A Fox Plushie Hehe

A SMOOTH CRIMINAL

⋆｡˚ ❀ pairing: wriothesley x gn!reader ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 1.4k ⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: you play a harmless prank on your close friend, neuvillette, and he decides to retaliate by sending you to the fortress of meropide for your so-called “crimes” 

You weren’t exactly a hardened criminal. 

Sure you had some bouts of harmless thievery as a child but even then you always returned the item to the owner out of guilt. So, how you got sent to the Fortress of Meropide for messing with your friend was beyond you.

Naturally, it just so happened that your friend was the Chief Justice, and your little prank happened to be pouring out an entire salt shaker into his water as he took a small trip to the restroom. But in your defense, Neuvillette had ordered the last La Lettre a Focalors on the menu and wouldn’t even share a bite with you. 

You huffed at the memory. Salty water was too kind of a punishment, looking back at it. 

Still, you didn’t expect such a petty thing would have you branded as a criminal. If you had known, you would’ve added the contents of the nearby pepper shaker into Neuvillette’s water as well. That way, this sentence would have at least felt more justified. 

After your paperwork was processed, Madeline told you to enter the lift and wait for someone to give you a tour. This would be your new home for a whole…seven days. You hoped you could survive it. 

You tapped your foot as you waiting for your tour guide, eyes scanning across the dark, metallic room. Despite the dim lighting, the Fortress sounded more lively than you would have expected.

Just as you were starting to grow impatient, you spotted a familiar figure walking your way.

Wriothesley, you recognized. You had a brief run-in with him only one before in your life— When you were hanging out in Neuvillette’s office waiting for him to finish the last of his work, when Wriothesley decided to pay the Iudex a surprise visit. Judging from the amused expression on his face, it would seem he remembered you too.

Now, whether it was a good or bad memory, you couldn’t exactly say. Though, for the sake of your time here, you sure hoped it was the former. 

“Prisoner 8072,” he greeted with a chuckle.

You waved sheepishly. “That’s me, reporting for duty, sir.” 

“At ease, solider.”

You rolled your eyes, secretly please he went along with your antics. 

He beckoned you to follow him as he began to show you around the fortress. “Now, before we start the tour, would you like to tell me how you landed here?” 

With an innocent look on your face, you shrugged.

Wriothesley raised his brow expectantly. “My sources tell me it was an attempted poison of the Iudex.” 

Your jaw dropped. “Is that what Neuvillette is telling people?!”

“Just me,” he admitted. 

You almost laughed in disbelief. “Well, it’s a little too late to defend myself now—not that I had a fair trial in the first place, mind you—but I at least have to say that poison the Chief Justice speaks of is measly table salt!” With a huff, you folded your arms across your chest. “Powerful Dragon of Water my ass… If he thinks table salt can poison him…”

Wriothesley chuckled at your pouting, patting your shoulder as a sign of sympathy. “For a week-long sentence, I would have expected that you put pepper in there as well.” 

Your eyes lit up. “That’s exactly what I’m thinking!”

He nodded in agreement, humoring you as he showed you to the cafeteria, offering you a free meal that you graciously accepted.

“While a week-long sentence may be unjust for your the level of your…misdemeanor, I do still hope you can enjoy your stay here,” he said as the two of you finished up your food. 

You considered your thoughts before stating, “I might. If you keep treating me to these free meals.” 

Wriothesley laughed, the noise coming deep from his chest, and you grinned in return. 

“Oh, what would the other prisoners think if they saw their duke playing favorites?” he said in mock despair.

“So you admit I’m already your favorite?”

“Do you find pleasure in putting words in my mouth?”

“Amongst other things.” 

His eyes widened and you flushed as you realized the implication of what you had said.

“Salty water,” you clarified as you cleared your throat. “That is all I was referring to.” 

He nodded solemnly, trying his hardest to keep a straight face. “Of course. Words and salty water.”

“Exactly.”

“Noted.” After a brief pause, Wriothesley quickly changed the subject. “Before I lead you to your dormitory, let me show you my office.” 

You followed along dutifully, making sure your mouth was glued shut until the embarrassment wore off. When the door closed, he beckoned for you to have a seat on the chair in front of his desk.

“To earn your keep here, we use a currency called Credit Coupons,” he explained. “Now, typically, the most steady and secure way for an inmate to earn these is by working in the production line–heating an shaping metals. A physically demanding job even for the strongest of individuals.”

You almost broke out into a sweat at the thought. Neuvillette would definitely be getting an earful from you once you were free from this injustice. 

Wriothesley laughed at the horrified look on your face.

