a look into the thoughts, futures, and failures of a select few sonic robots. what lives to they build for themselves, and how do they learn to live in the first place?
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married poly bkdk x reader with kids but the kids accidentally get sent back in time to before their parents were together? yeah
you weren't expecting anything out of the ordinary when you got back to the dorm after your last workout, but the bakusquad all facing the far corner of the living room, faces ranging from concern to unrestrained glee, makes you rethink that immediately.
"i'm sorry," kiri was saying softly, crouched down on one knee. "we don't know who your moms are. neither bakugou nor midoriya are dating anyone-"
you're walking closer when you hear a small voice sounding incredibly exasperated say, "we /told/ you: we have two /dads/, not moms. we have the same mom-"
"wonder woman," a second small voice adds.
"right, dad calls her wonder woman and papa calls her sweetheart and we call her mom!"
as you get closer, sero sees you. as he waves you over, denki spots you too. he grabs your arm, wide grin on his face.
"dude," he starts, "look-"
but denki is interrupted by three things happening at once:
first, you finally see who is speaking: in the corner, standing tall and fierce, is an approximately six-year-old girl, who's wild green hair and freckles look strikingly like midoriya's. behind her is a timid younger boy, who could easily have been bakugou's clone if it weren't for his eyes.
second, the kids spot you. the little boy sees you first, eyes going wide and hand going up to tug his sister's shirt. she immediately glances at him, then looks to follow the finger he points in your direction. the tension leaks out of her stance and she looks even more like midoriya now that tears are welling up in her eyes. "mom," she chokes out before wiping her eyes with one hand and grabbing the little boy's hand, the two of them racing into your knees and clutching your legs.
third, the movement of the kids, which nearly knocks over kiri and mina, who had also been seated on the floor near kiri, alerts the rest of the bakusquad of your presence. now everyone's eyes land on you.
modern!au where dracule mihawk runs a quiet little out of the way used bookstore that hardly seems open half the time but it’s still fairly popular. he does book restorations with hand crafted covers if someone is willing to dole out the money for it.
everyone can tell that the store is just a hobby because how else is this recluse of a man able to afford the high end luxury car he drives? he claims good investments and yes, that’s partially true.
only a select handful of people know that mihawk a renowned artist known for his dark and melancholy pieces, always presented under an alias he keeps under tight, tight wraps to avoid the nuisance of publicity. it’s a good, cathartic way to express himself without having to bare himself to a therapist and he supposes if it brings in enough money to live comfortably then it’s a bonus. it’s not the major reason he does it though.
he’s content with his life and solitude. he has people he can call up and chat if he so desires— it’s laughably rare that he does though— but for the most part he spends his days quietly doing what he loves.
then you wander into the store with paint smudges on your fingers, dressed in soft pastels with a shy smile as you present mihawk with two rare first edition books that you want to gift to people. they’re in awful condition— some dimwit shoved them onto a shelf and left them to rot— and you ask him if they can even be salvaged.
he agrees, but it’s going to take time and care and if you want a new cover it’s going to cost—
— nothing, because you lay two covers you painted yourself beside the other two and ask if he would be willing to use them. it’s only that this friend is very special to you and to give them someone else’s work feels wrong and mihawk finds himself agreeing because you sound so hopeful and when is the last time anyone put that much work into something for him?
it fractures something, and he shakes himself free of the sudden, unwanted thought even as he tells you he’ll call if and when he’s finished. he won’t charge if he can’t complete the work, but you don’t even bat an eye before you tell him you don’t expect perfection, just for him to do his best.
that thought flickers through his mind a second time, and it sinks its hooks in before he can rid himself of it like a pesky fly.
