant as to what kind of reaction he’d get from it.

he watches the host gape and blink for a moment, and he cocks his head to the side, raising an eyebrow.

“what?”

“…so you do have someone in mind?”

“yes, i do.”

“oh.”

“yes.”

he’s now all the television hosts’ favorite hero to interview, because he’s unintentionally funny and also very bluntly honest.

lots and lots of rumors are circulating around the internet as to who it could be.

i swear to all things heavenly that he’ll get tired of all the people rumored to be his quote unquote special someone, so he’ll just text you.

he goes ‘can i tweet that you’re the special someone?’

heart? beating faster. you? falling deeper. hotel? traveloka. /j

if you agree, he’ll do it.

the reactions he gets are hilarious.

they’re mostly consisted of the surprised pikachu face meme—shoto goes to contact mina and asks her what kind of creature is the pokemon.

in conclusion : fans love todoroki shouto and reporters are having a field day.

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chasingpj · 3 years

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HONEYYYYY I JUST READ THE MOST DISGUSTING (IN AN ABSOLUTELY ADORABLE WAY) PERCABETH COLLEGE AU ONE-SHOT and now I'm JEALOUS and in desperate need for just some short headcanons of going to new rome with Percy 😭 pretty pls?

LMFAO OH NO SJFJDJD BYE CAUSE THIS IS SO ME. but don't worry, I got you, babe, <333

𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬

paring: percy jackson x gn reader

warning: drinking, partying

category: headcanons, college au

a/n: i was gonna answer this when i got it last night but i went a little overboard 😭 i hope you like it!

first off, the road trip you guys took to get there was so chaotic

a part of you isn't sure how you, Percy, and Grover made it to California alive

the number of times where you've swerved off a lane while singing your favorite songs with Percy was too many

this usually made him paranoid, and it's the reason why he insisted on driving most of the way (you definitely didn't mind that)

you guys stopped at every state sign you came across and took a cute group picture

you and Percy had mapped out all the tourist stuff and the good places to eat in each state, so you guys stopped a lot

there were lots of sleepy nights at hotel rooms where you guys crashed the moment you guys got comfortable in each other's arms

the road trip was so memorable, and it set the tone for the next four years of your lives 🥺

those polaroids you took with Percy and Grover would be on the walls of your apartment for so long

for the first few months in new rome, you and Percy were just in a honeymoon bubble

you guys went out every weekend to restaurants and spent mornings studying in the cafes and libraries

living with Percy was just how you imagined it, and even better, you didn't even mind that he is a little messy 😭

you guys found out in your first year that morning classes were not the best choice because Percy was way too good at convincing you to skip your lectures to cuddle with him

it's the reason why most of your classes are in the afternoon because the two of you love to sleep in and get breakfast together before starting your days

but yeah, the first few months was a lot of exploring places and the things to do and establishing newfound independence and routine together <3

Percy, I know, is an introvert, but he's popular regardless because, you know, being a hero and all

I'd like to think that Percy is elected, to his dismay, as the official greek representative now that there will be more greeks attending New Rome and stuff

you find it hilarious cause 1) he wears a toga and 2) he knows all the tea of the council and will spill everything to you like teenage girls in a locker room 3) he complains about it all the time 😭

because he has a title and is popular, he gets invited to parties a lot, and every other weekend, you guys will stop by

one of your favorite memories is Percy accidentally drinking the jungle juice, thinking it's regular juice, and getting plastered 😭

I'd like to think Percy is indifferent about drinking like personally, he's not interested, but he wouldn't judge you for it

but yeah, Percy gets plastered, and you had to get him back home

his arm was wrapped around your shoulders, and the entire time he's just slurring things like, "you're so beautiful. why are you so beautiful?" "I love you. do you love me?" "you're like the best thing that's ever happened to me."

there's no way Percy isn't an affectionate drunk! he'd ask for a lot of kisses, will get offended if you deny one kiss

even if you've given him 10 kisses right before your rejection

the entire time you couldn't stop laughing cause you'd never seen him like this

it was a sticky summer night, and he's heavy, so your face was a little shiny from sweat

he proceeded to call you "his little glazed donut" 😭😭and tell you how cute you looked

you were laughing too hard to even be offended

the following day you had to nurse him through his hangover, but the best part was showing him the videos of him and hearing his groans of embarrassment

he got his chance to make fun of you though

you have a very faint memory of Pollux teaching you how to shotgun a beer

and then you swore you blacked out

Percy literally had to carry you on his back to get home

you were like a big giggly baby; he had to change your clothes and wipe off your makeup for you

Percy was so amused as your hands were a little too grabby that night

it took a while for you to settle down, but when you did, you cuddled into his side and told him "i love you" for the 100th time before you were out like a light

Annabeth and Grover are literally at your place all the time

you and Percy have woken up to them making breakfast in the kitchen or sitting on your couch and eating all the snacks in the house

they barge into your apartment so often that Percy lowkey regrets giving them the spare keys LMFAO

it's not just Annabeth and Grover either

Percy's place is where all your friends and his friends go to hang out, so you and Percy have had a lot of practice being the hosts of small get-togethers

you, Annabeth, and Piper would have sleepovers sometimes and kick Percy out, LMFAO

he had to sleep in Grover's dorm on those nights because you three demanded that there were no s/o's allowed 😤

every December, you guys throw a secret Santa party for you and your friends

you have the cutest picture of you, Percy, and your friends all squished up on your couch on new years eve, and all of you guys wore silly hats and glasses

Leo was laid across everyone's lap with big glasses, pointing a finger gun at the camera. The Stoll brothers were standing behind the couch. Connor puts two fingers behind Annabeth's head, giving her bunny ears, while Travis does the same to Piper, who's still on her right. On Annabeth's left are Rachel and Nico. Nico's face is all scrunched as Rachel pinches his cheeks; the boy has a look on his face as if he's trying to hide his smile. Hazel and Frank are sitting on the floor side by side, smiling into the camera. you and Percy are huddled in the corner, you on his lap as you guys squish your cheeks together with happy smiles while Grover is standing behind you guys, halfway biting into a can of soda

it's your favorite picture of all time, and it's always in a frame on display

sometimes Percy gets homesick, so, often for the holidays and the summers, you two head out to new york to see his family for a little

sometimes Estelle heads back with you guys to Cali to spend a couple weeks with her big brother

that's always fun because everyone adores Estelle, and you guys are always going out and making sure she has fun

it's always so cute when they part, Percy promising and comforting a whining Estelle that she can come back next summer or in the spring

for graduation, you guys make matching caps 🥺

graduation was really sentimental for you guys because it was another chapter in your lives that was coming to end

you and Percy have been through so much together, and everything from stressing about finals together to the crazy nights of adventure was so much fun

it felt like for the first time, it sunk in how long you've been together and how sure it was that you'd be in each other's futures :(((

and the two of you were so looking forward to the rest of your lives together, especially since Percy proposed to you at your graduation party <333

#xeni's ask box #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #percy jackson oneshot #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson fic

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valwentinefics · 3 years

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Hello!! Could I request a Zemo x reader fic where he overhears the reader making a joke with Sam and Bucky, “I wonder if any rich people out there would want an Avenger trophy wife”? Thanks <3

A/N: Thank you for the request! I’ll let you guys decide if he’s manipulating the reader or if he’s just ooc. I decided to make the reader very poor and selfless so it would fit better and kept her power ambiguous.

Trophy Wife - Helmut Zemo x F!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, describing poor living conditions

Word count: 1169

Y/n was poor. She rejected all the money and fame she could have gotten from being Avenger, not wanting to profit off of a job that had previously ruined a country, even if that happened before she had joined. Instead, Y/n considered herself nothing more than a concerned citizen taking action to help, even if that meant she had to eat cup noodles for every meal in a water damaged studio apartment.

Now she sat on Zemo’s couch, a cup of tea nestled in her hands as she looked around the home. It was nice, not overly showy but was visibly upper class. Y/n couldn’t believe this was how she was living now, pulled around by a rich guy. Truthfully, she could get used to the perks that came with being around the Baron.

“I still can’t believe I can say I’ve been in a private jet.” Y/n said out loud, getting the attention of Bucky and Sam. “I mean just a few days ago I was poor as fuck, living off of dollar store cup noodles and sunny d. I was able to eat a steak yesterday!” She laughed, only earning a concerned look from the three men at her living arrangements, Zemo now no longer staring into his cup and instead at Y/n inquisitively, his head tilted slightly.

“Damn Y/n, you lived like that?” Asked Sam, “Like, you’re not exaggerating?”

Y/n laughed. “God, I wish I was. But no, I actually lived like that. I should invite you guys around to my apartment sometime, you can meet the rats that live in my walls.” Her words caused Bucky’s never ending stare to morph into serious concern and Sam’s jaw to drop. Zemo showed indifference, grabbing her empty cup she had placed down and going to the kitchen to wash it. “That’s a joke, it’s actually mice.”

“How do you live like that?” Asked Bucky, “If you need a place to stay, I don’t use my bedroom much.”

“It’s hard to hold another job when you’re an Avenger and it just feels wrong to get money from it. Unlike you two I became an Avenger right out of highschool, I didn’t have savings like Sam and I wasn’t in anyone’s will like you Bucky. All my money comes from the occasional government mission that I allow to pay me. But don’t worry about me, I'm an Avenger, I’ll make do. I don’t need any help” She smiled at the two.

“Alright, but you need anything you call me. God, I can’t believe you live like that. Do I need a tetanus shot just because I’ve been standing close to you?” Joked Sam, easing the tense concern that filled the air.

Y/n giggled. “No don’t worry, I’m safe. But being with Zemo has made me start thinking,” She paused for a moment, wondering if she should really say this. “I wonder if any rich people out there would like an Avenger trophy wife?” Sam let out a laugh, about to say something when an unexpected voice interrupted.

“I would.” Spoke Zemo from his place in the kitchen, popping a turkish delight into his mouth.

All heads turned to the Sovokian Baron, earning a casual shrug from him. Y/n felt her cheeks turn red as she processed his words. Bucky’s fist clenching as he shot a glare to Zemo. Sam looked between the two, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

“No, no, no this is not what’s going to happen. I need some air, I’m going for a walk.” He headed to the door, followed by an awkwardly silent Bucky. “You two, don’t do anything weird while we’re gone.” Sam tossed on his jacket, muttering about the situation under his breath as he headed out with Bucky in tow.

The room became consumed by silence soon after, the only sound being made was from the wrapping on Zemo’s turkish delights as he tossed another one into his mouth. Y/n couldn’t keep his eyes off him, thinking of his words. She hadn’t really realized how attractive he was before now. Not a hair out of place, his long jacket slung over his shoulders, the air of casual confidence he gave off. She wasn’t sure why she liked him, the man that caused a rift within the Avengers, who had caused so much pain to those she cared about. She almost felt guilty for it. Almost.

“I meant what I said.” The sokovian accent filled the room after a few moments, Y/n’s eyes snapping to his instead of looking at his body. “About an Avenger trophy wife.”

“And why would you mean that? I thought you hated us?” Y/n asked, confused.

Zemo walked over, his steps slow and back straight as he approached, looking like the royalty he was. “Because you’re not like them, you’re not a supremacist. You live in squalor because you believe it’s the right thing to do. You don’t show your power to the world and become a glorified image, you try to remain human. You’re humble, altruistic.” He paused right in front of Y/n. She turned her head away from him, looking out the window, his words making her cheeks painted red.

“You flatter me Zemo.” She spoke nervously, not used to all the praise. She wasn’t a popular avenger so not many people paid attention to her efforts, and she didn’t care if they did or didn’t but it felt nice to receive a compliment. In a way, Zemo’s praise meant more to her in her eyes than anyone else's. He was against the whole group and wasn’t scared to make that known, yet here he was complimenting her.

“It’s the truth.” His hand cupped her cheek and guided Y/n’s face to look at his. “You don’t deserve to live like that when you’re the only good one in the damn system. If the others were like you, maybe my country would still be around.” His eyes held sadness within them for a moment as he almost stared through her before going back to how he was before. “I know I can’t marry you now, however just think of at least being my sugar baby, let me reward you for being the only hero with a good moral compass.”

Y/n stared into his dark eyes for a few moments, mulling over the situation. Was it right to accept? No. But she hadn’t felt true appreciation for her actions and sacrifices before, nor such genuine praise, that she decided for once and only once it was time to be selfish. She reached into her pocket and ripped a page out of her notebook, scribbling her number onto the sheet and handing it to Zemo.

“I accept.”

#helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo #baron zemo #baron zemo x reader #zemo x reader #zemo

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ophiuchus-interactive · 3 years

Text

Originality, Criticism, and Entitlement

After joining the IF community, I've come to see (and experience) the accusation that there are IF writers who steal, copy, or even plagiarize another author's work. I'm going to explain why throwing such accusations around is harmful not only to the accused, but the community as a whole.