“But luckily for you,” he said, “by special order from the Iudex himself, it was request you do administrative work in the office with me instead.”

“Oh, my gods,” you sighed in relief. Neuvillette was safe for now. 

“Don’t get too excited yet,” he warned with a teasing lilt to his voice. “Are you sure it’s better to be trapped in here with me for seven days than to brave the production line?” 

You quirked your head to the side. “You seem friendly enough.” 

“I’m glad you think so.” He stood up from his chair, pushing it in and waiting for you to follow suit. “Though brief, I look forward to working with you.” 

“You as well.”

He nodded. “Now, it is getting late. Allow me to me conclude this tour by showing you the dormitories.” 

The thought of seeing your new bed for the week excited you. You were tired from walking around so much and you couldn’t wait to shower and collapse on a mattress—no matter how thin it may be. 

Wriothesley dropped you off at the door of your room, watching as you examined the place. You blinked slowly. 

He laughed. “Not to your liking?” 

“I’ve seen hotel rooms that look worse,” you said while shaking your head. “I can manage!” 

“If it is too uncomfortable, don’t hesitate to let me know. Perhaps I can provide you with some special accommodations.”

You hid a smile. “Such favoritism already. Is this what being friends with the Chief Justice does for you here?” 

“Connections don’t quell you any favor in this part of Fontaine,” he said. “This treatment is based on your own merit.” He paused. “And the fact that the Iudex specified that he didn’t intend for this to be a genuine prison sentence.”

You almost snorted at the revelation, the pieces clicking together. “Is this his prank in retaliation for me adding salt to his water?!” you groaned, only upset because you didn’t think of this first. “What an abuse of power.”

Wriothesley chuckled. “Such is the life.”

As he got ready to leave you to your bed quarters for the night, he paused at the exit. You looked at him expectantly. 

“Did you need something?”

He shook his head. “No, not at the moment. I only wanted to say, I look forward to your assistance around the office tomorrow.”

You smiled in agreement. Who wouldn’t want a break from real life and escape to a prison ruled by a surprisingly benevolent duke? 

“Also—“ you looked up to see his sideways grin “—tomorrow’s breakfast is on me.”

With a chuckle, you found yourself agreeing to his offer. “I’ll look forward to the morning then.”

“Have a good night in your temporary home.”

As Wriothesley left the dormitory, you couldn’t shake the smile from your face. If you were going to be here for a week, you might as well make the most of it. At least with the Duke, your time wouldn’t be so bad. 

Maybe even after your sentence, you would still come and visit him.

You closed your eyes as your head landed on your pillow. It was harder than you expected. Quite uncomfortable, actually. You made a face. 

Perhaps Wriothesley could come up and visit you when this was over instead. 

Just recreating some manga panels 😗

WARNING!

This fic is not suitable for minors. It contains sexual relationships, accidental pregnancy, substance abuse, withdrawal, and addiction. This is a sequel fic.

Chapter 11

No one mourns the wicked

Your belly has grown more to the point where it’s harder to hide. You bought some new maternity work clothes with some stretch to accompany your growing belly. However, if Mister was able to notice a change in your physical appearance, then soon, others will too, and more than just your coworkers, but the public as well.

Mister calls at least once a week to check in and you take the call every time, sometimes even excusing yourself during work hours to sneak away and chat. It’s a simple joy, but reconnecting with him helps you feel more normal. You avoid discussing work or anything serious, but simple chats about prison gossip from his end or keeping him updated on the drama you’re watching with Toshinori makes the whole ordeal seem normal. The reality is though, that the world keeps turning while he’s locked behind bars.

The bell to your gate buzzes, pulling your attention from the drama you’re watching with Toshinori. You check the front camera and see Hawks standing there. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask through the intercom.

“I just came to see how you’re handling everything since the Billboard Chart announcement,” he says.

“Fine, I’ll let you in.”

“Actually, I was wondering if we could go out. There’s something I want to show you.”

You hesitate for a moment. “Okay. Give me a minute.”

You grab your bag and slip on your shoes calling to Toshinori in English, “I’m going out. Should be back in a bit.”

“Who is it?” he asks.

“Just Hawks, no one special.”

He furrows his brow slightly. “Okay, just let me know when you’ll be back for dinner.”

You step out of the house, following the path down to the gate and opening it. Hawks stands there awkwardly. His hands are shoved into his pockets and he’s wearing normal clothes. His jeans are dark, and he wears a black leather jacket over his T-shirt. Despite his attempt to blend in with civilians, he wears a katana strapped to his back.

“What’s that for?” you ask.

“Can never be too safe. I have to make sure I can protect you if we’re out in public,” he says with a smile.

