#THE TRAGEDY OF CIVILIAN X HERO RELATIONSHIPS

[introspectivememories]

HE DOESN'T WANT TO LEAVE ME. I DON'T WANT HIM TO LEAVE ME, EITHER. BUT I KNOW HE'S GOT TO GO.

[creative-crybaby]

Phantom Limbs

PAIRING: Takami Keigo (Hawks) x fem!reader

GENRE: angst | comfort | smut (18+)

Minors DNI

TAGS + WARNINGS: dry humping, nipple play, spit play, light manhandling, hair pulling, creampie, overstimulation, marking (scratches)

Let me know if I missed anything.

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

SUMMARY: Having lost his wings, there's only so much Takami can do to help other heroes and save innocent civilians. And with him having even less time on his hands, you do whatever you can to take care of him.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Posting on my birthday is like a little gift from me to me :)

© creative-crybaby, do not repost or modify

You wait by the windows out of habit. 

The book in your hand has remained open on the same page for the past fifteen minutes, your eyes reading the words, but your brain too distracted to process them. Your focus is more on the corners of your peripheral vision, hoping to catch something, anything outside. All that’s offered in the great outdoors is grey skies and an even greyer atmosphere. Though, you suppose you should know better by now. 

Because, as of late, he’s been entering your shared home through the front door. 

The sound of the jiggling knob has you up from your seat in a second; you slam your book shut and toss it onto the coffee table (never mind saving your page). You’re at the entrance when the door fully opens, anxiously shifting your weight from one foot to the other. 

Takami’s eyes widen ever so slightly at your rushed movements, but he then exhales as he kicks off his boots. 

“Honey, I’m home,” the Pro Hero quips, though his tone and smile lack his usual energy. You greet him back while helping him remove his jacket, the material cold and damp in your hands. You get a better look at him once you turn back to him. With the harsh weather and being outside for who knows how long, it’s only natural for him to deal with those conditions’ blunt force. Soaked to the bone, he shivers, though you can tell he’s trying to stop his movements. His blonde hair is now a dark gold from the rain, stray strands sticking to his forehead. It’s a miracle his skin isn’t blue, but he’s definitely a few shades too pale. And his eyes—they haven’t known rest even before the Paranormal Liberation War, but dealing with the aftermaths of such a tragedy takes its toll even on the strongest of heroes. 

You gently rest your hand on his cheek, your thumb lovingly caressing the new scar on his skin. “What are you doing out there?”

Takami sighs, relaxing in your hold before shifting his head to peck your palm. “Oh, the usual.”

You’d press for more if the look he gave you weren’t one of exhaustion, almost pleading. Instead, you rake the fingers of your free hand through his hair, careful not to tug on any knots. 

“How about a shower?” you hum. “I’ll even help you out.”

The blonde mumbles something in agreement, seemingly too low on energy for any more words, before following you to the bathroom. 

Several months back in your relationship, you’d struggle to have him in your home, what with his gigantic wings. He’d rarely knock over your belongings due to his cautiousness, but it didn’t change that your apartment wasn’t Wing-Hero-friendly. 

That was the least of your problems when he decided to stay over. Your bed wasn’t big enough for the two of you, and you’d wake up in the morning to find his wings positioned uncomfortably. Even when Hawks would dismiss your concern, you weren’t fooled. But going from queen-sized to king-sized wasn’t an issue compared to your bathroom. Even sharing the space with a wingless person was bound to have you two bump into each other, and yet, your boyfriend made himself at home. 

With your apartment now nothing more than a pile of rubble, all those concerns seem foolish, almost cruel, as you actually went out of your way to get a larger bed for him. 

What’s crueller is that a smaller space would no longer be an issue now that his wings are gone. 

You can’t help but think about all of this bitterly every time you two enter the shower. The one in Takami’s home is far bigger, made to accommodate his wings, but it’s all just empty space. He settles on the shower stool with a heavy exhale, and you stand behind him to wash his hair, letting the warm water wash away whatever pessimistic thoughts crawl back to taunt you. At least you can take comfort in seeing the Pro Hero visibly relax under your touch, tilting his head back as your fingers thoroughly massage his scalp. 

You’re extra careful when washing his body. The scar on his back makes you pause before resuming your task, and while the blonde notices your hesitance, he doesn’t comment. It’s not the only mark on his body, but it’s certainly the largest. Maybe one day, you’ll come to pepper the area with kisses as you would with all the other scars that litter his body. For now, knowing how it ended up on him hits you with the anxieties of “what if.”

Having kept your hair up and out of the way, you cover yourself in a towel before assisting your boyfriend out of the shower. He wraps a towel around his hips and sighs a silent thank you before you take his hand and lead him to your bedroom. It’s all either of you say for a while, even while you dry his hair with him settled in front of you, between your thighs and facing away. 

The hot water flushes his skin, a sight that helps you relax as you run a towel through his locks. You let it rest around his neck once you’re done, leaning forward to wrap your arms around his torso. 

“Want me to make you something to eat?” you ask quietly. “You must be starving.”

“I’m okay,” he hums. Your fingers skate across the blonde’s abdomen, drawing random shapes and patterns and making him shiver. “I just want to stay like this for a bit longer.”

You shift your head to rest your chin on his shoulder, the fluffy material of the towel tickling your skin. “Then let me get you some clothes so you don’t catch a cold.”

The Pro Hero gently removes himself from your embrace, turning to face you. Your wrists remain in his grasp, and he brings them to his lips to kiss both of your palms. 

“That won’t be necessary,” he mumbles against your skin, eyes fluttering closed. “Stay.”

His voice has a light rasp, and you’re sure you catch the subtle pleading in his tone. You sigh, sliding your hands to caress his face. Takami’s eyes open again, golden irises peering up at you as his brows furrow lightly. There’s a gentle tug to his hold, and you shift closer to him. 

“So much for all that time to kill,” you try to quip, though you don’t find your tone convincing. For good measure, you trace his jaw with featherlight kisses. “Even with the Safety Commission out of the way, you can’t catch a break.”

He chuckles airily. “It was never going to be all that simple, dove. You and I both know that.”

You pout at his words. The pull of his grasp reappears, and you’re brought closer to your boyfriend until you’re almost sitting on his lap. One of his hands slides to your waist, encouraging you to do so. You obey, loosely wrapping your arms around his neck. Back when he had his wings, your fingertips would graze their base, earning you breathy moans from him. With them now gone, you settle for lightly scratching at his undercut.

“Must be exhausted with everything going on,” you whisper, the tip of your nose gently grazing against his. 

“Coming home to you makes it all worth it,” Takami breathes before closing the gap. You both exhale into the kiss as you pull each other closer. Even with a towel in the way, he runs his hands up and down your torso, opting to feel you as much as possible. Once you’ve removed yourself from the embrace, he still attaches his lips to any exposed skin he can find. 

“Keigo,” you whimper, trying to hold still as he nibbles on your neck. “Are you sure? You need rest.”

You feel the Pro Hero shake his head without pausing the assault on the skin. “I need you.”

Even before destruction fell upon the country, you’ve worried for Takami’s safety. With his wings, he could reach the clouds; any higher could take the oxygen out of his lungs. He’s capable, but also human: even the overly glorified ones have limits. And as much as you want him to be well, you miss him just as much. 

You unlatch him from you without tugging too hard, and you’re met with glossy eyes and quivering lips. That desperation has been stuck in his tone and gaze since he returned home. Needing you close in any physical manner that’s given to him, his focus staying on you a little longer than what one may consider necessary. You remember when you’d beg him to stay in bed a bit longer before he went on patrol, putting on your best pout to convince him. 

But now he's the one begging, pleading for your touch. And with the subtle poking of your thigh, you’re given more than enough convincing. Your lips return to mesh with his as you attempt to remove your towel with what little wiggle room you have. Takami takes this opportunity to let his hands roam your bare skin, tracing your curves and groping at any fat he can find while leaving a trail of goosebumps. The towel around his neck slides off, and you’d remove the last one if you could, but for now, you make the most of the situation by grinding into his lap, his bulge rubbing against your clit deliciously. 

He’s restless; you noticed the signs before you found yourself on top of him. The Pro Hero moans into your mouth, his hands quick to grip your hips to drag them across his own. He pushes for a deeper kiss, if even possible, letting his tongue taste yours. You’re in desperate need of oxygen, and you’re sure he’s in the same state. When you pull away, he leans in to catch your lips once more.

“Let me take over,” you pant, resting your forehead against his. “Let me make you feel good.”

“No,” Takami groans lowly, eyes lidded and face flushed. “Need this. Need to do this for you.” He slowly flips you both from your current position so you lay on the mattress caged below his arms and legs. With a shadow looming over his handsome features, his eyes glow gold. “It’s selfish of me, I know, but I’ll take good care of you, too. Show you how much you mean to me.”

His words make your eyes soften, your arms wrapping around his neck again and pulling him close. Neither of your gazes leaves each other, not even as the towel ever so slowly loosens from his hips and cascades off his body. With your lips mere centimetres away, you’d have to give him credit for showing restraint thus far.  

“You can never be selfish when you deserve the world,” you say before closing the distance. A growl escapes his throat; from your words or your taste, you aren’t sure, and you don’t care to figure it out. Not when he pulls away to trail messy open-mouthed kisses down your neck, stopping at your collarbone before latching on to one of your nipples. Your back arches into his touch, and his other hand tweaks at your neglected bud. 

From your peripheral vision, you catch his shoulder blades twitch. You’d remember how his wings would ruffle when you two would make love, showing just as much vulnerability as the rest of him. The base of his crimson limbs was especially sensitive, and he’d let out the most beautiful sounds whenever they’d meet your touch. With them gone, the subtle movement is mere muscle memory. But when they jerk again once your fingers tug his somewhat-damp locks, you know better than to dismiss his body’s reactions.

Takami unlatches from your nipple to press his face between your breasts, inhaling deeply while his hand continues its treatment on the other bud. The sudden halt in his ministrations has you peering down at him, face warm while showing your confusion. 

Still pressed against your chest, his gaze meets yours, eyes hooded and ravenous. “I can’t wait any longer.”

You exhale, trying your best to prevent your breathing from stammering. “Then don’t.”

Those two words were more than enough for the blonde, quickly propping himself up before pulling you closer to his body by your legs. The sudden shift makes you yelp, but Takami doesn’t say anything as he pumps his cock, using his precum as lube. His touches had you already dripping, and watching him stroke himself as he watches you with desperation and lust in his eyes only adds to the mess between your thighs. 

Normally, he’d take his time with you. The Pro Hero, known for his speed when defeating villains, would throw all that out the window when you were in the picture, wanting to enjoy every second he has with you. This also applies to love-making, opting to prep you by treasuring your body and pleasure before the main event. 

