Latest Posts by kittieswitheverything - Page 2

hi my stomach is in knots and i’m close to tears writing this but i really gotta leave the place i’m staying soon so pls help if you can. it’s about 3K until i meet my goal. pls dont tag as boost or signal or any of that bc that will knock the post out of circulation since it already has a link but thanks so much in advance for reblogging and sharing ✨

A quick sketch for his birthday <3

I read fics, I get very specific vibes, I get this specific vibe from @dabisqueen ‘s Dabi, do not ask me why–

I’m also keeping him good night.

reblog to give a plushie to the person you reblogged this from

The way I still love you [2/2]

CW: obsession, kidnapping, angst, delusional love, manipulation, implied mentions of nsfw, but you can imagine it yourself idk, and a lot of switching between povs which I don’t make note of whose point of view it is.

Yandere Kamisato Ayato x GN!Reader

[The way I still love you by Reynard Silva]

UNEDITED, I apologize if there are any mistakes or typos of pronouns. 

Word count; 4300||10 pages||

Minors do not interact.

You are warned.

Keep reading

mornings with boyfriend! bakugou. fluff.

Mumbling the lyrics to your current song of obsession, you worked your way around the shared kitchen in the UA dorms with practiced ease.

The sun was still on its way up, and everyone still snug under their covers. It was one of those days where you appreciated the alone time, a quiet space and the beautiful sunrise.

After skilfully chopping up the spring onions, you dumped them into the bowl of beaten eggs. Your hands work smoothly as you’ve done this about a few too many times, waking up earlier than everyone and cooking breakfast for the class. That’s how you unintentionally became the designated class chef as well, not that you had amazing cooking skills like a certain blonde but you were the only one willing to cook for the class.

And speaking of the devil, your blond hedgehog made his way into the living area with tousled hair and sleepy eyes looking as hot as ever. A yawn escaped his lips as he positioned himself behind you at the kitchen counter.

Pressing his hard chest to your back, he snaked his strong arms around the small of your waist while planting a light kiss on the exposed skin of your shoulder. The small action leaving butterflies in your tummy.

Humming in response, you let him stay there latched on you as you prepared the coffee machine that supplied class 3A with their daily burst of adrenaline to survive the day. Unlike them though, you enjoyed a calming cup of green tea to start your day to which your boyfriend had also picked up this habit of yours.

“Mind preparing the tea, babe?” You requested as you ruffled his soft hair affectionately.

He grumbled but you both knew he would do it anyway. Reluctantly letting you go, he went about preparing the tea leaves and hot water as you got to frying the egg-spring onion mixture.

“You don’t have to keep cookin’ for those extras, y’know,” His morning voice tickled your skin– deep and slightly scratchy. Playfully rolling your eyes, you decided to ignore him since the statement was so redundant. “Oi, don’t ya dare ignore me ya brat.”

A chuckle left your lips as you replied, “And who is going to fill your stomach in the morning if not me?”

“I can damn well cook it myself,” He said, throwing away the tea leaves once the water looked a rich green. “ ‘Sides, I taught you how to cook ungrateful brat.“

You giggled and blew him a kiss.

Out of playful spite, he fake caught the kiss and threw it into the bin, a teasing smirk tugging at his mouth.

You let out an offended gasp, flipping him off, a habit that you learned from no other than Katsuki himself. And to no surprise, he happily returned one as well.

The two of you broke apart from the interaction chuckling to yourselves at the light-hearted feud before gathering the drinks and eggs to the main dining area.

“Wanna sit on the couch today?” You asked, situating yourself down on the plush comforter.

He narrowed his eyes at you, “Are ya stupid, why’d you ask me that if ya gonna sit there already, dumbass.”

“Just get your ass here already,” You said jokingly. “– don’t forget my tea too.”

He groaned in response, muttering curse under his breath that sounds like something along the lines of “shitty bossy woman”.

He finally brought the meal and sat himself down next to you, thighs and arms touching.

Finding the contact insufficient, you slinked an arm under his and looped around, securing his arm in yours. Used to your touch, he carried on eating his egg enjoying the cool feel of your skin on his.

From where you sat, you could see the flexing of his jaw muscles as he ate and the fluttering of his lashes when he blinked, taking your breath away at how such a beautiful human was yours.

“Stop staring at me weirdo,” He said as he fed you a piece of egg.

You opened your mouth to close around the fork, humming in appreciation.

“Can’t look at my handsome boyfriend?” You replied as you chewed.

Katsuki clicked his tongue at that but said no more and if the pink tint on his cheeks and averted eyes was any giveaway, you would know that he felt bashful from your comment.

Heart swelling at his reaction, you let out a content sigh, basking in the morning sun and the calming familiar scent of your boyfriend - axe body spray with a hint of caramel. Your head fell against his broad shoulders as you snuggled his arm closer to your body, tightly securing to your chest.

“Love you, ‘suki,” You said as you press a kiss to his bicep, thank god for him wearing his black wifebeaters as it gave you access to his skin and also nicely accentuated his muscles.

A small smile graced his face and he turned to give you a kiss on the top of your head. “Love you too, baby,” he mumbled against your hair.

“You sniffed me didn’t you,” You pointed out.

He visibly stiffened at being caught, but grunted in admission.

God, you love this man to death.

reblogs appreciated <3

I’ve seen a lot of posts on my dash tonight about users who are threatening suicide, with other Tumblr members posting in effort to try to get ahold of them. I think you all should see this:

IF THERE IS EVER A TUMBLR USER WHO HAS POSTED A GOOD-BYE MESSAGE, SUICIDE NOTE, VIDEO, OR ANYTHING OF THE SORT, PLEASE FOLLOW THIS POST.

1. Scroll to the top of your dashboard.

2. See the circular question mark icon at the top? It’s the third one over from your home symbol. Click on that, and a screen similar to the one in the picture will come up.

3. Where you can type in questions, the box with the magnifying glass at the top, type in the word “suicide.”

4. Click on the first link that shows up. It should say, “Pass the URL of the blog on to us.”

5. Type in the user’s URL and tell Tumblr admin that the user is contemplating suicide and has posted a message indicating that they are going through with it or will be attempting. Hit send! Tumblr administration will perform a number of actions to contact the user and take the necessary steps to prevent the suicide.

TUMBLR: THIS COULD SAVE A USER’S LIFE. PLEASE DO NOT IGNORE SUICIDE THREATS.

Reblog this to keep other users aware. Suicide isn’t a joke, and neither is someone’s life. If you didn’t know this, someone else may not, either. Pass it on.

DELETE THIS POST

do you know what literally drives me up the fucking wall?

ℍ𝕆𝕎 𝕃𝕆ℕ𝔾 (𝟚/𝟜)

♱ Pairings : Pro hero! Bakugou Katsuki x fem! reader

♱ Parings : Pro hero! Bakugou Katsuki x fem! reader (They are 24)

♱ Tags : Mentions of misogyny (in a way), mentions of traditions of being a wife, mentions of societal pressure, mentions of breakdowns, mentions of mental well being, Katsuki's anger issues.

All written in bold italics is a flashback.

♱ Synopsis : Realizing how much she had been neglecting herself for the man she loves and is married to, (Y/N) leaves him with the promise to come back once she rediscovers herself. How long would it take for him to break and her to heal? Would it be enough to salvage their marriage?

♱ Warnings : This would be an 18+ story going ahead, so minors. Stay the fuck out.

♱ Saint says : Sorry fellas, no smut in this one. I wanted to throw it in there but, it got too long and this fic would've gone upto 12k words. Wanted to maintain some uniformity and keep it short and suspenseful. Smut's in the next part and this is just the part of the plot.

This chapter is solely focused on Bakugou with snippets of (Y/N) in between. The next chapter would be solely focusing on (Y/N) and what happens between the both of them (´-ω-`)

♱ Word count : 6.5k words

♱ : Unedited. If I find mistakes while re- reading it, I’ll make sure to edit it.

♱ Do not copy, recreate, translate, repost, or edit my works.

♱ Tagging : @donthurtmeimbaby, @ashisbored, @v-mythos-v, @idimmadontgiveashit, @samkysnks, @the2ndl, @aceleb4life, @peacchfuz, @myekim, @bitchyzombienacho, @iloveinej, @seriusamatbois

In case I missed someone, or tagged the wrong account, I apologize. As for the names that i couldn't tag, I tried multiple times and it didn't work. And this is the first I’m making a tag list o(╥﹏╥)o

♱ Part 1 : How long (1/4)

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Staying in bed past his alarms was a first for Katsuki. Staring out the window, he realized this was probably the first time he had stayed long enough to witness the sunrise,when he should be taking his car out of the garage, ready to take the same route he did everyday for gym and then heading straight for work, leaving you alone in bed. Thinking more about it, this was probably the first time he had stayed without you asking him to… did you even ask him to stay or were you afraid he wouldn’t change his mind? Staying still as a newborn in bed, Katsuki’s gaze shifted from the sun outside the window to the golden covers on your side of the bed. Swiping his hand over the place where you would rest, he watched his gold ring shine in the sun. Throwing a leg across the duvet and holding your pillow close to his chest, he thumbed the simple piece of jewelry. While he gazed at his ring, he realized this morning had too many firsts for him.

When had he become numb to the feeling of you clinging to his ring finger? Has he always been like this?

With the buzz of his phone from his bedside table, he picked up his phone, screen lighting up to welcome him to a flurry of texts. Setting his fingers to work, he notified his colleagues and boss that he wouldn’t be coming to work that day. Choosing to stay a few more minutes in bed, he silently admired the view outside the window. A gentle breeze accompanied by the sound of rustling leaves in the wind, clouds that would move from one side of the window pane to the other, a bird or two flying outside. He wondered if you were seeing what he saw while he wasn;t there at home. Letting another cloud go by, he decided he had enough and with a stretch met with a groan, he decided to get out of bed. Walking towards the bathroom and turning on the tap, he turned to take his toothbrush, hand stopping at the realization that there was only one left in the holder. With a breath through his nose, he picked up his toothbrush and continued to do the routine he followed daily, only this time to pick up the razor and stare at himself in the mirror, half of his face covered in shaving cream.

“You should try growing out a beard.” you said with a giggle, rubbing your palm across his face.

“And what made you come up with this idea?” he asked with a hint of sarcasm, taking a sip out of his home made celery juice.

“I dunno… I’m just thinking how you’d look with a beard like Askeladd.” You said, moving your face from one side to another capturing an image of what his face would look like if he had grown a slight beard. “You want me to look like a shitty viking?” he asked with a roll of his eyes as he lifted his hand to take a sip from his glass.

“Why not? Askeladd is hot. Even though he comes off as an asshole at first, he is very mature… it would really suit you Katsuki… besides.” you said, rubbing your hand slightly coarsely across his cheek. “It’s so smooth and it would be fun to rub it with a shari-shari sound. It would sound so crunchy.”

Catching hold of your hand, he gave you a snarl. “Knock it off idiot. I’m not growing a fucking beard.” Withdrawing your hand and placing it under your chin, you simply huffed and said, “Whatever you want Katsuki- chan… now give me some of that juice.” you lunged at his hand that held the celery juice. Holding it out of your reach, he felt your face hit his chest. “Clumsy ass. How many times have you taken sips and said that you don’t like it? Yet you continue to ask for it like some stupid kid.” he grumbled, looking down at you.

“Yet every time I do, you always give in don’t you?” you remarked, snaking your hands around his torso. With a grunt, he brought his glass of celery juice to your lips, letting you take a sip.

“Happy now?” he asked, taking the glass to his lips. Nuzzling your face into his chest, he grimaced at the thought of having celery remains on his clothing. With a turn of your face, you let out a joyful sigh and said. “Thank you suki-chan” with a teasing smile on your lips. Letting out a sigh, he stroked your head while continuing to drink his celery juice, reminding himself that he would scold you when you decided to nuzzle into him the next time you decided to eat or drink something, but this time he would let it go.

‘That time never came, now did it’ Katsuki thought as drops of water from the tap fell into the sink, the razor still in his hand and face covered with foam. Standing still, his gaze dropped to the ring that hugged his finger, glinting on his hand that rested on the marble sink. With an angry groan, he opened the tap roughly and washed away the foam that clung to his face, with a toss of his razor into the cupboard. Moving his face from side to side in the mirror, he watched droplets glisten on the short stubble that had grown from the previous two days. Grabbing a towel from the rack roughly, he wiped the remnants of the foam and water from his face before turning to see the shower door still slightly open. Deciding to take a bath instead of a quick shower like he normally does, Katsuki shed off his clothes and sat on the edge of the tub with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

“What do you think of this bath bomb Katsuki?” you asked, holding it in your wet hands while resting against him in the bathtub. “Looks so fucking loud.” he uttered, hand reaching out for the bottle of shampoo. “Don’t you think it would give out some very pretty colors?” you asked, floating the back of your hand on top of the water. Squirting some of the shampoo into his hands, he rubbed them together before leaning forward and applying some of it to the back of your head. “It’ll be a mess to clean up later…” he muttered, rubbing his hands gently through the strands of your hair, careful to not be as rough with it as he was with himself.