“Seems a bit dramatic.”

“Is it? I thought it looked cool with this outfit.”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever, let’s just go.”

Hawks takes you to his ride, opening the passenger side door for you. It’s an all-black sports car, but you don’t recognize the brand name. He presses some buttons and the car hums as it comes to life.

“When did you get your driver’s license?” you ask.

“Few weeks ago. I figured it would be better than having to rely on Jeanist-san to drive me around. It’s also sexier than driving one of the cars from the Commission, don’t you think?” He smirks.

“A car is a car. I don’t find any sex appeal to them.”

His smile drops and he clears his throat. “Anyway, I want to show you something important.”

“Are you going to tell to me where we are going?”

He hums in thought. “Not yet. It’s a surprise.”

The drive isn’t too long and eventually the car rolls up to a cemetery. You step out of the vehicle, following Hawks to wherever he’s leading you. You walk quietly alongside him, unsure of what to say or how to make conversation. He doesn’t speak either, and it feels like the first time he hasn’t tried to force awkward quips and jokes to be lighthearted, which you’re grateful for.

Eventually he takes you to a plot that’s a bit more secluded than the others. It’s under a cherry blossom tree, the leaves a vibrant green from the end of summer.

“Bubaigawara Jin,” you read the name on the grave.

“I made sure his remains were handled properly since he didn’t have any family to do so,” Hawks says.

“Why?”

“I cleaned up his body to try to prevent Toga Himiko from getting access to his blood, but I guess I also had a lot of guilt. Someone had to do it, and I doubt any of the League of Villains would be going back to retrieve it. I wanted to be sure he at least had a proper burial.”

“So, you did it for yourself?”

“No. I’ve been too much of a coward to come here on my own. But I thought you should see it. I know you’re still mourning him, so you can come here to grieve if you need.”

“Why are you showing me this?”

“I’ve hurt you a lot. I’ve betrayed your trust in many ways. I know this doesn’t make up for any of that, but we should move forward together. You’re my assistant, and the mother of my child. We need to start being a team.”

He’s right, and you know it. You’ve been trying to avoid him for too long in an effort to not confront your conflicting feelings. You bite your lip, staring at the grave in front of you. He doesn’t push for further conversation, letting you take your time to mull his words over. You’ve been too busy fighting your own feelings towards him to even consider simply being a team. Working together professionally is one thing—you can hide behind all of the semantics of business when you’re at work, but co-parenting is another ballgame in its entirety. It requires seeing him regularly outside of work to raise a real living baby together. To be honest, part of you fears the feelings it could stir inside of you. Could you end up liking him again, or even fall in love? Would that be the most utter betrayal to your dead friends—as if carrying his child isn’t enough betrayal already? Standing there now, you’re forced to face those fears head on, when you’ve pushed them to the side for months, replacing them with disdain in order to ignore them.

Grief is weird like that, you suppose. It really isn’t the monster under your bed, it’s the face of the person who stares back at you in the mirror every day—it’s the man standing next to you now.

After a while, you reach into your bag and pull out the ultrasound photo and hand it to him. “It’s a girl, by the way.”

“Wow, a little girl, huh?” he smiles softly, staring at the photo.

“You can see her toes and fingers forming there.” You point. “The doctor says in a few more weeks the webbing between them will fall off and she’ll have fully formed feet and hands. Even fingernails. Isn’t that crazy? Our baby has little fingernails.”

“Our baby,” he repeats. “Yeah, it is crazy.”

“If you want, you can keep that one. I have another at home. I just kept that one in my bag to show the boys whenever I see them next.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s technically her first picture.”

“She looks just like you,” he jokes.

You roll your eyes. “You’re really so not funny.”

“I mean she’s cute just like you.”

“Ha ha. She’s covered in poop and slime and she’s bald. She’s not cute yet. She’s like a little parasite in my body until she’s born.”

“I didn’t know you had such strong feelings about pregnancy.”

“Well, it’s true. A fetus sucks a lot of nutrients from the mother. That’s why mothers have to usually gain weight and eat more and eat lots of healthy foods. Not just for the baby’s health, but the mother’s too.”

“Wow, I never knew that.”

“First time getting someone pregnant?” You give him a little smirk.

“I try not to make a habit of it.” He smirks back.

You snort and chuckle at him.

“I thought I was ‘really so not funny’,” he quips.

“You’re not, but sometimes you say a funny thing.”

He looks over the photo as if it’s a delicate piece of art. “It’s weird. I don’t think my mom ever got an ultrasound when she was pregnant with me. I don’t have any childhood photos.”