But with how he’s currently panting as he aims his cock at your entrance, his face and neck flushed, you’re more than content to indulge in his neediness. 

His attempt at restraint is apparent as he takes his time sliding in. The tip makes you whine, and the blonde’s brows crease as he slowly adds another inch. His hold, now on your hips, is bruising, even as his thumbs would caress your skin. It makes you hiss, reaching up and making grabbing motions for him. Takami obeys, dropping to bury his head in the junction of your neck and inhaling your scent. A mistake: one where the consequences earn you a groan and the rest of his cock slammed inside your soaked pussy. 

“Keigo!” you cry, pulling him closer. 

Curses tumble from his lips. “‘M sorry, dove. I—oh, God…”

If being stuffed full without warning didn’t make you so delirious, you’d swear you heard him whimper. His calloused hands wander your body while his lips sprinkle kisses onto your shoulder: an apology, one you drunkenly accept as you try to adjust to the intrusion. A snug fit—it makes you wrap your legs around his hips. Your actions have the Pro Hero shifting to face you. He resembles a lost puppy, with his slightly-parted lips and wide eyes beneath furrowed brows of concern. You almost coo. 

“Go ahead,” you whisper, fingers dancing across his undercut. “Use me.”

The expression he gives you before he reels his hips back is pleading and one of gratitude. You barely register it before he slams back into you and knocks the air out of your lungs. 

Takami finds his pace in no time, pounding against you that the sound of skin slapping skin overpowers both of your heavy breathing. Every thrust has you squeezing around his shaft, and he rests his forehead against yours. 

Everything is burning—the room, your mangled bodies, his breath fanning against your cheek. You’re boiling, your brain melting into a puddle of nothingness as your hands fly to his back, your nails planting into his shoulder blades. Your boyfriend’s eyes screw shut, a sharp grunt escaping him. You want to apologize; you should apologize, but you don’t realize your actions, and with his sudden angle shift, words fail you with every probe at your sweet spot. All you can give him is pathetic moans through a slack jaw. 

His lips meet your swollen ones: you give him plenty.

“Keigo,” you manage to slur against his mouth. Takami bites your bottom lip, one of his hands reaching between your bodies to messily rub your puffy clit. You wail, and he pulls away from the assault on your lips. 

“Open,” he heaves. Surprisingly, you not only understand but comply, letting your mouth fall open once more for his hungry gaze. Through glossy eyes, you barely see him puckering his lips and letting a blob of spit fall into your awaiting tongue. You squeak when it lands before you swallow the tiny puddle. His thrusts don’t falter throughout all of this, and his lewd act of possessiveness tips you over the edge, your weeping pussy creaming around his dick and leaving a gooey ring at its base. A sight you’d love to witness if your vision wasn’t currently white. 

But Takami doesn’t stop. Not while you ride through your orgasm, not once you come down from it, and certainly not when you begin to cry from the overstimulation. 

“Keigo!” you squeal, tightening your hold on his back. “Too much! ‘S too much!”

His speed has yet to falter, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Not that your lover is any better, what with his vision gone hazy and grip tightening. 

“Almost there, baby.” You can feel his warm breath fanning your face from his panting. “Just lemme—” His thrusts grow sloppier, jackhammering into your cunt like his life depends on it, all while whimpering “pleasepleasepleaseplease” on a loop. A particularly rough thrust has you wailing and your nails clawing down his back. Takami lets out a drawn-out groan. “Sh-Shit—”

The tiniest push and he’s hurtled over you, eyes screwed shut and jaw slack as his hips stutter. His face is flushed, close to rivalling the colour of his wings, and strands of his dishevelled hair clings to his forehead with sweat. Even with an unfocused gaze and a foggy brain, you can tell he’s as ethereal as ever as he fills you with hot ropes of cum. 

You feel his muscles relax under your hold, and the Pro Hero exhales deeply before dropping on top of you. The sudden weight, while at first crushing, eventually feels like a weighted blanket, and you wrap your arms around your lover once more. 

It isn’t until both your breathings are regulated do you speak, your words somewhat muffled against his skin. “You okay, pretty bird?”

Takami sighs, planting a kiss on your temple before pulling out. You shiver at the feeling of his cum leaking out; he notices, opting to caress your sides to calm you down. He can only offer a hum in confirmation at your question, the vibrations buzzing off his body and tickling yours.

When he gets off you, he also dismounts the bed, making his way to the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. It isn’t until he twists his body to have his back face it do you catch the red scratch marks on his shoulder blades, vibrant and right on top of his most recent battle scar. You gasp.

“I’m so sorry, Kei,” guilt is evident in your voice as you sit up on the bed, hugging the sheets. “I should have been more careful. Let me go get—”

A soft, airy chuckle interrupts your worrying. The blonde traces one of your marks, shifting his shoulder blades before fully facing you. 

“It’s like they never left,” he rasps, lips twitching to form a sad smile. “Too bad I won’t be able to fly with them.”

Your brows knit together as you frown at his words, your eyes growing warm as they threaten to rain down tears. Your lover’s expression doesn’t budge as he approaches you, climbing the bed and finding his spot next to yours. He laughs dryly to himself, and it only dies down once you place your hand on his.

“Please, talk to me,” you whisper, leaning your head on his shoulder.

What remains of his front is cut off by a hiccup. It isn’t until you feel his body tremble do you peer at him to find streams of tears cascading down his rosy cheeks. 

“Sometimes it feels like they’re still there,” he sobs silently, pausing to collect himself. You’re quick to pull him into your embrace, and he melts completely. “Even with the Commission out of the way, I still feel trapped.” He pulls back to look at you with pleading eyes. “I thought wings were a symbol of freedom. What happened?”

Hawks is gone, and before you is Keigo. A Pro Hero so young and forced onto such a high pedestal that one wrong step is a heavy drop. Without his wings, only you are there to catch him. 

And with all the strength you can muster, you do so, carrying his weight in your arms as he falls apart, trembling and crying and heaving so hard you fear he’ll slip between your fingers into a pile of nothingness. For as long as you’ve known him, Takami has only ever born his soul to you like this fewer times than you can count on one hand. If he could save the lives of countless civilians (including your own), you figure that being his safety net is the least you can do. 

A weak snicker escapes his lips, and you pull back to face him.

“Tokoyami’s been calling a bunch these past several days,” he drawls, his thumb mindlessly caressing your arm while staring past your shoulder. “Never answered him back, not even once. I should at least call the kid.”

Your boyfriend’s about to get up before you try to hold him in his spot without using too much force (not that you’d be able to stop him). His questioning gaze trails to you, and no matter how much you want to coddle him until he wants you gone, you keep your head up.

“Not now, honey,” You rest your forehead against his. “One step at a time. You can apologize tomorrow. I’m sure he’ll understand. He’s a smart kid.”

He sniffles, and you wipe a stray tear from his cheek. “You’re probably right.”

His breathing appears even, and the crying seems to have subsided, even if just for now. You offer a small smile.

“How about a meal?” you inquire, nudging your nose against his. “Whatever you want.”

The Pro Hero hums, tiredly copying your expression. “Can we just stay like this? Just for a bit longer?”

Your smile grows wider ever so slightly as you fall back onto the mattress, your hold on your lover bringing him down with you and having him land on your chest. Your gaze is soft when you peer down, and your fingers are back in his hair to comb out the mess you made. He sighs into your skin, burying himself there as his eyes flutter shut. 

“We can stay like this as long as you want.” And you mean it. Even once his wings return, even once the people grow to trust him again, and even once heroes have time to kill. You would stay with him right here forever. 

© creative-crybaby, do not repost or modify

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

Made the mistake of watching Multiverse of Madness because it was free on Disney Plus (which I already pay for for things like the Simpsons, Muppet movies, Falcon and the Winter Soldier, The Owl House, etc.).

I just......really don’t like MCU Doctor Strange.  Why did they have to make him Wizard Tony Stark?  I mean, I get it, they are both brilliant, arrogant older men with facial hair who sometimes make bad decisions.  But I can’t stand the snarky quips in the Strange movies.  It worked in the Iron Man movies, because the movies had enough heart that I could still take them seriously (I realize mileage will vary about that), and Robert Downy Jr. brought charisma to the role, and they came out before the MCU was filled with a dozen movies about snarky, quippy super-heroes, so it felt kind of fresh and exciting way back when.

Dr. Strange is already facing an uphill battle for me to like him, because the first movie embraces the trope of “White man studies skill for a brief period of time and quickly surpasses people who have been studying their entire lives.”  But the “jokes” in both movies mostly fall flat, and make it difficult for me to like or care about Strange as a character.  If he can’t take this magic stuff seriously, why should I?  It gets worse in Multiverse, I really don’t need to see Strange going, “Illuma-whati?” or making fun of Black Bolt’s name.  It’s not even especially funny.  It’s okay for the character to be serious, and the movie to be serious, it was already leaning towards horror anyway. 

I’d rather watch a movie about Mordo, Wong, and Madisynn, the girl in She-Hulk who gets teleported into a demon dimension, stumbles her way into Kamar-Taj, and now hangs out with Wong watching The Sopranos.  America can join, too, maybe they’ll give her a personality and not just treat her like a plot device, as the movie did. 

And, of course, there’s the big issue of Wanda.  I really dislike MCU Wanda for various reasons, the main one being the white-washing and erasure of her heritage, but also just her portrayal in general.

I think the biggest problem is that the writers want to visit the big, “exciting” Wanda stories like Avengers Disassembled and House of M and the imaginary kids (even though those stories are controversial among Wanda fans, and some felt they were basically character assassination), but there isn’t nearly enough leading up to it.  It’s like the Dark Phoenix story for Jean - it always falls flat because there’s not enough time in a movie to tell the story properly.  TAS did a good job because Phoenix/Dark Phoenix was a saga that lasted several episodes.

Comics Wanda spent decades being an Avenger, and an unambiguous hero.  So it was easier for her to be redeemed after things like House of M/Decimation, and even then writers had to partially retcon it, and write multiple “redemption stories” like AvX (where she helps Hope repopulate mutants via Phoenix) and Trial of Magneto (and some X-Fans still hate her).  MCU Wanda doesn’t have that.  She starts out working with Hydra, attacking the Avengers, unleashing the Hulk on innocent civilians, and working with a genocidal robot because she’s mad at Tony Stark, as opposed to comics Wanda reluctantly helping the Brotherhood because Magneto saved her life and they owe him a debt.  They keep piling tragedies onto MCU Wanda, like losing Pietro and Vision, without developing the relationships enough for us to really care.  And she barely has time to be a hero (which she genuinely was at the end of AoU, and Infinity War/Endgame) before they had her go dark again. 