This is also an explanation as to why they're incredibly stupid criticisms, and unless there is actual, direct evidence that the work is being copied or stolen, it is not, as such "critics" want to call it, "ripping off" anybody.

(Long read)

Star Wars (1977) is considered by many to be the world's first real blockbuster, with such sensation and hype that even over thirty years since its original release date, it reminds a key figure in our pop culture and media today. In every form or fashion, Star Wars was groundbreaking in terms of cinematic storytelling and movie-going experience.

But Star Wars is nothing new.

George Lucas, the creator, has discussed many times over the years just how precisely the world of Star Wars came to be, and its origins go back much, much farther than you think.

George Lucas claimed that the idea of Star Wars was inspired by Flash Gordon serials, a comic book series that was turned into a TV show in the 1930s. The famous title crawl that appears at the beginning of every Star Wars movie?

Look familiar?

It is also a pretty well known fact that the Galactic Empire and Rebels, along with the battle scenes within the movies, also take heavy inspiration from WWII. Stormtroopers are German Gestapo, the X-Wings and TIE Fighters are inspired by WWII aerial combat: https://youtu.be/msb8OdvBBjU

There is a clear right and wrong that is written into the Star Wars universe, and that most assuredly comes from the material and real world events that George Lucas was inspired by; serial comics and shows of the 30s, 40s, and 50s, leaned heavily into black and white morality. This is why superheroes from that era like Superman or Batman were originally written as static characters. "Superman is invincible, that's not as interesting as the X-Men struggling with their place in society!" Well, yeah, that's because Superman was meant to be nothing more than a comic book character that allows children to act out their power fantasy- "you can't make me go to bed, mom! Superman doesn't go to bed!" etc. etc.

But Star Wars has inspiration that goes back even further than the 1930s. It goes back to ancient Mesopotamia.

The Epic of Gilgamesh is the world's oldest and most notable form of literature that we know of. It is an epic that describes the heroic journey of one Gilgamesh, told in five parts. This is the earliest known example of what is known as "The Hero's Journey" in literature.

If you have any knowledge of the first movie of Star Wars, you're well aware of the story beats that you can read out in this diagram, as well be able to distinguish the similarities it has with The Epic of Gilgamesh.

Does this mean that Star Wars ripped off The Epic of Gilgamesh?

No. It doesn't. Because even though the story shares similar story beats, and features a black-and-white morality, a sci-fi space opera is a far cry from ancient Mesopotamian gods battling with each other. George Lucas didn't read the epic in school and decide "ah ha! I know how I'm going to make money!"

He was inspired, and he took that inspiration and created a multi-billion dollar franchise that millions love across the globe. He wrote that story and directed that movie, he put in the blood, sweat (lots of sweat- they filmed in Tunisia) and tears to make something WHOLLY NEW, and yet in some ways...similar.

Humans are very complex creatures, and our brain loves nothing more than finding patterns in things. Why is there such a thing as the Rule of Three in literature, a rule that dictates the satisfaction the reader gets when a story has a plot that occurs in three parts? Why is there traditionally only three acts? It is, simply put, satisfying. This traditional three-part structure often times creates stories that may look or feel similar simply because of how it is structured. This is not copying. This is a literature technique that humans have been using since the beginning of language itself.

And this is why I have such a problem with the people suggesting that authors are "copying" popular works- no one solely invented story beats, no one invented the supernatural fiction, no one, singular person, solely created the concepts that we are using today. No one. Not a single thing written is wholly original.

Originality is overrated. We are products of our environment, our culture, our media we consume- if an IF writer has a story with vampires and other supernatural creatures, and the MC is a detective attempting to solve crimes, was that invented by the very popular Wayhaven Chronicles by Mishka Jenkins? No. Vampires in media are nothing new, detectives in media are nothing new, and if they so happen to exist in other stories, what of it? Did Mishka invent vampires? No. They're a cultural phenomenon that has existed in multiple civilizations at once. Did she invent detectives? Obviously not.

Mishka was inspired and so were countless of other IF writers to write a story that involved the supernatural. These IF writers may have similar story beats, they may have similar themes, but that does not make it copying.

You know what makes Star Wars or The Wayhaven Chronicles or any other form of entertaining media great? Innovation.

It is how the authors tell the story, and why it is being written that creates such vast differences in genres. Star Wars isn't The Epic of Gilgamesh because its just "in space", it is the magnificent, innovative storytelling behind Star Wars that makes it so unique in our minds. The cinematography, the storytelling, the dialogue, the acting- all of that hard work into making something worthwhile and good is what makes it so unique when comparing it to other media that feature the literary use of "The Hero's Journey".

We all have something to bring to the table, to tell our stories that have a piece of us inside them. They are influenced by our laughter, our tears, our horror, our love, our rage or terrible indifference. They are influenced by our passions, our delusions, and they are written because we wish it to be so.

Are all impressionists copying Monet because he popularized impressionism? Are all artists who paint in similar styles copying off of the one who created the style in the first place? No. They're not.

To accuse IF authors, particularly the INNOCENT ones of copying others is an unbelievably insulting and ignorant statement that disregards the author's creativity and free will to write whatever the hell they want. If all you have to see out of a story is the basic, bare bones elements to it, then allow me to speak for all IF authors out there and say:

You're missing the fucking point!

We've all put our hard work into not only LEARNING a coding language (which, surprise, not ALL of us know and have to spend HOURS figuring out) but we've learned a coding language to create a game for other people to enjoy, and we'll be damn fucking lucky if we're able to get any money off of our work that we have put in it.

This criticism becomes a form of entitlement real fast, as if a reader has any say as to the pace or way an IF story (or any art for that matter) is written.

Most of us are doing this because we love the idea of putting our work out there as an IF fiction for fun. Some of us have to work jobs, some of us have complicated lives that demand constant attention, some of us wish to do this as a living, but all of us?

All of us deserve the courtesy of being a creator that is sharing their work with the world.

The next time you decide to accuse an IF writer of copying another person, ask yourself if it's legitimate plagiarism or you're just someone who doesn't have the capacity to consider that literary themes, tropes, cliches, and genres, are not the same thing as "copying".

#renny rants #if fiction

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burnedbyshoto · 3 years

Text

I wanted to make myself like the ravine

— There are plenty of things that Hawks knows about, but there are few he knows none about. A journey of how Hawks navigates the meaning of the word love.

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pairing: hawks (takami keigo) x fem!reader

warnings: recent manga spoilers, future!au, alcohol consumption, fem!reader

word count: 6,819

a/n: this is for the pocuties valentines day collab! rhank you for letting me join! inspired by the poem to the title of this fic!

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

A G A P E

—

Hawks is one of the fastest men in the world.

It’s not a brag; it’s the truth.

A cold, hard, damning truth.

Hawks is a Pro Hero with the power, skill, and finesse required to take the fall for the entire country. He is someone who is loved by all, who thrives off of the appreciation and the cheers, but he knows — he understands — he’s expendable. He’s a tool—an object seconds from being put to rest.

There are many things that Hawks knows; he’s been training to be a hero since he was in his very childhood. Blindfolded, tested and conditioned to be the ideal hero, the perfect pawn.

Hawks is no idiot, and he will never deny that often times that he isn’t sure what he is feeling.

Emotions are weird for him. Feelings are oversimplified in everything he was taught, yet disgustingly really and oddly interfering the second he had set foot into the spotlight. He was used to the cold, the people who would view him as a specimen, experiment 20493, codenamed: Fierce Winged Hawks. The only emotions he understood was apathy, seriousness, anger, resentment, bitterness, disappointment, and relief. When finally, finally, the Hero Commission broke his wings, his spine, and his mind, the small boy so eager to be a Hero ultimately nothing but a soldier, ready to follow commands to the T.

Hawks has only heard of love from the blurry, unclear memories of his childhood. His mother muttering how she had no love for him to be taking care of him as he did, or his father saying he could never love him. Love was foreign, strange, alien to him. Even when he was eighteen and finally given a bit of freedom from the chains the Hero Commission bound him in was expressed out of love. But he was put into the cage that granted him the ability to spread his stiff wings; love made no sense.

He saw lovers making out in alleyways, and he furrowed his eyebrows, wondering just why anyone would want to kiss in the smelly, dark, virus-infected areas. He saw his colleagues come in looking dazed, refreshed, reborn, yelling loudly, and singing poetry about their love for some other person they met just yesterday. He also couldn’t ignore the days, weeks, months later when they would rearrive with red-rimmed eyes, swollen eyes, and a tremor to their voice.

Love seemed… awful to Hawks.

Love was a deception of brain chemicals. Nothing more than your mind bending, flipping, and twisting to make something that made absolutely no sense make sense.

Hawks had expressed that one day to a sidekick of his, his barriers and walls crumbling away because he had been on a stakeout for five days straight now. The world that could never keep up with him was numbing his brain.

“Well, that’s romantic and flirtatious love for ya,” his sidekick explained with a halfhearted shrug. It seemed that he both agreed and disagreed with what Hawks had to say. “They’re amazing loves, don’t get it wrong, and they definitely don’t make sense, but they’re loves not meant to last.”

Hawks blinked.

“What?”

His sidekick chuckled, hands rubbing at his eyes as he peered out the window again, his sullen eyes looking even more tired.

“Have you never learned the different types of love before, Hawks?” the sidekick teased as much as he was curious. “I figured a pro as popular and smart as you are would know the different types of love.”

Hawks feathers fluttered in his inability to keep his lack of knowledge to himself.

“I don’t.”

“Wow, finally something Hawks isn’t aware of!” the sidekick laughed, and his hand opened his phone, fingers hitting the screen before shoving the device into Hawks’ chest. “I’m sure you’ll find that you can understand at least one love.”

Hawks grabbed the phone, head cocking to the side in his curiosity as he scrolled down through the phone.

There were eight different types.

Eight different ones that he could have experienced within his then twenty-one years, and he found himself unable to look away from one.

Agape: universal, selfless love

“Hawks, they’re moving!” the sidekick squawked, and Hawks handed over the phone, and with nothing on his mind, burst out the window, ready to take down this organization.

Hawks had to admit that later that night, when he was finally able to sleep in his own bed, he felt selfless love. It was for the people of Japan. The many citizens who needed his help and the heroes of the country who rose to the demands of the job. Maybe it wasn’t the type of love depicted in anything he’s ever read or watched before, but that was okay. It was love.

The love he has for the citizens is enough to keep his head afloat.

This is the only love he needs in his life right now, the only love that matters.

But he’s no longer twenty-one, he’s twenty-five, and the wings on his back that feel practically invisible to him, are hurting. His back is in pain, his quirk almost gone, save for the smallest, insignificant feathers perching from the stumps of what was his beginnings of a wingspan. It still burns, phantom singes and phantom heat whenever he thinks about his nearly gone, never to be grown again, wings.

“Well, Hawks, you already know that this is going to happen,” comes the cold voice of one of the board members of the Hero Commission. A man who had practically raised (see managed) him.

Today was the end of Hawks life, more or less.

“AFO, Shigaraki Tomura, and the well-known former members of the League of Villains were finally stopped,” Hawks speaks with a nod. He knows, even though he could not be a soldier, he had been around to see the young UA students, Endeavors Interns, bring them to justice.

The biggest names of evil were dead, and Hawks already knew he was over.

To be fair, he was glad it was over.

But still, it hurt to hear the indifference in his voice, the apathy, the tedium.

“Operation: Fierce Wings - Hawks is officially over.”

“I could’ve figured that one out pretty easily,” Hawks jests, unable to show the way his heart twisted and withered under the knowledge that he was no longer a hero. His love, his agape, for the people were still there. Still, just as he recognized in his colleagues who were experiencing the different forms of love, it didn’t matter how much love you held for someone, something, for the innocent, helpless people…

Life takes, it destroys, and love doesn’t seem to have a chance.

“Thank you for your twenty years of service. I hope you find the freedom you had been looking for.”

P H I L A U T I A

It’s been a week.

Seven days, twenty-one hours, sixteen minutes, and thirty-four seconds since Hawks was fired (see Honorably Discharged) as a Pro Hero.

Hawks has always felt that the world moved oh so slowly behind him. It had been his wish that heroes be able to relax, laze around because society had evolved enough that criminals knew better, were treated better, and could integrate into a truly peaceful society.

It had been his dream.

But right now, he was bored.

B o r e d.

“Fuck, I don’t care,” Hawks grumbled, face smooshing into a pillow as he watched the Netflix Series Bridgerton drone on the screen. “Dump his ass.”

His apartment, it was safe to say, was a mess. There were cups, bowls, plates, and chopsticks everywhere. His hair was ruffled, stringy, held back by a hair clip he had stolen from Miruko. His beard was nearly fully grown in, and there were bags under his eyes despite the fact he was sleeping for more hours of the day than staying awake. He was sore, tired, bored.

So bored.

He didn’t think being bored was going to suck this much, going to hurt him like this.

Fuck.