“Well, then let’s make sure we take lots of pictures of her.”

“I’m going to take a million, you know? From the moment she’s born.” He laughs. 

“Please don’t turn her into an internet sensation. I’ll really kill you if you become one of those parent bloggers.”

“No, she’ll be just ours. I promise.” His eyes scan over your face. “Come on. I want to show you one more grave.”

He pockets the ultrasound carefully into his jacket before taking you down the path further into the cemetery. You walk quietly, curious about what other grave he wants to show you but allowing the anticipation to build. The path winds and curves slightly over the hills, but Hawks keeps his pace slow next to you. It’s easy to notice how he walks a little bit closer now, almost as if he’s silently trying to say, “I’m right here next to you, in more ways than one.”

Eventually, he brings you to a grave marked for none other than Himiko. An incense stick is lit and there are flowers lying beside the gravestone.

“I don’t understand. I thought Himiko’s parents hated her?” Your voice is quiet as you stare at the large stone.

“Since you announced her act of heroism, Toga Himiko’s parents put this grave up. I think they were ashamed before, but I think having it here means more to other people than them.”

“You mean me?”

“And Uraraka Ochako. You can show her, and maybe that will help her move on from whatever she’s feeling.”

Your eyes follow the trail of smoke as it curls into the air, the gentle breeze whisking it away. “I haven’t even talked to her. To be honest, I heard about it from Todoroki Shouto.”

“Then, this can be a good excuse. I mean, it was kind of my excuse, after all.”

“I knew you had selfish reasons for bringing me here!” You slap him teasingly on his stomach. 

He flexes instinctively and you feel his muscles through his T-shirt.

“Only partially selfish.” He laughs. “You’ve been avoiding talking to me, so I thought if I showed you this place maybe you’d hear me out.”

“It’s not easy, you know. You killed my friend and then went on TV to justify it. You told the whole world that your relationship with me was just to gather information. Then, I find out I’m pregnant with your child. And you pardon me for my villain crimes and hire me as your assistant. It’s so overwhelming. How can I feel grateful for your kindness when you’ve hurt me so much?”

“I’m sorry. For everything. I’m sorry for killing Bubaigawara. I’m sorry for not saying his name when I admitted it in front of the nation. I’m sorry that I said I was just trying to collect information.” His apology is genuine, and you can sense his own pain through his words. “It’s not even entirely true.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was spending lots of time with you to try and collect information, but I also enjoyed being with you. You really were my first kiss, and I don’t regret anything else.”

You can see the honesty in his eyes. The scars on his face seem more prominent, and it ages him slightly. He’s not the same charismatic young hero who was stuck arguing with a security guard at the Paranormal Liberation Front hideout just to get into the cafeteria. The man before you now has stared death in the face more than once, and he’s trying to move forward the same way everyone else keeps urging you to.

“When I confronted him, I told Bubaigawara that I would help him start a new life after he paid for his crimes. He refused to abandon his friends, just like you. That’s why I pardoned you and hired you. So, you could start a new life, and raise our baby happily, whether or not I was actually in your life.”

“Then, why are you trying so hard to actually be in my life?”

“Because… I really care about you. I always have. Besides, I’m not going to be like my father and abandon his child. Like I said, I want us to work as a team.”

“I understand,” you reply.

“There’s one more thing,” he adds. “I supported you with your addition to the expanded Hero Billboard Chart, but it has shaken the public more than what was anticipated. A lot of reports are saying that the people demand an apology from you.”

“That’s crazy, what do I even need to apologize for?”

“It’s not about anything that you did. It’s just a chance to ease the minds of the public.”

“That’s so Japanese style.” You huff.

“Think about it some more. I can help you write the apology too.”

“People will still spread rumors. Even if I apologize, they will still demand that it’s not enough.”

“Perhaps, but it also gives you the chance to face them honestly. Think of it as another step forward,” he says.

You're quiet, thinking the whole thing over. He said he wants to be a team…

“If you want to be there, then I need you there entirely,” you tell him.

“What do you mean?”

“It means actually coparenting. Be here for me for the pregnancy. Be there when the baby is born. And don’t back out and abandon me like you did that day.”

“You have all of me. But you do know that women undergo labor alone, right?”

“What?”

“Typically, the baby’s father isn’t present during delivery. Not in Japan, at least.”

“Well, fuck your cultural customs this one time. You’re asking me to go on national television and issue an apology for—something, I don’t know—to do what is Japanese custom just to ease the minds of the public. After everything you put me through, your ass better be right next to me when I give birth, and you better be holding me hand the whole time.”