This is always an issue in the movies when they adapt comic book stories.  With limited time, they can’t develop characters or relationships the way they do in the comics, and they have to do their best to compress everything.  In some movies, it can work.  Then, you get movies like Civil War, where the Avengers breaking up barely means anything because they didn’t work together very long and half of them aren’t even really friends.  I dunno, I think some big comics stories just shouldn’t be tackled in the movies because they can’t be done well.

Anyway, comics Wanda, I’m so sorry, sweetie, I’m so sorry the MCU would write/cast you like that.

[cafedanslanuit]

Third time’s the charm || Hawks x Reader

summary; “His amber eyes stayed open the whole time, a tint of sadness in them I was too afraid to ask about. I wish I hadn’t been such a coward. I wish I had squeezed his hand right back.“

notes; manga spoilers up to 271. i decided to switch it up a little and write a reader story in first person. hope you like that <3

I should have known something was going on. Keigo wasn’t the type that would blurt out his feelings; he had years of training to feign who he was to other people. Why had he suddenly been so adamant in letting me know what he thought of me? He was the most respected, likable, and loved hero, even if he wasn’t the number one. He had no obligation in showing his true self and that was something I had accepted a long time ago. So, when in less than twelve hours he told me he loved me no less than two times, I should have been alerted. The mere fact he was talking about feelings should have been my first sign. Fuck, it should have been my only sign.

He had texted me saying he would be coming over in an hour or so. I tried to make myself look more alluring as I waited for him. Even if we had agreed we weren’t a couple but just a couple of friends who cared for each other, there was no harm in fixing my hair and putting on some lipstick if I could see him smile when I opened the door.

But he didn’t smile. Keigo had a stern look when he walked inside my apartment. I offered him some macaroni leftovers and he started pacing around the living room, taking his time every time he found one of my framed pictures. They had been there for years now, so his interest seemed a little sudden to me. The sound of the microwave going off startled him, but he still turned around and met me in the kitchen, where I was pouring a glass of wine for him.

“Are you okay?” I asked. Keigo nodded and began eating the macaroni. I poured myself a glass of wine as well and sat opposite him on the kitchen table. Every question I dared to ask was professionally dodged, making me wonder why he had even bothered to come by. I knew he couldn’t tell me any details about the hero missions he was involved in, but he knew I liked to listen to him when he told me about anecdotes that had happened during patrols.

“How’s the hospital?” he asked, his eyes never leaving the food. I told him about a couple of patients I had seen that morning and, even if he nodded along with my words, I could tell he wasn’t really listening. I let out a long sigh and put my hand on top of his left hand. He finally looked up, making me notice the bags under his eyes looked darker than usual.

“Keigo, what’s wrong?”

The man paused for a moment, his lips parting for a second before they closed again. He left the fork on the plate and delicately patted his mouth with the napkin I had left on the table. Keigo pulled away with his chair and patted his thighs. Accepting his invitation, I walked to him and sat on his lap, my arms circling around his neck. He kissed my shoulder as he hugged my waist, holding me even closer to him. I figured he couldn’t really share details about what had happened that day. I thought I was doing the right thing by giving him space and respecting his work as a hero. I should have insisted. I should have asked him again. I shouldn’t have ended the conversation there.

We made love that night. And it wasn’t a euphemism. We had been fucking around for more than a year, but that night felt different. There were not dominant positions, no hair pulling, no marks on his skin or mine, like there usually were. He lay between my thighs, his right hand making sure my left leg was hooked around his waist. For the first time, he kept his eyes locked in mine. Not used to that, I tried pulling him in for a kiss, but he caught my hand and set it on the bed near my head, his hand resting on top of it. As his thrusts became faster, I felt how he intertwined his fingers with mine. His amber eyes stayed open the whole time, a tint of sadness in them I was too afraid to ask about. I wish I hadn’t been such a coward. I wish I had squeezed his hand right back.

That night was also the first time we came together. Neither of us was planning on it, but when I was coming down from my high, I felt him twitching inside of me, making me realize he had just come as well. Keigo buried his face on the crook of my neck and whimpered, his lips grazing my skin.

“I love you” he panted, his voice broken. I stayed in silence, waiting for a punchline that never came. I furrowed his eyebrows, asking myself if I had heard correctly. Was his confession a product of the heat of the moment? Was he already regretting saying that out loud? Most importantly, did I love him back? I hadn’t dared to ask myself that question out of fear of it being true. If I was in love with Takami Keigo, the man with whom I agreed to a friendship with benefits, I would probably lose him for good. He had been very clear about how dangerous his work was and how he couldn’t have any relationships that could endanger the other person and also be used against him.

All the feelings I had stored in the highest and most unreachable part of my mind had fallen down and I didn’t know what to do with them. I didn’t even know if I should do something with them. I had always known our relationship was more than just sex. There were times when he would come over and we would just order food, watch a movie and fall asleep on top of each other. We deeply cared for one another, or at least I felt we did. I had calmed him down from nightmares he wouldn’t talk about, but just silently cry on my chest and he would listen whenever stress from the hospital and exhaustion took their toll and broke me into a mess of tears. Even then, I had never dared to revisit the feelings I had pushed away the day he proposed we took our friendship to the next level. But now, they were all falling down on me and they had apparently grown stronger as I had ignored them over the last year.

I must have tensed up without realizing because Keigo squeezed my hand gently and chuckled against my skin.

“We’ll talk in the morning,” he said and I nodded underneath him. We fell asleep shortly after that, with him still buried inside me, his wings covering both our bodies from the cold.

The next morning, I was turning the coffee maker off when Keigo emerged from the bedroom, already dressed up. I greeted him with a smile and he shot a playful remark back, even if his aura still felt a little off. His messy hair made me remember how young he really was, in spite of all the weight he constantly had on his shoulders. He sat on the kitchen table and ruffled his hair, letting out a yawn. I poured myself a cup of coffee and then leaned on the counter, looking at him.

“So, about last night…” I started, nervously looking at the cup between my hands. Keigo laughed, the tone of his voice feeling much more homely than ever.

“Are you breaking up with me?” he asked, a mischievous smile on his lips. I shook my head.

“No, no, that’s not it. I just… I’m sorry about what happened. I was surprised and didn’t know what to say. But… I wish we could talk about that now”.

“I’d like that, dove,” he said, crooking his head to the side. “But I gotta leave in ten”.

“You’re not staying for breakfast?”

“Can’t do. Duty calls” Keigo shrugged, stretching his arms upwards and successfully cracking his joints.

“So… tonight, maybe?” I insisted. He looked at me, that sad smile once again on his face.

Keigo stood up and walked towards me. He grabbed the cup I was holding and left it aside. His expression had gone back to the one he had the night before, a million words trapped inside his mind with no way out. 

“Okay” he breathed out. “I’ll see you tonight”. Keigo bit his bottom lip and held my head between his hands, his thumbs resting on my cheeks. He took a deep breath and pressed his forehead against mine, his eyes tightly shut.

“Keigo, what…?”

“I love you”

This time, I was way more confident about my answer. I couldn’t even repress the smile that crept on my lips. Somehow, his words had caused an even stronger reaction in me than the last time. I let out a breathy laugh, my arms finding their way around his torso. I opened my mouth, but before I could say anything, he put two fingers over it, silencing me.

“Tonight,” Keigo said, his eyes looking straight into mine. “I’ll bring dinner and we’ll talk, okay?”

I let out a heavy sigh and reluctantly nodded. “Fine,” I said, taking his hand off my mouth. Keigo flashed one of his playful smiles.

“They say third time’s the charm, dove,” he cheekily grinned, winking at me. I rolled my eyes and let him go.

As I think of him now, I can still see Keigo closing the door behind him. I should have noticed he was wearing one of his TV smiles. I should have stopped him, kissed him, hit him, I don’t know. I shouldn’t have let him go without saying I loved him back.

That night never came. That night was filled with doctors barking orders, nurses running around, everybody trying to save as many heroes as they could. The war had been the greatest tragedy the hospital I worked for had ever seen. Every gurney in the hospital was being used by injured heroes and civilians, the smell of death present each time I turned the corner.

When the hospital called me, I was already on my way. I had just put the chicken in the oven when I grabbed my phone and decided to go through my feed. I didn’t need to scroll far to see news reports about the war that was happening between villains and a great number of heroes. They said they were The Liberation Army, but I hadn’t heard about them before. I quickly turned the TV on, just in time to see Endeavor lying on the ground as a villain raised his fist on top of him. There was no news on Hero Number Two Hawks. I saw heroes that looked old enough to still be in school fighting and I couldn’t help but think of Keigo and his lost childhood due to his hero training. I quickly turned the oven off and grabbed my keys before running to the hospital.

No news is good news, I repeated to myself silently as I stabilized a hero’s broken leg. No news is good news.

No one knew Keigo was more than a friend to me. Hell, no one even knew we were friends at all, which meant no one was going to let me know if the had found him and how badly hurt he was. When I finished my shift, it took a long time before I could find him. I had to ask around without raising suspicion, just in case I ended up endangering him even more. After a couple of hours, a nurse confessed he had seen Hawks being taken to an OR but hadn’t seen him after that. After a quick review of the OR chart, I managed to find his hospital room, far from the other patients that were also recovering from the war.

Keigo’s room was guarded by two tall men I figured were sent by the Hero Public Safety Commission. I lied about being sent to take his vitals and after showing them my hospital ID, they let me inside. The soft beep of the machines hooked to his body was the only noise in the room. His eyes were closed and half his face was covered with gauze. I grazed his fingertips with my own, the only part of his arms that wasn’t covered by bandages. His wings were gone, but a part of my brain kept screaming I needed to lay him on his side because he always hated how uncomfortable it felt when he lay on his back. I bit my lip trying to calm myself down and took a look at his chart that was resting on his nightstand. Keigo was in a medically induced coma. He was stable, but the nerve damage he had received on his wings was disheartening. Also, the massive burns all over his body made his healing process even more difficult. I reviewed the work done by the other doctors; even if I knew due to his status his case must be directly supervised by the head of Trauma, the best one in Japan. Just like I thought, they had already done everything they could to save his life. Now all that was left to do was wait.

“Keigo” I whispered, as I pretended to take notes from the screen of the machine in case the guards were looking through the small window on the door. If there was a small chance he could listen to me, I was going to take it. I didn’t know when I would get to see him again. I quickly wiped the tear that fell down my cheek and took a deep breath. “You said third time’s the charm... I’ll be here, then”.

