she/her. 25. When I get inspiration, I write sometimes. Erik Killmonger posts/writings – #erik can get it idgaf Haikyuu writings – #coco writes haikyuu BNHA/MHA writings - TBA
Creating a villain is a delicate art, much like crafting a masterpiece. To ensure your antagonist leaps off the page with depth, consider these essential elements for your villain checklist:
Motivation: Every great villain is driven by a potent motivation, one that fuels their actions and sets them on their dark path. Explore their backstory and unearth the core reason behind their villainy. Are they seeking power, revenge, redemption, or something more sinister?
Complexity: Gone are the days of one-dimensional villains twirling mustaches and cackling maniacally. Infuse your antagonist with layers of complexity and nuance. Perhaps they possess redeeming qualities or wrestle with inner conflicts that humanize their actions.
Flaws and Vulnerabilities: Despite their nefarious intentions, villains should be flawed beings with vulnerabilities. These weaknesses not only add depth to their character but also create opportunities for conflict and growth throughout your story.
Backstory: Delve into your villain's past to uncover formative experiences that shaped their present disposition. Trauma, betrayal, or societal pressures can all contribute to their descent into villainy, providing rich narrative fodder for exploration.
Goals and Ambitions: Just as heroes strive for noble objectives, villains pursue their own twisted goals with fervor and determination. Define what your antagonist hopes to achieve and the lengths they're willing to go to attain it, even if it means sacrificing everything in their path.
Antagonistic Traits: From cunning intellect to ruthless brutality, equip your villain with traits that make them a formidable adversary for your protagonist. Consider how their strengths and weaknesses complement each other, creating dynamic conflicts that propel your story forward.
Relationships and Alliances: Villains don't operate in isolation; they forge alliances, manipulate allies, and cultivate relationships to further their agendas. Develop the connections your antagonist shares with other characters, be they loyal minions or reluctant collaborators, to add depth to their character dynamics.
Moral Justification (from their perspective): While their actions may be abhorrent to society, villains often believe they're justified in their pursuits. Explore your antagonist's moral code and the twisted logic that rationalizes their behavior, offering readers insight into their twisted worldview.
Arc of Transformation: Just as protagonists undergo arcs of growth and change, villains should experience their own journey of transformation. Whether it's redemption, downfall, or something altogether unexpected, chart the evolution of your antagonist throughout the narrative.
Memorable Traits: Give your villain distinctive traits or quirks that leave a lasting impression on readers. Whether it's a chilling catchphrase, a distinctive appearance, or a haunting backstory, give your antagonist elements that linger in the minds of your audience long after they've closed the book.
A drooping posture can convey a sense of defeat and sadness. Keep shoulders slightly slouched, and avoid standing tall or with a straight back.
Facial expressions play a crucial role. A downturned mouth, furrowed brows, and a distant or vacant gaze can all indicate inner turmoil and heartache.
Men often avoid eye contact when they're feeling vulnerable. If you're experiencing heartbreak, you might find yourself looking down or away when speaking to others.
Restlessness can manifest in various forms, such as tapping fingers, bouncing legs, or constantly shifting positions. This indicates inner turmoil and an inability to find peace.
Movements may become slower and less purposeful when someone is experiencing emotional pain. This can include gestures like reaching for objects or adjusting clothing.
Men in heartbreak might withdraw from social interactions or participate less actively in conversations. They may seem physically present but emotionally distant.
Deep, heavy sighs are often involuntary reactions to emotional distress. They signify a release of tension and an underlying sense of sadness.
Heartbreak can drain one's energy. You may notice a decrease in enthusiasm, vitality, and overall liveliness in how you carry yourself and engage with others.
Crossing arms, hunching shoulders forward, or clasping hands in front of the body can create a barrier between oneself and others, reflecting emotional guardedness and pain.
Gestures may become less expressive and more restrained. Hand movements may be smaller in scale and less animated compared to usual.
not enough time to constitute a generation but people born from 1997-2002 are a specific flavor of individual who just started being an adult when the pandemic started and are therefore hyper aware of how things “should” be and are all generally disillusioned and tired… anyone else here feeling this
it’s cool because you’ll look to people who are younger than you with unshakable dread because it’s like CHS (covid high school) fucked them up and they have no idea bad things have gotten and then you look to people who are older than you like “WHY AREN’T YOU TRYING ANYMORE” and then you look to your peers like do you want to hit a blinker and go to denny’s later
Having your 6 year old laptop die on you in the middle of playing the sims. Now the laptop is questionably able to be revived, as you see all the updates for the the sims and sim’s modder coming out with new content. It’s month 2 without my laptop….
Watched this anime on Netflix within 24hrs and I have so many mixed feelings. Lemme just say them and if you’re willing to listen, well read….great! (Possible spoilers??)
FIRST, I hateddddddd this show for the fact how it got me so invested. I know that makes no sense but it honestly was so heart-tugging and also thought provoking as a viewer. (I actually found myself sneaking to watch an episode at work…ahem- ANYWAYS). The way this anime series was written and portrayed was utterly amazing. Honestly when I feel like I’ve been to a funeral at the end of a series that means it was a great show and that is due to a plethora of creativity, writing and consideration of important themes.
SECOND, Yoshimune???? My girl- excuse me, liege came in with a mission and I loved every minute of it! And it was literally minutes because we didn’t see much of her….I was quite upset about that. I actually believe I overall like her more than Iemitsu/Chie….*shrugs* not that I did not enjoy Chie and her development throughout the series but in general, Yoshimune brightened up the series in a way we didn’t really see after we truly delved into Ooku history (which was like episode 3-10).
THIRD, the complex history of the Ooku….was a whirlwind of emotions, politics, and culture/tradition for sure. But the history did show a bit of realism even in the face of an alternative history of what-could-have-been. As a viewer, certain questions came in my head like…“what if no one challenged tradition in the face of desperation to survive?” to “what if Arikoto and Iemitsu/Chie could have just had that one hope among them as a couple in that bedchamber become a reality…?” How much would any of that changed the way things played out? It makes you consider how truly people’s actions and responses have brought good and bad consequences to our world today…not just Edo in the series.
(I think this is the last point…..?)
FOURTH, Arikoto and Chie honestly did what they felt was right for others which is selfless in ways that are absolutely admirable…but also, there’s things I absolutely wish they would have done differently. Watching the screen and happy for them one minute and on the verge of tears the next is a feat not every writer can do. Outside looking in….you, as a viewer, can see cracks in their logic…but then, it makes you have sympathy and maybe even empathy for their choices driven by the sake of their beliefs and those who greatly influenced them. It’s such a touching, romantic, but incredibly SAD story between them but one thing was always clear is that they were deeply in love with each other until the end. ❤️
I really liked what you did kirishima , would it be ok to request Yandere kirishima who slowly falls for the reader ? Kinda like a spotted mind , a slow burn Yandere (seriously love what you did with Shinso their ) hope this ok if not no worries 💗
“When you stop smashing your way through half the city’s architecture, we will.” She didn’t look up from her clipboard to see the sheepish look washing over the hero’s face, cheeks nearly red as his hair, from previous exertion or embarrassment, she didn’t know–didn’t care.