Lowering the bath bomb into the water, you heard sizzles before it began to shrink in size. “Katsuki look!” you said in excitement, giving gentle slaps to his knee that was beside you. Leaning forward, he watched as you cooed in excitement at the colors that were released from the bathbomb. “It’s a rainbow!” you squealed, before using a finger to swirl the color around, making a mixed shade of them.

“Sometimes I wonder if you’re actually a child trapped in the body of an adult…” Katsuki said with a small chuckle, resting his chin on your naked shoulder. Reaching out to take one of his large palms into your’s; you brought it to the front, feeling his forearms near your ribs. Scooping up some of the water into his palm, you held it up for the both of you to see. “Now you can say you’ve held a rainbow.” you said as katsuki stared at the array of colors. With a flick of your wrist under his hand that held the colored water, katuk felt the residue water hit his face. “And been smacked by it too.” you retorted with a cackle. “(Y/N)... did you forget who is bigger?” Katsuki asked in a dark voice as water continued to fall from his blonde bangs. Before you could turn around to ask what he meant, you felt a splash of water hit your face as Katsuki lifted both his palms, scooping a handful of bath water, throwing it in your face. You let out a squeal as you felt the water splash, forcing a chuckle out of Katsuki as he let his hands fall and bring them to a rest on your stomach. With a grin you turned to him, “You are the pot.”

Stopping his hands briefly for a moment, he gave you a questioning gaze. “I'm the what now?” he asked in an offended manner.

“You’re the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.” you said with a small smile, pointing towards the colors that had spread from the water around you to the back.

Katsuki could feel his ears grow hot and his cheeks turn pink. “Look ahead idiot. Or I’ll get soap in your eye.” he said in a flustered manner as he continued to wash your back.

The room was filled with nothing but silence. It was comforting in a way, knowing that you would voice out your love with cheesy lines while Katsuki showed his through simple acts of service.

‘Where did we go wrong?’ he thought, closing the tap before the bathtub overflowed. Staring at his reflection on the surface of the water, Katsuki began to feel an alien emotion set into his stomach. When was the last time he had taken a good soak? Throwing the towel on the hook by the door, he climbed into the tub, bulky arms rested on either side of it, legs lying down straight. The silence around him wasn’t the type of silence that the both of you shared when you had taken a bath together. Letting his head rest on the tail of the tub, he let out a frustrated sigh. This was the first time in six months that his mind had been plagued with thoughts of you. On regular days, he would be kept busy with the never ending stack of paperwork, or the chaos around the office when there was a need for a hero to be present, or the hiring of interns and firing of employees. Katsuki was good in the field and that was maybe what had cost him his home life. Business and pleasure were never meant to go together. What he failed at was maintaining the balance between the two. Closing his eyes, he thumbed the ring once more, desperate for more memories to flood across his mind as he felt the warmth of the water around him.

“You look so beautiful.” he whispered, caressing your face, ring adorning his finger. This was a compliment any young bride would receive by many on the day of their wedding, but for Katsuki, it was the day you had officially become his. “Am I to Mr. Bakugou’s approval?” you asked with a small chuckle, nuzzling into his palm. “As long as we live, Mrs. Bakugou.” he replied in a dire voice.

“I’m at my limit Katsuki and I know you. Steel to the bone and you won’t change. Please, just let me have my way. For once. I want to salvage this marriage as much as you do, but I lost myself in it. And I need that part of me back or this won’t last very long.”

He clenched his eyes, holding back a whimper as he remembered the last thing you said before you left home. He hadn’t stopped to ask you where you were going was he?

‘What happened to us.’

Katsuki could feel himself spiral into his thoughts. Temptation of contacting his therapist crossed his mind; given the field of work, there were instances where heroes were meant to be saved from any kind of mindbreak in case they witnessed a gruesome scene while they were carrying out missions. Katsuki had seen a fair share of gore, injuries and remains of citizens who were victims to sadistic villains. Therapy was good, but never would he have realized that being a hero would enter all spheres of his life. Social life had turned into one filled with interviews from journalists, messaging his PR, returning home late after finishing stacks of paperwork. Silence and a warm bed had become his comfort, advice from his therapist had become that of assurance. Food brought in by his assistant had become his meals on the daily. The only sources to channel his anger was by going to the gym or by starting arguments. Curling into himself in the bathtub, he held his knees to his chest at the awareness of how much he had been neglecting you in the pursuit of being the perfect hero. Deciding that he had enough time to soak, Katsuki slipped out of the tub, pulling the plug to drain the water out of it.

Changing into his usual tank top and shorts, he entered your shared room, he checked his phone to see if there were any messages from you.

Notification from Kirishima Eijiro : “Is everything ok, Bakugou?”

Notification from Ashido Mina : “What did you do this time? (Y/N)’s not answering her phone and we were supposed to go out this weekend.”

Notification from Minako : “I’ve notified Deku about your absence, sir.”

Notification from Deku : “Hope everything’s well Kacchan. Don’t worry! I’ll be taking your shift. Take as long as you need and rest up. You deserve it (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ.”

Scrolling through the streams of messages from group chats, colleagues and friends, his eyes landed on a message that was timed at four in the morning. Four words and one message, nothing more. “I’ve reached home.”

‘Home.’ Such a familiar yet alien word. Cringing at the memory of you leaving the house, Katsuki tapped on the keypad. “I’m sorry” before deciding to backspace it. Biting his lip out of frustration, he reasoned that it would be better to apologize in person rather than seeming a coward on text. Thoughts rushed through his head, crazed with what he should type back. ‘Did you drive safely?’ “Do you have everything you need?’ ‘Let’s talk this out.’

But the words that rang out the most in his head were ‘Please come back home.’ Home was where your things were; collected over the years from places that held memories of the both of you. Home was where the couch that the both of you fought over was. Home… was where he was.

“Every fucking time I do something for you, all you do is whine and complain about it. Fuck, I don’t even know what is wrong with me and you’re not even there to talk to about it. Is that what this marriage is?!”

Katsuki ground his teeth to keep the tears at bay, fingers tapping harshly on the screen to type. ‘Did you make it okay?’

It was the least he could ask, knowing that he had been resentful towards you beyond reason. Shoving the phone towards his pocket, Katsuki walked to the kitchen. Making sure to tie his apron and wash his hands, he grabbed the chopping board and set it on the kitchen island only to be interrupted by the sound of a doorbell. Sighing in frustration, he took off his apron and moved towards the door. Looking through the peephole, he was surprised to see the person before him. Opening the door immediately, his crimson eyes met with ones of the same color before him.

“Old hag…” he said in a soft voice, the door still partially open, receiving a surprised expression from her in return. “What are you doing here?” he asked in a gruff voice. “Katsuki? Why are you at the door? Where is (Y/N)?” Mitsuki asked, craning her neck to look inside the house.

“She isn’t at home right now…” Katsuki said in a gruff voice. Mitsuki placed a hand on her son’s shoulder. “If that’s the case, I’ll wait for her to come back. Now move! God’s sake it is hot outside.” Mitsuki said in a feigned voice, pushing the bulky man before her to step into the house. Entering the room with a coffee table, Mitsuki set her handbag down, taking a seat with an exasperated sigh with Katsuki standing in front of her awkwardly.

“So… how have things turned out for my brat of a son as the number two hero lately?” Mitsuki asked in a jokeful manner, with a broad smile. Katsuki clenched his fists by his side at the mention of his rank. With a heavy sigh through his nose, he looked down to the floor and mumbled. “They’ve been going good I guess…”

“Okay… and how are things with (Y/N)? Has she gotten used to Tokyo?” Mitsuki asked, bringing her fingers to a locked position in front of her knees.

“I can’t go on without answers, Katsuki. It’s alright for one of us to not be okay with the other once in a while… but it’s to a point where we haven’t talked to each other about it and fixed it along with moving forward. But now? It’s in a state where you’re doing fine and I’m taking the collateral damage. I haven’t asked you the reason for it as my trust and love for you gets the better of me, but how long can I take it till I break?”

“She’s been okay with the place. Got a job as a teacher, teaching the brats at school.” Katsuki said in a shaky voice, feeling the ghost of tears on the verge of spilling onto his cheeks.

“Katsuki.” Mitsuki said in a firm yet gentle voice. Katsuki could feel his shoulder shake, but he dared not to look up, choosing to stare at the floor letting a drop or two of the salty fluid escape.

“You can tell me. You don’t have to hide.” Mitsuki said in a gentle tone, getting up from the sofa, walking in small yet soft footsteps towards her son. Holding his face in her hands, he let the tears finally spill with Mistuki’s hand wiping away each drop.

“I screwed up, Ma. Last night was the fucking peak for both of us. And the last choice I left her with was to leave home.” Katsuki said with shaky breaths, shoulders trembling from fear, anxiety and admittance to what he had done.

With a few moments of silence filled with sniffles and broken gasps, Mitsuki finally spoke. “How bout I make some coffee and curry for the both of us?” she asked, taking his hand into hers, the other pointing towards the kitchen. With a small nod, Katsuki walked behind to the kitchen, choosing to sit on the chair with elbows propped on the kitchen island. Setting a pot of water to boil and two cups on the kitchen island, she filled both their cups with black coffee; something that both of them would agree on instead of fighting when Katsuki was a teenager.

Taking a sip out of her cup, she got a closer look at her son who sipped in silence across her.

Swollen eyes from crying, a light stubble from not shaving… Katsuki was always healthy with his strict schedule to count on; but mentally, he seemed to be displaced. “Katsuki.” she called out to her son; red eyes snapping from the cup to gaze into hers. “How have you been in tokyo?” Mistuki asked, lifting the porcelain to her lips.

Katsuki spent two hours; explaining everything in detail from the days he had missions, to the hours he spent at therapy to the mere minutes he spent time with you for over six months until both their cups had dried out,droplets of the liquid staining the dainty porcelain with the clock striking noon. With her arms folded over the kitchen island, Mistuki let out a heavy sigh before turning to the discarded apron and knife over the counter. “Want to cook with me, brat?” She asked, lifting the knife up. “Only if you wash your damn hands, hag.” Katsuki replied with a huff.

The air in the room was filled with that of a boiling pot and chopping of vegetables as Mitsuki stood next to her son who was adding spices in the pot. “So far, it’s good that you know what you were doing that caused (Y/N) to leave the house. It’s really time for you to shift gears, Katsuki.” Mitsuki said, chopping up the pieces of potato just the way her son liked it. “I get it that you don’t come to visit your father and I, but please don’t neglect your wife for the sake of your job. When a woman takes the initiative of living with you and swears to become a wife to a man, remember she is willing to take responsibility for a lot of things. First to care and tend to the man she is willing to spend her life with, push him as much as she can as she is the pillar of keeping a family together. It is even worse when you become a parent. You begin to place another human before yourself all for the sake of their future that is yet to be seen, but you can only hope for the best.”

“Remember that apart from being your wife and a mother to your children, she was someone’s daughter, niece, grandchild, sister, colleague, friend, boss… She is willing to let those bonds weaken and move onto tasks of being a perfect wife or mother. (Y/N) is as new to a marriage as you are, yet she is struggling with everything on her own. Kid’s got helluva lotta guts which is why I like her.” Mitsuki said with a smile as she slid the diced up potatoes into the boiling pot of water.

Katsuki could feel an uncomfortable choke settling into his throat and eyes turning glassy, fearing the worst of your uncertain return.

“Do you think she’ll come back?” he asked in a shaky voice, feeling his nose burn from the new onslaught of tears.

“Living with you isn’t easy, Katsuki. I’ve done it for twenty years, but being your mother, I can say for certain that (Y/N) would come back. She said she’d marry you for a reason and the fact that she hasn’t asked for a divorce yet proves that she is willing to work on it as much as you are. Just give her time, and everything’ll be alright.” Mistuki said in a calm voice, adding a dash of salt into the pot. “And if you do get a second chance, make sure you don’t screw it up this time, son. Having a family is just as important as having a job, sometimes even more. Yes, it does make me proud to see my son achieving his dreams and being published in the paper… but if it comes at the cost of you being unhappy, empty and miserable then I can condemn your being a hero to hell. The last thing I want is for my son is to suffer because of the job he loves so much. Drop it if the situation calls for it, but please. Don’t let another person be damaged because of this.” Mitsuki said, laying a heavy hand on Katsuki’s shoulder with a squeeze, making sure to let him know that she was serious.

Katsuki could feel the sting in his eyes from the feeling of uncertainty. Would you return as a changed person? Realize that he wasn’t good enough for you and ask for a divorce? The thought made Katsuki want to curl into himself and regret everything.

“Wou- Would she come back different?” Katuski asked, breathing heavily to not let his nose run. “I honestly  can’t tell… but if she did so easily, she wouldn’t be my daughter-in-law, son. I have faith in her.” Mistuki said with an assuring smile, throwing extra chili powder into the pot, stirring it with a spatula.

“I want to salvage this marriage as much as you do, but I lost myself in it. And I need that part of me back or this won’t last very long.”

There was still hope.

“Katsuki, where’s the rice?” Mistuki asked, looking around the spacious kitchen.

“Hold on, old hag. I’ll get it.” Katsuki said with a hint of a smile, hope restored that you would return, walking towards one of the cupboards unaware of the small buzz that came from the silent buzz that came from his phone that laid on the counter.