[project-ohagi]

Rumi Usagiyama ღ Miruko x Reader

Buy me a coffee!! <3

At first, the news had sent a surge of felicity pirouetting around your heart. Since the dawn of adulthood, you been quite desperate for a child, but whenever the subject was broached, your boyfriend would reel off some fantastical excuse as to why you shouldn’t try just yet. It was too early, he wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment - maybe later, okay sweetie? You should have realised his play, but you were naïve, drowning in love and trust. So you relented, shelving your dream for him, for the man who decided that abandoning you at your most vulnerable was fair.

It was to him.

To him, your relationship had been merely a farce. By manipulating such an innocent young thing as yourself, he dispelled the suspicions and rumours surrounding him. To an outsider, the hugs and kisses were genuine tokens of his affection. Even you had believed this, as foolish as it sounded in hindsight. Your support network wasn’t potent enough to destroy all the pain he inflicted. He left one night, and you had waited. You waited for days, feeling deep within your core that he would soon return. He just needed a little break, is all! It was big news. He just needed time alone to process it. Except…he hadn’t been so alone, and he never crept back into your embrace.

You would have forgiven him. You would have forgiven everything.

Finally, comprehension stabbed at you, and the turmoil began filtering out your excitement.

You were resolved to keep the child, provide the entire world and then some, all on your lonesome. It would certainly be difficult, but nothing was impossible. Not for a single mother. As far as you were concerned, that wretched man was a criminal, who captured your heart and sentenced it to the most excruciating form of torture. You wouldn’t let him steal anything else - especially the one thing bound to bring you joy.

What use were men, anyway?

Well, worrying for the erstwhile months was useless. Your boots graced the concrete and you clutched your eight-and-a-half month baby bump. You smiled brightly, through the aching pain of your back. Perhaps it would prove wise to spend less time tossing and turning amid your bed-sheets, and actually sleep in a comfortable position? You had never experienced backache like this before. Hopefully this would be the one and only instance. You looked to your phone, checking both the time and weather, and trying not to pay too much attention to your background. It was a close-up shot of the Rabbit Hero: Miruko, leaked to the media and quickly snagged by you. It was such an incredible picture, capturing the definition of her muscles and that pride-stitched smirk. She was something of a celebrity crush, you supposed - not that that would ever be revealed.

All of a sudden, your stomach twisted - a result of the harsh kicking from within, maybe? Or were these more of the dreaded contractions? If that was the case, then abdicating your afternoon walk was probably a good decision. You hastened toward home, hand still firmly attached to your bump.

"Hey, watch where you're going, you ignorant slut!" The voice was startling, not least of all because you didn’t realise someone had been barrelling down the street, in your direction.

You wanted to apologise, despite clearly being void of fault, but your stomach throbbed with agony. The challenge of simply placing one foot in front of the other was becoming greater, and you were tired. You barely had enough energy to stand, let alone argue with this man. A civilian standing nearby watched the exchange, and grabbed the man's arm.

"Why don't you watch where you're going? You just ran into a pregnant woman! What the Hell is wrong with you?" It was nauseating to see a stranger fight your battle, but you appreciated the help.

The man's agitation seemed to be growing. "Huh? How is that my problem?!"

"How is it not your problem?"

He liberated himself from the civilian's hold, just as a distant voice shouted, "Don't let him get away! He's a thief! Thief!"

Your saviour attempted to grab him again. "Is there a hero in the area? Or failing that, a police officer?"

"Eh…I think she might need a doctor, too."

A sliver of water - what surely must have been water, anyway - trickled down your leg. It was soon shadowed by drop after drop, but with your attention diverted, you didn’t really notice until a hero arrived on the scene. Your lips parted in disbelief. It was your idol, Miruko, in the flesh!...But you couldn’t allow her to witness you in such a sorry state. So you turned away, hoping that your company would get the message. They didn’t. Your abdomen felt almost like a rock, the contractions became more frequent and moulded agony on to your face. Someone yelled, wondering why you weren't being escorted to a hospital. The thief was apprehended. You groaned, water pooling underfoot.

A dam had burst inside your core, and the torrent showed no sign of slowing.

The civilian from earlier spoke to Miruko, pointing at you, in spite of your embarrassment. The next thing you recalled was being lifted into a pair of muscular arms, and risking a glance up at that radiant smirk. The pain forced you to hunch, and as Miruko whisked you away to god knows where (hopefully a hospital), your flushed cheek found purchase on her chest. The water continued to flow. Why was she still holding you? She must be soaked by now! Oh gods, this was so, super embarrassing! Humiliating, even! She was an extraordinary hero, someone for whom you held deep respect and adoration…and now she was carrying you like a princess, while your water was breaking. The journey lasted an eternity. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration. She was very fast, so you actually reached a hospital in a matter of minutes.

"How far along are you?" Truth be told, you had expected her to leave the minute you arrived.

But you were still curled up in her arms. "Eight-and-a-half months."

"Damn! Why were you out on the street? And you got attacked by that guy, right? Well, I beat his ass for ya!" She led you inside the building.

"Thank you so much." A smile lingered on your lips, but your breathing was laboured. "You have no idea how grateful I am."

She laughed as a midwife practically tethered you to one of the beds. You had acquired your hospital gown, which would no doubt make the delivery easier. You didn’t really understand, but apparently the baby was coming? The nine month mark hadn't even hit yet! Worry seeped into your heart. Did something go wrong? Was this ordeal about to end in tragedy? Miruko's keen eyes latched on to your shaking form, her ears picking up on the tiny whimpers passing through your lips. She was childless herself, but could fathom the pain of labour, and the anxiety that accompanied it. But heroes didn’t allow people to suffer alone, right? Especially not the most defenceless. The midwives practiced breathing with you, slow and steady. Miruko followed suit, grasping your hand in hers and taking in big gulps of air. You seemed to relax upon seeing this.

You panicked less.

You stared at each other for a spun-out minute, just grinning and relishing in the warmth and the comfort. Until you started pushing, and you had to squeeze her hand very tightly. Thankfully, this woman was incredibly strong, and you were not, so it was more adorable than harmful.

"Come on, you can do this!" She stated, leaning toward you ever-so-slightly. "I'm gonna be here, and my hand ain't gonna snap off, so you can hold it as tight as you need!"

You nodded, over and over, trying desperately not to scream. There was a trace of blood, that Miruko was ready to call out, when the midwife told her it was completely normal.

"You hear that? Everything's fine! Just keep going!" She squeezed your hand back, the sight of you writhing in pain tugging at her heartstrings.

She stayed, out of more than simple necessity.

She stayed! That was more than could be said for…

Oh, forget about him already!

When the baby finally tumbled out, you sighed in relief, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Miruko's grin widened with both pride and elation, as if she was your birth partner. Maybe she was. She vanquished those small, glassy droplets.

"We did it!"

Did she…did she mean those words? They sounded genuine, they sounded…loving. Was it possible? Your new-born nestled into her strong arms. Miruko had the air of a triumphant parent. Maybe she could be. Maybe this wouldn’t be your last encounter. Maybe she would stay, be a permanent fixture in your lives. Wouldn’t that be something wonderful?

Fatigue brought your voice to a whisper.

A happy, little whisper.

"…We did it…"

Hurray…!

[Word Count: 1502]

[iwritethat]

Dick Grayson: Meeting Your Heroes

A/n: Bit random but I thought it was a cute idea.

>>>>——————————>

Ever since you’d discovered he was Nightwing, your boyfriend was simply underwhelmed by your lack of enthusiasm or any reaction at all regarding his vigilantism. Like his family had discussed when he brought up the ‘issue’, this was the best case scenario - not only had you stayed with him, you didn’t make yourself apart of that side of his life, it was simply as if nothing had changed. Which, to every hero, was the ideal outcome for confessing their alias to their significant other.

Dick on the other hand decided he required a reaction, he’d made it a secret competition between you two. He wouldn’t hide anything, if you asked a question then he’d tell you about his night in full detail if only to get something from you. Or least a reason as to why you were so collected with all of this.

It started when he climbed through the window one particular night, crimson decorating the right shoulder of his costume as he captured the light of your living room.

“Babe you’re covered in blood!” Your tone held some concern, yourself standing to meet him by the kitchen counter with a glass of water in hand.

“Don’t worry, it’s not mine.” Dick replied rather cooley, acting rather proud that he’d miraculously returned home with only a few minor bruises.

“Oh great, so it’s some strangers blood you’re dripping all over my carpet.” Your sarcastic playful remark knocked him back down to Earth, the man completely miffed that you weren’t phased by the gore he’d brought home with him nor repulsed by it. In fact you had the audacity to joke about your carpet of all things.

He’d have to try harder.

.

“The Penguin escaped Arkham again tonight, not too much of an issue but that old crow still packs a punch.” Was the first thing you heard when your boyfriend returned from patrol, freshly showered and changed he collapsed on the sofa moving between your legs to wrap his arms around your waist and simply rest his head on your abdomen. Instinctively your fingers soothingly carded through his raven hair as he released a hum of contentment at your touch alone, your other hand still shifting through the channels.

“That idiot still using his damn umbrella, with that annoying spike at the end to stab at you like some sort of fencing duel?” You casually questioned, gaze still focused on the TV but Dick noticed the way you jabbed the remote like a sword to complement your words as a visual representation. He wasn’t even sure if you realised you did it.

“Yeah, it totally rained on my parade.” At your boyfriend’s terrible pun, you flicked your attention to him with a raised brow, Dick had taken note as he watched whatever programme you’d settled on but you responded with a pun of your own.

“Straight to the point I suppose.”

This caused him to chuckle a bit, maybe he didn’t need a reaction from you, you’re willingness to take his lifestyle in stride truly didn’t require this competition of his. Your openness about it made it easier for him to relax, to share moments like these with you.

.

And so he settled on keeping you informed on his vigilante side job just as much as he did on his usual one. Contest set aside.

“Harley Quinn and the Suicide Squad are back in action, keeps them in line somewhat I guess.” Grayson commented as you both walked into your apartment that evening after your date.

“Agreed, I always said she’d be better without the Joker. Glad she took my advice, and Ivy is a much better match.”

“Ivy? What?” He looked puzzled, watching as you placed your keys on the coffee table reaching for an envelope beside them.

“Yep, my girls are dating! Surprise my love, it’s good news though at least I think so.” You gleefully stated, handing over a letter sealed with a prominent scarlet lipstick mark.

“To my favourite (S/h/n), the best there ever was cuz Bats put me in Arkham.

Hope everything is okay with you sugar, I told ya I was doin alright now I’m back on my feet and out of that crazy place and Ivy has my back. Broke my phone on my last mission but I’ll drop by soon or call ya (Y/n), whichever comes first.

Love, Harley x”

.

It was eerily silent after your boyfriend read the letter, his brows knitting together as he looked between you and the parchment a couple of times with failed attempts at making conversation. Instead simple gasps emitting from his lips which you found endearing.