She sighed, but turned to oversee the construction workers picking their way through the rubble–Jesus Christ, this was going to cost a fortune.
She sent a mental apology to the poor insurance accountants who she was sure were as sick of these heroes as she was–nevermind the half-rate villain being led away in chains somewhere in the background, yelling obscenities and threats and contributing significantly to her growing headache. Annoying.
He trailed after her, “Hey, uh,” She spared him a cursory glance, and he swallowed, “Let me…I can totally help pay for this; it’s uh…the manly thing to do.” She rolled her eyes, turning back to watch a crowd gather at the borders of the police tape secured around what was left of the building and its surrounding area.
“That’s hardly necessary, sir–”
“We’ve been over this, call me–”
“Besides, if you were to personally pay for all the property damage you have committed, say, throughout your career,” She scribbled something down on the clipboard, before shoving it in his face, “You would owe the city approximately…this much.”
She swore his eyes nearly bulged out of his head, and was internally amused as he leaned down and followed zero after zero after zero on the paper with his finger. He stood suddenly, clearing his throat, and avoided her gaze.
“Well, I…” He sighed, searching for the words, “I’m sure I could–”
“Oi! Shitty hair,” His savior came in the form of a familiar gravelly voice, “Get your ass over here! I’m sick a’ these damn reporters.”
Letting out a sigh of relief, he gave her a brief nod before hurrying off to the hoards of adoring fans. She rolled her eyes, turning back to inspect the damage. Well…another day, another massive disaster to fix.
.♡.
“I swear if I have to see that chick one more time,” He huffed, downing his drink, “‘M not sure my manhood could take it.”
“You talkin’ about the Ice Queen again?” He glanced towards the peppy blonde man shoving his way through the doors, and into the bar.
“That insurance lady?” The black haired man at his side questioned, “Ain’t it the third time this month she’s been up your shit?” He laughed, “She must be hurtin’ for it, huh?”
He huffed, averting his gaze, “Hardly,” A shiver passed down his spine in remembrance, “Everytime I see her I feel like I’m getting scolded by my grade school teacher or something.”
“Real sexy grade school teacher, though, huh?” The lightning blonde jeered.
He rolled his eyes, “It’s not like I’m the only hero who’s knocked down a building or two, right?” He turned to the other blonde who scoffed.
“Don’t look at me,” He downed a shot, “I avoid the bitch like the plague; I don’t need another asshole slappin’ me on the wrists fer doin’ my job–press does that for her.”
“I just…” He huffed, “I don’t like that she doesn’t like me,” He turned to his friends, “I’m…I’m a likable guy, aren’t I?”
He was met with laughs, making his cheeks burn as he groaned. He waited as they settled before downing another drink. The raven-haired man ruffled his hair in mock comfort.
“Guess you’ll find out just how likable at this year’s Hero Billboards, yeah?”
.♡.
The universe really did like playing some cruel jokes on him lately, huh? He stared up at the soulless glass building that towered over him–a few signatures missing from the insurance forms. Ha. Of course. Hero work ain’t always takin’ down bad guys and savin’ princesses in their towers, kids.
He huffed, and forced himself inside, hands clenching and unclenching as he stood in the elevator, watching the floors climb. In and out.
God, why was he so nervous? A flash of those dull, condescending eyes; he was surprised she hadn’t turned him to stone the second she’d met his gaze. Weren’t women supposed to be meek and soft?
The lady at the reception desk had certainly seemed so; the way she batted her eyelashes, voice coated in sugar–yeah, that made sense to him–when they looked at him all starry-eyes and empty heads.
He tried to imagine the Ice Queen like that–she did have pretty eyes–what would happen if she looked at him with something other than irritation–nope, too creepy, get that out of my head.
He passed by the main room: dozens of nameless heads and shoulders, hunched over their desks, typing away at computers from within their gray cubicles. Depressing. Turning down a hallway he was met with a row of doors–where was her office, again?
The sound of laughter cut through his thoughts. Children’s laughter? As if on cue, a rush of tiny, unsteady footsteps padded across the floor and straight into him–well, his legs. A soft thud and ‘oof’ brought his gaze down.
“I’m sorry! So sorry, Mister Hero!” A small boy was rubbing his head from his fallen place back on the floor. He stood, brushing himself off, before placing his small hands against the man’s legs, mimicking a sort of soothing motion.
“So sorry. This feel better? All better now?”
He went to respond, but a familiar click of heels interrupted, and the Ice Queen was standing in front of him, leaning down to face the child as a sigh escaped from her lips.
Before she could speak he opened his mouth; he really didn’t want to watch her scold the little boy for being…well, a little boy, “It was an accident,” He ruffled the child’s hair, and the latter giggled, “Really, no harm done.”
She glanced up at him from her position crouched on the floor, brows furrowing as her head tilted in confusion, before turning back to the child, “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”
Oh? This was strange. The look on her face wasn’t stern, and her voice was quieter, softer. Kind of…sweet? He must be hearing things.
“Nope!” The boy popped his ‘p’, giving a big, toothy smile, “But Mister Hero got a boo boo; you gotta kiss it better!”
His face burned. It was hard to imagine anyone, forget that it was a child, talking so warmly with the woman in front of him.
“Mister Hero’s a tough guy,” She told the boy, “Besides, I can only kiss your boo boos better.”
“Really?”
“Mhmm,” She stood, taking his small hand in her own, “Really. But if you keep running off like that, I’ll run out of kisses. So be more careful. We have to save them for when you really need ‘em, okay?”
“Okay!”
She turned to face him, clearing her throat as she averted her gaze. No. She couldn’t be. Was the Ice Queen, of all people, flustered?
“Sorry for the inconvenience.” She muttered, bowing slightly before motioning with her head towards an office door in the far corner, “I have all the documents in my office; shouldn’t take long.”
He blinked, opening his mouth to respond, but she turned on her heel, shoes clicking down the hallway as the little boy swung their interlocked hands to and fro. Cute.
She held the door open for him, though he still had to hunch as he walked through the opening. He took in the scene: neat mahogany desk, floor to ceiling windows, shelf, children’s toys littering the floor–children’s toys? The little boy detached from the woman, diving towards one of the brightly colored stuffed animals.
The man maneuvered his way towards the desk, slipping slightly when his foot met a toy car. She caught his arm, eyes still avoiding his own, and her face twisted in a frown.
“The daycare closes early on weekends, no one to watch him, I–” She swallowed, arm pulling from his own the second he collected himself, “It’s not usually this messy,” She huffed the words as if they were shameful to admit before composing herself, shaking her head a bit. “The papers are on the desk.” She ushered him forward, sifting through her drawers before taking out a pen, pressing it into his hand.
He cleared his throat, nodding, “It’s–That’s fine,” He leaned down to sign, striking up conversation to fill the painful silence between them, “Is this your, uh, is this your son?”