Notification from (Y/N) : “I did… I’m not sure if I told you but I’m at my parent’s house. Just need to… sort some things and chill out before I come back. I kept the new polish for your boots near the cabinet in case you missed it. Bottle of meds is on the third rack, second shelf in the bathroom.

Love you… and I’ll be going offline for a while. Just… take care of yourself okay?”

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‘Maybe I did type in a bit too much’ you thought as you clicked your phone shut. Then again, you could only voice things out with Katsuki, taking actions had proven to be fatal when you decided to leave the house and go over to your parents.

“Oh my god. (Y/N) wha- it’s three thirty in the morning!!!” your mother said in surprise, breaking her voice into an aggressive silent whisper to not wake your father up.

“ Why are you driving a car and-” your mother asked craning her neck behind you to see a parked car before pausing her sentence, eyeing the duffel bag that was beside you on the doorstep.

“Can I come in?” you requested meekly, the older woman stepping aside to let you into the house. “Did Katsuki -” your mother said before you cut in.

“Is it okay if we discuss this later? I… I’m really tired from that drive and I need a clear head before I decide to talk about this.” you whispered.

With a nod, your mother guided you to the guest room, giving you time to set your belongings while she fetched some clothes that were appropriate for you to sleep in. “It’s okay I have some.”  you assured her, beginning to unpack your bag.

“(Y/N) it's past three thirty in the morning. Jeans do not look comfortable to sleep in. Now, let me go get some nightwear so that you can get some shut eye.” your mother argued, leaving you with no room for discussion.

Changing into your clothes, you settled into the mattress, taking your phone beside you. Scrolling through contacts in the dark, you paused at one in particular which you couldn’t seem to leave alone despite having left your home. Tapping on Katsuki's profile you let your thumbs swipe across his cheeks imagining as if you were really stroking his jaw. Clicking on the text box, you left a message

‘I’ve reached home.’

Delivered : 4 am.

Setting your phone aside, you let sleep take you away.

“What do you mean ‘you typed in too much’?” your mother shot you a disapproving look as she looked up from her book.

“I meant to say that I may have said a bit too much. All he asked was if reached home okay… and I replied back telling him where the meds and the new polish was along with the fact that he should take care of himself…” you embarrassingly muttered. Letting a few moments of silence pass, you watched your mother from the corner of your eye to see her holding back a smile. With a shake of her head, she set her book down, placing one hand on the couch beside her while the other was placed over the backrest of it to support her head as she turned to face you. “It is but natural for a spouse to be concerned about her husband and home when she leaves it unattended. Don’t beat yourself up for it.”

With a sigh of exasperation escaping from your lips, you let your head hit against the backrest of the couch, staring at the wall of the ceiling.

“So… wanna tell me what happened last night that you drove here?” your mother asked with a raise of her eyebrow.

“Why can’t you understand that I’ve had a fucking long day and all I need is some good peace and quiet? Do you have to run your mouth every fucking time about something? If not about dropping shit on the floor, it’s about taking a vacation. When are you gonna learn that not everything is about you?!”

“It was just the final point for us last night. I feel like I might’ve blown things out of proportion for the both of us last night… but I had nowhere to really go. Crashing at Mina’s wouldn’t have gone well as she is a hero too and the last thing I need to do is drag another into the mess I’ve made.” you replied in a small voice.

“We’ve.” your mother said.

“What?” you asked, puzzled. “We’ve. Marriage isn’t a run off the mill (Y/N). It comes with shared responsibility, burdens and obstacles. Katsuki shares just as much as you do. It isn’t a mess you’ve created, but the both of you. You needed to talk and he needed to listen. That’s all there is to it. Had it been done easy and simple, you wouldn’t be here right now. Sometimes even though problems seem very simple, it can result in being very complex to solve. And that’s why things get blown out of proportion. You can’t predict which way life is going to go and what will happen next…which is why it can take turns for surprises, better or worse.” your mother softly spoke.

The turn for the worse was where you had managed to lose an identity for yourself. Instead of being called “(Y/N) sensei” as always, you resorted to being called “Bakugou- san”. You were no longer seen as an individual but rather as a prized possession of someone who belongs to an upper part of society. Not only had you become a part of that identity, but you also had to fulfill the role by being the perfect wife for Dynamight. Obsessed with the duty you had, you truly forgot who you were before.

Getting up from the couch, you were headed towards the storage room, deciding to help your mother to clean out the dusty room that she had been complaining about since noon.

“Where are you going?” your mother hollered across the room as you stepped into the hall with the staircase connecting to the small room that was the opposite to your father’s office. “Just going to clean up the storage room. I’m surprised you cared less for my room in the house and turned it into a godown for the junk you might not need.” you said with a small chuckle.

“It’s not Junk! It has memories. Precious memories.” your mother yelled while you walked away. Climbing up the stars, you made your way to the door. Opening it, you looked around, deciding where you would begin cleaning from. Grabbing a pair of gloves, a mask and cleaning equipment you decided to start cleaning the racks. Whilst dusting things out, you heard a thud of an object fall onto the floor. Picking it up, you turned it around in your hands.

“That’s a tape recorder.”

You jumped at the voice, only to see your father standing in the spot, smiling at what you held in your hands. “When your mother and I would get into a fight or when she went on vacation for too long, she’d record what she had to say… could be anything she is feeling in the moment, could be her talking to a friend or simply things she had to say about me or to me…” he said, fondness showing on his face at the sight of the small device.

Analyzing the device more carefully, you looked at the space within the box noticing that it was empty and asked,

“Do you have any cassettes?”.

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“Whenever you are ready Bakugou san.” the therapist said with a wave of her hand towards him to take a seat. Sitting himself on the plush chair, Katsuki cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the heavy silence in the room.

“So I hear there have been some… misunderstandings with the PR and the press?” The therapist asked in a soft tone.

Over the period of weeks you had been gone, there had been a wind of rumors of you and Dynamight being in a domestic dispute with your disappearance being labeled as a “divorce.” It was a threat to the reputation of the agency. The PR team had settled on Katsuki being the host of a gala where he would have no choice but to bring you. Flipping over the table at the thought of exposing you to the world that you both fought over, Katsuki was fierce about having none of publicity focusing solely on his marriage. With the anger outburst came the need to force him to go for therapy sessions for the sake of cooperation and getting his anger under a leash.

“Would you like to tell me how your week has been going, Bakugou-san?” the therapist said with her hands folded on the table, peering at him through her glasses. Loosening the tie around his Katsuki let his head hang low as he leaned towards her from the chair, elbows resting on his strong thighs. Turning to face her, the therapist was surprised to see a lowly trimmed beard that was on his face accompanied with the usual stoic expression.

“My week’s been shit. First my wife stormed out of the house ‘cause of a spat we had… and the thing I need right fucking now is a way to get her back. The right way. No ‘cause of a stupid PR stunt as an excuse.” Katsuki said with a huff.

“And for how long has she not been here?” the therapist questioned.

“Three weeks. She said she needed time and I wanted to give her as much as she needed. Haven’t called or texted her either ‘cause she’s taking a media break too.” Katsuki said in frustration. “Have you ever thought that giving her a call would maybe do the right thing?” the therapist asked back. With a quirk of his eyebrow, Katsuki implored her to continue.

“Don’t you think that you should make the first move this time?” the therapist explained. Eyes dropping to the floor, Katsuki knew it was time to ask to come back home to him… or at least try.

“Fine. But I don’t want another fucking PR stunt to be the reason my wife comes home to me.” Katsuki said, pushing the chair back with such force it went a few steps behind. Getting out of the door, he was surprised to see Uraraka waiting for him.

“Hi Bakugou-kun. I was supposed to give these files to you from your secretary but her hands were tied so I decided to give them to you myself.” She said with a sweet smile, handing papers over. Uraraka had been on a temporary shift in Bakugou’s agency as the two of them were working on an assignment of a drug cartel bust that had taken place months prior. With the side of the building burning down, causing all the paperwork to be lost, the agency needed as many hands as possible which included those of two heroes as well. Uraraka had been in his agency for over a week, gaining the attention of both men and women. She was well welcomed by the PR as they seized this as an opportunity for the display of healthy public relations of their boss. Katsuki didn’t have the best reputation when it came to joining hands with other agencies, being called out by the papers as ‘too egoistic’ or ‘arrogant’ or ‘loud’ or ‘hot - headed.’ Uraraka fit in the perfect role being an old classmate and someone that Bakugou could respect. And so, he got used to her being in and around his agency, both for the sake of relations and paperwork.

“Yeah, thanks.” he said curtly, snatching the papers out of her hand. “So… I heard there is going to be a gala…” she said, his phone ringing on cue.

“Fuck you want?” he asked in a brash voice, eyeing the name of the caller. Accepting the call, he placed the phone to his ear. “Bakugou- san, as head of the PR team, we are planning to host the gala. We ask you to trust us as this is for good measures. Please cooperate with us and accept the position of being the host of the gala.” the speaker said. Clutching his blonde hair tightly, he let out a frustrated yell before saying,“Fucking fine. Tell me when and where, I’ll do something about it.”

“The gala is tomorrow night. Please make sure to notify (Y/N) Bakugou san must be present at the event as well. It is of utmost importance for her to be there as a supporting figure for one of the top heroes in society. I will be sending her an email regarding this shortly.” the speaker said before ending the call.

“WHAT THE FUCK?! YAMASHITA. DON’T CUT THE CALL ON ME YOU FUCKER.” Katsuki snarled in the hallway, impulses screaming for him to throw his phone on the ground in frustration.

“Bakugou-kun?” Uraraka tried to intervene, seeing how frustrated he was. Red eyes snapping in the direction of the exit, he began to breathe easy and slowly, following an exercise that his therapist taught him when in situations like these. With a sigh he began to walk towards his car, eager to get away from his office, away from the people who worked for him, people who worked around him and most of all… the world that had caused you to flee away from him. Given it had been only three weeks, Katsuki was experiencing the same thing as you did, only to realize that you had gone long enough till you snapped. He felt alive when he was at home as it was the only space left with traces of you. Wedding pictures dangling from nails on the wall, bed that could fit two, some of your clothes in the closet, papers of your work askew, it comforted him. Picking up his phone, he looked at the last message he sent which you haven’t read.

(Y/N) : “I did… I’m not sure if I told you but I’m at my parent’s house. Just need to… sort some things and chill out before I come back. I kept the new polish for your boots near the cabinet in case you missed it. Bottle of meds is on the third rack, second shelf in the bathroom.

Love you… and I’ll be going offline for a while. Just… take care of yourself okay?”

You : Got it. Stay safe and take as long as you need. I’m sorry Tenshi. I’m so fucking sorry, I love you.

Katsuki felt his eyes glaze with the thought of you never returning home.

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♱ TRANSLATION

♱ Tenshi : Angel in Japanese

Reflection (Satan x GN!Reader)

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Angst; Lucifer’s not the nicest in this; mentions of Lilith and the fall; edited, but not well

Synopsis and Note: This piece examines Satan’s past, starting with his creation and continuing through meeting MC. It’s heavily based on my own interpretations of his character and story, and I took a decent amount of creative liberties to make the story what I wanted. I also marked it as hurt/comfort, but I don’t know that this actually counts as that. There is hurt, and there is comfort, and it does end on a happy note, so I think that’s all there is to it? Oh, and the last thing, this is my first long creative work in a while, so I’m sorry if it’s not great lmao; I hope you enjoy it anyway, though.

When he came to after the fall, he was naked. He could remember the way his vision blurred, the way the dirt felt beneath his hands, the way his skin prickled as the cool air of an unfamiliar place hit him. He could remember how his heart skipped a beat when he realized he felt different. He could remember the surprise he felt when he tried to raise his hand, and his body actually responded.

He was overwhelmed and confused as he raised his head. The first thing he saw in his new world was Lucifer. He loomed over him, an incredulous and pained expression on his face. Even in his most private moments, before he was aware of Satan’s presence within him, Lucifer had never made an expression quite like that. In the next moment, it was gone. Any vulnerability Lucifer had shown disappeared as his mask came back down. Satan’s next memory was a feeling, the sensation of his wrath boiling up and consuming him.

Keep reading

rb to give a flower to the person you rb this from

RAD Panic

Part of my Under the Surface series of oneshots that feature an MC with mental health struggles.

*Trigger warning: describes a panic attack and unhealthy coping mechanisms and behaviors. Please seek help if you are struggling with anxiety.*

I knew what was coming this morning when that jittery feeling began sinking into my chest, making my heart beat a little too quickly and my breathing try to speed up. I felt fidgety and restless.

That was this morning. It had let up for a few hours, but now, five minutes into this class, it’s back with a vengeance. Ugh, it’s going to be one of the really bad ones. The feeling of painful anxiety just keeps building, the pressure on my heart and lungs increasing. I struggle to focus enough to take notes, feeling myself space out for a second or two before snapping back into focus. I swear I’m zoned out more than in at this point.

I regulate my breathing, forcing myself to take long, easy breaths. It doesn’t help much, and I fidget again, looking at the clock. I can make it another half hour, right? It’s just thirty minutes.

Twenty-nine.

Twenty-eight.

Twenty-eight and…I'm not going to make it.