“(S/h/n)?! You’re them?!” His sudden excitement startled you, his sapphire irises lighting up more than you thought possible.

“I was, but I retired. Wanted to make a life for myself outside of the vigilante game y’know.” You shrugged it off unbothered, the contrasting response to a giddy Dick Grayson who gazed at you like a lovestruck teenager.

“No way! This is the best day of my life! I’m so glad I finally get to meet you - I have so many questions!” He places the letter down on the counter, pacing the kitchen with his hands in the air and a variety of gestures accompanying his cheerful tone.

“Uh... Dick...” Your voice and expression mirrored that of confusion, believing he would already know about your past.

“I don’t think you understand, I had the BIGGEST crush on you and it sucked that I only got to work with you like twice. No matter how many times I tried to get Bruce to track you down so we could recruit you to one of our Teams, he wouldn’t allow it and I couldn’t find you myself either. And yet here you are in my apartment!” His hands grasped your shoulders, words tumbling from his lips like he hadn’t processed them much to your amusement.

“You’re dating me... in our apartment...” Your voice displayed your humour, dazzling smirk gracing your lips as you emphasised the facts.

“...”

As if this information had just registered in Dicks brain, you tilted your head slightly as you spoke with a genuine smile.

“Earth to my boyfriend - hello?”

“Holy crap, I sleep with you.” It was a mutter of disbelief, any quieter and you wouldn’t have heard it but you smugly answered anyway.

“Yes. Yes you do.”

“This is - I don’t know what this is - a dream come true! (S/h/n) is my significant other, I’m the luckiest guy in the world, I mean I knew that already but now - I love you even more (Y/n) and I didn’t think that was possible.” The excitement practically radiated from his form and he wasn’t really sure how to process this development - going from crossing his arms to gesturing toward you and shaking his head with an unyielding grin.

“Oh my god, you’re fangirl-ing. I have a fangirl, this is unreal. I can’t look at you right now let alone anything else Dick.” You facepalmed, hiding your obvious devious smile behind your hand as you desperately tried not to laugh at his behaviour.

.

It was silent once more, you still being surprised by how much Nightwing admired you, although back then he’d have been Robin. The original boy wonder had a crush on you, how sweet.

“Do you still have your suit?” It was out of the blue, Dick more serious about this inquiry.

“Wha- no!” After playfully punching his shoulder you responded, the male feigning pain but matched your smile.

“Aw, we could’ve taken a picture together in our suits. Talk about goals.”

“What a tragedy.” Sarcasm, you simply couldn’t help it as you rolled your eyes.

“It all makes sense now, why you didn’t give a damn about me coming home a mess. You’d seen it all before, probably done it yourself. You know about major criminals and asked about their strategies and gave your own advice, heck you even have personal ties to Harley Quinn! Wait, did you get stabbed by Penguins umbrella? I feel like I should’ve noticed this sooner actually...” The last statement held a hint of sheepish embarrassment, Dick rethinking over the signs he’d glossed over during your relationship.

“Lightly prodded. And considering you were trained by the worlds greatest detective then maybe? But in your defence I made sure all evidence of my past was gone.” You happily reasoned, wrapping your arms around his waist as you stepped toward him.

“Exactly! You seem like a normal civilian except from the casual ‘oh cool’ when your boyfriend tells you he’s Nightwing.” He returned your comforting embrace, placing a kiss to your nose in the process.

“I knew that fudged you up!”

“It didn’t... I just wanted you to swoon a little, I mean have you seen me in that suit? But you didn’t even bat an eyelash...” Now you could tell he was joking with you, tone somewhat seductive as he smirked knowing you did find him attractive both in and out of his Nightwing suit.

“Oh? I’m sorry, but aren’t you supposed to act cool in front of your hero crush?” Was your cocky reply, pulling back from his embrace with sass in your tone.

“You have a - on me. As in me?” Dick placed a hand to his heart as he asked, sincere with a degree of surprise.

“Duh.”

“I have to call my brothers! Tell them that (S/h/n) has a crush on me!” Once more his voice filled with what can only be described as sheer joy, quickly kissing your lips before reaching for his phone whilst you crossed your arms with a sigh.

“On Nightwing, but sure go ahead fangirl.”

[once-upon-a-scenario]

Daydream warrior

Pairing: Bakugou x f!Reader

Word count: 749

Another song inspired scenario! I don’t really write for BnHA, but I did want to post this one ^^__________

No way.

(y/n) stared at the papers in front of her in shock, not wanting to believe what she was seeing. After weeks, no, months of connecting the smallest clues, traveling around the whole country just to find new information, she had finally managed to connect all of them into a coherent mass.

But the answer to the question the whole of Japan was asking wasn’t what she had expected.

———

The first time Killer Blast appeared, almost a year ago, he sent the country into a state of distress and disarray. In his first attack, he killed three heroes and over fifteen civilians, with no apparent reason.

Ever since that day, countless more lives had been lost to his manic outbursts, appearing out of nowhere and disappearing just as quickly.

He wasn’t one to flaunt his real identity, obviously wanting to continue his attacks as long as possible.

It was three days after the first attack that (y/n) had first met Bakugou Katsuki. The blond man had introduced himself as a quirkless student, attending the same college as her, aspiring to become a doctor.

He was really… sweet. Nothing like his initial appearance might suggest. For all his scowling and glowering, when they finally started to talk after a few shared lectures, he never once showcased his frowns if Akane was talking to him.

The affectionate feelings she held for Bakugou slowly began to grow, and before she’d realised it, (y/n) was head over heels for him. It was the biggest mistake of her life, letting herself go like that.

As a hero in training, she wasn’t allowed to have a significant other. They were considered to be a distraction, and could be used as collateral against heroes. Having a quirkless boyfriend, incapable of defending himself made the situation even worse.

Yet, (y/n) thought it was worth the risk. Bakugou made her feel alive, like she was soaring in the sky.

Never once did she think that their relationship would end like this.

———

Exiting her apartment in a hurry, the girl pulled her coat tighter around her. She had to see Bakugou. It wasn’t possible that he was the one behind all those tragedies. It simply didn’t make sense.

Did it?

It had taken her almost ten minutes to snap herself out of the wave of nausea that overcame her after seeing the pieces connect. Quickly after, she had been running out frantically, while texting the boy to meet her in the usual place. From the beginning, there had always been a small nagging voice in the back of her mind, but she chose to ignore it.

(y/n) ran as quickly as she could, ignoring her heart crying out.

As she neared the meetup place, she felt her resolve start to waver. Was this really what she wanted? To make Bakugou end up behind the bars?

She took another step. Soon, she would be past the point of no return.

(y/n) adored the way the blond boy made her feel. Her beloved feelings, the now unforgivable feelings, they were all reaching boiling point. She had to see him one last time, to confirm that it was really true.

Lost in her thoughts, silently praying that it wasn’t true, the girl was snapped out of her thoughts by a voice calling her name. Looking up, she saw the boy who would soon become her lost love.

Of course, it all made sense now.

He always disappeared a day before Killer Blast would strike.

Whenever someone mentioned the villain, he would try to change the subject, looking uncomfortable.

While he claimed he was quirkless, he never got any of the bonuses that were usually granted to people like that.

And his voice. Of course it was his voice.

(y/n) had only encountered Killer Blast once, but his voice had forever stayed etched into her mind. It was raspy, full of anger. She’d never even come close to realising it was the same voice that whispered so many sweet nothings into her ear during cold nights.

Now, as she looked of the face of the man she’d come to love, (y/n) forced herself to swallow back her tears.

She had to forget. Forget his kindness. Forget the link she felt between them. Forget the hopes and dreams she had for their shared future.

It was time to sharpen her senses for the battle.

I swear I’ll end it all with my own hands.

[pettyprocrastination]

And Scene Quentin Beck x Reader

Word count: 1655

Warnings: Spoilers for Spiderman: Far from Home, fake gore and murder/near suicide depicted in a play. Crappy writing and editing lmao.

Fic summary: You’re a local actress and quite possibly the only person in the world who is able to deal with Quentin’s pretentious bastard bullshit enough for him to see you as a friend (and perhaps more). Will you two be able to tell when the curtains close or will whats from a script mix into what’s from your hearts? (the most CLICHE FUCKEN SUMMARY LMAO)

chapter summary: After a particularly moving performance from his closest (and only) friend in a local play, Quentin realizes what Mysterio has been missing thanks to her breathtaking performance.

Chapter one

You helped create the role of Mysterio more than anybody else on Quentin’s team did. 

He came to you with every idea, every costume sketch and every detail of his backstory, wanting you to read over it and give him your opinion on it. If you said you didn’t like something, he trashed it. If you said to add something, he did it without hesitation. He claimed it was because you were an actor, a small one who only did local plays, but still the best damn actor he knew. 

Others on the team whispered that it was because there was more to your “relationship”.

And truly, there was. But he would never let them know that. He didn’t let them know that he did his damnedest to see every performance you had, whether he’d be front row or in the back of the theater with a fond smile. He didn’t let them know that in college when he was a pretentious engineering student, you were a bubbly theater major who was the only person on campus that could get him to step away from his latest project, the only person that could get him to laugh so hard he couldn’t breathe, make his palms sweat and knees knock like he was a goddamn schoolboy staring at his crush. 

They didn’t know that even though you two shared an apartment with two rooms it wasn’t an oddity for one of you to come to the other’s late at night, longing to fall asleep in each other’s arms and then wake up early and get ready for the day with no mention of it. They didn’t know he wanted nothing more than to hold you tight the morning after and never let go, to kiss you with all the emotion and passion he had bottled up, something he’d dreamed of doing since he was nothing but a little shit in college who thought he was better than everybody else. 

Even you didn’t know that last one. 

It wasn’t until one late night that you truly helped shape Mysterio with a mold that Quentin wouldn’t have ever thought of using in his life. 

“It’d be cool if you had another person on the other side of the spectrum on this whole thing.” You pointed at him with a potato chip before popping it into your mouth. Quentin had just gotten home from spending hours with the illusion tech to choreograph the first fight. It was all coming together perfectly but something wasn’t right, something was missing. He just couldn’t figure out for the life of him what the fuck it was.

 You were tucked up on the couch underneath a heavy blanket, some superhero movie was playing on the TV but your eyes were more focused on the script in your hand. The final performance for your current play was in two day. It was some Greek tragedy that Quentin didn’t know all the details of, besides that you were the main character and it involved you getting caked in blood. “You know,” You said offhandedly. “-to really sell it.”

Quentin didn’t understand what you meant. The gears in his head so tired from running perfectly all day so much that now all they did was clash and grind against one another, leaving the man to frown and tilt his head to the side like a confused puppy dog. 