He laughs despite your harshness. “Okay, okay. That’s fair. I’ll help you with your apology speech, and I’ll be there to hold your hand when you go into labor.”

You huff again. “Good.”

“Alright. Now, let me get you home. It’s too hot for you to be outside for so long.”

Shouto waits for you outside of Central Hospital. He stands next to Endeavor and a tall woman with white hair who you assume to be his mother. It’s weird seeing Endeavor wearing normal clothes—comfortable ones too. It doesn’t suit him at all. When he sees you, he waves politely for you to come over.

“This is my mom,” he introduces.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Yagi Asuka.” You bow politely as you introduce yourself. It’s still weird for you to say, but you hope it will grow on you more over time.

“It’s good to meet a friend of my sons’. I’ve heard a lot about you from Shouto,” his mom says.

You feel your face heat up slightly and you press your hand to your cheek. “I didn’t know he talked about me.”

“Just good things.” Shouto smiles softly.

“Uh, hi, Endeavor-san,” you greet him awkwardly, forcing yourself to bow politely to him as well.

Endeavor greets you back with the same discomfort. Despite being a man with a fire quirk, his demeanor is cold and stern.

“Are you ready?” Shouto asks.

“No, but to be honest I don’t think I ever will be,” you tell him.

“We won’t have long, so I’ll let you talk to him the whole time.”

“Are you sure? I know it’s important for you and your family to talk to him too.”

“Dad keeps his promise to come every day, but we agreed that it’s important for you to speak with Touya-nii too.”

“Thanks,” you say awkwardly to Endeavor. You turn to Shouto and whisper to him, “Are they going in with us?”

“I thought it would be best for you to go in alone, if you want,” he says. “We’re going to wait outside the room.”

Your heart races at the thought. Endeavor checks in with the front staff and they guide everyone down to where Dabi is being held. Every step feels like you’re walking a mile. You can hear every footstep echoing off of the sterile tile under your feet. It rings in your ears as your heart races with adrenaline. It feels like an hour until you finally get to the secure room where he’s been hidden away from the world.

“A word of warning, he doesn’t look like how you remember him,” Endeavor says.

“I figured—”

“You can’t even imagine it. So just drop all of your expectations.”

You don’t even know if you have any expectations. You’ve tried to prepare yourself for the worst, but you can’t even begin to imagine what the worst could be. Your stomach drops even further in anticipation. The hospital staff presses some code into a screen on a panel outside of the room. When the doors open, you turn to Shouto who gives you a reassuring nod before you step inside.

Seeing Dabi makes you sick to your stomach. He’s stationed upright in some high-tech cylinder. Various tubes run in and out of his body—a machine beeping, keeping him just barely alive. He’s wrapped head to toe in gauze, and the few places where his skin is exposed looks fully charred—if it even is his skin. He’s caged in a metal contraption preventing him from moving or attempting to use his quirk. It seems redundant, considering he’s hardly even alive in this state. Metal rods pierce his scalp and around different points on his face, holding him together like a science experiment. His hair is completely gone, as is the skin around his mouth, exposing his teeth completely. His right arm is entirely gone as well, and you wonder how he managed to sustain that wound—the rest of his body seems explainable.

The guard in the room speaks to you, “He usually wakes up around the same time each day, but you could end up waiting for a while.”

“It’s okay. I’ll wait as long as I need,” you tell him.

He gets you a chair to sit in, which you’re grateful for. You would think that with each passing minute your nerves would calm down, but your heart still beats heavily in your chest. Your mind races as you scramble to figure out what to say. You know that when he wakes up, you’ll have only a few minutes to talk to him. 

What if I freeze and nothing comes out? What if I forget how to speak Japanese? What if only Korean or something comes out? Or worse…what if his condition is so bad he doesn’t even recognize me anymore? I’ve changed so much, what if I’m just a stranger to him now?

You wait in the room for nearly forty minutes until he wakes up. He groans as he regains consciousness, but a chuckle befalls his lips when he notices you.

 “I’m surprised,” he croaks. His voice is hoarse and barely audible.

“Da—Touya…” You manage to swallow the lump in your throat. “I have a lot to tell you.”

“I… Don’t have… time.”

“I’m pregnant.” It seems like that’s the best place to start. 

He wheezes as a soft laugh escapes him. “How?”

“Well, I-I did what you said a-and tried to trust me. I mean, get Hawks to trust me. I tried to get Hawks to trust me. I wanted to trust him too. Back then.”

“You—” The machine tracking his heart rate beats a little faster.

The guard begins to scold you. “Don’t rile him up, or else I’ll have to escort you out.”