No, wrong attitude. I just need to be okay for another…twenty-seven minutes. I fidget in my seat again, digging my nails painfully into my palms in a foolish attempt to distract myself from the growing pain in my chest.

I breathe deeply and try to focus on taking notes and on what the professor says, but an increasingly large amount of my brain is hyper aware of my building anxiety, the need to get away, to escape, and the imminent collapse I know is coming.

Satan gives me a questioning look from where he sits beside me. I give him a smile, trying to reassure him. Is it convincing? I have no idea. I hope so.

Ugh, why can’t I just make it go away? I hate these stupid anxiety episodes.

As the last few minutes of class approach it takes great effort not to pack up early, not to squirm in my seat. I just breathe and hope I can hold it together for the last few minutes. I’m so close now.

The deep chime of the bell announces the end of that class and I throw my stuff into my bag in an uncharacteristically haphazard scramble. I barely get myself to check and make sure I’m not leaving anything behind before I hurry for the door, not bothering to wait for anyone or talk like I normally might. Trying to get away before anyone tries to talk or socialize with me. Or ask me any questions I won’t be able to answer honestly.

I just need to get somewhere private asap. Then I can let the suppressed panic attack run loose and maybe get it over with.

The pain in my chest makes it feel like forever before I find a place where there aren’t any prying eyes–a small classroom off the beaten path. I wonder vaguely if it is risky going somewhere so isolated by myself–after all, it is a school full of demons.

Unfortunately, I just don’t have the mental fortitude or energy to care about that at the moment. I shut the door behind me and move along the wall away from the glass window on the door before sitting on the ground, hugging my knees to my chest and using the wall as a backrest.

Now out of sight of anyone else, I allow the panic attack to run its course. My entire body shakes and I whimper in pain, nails digging into my arms. I feel tears gather in my eyes at the isolation, being completely alone with no one to help, no one to talk to, no support system. I feel overwhelmingly afraid and lonely and it claws at my chest like an enraged bear.

I sob loudly before taking deep breaths to try to quiet myself. I was still at RAD. I didn’t want to draw attention to my condition here. Or have someone notice my presence here. I steady my breathing until I’m pretty sure I can’t be heard outside. I let myself shake and shudder, quiet sobs hurting my throat and tears streaming down my face.

I freeze at the sound of the doorknob turning. I bite my lip, frozen, holding my breath, then quickly cleaning the tears from my face, just in case. Crap. Who’s here? Holding completely still–an impressive feat for my adrenaline-overloaded body–I turn just my eyes toward the door.

“MC?” Simeon’s gentle voice asks. He stands in the doorway, teal eyes searching the room. I try to hold completely still but a slight tremor sneaks through. Turns out I can’t fully stop the shaking again.

His eyes land on me and I stand, laughing awkwardly. I don’t have any believable reason for hiding in an empty classroom in a remote part of campus, but it doesn’t mean I can’t try to brush this off.

I hate that I’ve been found, and by one of the angels, no less. He is probably more likely to pick up on my “super not okay” vibes. Ugh, what would an angel think of me, hiding in a room to cry? Probably think that humans are as weak and pathetic as they’d been taught, in need of angels for everything. I wish I could just go back to hiding and crying. But there is a person here now. I have to deal with this situation first.

“Hi, Simeon,” I say, carefully keeping my tone light and as close to normal as I can manage. And I can manage very well. I smile, allowing my hair to fall close to my face, hoping that somehow he’d miss that I’ve been crying. I didn’t turn my face completely to him for the same reason. “I was just taking a break. Did you need something?”

He frowns at me, walking toward me. I cringe inwardly, fear of being discovered as weak and pathetic freezing my insides solid. It frustrates me. It isn’t my fault my brain presses the panic button like it’s a fun game on the playground.

But that isn’t the point right now.

“MC, are you okay? It seemed like something was bothering you during class. Satan and I were both worried, but then you rushed out before either of us could ask you about it,” Simeon asks.

Ugh. Crap. I was afraid of that when I left so abruptly. Well, I supposed I was afraid whether I liked it or not at the time, but still. I’d have made a better show of being okay, but I hadn’t been able to take it. “Oh, I’m just feeling a bit under the weather. I’m okay, though,” I say with a bright smile.

Okay. As in not actively dying. That counts as okay, right? I fold my arms, which I can feel shaking slightly, digging my fingernails into the soft flesh as I attempt to hold myself together enough to get through this social interaction. To get Simeon to leave so I can have my breakdown and move on with life.

He stops when he's about a foot away. “You don’t seem like you’re okay. If you’re having a hard time, you can talk to me about it. I promise I just want to help,” he says gently. That soothing, caring tone is almost enough to rip the mask right off and send me sobbing again. I feel the tears rising at the prospect of someone being there to help and comfort me.

My control is beginning to slip. I hold on to my composure desperately even as a silent sob shakes my body and my eyes fill until the room is an incoherent blur. A high-pitched whine escapes my tight throat without my consent.

“Oh, MC,” Simeon says gently. He reaches out toward me slowly. I flinch away for a second, still unsure, and he stops. “Would a hug help?” His tone is so sweet, so kind. I feel my face scrunch up and swallow another whimper as I nod.

His arms close around me, warm and strong. I grab him in a hug tight enough I might have had to worry about breaking ribs if he’d been a human instead of a super-powerful angel. I can’t help myself. It’s like I was drowning and now that someone’s thrown me a lifeline I couldn’t let go even if I wanted to. I bury my face in his chest and sob the pain and overwhelming terror away, shaking uncontrollably. He just holds me back, steady and warm and real.

The warmth of another person helps stem the tide of hopelessness and fear and loneliness. He gently rubs a hand up and down my back, murmuring soothing words, the tone of which is much more important than the actual things being said. He’s so warm-hearted I can physically feel it, his mere presence comforting me. I could stay there forever without any qualms.

I hear the door open again and bury myself lower in Simeon’s chest, hoping whoever it is won’t notice me. Simeon pets my hair comfortingly as he turns his head to look at the newcomer.

“You found MC?” Satan’s voice says. I bite my lip, burying my face in Simeon’s chest, not sure what to do. The dregs of the panic attack are fading, but I know I’m a hot mess right now. I’m not sure I want anyone else to see me this way. It would be hard enough to explain to one person, let alone two.

“Yes.” Simeon’s voice is gentle and soft, the tone a person might use around a frightened or injured animal. He strokes my hair comfortingly, a pleasant sensation that is easy to focus on.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” Satan’s normally composed voice sounds a bit worried, distressed even. Maybe even a smidge desperate. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard those emotions in his voice before. I feel myself soften toward him, some of my anxiety about him being here fading.

I hear him walking closer and try to take a breath in to say something, but a shuddering sob leftover from all the tears steals it away. I carefully take a few breaths until I’m more confident in my ability to speak.

“MC?” Satan sounds alarmed. I stiffen, worried as my brain tries to come up with a way to explain myself.

Simeon’s hand rubs my back comfortingly. “It’s okay, MC. You’re safe.”

“I, um, I’m fine,” I begin, pulling back from Simeon. Both men frown at me, clearly knowing that isn’t the case. Ugh. My explanation is off to a great start. “It was just a panic attack. I have them sometimes.” I say it lightly, casually, like they aren’t anything to worry about. Not a big deal.

Simeon pulls me back into his chest, holding me tightly, making me squeak in surprise.

“Why didn’t you say anything? I could have helped you, you know. I’ve said so many times that you can come to me for anything.” Satan says, and I feel a hand rest on my shoulder, warm and steady.

“It must be really hard dealing with them, especially by yourself,” Simeon says. A sob shakes my body at the gentle kindness in both their voices, at the sheer relief of not being alone, the desire for their help, at their warmth and care.

“It is,” I admit, so softly I’m not even sure if they can hear me. Simeon rests his head atop mine, and I feel Satan wrap his arms around me from behind, burying his head in my shoulder. They both hold me tightly and some abstract part of my brain is surprised there’s no arguing about who does and doesn’t get to hug me. I’m grateful for that because I don’t think I could handle it at the moment. Perhaps they sense that, too.

“You’re even braver than I thought, and I already thought you were insanely brave,” Satan whispers in my ear. With that the recently patched dam on my still very tender and sensitive emotions breaks and I started crying all over again, incredibly grateful for both of these wonderful people who care about me so much.

Eventually I turn in their arms so I can give Satan a proper hug, Simeon pulling away slightly but still gently stroking my back to remind me that he’s there for me.

Eventually my tears ease and I pull back from them. I'm embarrassed to see the wet spots I left on both their clothing. “S-sorry about the tear stains,” I say nervously, blushing slightly.

Satan reaches out and wipes the last of my tears away with a thumb. “Don’t worry about that. Clothes can be washed.”

“Yes. You’re a lot more important than clothes,” Simeon adds.

“Thank you,” I say, voice still very soft and delicate.

Satan suddenly pulls me right back into a hug. “Anytime you’re feeling unwell, just let me know. I don’t want you going through this alone. Or going to someone else with it. Come to me.”

I feel a slight chuckle work its way through my body at those words. There it is. But it’s sweet, and it helps me feel like I wouldn’t be such a burden to him if I did come to him when I was struggling.

“You can also come to me if you’re having a hard time. I’m more than happy to help. And I hate the idea of you dealing with this by yourself. I hope you’ll tell me if you are struggling and if there’s anything I can do to help,” Simeon says, a hand resting on my back.

Before they can argue I pull back, grabbing one of their hands in each of mine. “Thank you both. You’re the best.” I turn my gaze between them so they know I’m sincere. And that is when the last of the adrenaline fades and overwhelming exhaustion fills me. I sway slightly, blinking, having trouble staying awake despite the fact that I’m standing.

I feel both of them take one of my arms. “MC? Are you okay?” Satan asks, worry creasing his brow.

“I-yes, just really tired. It happens after a bad panic attack. I need to sleep.” I blink a couple times to myself. “Wait, the next class, I was going to just go in late…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Satan tells me firmly. “We just need to worry about getting you where you can rest and recover.”

“I’ll let Lucifer know you’re feeling sick so you won’t be able to go to the rest of today's classes,” Simeon says.

“But you both need to be there,” I start again.

“Don’t worry about it, we can get the notes later,” Satan insists.

“I, um,” I begin, but Satan and Simeon start pulling me along before I can protest any further.

“I already said don’t worry about it,” Satan insists. “Just let me–us–take care of you.”

I can tell he doesn’t want to include Simeon, but does for my sake. They take me to the infirmary to get a little sleep. I let them, too tired and relieved to be past the panic attack to feel a need to take charge of the situation. I trust the two of them to take care of me.

I fall asleep in an infirmary bed with Satan sitting behind me with a hand gently rubbing up and down my arm and Simeon sitting in front of me, gently stroking my hair.

I wake up vaguely to Lucifer’s voice, stirring slightly and taking a moment before I’m oriented enough to know what direction the voice is coming from. He and Simeon are talking in careful, quiet tones. I frown, hoping that Simeon won’t tell him what happened.

Lucifer catches my bleary gaze. “Next time you aren’t feeling well, just let me know and go rest, don’t try to push yourself too hard. Lord Diavolo wants the exchange students to stay happy and healthy.” I see the worried crease between his eyebrows, telling me he is a lot more concerned than he’s letting on. That his words are about more than Diavolo and his exchange program.

I smile slightly at him and give a barely-coherent, “Mhm,” before exhaustion weighs my eyelids back closed and I’m asleep once more.

Later, when I’m ever so slightly more awake, Satan and Simeon help me home. Satan makes me dinner, Simeon makes me tea, and then I go back to sleep. The next day I wake up feeling relaxed and happy in a way I haven’t for a long, long time.

~End~

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this and found it comforting! If you suffer from anxiety attacks, I hope you are getting the help you need both from a doctor and a therapist, it makes a huge difference in recovery.

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i just looked in the tags and couldn’t find any posts about this, so i’ll make one myself:

yoon suk-yeol just won the presidential election in south korea. he ran on a platform of “feminism is a hate group that’s ruining south korea” and “men are oppressed by women” and featured campaign promises like abolishing the ministry of gender equality and family, abolishing the minimum wage and setting a 120 hour workweek for the working poor, getting rid of all food safety standards, and much more. his entire campaign focused on appealing to south korea’s rising incel movement, his nickname is literally “k-trump,” and he just won.

women and minorities in south korea are going to die because of this guy’s policies. here’s a thread by a south korean woman with more information.

Dni if you:

carrd pro, don’t have a carrd, have a black and white manga panel icon, use twitter regularly, have twitter on dark mode, are 14, are 24, watched a ghibli film for the first time after the age of 10, have those 3D clackity keyboards, played persona 5, have ever reblogged a picture of goro akechi, own a fujifilm camera, wrote fanfiction any time in high school, have participated in discord server roleplay channels, bought any form of apparel off redbubble, redbubble sellers, plural urls, watched nge over quarantine, cosplayed at any point from 2013-2017, watched arcane, like talking heads, ever listened to death grips unironically, bought a clothing item that’s not a tshirt from hot topic, use tumblr rave theme, think any ramune flavor aside from original or lychee are good, use copics, watched rwby in 2014, carrd pic sourses from pixiv, drive a civic or a prius, have ever put akutagawa on my dash, csm fans, shipped those two guys from saw, stem majors, art majors, business majors, use chrome, use firefox, listen to tally hall, have shopped on depop, one page carrd

stay alive.