She shot him a sharp look, and he was sure if looks could kill he’d burst to flames that very moment. He swallowed, flipping the page to add another signature. Through his periphery, he caught sight of a look exchanged between the woman and child before she sighed.
“Yes.” He waited a moment for her to continue only to be met with silence. Wow. A real open book, wasn’t she?
Flipping through the pages, he double checked the signatures. Sighing, he stood, nodding to her, “Sorry about that, thought the agency’d taken care a’ all the paperwork.”
She rolled her eyes, gathering them in her hands, scanning through the pages before taking something from her desk drawer, and stamping the top page. Setting it in a file on the desk, she met his gaze.
“Thank you,” She cleared her throat, “In the future, hopefully we don’t end up in a situation needing to fill out more paperwork.”
Geez, that's cold. “Yeah, uh, sorry again.” He turned to leave, but a tug on his pant leg caught his attention.
“Hey, hey, Mister Hero,” The little boy waved a toy car in his hand, “Wanna play cars?”
“He has things to do, baby,” The woman interrupted, “I can play with you all you want later.”
“But you’re working now!” He huffed, “Please, please, just for a little–”
“I don’t mind.” He surprised himself and her with the words, but a glance to the little boy’s face brought a smile to his own. He always did like kids.
She looked between them, hesitant, teeth chewing her lip before speaking, “It’s really–you don’t have to. Really, it’s–it’s okay.” Who knew she could sound sheepish. He was learning a lot about the Ice Queen today, it seemed.
He plopped on the floor, cross legged as he took the car handed to him, flashing her a smile, “You kidding?” He turned back to the child, “I love playin’ cars.”
The little boy squealed in delight, and in his periphery he caught sight of a soft look in her eyes, “Thank you.” It was quiet, but the ghost of a smile on her face made something in his chest do a little jump.
.♡.
“You received a package from the insurance agency today, sir.”
He glanced towards his secretary, brows furrowed. God, what did he do this time? He rubbed a hand down his face, groaning, but she continued.
“It’s strange,” She tapped her chin, “There was a note attached; I think it was from that lady that doesn’t like you,” A mischievous smile on her lips, “I left it on your desk.”
“Great. Thanks.” He trudged down the hallway to his office; it was too early in the morning for this.
As he pushed the door open he caught sight of it: wrapped neatly in red colored paper, a thin ribbon tying it together. Huh. There was a neat little note attached, his hero name written in pretty cursive on the front.
Please accept this food as thanks.
I appreciate you humoring my son; he really enjoyed spending time with you.
He also wanted me to inform you that you’ve become his new favorite hero.
I was unaware of your food preferences, but I hope this is sufficient.
Only the Ice Queen could manage to make such a kind gesture seem impersonal. Still, he found himself smiling; underneath all that frost and cold she really was a cute little thing, wasn’t she? It was signed with her name at the bottom, and he realized he hadn’t known it until now; it was kind of pretty, he thought.
He pulled the ribbon from the box, and the paper fell away to reveal a neatly stacked bento box. Peeling the top layer, he was met with a mouthwatering smell. Meat. Fancy little dishes prepared delicately, with care. The other levels contained vegetables and sweets, all meticulously decorated. It was a practical gift, he supposed, but still, she’d taken the time to cook him a meal.
How…womanly of her.
.♡.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
She didn’t think she’d ever sprinted so fast in her life, sure she might break a heel, though, not entirely bothered considering the circumstances. A villain attack. At a goddamn preschool. At her son’s goddamn preschool. Fuck.
There it was. Cordoned off with yellow police tape, a crowd was gathering outside the gates, reporters or parents or both, she didn’t really care.
“Kenta! Kenta! My son–have you seen my son? Please–” She elbowed her way to the front of the crowd, flagging down a police officer stationed outside.
“Ma’am, please step back. There is an active villain threat in–”
“My son’s in there, please.”
“There are a lot of parents here; if you’d just step back–”
There was a crash that sounded like a wrecking ball hitting pavement, and everyone watched with bated breath as one of the walls to the building crumbled away, bricks splitting and breaking from the force.
As the dust settled, she watched as a massive figure stepped from the rubble. Wait a minute. Is that…? He was carrying kids from his arms and shoulders, some hanging on with their hands as they dangled from his limbs–he looked like a fucking jungle gym–
“Mama! Mama! Look who’s here!” The unmistakable voice of her son pulled her from her thoughts. From atop the hero’s shoulder, Kenta was waving his arms, giggling as he called to her.
“All clear!” The man shouted, a sharp, toothy smile on his lips as he scanned the crowd, motioning with his head to the nearly collapsed building behind him, “He’s passed out in the southeast classroom, figured I’d gather the kids first.”
The police made their way into the building as he kneeled down to let the children race from the rubble, and into the arms of their parents. She ducked under the yellow tape, eyes set on the little boy sat on the hero’s shoulder.
“Heh. Sorry ‘bout the wall; couldn’t help the –oof!”
Without thinking, she threw her arms around his shoulders, on her tiptoes as she embraced her son, the other hand hooked around the man’s neck, pulling him downwards a bit into a hunch, so that she could reach.
She was shaking a little, and he wasn’t entirely sure where to put his hands, though, glad that she couldn’t see the red creeping up his neck and cheeks. Awkwardly, one of his hands came to pat her on the back, which seemed to bring her back to reality as she stumbled a bit aways from him.
She cleared her throat, holding out her hands, and he shifted so that the boy could shuffle into his mother’s arms.
She checked his face for marks, “Are you okay?” Inspecting his arms for any signs of cuts or bruises, “Did you get hurt?”
He gave a bright smile, “I’m okay!” He giggled a bit, and she set him down, letting him bounce in excitement on the ground, “You shoulda seen it, Mama! He was so cool; the bad guy was like–” He made an angry face, squaring his shoulders, and growled as he brought his hands into a fighting pose, “But then, but then, boom! And then–”
“I want to hear all about it, baby,” She smiled, “But let’s get you home first, yeah? You’ve got dirt all over you.”
“Mhmm mhmm, okay! But it makes me look cool, right?”
“Super cool,” She turned to the hero now, and he swallowed, willing the heat to die on his cheeks, “I’m sorry that I just–I didn’t mean to throw myself on you, but really, what you did–”
“Just the job,” He smiled, hand coming to sheepishly scratch his head, “Happy to do it, honest.”
“No,” she corrected, and he found himself holding his breath as he studied the intensity in her stare. But he didn’t feel like she’d turn him to stone; he kind of felt…warm? “Thank you. Really. I can’t ever repay you for this.”
“Well, you’re probably gonna have to deal with the insurance money and rebuild, so just add it to my tab, and I’ll call us even, yeah?”
There was a small smile on her face, “Consider your tab cleared.” Was his heart pumping so loudly from the adrenaline or because the quirk in her lips made her whole face brighter? Was that her quirk? Could she speed up his pulse, so that his heart beat out of his chest?
He went to say something, but the sound of his hero name being shouted over the police tape–reporters–interrupted.
