kunikame

[kunikame]

TUMBLR USER KUNIKAME !! I SPEAK INTO THIS LETTER AS TO INQUIRE FOR YOUR CURRENT STATUS !! BECAUSE I, TUMBLR USER SOLXIMA, MISS YOU QUITE A LOT AND HOPE YOU ARE WELL !!!!!!!!! AND RESTING !!! AND DOING GOOD ON YOUR FINALS !!!!!!

TUMBLR USER SOLXIMA !!!! I AM REPLYING TO YOUR LETTER AS TO LET YOU KNOW I AM DOING ALRIGHT I BELIEVE !!!! MY LIFE HAS BEEN QUITE HECTIC AND I AM TO WED !!!! MY EDUCATION IS, SAFE TO SAY, MUCH LIKE A FENCING DUEL AGAINST A MASTER OF THE BLADE WHILE I AM A MERE NOVICE -- I AM AFRAID IT WILL END IN A CRUSHING LOSS. I HOPE THIS LETTER FINDS YOU WELL, AND I MISS YOU DEARLY ASWELL !!!! PLEASE DO LET ME KNOW OF YOUR CURRENT STATUS POSTHASTE AND TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF !!!! WITH LOVE AND KISSES

[kunikame]

ㅡ mitsuki izumi

venus, planet of love. ☆

[kunikame]

venus, planet of love. - mitsuki i.

warning(s) : hurt/comfort, mitsukis inferiority complex, i7 are the planets dont ask me why just read the fic, i love u izumi mitsuki u are so me w/c : 1619

you know love is real because izumi mitsuki exists, and he is full of it.

mitsuki loves many things – he loves iori, ZERO, re:vale, idolish7, his parents, the bakery, .. the list goes on endlessly, for izumi mitsuki is love itself. he is a lover through and through, he was raised with love enveloping him all around, and he spreads it around to everyone shamelessly and selflessly.

the only thing mitsuki doesn’t really love is himself – he is second. always, always second.

second to his genius younger brother, secondary to all his group members, always the kid picked last unless iori was the leader.

there was nothing particularly wrong with him that made it this way, he was, simply put, mediocre. a jack of all trades but master of none, if you will.

so you can imagine it didn’t quite surprise him to be less popular than his group mates by a huge margin. he didn’t stand out with anything, he had nothing for himself that would make him stand out – he wasn’t too likeable. he was aware of this, he has known this for a while – but it still hit him quite hard.

it was horrible, really, to see a light so bright become dim because it cannot see itself – it only sees the other lights, and becomes lost in their glow, mistakenly led to believe he does not shine at all.

it certainly does a number on the sight to gaze directly at the sun.

perhaps if he was brighter, if he was made of something different, he, too, would shine – would be loved.

you’ve always compared idolish7 to the planets in the sky, and fittingly so, as to you, a friend and fan, they are the center of a greater something. something only they can create, something that is tried and tested and truly theirs, because they shine brighter than all the stars combined, and because they deserve to have their place in the universe.

if nanase riku is the sun, a sense of purpose, then iori izumi is the moon, instinct. nikaido yamato is jupiter, expansion. nagi rokuya is saturn, responsibility. tamaki yotsuba is uranus, freedom. osaka sogo is mercury, adaptability. 

izumi mitsuki is venus, love.

for it is not love if it is not izumi mitsuki. it is not izumi mitsuki if it is not love.

you just wish he knew that.

which is exactly why when he got offers to mc on variety shows, you encouraged him to take them, to try them – maybe he’ll end up liking them. he is really funny, after all, a natural conversationalist. he is exactly the type variety mc’s like to interview the most, you’re almost certain he would be good at the job.

and he was – he was so good, in fact, he earned idolish7 their very own namesake show, with him as the mc.

he finally had something for himself, something that was purely his, something that defined and solidified his place in idolish7. something that made him irreplaceable.

seeing mitsuki try so earnestly and work so hard, you honestly didn’t know what to do. sometimes, you’d want to say “good luck!”, but other times you feel a “you don’t have to work so hard” would be better, as he was literally working himself to the bone to please everyone he possibly could – for what is he, if not love?