Not because your mother will cry at your loss but because the sun will come out tomorrow and you will not be there to appreciate it. Stay alive because the path will go somewhere exciting and you will not be able to experience it.

Stay alive because your favourite band might release a new song. Or your favourite series might be renewed for a new season. Stay alive because there are twenty thousand more series to hold you in your gloomy days.

Stay alive.

Not because your father will blame himself his whole life but you have a whole world out there for you to see. Because your coffee mug is sitting there waiting to be filled.

Stay alive because your older self is waiting for you to grow up as a wonderful person your father may not be. Stay alive because all the rights are waiting for you to fix them because nobody but you can do it.

Stay alive because the moon is there for you. The stars in the darkest of night need you to look up and admire them.

stay alive.

Not because your siblings will hold your clothes and remember you but your clothes need you to remove their emptiness. The next burger you are going to eat is waiting for you out there. Stay alive because a part of the air around you is reserved only for you to breathe.

Stay alive because a spot in front of the Eiffel Tower where you are standing needs to be in your album. Your streets are waiting for you to come for a walk with headphones on. Your favourite songs are waiting for you to give them that unmatchable attention.

stay alive.

Not because your lover will lose his/her half, but because of those roses in the garden waiting with love to be plucked for love. For that unwritten parchment that wants to be painted with your affection even if no one ever reads it.

Stay alive for the imaginations you have before your sleep and for the dance under the sky you want. For the days you laughed at your own jokes and the days you could not love yourself more.

Stay alive for your bedroom because it will never be the same without you. For the winds because they will never touch any skin in the same way. For the sky because no one will go crazier as you do seeing it changing colours. For the moon and the stars, you see so adoringly that they shine a little brightly for you. For all the songs who you have given a place in your heart. For all your favourite series you carry with you. For all the clothes you wear daily. For the rays of sun you love on your face and for the life that beats within you.

Stay alive for you.

can we please talk about how fucked up it is to tell someone "stop complaining" when they're clearly having a hard time and need someone to just listen.

no, cause you really should have an idea of how damaging it is, my parents told me that all my life whenever i would be exhausted, angry, sad or just frustrated and want to talk about what's been going wrong, never asked them to give me any solution but please please just listen for once.

it has fucked me in the head, i can't even think about sharing my problem or concerns without feeling guilty that m just complaining and i should be "positive", i can't stop thinking how annoying it must be for the person listening to me, i can't stop thinking that the person must be judging me for being so "pessimistic", can't stop thinking that m just taking their time and wasting it, can't stop thinking that m probably draining them to no end.

it's so fucking hard, i would be having a hard time breathing and just going about everyday but i still can't think about telling someone without thinking if m just complaining, being ungrateful and shit.

Bunny Lucifer

while trying to flee ukraine, poc (asians, africans, middle easterners) are reporting actively being pulled off of escape transportation to make room for more white people at the polish border. poland is refusing to accept poc as refugees period to, again, make room for more white people. it’s also being reported that Ukrainian policeman are becoming physically violent with black people trying to flee. all of this needs to be recognized as a war crime and i’m so, deeply serious.

source 1 • source 2 • source 3 (originally provided by @wheresthewater)

tryna figure out if I should turn this fear au into a multi chap (which I’m bad at keeping up with) or one really long one shot that’s basically the entire 1 hour and 45 minutes of the movie……..

Myosotis Pt.1 (ao3)

HawksxPersonal Assistant Reader. Multichap. Heroes sacrificed every part of themselves to keep civilians like you safe. But, when they lay alone in the quiet of the night, who would be there to save them? For Hawks, it would be you.

Nsfw in future chapters. Hurt/comfort and depictions of PTSD. Codependency and a little forbidden love between a hero and his PA.

Prologue

The hallway door was cracked slightly open to allow a long band of light to lay across your bedside. It was a comfort to you then. It's funny to remember your innocence. If only imaginary monsters and the absence of light could be your worst fears again. In those days, though, you’d yet to know the sting of the real world. You were ten, and safe in your childhood bedroom.

The stripe of light broke across your blanket and your door creaked gently open. Your father's voice called your name in a whisper, and you perked your head up to see his face in the crack of your door. This was a ritual you both cherished. Your father was a florist, and he often worked late into the afternoons. It was usual he got home after dark. He’d often wake you in the middle of the night to watch hero news with him, to make up for missing your day.

"Your boyfriend is on TV," he teased, and you jolted up in bed with reddened cheeks. 

"Hawks?" You blurted. It was embarrassing you knew exactly who he meant. Even more so when he laughed at your pinkined face. 

"Hurry up if you wanna see him, that kid's gone in the blink of an eye-" 

You already stumbled out of your bed. Your father stepped back into the light of the hall. His shimmering white wings dragged on the floor behind him as he followed you to the living room. 

Hawks was only eighteen then, and he’d been on the scene for only a few months. Still, he quickly became you and your father's favorite face to see in a battle. For your father, it had everything to do with Hawks being a bird, just like him. And just like you. You didn’t meet others with wings on their backs often, so it was nice to see a hero with a similar mutation. Hawks was a talented young man filled with promise, and your father loved to live vicariously through the kid's endeavors.

For you, Hawks was your favorite simply because he was cute. 

A fact your father loved to pick on you for.

"Remember to be quiet, your mother will pluck my wings if she knew I let you out of bed so late again," your father quipped as you sat beside each other on the living room couch. 

You tucked your feathered limbs against your back and nodded, but your eyes were trained on the television. You didn't miss him this time! The live camera had a hard time keeping up with him as he darted between buildings. Especially in the dark of night. The villain this time appeared to be made of liquid, so Hawks was opting to lure the enemy away from civilians as he formulated a plan. 

He didn't look bothered in the least when the camera caught a glimpse of his face. The guy almost looked bored, even, as the villain tried desperately to snag him out of the sky. He was definitely a force to be reckoned with, but you couldn't help but wonder if Hawks ever got scared out there. 

"You know, you could be a hero, too… If you really wanted to,” your dad said as he nudged you with his wing. “I mean, with that replication quirk of yours, you’d be a hard one to beat.”

Ah, your dad brought that up a lot. You loved talking heroes. Keeping up with their exciting careers was your favorite shared pastime. He seemed to like the idea of seeing you on the television one day, but every kid you knew wanted to be a hero. To follow in the footsteps of the people who sacrificed everything to look out for the community did sound exciting and glamorous. You couldn’t help but wonder, though, who looked out for them?

"There are already lots of strong heroes," you said, rubbing your upper arm in thought. "I want to be something else.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“I wanna be a PA.”

“A what now?”

“You know… a personal assistant, the people who work with heroes to make their jobs easier and stuff. I wanna get into the business course at U.A. and learn to do that,” you said as you ran your fingers over your white feathers. Those were some pretty ambitious dreams for a child to have. “I know it’s not as cool as being a hero, but I think I’d be good at it.”

The television flicked faint light across your father’s face as he smiled at you. That little cockeyed grin of his was always enough to put your heart at ease. Whether it be monsters in the closet or anxiety over an exciting and mysterious future, your father’s gentle kindness kept your heart whole. 

“Sounds pretty cool to me,” he assured you, his voice almost a whisper to keep from waking your mother in the next room. “You’re gonna do great things, Chickadee. I can feel it.”

...

The air was crisp on your lips that night. You buried your face a little deeper into your scarf to battle the cold. The setting sun cast shadows over the darkening city streets. Dusk cast the world in its beautiful blue hues. It was a weeknight, so few people were out. It was only you, your mother on one side of you, and your father who was on the other. One of his wings lay lazily over your shoulder to keep you warm against the bitter chill.

You were suffering through your awkward teen years at that point, but life was going as planned. You were fifteen and working on your first year of the UA business course. Getting in wasn’t easy, and getting your Personal Assistant license by eighteen was an even greater endeavor, but you were on your way.

Your folks took you around town that night to celebrate your grade average, and, of course, your florist father congratulated you with a surprise bouquet of lilies. The white arrangement was complemented by the powdery blue of your favorite flower, forget-me-nots. Your nose was in them half the night to savor their smell, likely a habit of the bird in you.

All was usual, and you believed that night would be like most others. Pleasant, but forgettable.

That couldn’t have been farther from the truth. It became the most vivid memory you had of life before the war.

Your father slowed his steps, his wing gripped your shoulder just a little to get you to match his new pace. He leaned down and mumbled low enough for just you to hear. 

“Do you see who I see?” he asked as he gestured his head up the street. You looked up from your phone to peer forward, and you stiffened to a stop. Up the street, no more than thirty feet, perhaps, the color red stood out against the gray blues of the city. A brilliant set of wings attached to a familiar man you’d never met before that night. At least not outside of your daydreams.

He leaned against a light pole and tapped at his phone, but he noticed your family before you were close enough for him to hear your footsteps. 

Your mouth went dry as he caught you in his sights, and your wings instinctively wrapped around you to hide yourself from his view. Your dad laughed at you, because of course he would, before giving you a little tap to try and nudge you forward. 

“He doesn’t look busy, we should say hi,” he suggested, and you shook your head no. That was HAWKS. Your favorite hero since you were like ten. You couldn’t just walk up to him and start blathering like a lunatic. 

“No, what if I embarrass myself or- dad, I- dad, come back!-”

You yanked your mom’s sleeve as if asking her to back you up, but she just gave you a stupid little grin before she muttered, “You know I can’t stop him when he gets something in his head.”

Your heart pounded against your rib cage like a wild animal. He was not gonna just prance up to the number two hero. Oh god. Your face flushed as red as Hawks’ wings. The hero lowered said feathered appendages until they touched the sidewalk beneath him. He then stood up straight to greet your father, a polite smile on his face. Go figure your dad would be the person to just walk up to a celebrity and start talking as if they were old buddies. You cringed in embarrassment at first, but it melted away when you realized Hawks kindly returned the sentiment. 

You couldn’t hear them, but your dad’s wings puffed up and fluttered behind him as he spoke. He was always bad about talking with his wingspan. Hawks tipped his head back and laughed, which made your heart thump a little in a different kind of way. He was twenty-two, then, which was a bit too old for you at only fifteen. That didn’t stop your innocent little crush from fluffing up your wings. 

Your dad turned around to gesture towards you and your mother, and then… Jesus, they walked your way. You were jealous of your father’s courage. You could hardly handle Hawks even looking at you, obvious from your puffed feathers, and there your father was making friends with the guy. Their voices echoed against the buildings lining the street, and the approaching murmur of Hawks’ voice made goosebumps raise on your arms. Your wings clenched tighter around your torso the closer they got, so your mother placed her hand gently on your shoulder to keep you from flying away. 

Which you very likely would have. 

“That was wild, seeing you and Endeavor up against that freakish hood guy. We were scared for you guys there for a minute!” you heard your father’s deep voice reverberate as they approached. Hawks replied with something or another. He was practically right in front of you. Your ears rang as blood rushed to them. You couldn’t have imagined how big his wings really were in person. Those brilliant crimson limbs of his made even your father’s look pitiful in comparison. 

“Here she is,” your dad said as his hands gestured out to you. That dumb look of pride was plastered on his face. Oh, great, he probably gushed about you through most of their conversation. 

“Hey, kid,” Hawks said as he lifted his visor to his forehead. He looked right at you. Those amber eyes were unobstructed and soft. White haze ghosted from his mouth from the chill in the air, and his nose and cheeks were dusted a faint pink from the cold. Jeeze, he was pretty. "It's not every day I meet other birds- nice to meetcha!" 

You could hardly will yourself to reply. God, how did your dad keep such a cool head with those angular eyes staring at him? You surely weren't capable of it.

"You're my favorite hero,” you squeezed out of your throat, though it came out like a whisper. Surely it was something he heard every day. That made a part of you feel better about being bashful, but there was another part that was disappointed you didn’t say something more memorable. You spent years daydreaming about what words to put together for him if you had the chance, but when he was there in front of you those pre-planned phrases slipped away.

“Ah, me, really?” he chuckled as a gloved hand scratched the back of his neck. 

His sweet, relaxed demeanor calmed you a little. Though the bottom of your face was buried beneath your wings to hide the redness in your cheeks. Your feathers stood on end, too, giving your nerves away. Surely a fellow bird would be able to pick up on your pitiful body language.

White specks fluttered down from the darkening sky as you yanked the straps of your backpack out from under your wings. This moment wouldn’t last much longer. Even if he didn’t remember you the next day, you wanted a memento of your meeting.

“Could you… sign my backpack?” you asked. Your wings finally unfurled to reveal all of yourself to him. But they fluffed right back up when he glanced at all the pins and charms that adorned your bag. Of course, they were modeled after his likeness. Your admiration was presented to him in a pitiful display. God, all of the regret! The humiliation! The poor thing made a sound in your fist as you squeezed it with whitening knuckles. 

“‘Course I can,” he replied, and his gloved hand grazed yours as you begrudgingly handed the bag over. 

His gaze dusted over the thing. As he lingered over your charms his joyful expression faltered. He still smiled, but a hint of a different emotion settled in his eyes. Your flustered disposition faded when you recognized what it was: a solemn, bittersweet sadness.