He sighed, giving her a nod, “Well, duty calls,” He gave her one more glance as he walked away, “I’ll, uh, I’ll see you?” It sounded casual, but he found himself suddenly nervous.
“Well, if you keep smashing your way through half the city’s architecture, you will.” He didn’t know she had a sense of humor, but, spotting the playful glint in her eyes, he found it kind of…cute.
.♡.
“There’s someone here to see you, sir,” His secretary called as he stepped from the elevator, “It’s that insurance lady, again.” She wiggled her eyebrows a bit in teasing, and he found his face warming as he avoided her gaze. Another bento, maybe?
“Thanks, uh, you can let her in.”
“Oh, I already did,” There was a smug smile on her face, “She’s in your office.”
He groaned, ignoring her cheeky laugh as he made his way into his office.
“Oh!” She called after him, “The Commission called. They wanna know if you’re confirming for the Hero Billboards?”
He nodded, waving his hand in placation, “Yeah. I’ll be there.”
Pushing the door to his office open, he found himself staring at her profile; she was half turned away from him, gazing out the floor to ceiling windows, and he almost didn’t want to say anything, lest he disturb the peaceful look on her face.
His eyes wandered her figure; she really was a woman, wasn’t she? In every sense of the word. Remembering how she felt in his arms, soft too. Soft and small and pretty and womanly. His hands itched at his sides. How would it feel to hold her?
Squeezing the skin of her waist, brushing his thumbs over the bones of her hips; it’d be so easy to pick her up, hands sliding down a bit further, throwing her legs around his waist; she was already against the window; what other expressions could he see on her face, then? Shaking himself from his thoughts, he felt a bit embarrassed. But, he was a man; it was normal to think like this about a woman, right?
She caught sight of him as she turned, and immediately a new look took over her face; it wasn’t an expression he entirely enjoyed, however. She looked agitated, upset, and she squeezed at the fat of her arms as she crossed them, nervous.
“We need to talk.” She pulled something from her purse, unfurling it to reveal a tabloid magazine. More specifically, a picture slapped on the cover: the two of them embracing outside the pre-school, his hand placed on her back, making it look like an altogether domestic scene.
And the title: “THE STURDY HERO BREAKING DOWN WALLS AND BREAKING HEARTS; DON’T RIOT, GIRLS, BUT HE’S TAKEN!” Real creative.
He swallowed his nerves, laughing off the tension, “Yeah, I heard about that,” Avoiding her gaze, “I’m real sorry–the tabloids just print whatever sells, ya know?”
“Can you have them retract it?” He was almost offended with how quick she was to shoot it down, “Please,” Sensing his nerves, she sighed, gathering her thoughts, “Kenta is…He’s not ready for this, even if it is just tabloid gossip. Please, can you ask them to retract it?”
“I–”
“Or if not,” She began pacing, “Can you do an interview? Before this gets out of hand, it’d be best to clear things up.”
He approached her, taking her by the arms lightly to stop her pacing. She pulled from his grip, but stood still. He scanned her face as he looked down at her, and a thought too selfish crossed his mind. No. Don’t go there.
“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” He soothed her; this would be fine, “I’ll tell the press; you don’t gotta worry.”
She let out a sigh of relief, and he bit his tongue. Was it manly of him to just let it lie? In all those romance movies he watched, the guy always fought for the girl. He used whatever elaborate plots he could to show her he was the one. And, I mean, maybe it’d be good for both of them. He needed to figure out why he couldn’t look her in the eyes without imagining bending her over the nearest surface anymore.
“But,” He avoided her gaze, “I, uh, geez, this is embarrassing.”
She tilted her head, but motioned for him to continue.
“The, uh, you know the Hero Billboards are coming up soon?”
“Yes,” She squared her shoulders as her gaze turned suspicious, “What about it?”
“I think if, well, if I ask for a retraction before, it might tank my popularity ranking,” He swallowed, “Which, totally, is just a number–and not a big deal–I just, would you mind…is it unmanly of me to ask you if we could wait until it’s over to tell the press?”
There was a beat of silence, and he cursed himself in his mind. Of course she’s gonna say no. It’s the Ice Queen we’re talkin’ about. Just cause she’s got a kid, and she makes a killer tori katsu, and her ass bounces when she–
“Okay,” She sighed. What? She met his gaze, nodding, “I did say I could never repay you, didn’t I?”
“I don’t want you to feel like you have to–”
“But, um,” She swallowed, “Kenta was asking about you,” Avoiding his gaze, she cleared her throat, “Do you think you could, um, do you think you could take him out on patrol? Even just once, I think he’d…if it’s not too much trouble–”
God, she was fucking adorable.
“You kidding?” His lips split in a wide grin, “I’d be honored. He’s, uh, he’s a good kid. You’ve done good.”
“It’s a deal, then.” There was that soft smile again, and on cue, his heart sped its rhythm.
“It’s a deal.”
.♡.
The office felt strangely empty after she left. He couldn’t focus. The lights were too bright. His chair was lumpy. The font on the paperwork was too small. His pants didn’t fit right. Oh. His pants didn’t fit right.
He glanced around the office. It was fine, right? It’d just take a moment. Be real quick. Just to ease the tension. It’d help him focus after, for sure.
Fuck it.
He stood suddenly, shutting the blinds to his office; he was pent up. It was her fault to begin with, really. Settling into his chair, he let out a breath, hand creeping under the waistband of his pants, fingers trailing down from the black hairs to grip at the pulsating, desperate source of his current agony, feeling near immediate relief as he began to stroke.
He wanted to take her against the window, didn’t he?
Her thighs squeezing his waist as his fingers dug into the flesh of her ass, cock buried to the hilt inside what was undeniably warm and tight and hers. He’d fuck her deep and slow at first. Savor the feel of her wrapped around him. Make what she thought was hers irrefutably his; mold her pretty cunt to the shape of him. He wouldn’t be able to keep the pace though, ramming her against the glass walls for all of Japan to see, to hear her scream his name. How would she sound if he sunk his teeth into her neck? What would she call him?
Baby?
Love?
Daddy?
“Oh, fuck.” His thumb stroked the angry red tip threatening to burst in his pants, tightening his vice-grip, fingers flexing along the length. Up and down and up and down to the rhythm he’d fuck her to. Faster and Faster. Harder and harder.
Daddy, please! She’d take her lip between her teeth, try and fail to stifle the sounds he was forcing from her throat. A hand tangled in his hair, tugging to find some sense of relief as he hauled her over his desk to play with the jewel between her legs.
He’d leave a trail of bruises down her chest; take one of her pretty tits in his mouth, playing with the nipple on his tongue. Hips snapping roughly into hers as he felt her pulse quicken, breath choked as her hands came to clutch his shoulders, nails sinking in to ease the tension.
He’d make her beg for it.