he never desired whatever side parts come with fame – he simply wanted to make people happy. that was his one true ambition, his goal. he doesn’t need anyone to love him, as long as they love the things he loves – as long as they love idolish7. it would sting, of course, to be left behind, to be unfavored, but he supposed he could live with that reality. he was finally accepted after all those failed auditions, he was doing what he loved, with the people he loved by his side.

he believed he could somehow get used to being disliked.

being disliked for doing something he loved however, that was a different story. 

he thought by mc-ing he could get closer to the others in popularity – and, from a certain point, it was true – his popularity did rise a bit, and he definitely did receive more fan letters and positive comments now, but the fated encounter and the unfortunate “he’s so annoying, i wish he would shut up” would continue to ring in his head for a long while to come.

he has just built up his confidence and stability like a fine tower of cards, fearing the slightest gust of wind lest it gets knocked off and tumbles onto his wooden desk in a messy pile – but instead, someone kicked the desk and the cards flew off and onto the cold, harsh ground, such a far distance off.

nagi had attempted to salvage the situation to the best of his ability, but lifting the cards off the ground isn’t going to rebuild the tower – mitsuki will have to do that himself.

handing him the cards while he does so was a simple act of kindness on your part.

“mitsuki?”

he startles mid stretch, an earbud falling out as he turns his head.

“[name]? what are you still doing here?”

“i was looking for you, then i ran into iori– he said i’d find you here,” you made your way over to sit next to him on the floor, sharing a look through the mirror facing you, “what are you doing here so late?”

“y’know, just practicing. gotta catch up and stuff, haha.”

“you’re already good enough as you are, mitsuki. you don’t need to chase after anything or anyone.”

he heaves an exhausted sigh, fiddling with the wires from his earbuds, “i do, though. i’m smaller than the others so i’m often off beat during the choreographies. i need to do more work to make sure i stay on.”

“you shouldn’t work so hard all the time. you’re tearing yourself apart trying to do this and that all at the same time – i understand your intentions, but i feel the way you’re going about them is going to bring you ruin in the end. as a friend first and fan second, i care for your health, and i don’t want to see you destroy yourself.”

“i’m not as good as them th–”

“yes, you are. you’re too absorbed in seeing them as the brightest lights to see yourself shining just as much as them. popularity polls don’t define who you are as a person, or how much you work, or how hard you try. the others know that, though, and so do i. we all see how much effort and care you put into your work, mitsuki – we know you pour out your heart and soul into everything you do, desperately trying to make it the best, trying to make people happy with you, and you do. the disapproving voices simply sound louder to you at this point in time, because those are the ones you’re most exposed to. it is however not hatred and dislike that kills entertainers, it’s love.”

the ginger listened attentively, taking your monologue in, dissecting it bit by bit. though he seems to disagree, he does understand your view and he respects it – he just doesn’t quite understand. he looks up at the mirror, staring in your eyes through it, and his seem to shimmer a tad more than they normally would under the studio lights.

“why love?”

the smile on your face feels a little melancholy, and again, he finds himself not understanding why.

“love can be overbearing and suffocating. sometimes we love things too much – so much we would kill just to keep them to ourselves. we destroy ourselves in an effort to make our loved ones happy or proud, completely blind to our surroundings becoming hazy and hard to navigate, and when you come to, you find you’re all alone in a room once filled with people. love changes, sometimes not in a good way. much like the stars burn up and disappear, the planets, too, will be destroyed by the sun,” you turn to him then, and there is a singular tear streaming down his face. you reach out to wipe it with your finger, and he blinks, “i don’t want to see that happen to you, because to me, you are love.”

“the destructive kind?”

“no, the beautiful kind. i see pieces of you in everything i hold dear, because i hold you dear.”

you see him smile for the first time that night, and it is beautiful, blindingly so – brighter than the white leds above his head. 

“i hold you dear, too.”

there’s a comfortable silence as you gaze at each other, the instrumental to their new song faintly heard from his long discarded earbuds on the floor.

“hey, did you know venus is the brightest planet naturally visible in the night sky?”

perhaps the planet of love itself was destroyed by being loved too much, but not izumi mitsuki – never izumi mitsuki.

izumi mitsuki loved many things. he loved iori, ZERO, re:vale, idolish7 – the list goes on. he was a lover, raised to love the things and people around himself.