“Open the damn door, bird boy!” came a sharp scream and powerful kick from the front door.

Hawks glared at the door, the tiniest of feathers he had been able to regrow, trying to pathetically open the lock on the door. A sheen layer of sweat pushed against his forehead, and Hawks grunted, trying to lift the heavy lock.

BAM.

The door swung open, forcefully kicked open by none other than Pro Hero Miruko.

“Yo!” Miruko waved, lips pulled in a fierce grin as she entered through the broken doorway with nothing but a bag of unknown items. “I figured you were here!”

“...you broke my door,” Hawks pointed out, eyes narrowed as dust and destruction danced within the air.

“You took too long,” Miruko breezed, slamming her plastic bag on the kitchen island. “It’s a fucking rats nest in here, birdbrain; I thought you were somewhat organized?”

Hawks groaned loudly, sinking further into his couch as Miruko began reorganizing his kitchen area — dumping the dirty dishes into the sink and throwing things away in fast, practiced skill. “Life is too boring, and I’m too bored to do anything about all of the mess,” Hawks exaggerates partially, hand twisting and dancing as he speaks. “Thanks for cleaning up the mess.”

“I’m not cleaning up your damn mess, birdbrain,” Miruko barks out a laugh, her hands slamming against the now, somehow, clean surface. “I’m just making my life easier!”

Hawks looked over the top of the couch with a semi impressed, semi uncaring look and shrugged.

“You seem to have a great handle over those robot limbs now,” he points out.

Sure enough, Miruko had two bionic limbs, limbs that she had finally managed to work into a fighting career. After spending two years on the sideline, relearning how to walk and then fight, she was back on the field.

She was a hero again, despite it all, unlike him.

“Damn right, I’m amazing!” Miruko preened, chest puffed, and bunny tail wagging excitedly. “But anyway, I figured your dumbass would be depressed, so I brought you some shit.”

Hawks watched with a curious gaze as Miruko quickly hopped once from where she was in the kitchen to a place on his couch, landing on Hawks' legs unintentionally.

“OW!”

“Look at what Rumi brought you,” Miruko laughed, slapping Hawks on the back as he cradled his legs. “And yes, I just referred to myself in the third person, so shush.”

Hawks grumbled, lips in a half pout, half frown.

Taking the opaque bag from Miruko, Hawks pulled out the many items in the bag.

Carrots, a KFC gift card, Korean skincare products, a movie about Miruko’s recovery process, and a 1001 Things to Do (A Book on Finding Self Love).

Hawks stares at the book.

“The perfect items for a self-care, self-love spa day,” Miruko nods, once again slapping Hawks on the back. “Some old sidekick of yours told me that you don’t know what love is, so I figured that I would help teach you the most important one! Self-love! Truly the hardest one to master, in my opinion, but damn if it isn’t a good one.”

Hawks feels transfixed almost, unable to look away from the book as Miruko slaps him on the back yet again as she moves to leave. He hears her yelling about forwarding the bill to fix his door to her, her agency would pay for the damage, and how she’s off to train with some bunny hopping boy from UA.

Opening the book, Hawks looked at the number one thing to do on the book and sighed.

#1: Look in a mirror and name five things you LOVE about yourself.

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

Hawks is on number thirteen (Stand at a bridge and scream into the void about the things you love at dusk) when he realizes that maybe… he doesn’t love himself.

It is without saying that he loves people; agape, after all, is the only love type that made sense to him, but philautia, self-love, was way lost on him. Objectives 2 - 12 on the book were entertaining to do! They had Hawks going outside of his house much more than his week trapped indoors, and for the first time since the day his wings had been burnt off, his house was spotless.

But it was clear to Hawks that he didn’t feel love for himself.

Whenever he tried to convince himself that he should love himself, that there were terrific qualities in himself, he thought back to the dirty, burnt room.

“I still gotta protect their happiness!” the phantom in his mind screamed, the broken sob collected in his throat.

Hawks shivered, unable to let himself recognize the pain and hurt in the phantom's eyes, or the way that he now wished he had never done that… why had he done that?

What a mess…

The small chirping of Hawks phone interrupts his morose thoughts. He looks at the screen, eyebrows raising in slight mirth and caution as none other than his former intern was currently calling him.

“Tsukuyomi-kun!” Hawks laughs into the receiver, the weight of his past for a moment forgotten. “How are ya?!”

“Hello, Hawks-sensei,” Tokoyami’s calm tone fills Hawks' ears. “I was calling because I have a request to make.”

“Name it,” Hawks spoke immediately, slouching against the cold bars of the bridge, eyes closing as he tried to relax. “You need a letter of rec or something?”

“Nothing of the sort, actually,” Tokoyami says. “We third-year students are graduating in a few days; I was inquiring if you would attend on my behalf.”

“Wow, Tsukuyomi-kun, no need to be so formal with me!” Hawks laughed delightedly, his hands carting through his feather-like hair, “I’d love to come and watch you guys graduate! Is it true that the finger-smashing boy is the valedictorian?”

“That would be false, Midoriya-kun has nothing on Yaoyorozu-san.”

“What a bummer, you’d think he’d be first after how he helped win the war for us, huh?”

“You’ll find that Yaoyorozu-san is highly gifted and undeterred by most things,” Tokoyami sighed. For a moment, Hawks chuckled at the melancholy tone to his old intern's voice. It sounded as if he had been striving with great difficulty to reach the highest marks as well.

Hawks began speaking to his rather odd ex-intern with great curiosity with the blanket of the night surrounding him. His defenses and thoughts whittling away the more they spoke, the later it got in the morning.

“Ne, Tokoyami-kun, I have a question?”

“Concerning what?”

Hawks pauses, his brows furrowing as he looks up into the still dark sky, “Do you know how to love yourself?”

Silence.

Had it been anyone else, Hawks would have panicked at the lack of noise. Still, his already less than chatty intern typically took to not speaking much to begin with.

“Self-love is difficult,” Tokoyami finally spoke, his words slow, carefully chosen. “We humans are flawed; we all have demons. Most of the time, we only recognize and see our demons, oftentimes forgetting that being human also means being weak and at times immoral. Loving oneself is a hard task because we know ourselves better than any other. It’s a work in progress for everyone to love oneself, it's a type of love by the Ancient Greeks, but it’s not always everpresent. One must accept all flaws to love oneself, and remember that flaws don’t make you less, even if you believe otherwise.”

“...wow, I asked for a sentence answer, and you gave me a speech. Who would’ve known you were so in check with your emotions, Tokoyami!”

“You knew, I’ve already revealed this side of me before. You laughed last time too.”

Hawks finds himself home thirty minutes later, and he stares up at the ceiling, fingers drumming against his chest.

Self-love… it seems like an ever-evolving type of love, but it’s there. He knows that even if he has regrets and hardships and things he hates about himself, deep down, self-love exists and that it will exist.

Patience.

Even the fastest man in the world could demonstrate patience.

L U D U S

“What can I get for ya?”

“I have no idea honestly, do you have any recommendations?”

Hawks could say with complete honesty that he felt entirely out of place.

He was at a local bar. The bar was semi-busy today. Most young adults dressed in an arrangement of clothes, each on a different level of soberness as they cheered to this and that.

Why was he at a bar even though he was slightly uncomfortable? Well, you can blame #73 in the book for that.

(#73: Enter the first bar you find, order a drink, and flirt!)

“What type of liquor do you like? Hard or soft?”

Hawks blinked; he didn’t know.

“Hard?”

The bartender looked a bit unsure of him for a bit before nodding and turning his back to him.

Did hard liquor mean he was going to get an iced drink? He’s never consumed alcohol before.

“Here you go!” the bartender sang, slamming two shot glasses before him. “Two shots of Bacardi.”

“Oh, thank you?” Hawks tilted his head as a small cup of OJ was placed in front of him (“That’s your chaser,” the bartender had laughed). Bringing the small glass shot glass up, Hawks looked around at the throngs of people surrounding the bar and looked at you. You were cheering loudly as you raised your own shot glass in the air with a whoop and, in a fast, fluid motion, brought the shot glass to your mouth and took the liquid down easily. Hawks was definitely unimpressed now; that looked entirely too easy. “Here we go, cheers to me.”

Imitating your own actions, Hawks shot back the liquid in his shot glass, and immediately his entire body tensed.

EW.

NO.

EW.

OH GOD, NO!

Spitting out the sour, bitter, disgusting — dear god, how do you even describe this taste?! — liquid, Hawks, chugged the OJ, his lungs and throat and tongue burning from the shot.

“That was disgusting!” Hawks spat to absolutely no one, his hands covering his mouth as he stared at the other awaiting shot of ‘Bacardi.’ “Why would anyone drink that?!”

“Only madmen drink Bacardi while sober,” a voice joined in on Hawks' one-sided conversation. “Or bitches who are self-sabotagers. Never trust a hoe who says Bacardi is their favorite drink.”

Hawks turned around to see you, the girl he had regrettably underestimated for taking the shot, smiling at him with a not entirely sober look to your face.

“You look like neither. That and the way you took the shot obviously means that you had no idea what you were drinking.” Hawks continued to stare at you, completely perplexed by your casual conversation, the dress on your body that was twisted a bit, screaming wonders about your level of sobriety. You took to the empty barstool beside him with a grin and a calculating look, “You’re Hawks, right?”

“Yeah, Hawks,” he spoke, his tongue feeling weird in his mouth as he bowed stiffly in his chair. You were beautiful, fuck.

“I’m y/l/n, nice to meet you!” you speak easily, fingers grabbing at his other filled shot glass with a concerned look. “I have a feeling you shouldn’t try to take this other shot.”

“Dying of alcohol definitely isn’t in my vision of ways to go out,” Hawks grins. Pushing through his haze of awkwardness as you shift in the barstool so that you’re now facing him entirely, knees pressed to his thigh. “I’ve never actually drunk before?”

You inhale sharply, your eyes going wide as you break all levels of personal contact that’s acceptable of strangers in Japan and grab his cheeks.

“Alcohol virgin?!” you gasp, the sweet smell of some liquid drafting from your breath. “I’ll teach you everything that I know, don’t worry!”

You let go of his face, neck turning away from him, looking for the bartender to flag him down.

“Don’t you have—?”

“They can wait,” you wave at the bartender before turning back to Hawks with a confident grin on your face. “I have my favorite Pro Hero right beside me; I think they’ll understand.”

“Alright, what is it that I need to know?”

“My full name,” you breeze with a wink. “Y/l/n y/n.”

“A beautiful name.”

“I am a beautiful woman.”

Hawks chuckled good-naturedly, his head nodding in agreement, “I think we were talking about the alcohol, though, not your attraction as a female.”

“All in good time, all in good time,” you laugh, taking to the bartender and ordering two drinks, both of which were entirely foreign to Hawks.

Hawks would not consider himself to be an expert at flirting. He was attractive, a great conversationalist, and did have a type of edge to his words that often seemed playful or a warning, depending on how you looked at it. But it appeared that his natural way of speaking was more than enough to make him flirtatious enough to match the way you spoke to him.

You had introduced him to a single mixed drink, telling him that getting drunk by yourself at a bar typically wasn’t a smart thing, so keep to something with a low alcohol percentage. Just enough to make you loosen up, but not enough that you were incapable of getting home. Hawks liked the way your hand rested on his forearm. How you smiled and laughed at something to show your interest but not at everything to show that you weren’t faking your amusement at what he was saying.

You matched his every word, not backing down from his bluffs. Soon enough, Hawks felt his cheeks warm when he finally looked directly at your smiling face (he wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol or not).

Eventually, though, the night ended, and you shimmied off the bar stool as your friends had come to collect you to leave.

“Can I get your number?” you ask, eyes mostly entirely sober as you handed him your phone. “I know you were the man who was just a bit too fast, but I think I can handle that.”

Hawks snorts, his eyes rolling in his amusement, “That was horrible.”

“I’m drunk, I have an excuse!” you exclaim with a pout that quickly turns into a giddy smile as Hawks enters his number to your phone. “Don’t worry though, once I’m sober, I’ll flirt your eyebrows clean off!”

“That sounds painful!” Hawks yells as you wave goodbye, your arms linked with a line of other girls as you leave the bar with teasing laughter and undecipherable words.

It was with you that Hawks realized that he had come to find a new type of love.

Ludus, the love of flirtation and playfulness.

Damn, who would’ve known.

P H I L I A

Hawks was having a pretty bad day.

It wasn’t anything super terrible happening, all things considered. It was a lovely day out; the sun was warm, the sky so blue, and the birds chirping. Nothing on the news to be concerned about and all his precious people were safe.

But it was still a bad day because instead of being out and about with you, his now borderline best friend/girlfriend, who he was stupidly having a crush on, he was stuck at home.

Hawks was sick.

Deliriously, stuffy nose, goopy eyed, chapped lips, and feverish sick.

You: Are you sure you’re fine????