“Touya, calm down. It was a while ago. Before the raid on our headquarters.”

It takes a minute, but the machine slows to its regular rhythm, and he mutters, “You… seeing him?”

“Seeing him? You mean meeting with him? Not romantically, if that’s what you’re asking. He gave me a job, but I’ve kept a firm distance with him.” 

At least until today… you think as an afterthought.

“Good… traitor.”

You’re not sure if he’s referring to Hawks, or if he’s calling you a traitor. It makes your heart sink. “I’m sorry. I have to work hard to give my baby a good life. I want to be a good mother.”

“You… will…” His voice trails off.

You continue to fill the space, just trying to talk to him as much as you can. “Did you know, there’s an old belief that being pregnant with a girl will steal the mother’s beauty.” You force an awkward laugh, trying to ease the pain that radiates from your heart throughout the rest of your body.

“Not true.”

His response catches you by surprise. You were expecting him to swear at you or call you an idiot for letting another idiot knock you up, but he doesn’t. He seems genuine, and serious, this response much calmer than his others.

“I don’t know how much I can tell you without causing an emotional response. It’s all kind of crazy.”

He hums softly, indicating that he’s listening.

“All For One kidnapped me and gave me a quirk. So, if you thought I wasn’t quirkless, then you were right.”

“Knew… it.”

“It’s a really crazy story. I’ll have to explain it all later.”

If you can make it that long…

“All Might adopted me, and Hawks gave me a job working for the Public Safety Commission. I know I’m a traitor, but I’m hoping that with money and resources I can try to do something to make a positive change.”

“What… plan?”

“To be honest, I don’t have one yet. But as soon as I figure it out, I’ll come right back here and tell you.”

He hums again, his eyes fluttering as he fights to stay awake.

You continue, “I know we don’t have much time, but please keep fighting for your life. I want you to meet my daughter someday. So please, if there’s any spite left in you, keep living. I want you to see the world I will create. I want you to be there with me!”

You’re unsure if your words even reach his ears as his eyes fall closed once again.

“That’s enough,” the attending guard says. “Let his family know they can come back tomorrow.”

You're quickly ushered out as the hospital staff tend to him. Shouto and his parents are waiting idly outside of the room, just as Shouto said they would be. A sudden wave of exhaustion hits you, and you want to scream about how unfair everything is. You want to break down and bawl—to run back into that room and cry at the helm of Touya’s living coffin and demand answers for why he would do that to himself. 

“Are you okay?” Shouto places his hand on your back, and it snaps you back to the present.

“Huh?”

“How did it go? What did you say to him?”

“I don’t know.”

You’re not lying. It all happened so fast—seeing him was so shocking—it’s like your brain didn’t even register what was happening until it was over. 

And now it’s over.

And you haven’t even had a moment to really calm down and collect your thoughts.

“I warned you,” Endeavor says. “There’s nothing you could’ve done to mentally or emotionally prepare for it. That’s why I face him every day. So, I can truly understand the consequences of my actions.”

The urge to spit on him overwhelms you. You want to curse him out for being such a bastard of a father to drive his son to that madness. You couldn’t imagine it before you were pregnant, but now the feeling really sinks in. Part of you even understands Hawks’s desire to be in the picture and help you raise the baby. Without thinking, you place your hand on your stomach.

However, Shouto notices. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. I want to go home,” you tell him.

Endeavor eyes you. “This must be extremely distressing for you. It’s important for you to rest.”

It’s obvious how he chooses his words that makes part of you wonder if Hawks did eventually tell him about the baby.

“Yeah,” you agree. “It’s been quite emotionally distressing. You know, after being bombarded with news about how great it is that my friends are dead and the heroes who killed them saved the day. Seeing one of the few remaining friends I have left on his deathbed is pretty emotionally exhausting.”

Your words bite, and you can see how they sting Shouto a little. You regret it instantly, but Endeavor looks away. 

“I know it’s hard for you. So, if you ever want to come talk to Touya, it’s okay,” he says.

Endeavor has given up fighting. He’s traded heroics for a false sense of fatherhood, but it’s too late. He knows this. Everyone in the room knows it. Yet, he doesn’t give up trying to right a wrong he should’ve never created in the first place.

“I’m not going to thank you,” you tell him.

“I know. I’m not looking for gratitude. You deserve to see him. I’ll notify the hospital staff as well, so you can come and go freely.”

You nod as Shouto’s hand finally leaves your back.

“Let’s go,” he says.