“Tell Daddy what you want.” His eyes fell closed, hips bucking into his fist as he imagined it. He’d take his hand to her throat, fingers twitching at the feel of her pumping veins, thumb tracing her jaw as he watched doe eyes dilate. Lose all thought save for anything that had to do with him, and how he was fucking her, and how that feeling pooling in her gut was something only he could give her.
Please, Daddy, please! Let me cum. Can I cum?
She’d cry, pretty tears pooling in her eyes as she tried to hold on. Obey him. Please him. Cum for him. All for him.
“Yeah? You wanna cum? You think you deserve it?”
Yes! Please, Daddy! Please!
Her tits would rock from the force as his desk creaked to the rhythm below them. His tongue darting out to lick at his sharp, drooling canines, completely enamored with the feast moaning prettily underneath him.
He’d lean down, forcing his lips onto hers as his tongue explored inside, devouring the sounds from her throat. And he’d pull back once he was sure he could feel her tighten around him, hot air brushing against her lips when he finally released her.
“Cum for me, baby.”
He’d watch her eyes cross, mouth falling open as the knot in her stomach snapped. That Ice Queen exterior melted and soft and grateful. She’d whimper, and look up at him from under her butterfly lashes with hazy, pleasure-drunk eyes, lips bloated and hair sprawled beneath her like an angel’s halo.
“What do you say, baby?”
Thank you, Daddy. I love you.
Shit. Shit. Shit. He bit his lip, brows furrowing as the slick on his hand made his gut start to tingle. Fuck. His shoulders slumped as he caught his breath, surveying his mess. That’s alright, he thought.
It was her job to clean up his messes, wasn’t it?
.♡.
“Oh,” She blinked as she opened the door, “What time is it? Wasn’t I supposed to meet you at your office?”
Nervously, she glanced over her shoulder to a wall clock in the living room. He huffed an apologetic laugh, doing his best to ignore the way the apron wrapped snugly around her waist hugged her curves, and the splotches of flour that reminded him of the labors of a dutiful housewife.
“Nah, you’re good,” He motioned with his head to the boy sitting atop his shoulders, one hand steadying the child, “Kenta was hungry, and there isn’t much ‘sides energy drinks and granola bars at the agency.”
“We saw a whole buncha bad guys, Mama! They were tryna rob the bank, and–”
“You were inside a bank during a robbery?” He caught the sharp turn in her voice, and was quick to correct the child.
“He was safe behind the barricades,” She stepped aside to let them in, “Got a front row seat, right buddy?”
“Mhmm!” He set the child down, and Kenta raced towards the kitchen, “Smells good! What’s for dinner?”
They shared a look as she shut the door, and let out a sigh, “Thank you,” She swallowed, “I’m…He looks like he had fun, so I’m really–”
“Don’t mention it,” He smiled, “Next week’s patrol route should be safer if he wants to tag along.”
“That’s–you really don’t need to…” Was the flush on her face embarrassment or, or was he finally starting to chip that icy exterior? “Are you sure it’s–”
“Oh yeah,” He glanced towards the boy sifting through cabinets in the kitchen, “Kenta’s my number one sidekick, right?”
“Mm!” The boy turned towards them, face stuffed with some pastry as he hummed.
“Kenta!” She scurried over to him, shutting the lid to the cookie jar, “We’re just about to have dinner; don’t go ruining your appetite!”
“‘M not!” He stifled a laugh as he watched the boy cross his arms petulantly, “I got two stomachs; one for food and then a whole ‘nother big one for desert!”
She smiled lightly as she watched him shove two fingers in her face before putting her hands up in mock concession, “Oh, well, it’s a pity that Mama’s only got one stomach then, huh?” Making her way over to the impressive spread on the dining room counter, “I better dig in while I can.”
She plucked a piece of sushi from one of the platters, and he swallowed as he watched her push it between her lips with her fingers, tongue brushing over the tips as she pulled them from her mouth. He tried to will himself to look away, though, she was entirely too focused on the little boy now jumping for the sushi platter to bother with his own leering.
“Not if I do first!” He watched as the boy practically inhaled the food, attention drawn back at the sound of light laughter. Her hand was covering her mouth, but the twinkle in her eye sent lightning into his heart. Pretty.
He huffed a sigh to calm his racing pulse, “Guess I’ll leave ya to–”
“You gotta stay for dinner!” Face stuffed full with an array of food, Kenta’s words were muffled, “Right, Mama?”
He glanced towards her, taking in her hesitant features. Not yet.
“Ah. That’s alright, I don’t–”
“Stay,” He was taken aback by the softness of the word, “I mean…if you’d like, as a thank you for taking Kenta out, stay.”
Fuck. This woman would be the death of him.
.♡.
“You really didn’t have to do this.” She looked at him through the corner of her eye as she handed him another wet dish to towel off.
“Nah, I owe ya for that killer dinner,” He paused, “Come to think of it; I owe ya for the bento too, Ms. Pro Chef.”
She rolled her eyes playfully before turning back to the sink, and the two settled into a comfortable silence before she paused, mouth twisting a bit as her brows furrowed.
“I appreciate everything you’ve done for Kenta,” She let out a sigh, turning to face him as she shut the tap, “But um, this is, a bit…” She motioned around the kitchen, the wholly domestic scene, “Hero Billboards or not, the two of us aren’t actually…”
He watched as she struggled to find the words, “‘Course not,” Stamping out the sprouting disappointment in his chest, he plastered on that hero smile, “But what’s a dinner between friends, right?”
He watched as the trepidation melted off her face. Was the thought of being with him really that bad? Shaking himself from his thoughts he sighed as he watched her maneuver behind him to start reshelving the cutlery and plates.
“Yeah. Friends.” She sent him a soft smile, and he found himself the slightest bit surprised that it hadn’t melted his heart on cue. He wanted more.
She was bent over the counter in a way too sinful to be a coincidence. Was she testing him? Waiting for him to take initiative, prove to her that he was a man? He wouldn’t leave her high and dry the way so many others in her life seemed to–he could be that guy for her.
Eyes trailing to the swell of her backside, he spotted her dress lifted slightly at the fat of her thighs. Would she look at him then? If he took her by the hair, forced her cheek to the counter, smushed her pretty tits against it, and ripped the cotton panties down her legs?
He was sure, looking down at her; she was so small. She’d fucking wail when he forced his cock through her walls. Maybe he could see himself poking through under the skin of her stomach: full of him.
He’d destroy her.
Ruin her for anyone and everyone else. How many times had she chided him for his reckless behavior, for the destruction his hands had wrecked?
He’d repay her tenfold. Those hands could do more than destroy. They’d make her cum again and again and again. Until the only thought running through her mind was him and how good he was fucking her and how goddamn grateful she was to be fucked by, to be loved by, him.
The call of his name brought him back from his thoughts, and he looked over to meet her concerned eyes.
“Are you alright?” She closed the gap between them, and lifted to her toes, tapping his shoulder to bring him down a bit before she pressed her hand to his forehead, “You’re a little flushed; are you sick?”
Well, with you this close to me, I fucking might be.
