This is Gospel-- Tadashi x Reader(COMPLETE)

Chapter 1

~~~Locked away in permanent slumber~~~

Your name is (Y/N) (L/N), and you have just gotten the mail out of your mailbox. On your way back inside, you look through the stack of paper in your hand.

"Bill...bill...magazine...wait, what's this?" You muttered to yourself, picking up a parcel addressed to yourself. As soon as you notice the symbol of the San Fransokyo Institute of Technology, you screech like a banshee and run inside.

"MOM! DAD!" You exclaim, dashing as fast as you could with your prosthetic right leg into your kitchen where your mother cooks rice on the stove.

"What is it, (Y/N)?" Your mother asks, smiling gently.

"I got a letter from SFIT!" You exclaim, practically beaming. SFIT was your dream college; you'd always wanted to go there. Since you were a little girl, your focus had never been on makeup or boys. Instead, you began your work in bioengineering: coming up with ideas for formulas that could unlock the potential of the human body.

When your dad enters the room, you rip open the envelope.

"Dear Miss (Y/N)," you begin excitedly,"we are pleased to inform you that you've been accepted to the San Fransokyo Institute of Technology!"

Your parents hug you tightly, telling them how proud they are of you. Meanwhile, you notice another part of the letter. "Hold on," you mutter.

"However, due to your disability, we are assigning you a partner in your studies for your first year," you read, getting slower and slower as your heart fills up with dread.

You finally get into your dream college, and you don't even get to focus on your major? What a load of crap.

"Hey, maybe it won't be so bad," your mother says, trying to comfort you.

"Hey, it says his name is something 'Hamada'," your father says, taking the letter and reading the rest of it. You roll your eyes.

"Great. Just figures that my 'partner' is a dude," you say sarcastically. You slip the letter into your pocket and sit down for dinner.

~( •-• )~

You glance at the letter, sitting there on your bedside and glaring mockingly at you.

"Ugh, what am I gonna do about this?" you mumble, flipping down on your bed and stuffing your face into a pillow. You sigh, staring at your prosthetic.

You vividly remember the accident where you lost your leg. You had been on a field trip with your eighth grade when your bus collided with a semi truck, sending it flying into a ditch. You had almost made it to safety when you heard the strangled cries of a student.

He had only been in your class for two days, and you couldn't remember his name. But you still had to go save him; in all the chaos, he'd been forgotten.

"Someone has to help," you had muttered to yourself, running back and helping him pry out of a broken seat. The boy smiled at you in thanks, but it was quickly turned to fear as an explosion rang out.

All you could think as you were sent hurtling through the air was how stupid you were for not realizing that the gas tank would blow up at any second.

Thankfully, nobody was killed, but you did lose your leg to the explosion. That was when you decided to work on bioengineering: to find some way to get your limb back.

And now, you weren't allowed to work on it until your second year.

You groan and shift your body so you're sitting up, then go about removing your prosthetic. It's vaguely humanlike, so if you wanted to, you could wear it in public without people noticing your handicap--at least, not at first. It took you about ten minutes to undo all the contraptions keeping it on your leg, as your actual skin cut off about halfway down your thigh. The doctor had said to take off the prosthetic every night until further notice, so you just did what he told you to do.

You lay your prosthetic within reach, then reach over and turn out your lamp. Gazing at the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling, you close your eyes and try to imagine what college will be like.

( •-• )( •-• )

Bonus:

"(Y/N)," your dad begins, "you know I have to intensely interrogate every boy you bring home, right?"

You giggle. "Dad, stop."

"I have a .22--"

"DAD. YOU'RE NOT GOING TO SHOOT MY PARTNER."

"..."

"I'll do it myself, thank you very much."

So that bonus was awkward.

Welcome to my Tadashi x Reader, where disabilities are recognized and appreciated! I personally do not have a missing leg, so if you find an inaccuracy, please tell me so I can fix it! :3

Thanks for reading, Reader-chan! It's good to be back ;3