Hawks: Im perfectly okay. Ill go with you to the park next time sorry

You: Thats not what im concerned about stupid!!!!!

Hawks: Bye have fun!

You: I knoW YOURE SICK ASSHOLE

Hawks chuckled, rereading his messages with you.

Blowing his nose for what felt like the umpteenth time, Hawks resumed the movie on the screen that you had recommended him to watch — Disney’s Chicken Little — because it reminded you of him, or something like that. The TV droned on with the movie, and Hawks found it hard to keep focused as the Sandman danced on his head and whispered in his ear.

He hadn’t noticed he had fallen asleep until a loud banging was heard on his door.

Shuffling towards the door, Hawks opened the still slightly broken door with bleary eyes and a stuffy nose.

In front of him was none other than you.

You… with a basket full of things.

“Hi!” you greeted him, pushing past Hawks easily and walking into his apartment. “You look worse than I thought you would be!”

“That's hurtful,” Hawks pouted, closing the door behind you, sneezing, then following after you. “Why are you here? I thought you w-were — achoo — going to the park?”

“I was, but we were supposed to go together to check off number 184, and I wasn’t about to go alone to complete a list meant for you!” you exclaimed, dumping the overfilled basket on the kitchen counter.

“Mm,” Hawks hummed, his voice dry and cracking as he pulled the blanket closer around him. “What’s this?”

“A get well care basket,” you say in an unmistakable like tone; you glance at him, smiling widely, and gesture dramatically to the basket. “Follow along, if you can.”

“Pfft.”

“So first, I have some sleepytime tea; I swear to the gods and back that this tea will cure you and knock you the fuck out,” you say, pulling out the thing on top of the basket and putting it to the side. “Next, we have some tissues because you obviously need them.”

“Hey!”

Hawks watched through red-rimmed eyes as you carefully and thoroughly explained what and why you had brought him. Fuzzy socks, a blanket, his favorite snacks and drinks, medicine, DVD’s to more movies you told him he had to watch, an embarrassing childhood picture of you that he had been wanting and swore he would never expose least he wants to die, more oils for his diffuser, and a signed Endeavor poster he had been wanting.

Safe to say that after he had been drugged up, eating some soup and drinking some tea on the couch, wrapped up in the blanket you had bought him, laying between your legs, Hawks was feeling much, much better. It had been hours since Hawks had coughed or sneezed, and he was talking with you about how Disney movies were being produced less and getting sort of worse with each one. The movie titan slowly losing its ground.

“Okay, it’s almost eleven pm; I have work tomorrow, you are still sick, let's pack it up!” you eventually say during a moment of comfortable silence.

“I can’t believe you have to work,” Hawks sniffled, standing up off the couch so that you could get up. “Seems like a crime.”

“It’s not so bad! Being a celebrity PR manager is a million times easier than a hero PR manager. At least we can help decide what's seen!” you laugh, helping to clean up his living room of the bags of chips and drinks.

“Sure, sure,” Hawks grins, keeping the trashcan open for you so that you could place the trash in. “Thank you.”

Walking you towards the front door, Hawks comes to the sudden and almost alarming realization that he doesn’t want you to leave. He wants you to stay. He thought this was a friendship, and it was one, a good one at that! For about a month now, he had known that there was a type of love he had for you, one of friendship.

It was called philia.

So why did he want to keep you wrapped up in a hug, to pull you close and press a gentle kiss to your forehead, to your cheek, to your lips?

“—I’ll be back tomorrow to check up on you during my lunch break,” you say, slipping on your shoes as you pull on your jacket. “If you need anything at all, call or text—”

The words on your tongue die immediately when Hawks still slightly chapped lips press against yours. The sick must that was present earlier on the day is no longer there, and you can feel heat and fire bursting from your cells as Hawks pulls away from you.

“I’m sorry,” Hawks breathes out, a small smile on his face, a daze in his eyes that tells you he definitely was not completely sorry. “I couldn’t resist anymore?”

“W-We will talk about that later!” your voice squeaks, your heart hammering in your throat because fucking Hawks kissed you. “If I-I get sick, I’ll rip out your eyebrows!”

“Will you go out with me? On a date?” Hawks continues on, leaning on the doorframe you’ve yet to pass.

“...I hate you, yes,” you warble, hands pressing against your burning face as Hawks grin grows.

“Perfect, I’ll text you,” he allows you to pass through the doorway where you feel both entirely light and giddy yet awkward and mechanical.

“Hawks, I swear, if your stupid kiss got me sick!”

“You’ll rip out my eyebrows,” Hawks laughs, waving a hand. “If you rip out my eyebrows, I demand a kiss for every hair you pluck out.”

He laughs at how he can basically see the heat rising from your ears as you squawk and run away.

Looking at #184 of his book, Hawks smiles as he crosses it out (#184: Ask out your crush!) and sighs. Philia was love between friends, but it was also, if he remembered correctly, one of affection. And it was without saying that he held a deep affection for you.

E R O S

As much as Hawks claimed he knew about the world, he was as clueless as a newborn baby when it came to the topic of love. Reasoning? Well, today marked a year of being together. It had been a year since Hawks had kissed you when he was snot-nosed kissed (you did get sick, by the way, and while you didn’t rip out his eyebrows, Hawks had kissed you plenty in apology), and then took you on a date where you went to a trampoline palace.

He was clumsily romantic. More often than not, he wasn’t actually romantic. Still, the sincere thought and emotions he put into it made his actions seem so thoughtful and sweet.

You’re not sure why you actually believed that on your year anniversary, he was going to plan something for the two of you. So the reaction he had when you showed up on the year anniversary, armed with a bouquet of flowers and a small personal gift for him, Hawks looked deeply confused.

“This is still not bad!” you exclaim, watching as Hawks attempts to redecorate his apartment from the messy bachelor vibe into something of romance. It was easier said than done, especially as your boyfriend had no decorations in his house that wasn’t fanboy or bird material.

“I didn’t realize that one year anniversaries were meant to be out and about!” Hawks yelled back, failing to nail the fairy lights onto the ceilings. “I knew you wanted to do something, but I thought it was going to be like ‘let’s go get some KFC!’ sort of thing!”

“Definitely not,” you laugh, sitting on his couch with the take out food sitting on the table. It had just arrived, and Hawks was still not accepting the lack of romance in his apartment. “But it’s okay, really Hawks! I didn’t tell you, which is entirely my fault! Come on, let's watch something together, eat, and relax!”

Hawks sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

He should have known that one year anniversaries were a big thing in dating too. They sure were in businesses; what a rookie mistake. Not satisfied with the lack of romance in his apartment but also unable to do anything more to it, Hawks sulked over to the couch and sat beside you, grabbing his dinner plate.

“Thanks, dove.”

“You’re most welcome, baby vulture. Thank you for the food!” you grin, breaking the chopsticks and digging in.

The food is eaten with a mirthful conversation, the TV playing the 100 Funniest Hero Fails playing on Youtube. Eventually, the purples and pinks of the sky became dark.

Night is here.

Hawks went from sitting right beside you to lying on the couch and having you snuggled into his stomach at some point in the night. YouTube is no longer playing Hero Compilation videos. Still, it is now instead showing a chef with a giraffe quirk demonstrating how to make your very own pancake treehouse, no clickbait!

Hawks is transfixed on you, watching the way your eyes sparkle and shine as you stare up at the screen, your lips moving as you give your side commentary, but he can’t hear a thing.

Five weeks ago, on this day, was the day that Hawks realized that the philia love he had for you had evolved once again. It had become one of eros. Romantic, passionate love. He loved you; he loves you. Anything you wanted or needed in the world, Hawks would do anything to give it to you. He had yet to tell you said realization; after all, he needed to make sure it wasn’t some fluke but found himself chickening out each time he wanted to confess.

Gliding his thumb against your cheekbone, Hawks stared adoringly at you, head tilted as you laughed at the video before glancing up at him. It was evident that you hadn’t been expecting him to be staring at you so intensely. As soon as you glanced back at the TV, you snapped right back, curiosity blazing off your gaze.

“What’s up?” you asked, hands pressing to his chest as you lift up a bit. “Do I have something on my face?”

“I love you,” Hawks whispered, the words coming out so much easier than he thought it would. “Y/l/n y/n, I love you.”

Your eyes widen significantly, your jaw dropping as your eyes grow just a bit watery.

Hawks smiles softly, knowing that for so long you had told him you loved him without a single moment where he returned the affection. It hadn’t bothered you. Obviously, you knew why he didn’t say it, but finally hearing him say it seemed to break you just a bit in the best of ways. He kisses you softly, fingers wiping away the single tear that fell.

“I love you,” he repeats.

“I love you too, Hawks,” you blubber, your smile so bright yet wobbling with your heartfelt emotions.

“Takami Keigo,” Hawks corrects. “My name is Takami Keigo.”

Hawks watches as you process his name, and a wet laugh bubbles from your throat as you nod your head, hands reaching behind his neck to pull him close for the first soul-consuming, fiery kiss of the night.

“I love you, Keigo.”

If this wasn’t eros, well, then, Hawks didn’t know what it was.

P R A G M A

two years later, valentines day

Keigo sits on the bed, fingers adjusting the tie around his neck as he stares at you doing your makeup in the bathroom. Your eyes intensely concentrated on your reflection as you painted dark red lips on yourself.

To sum up the last two years in a single, simple phrase, Keigo would say that love now made even less sense to him.

It wasn’t precisely that it made perfect sense before. Some days he still argued and wondered about how love could exist in specific scenarios. Or why, after you stole his final KFC chicken leg he was saving, he could always love you after such betrayal. It made no sense to him, but also made perfect sense, hence the complete confusion.

But it was without saying that as you twirled in your outfit in front of him, a grin plastered so large and lovingly on your features, that it made sense.

How could he not love when he had someone like you.

The walk to the restaurant was perfect; he had even taken a moment to slow dance with you when you came across some performers. Your sweet smile meant just for him made Keigo hum contently as he kissed you gently.

Dinner was amazing. The food rich and luscious, entirely to die for that had the both of you moaning about how great it was before laughing because the waitress definitely heard that. After dinner was over, you and Keigo were now waiting on desserts when he simply grabbed your left hand and slid a simple ring over a very important finger before placing a kiss on your palm.

“I know I was at one point too fast, and maybe I think I was too slow to ask this, but would you like to wake up and have chicken with me every day?” Keigo asked, watching as your face went through a million stages of understanding, processing, internalizing, accepting, and pure emotions.

The kiss was sloppy and wet, the tears streaming down your face beautifully, like diamonds in the dark sky.

It was today that Keigo unlocked the last love he ever thought he would have.

Pragma: committed, enduring love.

#hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #hawks fluff

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kirbyofthestars · 2 years

Note

Hey, what's your opinion on Soursavior/Lemonhero (Lemon x Hero)?

i’m p indifferent to most cr ships save for a handful but it’s cute! theyre good friends with a nifty contrast and i can see why it’s popular. otherwise i dont have much of an opinion on it lol

#tldr i dont ship it but its p cool #and the art ive seen is pretty #letterbox

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hiccanna-tidbits · 3 years

Note

New anon here. Are there CGI crossover ships you like other than the ones you talked about before; like not so popular ships? Also beside kris/anna, are there more canon ships that you consider NOTPS?

Sure, I’ve got a handful of other ships!!!

I really love Felix x Calhoun from Wreck It Ralph--Hero’s Cuties I think is the ship name??? Was bummed we didn’t get to see more of them in the sequel :( And I also think Fred x Honey Lemon and Wasabi x Gogo from Big Hero Six are pretty adorable, but I like TadaHoney and HoneyGogo a lot too. Honey Lemon is just supper shippable I guess??? OH and it’s not Disney/Dreamworks BUT I also ship Coraline x Wybie from Coraline and Norman x Neil from Paranorman. AND this is kind of a random one but I would kinda dig Moana x Te Fiti if not for the awkward size diff??? Like Moana straight did a power walk to this woman everyone else just saw as a lava monster singing a soothing song and being like “I know you’re not a monster, this isn’t who you really are babe <3″ and did the FOREHEAD TOUCH while Te Fiti was still a lava monster??? To get through to her??? Dare I say SAPPHIC VIBES lowkey???

Fun fact: Once I thought up this whole long fanfic idea where Te Fiti started out as a girl in Mo’s village who was her best friend before ascending to become a nature goddess and later getting corrupted into a lava goddess. And then later on Mo largely goes on the journey to restore the heart of Te Fiti to save her girlfriend from being a lava monster and it’s </3 ANYWAYS I never followed through with that idea and I don’t have anywhere near the drive to actually write that story but I planned it in excrutiating detail anyways XD

In terms of other crossover ships, I can kind of see Tadelsa or Relsa...which is ironic, given how overshipped I think Elsa is in general and how picky I think she would be with men XD But for whatever reason Tadashi and Ralph seem like guys she might vibe with??? Definitely platonically, even if it never developed into a romantic thing.