He straightened suddenly, “Nah,” Letting out a sheepish laugh, “Must be the long hours. Hero work ain’t always the most forgivin’, I guess,'' He huffed a sigh, “I should get goin’ though, yeah?”
“Yeah,” She watched as he made his way to the door, “Okay.”
“I’ll be by some time to take Kenta out on patrol, if that’s still alright?”
She nodded as he slipped his shoes on, and was left a bit confused at the abrupt close to the evening with the click of her front door falling shut.
He let out a breath as he closed the door, leaning against the wood to regain his composure as his hand ran through his hair. He could do this. He stretched his arms over his head as he headed down the steps of her porch.
The cold night air soothed the warmth in his cheeks, but it seemed that a fire more insatiable had been lit in his chest. He strolled casually down the sidewalk, eyes trained up at the grinning moon, making sure to hide the mirroring smirk that pulled at his lips as the camera flashed from the bushes. Right on cue.
.♡.
“I need to get a new secretary.” He joked as he shut the door to his office, catching sight of the woman in his office.
“I don’t think I can do this anymore.” Her mouth was set in a line, hands pulling nervously at her sleeves as her arms crossed.
What?
She began pacing, “I’m really sorry,” She avoided his gaze, “I know you’ve done a lot for Kenta, for me, and I can pay you back with however much you–”
“Woah, woah,” He approached her, stopping her nervous pacing, “What’s goin’ on? Tell me what happened.”
She sighed, looking up to meet his gaze, and he noticed for the first time eye bags forming on her face.
“Paparazzi are showing up to Kenta’s preschool,” She huffed, “Taking pictures of him playing outside, trying to ask him questions.”
His eyebrows raised a bit in shock, but he softened his gaze, “I’m so sorry,” He went to guide her to sit down, “I’ll take care of it, promise.”
He didn’t like where this was going. So she wasn’t in love with him yet. Okay. He just needed more time. She couldn’t leave.
She pushed his hand off her shoulder, “It’s not just that,” She swallowed, “They’re everywhere, at my office, at the daycare, anywhere we fucking go; they’re even showing up at the house.”
“It’s oka–”
“How do they even know where I live?” Her brows knit together, “You know there are pictures of you leaving? At night?”
“I didn’t–”
“Do you know how indecent that makes me look?” She rubbed her hands down her face, breathing out his name, “I’m already a single mother; I don’t need the entirety of Japan questioning any more of my integrity, certainly not questioning my son.”
Wouldn’t most women be flattered by the attention? Whatever; he needed to end this before it got out of hand.
“You’re right,” He placated, “Look,” He sighed, “The Hero Billboards are next week,” Just a little longer and they’d be there; she just wasn’t ready yet, “We only gotta have one more public appearance, and–”
“Public Appearance?” Her voice turned sharp, “You want me to be your fake date, in front of the whole country, just so you can save your ranking?” Her eyes flashed in accusation, “Have you been listening to what I–”
“Enough,” Fuck, he was getting fed up. Didn’t she know how much he cared about her? How much he did for her? “I have been listening; it’s your turn.”
“Excuse me–”
He stepped forward, backing her against the window, and an uneasy look settled on her face. Was this what it took? He just needed to show a little dominance. Be the man. And she would listen. He placed his hand above her on the glass as he leaned down.
“One more week,” Bringing his other hand to her face, one finger outstretched, “That’s all I’m askin’.”
She went to open her mouth, but he shushed her. Oh. This felt kinda good. The way she was looking at him. Hanging on to his every word because, right now, he had the power.
“I’m not done,” He breathed, “One more week. I’ll take care a’ the paparazzi. I’ll take care a’ everything. So–”
Her mouth twisted, a conflict growing in her eyes, but she forced the words in spite of it, “I don’t need you to take care of it. I don’t need you to take care of me. I need you to–”
“Oh, you don’t?” His tone turned mocking, and his teeth bit into his lip as he watched her swallow, “Let’s ask Kenta how much he needs me, why don’t we? You really gonna–”
“You are not his father.” The words were firm, but the tensing of her shoulders betrayed her, and he leaned closer.
“I’m the closest thing he’s got, baby.”
The shock washed over her features before settling on anger. Cute. She pushed him off her. Well, he let her. She was such a weak little thing, after all.
“So this is who you are?” She scoffed, “This,” She motioned between them, “Is over. I refuse to entertain whatever misogynistic tirade you’ve decided to indulge in.” Okay. Less cute.
She made her way to the door, glancing briefly over her shoulder, “Do not attempt to contact me or my son again.” And she was gone.
Well shit.
His tongue smacked against his teeth as he kept his gaze on the door. He was tryna show her that he was the man. He could take care of her, of everything. All she had to do was shut the fuck up and let him. Does she know how many women would kill for that?
He’d earned it. He’d done so much. He’d tried being patient. Tried to go at her pace. Be a gentleman. But, he realized, brats don’t want gentlemen. That’s what she was after all. What she’d always been, he realized. Ice Queen. Queen? The thought made him want to laugh now.
Is that what she wanted? For him to take her over his knee, smack that pretty ass ‘till it was black and blue? Make her cry for her Daddy? Put her in her goddamn place; wash out all her sharp, angry words with his cock shoved down her throat.
Force her to her knees?
Okay. He could do that.
.♡.
“What do you mean someone picked him up?”
“Well,” The preschool teacher swallowed nervously, “He said that you had–”
“He?” Her blood went cold, and in a quiet voice, she breathed his name in question.
“Yes!” The other woman smiled, “So you did approve of–”
She didn’t hear the rest of the words, blood rushing in her ears. She felt sick. What was going on? What kind of joke was this? She stumbled her way out of the gates, collapsing against them outside. Nauseous.
She tried to calm her breathing. He was still a hero. A fucking asshole with no sense of boundaries. But a hero. Right?
She took her hands to her cheeks, smacking herself to calm down. She let out a breath, swallowing the tears as she fumbled through her purse for her phone.
Ring ring! Ring ring! Ring–
“He–”
“Where do you get off?” She couldn’t help the words that spilled from her throat, “Kenta is my son; what you’re doing is essentially kidna–”
“Hey, sweetheart.” She could hear the smugness in his voice, and cursed herself for allowing herself to think for one second he might have been a decent human being.
“Where is–”
“Is that Mama?” She heard the excited voice of her son, and her breath hitched.
“Kenta? Kenta! Where are–”
“Yup!” He interrupted, “Don’t worry, bud. We’ll be seein’ Mama real soon, right?”
“Mhmm!” Came the muffled reply. So she wasn’t on speaker. Good.
“If you don’t tell me where he is right now,” The words were shaky, “I’ll call the fucking cops.”
There was a beat before a deep, baritone laughter filled her ears. He sighed, and she could feel the goddamn smile on his face.
“Hey, Kenta!” He called, “You wanna tell Mama what we’re doin?”
“S’ a surprise!”
“Hear that?” He turned back to the phone, “It’s a surprise. Don’t you worry, Mama,” He exhaled a bit through his nose, “We’ll be home for dinner.”