The walk out of the hospital is even quieter and more awkward than walking through the cemetery with Hawks. Death lingers in each place—one where your friends wait for their passing, and the other where they’re already gone. Home is the only place where you can safely mourn without disturbance. It’s the only place where you are free to really process it all—behind the quiet walls of your bedroom with your door shut, or alone in the shower with steaming hot water to cloud any semblance of tears. In that place, you’re safe to explore the memories of those you love without the lingering eyes or judgement of anyone else.

And that’s what you need—home.

Tag list: @janex12 @xxjesshuxx @evalineplayz19 @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @failuredecore @rwura @nyxnightshade7656 @OFriskBitzO

Chapter 10 ⬅️🐦➡️ Chapter 12

Chapter m.list

This work is copyright ©️ 2024 chaos-night. Do not re-upload!

I can't stopppp (⁠╯⁠°⁠□⁠°⁠）⁠╯⁠︵⁠ ⁠┻⁠━⁠┻

HAPPY (late, sorry 😭) BDAY MY BOY

i just noticed I forgot his earring 🥲

Some photos I took of this pretty boy eheh in Natlan

save me your grace.....your grace save me......

Scars

Contents: post-war. Hurt/comfort. Fluff. Very sappy.

Word count: 1.8k

Pairing: Hawks x reader

“I look…sick,” Keigo mumbled, looking in the bathroom mirror hanging over the sink. You were both getting ready for bed, and you almost choked on toothpaste as you brushed your teeth when he said that. You rinsed out your mouth and glanced into the same mirror he was staring into. You didn’t see what he saw, you knew that much.

Sure, suppose you looked hard enough his skin was paler, and dark circles under his eyes from a lack of sleep. In that case, his now often night terrors waking the both of you up at ungodly hours of the morning-, the red angry scar that ran down from the peak of his cheek to his neck and exploding across his back where his wings used to reside. Angel wings stained with blood that you used to love to run your fingers through so much now gone, leaving only red scar tissue behind on his once unblemished skin. And he had a problem with it all, you knew he did. But you didn’t; you didn’t take issue with a single thing about him.

“I think you look handsome,” You insist, kissing the scar on his cheek gently, your hand gently running up and down his bicep. “C’mon, we need to put your scar cream on and blow dry your hair. I don’t want you going to bed with wet hair, you might catch a cold.” You giggle softly but there’s no trace of amusement on his face causing your smile to falter.

You take his hand, pulling him back into the bedroom, the wide windows that encompassed most of the left wall gave a view of the expanse of the entire city below. Rain gently tapped against the glass and the moonlight made a soft light in the room. You sat him down on the edge of the bed and flicked on the lamp that was on the nightstand, warm light illuminating the room better so you could see what you were doing.

You gently pulled out the drawer of the nightstand and took out a tub of off-white cream that the hospital had sent you home with for his scars to ensure they healed the best they could. Of course, they’d never leave his skin, it was important to make sure they healed properly to lighten the color of them and prevent any possible infection and such.

You try to take his hand in yours, always working on the scars on his palms first and then his cheek along with the small scar on his forehead and working to his back which required the most care. But he pulls his hand away stubbornly, making you sigh.

“I don’t like the way it feels…it’s too thick, it never rubs into my skin fully and it’s uncomfortable.” He complains. You understood, you didn’t like when your scented lotions were too thick because it also seemed like they never actually rubbed in fully. But there’s a difference between wanting to put scented lotion on and needing to put a cream on for burn scars. He debated you every time. It was practically part of the routine. It was more concerning when he didn’t debate, that was when you had to check up on him to make sure he was doing okay.

“I know you don’t, but it needs to go on. Please, for me?” You plead softly, kissing his cheek softly. You watched as he thought it through before he huffed softly and turned his head from you with a soft whine.

“Fine…You can do it…” He pouts. It’s so cute but you don’t push your luck, you could shower him with affection in a little. In a way, this was affection you supposed. Take care of him like this, how he did with you before the war. You took care of each other, it was mutual. That’s what you do for people you love. You and Keigo have a special kind of love.

You slab the ointment on his open palm, rubbing it into the lines of his palm. If you could palm read you’d say something sappy about heart line or fate line. But you don’t, so you stay silent as you focus on gently massaging his palm. When you’re done you glance at him, his soft gaze focused on your hand in his and you brush your thumb against his knuckle and his eyes snap up to yours.

“Hey,” You smile softly.

“Hey, pretty,” Keigo whispers, moving in to kiss your neck but you stop him. Your palm is flat against his chest.

“Not yet, later. Let me finish first, baby.” You giggle softly. He was always quick to try and distract you before you got the scar on his cheek. Even if he had to play a little dirty by trying to distract you with sweet words and kisses.