“You mean, like a dirty cop?” He was surprised you would even suggest such a half brained plot like that. That was much too dangerous, too easy to be torn to shreds if one of those ties got caught on one somebody who couldn’t play the part as well as him. 

Which was everybody.

You snorted and rolled your eyes. “No dumb-ass, another character. You know, a sidekick or a damsel in distress.” He found himself hanging on your words, cautious at the thought of bringing in somebody knew to his project, but intrigued enough to let you ramble. 

“-Like your very own Lois Lane-” it was then that you flashed a shit eating grin his way before pointing to the TV.

“-or your very own Catwoman if you’re feelin’ nasty.”

He looked at the TV to see on the screen that the main hero, Batman by his guess (ever since actual super heroes became “normal” he found the movies too nauseated to actually) in heated battle with a woman in a skintight catsuit, he assumed that was cat woman. Every punch he threw she dodged, usually with some sultry line tossed his way before she eventually escaped him all together like a vixen made of smoke. 

“But then again, there’s no way in hell you’d let anybody share the spotlight with you on this.” You flicked his nose and smiled. Even though it was at his expense he felt his hands sweat. “It’s a miracle your big head can fit in the stupid fishbowl helmet of yours.”

He rubbed the tip of his nose, seemingly deep in thought but still realizing your not so subtle dig. “You said you liked the helmet!”

You merely laughed at him and continued to read your script. 

Quentin had just barely made it to see the curtains open to reveal you on stage. He was out of breathe, not even mumbling apologies to those already in their seats as he stepped over them, practically clamoring over seated audience members to get to his own chair. 

You had told him the story was a tad dark, but he was still surprised that at how well you played the role.

You were a woman in ancient Greece, who fell deeply in love with a man of royal blood from a far off civilization. So caught up in the infatuation you feel upon first meeting him, you both quickly get married and move away to his home. The story followed your character as she slowly learns that the man she supposedly loves was not as sweet as he was on their first meeting. He was cruel and brutal, as well as unfaithful. His twisted nature was shared by the entire royal family, stretching from your husband cheating on you to ordering attacks on the commoners for no other reason than “to keep them from knowing anything else.”

And eventually, his darling wife had snapped. In the middle of the night you killed the entire royal family in a fit of rage and take over their rule as a queen with a fair but firm hand. 

You had a long monologue near the end, one that Quentin heard you practice day and night for a month nonstop. Hell, he even helped you run lines a couple of times and when he was feeling nice. And damn if all the practice and memorization quizzes didn’t pay off. You stood at the center of the stage, white dress stained in blood clinging to your figure as you spoke to the audience.

“Was I not enough for him?” You wept, trembling hands holding the blood stained dagger to your chest. “Was it not enough to have a wife, complacent in her own entrapment for him? Was it not enough to have a kingdom of civilians, obedient in their own slaughter and torture for him?!” You voice shook as you screamed to the audience. The emotion and desperation was so real Beck couldn’t help but feel his heart twisted by the picture painted before him. A woman so hurt, so alone and filled with trauma she felt no worth, no way out other than to take her own life after taking that of her wretched husband’s.

“I am no better than him.” You spat, the tears on your face mixed with the blood spatters on your cheek and onto the soaking dress that clung to your body. “I am no better than that cruel man who took the lives of others to keep them obedient. It isn’t enough that I did the same, because I was so tired, so scared of the man I thought I loved!” You raised the dagger higher before choking out. “Perhaps, in another life I will be a better wife to my beloved.”

Everybody expected you to plunge the dagger deep into your stomach before dropping to the floor in a dramatic and cliche death before the curtains close on you. But instead, you stopped mid swing, knife inches away from your stomach and eyes wide as if you had just come to your senses.

You dropped the dagger onto the floor and the sound echoed throughout the silent theater.

It was then that your shifted into a completely different character.

You stood suddenly tall, shoulders squared and head held high in a deep contrast to the stature of you staying meekly curled into yourself at your husband’s side through the entire play. Your hands stopped trembling and laid at your side, your eyes were no longer wide and afraid, but cold, focused, confident.

“Perhaps I wasn’t a proper wife.” You spoke, before your lips curled into a predatory smile.  “But I will be a magnificent queen.”

The curtains quickly shut and the audience applauded, but Quentin stayed in his seat as his mind ran a marathon. 

He had always been impressed by your talent in acting, but that performance left him in awe. How quickly you were able to go from a woman to weak and distraught she was willing to take her own life, to ruthless, strong-willed, and stone cold in a matter of seconds left him in awe of you. 

But soon after as the fog lifted from his brain, the cogs in his head began to move in sync once more, and he realized he had found the final piece to Mysterio that he had been lacking for so long. Quentin quickly jumped over the seats, pushing his way through people moving to leave or congratulate the actors so he could get to you first. His body practically buzzing in excitement to give you praise but to also let you know that Mysterio would finally be complete. All thanks to you. 

He had finally found his Catwoman.

 Ayyyyy chapter one is donezo!! (It’s probably rough as SHIT so I might edit it tomorrow when I get off of work but I really wanted to get started on this and put it out. I love mcu mysterio so much that bastard has my heart!!! This is going different than my other fics because the reader is…kind of a baddie in this one i guess?? But let me know if you enjoyed it! Send me hc’s, your thoughts on it, or if you’d like to be tagged in it! Love you all

[scarletwitching]

You said Jonathan Hickmans Avengers made you real mad? Could you (or have you) elaborate on that?

When I first sat down to answer this, I decided I should re-read the run, so that I could better articulate what bothered me about it. Then I tried to re-read it, and I quickly went, “No. That’s not happening.” I didn’t get very far, which is why this won’t be the most well-argued post.

The thing that made me so mad that I quit reading most regular Avengers comics was the last issue where Steve and Tony punch each other while the world ends.

Avengers Vol. 5 #44

It’s a terrible scene, and it puts me in mind of this article about The Force Awakens.1

When you’ve actually invented a tragedy that’s hundreds of thousands of times bigger than the Holocaust (in a film that prominently references Nazis) only in order to threaten that they’re about to do it again, in a matter of seconds, YOU CANNOT ASK YOUR AUDIENCE TO CARE THAT SOME GUY AND HIS SON ARE WASTING THOSE ESSENTIAL SECONDS HAVING A MOMENT ON A BRIDGE.

No. You cannot. That is a fatal flaw. That is an inversion of stakes so monstrous that it makes the film actually despicable.

The world stops when two white men need to hash out their feelings.

I found the way Steve and Tony’s relationship was handled towards the end of that book to be uncomfortable and bad. “You lied to me!!!!11” Okay? Aren’t you guys supposed to be heroes? Shouldn’t you be focused on saving all the life in the universe? Who approved this characterization?2 Who thought this was a good idea? Why am I supposed to care about this when the world is ending? It seems like Hickman was just using their relationship (and the precedent set by Mark Millar) as an excuse to write them, particularly Steve, in the most unlikable way possible. ‘Oh, you know Steve and Tony. They’re just evil when they’re together.’

Over the past couple of decades, Marvel has decided that everyone is deeply invested in that dynamic, and I just… don’t care about it. That’s not to say that no one cares about it. We all have different tastes, and that’s fine. But that relationship is not for me, and it’s so overexposed that I don’t want to read comics about it anymore. Hickman’s Avengers was my breaking point. After that, I decided no more Steve and Tony, if they’re going to act like that around each other. Even if they aren’t, I still need a break. A years-long break.

…and then there was the part where the Avengers went to a sovereign nation, broke into the home of some civilian refugees fleeing a genocide, and beat them up. This is getting a little long, so I’ll put the rest under a cut.

Infinity #1

It’s exactly what I said. They went to Italy (Hawkeye now speaks perfect Italian for some reason). They broke into an apartment inhabited by refugees who had fled a genocide. They had been (illegally??) spying on the refugees, but hadn’t tried to piece together any information about them as individuals or their situation. There’s no evidence that the refugees hurt or even bothered anyone. But the Avengers broke down their door, and without putting any actual effort into a peaceful solution, beat them up and arrested them.

This was written in 2013. Not that there’s ever a good time to write this, but wow, this was written in 2013.

Oh, and Infinity’s final issue has this aside:

Infinity #6

There’s a counterargument here that the Skrulls are just aliens, and it’s not that serious. My counterargument to that counterargument is Secret Invasion. Secret Invasion is the most famous modern Skrull story, and it is the context a Skrull story from 2013 would be understood in. It’s also an Islamophobic metaphor where the Skrulls are religious extremists who want to take over Earth and who keep saying “jihad” for some reason, despite being aliens. I don’t think the Skrull scene from Infinity is as bad as Secret Invasion, but it’s also not good.

This scene speaks to deeper problems I have with Hickman’s Avengers run. He takes an authoritarian angle with the team. The Avengers aren’t just superheroes in his vision. They’re imperialist ICE agents. When I think about Hickman’s work, I always come back to that first issue of Ultimates he wrote, where no female characters speak and the most important on-page role a woman has is to give an Important Man™ his coffee.3 That issue ends like this:

Ultimate Comics: Ultimates #1

Once upon a time, the Avengers answered to bureaucrats. Now, everything is SHIELD, and presidents defer to superheroes. For some, this is a subtle change, a difference in details they don’t care about. To me, it fundamentally alters the nature of the team and the world they reside in. I can root for an Avengers team that has to steal a bus because their security clearance was taken away.4 I have a much harder time rooting for Hickman’s authoritarian god-men who hold the fate of all life in their hands, but choose to be petty and insular.

For Hickman, it’s an Avengers’ World, but an Avengers’ World is not one I’m interested in. It flattens the overall texture of the Marvel Universe, and it does a disservice to the Avengers themselves. They are much less relatable, likable, and human when it’s an Avengers’ World.

This is the point where I have to say, “Maybe we’re supposed to know that the Avengers are bad in this, and that’s the point.” I’m not sure how much I believe that though. Do I think Hickman thinks everything they’re doing is good and right? No, but he doesn’t do a good enough job of analyzing and critiquing their actions within the narrative to justify things like the Skrull scene. Depiction =/= endorsement, but you should be saying something greater than “these characters do bad stuff sometimes.” I’m not convinced Hickman’s Avengers has much self-awareness or commentary.

I don’t agree with the fandom line of thinking that Big Two characters are sacred and we should never do anything that might be negative with them. There are, for example, criticisms of Mark Millar and Bryan Hitch’s Ultimates that begin and end with, “They made Captain America a xenophobe, and that’s bad because Captain America is supposed to be a good guy.” I don’t see it that way. There are problems with Ultimates, but it’s an alternate universe that ought to be allowed an alternate take. Writers should be allowed to say something, via a character called Captain America, besides “Steve is nice.” It matters how it’s handled though, and I’m not sure it’s even worth it to try. There is so much emotional investment in these characters that it’s difficult to make sharp political statements with them.