“What are you–”
And the line went dead.
Fuck. Fuck. Fucking goddamn shitfuck.
She was shaking with anger as she lowered the phone, scared that if she so much as breathed she’d scream so loud it’d bulldoze half of Tokyo.
What the fuck was she going to do?
.♡.
There was a knock at the door, and she ripped it open, shocked it hadn’t fallen from the hinges. She looked up to meet his eyes, something playful twinkling in them. Did he think this was a joke?
“Mama, Mama!” Her gaze was pulled down to the little boy clutching the man’s hand, “Guess what? Guess what?”
“Ah,” He sighed, “Remember, bud. It’s a super special surprise.”
Kenta looked up at him as if realizing something before humming happily. She swallowed as she glanced between them, settling her gaze on the hero.
“Kenta,” Eyes still locked with burning red, “Why don’t you go clean up before dinner?”
“Mkay!” And he bounded off towards his room. When she heard the slam of his door, she let out a sigh, and swallowed, steadying her nerves.
“What the absolute fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“Language, sweetheart.” He sidestepped her, making his way inside, shutting the door behind him.
“Lang–?” He wasn’t serious, “Who do you think you—”
“Shouldn’t curse in front of Kenta,” He smiled, “It’ll teach him bad habits, y’know?”
Oh my god she’d never wanted to punch someone as much as she did now. She forced herself to breathe before settling.
“You don’t need to worry about Kenta’s habits,” He yawned, and she fought the urge to scream, “I want to know what you’re doing in my house, picking my son up from school like you–”
“That’s a funny way a’ sayin’ thank you for the favor.”
“Are you–”
“I know how busy you get,” He moved towards her, and she took a step back, and another until she hit the wall. Not again. “Wanted to give you a break. What’s the harm in that?”
He was looking down at her like that again. Like there was a game they were playing where only he knew the rules. Where he was winning.
“The harm,” She forced herself to speak, “Is that I gave you explicit instru–”
“Y’know,” He leaned back a bit, head tilted to the ceiling before snapping his eyes back to her, “Women are so complicated. Never sayin’ what you mean, what you need–”
“Let me be very clear, then,” She breathed, “Get out.”
He looked at her a moment, and she cursed the universe for not gifting her an invisibility quirk. Any quirk, actually. She was sure that, if he wanted, he could kill her without so much as blinking.
And then he laughed. She stood, frozen, studying his expression before his lips fell into a smirk. In a flash, his hand met her throat, squeezing the air from her lungs, and lifting her to her tiptoes. Her own hands flew up to claw at his, choking on her breath. His face was in front of hers, nose to her own.
“I’m gettin’ real sick of bein’ told what to do,” The edges of her vision were going black as his hot breath met her face, “I think you owe me an apology, baby.”
There were tears forming in her eyes, and she nearly, stubbornly, thought she’d rather pass out than give him the satisfaction. But the distant sound of running water forced her lips to move.
“So–Sor–Sorry, ple-please–”
He released her, and she doubled over, falling into a coughing fit, hand clutching at her own throat, sure of the forming bruises. He huffed a sigh, as if somehow she was inconveniencing him.
He leaned down again as she straightened against the wall. And he smiled. What was–
Before she could blink, his lips were pressed against her own. Her hands came to push at his chest, but he pulled back before she could move. He huffed a laugh, ruffling her hair.
“All good?”
All good? She forced down the protests, and nodded. She didn’t know this man. Didn’t know what he could do.
“It’s gettin’ kinda late, huh?” She realized after a moment that he was looking for an answer.
“I–Yes, I–” She cleared her throat of the raspiness, “I guess it is.”
He stretched his arms over his head, “Think I’ll stay the night, that okay?”
Fucking bastard. She went to open her mouth, but the sound of small footsteps padding against the floor caught her attention. She turned to see Kenta, hair dripping, in his matching set pajamas, making his way into the room.
“Hey, bud,” The man turned to him, “Guess what?”
“What?” He tilted his head.
He smirked as he glanced back at her, “We’re havin’ a sleepover.”
“Really?” Kenta jumped a bit in excitement.
His eyes were still on her. Red and burning and waiting.
She cleared her throat, “Real–Really, baby, if,” She glanced nervously between them, “If that’s what you want.”
“Yeah! We’re gonna have so much fun!”
“So much fun,” The man confirmed, “Right,” Looking around, he made his way to the dining room table, “What’s for dinner?”
.♡.
“Damn,” He whistled from behind her, hands rubbing up her sides, settling on her hips, “You tryna steal my brand?”
He huffed a laugh, lips falling to a smirk as his face fell to her neck, eyes trailing her figure in the mirror in front of them.
“Guess red is your color now, baby.” His nose brushed against her neck as he raised his head, taking in a breath, and pressed a wet kiss to her cheek.
She tried her hardest not to cringe, managing to keep her disgust contained with the clench of her jaw. The dress was beautiful; she would have felt beautiful had anyone else on the planet gifted it to her, but they didn’t, and she didn’t. There was a much too revealing slit running up one of the sides of the dress. With fabric skin tight and blood red, she felt more like someone’s dress-up doll than a person.
“This is it, right?” She sighed, meeting his eyes in the mirror, her own expression dull, tired, “You get your rank boosted, and that’s it. We’re done. Right? ”
She knew logically, in the far back of her mind, that this was about something entirely more sinister than simply a number as inconsequential, as temporary as a hero rank. The crimson eyes in the mirror glowed with a feeling she could only attribute to possession.
But, stupidly, naively, she was clinging to some hope, any hope, that that was what he wanted. Because if it wasn’t, if he wanted any more, she feared she’d break to pieces on her bedroom floor. And if she allowed herself even a second, and the cracks appeared, she’d be burdening her son with the shattered mess that would be her resolve.
So she wouldn’t break. If only to keep that bright smile on Kenta’s face, eyes innocent, shield him from anything and everything big and bad in the world like a mother would. Like a mother should.
She wouldn’t break.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head,” He sighed, a sleazy smile still on his lips as his hands began to move, to grope, “After tonight; we won’t have to play pretend anymore.”
One arm wrapped around her middle, pulling her tight against him, something poking at her back. His other hand traveled downwards, fingers slipping past that easy access slit, and–
“Mama, mama, look!” As quickly as he pulled her to him, he stepped away, turning to the little boy bounding through the door.
“You like the suit, bud?” How generous he was, he’d reminded her. He had all the money in the world to take care of them. She just had to let him. As if it were that easy. Asshole.
But she swallowed the anger, sending a soft smile to her son, taking in the child standing tall and proud in his small, tailored suit, grinning up at them for approval. At them. She faltered a bit before willing the nausea away.
“Wow,” She sighed, making her way to Kenta, crouching down as she fixed his red tie. The three of them really did look like a matching set, didn’t they? “Who’s this handsome man? Have you seen Kenta? I can’t seem to find him!”
“It’s me! Kenta! Here, I’m right here!” He squealed, waving his arms a bit in front of her.