He pouted, about to protest before you gave him a quick peck on his cheeks and quickly put some ointment on his cheek before he could stop you. You can see the instant look of irk on his face. But you make fast work of gently rubbing it into his cheek and down to his neck. Moving behind him.

He was already shirtless from the shower you both took, only in his boxers which were old and worn barely hanging on by the seam. Maybe it was a thing with just Keigo, or maybe all men, But he clung to boxers and socks until they were nothing more than a string. You had to harass him to toss them and then drag him shopping to pick up new pairs.

It didn’t make it any more dignifiable that said boxers were quite literally his own merch, a limited edition thing his PR did. The same design as his belt on the waistband of them. If you had any say it was a little tacky but whatever made him happy, and people loved them. No more of that. Which saddened you. No more fun brand deals and such. But at least he still had his modeling gigs, now as the president of the commission. Which meant he wore more suits in them, focused on being more professional and sexy and not just ‘hot blonde playboy-esque’.

You weren’t complaining.

You took a moment to appreciate the expanse of his back. The muscles. His shoulder blades. You knew he was self-conscious of the scar tissue from the burns he got when his wings burned off which are now completely gone. But you didn’t mind. You missed his wings sometimes, of course, you both did.

How they’d protectively wrap around you whenever he got a little jealous. How they used to puff up whenever you’d kiss him or do something he deemed cute. His wings were a core part of him, his personality almost. An extension of his body language. And they were gone now. But that didn’t mean you stopped loving him.

You make fast work on massaging the cream onto his back scars, going quickly to avoid making him uncomfortable for too long.

When you finish you gently trace your finger down his spine and giggle when his posture straightens out. Leaning over to kiss his cheek and getting up to grab a towel from the bathroom. You drape the towel over his head, drying his hair with it. You gently comb your hands through his damp hair for a little while, sitting in silence as you play with his hair before you suck in a breath and pull out the blow dryer from under the bed. Plugging it in and taking your time until his blonde hair is poofy and fluffed up before you straighten it out with your fingers so it’s not as messy.

“All done,” You hum, flicking the dryer off putting it back in its box, and sliding it under the bed again.

“Thank you…c’mere.”

You knew what he wanted.

When he still had those bird avian instincts that accompanied his quirk, he’d always preen you. Sometimes when he was bored or if you had come home in a rough state. It was soothing for him, and you alike. Even now that those instinctual feelings left him, it was his way of having a semblance of normalcy even now.

You found purchase on his lap, and he went to work. His hands straightened out your hair and messed with your shirt until it sat evenly on your shoulders and he was satisfied.

You yelped softly when he pulled you up further onto the bed, pulling the covers up over your body and holding your back against his chest.

“I wanna see you,” You whine softly in protest, hearing him sigh as his arm leaves its tight hold on your waist and you turn over to look at him face to face. You lean far over him to flick off the lamp and then lay back down, the only light filtering through the window casting a light blue hue across his face from the moonlight.

He was so pretty.

You wondered what was going on in his head sometimes. You only knew what he told you, or what you could infer from how he acted.

“We should get married…” He whispered.

You stayed silent in thought for a moment before snuggling closer to him.

“Why now?” You ask.

“Why not now? We have peace…or at least we’re in the process of rebuilding it…I finally have some time on my hands. I want to slow down a little. With you. Maybe make a little family, a couple of chicks running around. But that’s an…entirely different conversation for another night.”

Your cheeks flush at the mention of children, not like it’s scandalous or anything but still. You lay in thought for a few seconds. Thinking it through. He has a point; you can both go slow now. Finally. After being the fastest man he can finally take a breath. So it makes sense he’s becoming a bit more family-oriented. And you guessed after everything he’s been through, his multiple near-death experiences. No wonder he wanted to marry you. You’d been together long enough.

“Okay…but just…propose to me properly, yeah?” You smile softly when he chuckles and nods. His hand comes to gently pet your hair.

“Yeah, I will…It’ll be kind of a surprise…I’ll find a way to make it a surprise, which will be hard since I already spoiled it but still…I’ll make it feel special. I’ll make you feel special because you are.”

“I look forward to it,” You giggle softly when he begins to pepper kisses all over your face before his lips lock with yours for a few seconds before he pulls back, tugging you close against him like you’re a stuffed animal or toy.

“Get some rest, baby. You have a long day of work tomorrow.” You whisper softly, hearing him yawn softly before he hums in agreement.

“Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you.”

“I love you too,”

Just wanted to share this (pretty heehhe) dabi I drew in class (so damn proud about this one)

Don't ever hesitate. Reblog this. TUMBLR RULE. When you see it, REBLOG IT.

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