AlsO I’ve found that in certain contexts, Flynn x Astrid or Flynn x Tooth can actually work...oddly well as “Pair the Spares” types of ships??? Like they’re not my go-tos and I wouldn’t really give them much thought otherwise, but if their dynamic is written a certain way in fanfics or fanvids, it’s like...kinda cute??? Still would rather Felsa and Sweet Tooth if given the choice, but if that ain’t an option, these aren’t bad alternatives.

And there’s some ships that I’m kinda like “Oh!!!! That’d be cute!!!” but I can’t really get into it too much because I already OTP one or both of them with someone else, you know? Like that’s kind of how I am with Mavis x Rapunzel and Anna x Cassandra (saw a moodboard for this one and honestly loved the idea--Anna is 1000% Cass’s type!). But I’m always Team Jackunzel and Team Hiccanna at the end of the day, so...*shrugs*

As for canon NoTPs...the only one I can immediately think of would be like...H/anna (Hans & Anna), I guess??? I mean, he exploited her naivite, used her to try and get power, and then tried to murder her sister, so that’s a no from me, dawg XD But that barely counts as a canon ship, I guess. STILL a more interesting relationship than Krist/anna though lmao--if I had to read a fanfic of one, H/anna definitely makes for a more complex and interesting story, even if the ship itself is toxic af lol. Other than that I don’t really NoTP any other canon ships--I’m pretty all right with most of them, or just kinda indifferent at worst.

Thank you for the ask!!!

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monst · 4 years

Text

Forgiveness and Redemption

A Bnharem Collab

Endeavor: Enji Todoroki x Reader

Warnings: Harsh sexy time actions, Angst, Hard Femdom, Impact play, power play degradation, sounding, spanking, masochism, Sadism, horrible coping methods? All in all it’s fucked up. Enji tryna basically punish himself type of thing….And I apologize in advance for the copious use of the word deserve.. You have been warned.

(Main post -> Is Here!) Concept stuck in quarintine so tryning out new kink/s. And I think that’s everything so let's get it!

Being a hero. The number one hero to be exact Enji Todoroki was exempt from quarantine, he was after all a very essential employee in the Japanese government. Granted he wasn’t obligated to patrol the streets, he had the option to self-quarantine for his own health and protection.

However, after spending a couple of days in self-quarantine with his family he wanted out. His eldest son Natsuo had been ‘evicted’ from his home due to contamination on his block and he had no choice but to stay in the family house. Now Enji did care for his family, sadly he had a funny way of showing it but it was still there..

He should have known that strife was bound to happen. In fact he did know and he believed himself to be prepared for his son’s blade-like tongue. And, even the thickest of skins couldn’t stop words from cutting into your skin and settling into your bones. Natsuo had made his distaste apparent throughout the whole ordeal whereas Shouto had only treated him with indifference, while making sure Rei never came in contact with him.

He was foolish to believe that in this time he could make amends. It was too soon the wounds were too fresh and still healing. And some would never heal and they’d remain open and continue to fester. Fuyumi tried her best to keep the peace and Enji was grateful for that but the words had already been said and they had penetrated his muscular chest and seeped into his bleeding heart.

He didn’t make a sound the following morning and as he laced his boots he couldn’t help but recall something he had heard in his prepubescent years ‘Sticks and stones may break my bone but words will never hurt me.’ He couldn’t help but think it was a lie. Nothing had hurt more than what Natsuo had said to him during dinner. And as he walked out of the door decked out in his hero costume he knew that it would plague his mind for days to come.

“There’s really no need for you to be out here old timer.” He ignored the snide remark from a fresh-faced newbie. “Hey, I’m talking to ya! Go home Endeavor. We don’t need ya out here.”

He sent the hero a half-hearted glare. He knew that he was right. There was no one out Hell, even the villains seemed to be holed up in whatever crevices they dwelled in. There were just a few people going to work, to the grocery store, the pharmacy and the hospital.

“Oi don’t talk to him like that!? Do you know who he is!?” Another hero quipped.

“Tsk Yeah? Do you? The things this guy’s done.” He spat “Makes me fucking sick.”

“He’s a hero you dipshit he has been saving people for years! You're just mad that he’s actually popular.” The other defended. “What rank are you huh? You meddle in the thousands?”

He was just standing there.. Watching as people jumped in to curse him and others came to his defense. ‘He’s trying to redeem himself!’ ‘It’s too late for that’ ‘He hasn’t done anything wrong!’ ‘Do you not read the news?!’ ‘Those are rumors’ ‘He’s a hero!’ ‘He’s no better than a villain’ ‘He saved my life!’ ‘And mines!’ ‘So we’re just going to ignore what he’s done?’ ‘He’s so cool’ ‘He’s hot’ ‘I’m his biggest fan!’ ‘I hate him’

His head spun. Where had all these people come from? What on earth were they arguing about? What were they saying? Fuck he had never been so unsure in his whole life… “What.. What am I..” he mumbled to himself. His moving lips caught the crowd's attention.

“Speak up, what was that?!” Someone called out.

“I said go home! There are too many of you gathered here! We are trying to enforce social-distancing! And this ridiculous argument isn’t worth your health!” He roared. He ignored every comment of gratitude, every sneer or quip. He really wasn’t himself that day. Hell he didn’t even know who he was anymore. He had stopped knowing the day All Might had resigned.

He had made the strong blonde his life’s purpose and blinded himself to everything else and now there was just a hollow feeling in his chest. An ache and a pain not physical. He wondered if he would have ever realized these things if All Might were to still be number one… Frustrated. Frustration filled his being. He wanted to tear his hair out! He wanted to scream! To cry! To lash out to SOMETHING!

He wanted these feelings gone. Even if it were just for a moment… Maybe that’s why his feet dragged him to the only person who could accomplish that. In a physical sense at the very least….

He stood outside the wooden door contemplating on whether he should knock. But he quickly grasped his knuckles against the male before he could punk out. He heard you on the other side sliding all the locks out of place.

“Enji?” You yawned. “What are you doing here?”

His silence spoke volumes. You only had to glance up at his face to see the color blossoming at the apples of his cheeks and you instantly knew why he was there. He averted his eyes as you let him in. You sighed and looked up at him while pinching the bridge of your nose.

“You can’t keep doing this.” You huffed motioning him to the couch. When the soft cushioning dipped under his weight and he was finally eye level with you he bowed his head.

“I know.” Weak. Whoever would have heard him speak would have been in shock at the tone.

“You're not even supposed to be here, we're in quarantine.” You chided, crossing your arms under your chest.

“Please, I just need to… I just..” His voice shook and you once again heaved out a sigh.

“Fine. But this is the last time. You can’t keep using me like this, you need to get actual help, not a distraction.” You reprimanded. “Well? Get up you know where to go, I’m going to go get changed and your ass better me naked and spread when I get in there.” You ordered.

He replied with a nod and when you glared at him he piped up “Yes, Mistress.” And so while you went to change out of your sleep clothes he walked down the corridor and unlocked your ‘special room’. When he walked in he saw the usual setting. Low lights, different contraptions, an arsenal of whips, rope and chains. Your ‘dungeon’.

He worked at his clothes briefly recalling the first time he had purchased your services. He scoffed at the thought. ‘A dominatrix?’ He topped, he was in charge, He… never knew how much he needed this.. How much he needed a place to drop all pretenses and submit himself. It felt good. And he kept on coming to you. However, you had quit the business in favor of doing something else with your life.

He was disappointed at first as he was quite taken to his mistress. He loved venting to you, he loved kneeling before you as you stepped down on his head, it made him feel as though that were his real place. On the ground like a worm. No on the ground like a broken man. A man who needed to atone.. A man who needed to be punished. You were the only one who would punish him and so he contacted you.

You took him up on the offer. He was an attractive man, obedient, sturdy and he paid you handsomely. And then the lines blurred… The two of you went past the thin line and now neither of you knew what you were to each other. Were you his carnal drug? Was he your human toy? Were there feelings? When his rough hands would wonder on your form was that a sign of more? Was it just him following an instruction? When you struck his face was that your way of telling him he was scum? When you pat his head was that genuine affection?

The play had been blurred and sadly neither of you wanted to admit that there was more. And when you walked into the room and saw him bare before you, you denied that you deeply cared for him. And he denied that he trusted you more than anyone else and that you did in fact hold a higher place in his heart than just being a quick fix.

Enji’s body quivered with anticipation when he heard your heels clack softly on the ground. His eyes were glued to the ground beneath him as he knew he couldn't look up at you without permission. It was when he saw the glossy black leather of your heels that he licked his lips.

“Look at you.” You sneered. “You're practically trembling.”

Your eyes looked down at him and you couldn’t help the smirk that touched your lips. Every time you saw him like this no matter how many times you’ve seen it, it never failed to fill your veins with unbridled delight. And you always vocalized the pleasure you got out of seeing the large imposing man so submissive before you.

“To think that this is Japan’s number one hero.” You scoffed, walking around him while dragging the riding crop across the expanse of his skin. He maintained his balsana pose, trying to contain the shivers the drag of the leather procured. You bit your lip contemplating on what you were going to say… You knew it was something that he wanted to hear but that didn’t make it easy.

“You don’t deserve that title.” You quipped bringing down the crop. The sound of it meeting his skin was accompanied by a low groan and you brought it down once more. “Do you deserve it? Do you deserve to be number one?”

“N-no.” He whispered.

“I can’t hear you speak up.” You hollered snapping your wrist allowing the dark material to mar his pale skin once more.

“No!” His fists were clenched tight in anticipation for another blow that never came.

“And why is that?” You cooed.

“I..I’m not. T-that’s-” He was cut off by your fingers threading into his crimson locks. And with a harsh tug you yanked him back, his azure eyes widening in surprise.

“Pathetic.” You sniggered “You can’t even speak. Why the hell are you even here?”

“B-because.” He gasped, licking his lips feverishly as his face had already taken the same hue as his hair. “Because I don’t deserve forgiveness and I want to be punished... Punished me Mistress”

Your eyes narrowed down at him. You stood silent as you watched his adam's apple bob when he swallowed thickly.

“Please.” He whined, crystalline liquid rimming his eyes.

“Get up.” You ordered.

He didn’t hesitate. His body was burning. Liquid heat was being spread by his veins as he walked over to the spot you indicated. It was shameful. Bending over for someone the way he did. His knuckles were white as he held onto the bar at the corner of the room. He could see you clearly from his spot. You looked fantastic. You always did. Your bodice was tight against your torso and the skirt you wore was straining against your ass.

He avoided looking forwards and continued to look at your reflection in the mirror watching as you grabbed a sizable paddle. He felt his cock strain at the sight and when your eyes caught his from the mirror his breath caught in his throat. You looked dangerous.

“Why aren’t you looking forwards?” You asked sweetly. It was a complete contrast to your now bruising grip of his roots. “There’s a dirty bitch just dying to look you in the eye.”

Blue eyes met as he looked at his reflection. “Don’t worry he gets even more pathetic, if you keep watching.” You teased.

-Slap-

“Hahngh” It was without warning that the paddle came down on his muscular cheek. It was followed by another to it’s twin and he had a clear view of how his face scrunched up at the sting.

“This is what you wanted right?” You huffed bringing down the paddle in rapid succession.

His legs trembled at the feeling. The saline liquid had already begun to spill from his eyes and they rimmed his strog jaw before dripping off onto the floor.

“Y-yes!.” he cried back. “More! Please” he sobbed.

Your hand went around his waist to grab his weeping length as you abused the skin of his ass. He was as stiff as a board in your hand. Pulsing with heat and dripping with need. And when you squeezed down his head bowed down.

“H-harder.” he choked, drool spilling down his chin as you pumped his length and rubbed the material of the paddle on his crimson ass. His large girth twitched in your palm as you gripped him tighter.

“I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry!” He panted deliriously. He was drunk of the pain and numbing pleasure. Whenever your thumb would tease his slit you’d bring down the paddle and it had him babbling and drooling.

You felt every twitch, every shake, sudder and moan. You were positively soaked. You could feel your pussy drool and clench at the sight of him coming undone before you.

“I don’t deserve it.” He gasped. He repeated it in a haze as he drew near his end. “Please don’t let me cum!” He cried. “I don’t deserve it.” he salivated.

“If you say so.” You shrugged, pulling back from him before he could release. It looked painful his swollen red tip throbbing with the need to release but having known Enji for a while you knew he was a big “Fucking pain slut.”

“Look at how sloppy you are.” You chided, using his hair to push his heated face against the cool mirror. He whined at his expression. “Is this the look of a hero? It looks more like a bitch in heat. Are you a bitch in heat Enji?!”

“N-no.” Your fingers found solace on his balls and you squeezed none too gently. “Yes! Yes I’m a bitch in heat~ Please Mistress Please use me, please fuck me, ruin me. I’m scum I want- I want-”

You shut him up by pulling him back. He whimpered pitifully when his ass met the cold ground. He didn’t get to complain as a loud moan slipped past his wet lips. He gripped his meaty thighs tightly as you stepped on his cock. His watery blue eyes looked up at you pleadingly. You leered down at him.