You were the only one who noticed, it seemed, as your family talked amongst each other behind you. The concern you felt for Hawks outweighed your anxiety. Why did a look at your bag bring out such emotions for him?

"Hawks, are you okay?" you pondered, and he blinked at you. “You look… sad.”

For a moment his smile failed him. The emotion he tried to hide broke through in all its glory. His mouth went slack, and his eyes lowered. But only for one vulnerable moment.

"Sad?" He said, and then his head tipped back as he let out a laugh. "How could I be sad in the presence of an angel?" 

It wasn’t the first time someone called you that, on account of your wings. But hearing those words from the mouth of your favorite hero, of Hawks. It left your heart stinging in the most beautiful way. Again, you hid behind your wings with red cheeks. 

Jesus Christ, you were gonna cry. If his goal was to distract you, he did a damn fine job.

He popped open the cap of a sharpie he pulled from his pocket and scribbled his name across the cloth. A hint of that expression returned to him, as if he was unworthy of your admiration. What exactly gave you that impression was unclear, but that look of his lingered like a bad taste. You wished there was something you could do or say to alleviate whatever was hurting him, but you knew you didn't have that kind of power. 

"Here ya go, Feather," he chimed as he returned your newly signed backpack. Really, no charm or pin could mean as much as those black sharpie stains. HAWKS, they read in messy, thick letters. You smiled faintly. It was nice to know he was just as laid back and kind in person as he was on television. 

And that little nickname. Feather, god it made your young heart swoon.

"I hate to run, but I'm afraid I have some business to attend to. It was wonderful talking with you folks," Hawks said, and your heart rattled again.

"W-wait!" you said as your fingers fumbled with the bouquet that'd been aloft in your hands. You pulled some of the arrangement free from the plastic, a lilly and several forget-me-nots clutched in your hand. "Take these."

Graciously, he extended his hand. To lay the stems of your father's flowers in Hawks' gloved palm felt like a dream, but a genuine smile returned to his face as he looked them over.

"Oh, they're so pretty," he said.

"T-they're my favorite. Forget-me-nots," you replied, cheeks pinked with the realization of how on the nose the flower choice was. "My dad grew them at his shop."

He tucked the small bundle of flowers into his jacket pocket, and then gave it a pat. 

"Sounds like a good luck charm if I ever heard of one," he said, grinning. "Thank you. I'll see you guys around!"

With That, his visor fell back down over his face and his wings stretched outwards, reaching high above you and your parents. His wingspan alone was intimidating. To be in their shadow made you feel vulnerable and small. 

"Hey, thanks for taking the time!" Your dad replied. Hawks waved before vanishing into the darkness of the evening sky.

You were completely ecstatic about the chance meeting, naturally, but that broken look on his face haunted you with unanswered questions. Little did you know your life would one day revolve solely around finding the answers. 

…

Chapter 1

Life goes on, they say. Many parts of the city remained in ruins as reconstruction efforts heaved on for years after the war, but things slowly began to look the same again. You could walk down the street without being reminded of that terrible time, which was good, because today was supposed to be one of the best in your life. 

You were an adult, well, sort of, finally having turned eighteen and graduated from school. You were the top of your class at UA, a goal you worked tirelessly to achieve. 

That’s what earned you the right to take the PA certification exam the week before. Hundreds of hopefuls went in for testing. Only a fraction left with a license. And, honestly, you weren't surprised you were the only one to achieve a perfect score. It could be no other way if your dream was to be realized. To become the most saught after personal assistant in Japan.

Looking after someone in the hero field isn’t a job for the faint of heart, and there’s a lot more to the title than most people realize. To keep heroes on task and handle their business dealings was only a small part of the job. The other chunk of the was what got you interested to begin with. The human part. Every PA is required to act as psychological support as well. You took four years of psychology through school to even be allowed to take the certification exam. 

At the end of the day, heroes sacrificed every part of themselves to keep civilians like you safe. They got hurt. Their loved ones died. A heroes' job was to do the saving. But, after so much had been lost and they lay alone in the quiet of the night, who would be there to save them?

For some hero out there, you would be by the end of the afternoon.

The Safety Commission administered your exam and that day they’d be assigning you to a hero. Anxiety coursed through you, of course. This was your first PA assignment, so you’d probably be placed with a lesser known hero who just needed some extra help around the office. At least until you proved yourself worthy of handling more serious cases. A rookie like you won’t be placed with the likes of a top ten or anything, but that thought helped ease the anxiety. 

You hummed pleasantly to yourself as your dress shoes clicked against the pavement, daydreaming about who you could end up assigned to. But the daydreaming halted when you realized the footsteps behind you got persistently closer. Your head turned to glance around your wings, but your steps got faster. A man lingered behind your stride, and it seemed he was following you. He could've had bad intentions, or he could've just been in a hurry. Your side of the street is rather sparsely populated, however, and he never walked past you. 

You made eye contact, but his legs moved in tandem with yours, inching closer and closer with each step. He would've stepped on your tail feathers if his dirty sneakers got any closer. Your wings puffed in preparation to take off in flight if the guy tried anything. As he got close enough for your wings to pump in warning, a large, dark shadow glided over you. Your eyes shot upward, and your heart settled comfortably when you saw a pair of red wings block out the sun. It was a hero. The number two hero, Hawks, specifically.

His wings pumped before his boots slammed into a utility pole not far ahead. He squatted and lifted his visor for a better view as the footsteps behind you slowed. You never stopped walking, even as you watched the hero land. Your flight instincts were too strong to stop even for a good look at Hawks. With one more glance between your feathers, though, you noticed the man who’d been on your tail turned onto another street. 

Whether that stranger actually had any ill will or not you couldn’t be sure, but you were happy to accept you’d never know. Thanks to Hawks’ keen eye keeping watch over you. 

You stopped.

You looked at Hawks.

He looked at you.

He was probably thirty feet above you. His scars were easily seen when you were so close to him. Remnants of the war that still lingered on his flesh. The left side of his face was framed with thick, damaged tissue. The state of his left wing looked about the same. Much of the red plumage never grew back, so the poor thing looked gimpy compared to its twin. Somehow he still managed to retain his charming looks despite those things, you noticed.

He smiled, and you tried to scan his face for any hint of recognition. Though his eyes lingered for a long moment on the shape of your face he didn't seem to remember you. 

You hesitated, but raised a hand to wave a silent thank you.

You wished he was close enough to hear your voice. To see your vaguely familiar face. You’d be able to speak with more confidence than the younger version of yourself had all those years ago, but your words wouldn’t reach him.

His visor fell back over his face as he stood. And, just as quickly as he swooped in, his crimson wings lifted him back up. And he was gone. 

It took several moments for you to collect yourself. Despite not knowing him personally, Hawks felt like an old friend in a way. The connection you lost with your father was mirrored in your feelings of the number two hero. Having seen those red wings brought you a cocktail of bittersweet sadness and gentle relief that was hard to swallow. Hopefully he didn’t notice your old backpack that'd been repurposed as a work bag.

You tucked the thing against your side to hide his faded signature on the front, then continued on your way. 

...

The commission was bustling, as always. It was one of the first facilities rebuilt after the war, and the new management was determined to be at the forefront of restoring peace. Thanks to government funding it became a hub of cooperation and progress. Thankfully, the PA program received a lot of that investment.

When you stepped into the lobby your senses were assaulted with sight and sound. People in suits scrambled about and the sounds of ringing telephones and keyboards being furiously typed upon echoed against the walls. You were told over the phone to go upstairs into a meeting room to be briefed. You didn’t have to check in or wait in the lobby, they told you. So it was a surprise to see the other newly licensed PAs doing exactly what you were told not to. 

Nine PA newbies sat in a circle around a table as they waited to be called back for their assignments. You recognized them all from the exam. This was your first clue something was off about your briefing. Especially when the other PAs watched you walk towards the elevators in confused silence. Somehow this was even more nerve wracking than taking the exam was. 

Tenth floor, third door on the right, you were told. When you slipped into the little meeting room your palms began to sweat. You were expecting only the man who scored your exam results to be present for your assignment. Instead, you stood in a claustrophobic room surrounded by him, the acting president of the commission, and three other people you don’t know. 

The president, a man named Mera, greeted you by your full name. Your hair stood on end. Why the hell was he here? You were just getting placed with a hero today, right? Right? 

“Thank you for coming, could you close the door behind you?” the president requested. You leaned back against it until it clicked shut. Your cheeks tinted a slight pink in your anxiety and your palm sweat felt gross in your hands. Was this an interrogation or something? The air of the room was so thick it was hard to breathe in. 

You willed yourself to take the seat across from the group. Questions ran through your head. One hundred thousand questions, but you were too intimidated to ask any of them. Your wings curled up tight to your back as one of the men cleared his throat. 

“I know this is a lot you didn’t expect. We don’t mean to be intimidating, so take a breath,” he said, and you quickly expelled the one you were holding. “We have a hero to assign to you, but this is an unorthodox case. A meeting with the president is a requirement before we can place you together.”

Jesus christ, were they asking you to pull All Might out of retirement or something?

“You’re talking like you’re placing me with number one,” you managed to quip with a nervous laugh, but you regretted speaking out of turn when the group of suits sat in serious silence. 

“Number two,” the president corrected, and it was suddenly hard to swallow.

“Come... again?” you said as your wings slumped to the tile floor.

“We’re assigning you to number two- Hawks,” he repeated himself. 

Of course. How could it have been anything else?

It took everything you had not to bite hard into your bottom lip. To keep composure was your first lesson in your PA coursework, so your face remained soft despite your pounding heart. It made no sense why you would be their pick to look after a hero like Hawks. He’d been in the game since you were in grade school. The man spearheaded a war for god’s sake. What help could a newbie PA be to someone like him?

Even the universe was making fun of you for your childlike attachment to him. 

“I’m honored you’d consider me for such a position, of course,” you began cautiously. Should you tell them this wasn't the job for you? It'd be impossible to properly council someone you spent the better part of your life being invested in. From an ethical standpoint, anyway. And this would be your first ever assignment. “I just passed my certifications last week, though. I have no field experience yet. With all due respect, why me?” 

"You're a bird," the president said. Again, you released a small laugh. And, again, he didn't reciprocate. Was he being serious? You sat up a little and held your tongue as he continued. "You also accomplished a perfect score on your exam. Of this year's new PA batch you seem the most promising fit… Not to undermine your skills, but, if I’m being transparent, placing you together is a last resort. We’ve assigned several experienced PAs to him, but it’s done no good.”

Your brow furrowed at that bit of information. From the outside Hawks seemed like a PAs dream with his squeaky clean reputation and friendly demeanor. You couldn’t imagine why he’d have issues getting along with anyone. But that only proved how little you really knew him. 

"It sounds like he doesn't want the help you're giving him."

The president sighed.

“As you probably know, he took a year hiatus after his involvement in the war,” he continued, and you nodded.

Of course you knew. What kind of superfan would you be otherwise? Still, it was his reintroduction you remember moreso. Purely because of the excitement and relief you felt to see him back in action. There was no announcement of his return. One day, he was gone. The next, his agency doors were back open and his silhouette once again graced the streets below him. 

Despite all the buzz around him the year he was down and out, his condition was kept an illusive secret. Even now, after two years back on the job, no one really knew the specifics around his hiatus. An impressive feat, considering his wiki article alone was ten miles long. 

"Yes, I remember when he took time off."

"It wasn't of his own volition, I'm afraid. We suspended his license that year."

The confession floored you into shocked silence, and again you battled your heart to stop drumming so hard. This was something no one knew. Not the media, his fan pages, and not even other heroes if their interviews were genuine.

"Why?" you managed.

"This is strictly private information and considered a confidential part of your briefing, whether or not you accept the position."

What the hell were you getting into?

"I understand."

The president leaned into the table with his elbow and pinched the bridge of his nose. You'd seen many of his television appearances. He was portrayed as a strong-willed man who never faltered. The only one with enough guts to rebuild the HPSC despite the damning rumors circulating about it's previous administration and their dealings. If only you knew back then how deep that rabbit hole went.

"Hawks wanted to jump back into the thick of hero work once the war was over," he began, "but he developed psychological burdens that hindered his ability to perform, hence the revoking of his license. We tried to admit him to our recovery program, like we did for every hero who fought in the war, but his turbulent relationship with the previous HPSC administration made it difficult for us to help. He doesn't trust us, and I can't blame him."

"He had personal issues with the HPSC?"

"There's a lot the public doesn't know about his story. Unfortunately, most of it is tragic."

Your eyes became a bit misty. You knew everything there was to know about Hawks, or so you thought. Every confession from the president made you realize you really knew nothing at all.  

“He recovered better than we anticipated in that year. He passed our exams and his license was reinstated, but his performance is suffering again. We fear it’s only a matter of time before he slips up in the wrong moment. We don’t want to lose him, you understand?”

You did, somehow. He spoke so vaguely it was hard to form a big picture. But a memory invaded your thoughts. It was an old one you often found yourself reliving in quiet moments. When you met him in the chill of winter all those years ago, and he signed your backpack with that empty sadness that plagued your thoughts. Looking back now, you realize that moment took place not long before the war. Was that the cause of his grief? He knew it was coming? Did he never escape from that sadness?