“No,” She smiled wryly, “Kenta likes to come home covered in dirt lookin’ super cool.”
“Well now I’m all dressed up and super cool!” He crossed his arms petulantly, and she relented, laughing lightly.
“Oh, silly me,” She stood, having fixed his tie, “Of course, only Kenta could look this cool.”
“Mhmm!”
The low laughter behind her was like ice water in her veins. Right. He was still here. He came up behind her, arm wrapping around her hips as he smiled down at her son.
“You all ready, bud?”
“Yup!” Kenta jumped excitedly, “And I remembered, just like you said! I got the–”
“Surprise, kiddo.” The man hummed.
“Oh,” Kenta’s eyes widened before nodding intently, “Right. Surprise.” She didn’t want to dwell on the way her son looked at the man beside her with the reverence of something like a father.
The hero sent him a wink, and the little boy gave him a mismatched eye blink in response. She clenched her jaw, fingernails digging into her palms. Days. Days, and he hadn’t budged on this surprise of his. She felt like she’d throw up if she thought about it too long. So she forced it to the back of her mind.
She couldn’t break.
He turned back to her, fingers squeezed at the fat of her waist, thumb brushing affectionately against the fabric.
“You ready?”
.♡.
The lights flashing in her face left her feeling dizzy, and clutching tightly to the man by her side as they stepped from the limo. Blindly, she grasped for her son’s hand behind her as they marched forward, through the chaos.
They stopped in front of a row of reporters. A press line, she realized grimly. She let her mind wander as he fielded questions about the upcoming hero ranking announcement, chuckling lightly as reporter after reporter speculated about the nature and history of their relationship. About the oh so adorable little boy bouncing at their side.
He waved them off after a while, “I’m real sorry!” Sheepishly, a hand came to scratch at his head, “But, the little lady’s not used to all the cameras just yet.” Yet? No, push it down. Smile, she reminded herself, glancing at her son, who was rocking on his heels back and forth beside her. Oblivious. Good.
He huffed an apologetic laugh as the crowd protested, “‘Sides, we’d better get inside,” He threw a disarming smile over his shoulder, a hand raised to the crowd, “Wish me luck!”
They made their way inside, and she scanned the room, Kenta gasping next to her at the gathering of heroes. His heroes.
They made their way to their seats, and she recognized a few of the heroes gathered around them. She zoned out as a few of the men shoved her hero by the shoulder, jeering at him for finally settling down. A few of the women cooing over Kenta; how quaint! God, she wanted to scream.
She was brought back to reality when the grip on her hand turned deadly. Wincing, she turned towards him.
“I’m sorry,” She forced a sheepish smile, “Guess I’m just a little overwhelmed. What was the question?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the suspicious gaze of that ash blonde hero. The one who blew the city to bits every chance he got. He scoffed as he sized her up, turning away, downing his drink. She swallowed, turning away in unease.
“How’d this oaf convince ya, huh?” The lightning blonde laughed, “Money? No way a chick as hot as–oof!” One of the women, that pink hero, she recognized, elbowed him in the stomach, and the man doubled over, spitting up his drink, “Shit! What was that for?”
She turned away from the interaction as the woman began to scold him, and a few others took the opportunity to ask about her relationship to their friend.
How’d you get together?
Yeah! Tell us everything!
Where’d he take you on your first date?
It wasn’t the gym, right? Please tell me it wasn’t the gym!
And more. Her cheeks hurt from the forced quirk of her lips, fingers aching under the table from the deathgrip her tormentor had on her hand. She gave them the answers she thought appropriate.
He saved my son’s life.
Just a casual dinner. Nothing big.
His grip relented a bit, and she sighed. Kissing her on the cheek, he leaned back, a lovesick glaze overtaking his eyes that even his friends seemed to notice, because the jeers started up again.
“Alright, alright,” He placated with a smile, “You got your answers. Quit scarin’ the lady, already.”
They protested lightly, but settled. Just in time. The lights started to dim, and a spotlight shone on stage. The entirely too enthusiastic announcer began to speak, hyping up the crowd at the fast approaching ranking release.
As the minutes ticked by on the clock, she realized his name hadn’t been called yet. Most of the heroes at her table had sat by in silence so far. And then the host flashed a knowing smile, reminding the crowd of the moment they’d been waiting for.
The Top Ten.
Oh. Was that it? If he was in the top ten, would that mean she did her job? Served her purpose. Would he leave her be, then?
She turned to watch Kenta, whose eyes were glued to the stage, wide in awe, ears hanging on every word. She selfishly wished he wouldn’t become one of those people who worshiped the hero society she’d found herself trapped in.
But she could see it happening in real time, she supposed. The way he clung to the man who’d saved him from the rubble. The merch and toys that now littered their home, posters plastered around his bedroom walls. The way his eyes seemed to light up at the mention of his favorite hero’s name. She could almost hear the moment her heart started to crack.
All of a sudden, the people around her stood up, screaming. Kenta jumped to his feet, hands raised in the air as an open-mouthed smile overtook his face.
No. 8 Hero.
No. 8.
He reached a hand around her back, twirling her towards him, dipping her as his lips forced themselves on hers, tongue shoved down her throat. The cheers only erupted further. As she was pulled back to her feet, dizzy and unfocused, she barely registered as he made his way to the stage, bowing in thanks.
The rest of the names flew by in a blur, a few of his friends stepping up to join him as the list reached its end. But she paid no mind. It was over now. Right?
It was over. Could it please be over?
.♡.
They were outside again, and the cold night air nipped at her skin. Ushered back into the press line, she watched him desperately as he began to speak to reporters.
What an honor. I wasn’t expecting this. I’ll do my best to earn it!
She wanted to laugh until she screamed. But she was waiting. Waiting for him to say it. Release her. Release them. Say it. Please, say it.
“I owe it to all the support I’ve got behind me.” He smiled, squeezing their interlocked hands, “I really am the luckiest guy in the world, Number 8 or not.” No.
“There isn’t anything I can do to thank her,” He sighed, letting out a sheepish laugh, “But, I did prepare a little surprise.”
He turned to glance at Kenta, “We had a little surprise, actually.” Not that. Don’t say that.
The crowd awed, cooing at the scene, reporters on the edge of their seats, eager to hear more. She knew it was coming. She knew it. And yet, still, some part of her, some stupid part of her grasped for that single thread. She couldn’t fall. If she fell, she’d break.
“You ready, bud?” Stop it. She was starting to lose her grip on the thread.
“Mhmm!” Kenta hummed, fumbling for something in his pocket. “Right here!”
The thread was fraying. His small hands produced a velvet red box, and the crowd took a breath. She watched as her son reached past her, handing the weapon to the perpetrator. She hadn’t the time to process the burning betrayal in her chest. Because suddenly, she was falling.
And then he kneeled, looking up at her imploringly, that twinkle in his eyes sparkling. He’d finally won that game of his that only he was playing. Further down and down. And–
“Will you marry me?” That shark toothed smile flashed up at her; she felt the fangs ripping her heart to shreds.