“Does it hurt?” You asked. He nodded not trusting his voice. “Do you want me to stop?” He shook his head.

“Hurt me. Hurt me like I hurt others.” He pleaded. “Suffocate me please.” He begged.

You stroked his hair back and out of his face. You knew Enji was far gone at the moment. He was deep within his subspace and you were thrilled that he trusted you enough to be so open with you.

“Suffocate you?” You mocked. “You think you deserve to have my pussy drown you?”

“No I don’t Mistress.” He whined.

“You know what I’ll indulge you.” You grinned while stepping off his throbbing length. Enji licked his suddenly dry lips as he watched you slip off your thong. You teasingly slid your skirt up and positioned yourself over his face.

“Fuck” You gasped when his tongue sliped pasted his lips to lap at your folds. Your grip on his hair tightened as the thick muscle circled the hood of your clit. It was embarrassing how wet you were. Your stringy slick quickly making a mess out of his face. His thick fingers traced your hole teasingly.

“Inside I want them inside.” You sighed. You felt bolts of pleasure run up your spin when he spoke a mumbled ‘yes mistress’ against your clit. And when one meaty finger entered your tight cunt you mewled. You pressed down harder against his face as he began to suckle your clit and another finger slid in.

“Enji~” You gasped, while grinding down on his face. Said man was growing light headed from the lack of oxygen but he never stopped. And when he heard you cry out again he knew his fingers hit the jackpot. Your body trembled a top of his as he brought you closer and closer. When you felt his other hand slide down to touch himself you pulled him off. Sure it cut off your orgasm but there was no way you were going to allow him to blatantly disobey you like that.

Your hand came across his face harshly, so much so that his cheek pulsed when his head was turned to the side.

“What the fuck were you doing?” You spat.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, laying his body down before you. You placed your foot on his head and glared down at him.

“You're just so greedy aren’t you? You know what I do to greedy disobedient brats?”

He shook at the thought of more punishment. And when you learned down to whisper in his ear he moaned like a needy bitch.

“I give greedy bitches exactly what they want and I stuff their slutty holes. You want me to fill your slutty asshole?” He whined. “You see I was going to fuck you. See you whine as I dragged my thick cock in and out of that tight ass but I feel like you don’t deserve it.”

“I don’t, I don’t want pleasure, punish me. Fuck (Nmae) please” He cried; rivets of tears spilling down his cheeks. And so you did. You found the thickest plug you owned and his ass received it with little resistance.

“You’ve been playing with your asshole haven’t you.” You teased. “To think that the great Endeavor likes things up his ass.”

“Full.” he drooled “I want to feel full.” He panted. “I feel so empty.” You paused.

“Enji..” You mumbled.

“No.” He shook his head and moved so he was sitting up. “I don’t want to think, just fill me up.”

His big hand grabbed his throbbing length. He had been holding off on cumming so it was incredibly hard it must have been painful. But what he said next surprised you as you had never attempted that kink with him before.

“Stuff my cock too” he asked. “I know you’ve done it before.” He mewled.

You felt your face heat up at what he was acting. You knew that you had him at your mercy most of the time during your play but this! This was something akin to laying your life down at one's feet.

“Are you sure? It might hurt since you're hard.” He nodded. You left him with the instruction ‘Don’t touch yourself’ as you went to go sterilize the probes. When you came back you let him choose.

“Relax yourself and don’t move.” You ordered taking the hot flesh into your hand. You position the bougie at his tip and he whined holding his thighs tightly to avoid moving. It was different. It stung a bit but the pressure he felt in his prostate when it brushed against his bladder was incredible. When it was finally all in he panted.

“F-full I’m so fucking full.” He gasped. Tears blurred his vision when you tugged at the butt plug in his ass. With painfully slow movements you pulled it out only to push it back in.

“Fuck, Look at you Enji.” you breathed, your fingers pinched his hardened nipples as he began to grind against the plug. And when you bit down on one and slithered your hand to play with the bougie in his cock he melted. His eyes rolled back as he came and you were careful to pull it out and watched as his cum spilled off the side of his length like a volcano. Your fingers dug into your unt at the sight. One hand drew frantic circles on your clit while the others thrust inside of you in quick succession.

“Fuck Enji look at this fucking mess.” You whined dragging your fingers against the deep grooves of your cunt. “Clean it up, you fucking pain slut.”

A bit shaky he got to his knees and leaned down to lap at your cunt again. You held him against your pussy as you ground yourself against his face.

“Hnngh this is what your good for, This is your only fucking purpose right now.” You panted. You continued to degrade him as your orgasm washed over you. A sudden calmness reigning over the room as Enji slurped up your release. Your fingers carded through his hair as you came down from your high.

“I want to try the Van buren now.” Your jaw dropped. And then you shook your head. “Your really intent on this punishment shit aren’t you.” He nodded. “Don’t cry when you get hard and it starts to hurt.”

You rolled your eyes at the large ginger as he pushed you away saying that he was undeserving of aftercare. He curled up into himself and you huffed in annoyance.

“Don’t be fucking stubborn “ you hissed applying a soothing cream to the raw flesh of his ass. “You did good.”

“I don’t want praise!” He whined, trying to get out of your hold. Your fingers rubbed circles into his back as he began to cry. He spilled his thoughts to you, his insecurities, his worries, his struggles, his self-loathing...everything. You were silent as he did so and only when he was reduced to sniffles did you speak.

“You have a lot of faults Enji… Redemption? Forgiveness? It may not be impossible but it sure as hell isn’t going to be easy….. Next time you feel this way I don’t want you to come to me. You can’t avoid these feelings with sex. You can’t get better by ignoring it. Like I said before I know a good therapist, You’ll be alright, I think the first step to getting better is admitting you have a problem and if you work hard at it you can be a better person for yourself and those around you.”

“Will you… Will you help me through it?” He asked. In that moment he was more vulnerable than he had ever been.

Your fingers curled into his and you gave him your honest answer….

#bnharem collab #enji todoroki #bnha endeavor #Endeavor smut #enji Todoroki x reader #Enji smut #Enji lemon #bnha smut #bnha angst

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elfyourmother · 3 years

Text

Prompt #1: Crescendo

[for @seaswolchallenge, January edition. 2.2k, Gisele x Emet-Selch, Gisele x Aymeric x Haurchefant, post 5.3-ish]

Silence descended upon the Palais Dzemael, and as the lamplights dimmed, a single gentleman stepped forward from the shadows, at the wings of that grand stage. Unto the very center of it the Hyur strode with purpose, his fine leather shoes clicking upon the polished wood to send echoes aloft with every footstep. And when he reached the center, a single beam of light illuminated him, as he gazed out upon the audience—among them, high in the balcony, sat Gisele and her companions in all their finery. So illumined, she recognized him then, for he was a fixture in the Pillars.

“The West and East were waging war. Draco, the West’s great hero, contemplates his love, Maria. Is she safe? Is she waiting?” the Impresario began rather grandly. He turned then, as if to gaze up directly at Gisele and the illustrious. “Lord Speaker, distinguished Members of Parliament, honored guests of the Eorzean Alliance, and Warrior of Light: the Palais Dzemael is proud to present for your entertainment this tale old as time, as performed by the Royal Dalmascan Opera. I give you…The Dream Oath.”

Beside her, Gisele heard a strangled choking sound from the companion to her right, at the name of the performers—one quickly muffled by a gloved fist. “Are you quite well, love?” she whispered, low and soft.

Hades made her an indifferent little wave. “Splendid,” he whispered. “Do enjoy the show.”

The Impresario left the stage to the applause of Ishgard’s peers, and the curtains rose even as shadows fell upon the stage, and the orchestra took up the beautiful overture so known—and beloved—to Gisele.

Whatever may have been going through the eccentric mind of her gentleman companion that night, she put it aside, for she had anticipated this performance of The Dream Oath like little else. She had listened endlessly to the orchestrion roll—a gift from Haurchefant, when he learned of her love of music, and spent more hours that she could count singing along whenever she was by her lonesome. They had even played it upon their wedding day, and Gisele and Aymeric danced to the famous aria. But never had Gisele seen any of the opera performed, in the flesh. It was precisely why Aymeric fair leapt at the chance to invite her to this special command performance, to benefit the Ala Mhigan Resistance.

And it was why she sat practically upon the edge of her seat, in the Lord Speaker’s box, utterly oblivious to the presence of such distinguished personages. Instead, she found herself holding her breath, when Ser Draco himself ventured unto the stage, tall and clad head to toe in fine mythrite plate, and lifted his voice in deep and heartwrenchingly beautiful song--performed in the original Elezen.

Oh Maria!

Please hear my voice!

How I long to be with you!

Gisele could not help but sigh a little dreamily, as his rich tenor carried brilliantly across the breadth of the massive chamber, for the acoustics of the Palais were second to none. But she was stirred a little from her reverie, by Haurchefant’s hand reaching for her own to the left of her, lightly caressing it, before he squeezed it tightly.

Mayhap Draco’s song meant somewhat more to him, after a year of exile upon the First apart from her.

A sidelong glance exchanged in the darkness, and the faint hint of a sorrowful smile upon his lips were enough to make Gisele believe it. She returned his gesture, squeezing his hand in reply, and so entwined they continued to watch the performance unfold in all its artistry. The intricacy of the Dalmascans’ stagecraft was as mesmerizing as the colorful costumes, and the brilliance of the Ishgardian orchestra, every note played to utter perfection as scenes of war. It was wildly popular in Ishgard, and Gisele knew well why—Ishgardians were all terrible romantics, and she had come to learn this well. That the heart of the tale was the enduring nature of love amidst a bloody conflict in a ruined, war-torn kingdom was also something that resonated deeply with the Ishgardian character, for obvious reasons. And it resonated still, that night, given life by such talented performers as these.

There was but one scene Gisele had anticipated above all others as soon as she received the invitation from Aymeric, however, and as the stone mockup of a castle parapet was wheeled expertly upon the stage, her heart swelled.

She was breathtaking, the Roegadyn soprano, her costume a magnificent ball gown of shimmering cloth of gold, bedecked in seed pearls, which favored her deep complexion greatly. So beautiful she was, in Maria’s great sorrow, having been forced to wed the cruel and wicked Prince Ralse to seal the defeat of the West. And when she lifted her dulcet voice to the starry heavens so masterfully glamoured upon the gothic ceiling, Gisele gasped.

Oh my hero, so far away now.

Will I ever see your smile?

Love goes away,

Like night into day.

It’s just a fading dream...

Every word, Gisele could not help but silently mouth along with her, as she had so many times—luxuriating in her bath, pulling weeds in the garden, spinning thread in the atelier.

I’m the darkness, you’re the stars.

Our love is brighter than the sun.

For eternity, for me there can be,

Only you, my chosen one...

The long arm of her companion to the right stretched behind her, draping across the back of her shoulders to rustle the silk of her own gown against her skin, typically indolent at first, but his hand squeezed her shoulder tightly with Maria’s verse, and warmth crept into Gisele’s cheeks at the sensation. He was not so simple to speculate upon, this man the world knew as Hades d’Amaurot. But she glanced to her right to see his golden eyes shimmering, stood with unshed tears, and she thought upon the ancient necklace of sunstone which rested against his heart, beneath the ebon silk of his exquisitely tailored shirt.

Must I forget you?

Our solemn promise?

Will autumn take the place of spring?

What shall I do?

I’m lost without you.

Speak to me once more!

Mayhap it was so simple, indeed, Gisele mused silently, reaching over to idly caress his cheek. His eyes closed, his dark lashes fluttered thick and voluminous with her touch, and he smiled.

The spectral figure of Ser Draco appeared then, his armor still shining, beckoning to his lost love. And Maria glided across the parapet with him, following his lead. The skirts of her gown flowed about her like gentle water, and it was hypnotic, almost, watching them turn with ethereal grace. She was well trained in movement, the soprano, as much as in voice, Gisele thought approvingly. And Gisele wondered then, how the illusion was cast, thinking upon a glamour, like as not. But it did not matter, not really, so enraptured she was by the beauty of it all, as strings and horns played out swelled to their steps of passion and grace; hope, even, the undertone of the melancholy, and Gisele’s heart soared to see it at last, beholding this story in all its glory for the first time. Of a surety, it was as if she’d heard that melody for the very first time, and the majesty of it overwhelmed her a moment, her own eyes standing with tears. She spied Hades’ other hand drifted into the air, in the periphery of her vision, as graceful and ethereal as their steps, silently conducting the orchestra as was so often his wont. Gisele stole a quick glance to him again, to see the fullness of his lips parted slightly, his lids grown heavy, and it seemed he was silently, imperceptibly mouthing the melody in time with his silent conducting. Gisele smiled in the darkness, turning her attention back to the stage.