You thought back to only an hour or so before this tense meeting. What a wild coincidence it was you saw him that day. Though the predicament you were in that morning could have easily been overlooked, he stopped for you. He made sure you were safe. It only felt right to do the same for him in return.

Thinking of this assignment as returning favors to him made it easier to swallow.

“So, my assignment is to correct behavioral issues?” you asked. Your voice had more confidence now, as if this was something you’d done a hundred times before. Internally, you were quaking. “Can you give me some specifics to work with? Having a plan before we meet for the first time is detrimental if I'm going to get anywhere with him.” 

The group looked at the president, who let a sigh slip from his aged lips. Frustration was on his face, but it wasn’t aimed towards you. His mind seemed elsewhere as he reached into his work bag and extracted a manilla folder. Hawks' case file. Seems your cool head and straightforward demeanor paid off with the president.

"His judgement is impaired," he informed you as he held the case file out for you. "He was at one time our most reliable hero. But now… well, he can be a liability even to himself at times. He uses excessive force against targets when not necessary, and other times he's unable to engage at all. He often can't keep up in life or death situations- he's lucky he's squeaked by the last couple years relatively unscathed. Because he's been so resistant to his past assistants we aren't sure how to best help him… hopefully you'll make him comfortable enough to find out. Everything we know is in that file."

He trailed off as his eyes narrowed with an emotion you couldn't decipher. His expression teetered between uncertainty and hope when he watched you crack open the folder handed to you. Despite the long list of previous PAs detailed on the first page, the stack of paper was rather thin. Apparently they only lasted long enough to report back a handful of times.

What the hell was he doing to those very experienced assistants to make them flake out in just a few weeks? These files were going to be an interesting read. It peeked your interest as a dutiful PA as well as a curious long time fan.

Another suited man you'd yet to hear speak piped up. "This is a lot to ask of you, we understand. Don't feel pressured to accept the placement if you don't think it will suit you."

"I'm still reeling from the suddenness of all of this," you confess. And, honestly, there was nothing you could offer Hawks that his previous PAs couldn't. "But I wanted this job so I could help heroes, so I'll do the best I can." 

ℍ𝕆𝕎 𝕃𝕆ℕ𝔾 (𝟙/𝟛)

♱ Parings : Pro hero! Bakugou Katsuki x fem! reader (They are 24)

♱ Tags : Reader cries alot and is lonely, Katsuki is an asshole in this part (sorry guys, I've been craving angst and fluff), mentions of mental wellbeing, mentions of toxic relationship, yelling, screaming, humiliation and anger.

All written in bold italics is a flashback.

♱ Synopsis : Realizing how much she had been neglecting herself for the man she loves and is married to, (Y/N) leaves him with the promise to come back once she rediscover herself once more. How long would it take for him to break and her to heal? Would it be enough to salvage their marriage?

♱ Warnings : This would be an 18+ story going ahead, so minors. Stay the fuck out.

For the first part there is nothing much to add.

♱ Saint says : It's finally here !! Haven't written bakugou in so long, that I finally did!!

♱ Status : It’s unedited. If there are mistakes while I’m re reading it, I’ll correct it :)

♱ Word count : 4.5k words.

Tag list for this series is open. If you want to be added, feel free to comment below . Please make sure you have your age in your bio or somewhere I can see it (including dms or I won’t hesitate to block you.

Do not copy, recreate, translate or edit my works.

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‘In sickness and in health.’

‘To have and to hold.’

‘To cherish and to love.’

‘Till death do us part.’

“Marriages were matches made in heaven” was a household statement you grew up with.

‘Where did we go wrong?’.

It hadn’t been long since Katsuki and you had decided to tie the knot, but with the way things were going on lately, it sure seems like the bond of matrimony had been dragged out long enough for the both of you to not stay in the same room, let alone stand the sight of each of each other without another argument breaking out.

“Why don’t you fucking go take a vacation by yourself?! Why do I have to be dragged along?” Katsuki yelled from the couch as you scrolled through a list of hotel rooms. “Japan isn’t going to collapse if you’re away for a few days, Katsuki. Heroes would be on a watch like they always have and the country along with its cities would be safe. Besides, it would be a good break for us-” you tried to reason, only to be met with a harsh glare that signaled there was no room for discussion. “What does a school teacher know about a hero? All you do is take care of snot nosed brats who do nothing but run around and play all day.” Katsuki muttered under his breath before turning to leave you in the middle of the room, whilst you clutched your laptop to your chest. His voice was low enough to convince himself that you didn’t hear him, but you did.

Arguments were not new with Katsuki. At first glance, he was loud and brash which women did not usually desire in a man. Patience was key when it came to dealing with him, and overtime, loving him became as easy as breathing.

“I told you to not leave your gauntlets on the floor Katsuki! Look!” you said, lifting the heavy object off the ground, frowning when another scotch mark was added to several. “Would you calm the fuck down? I just got home after a long day of catching some goddamn villain. I don’t have the time or energy to deal with you or your whiny ass.” he retorted venomously, kicking his shoes to the side in anger while throwing his gloves on the rack beside the entrance of your shared home. With a heavy breath through his mouth, he walked past you, not bothering to fix the mess he had made. Hearing footsteps disappear behind you, you felt a tear roll down your cheek, turning towards his messily scattered boots and gloves.

‘He might need them tomorrow’ you told yourself as you bent to pick up the shoes he threw in anger and kept them in their rightful place towards the right shelf that had been specifically designed for them. Picking up his gauntlets and placing them to the side, you stared at the sunken scorch mark into the wood, wishing it would disappear. Instead, it remained there as a memory of the time you didn’t matter to Katsuki.

“Why did you come to the agency? I told you I had a conference and you walked right in the middle of that.” Katsuki said angrily, running a hand through his hair while the other rested on his hip. “I told you I’m sorry. I just came by to drop your lunch-” you said, clenching your fists by your side. “Your lunch just caused a fucking embarassment (Y/N). Don’t you know how long I have dreamt of building this agency?” he asked in a dark voice. Hot tears threatened to spill from the corner of your eyes as you stood before the tall blonde man. You heard a sigh of disappointment from his mouth before he spoke again. “No answer huh… says alot about ‘my wife’. Go home. You’ve embarrassed me enough today.” Katsuki said, closing the glass door of the office behind him, leaving you in the empty hallway. With a turn of your heel, you made a beeline for the bathroom, closing the stall door behind you, you clutched your hair in despair and stared at the tiles beneath you while your back rested against the door, watching as each teardrop left its mark on the tile. “Did you hear about what happened in the conference room today?” one of the women whispered as she leaned over the sink, re-applying her lipstick. “Ahh… are we talking about our hot boss?” another asked with a smug tone. “More like his wife.” the woman responded. “Apparently, she wanted to drop off his lunch. I swear that woman just wants to keep that man to herself.” she said with the roll of her eyes, flicking the tap to wash her hands. “Are you jealous of Aya-chan?” the woman replied with a laugh. “I won’t deny that our boss is hot Miko. But why choose a nobody when you can have uravity?” she said, closing the tap. “Now that you mention it, Uravity is single and she seems to be a good person in the public’s eye. Our boss certainly deserves a woman of her title.” Miko said with a giggle. Clenching your jaw, you held back your sniffles, hurt by the words they exchanged with each other, not knowing you were there to hear them. You could feel your heart ache with each pulse and your hand shake with each breath, desperate to unlock the door and leave the suffocating stall. With a violent swing of the door, you faced yourself in the mirror, feeling pathetic at the sight of your puffy and bloodshot eyes staring back at you. ‘Maybe he does deserve better.’

You didn’t dare to step foot into Katsuki’s work space again.

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“It’s like I've run out of solutions for this marriage mom.” you said sobbing into the phone while playing with stray pieces of fuzz that came out of the blanket. “Have you tried talking to Katsuki?” asked her tender voice.

“Maybe we should consider counseling?” you said, tapping the wood of the dining table as the two of you sat for dinner. With the clattering of chopsticks against the lacquered surface, you watched from the corner of your eye as Katsuki clenched and unclenched his fist over the table. “(Y/N).” came his grave voice. Never had you thought your own name could be used against you as a warning before deciding to tread dangerous waters. “If it’s with us, we’ll handle it. I already have the agency and a PR on my ass about getting my “anger issues” under control. The last thing I fucking need is my wife crawling up my ass about how I’m supposed to be a good husband.” Katsuki said in a tone that left no room for discussion.

And as always, your only answer was “Okay.”

“Counseling is the last thing he needs right now mom. He gets enough of a burden from the agency as is along with the duty of being a good samaritan and hero. The thing of least concern should be me.” You said softly into the phone.

“It takes two to tango in a marriage (Y/N). You were the one who walked down the aisle that day. And waiting at the altar was Katsuki. You are one of his priorities and you should speak about it. There have been countless times where your father and I have had our arguments and fights. Brushing it under the carpet would do no good. Talking about it would help. I know Katsuki can be brash, but I know I saw something in him when you came home holding his hand. And if it weren’t for that, I wouldn’t even accept him as my son-in-law in the first place.”

You felt your chest heave with a hitched breath at the mention of “son-in-law”. Memories began to play like an old disc, rewinding back to the day you had taken Katsuki to your house for the first time. It was nerve racking to say the least, given the brash attitude he had which caused older adults to scrunch their nose in disgust, but you knew better than to judge from the surface.

“Are you nervous Katsuki?” you asked, as he maneuvered his car around the corner of your neighborhood. He said nothing, eyes trained on the house that was at the end of the street. Killing the engine as he pulled close, he rested his head against the wheel, back hunched over. Breaths hitting the leather of the steering wheel, you reached your hand behind his back, rubbing it in slow patterns. Nuzzling his forehead further into his hands which clutched the steering wheel tightly, he clenched his jaw with a heavy breath through his nose.

“Baby…” you cooed to him. With the turn of his head, you watched as his eyes were swimming in a sea of self doubt. With the couple of years you spent knowing Katsuki, you knew how to read him at the back of your hand. It was only when there was a potential obstacle in your relationship did he become like this.

“Talk to me.” you said softly, reaching a hand out to his that laid pale on the steering wheel from clenching too hard. With a sigh, he intertwined his hand in yours, letting it rest on his thigh.

“I’ve never done this before. ‘S my first time… Don’t wanna disappoint your parents with me.” he muttered, squeezing your hand lightly. Returning a squeeze back, you rubbed your thumb against the taut skin on the back of his palm.

“Katsuki.” you called out to him in the most gentle voice possible. With the turn of his head, he watched you, eyes shifting from the way your hair to your eyes to the bridge of your nose to the curve of your lips. “My parents will adore you. Sure, you have your rough edges, but… I know you. I’ve seen you work hard day and night, seen the way you’re passionate about doing what you do and keeping on that path you dreamt of as a kid… being you is not easy, Katsuki.”

His eyes widened at your words. Never would he have imagined you to be watching him so close and thinking of his dream as a kid to be a stupid one, taking a completely different path as an adult. Moving his head towards the steering wheel, he reached out his free hand to your face, bringing it close to his. Eyes darting towards your lips, he leaned in for a soft kiss. Unlike other times, where he was eager to show you how much he cared, you could feel how soft and tender it was. Pulling away, you kissed his upper lips before holding both sides of his face in determination. “Ready to go?” you asked with a wide smile. “Let’s fucking go.” he said with a grin just as bright.

“(Y/N)?” your mother’s voice came from the phone you held to your ear. Clearing your throat from the choke up you had from replaying the memory you answered. “I’m here.”

You heard a sigh before your mother continued to speak. “Have you tried talking to anyone about it?” your mother asked in an exasperated voice.

“Oh my god. That villain you caught last week was a rather notorious one. Isn’t that right Arata?” Momo said as she slid her arm around his, her free hand holding her drink. “Heard he broke into a bank last week and had the balls for even taking over thirty hostages too.” Arata replied in a monotone voice, guiding his hand towards Momo’s hip. “Dear! Such crude language!” she shrieked, giving a playful slap to the shoulder while he chuckled.

“Pinky! I heard you had taken down another villain this week who targeted a kindergarten?” one of the reporters asked Mina. “It is important to take care of the little ones who look up to us. The operation wasn’t an easy one as children are easy targets due to them being harmless, but luckily we pulled it through thanks to the cooperation of teachers as well as other heroes.” Mina said, turning towards the cameras that were a sea of flashing lights, eager to captivate the hero who was climbing up the ranks. “Red Riot! It’s good to have you back at the agency!” one of the stocky looking men said, extending his hand forward for the pro hero to shake. “Pleasure is all mine, sir.” Kirishima responded quietly, setting his glass of whiskey down to shake the said man’s hand. You could remember standing awkwardly at the table as pro heroes talked about the work they did. Hardly a conversation for a school teacher to have. While everyone talked about busted drug deals, cartels, lawsuits and cases, you realized that they were a part of a much bigger but different world. Yours seemed to be smaller which had your family, kids studying in school, parents who would attend your conferences to discuss their child’s progress. It was easy to adapt a conversation but it was never easy to maintain it. But yet you continued to understand incident after incident as Katsuki and you stood together, each with a drink in one hand, laughing when the moment was right and humming when someone would pause at their sentence.