Going back to depiction vs. endorsement, we’re supposed to know Millar and Hitch’s Ultimates are bad people, but that doesn’t make the sexism (or the outdated Freddie Prinze Jr. references) any less real. That book is trying to say something, and it aims to be a satire. But it lacks the necessary tact and finesse to make that work.

To steal from someone else’s Hickman critique: “That’s the point.” “That doesn’t make it better.”

Worst of all, Hickman’s Avengers made me feel bad for Rick Remender. His run on Uncanny happened concurrently with Hickmanvengers, and Remender made a big deal of pushing back against the narrative that had come out of Avengers vs. X-Men about the Avengers being jack-booted thugs. To the point where he had Captain America say, “We’re not jack-booted thugs” in the first issue.

Uncanny Avengers Vol. 1 #1

And then along came Hickman screaming, “Never mind!! Yes, they are!!!” Imagine trying to make a point about the Avengers not being authoritarian assholes while someone else is writing this in a different title:

Avengers Vol. 5 #35

You can tell Remender wasn’t pleased because he got salty about being negatively compared to Hickman in the Uncanny Avengers annual. In true Remender fashion, it was inappropriately salty, but I understood where he was coming from.

Uncanny Avengers Annual 1

Let me be clear: No one is lesser because they like Hickman’s Avengers. It’s not a reason to insult someone. Remender is being facetious (and kind of a jerk) here. But there is some truth in poking fun at the “indecipherable mysteries.” I’ve already talked some about what’s wrong with Remender’s criticism, so I won’t dwell on this too much.

Overall, Hickman’s tastes and mine seem diametrically opposed. I prefer smaller casts and stakes. I like personal, character-driven stories about women. I want nuanced characterization and subtle, organic character development. And I don’t get any of that from Hickman’s work. Some people find his character arcs compelling, but I don’t. The Steve/Tony dynamic in his run is so over the top and inauthentic that it would be comical if it weren’t so annoying. I read a Hickman comic, and I just see nonsense words and no real emotions. It’s all Important Men™ and the women who bring them coffee.

Anyway, the best thing about Hickman’s Avengers is that Wanda isn’t in it. We dodged a bullet there. A true W for the home team.

1. I don’t care about Star Wars. Please do not yell at me about Star Wars.

2. It was Tom Brevoort. It’s always Tom Brevoort.

3. Someone’s gonna tell me to read East of West. No, I haven’t read East of West. I’ve heard he handles the female characters in that better, but I couldn’t say whether or not that’s true.

4. The bus scene still has them kicking everyone else off, but it gives those people a voice, however briefly. The Avengers are still people in that scene. They’re not an absolute authority with power over everyone else.

[daresplaining]

“Blind Man’s Bluff”: Psychic Swashbuckling and Spider-Man!

    On the whole, Soule’s run was fairly weak for me, especially following on the heels of Waid’s fantastic work on the comic. But there were elements that I really liked, so I want to highlight some of those while waiting for Zdarsky’s run to begin! One of the stand-out story arcs was #8-9 (titled “Blind Man’s Bluff”), which is half team-up, half heist, and just plain fun.    

    This story hinges on a simple-yet-fantastic scenario, with Matt engaged in some high-stakes gambling, and it starts off with one of the best, most characteristically Matt Murdock-y openers in years: 

Matt: “I raise. Fifty thousand.”

Matt (caption): “These cards I’m holding? Absolutely no idea what they are.”

    (One tragedy of this arc is the dang brown hair, which I might have taken as part of his disguise if it weren’t pervasive throughout significant chunks of Soule’s run. Hopefully, this trend will die a quick and permanent death now that the Netflix show has ended.)

    We eventually learn that Matt is in Macau on superhero business, hunting down a briefcase stolen by Black Cat, and has engaged in this game of poker to get closer to those protecting it. But his reasons for pulling this stunt feel irrelevant. The scenario is good enough that it stands on its own. Matt is in disguise, pretending to be sighted, playing Texas Hold ‘Em (one of the only casino games he, as a blind person, can even pretend to play, as he explains) and keeping on top of the situation despite all odds by doing the two things he does best: expertly reading his opponents via hypersenses, and being bold as hell. 

Matt (caption): “Okay, two pair showing, and it’s just me and Flex left in this round. If either of us has a king or nine, we’ll have a full house, which is a hell of a hand. But if we don’t, then... all right. Work through the odds. We know that the other players wouldn’t have folded if they... You know what? Let’s just see what happens.”

Matt: “All in.”

    Another treat of this story is the return of Laurent Levasseur-- one of Matt’s less-used civilian identities.  

Adhira: “May I join you? That is, unless you would rather be alone.”

Matt: “Not at all. I’m meeting a friend later, but... that’s later.”

Adhira: “Excellent. My name’s Adhira.”

Matt: “Laurent Levasseur.”

    For anyone unfamiliar, this is the French identity Matt was given when he went deep undercover for SHIELD in Scott Lobdell’s “Flying Blind” arc. 

Claudia: “My turn. Your name?”

Matt: “Laurent. Laurent Levasseur.”

Claudia: “You don’t sound very sure.”

Daredevil vol. 1 #376 by Scott Lobdell, Cully Hamner, and Christie Scheele

    “Flying Blind” is an imperfect story, but there’s a lot I love about it. Since it is almost never mentioned, this is a fun little callback-- and it’s also not the only one in this issue. As Matt mentions, he also gambled like this while undercover in Europe during Ed Brubaker’s run. What can I say? I’m a continuity nut. I love consistency. 

    As if Matt’s first poker game weren’t daredevilish enough, the comic gets even more creative and shashbuckly when he reaches the final round of the tournament. This is where he encounters real competition in the form of a telepath, who is employed by the casino to ensure that the house always wins. But of course, Matt is uniquely equipped to deal with this challenge as well. 

Matt: “Apex’s powers let him dip into the other players’ minds. It’s why he always wins. He knows what everyone else is holding. He sees through their eyes. To which I say, Mr. Apex... I wish you the best of luck.”

    Of course, it’s always great fun when Matt’s hypersenses work to his advantage, but it is even better (and much less common) when his blindness works to his advantage. Again, this is just a fantastic story premise on every level. 

    And then it gets even wilder, as Apex conducts a full-on assault on Matt’s mind to try to break him down from within.

Matt: “God, he’s strong. I have defenses against psychics-- Stick and my other senseis taught me to protect my mind as much as my body. In a world with telepaths around every corner, a secret identity doesn’t last unless your mental walls are strong. This kind of fight is nothing new for me.”

    This is an interesting comment because it is inconsistent with previous depictions of Matt’s training. Various psychic/mystical abilities are a key part of the Chaste/Hand power-set, but according to Miller’s version of Matt’s origin, his training with Stick ended before he learned how do to any of that. He is physically capable of keeping up with fully-trained Chaste members, but is a complete amateur in most other respects, which is something I’ve always enjoyed about his team-ups with them. 

Stone: “It will not work, Murdock. You are not trained...”

Matt: “I love you, Elektra. If there’s any way to bring you back-- I’ll do it-- even if it kills me!”

Stone: “...You do not know the way... Murdock-- help me--”

Matt: “Stick said... it’s just a matter.. of moving energy...”

Daredevil vol. 1 #190 by Frank Miller and Klaus Janson

    That said, I will buy the idea that Matt has strong mental defenses, and he has shown an aptitude for this sort of thing (against all odds, he is actually successful in reviving Elektra in the scene above). What he didn’t initially learn from Stick, he could have picked up in his later experiences working with the Chaste and with Master Izo-- the “senseis” I assume he’s referring to in the Soule issue. And it’s true that Matt has experience fending off mental attacks, with “Shadowland” being a major recent example. Though he needed help getting the demon out of him, the practical realities of that struggle probably taught him a lot. And finally, possibly most convincingly-- intense mental willpower is what allows Matt to function with hypersenses without going crazy. That is a form of mental shielding that Stick did pass on to him, and at which Matt is an absolute expert. And so it’s great seeing this expertise displayed via Matt and Apex’s mental battle, in which Matt nearly has his secrets exposed before knocking the guy out.

    My favorite case of Matt battling a telepath is still from A Vs. X: Versus, when Psylocke tries to get into his head and just gets blasted by his hypersenses...

Betsy: “Overloading-- feedback--”

Matt: “There’s the answer-- she’s a telepath. And she just learned what it’s like the first time you experience my hypersenses-- it hurts.”

Avengers Vs. X-Men: Versus #4 by Rick Remender and Brandon Peterson

...but this is a lot of fun too. 

    Having won the tournament (and a huge chunk of cash he can’t use, because it’s not under his real name), Matt finally acquires what he went through all this trouble and risk to get: a hotel room at the casino. Having secured this, he moves into the next phase of his plan, which involves a wonderful team-up with his superhero BFF Spider-Man. 

Peter: “Wait, this is your room? I thought you said this floor was for high rollers.”

Matt: “Sure did.”

Peter: “[...] I feel like there are things you aren’t telling me.”

Matt: “Oh, definitely”

Peter: “Good thing you’re one of my oldest and most trusted colleagues in the super hero biz.”

Matt: “Sure is.”

    Again, the plot itself feels secondary. Matt needs the room because it allows him access to a restricted floor of the casino, where the briefcase he needs to steal is being held. But it’s the interactions with Peter that make this issue so great. Soule writes both them very well, playing up their banter and the comfort they feel around each other, and thus emphasizing their closeness and the fact that they have known each other for a very long time. 

Matt: “This city’s almost completely vertical. It’s all tall towers and mountainsides.”

Peter: “I know, I love it. It’s like a six-lane highway for guys who get around the way we do. [...] I got a Spider-Tracer onto the briefcase before that guy made it into the panic room. [...] I’ve been tracking it ever since the guy got on the helicopter back in Macau.”

Matt: “Good news. Where is it now?”

Peter: “Oh... looks like... right in there.”

Matt: “You know... you are amazing.”

    And it’s important that this is emphasized, because of the other key part of this team-up: the fact that Peter no longer knows Matt’s secret identity. While Matt is his casual self around his friend, and while Peter attempts to laugh off this shift in status quo, it is there beneath the surface the whole time. Peter tries to advise Matt on the dangers of being in a “black-costume phase”, he tries to drop hints about how weird it is that he doesn’t know Matt’s real name, and then in the end, when he can no longer just let it slide, he confronts Matt directly. 

Peter: “I was thinking about it when you called me to help you down here. I have a lot of memories of adventures we’ve gone on over the years. But they feel... incomplete. Like they aren’t the whole picture. Like a jigsaw puzzle with only half its pieces. And I thought, ‘Gee, that sure is odd, considering that you are, after all, one of my oldest and most trusted colleagues in the super hero biz.’”