At last, their dance ended, the specter of Ser Draco vanished, leaving in his place a bouquet of roses. Maria bent low, gathering them up within her trembling arms, and ascended the stair to the highest parapet; Gisele’s breath was caught in her throat once more, her hand raised to her heart.

We must part now.

My life goes on.

But my heart won’t give you up.

“…and, toss,” she heard Hades murmur softly under his breath.

Maria did, as soon as he said it, gently flinging the bouquet over the parapet, into the waiting darkness.

Ere I walk away,

Let me hear you say.

I meant as much to you…

So gently, you touched my heart.

I will be forever yours.

“Come what may, I won’t age a day…I’ll wait for you always.”

It was not Maria’s verse which so pierced Gisele to the core, lovely and ethereal as it was; rather, the soft, imperceptible tenor beside her. So soft was Hades, in truth, that Gisele wondered if she might have imagined it. But he squeezed her shoulder once more, and when she glanced back to him?

Hades was smiling.

***

With the death of Prince Ralse at the climactic duel, The Dream Oath came to an end.

“Bravissimo!” Hades cried out, the first to leap to his feet when the players returned to the stage to take their bows, and Gisele turned her gaze upon him; tears flowed down his sharp cheeks in a veritable flood, his golden eyes bright and dazzling.

“Well done!” Aymeric shouted his agreement, tears standing in his own eyes as he joined in. Of a surety, no eye within the Lord Speaker’s box stood dry and bereft--not even those of the Admiral and her Second, to Gisele’s great and silent amusement.

And they were not alone, for the applause was so thunderous it near shook the very stones of the Palais. Gisele smiled at it, not merely at such an outpouring of appreciation for artistry, but for what it would portend—offers of patronage from the High Houses, of course, and a renewed commitment to Dalmasca’s resistance as well as that of Ala Mhigo. Precisely what Aymeric had intended with all this, Gisele believed, smiling knowingly at her wily husband.

After exchanging any number of pleasantries, Gisele departed with her husbands, her boon companion in tow, venturing across the Pillars hence for a small reception at Fortemps Manor, naturally hosted by Count Artoirel. Gisele smiled at the sight of Aymeric and Haurchefant arm in arm, a little ways in front of them, for Haurche was serenading him in his very best impression of the dashing Ser Draco, and none too poorly at that, for Aymeric’s swoons were only faintly jesting. Somewhat in him always seemed to relax in their presence, but particularly Haurchefant’s, and it did not seem to matter to him that they were in the rarefied air of the Pillars, then, for Aymeric accepted Haurche’s attentions with aplomb, even if he was slightly more circumspect in returning them.

“Haurche—wait!” Aymeric nonetheless spluttered, however, as Haurchefant suddenly took him by the hands and swept him into an impromptu Waltz, there in the broad plaza before the steps to the Last Vigil.

“Oh, come now my lord! I shall wither into roses if you refuse me! Will you toss me so bereft into the Sea of Clouds?” Haurchefant gasped, and Aymeric laughed in defeat, following his lead. Humming the melody of the aria, Haurchefant beamed, and mimicked Draco’s dance; Gisele’s heart swelled at it, to see the stars so shining in Aymeric’s eyes, caught up in their husband’s typically infectious joie de vivre.

It seemed Haurchefant was going to waltz Aymeric right to the house, and Gisele could not help but giggle. As they crossed the pristine cobblestoned streets, even the night air seemed a little less choked by the Coerthan chill—though it could have also been the heat pouring off Hades’ body in waves, filling Gisele with soothing warmth as they walked arm in arm along the grand promenade.

“Tell me, my dear: did you enjoy the show?” Hades asked rather pointedly.

Gisele smiled, leaning into him as they walked. “I did.”

“Good,” Hades purred, that typically smug tone of his brimming with self-satisfaction if only a moment, but the smugness faded just as quickly upon his mercurial features, replaced by a faint, wistful smile. “I wrote it for you.”

Her eyes grew wide, her heart pounding in her ears. “I beg your pardon, monsieur?” she gasped.

Hades grinned brightly, much like a cat who’d gotten into the cream. “Oh, do try to keep up Gisele.”

With that, the Ascian vanished into thin air only to re-emerge before Haurchefant, clapping and cheering his performance with only a little sarcasm. Haurchefant stopped only long enough to take his bow.

“You were magnificent, love,” Aymeric laughed, kissing him soundly upon the cheek.

“Indeed! You know, if this whole Scion business turns sour on you, you’ve the makings of a player, ser knight,” Hades said. “At any rate gentlemen, I do hate to interrupt such a lovely scene, but…we should arrive only fashionably late. Whatever might the Pillars say, Lord Speaker, if you lot missed a fete at your own bloody house?” he added, in precisely the sing song tone that got shields hurled at his head.

This time, Haurchefant merely cackled with a foolish grin upon his face. “It wouldn’t be the first time, messire D'Amaurot. Isn’t that right, Aymeric?”

Aymeric turned a bright shade of crimson. “Haurchefant, I beg of you, cease this talk at once or I will toss you into the Sea of Clouds--flowers or no!” he spluttered, then buried his face in his hand to stifle the laughter that followed.

It set them all off in such a fit, and it was their cresting laughter that was the sweetest accompaniment in truth, those few yalms down to Fortemps Manor.

#seaswolchallenge #emet selch #aymeric de borel #haurchefant greystone #wol x emet selch #wol x haurchefant x aymeric #bisho writes #me: i'm not gonna take part in this challenge this month #also me: listens obsessively to the italian version of aria de mezzo caraterre and has Feelings #also also me: let's write songfic about the opera like we're 14 again #and yes it's uncle ted's localization i'm old and i hate change lmao #ot4: heavensent #otp: rose and pomegranates

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kinkyacademia · 4 years

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Can you write a fic were Hawks x Male reader were the reader loses their dog(Preferably a large breed) is a villain attack. Hawks ends up finding the dog, returns it, but is surprised to see that the reader is actually the nerdy kid from his old high school and now the reader looks hot and just go on from there. Don´t judge me.

bI don’t really know who this was for, but I snatched it up because BAM it was cute :)Okay after writing this, I have to say: I didn’t expect to make Hawks such a bottom, but he is SUCH A BOTTOM IN THIS IM SO SORRY-Orange warning. This has fairly lewd content in it, but since there isn’t any sex, it’s less of a lemon and more of an orange.

-Mod Pasta 🍜🍝

🌪”Charles!” You shouted when you got home. There had been a villain attack near your house and you rushed home to check up on your purebred Newfoundland named Charles. Upon not finding him, you got worried, calling the police. They told you that they would look for the dog among the havoc the villain had caused. Anxiety plagued you, but alas there was nothing you could do. It was in the hands of heroes now, probably that up and coming new hero you heard about: The one with wings.

🌪Takami had been flying around for a while, lazily collecting distressed civilians and checking up on people around the firefight. It had been an odd villain: some rando had gone rough and used his attraction quirk to pull builds together. Hawks had neutralized him, then joined the rescue squad. It was a high-injury event because of the violent power, but all injured civilians were now in care. It was near the end of the day, right when Hawks was going to leave and go home for dinner, when he got a heads up from the police that a dog was missing. Some huge, fluffy dog a boy had called in about. He immediately swooped down to look for it.

🌪Finding the dog was a breeze: it had just been accidentally pulled out of the yard of its owner and run directly into the danger. It was trotting along in the rubble, sniffing around for a tasty snack. He landed, giving the dog his hand while he reported to the police that he had found it. The dog barked happily, trotting right up to him and promptly leaning the side of its body all the way into him. He hadn’t expected it to be so loving, and he stumbled back with a shout of surprise, then delight. It was such a sweetie! He cooed at the big puppy, ruffling its ears until the police notified him that they could still hear him and gave him the address of the owner.

🌪The dog seemed comfortable with Takami flying, so he set off towards the owner’s house with it in tow, a little uncomfortable because of the weight, but able to manage. Once he set it down, he had to stretch his arms, his joints popping. The dog barked as it happily looked up at him. Almost immediately the door of the little house opened, the light blaring through the dark dusk as the owner rushed forward, hugging their pet. He proudly crossed his arms, “I found him in the rubble, he’s pretty cute.”

🌪When the owner looked up, he definitely didn’t expect to see (L/N) (F/N) from his old Hero course. You looked up with surprise, “Takami…?”

🌪You two caught up quickly, and you offered him tea as he followed you inside. You had settled as a sidekick to a hero agency, and he raved about how nerdy you had been back in high school. You had worn thick-rimmed glasses, always corrected him on minor arithmetic details, and had a problem with self-care and acne. Now none of those things were present, especially the problem with self care… Yeah, as you poured the willow tea, he admired your ass from your couch as he removed his suddenly stuffy jacket. You took care of yourself alright, very well.

🌪You seemed indifferent to his interest, happily talking about old times and relating them to your new job. Charles ended up laying his body across the both of you, and you laughed, giving his back end a slap. The puppy barked, wagging his tail. Both of you laughed at that, and Hawks rubbed the dog’s head, still infatuated with the baby. His eyes didn’t stray from your own for long, however: yours just seemed so much brighter without the glasses. How could puberty hit someone so late and so hard?

🌪You calmly smiled, drinking your tea serenely, “Thanks for returning Charlie. I bet he’s pooped from running around the city.”

“Probably,” Takami nodded, blinking a couple times before realizing that he still had his goggles on. He removed them, placing them in his jacket on the table in front of your couch, “I’m probably imposing-”

“Never! It’s so cool to see how far you’ve come, Takami, even if we weren’t super close back in Uni,” You exclaimed, and his breath hitched. Boy did he wish he knew you better in Uni…

🌪Hawks was suddenly conscious of his hair. It was all over the place - and your own was quite obviously styled. Wait - did you just push it back to tease him? He felt his body grow hotter… That damn nerd from his old school was sitting in front of him, laughing his cute little ass off at Hawks’ horrible jokes.

“I had started a pot of rice before you arrived, you can stay for dinner if you like,” He didn’t like how narrow your sly eyes were when you suggested that. You were so tantalizing that he had to stop himself from literally ruffling his feathers.

“I’d love that, heroing is hard work.”

🌪He never thought the day would come that the annoying geek from Uni’s mouth would look so inviting. Did you keep the chopsticks between your teeth when you laughed because you knew he was staring? He hoped that was the case, because he wasn’t about to stop. Hadn’t you had braces? They were definitely gone now, and your entire face was just enticing him…

🌪You could definitely tell Takami was attracted to you. You had run into another old peer from High School and they blatantly commented on your improved physique and looks. You had put a lot of effort into them over the last few years, and you were glad that they paid off. Finding out that an old classmate was now the No. 3 Pro Hero and was practically drooling for you was another achievement you were quite proud of.

🌪He had taken his jacket and goggles off, his gloves soon following. His wind-blown hair seemed all too perfect to run your hands through, but you didn’t quite remember if your peer was attracted to men or not. He was popular with the girls ever since he was in Uni, but had he ever went after one? Not that you remember. You listened to him talk about his latest mission with wide eyes and fascination, and he continued to beef up the story until it sounded fantastical, obviously trying to impress you. You’d never seen him so flustered, his voice shaking a bit and his eyes fleeting.

🌪So you took a leap of faith and called him out on it, “Takami,” He paused, his eyes immediately looking to your own across the dining table, “Are you nervous?”

“Ah shucks, you caught me. Well come on, you know you’re hot, right?” Your heart fluttered. That was so upfront, and your cheeks flushed as you smiled to yourself.

“Thanks, I was beginning to think you just wanted to leave,” Your smile formed into a smirk, and you rested your chopsticks against your teeth as your tongue stuck out. You cocked as eyebrow as his obvious strain to not look at your lips.

“I kinda like it here. You know,” You hummed to let him know you were paying attention as he took another mouth full of rice, “My person motto is that I think heroes should be able to relax and have leisure time.”

“Hmm?” He nodded at your inquiry, and you chuckled deeply, “You don’t seem very relaxed. I could help you with that,” He quite obviously was gawking now, his cheeks flushed and sweat beginning to gather on his brow.

“Really?” His voice was hoarse, and you ended up laughing as he looked away from you, realizing how needy he sounded. You twirled a chopsticks between your fingers, then glanced at the man’s lap, eyes wandering back up to his wanton eyes, “Yeah…” He trailed off, his small pupils now fully blown.

🌪To say the least, Takami’s dinner snack was long forgotten. Once you had gotten up, slowly stalking around the table toward him, he was like putty for you. You took his hand, and he followed you anxiously to your bedroom. You had exceptional taste in style, your bed being plush as he fell back into it. He leaned up, and you cocked an eyebrow, “Finally found a shred of dignity?”

“Never, but I can’t be on my back,” He ruffled his wings, and you rolled your eyes, leaned down to place a caste kiss on his lips that left him breathless, “Fuck,” he whispered.