“So… (Y/N) tell us what’s been going on with you?” Jirou said as she leaned over the bar table. Fidgeting with the glass in your hand, you spoke. “Nothing much really… been teaching the children at school about Romeo and Juliet.”

A round of awkward looks were exchanged. Eyebrows raised at the drink in each hand with a thought before taking a sip, not knowing how to respond or what to say. “Well… that was tragic.” Kaminari tried attempting to joke before being elbowed in the ribs by Kyoka who thought it was offensive. The pro hero world didn’t have time for Shakespeare. With an awkward smile you bit your inner cheek, making a silent rule that silence during parties like these was golden.

“(Y/N)?” Your mother asked once more, disturbing your train of thought. With a deep sigh through your nose, you gripped the phone tighter before answering.

“All my friends have their own families Mom. And most of Katsuki’s friends work in the same field as him. They went to UA together and most of them are pro heroes. It’s happened times before and it will happen times again where they can’t relate to what I’m talking about.”

“I’m sure there are people at school, colleagues that you work with?” your mother asked in surprise.

Moving to Tokyo had been a bad idea. It was away from Musutafu, and had a large and bustling crowd. Shizuoka had been quiet and peaceful whilst the new bulk of the Kanto region was a walking clock. Katsuki’s friends were a common sight to see in Tokyo as that was where the headquarters for pro hero agencies were. You hoped it would be the start of a new life, only to be proven wrong day after day. You tried seizing opportunities of meeting new neighbors, only to be ushered out just as quickly as you were done with greetings. Cubicles in your school office were just as quiet, given the fact that you were in a private one. Colleagues thought you were Dynamight’s trophy wife, hastening their footsteps along the hallway anytime they would run into you. The only person you could say you had a “girl time” with was Mina and that didn't happen often given that she was in the same line of work as Katsuki.

“I do talk to a friend from the agency sometimes…” you said, shifting your position deeper into the couch out of embarrassment.

“You don’t have any friends?” your mom asked in an accusatory manner. “It’s not like I don’t have any. When we moved from Musutafu, I left nearly everything behind including my social life!” you tried defending yourself on the phone.

“(Y/N). Look at the signs. You’ve not spoken to any of your friends, living in a completely new town, and not even found a person to have a social life with?” your mother reasoned.

“At least tell me that you go out… When was the last time you did?” Your mother asked in a grave voice. Your eyes wavered, thinking of an answer of when the last was that you went out.

“(Y/N)?” your mother taunted.

“... The hike with Katsuki.” you replied in a small voice.

“That was six months ago. So you haven’t gone out ever since you began packing your things, or moved there or when you were settled in.” your mother said.

“No.” came your reply.

“(Y/N). I know it’s difficult to abandon nearly everything and move to a new place. But… Why are you adapting to a routine Katsuki set for himself? You should go out, make mistakes, get lost someplace and find it beautiful. It won’t be long till you miss all that and actually need to take care of a child of your own, right?” your mother explained in the softest voice she could, trying not to scare you.

You could feel tears threatening to fall from the corner of your eye as reality dawned upon you. As time passed by, you hadn’t realized that you had lost pieces of yourself, all for the sake of making the man you love happy and content. Each day slowly chipping away what you were previously, leaving you with an empty shell of a woman who was too dependent on your husband. Was this one of the reasons why you thought Katsuki and you got along so well? Was there an individuality to you or were you just lost in the obsession of being your best for him and not for yourself? You began to shake as you wondered, ‘How long have I been living like this’, ‘Why didn’t I notice it earlier’. You felt air leave your lungs, your mind dragging you under water where waves swept you from beneath your feet, causing you to spiral into their deepest depths.

“(Y/N), I need you to breathe for me honey.” Your mother said calmly. “In a sequence now. Breathe in” you heard her inhale. “One, two, three, four… and breathe out.” she said, exhaling with a heavy breath. Sniffling you began to do what she did, inhaling and exhaling until you felt your heart return back to normal the feeling of waves receding into the ocean.

“Alright there we go. You’re doing great!” you other cheered as you gave her a watery laugh through the phone. “Before I go, remember, both Katsuki and you are in this matrimony together. Both of you share the same burden and responsibility both for your actions and for or against one another.” Your mother said in a soft tone. Rubbing the remaining of the tear tracks away from your eyes, you replied in a shaky voice. “Thanks Mom.”

“Don’t worry dear. Everything will be fine. It all works out towards the end… I have to go now, but I’ll call you soon okay?Love you.” she said with a hint of a smile in her voice. “Love you too.” you said before you heard the phone line go dead, ending the call.

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With a drop of his keys and a bang of the door behind with his foot, Dynamight had retired for the day from the agency. Walking across the room, he opened the fridge to grab a can of beer before promptly sitting down on the couch and turning on the television. Hearing the commotion, you made your way out of your shared room, luminated by the moonlight.

“Welcome home…” you muttered in a low voice. With a grunt, he moved to kick his feet up and place them on the coffee table.

“Um… Katsuki?” you called out, fingers digging into the soft fabric of the edge of the couch, far from the corner he sat in. He hummed in response, one hand busy switching channels of the television in front of him.

“Can we talk?” you asked in a timid voice. “Go ahead… I’m listening.” he responded, taking a sip from the can, the noise from the lit screen filling up the room. “Uh… could you turn the volume of the tv down? This is important.” you replied. Not bothering to respond as his eyes trailed from left right, reading the headlines, you sighed, moving around the couch. Shaking him by the shoulder, you spoke once more. “Please Katsuki, this is really important.”

“I said I was listening wasn’t I? God,it’s like I can’t catch a fucking break when I come home to you.” he said in a grave voice, pressing the mute button. “What?” your voice cracked as you spoke, feeling a pang in your chest at every venomous word he said. “Why can’t you understand that I’ve had a fucking long day and all I need is some good peace and quiet? Do you have to run your mouth every fucking time about something? If not about dropping shit on the floor, it’s about taking a vacation. When are you gonna learn that not everything is about you?!” Katsuki yelled. You could feel tears pooling at the waterline of your eyes; not from the feeling of sadness or grief or emptiness, but of rage and humiliation. With a shaky breath, you said, “I want us to go to counseling.”

“This again? I already said no.” Katsuki said firmly. Biting your tongue in defiance, you parted your lips. “Why not?” you asked as you felt tears streaming down your cheeks. “I am not going for a check on our marriage. It’s been going great so far and I don’t need shit to hit the fan for both of us with this.” Katsuki reasoned, waving his back and forth between you and him.

“You think this marriage is fine Katsuki?” you asked bringing your wrist to wipe away at the tears collected on your cheeks and under your chin. Acknowledging your question with a glare, he turned away from you. “I don’t have time for shit like this.” he said arrogantly, crushing the can in his palm. “When do you even have time for anything anymore? It’s always about work, work, work. Do you know how much I sacrificed for you?!” you yelled. “You don’t even fucking care about anything. Do you ask me how my day was? Do you ask me if I’m eating well or sleeping well? Do you even bother to remember me by when we live in the same fucking house?!” you continued, walking towards him. “Day after day after day” you said, jabbing a pointed finger towards his chest, “I have done nothing but take care of your best interests. Not only have you humiliated me as a person, you don’t even acknowledge me as an equal. If I can respect you as a wife, why won’t you recognize my wishes and effort as a husband, Katsuki?!” you said, fury threatening to bubble to the surface.

“Every fucking time I do something for you, all you do is whine and complain about it. Fuck, I don’t even know what is wrong with me and you’re not even there to talk to about it. Is that what this marriage is?!” you cried as you shoved him back. “Tell me.” you shoved him. “Tell me.” you shoved him thrice. “JUST FUCKING TELL ME ALREADY, KATSUKI !!!” you yelled at the top of your voice, causing him to take several steps back. With nothing to say back, you felt your shoulder heave up and down from the intensity. Your ears felt like they were on fire. You watched as Katsuki stood still, breathing hard from the hits that you gave him.

“That’s what I thought.” you muttered, before going to your bedroom and packing a duffel bag. Grabbing essentials, you changed into casual clothes, grabbing your purse from the hook. With heavy footsteps across the floor, you opened the door, letting moonlight flood into the living room.

“Where are you going?” Katsuki asked from the corner of the room. He hadn’t moved from the spot of the argument followed by the outburst. “Just taking a couple of days off… maybe more.” you said, lifting a foot to step out of the door. “It’s one in the morning (Y/N). Just get the fuck back in.” Katsuki said with the wave of his arm. “I can’t go on without answers Katsuki. It’s alright for one of us to not be okay with the other once in a while… but it’s to a point where we haven’t talked to each other about it and fixed it along with moving forward. But now? It’s in a state where you’re doing fine and I’m taking the collateral damage. I haven’t asked you the reason for it as my trust and love for you gets the better of me, but how long can I take it till I break?” you said with a sad smile.

“Just please (Y/N). Let’s go back to bed and we’ll discuss this in the morning.” Katsuki tired once more, daring to step closer to you. Dropping your bag to the floor, you almost gave in.

Almost.

But your mind wouldn’t let you, choosing to let you relive those memories where he would shout, yell, scream and ignore you. Hugging his torso, you pulled him close. “I’m at my limit Katsuki and I know you. Steel to the bone and you won’t change. Please, just let me have my way. For once. I want to salvage this marriage as much as you do, but I lost myself in it. And I need that part of me back or this won’t last very long.” you said in a low voice. Katsuki could hear his shaky breath, knowing that heart of hearts, he was breaking. Circling his arms around you, he hugged you back.

“You promise to be back?” he asked in a hopeful voice with glassy eyes, caressing the skin of your cheek.

“Don’t know how long, but distance would make the heart grow fonder of you.” you chuckled, letting a few tears slip.

“Alright. Do you want me to drop you?” Katsuki asked, grabbing the keys. Placing a gentle palm over his strong forearm, you pushed it down with a silent no.

“It’s best if I do it alone.” you said, grabbing the keys from the bowl instead. Kissing him goodbye on the cheek, you walked out the door, not daring to look back, knowing that you would stay.

Revving up the engine of the car, you pulled out from the driveway, while Katsuki watched you silently from the window, hiding his figure silently behind the curtain. Driving along the dark roads of the city that never slept, you thought about just how far you were willing to break yourself for the man you love.

Enough to still love him through each crack.

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Writing about a child rapist did not make Vladimir Nabokov a child rapist.

Writing about an authoritarian theocracy did not make Margaret Atwood an authoritarian theocrat.

Writing about adultery did not make Leo Tolstoy an adulterer.

Writing about a ghost did not make Toni Morrison a ghost.

Writing about a murderer did not make Fyodor Dostoevsky a murderer.

Writing about a teenage addict did not make Isabel Allende a teenage addict.

Writing about dragons and ice zombies did not make George R.R. Martin either of those things.

Writing about rich heiresses, socially awkward bachelors, and cougar widows did not make Jane Austen any of those things.

Writing about people who can control earthquakes did not make N.K. Jemisin able to control earthquakes.

Writing about your favorite characters and/or ships in situations that you choose does not make you a bad person.

It’s a shame that in this day and age these things need to be said.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Just thinking about Pro-Hero Red Riot dragging Dynamight along to one of his monthly visits to a local childrens hospital where he turns up in full hero gear to visit the sick children and Bakugou thinks it’s gonna be an absolute waste of time until he sees the way these childrens faces light up at the sight of the two hulking Pro-Heroes coming into the ward.

After the first visit Bakugou finds himself coming back regularly, often with Dynamight merch and toys (some which aren’t even on general sale yet) just to gift it to these children and to watch their faces light up again.

And his PR team keep trying to get him to do interviews, and the paps swarm the outside of the building trying to get the scoop but he refuses to talk to anyone about it. He’s not doing it for the publicity or the rankings, he’s doing it because he wants to. And the only pictures that surface are ones the parents have taken of their children or ones you post of him with them— the softest expression on his face as he gives the kids high fives or crouches down to their level to talk to them face to face. Gauntlet-arms resting on his thighs as he listens to them talk animatedly about heroes and their favourites— one little girl claiming her absolute favourite hero is Deku. And you hear Bakugou scoff and go “Yeah, he’s alright.” But the following week Pro-Hero Deku turns up to meet the girl, claiming that his friend Dynamight sent him.

tomorrow the russian government is gonna add a few new laws in the criminal code:

1) if you’re posting a fake (fake is literally anything that doesn’t say the offical state information) - it’s a crime = you can go to jail

2) if you’re vocally against the war - it’s a crime = you can go to jail

3) if you’re saying the sanctions are good/are justified - it’s a crime = you can go to jail.

today, some of our opposition media sources were blocked for spreading information that was different from the official media.

today facebook and twitter were blocked in russia, god knows what will happen in the morning. maybe they’ll cut the internet for all I know.

please, spread the word. if some of your russian friends are suddenly disappear from the social media - our government is doing everything for us to rely only on the lies they’re spreading.

i don’t know if they’re checking this site, but I think I can go to jail for this post.

white people in ukraine are actively pulling poc (asians, africans, middle easterners) off of escape transportation to make room for more white people. that needs to be recognized as a war crime and i’m so, deeply serious.

reblog this to give whoever u rb'd this from a lil smiley face sticker on their cheek