    This early in the run, the exact details of what happened with Matt’s secret identity haven’t been revealed yet. And this is the first time someone directly addresses the mind-wipe, or even seemingly notices it, so it is extremely significant. (I do think it’s weird that Peter is the only person to notice it, but that’s a topic for another post.) While I feel the mind-wipe was a very bad move, since it damaged so many of Matt’s relationships and negated a lot of decades-old character development, I do at least appreciate the poignancy of this moment; of Peter trying to understand why he can no longer trust someone he considers a friend, and Matt deciding that he can’t bear to outright lie to him. 

Matt (caption): “Make something up. You’re an attorney, Matt. You can make anyone believe anything, and Spider-Man wants to believe you. If you tell him something even remotely plausible, he’ll probably-- No. Enough is enough.”

Matt: “The reason you feel like there’s a hole in your memories is because there is. Everyone used to know my identity, and I did something to change that. I’m still the man you trusted. The only differences is that now you don’t know my name.”

    It’s an emotional end to a great story arc-- and while I would have much preferred to Matt to get Peter back up to speed, I appreciate the moment for what it is. Hopefully, after three years of this near-complete isolation, Matt will go into Zdarsky’s run with a desire to fully rebuild these relationships that clearly still mean a lot to him. 

[ikemen-imagines]

Daydream Warrior

{Villain!Bakugou x Reader}

Yo it’s admin T here! I know G said I’d been gone for a while, but by some weird coincidence, I was released from the hospital a lot earlier than I thought I’d be, so here’s a small piece I wrote to celebrate it! It’s inspired by the song Daydream Warrior, so I suggest you listen to it and check the lyrics out ^^ Without further ado:

No way.

(Y/n) stared at the papers in front of her in shock, not wanting to believe what she was seeing. After weeks, no, months of connecting the smallest clues, traveling around the whole country just to find new information, she had finally managed to connect all of them into a coherent mass.

But the answer to the question the whole of Japan was asking wasn’t what she had expected.

———

The first time Killer Blast appeared, almost a year ago, he sent the country into a state of distress and disarray. In his first attack, he killed three heroes and over fifteen civilians, with no apparent reason.

Ever since that day, countless more lives had been lost to his manic outbursts, appearing out of nowhere and disappearing just as quickly.

He wasn’t one to flaunt his real identity, obviously wanting to continue his attacks as long as possible.

It was three days after the first attack that (Y/n) had first met Bakugou Katsuki. The blond man had introduced himself as a quirkless student, attending the same college as her, aspiring to become a doctor.

He was really… sweet. Nothing like his initial appearance might suggest. For all his scowling and glowering, when they finally started to talk after a few shared lectures, he never once showcased his frowns if (Y/n) was talking to him.

The affectionate feelings she held for Bakugou slowly began to grow, and before she’d realised it, (Y/n) was head over heels for him. 

It was the biggest mistake of her life, letting herself go like that.

As a hero in training, she wasn’t allowed to have a significant other. They were considered to be a distraction, and could be used as collateral against heroes. Having a quirkless boyfriend, incapable of defending himself made the situation even worse.

Yet, (Y/n) thought it was worth the risk. Bakugou made her feel alive, like she was soaring in the sky.

Never once did she think that their relationship would end like this.

———

Exiting her apartment in a hurry, the brown haired girl pulled her coat tighter around her. She had to see Bakugou. It wasn’t possible that he was the one behind all those tragedies. It simply didn’t make sense.

Did it?

It had taken her almost ten minutes to snap herself out of the wave of nausea that overcame her after seeing the pieces connect. No more than two minutes after that, she had been running out frantically, while texting the boy to meet her in the usual place. From the beginning, there had always been a small nagging voice in the back of her mind, but she chose to ignore it.

(Y/n) ran as quickly as she could, ignoring her heart crying out.

As she neared the meetup place, she felt her resolve start to waver. Was this really what she wanted? To make Bakugou end up behind the bars?

She took another step. Soon, she would be past the point of no return.

(Y/n) adored the way the blond boy made her feel. Her beloved feelings, the now unforgivable feelings, they were all reaching boiling point. She had to see him one last time, to confirm that it was really true.

Lost in her thoughts, silently praying that it wasn’t true, the girl was snapped out of her thoughts by a voice calling her name. Looking up, she saw the boy who would soon become her lost love.

Of course, it all made sense now.

He always disappeared a day before Killer Blast would strike. Whenever someone mentioned the villain, he would try to change the subject, looking uncomfortable. While he claimed he was quirkless, he never got any of the bonuses that were usually granted to people like that.

And his voice. Of course it was his voice. (Y/n) had only encountered Killer Blast once, but his voice had forever stayed etched into her mind. It was raspy, full of anger. She’d never even come close to realising it was the same voice that whispered so many sweet nothings into her ear during cold nights.

Now, as she looked of the face of the man she’d come to love, (Y/n) forced herself to swallow back her tears.

She had to forget. Forget his kindness. Forget the link she felt between them. Forget the hopes and dreams she had for their shared future.

It was time to sharpen her senses for the battle.

I swear I’ll end it all with my own hands.

[thecorteztwins]

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WHAT TYPES OF THEMES DO YOU LIKE? (feel free to add!) Fluff / Angst / Smut / Action  / Tragedy /Domestic / Family / Conversational / Hurt-Comfort Just...general, I guess? Like interacting in whatever way makes most sense for the characters and seeing what happens

WHAT GENRES DO YOU LIKE? (feel free to add!) High Fantasy / Supernatural / Science Fiction / Historical / Horror / Comedy / Romantic / Drama/ Action / Adventure / Espionage

ARE THERE ANY THEMES YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE WRITING ON YOUR BLOG? (not triggers) No / Yes There’s a lot of common tropes that I find sexist or otherwise problematic. I understand this is just fiction for fun, I’m not trying to police what anyone else does or implying they believe in the messages that I get from these tropes (ex: if you just love a villain enough, you can redeem them!) but for me personally, I don’t like to write it, since what I enjoy about the fantasy aspect of RP is that I get to escape the tropes I dislike in mainstream media. I also am uncomfy with writing with muses who come from or are inspired by Christianity. This includes angels, Biblical characters, and Christian demons. I specify Christian demons because there are a great many demons in a great many works that have nothing to do with Christianity (Buffy, Marvel, and any number of Japanese anime, for instance) I am alright talking about it, like I was just recently talking with another mun about one of my muses being an angel in her own guardian angel verse for her muse, but I do not want to actually write these things in RP. I was raised Christian and it just feels weird to me, despite being an atheist now. I am just fine with figures from most other pantheons, however.

DO YOU HAVE ANY TRIGGERS?  HOW DO YOU REQUEST IT TAGGED? No / Yes It’s not a trigger, actually, I don’t have panic attacks or anything, I’d just prefer to be able to block it on my dash---incest, rape, and animal death/animal cruelty. I don’t need any fancy/specific tags for it, just tag it with something relevant or tell me your custom tag, and I’ll block it myself.

– S H I P P I N G –

WHAT TYPES OF RELATIONSHIPS ARE YOU OPEN TO? Romantic / Platonic / Familial (CANON)  / Familial (OCS)

WHAT TYPES OF PRE-ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIPS ARE YOU OPEN TO? Romantic / Platonic / Familial (CANON) / Familial (OCS)

DO YOU HAVE OTPS? No / chemistry only / Yes

DO YOU HAVE NOTPS? No / Yes Anne Marie and Magneto would be major NOPE NOPE NOPESVILLE for me. I realize that the “fanatically loyal female follower who is in love with the bad guy leader” is a super common trope in fiction (which is why it comes to my mind immediately for this question), but that’s NOT the case here. She sees him as a divine/religious figure, and her devotion is not sexual/romantic at all, it is purely about her desire to save mutantkind and the world from suffering, and her belief he will do that. Any kind of non-platonic dynamic between them would be dubcon (as she would not feel she could say no), inherently exploitative, AND SOMETHING SHE DOES NOT WANT. Besides the fact that’s NOT something I want to play, it’s not something I could ever see Magneto doing anyway.

WHAT IS YOUR MUSE’S SEXUAL ORIENTATION? Heterosexual (Fabian and Delgado) / Heteroflexible / Bisexual (Anne Marie, strong female preference)/ Homoflexible / Homosexual/ Pansexual / Demisexual / Sapiosexual / Asexual / Ambiguous (Chrome)

WHAT IS YOUR MUSE’S ROMANTIC ORIENTATION? Heteroromantic / Heteroflexible / Biromantic / Homoflexible/ Homoromantic / Panromantic / Demiromantic / Sapioromantic / Aromantic They all match their sexual orientation

ARE YOU COMFORTABLE WRITING SMUT? No / Selectively / Yes

HOW EARLY IN A RELATIONSHIP DO YOU SHIP ROMANTICALLY? Autoship / During Plotting / After A Couple IC Interactions / Several IC Interactions In / Slow Burn / Never {not open to romantic ships}

ARE YOU OPEN TO TOXIC SHIPS? No / SELECTIVELY / Yes / Never Tried It Anything with Fabian is going to be toxic tbh

ARE YOU OPEN TO PROBLEMATIC SHIPS? (canon history, age difference, complicated, etc.) No / SELECTIVELY / Yes *points to Fabian again* Darkshipping and the like is really not something I want or plan to do, but if something were to develop organically I might go with it. It really depends.

ARE YOU OPEN TO POLYSHIPPING? No / Selectively / Yes Anne Marie is fine with that. Chrome...has no opposition to it at all, but he doesn’t even want to deal with one person most of the time, let alone more than one. Delgado might agree to try it for a partner, but I’m not sure how comfy he’d really be with it. Fabian...Fabian wants a harem, as we all know, but of course how dare the girls not be totally all his :P Honestly, ships are super duper hard for this bunch, because they are devoted to the cause above all else. They are not just punch clock villains who see this simply as a job and can have a normal life outside it. It doesn’t work like that. Their relationships with people who are not Acolytes/Brotherhood/otherwise aligned with their cause are mostly going to be shallow, fleeting things, or tragically cut short/star-crossed. They simply cannot and will not be romantically involved, or often even friends with, someone who is not “one of them”. They do not ship with civilians/unaligned. They DEFINITELY do not ship with X-Men, Avengers, and other “heroes”. The exception to this is in AUs where they’re not Acolytes, so if you really want to ship (I’m not much of a shipper myself, but I’m open to discussing it) then an AU is your best bet.

ARE YOU AN EXCLUSIVE SHIPPER? No / Sometimes / Yes

DOES CRACK SHIPPING EVER HAPPEN? No / Yes

– T A G G I N G! –

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