🌪He remembered being compared to an angle one time in bed. Sweet, flustered, but never submissive enough to back down from a fight. You ended up straddling him, and the blood that was left in his body travelled to his groin. His back was against the headboard, and you were ravaging the hero’s pride by leaving love bites down his neck, his lips swollen from a long, deep make out session, “Where did this… Even come from?” He had to gather his scrambled thoughts together.

“I had expected you to take the lead, but this was just too easy,” He relished in the purr that escaped your lips, and he took a deep breath. You pulled back, looking at your work with smug pride, “Beautiful.”

“Don’t underestimate me, (F/N), I’ve been known to bite back.”

🌪His own love marks were less intense than your own, his touch less rough and more calculated. He had flipped you positions, but you obviously still held the reigns. You were just too much for him to wrangle. You pulled his hips against your own, grinding into him. The gasp that escaped his lips sent shivers down your arms: This was happening. You were going to fuck the pretty boy from Uni.

🌪“We still have a lot of clothes on,” You ran a hand down his chest, and some form of a coo came from him. You gave him an incredulous look, and his cheeks darkened.

“I can’t control the sounds I make, (F/N),” You cackled, ordering him to take his shirt off. He obliged, and you made sure to leave a few marks along the way as you removed your own top. Both of your bulges were now straining against your pants, threatening to pop a button.

“It’s cute. I wonder if I can pull another one out,” You teased, and the awkward, flustered smile you got back confirmed that you were going to pull many noises out of this hero. Your hands travelled down to his belt as you planted another kiss on his lips.

“You’re so different than I remember,” He whispered, and you nodded slowly as you undid his buckle, pulling the belt out and inspecting it. His eyes followed your own down to it.

“I am,” You ran a hand along the buckle, “Every been hit with this?” Your eyes snapped back to his own. The bewildered look he had confirmed that he hadn’t, and you threw the leather behind his neck, pulling him close to your lips, “Maybe next time,” You bit his bottom lip, then tossed the belt off of the bed. At this point you were just torturing the man.

🌪You both had to get out of your pants before one of you went insane. You opened your nightstand, pulling out the bottle you hadn’t expected to use and a condom. You held them up to his face as he was yanking a shoe off. He looked to them, then you, “Nice size.”

“Oh,” You chuckled, forgetting that the size of the condom was labelled.

“Definitely for you, though,” He glanced at his own boxers that were still on, “I can take it.”

“Cute,” You were waiting on him, and he could tell. You pulled your own underwear off, and his eyes travelled to your length. You could see him chewing on the inside of his cheek, and you hooked a finger into the elastic of his boxers, laughing, “C’mon, embarrassed? I’m sure you’ve done this a million times.”

“I’m not a player, contrary to popular belief,” He crossed his arms, and you gave him a cocked eyebrow.

“I’ve heard otherwise,” You pulled his boxers down an inch, and he seemed nervous, “Are you… sure?” You held the condom up once again, “You can back out if you want, I won’t hold it against you.”

“I’m just remembering how you used to be. I thought you were going to be some weird scientist with warts when you grew up,” He laughed dryly, and you gasped, grinning.

“Oh really? I’ll fuck that expectation away, I promise,” You threatened, “C’mon, if you’re going to take me, you gotta be prepared,” You swore he cooed once more, nodding. You pulled his boxers down to see his semi-erect length, and he stepped out of them obediently.

“Yeah, alright, yeah,” His voice was practically shaking. You put a hand under his jaw, pulling him toward yourself. He followed immediately, and you felt a wave of dominance fall over you. Most heroes would feel shameful being so submissive, but this boy practically held pride in it. You were going to love this.

“Let’s start.”

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secondhand-trash · 4 years

Text

Every Snowflake Is Different(Just Like You)

Ficmas day 3 aka 4 days till Christmas owo

A/N: I’m aware that the plot doesn’t actually echoes the song all that much but hey, at least it’s cute and fluffy. (It is cute, right? Right???)

Description: There is something different about this person he always share a lift with each morning.

Pairing: Todoroki Shouto x reader

Word count: 2224

Yes, I know that this is not techincally an actual Christmas song but I like it so it counts.

There was something special about this person he always share a lift with.

After he graduated, Todoroki Shouto did the exact opposite of what the public expected him to do and joined a small hero agency as a sidekick instead of working for his father or made the jumpstart to directly owning his own agency like people speculated him to do so. He didn’t bother explaining his decision to anyone, the ones whose opinion mattered to him were the ones that understood the motives behind his decision right away without even needing an explanation.

He had learned all he needed to know from his father already, the title of being the no 1 hero’s son didn’t bother him anymore than it matters to him. It was his life, his career, and he would do what he thinks will work the best for him.

Amidst the tens and hundreds of agencies that poured in fighting over him, he ended up choosing a humble agency that located on the top floor of an office building. The small-scale agency was a huge contrast from the one that he interned at, taking up only a small part of the building instead of having one whole skyscraper dedicated to one single hero like many others. The pro-hero he worked for wasn’t the most popular or the most skilled, they were rather mundane, in all honesty. But that down-to-earth aspect of the hero showed him that there was more to being a hero than just skills and reputation. To save lives, you must first understand how most people live and it was the thing that he didn’t learn from the harsh training he was given his entire life.

He had spent his entire life being a hero in making that sometimes he forgot how to be just a regular person and it was a lot of conflict between wanting to prove that he was different than who people think he is and not wanting to be treated differently because of it.

It took a while for everyone else who worked at that office building to act indifferently around him. For a while, there were constant glances and whispers from people when they thought he wasn’t aware. Shouto knew that he would have to live with that his entire life with what he does for a living and his background, but that didn’t stop him from feeling a little relieved the first time he walked into the elevator without anyone in the compressed space paying any extra attention on him.

For once, he was just Shouto. Nothing more, nothing less.

While he was starting to blend in with the many civilians who were just there every morning to go to their respective duties, there was someone in the middle of that cramped 9am elevator ride that caught his attention.

You always arrived at the office building at sharply 8:54 every morning, just a little bit later than him which means that he sees you walking in from the heavy glass doors every morning from the lobby. You would stand next to him, staring at the changing numbers of the sign above the elevator with a cup of coffee in hand. For a short while, it would be just you and him until others who work at different offices of the building started rushing in and lining up behind you.

The lifts were always crowded in the morning and people couldn’t be any more impatient as they tried to squeeze into the small compartment, not wanting to wait 3 extra minutes for the next ride. Being the first ones in the line, he would always end up standing next to you in the corner. The few interactions he had with you mostly muttered apologies when either one of you bumped into the other person when the lift got too crowded of people were trying to get in. He had come to notice that you were more concern about your coffee than you were about yourself, brows knitting together and shielding the cup with an arm whenever people stood too close to you but didn’t seem to care much when he bumped into your shoulder.

By the time the elevator stopped for perhaps the fourth or fifth time, most people would have already left the lift, leaving only the two of you. At that point, he would have already taken a few steps away from you now that there are more space.

There would always be a sigh of relieve from you whenever people started exiting the lift. From the way your shoulders eased and you shifted from one foot to another, he made the guess that you went on your tip toes to make more space when people started pouring in. That’s when you would pop the lid of the cup off and take a sip of your coffee, filling the entire lift with the strong aroma. It smelt more sweet than it does bitter each time, you must have added a ton of milk and sugar to the drink.

You worked just a floor beneath him, leaving plenty of time for him to be alone with you in that lift before you walked out of it eventually. He wasn’t sure if it was pure curiosity, his own boredom or something else but before Shouto even knew it, he had made a mental note on a lot of your small ticks and quirks.

You let out a soft hiss every time you took the first sip of your coffee and tried to pretend that it didn’t happen, blowing gently at the steaming liquid to cool it down before carefully testing the temperature with the tip of your tongue again. You were wary of other people noticing that embarrassing moment because he had caught you glancing at him sideways after doing that once and you immediately looked up like nothing happened. On the contrary of your cat’s tongue, you seemed to be very sensitive towards the cold because you always carry a cardigan in one hand no matter what weather it was out there.

He wasn’t sure what it was that made you stood out from everyone else who he sees in that building every day but he found himself to look forward to that short amount of time he spent in the lift each morning.

You seemed to be different from everyone else. Unique in some way that he couldn’t begin to describe. There was something special about you, and he wondered what it was.

As people started rushing in, his eyes naturally searched amongst many other figures to see if he could catch a glimpse of you this morning as well. There were times when he found himself getting too anxious about it when you were practically a stranger to him in all means but it had all become a part of his routine by now and the possibility of each time being the last worried him a lot more than it should.

Perhaps one day, you would just stop showing up and he would never know. He wouldn’t even know your name and he would always just be another person you run into each day for you when you always seemed so special to him.

But that was a dilemma for another day as you walked past the tall glass doors wearing the heaviest coat Shouto had ever seen. He was well-aware that it was winter and although he wasn’t one to be sensitive to the drop in temperature due to his own quirk, all the people around him had decked out the woolen garments and the coats. You, on the other hand, seemed to just pile everything you could fit into onto yourself with a scarf around your neck and your arms clearly restrained by the thick sleeves of your coat.

All the extra layers made it even harder for everyone to fit into one single lift. Shouto couldn’t contain the sigh of relieve that escaped his lips when the last person who was pressed up against him left.

Finally, some space to breathe in.

From the corner of his eye, he could see you slowly peeling off the many layers you were wearing. You seemed to struggle a little as you passed the paper cup from hand to hand as you clumsily tried to pull your arms out of the sleeves. He discretely glanced at you as you take of your scarf, your coat, another jacket, only to reveal that you were still wearing a cardigan beneath all the other garments.

It wasn’t really that cold, was it?

He couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed when the bell rang, signaling that it was your floor. Now carrying a large pile of cloths in your arm, you stepped out of the lift and his eyes never once left your back, trying to take just one more look at you before he had to wait for the next morning to come.

His heart nearly leaped out of his chest when you suddenly turned around and stop the door from closing with your foot. A loud bang could be heard as you slammed the side of your shoe onto the bar of the door.

“You know,” you said with a wide smirk to the hero who was still in shock, “you could have just say something to mean instead of staring the whole time.”

With that, you turned on your heels like nothing happened, leaving a very flustered Shouto in the lift all by himself. His face heated up at the realisation that his staring hadn’t been so discrete after all.

The entire building went into a state of panic and chaos when the fire alarm of the entire building rang.

Shouto was uncharacteristically nervous when he was waiting for the lift the next day.

Now that you knew he had been looking at you the whole time, would you try to avoid him? Would your only impression of him be that he acted like a creep? He could feel his face heating up once again when you walked into the building and stood behind him. Desperately trying to act normal, he scrambled to maintain his body temperature by activating his quirk, keeping up a face of indifference.

He had physically forced himself to stop glancing at your direction when he caught his gaze wandering several times while being in the lift. He was never the best at socialising and although those few years he spent at school did help, he still found it hard to truly read social cues sometimes. The fact that he had to confront you eventually didn’t help with the dryness at the back of his throat.

It was only when the people were staring to clear out that he noticed you were holding two cups in your hand instead of one. It shouldn’t have mattered to him but the slight oddity irked him, did you bought the extra drink for someone? It made him bitter in how little he barely knew about you but he couldn’t take his eyes off you. It was ridiculous and made no sense, whatever that thing he felt in his chest was, he did not want it at all.

“Here.”

He snapped out of his thoughts when you nudged at his shoulder, extending an arm to hand him a cup. You were smiling at him and he was utterly confused.

You chuckled when you saw his blank expression examining you. “Are you gonna take it or what?”

Taking the cup from your hand, his fingertips were instantly met with a soothing warmth. He wasn’t one to be sensitive to heat, but he could feel his entire body heating up when you continued grinning at him. “Thank you, but what for?”

“You seemed to be rather intrigued by my drink every day so I decided to get you one.” You said, “Hot chocolate to warm you up, you never seem to be wearing enough clothes.”

Shouto would like to argue that you were the one who was wearing too many layers but swallowed it back. You popped off the lid of your cup and scrunched your face together after taking a small sip after letting out a small cough. “Mine has already gone cold though so it might not work as well as I hoped it to.”

He didn’t say another word as he take your drink in his hand and you gasped when you saw steam rising from the previous lukewarm beverage. “Here.”

You were still awestruck when he handed back your cup and you hummed in content when you felt the warm sweetness on the tip of your tongue. Right at that moment, the elevator’s door opened and you looked up to see that it was your floor.

Putting one hand on the sensor, you looked back and smiled at the hero who was tentatively taking a sip of the reheated chocolate. “You really are a special one, aren’t you?”

Still a bit flabbergasted from the encounter, Shouto let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in as he sipped on his drink.

Special. You called him special.

With a soft smile on his lips, his brows quirked up when he twisted the cup to see lines of scribbled number on the cup holder.

“Text me? xoxo”

#bnha imagines #bnha imagine #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto #bnha x reader #todoroki imagine #todoroki shouto x reader #bnha #boku no hero academia

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