“oh, really?”

but izumi mitsuki was also loved. loved by his fans, group mates, parents – by you.

the izumi mitsuki you knew had his love returned to him tenfold by his surroundings – be it the flowers his eyes linger on, the deep orange hues of the setting sun as they caress his face, the stray pets he feeds when he sees them – everything.

the izumi mitsuki you know is loved.

“yeah.”

maybe one day he will learn to love himself, too. 

ੈ✩₊˚TAGLIST : @gabirii //ask/comment or fill form to be added/removed! (if you’re in bold i can’t tag you)

[kunikame]

Starstruck || Malleus Draconia

After debuting with a gothic, fantasy-inspired theme, you somehow managed to hit Malleus Draconia’s exact vibe. Now, the fae prince has single-handedly appointed himself your Number One Fan—and he's taking his job very, very seriously.

It’s finally happening. After years of grinding it out in practice rooms, singing until your voice was raw, and dancing until your legs felt like spaghetti, the moment of truth has arrived. The managers want you to decide on your debut concept.

In front of you are two choices: school theme and gothic fantasy. You glance over at the school uniform option and cringe a little inside. At your age? No, thank you.

You’re not about to spend your precious debut years waving around pom-poms and trying to look sixteen. Gothic fantasy, on the other hand? Now that’s got some style. Dark cloaks, intense lighting, elaborate costumes—it’s exactly the drama you’ve been craving.

Your manager stands beside you, flipping through a spreadsheet with an expression that can only be described as financially preoccupied.

“Listen,” he says, in a tone that suggests he’s already decided, “school theme has a mass appeal. It’s relatable. Kids these days love a little campus vibe. And you know, uniform sales have great margins…”

“I’m doing gothic fantasy,” you reply, crossing your arms with a confidence that could stop a truck.

He blinks at you. “Okay, sure, I get the allure. But are you sure? Think of the numbers, the opportunities to connect with the youth. Imagine the adorable school scenes, the casual sports day outfits, the innocent love plots…”

“Imagine the smoke machines and black roses,” you counter, eyes gleaming.

He tries another angle. “Well, just consider the feedback from market research. School themes are—"

“Gothic. Fantasy.”

He sighs deeply, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like, “These artists and their egos,” but gives in, albeit with a look of absolute resignation. “Fine. Gothic fantasy it is. But you’re taking full responsibility if it flops.”

Release day arrives, and your first single—complete with a dramatic, shadow-filled video and costumes that look like something out of a Victorian vampire drama—hits the internet. The reactions are… intense.

Sure, maybe it’s not an overnight sensation, but it’s more than enough to get people talking. Your fans? They’re not your typical “bought it for the vibes” crowd. They are deeply invested.

You’re talking about people who can recite your lyrics like a spell. You even see fan forums cropping up where people dissect the symbolism of your music videos. There’s a post dedicated to the exact shade of black eyeliner you’re wearing, and someone actually counted how many flickers each candle has in the video.

One day, as you’re scrolling through the comments, a particularly poetic fan post catches your eye: “The ethereal aura this idol has given us with their gothic artistry is like a dark gift from another realm.”

Okay, maybe the fandom is a little… intense. But you can’t help but grin.

It all starts innocently enough.

One day, Lilia’s showing Malleus some music videos he calls "classics" (pretty sure some of them are just 20 minutes of bats screeching over synthesizers, but to each their own).

But, as fate would have it, Malleus stumbles across your latest release. His eyes widen as the screen fills with your dark aesthetic, the intense melodies, the dramatic lighting, the black roses swirling around you like a misty dreamscape. He’s hooked.

The video ends, and he turns to Lilia, awestruck. “Who is this human?” he asks, as if you’re some kind of ancient artifact discovered under a full moon.

“Oh, that’s a new artist. Apparently, they’re pretty talented.” Lilia raises an eyebrow, amused by Malleus’s reaction. “Why? Fancy yourself a fan, young master?”

“A fan?” Malleus looks scandalized. “Lilia, I am enchanted.”

Malleus’s enchantment quickly turns into an obsession. He spends the next few days discovering every song, music video, interview, and even those mildly embarrassing “What’s in My Bag?” videos where you show off your essentials (you had no idea one video about your favorite scented candles could attract such intense devotion).

He watches one interview where the host asks if you’re afraid of fae, and you reply with a casual, “Nah, I’d love to visit them one day.”

This is what seals the deal for Malleus. This human is not only a talented artist but also respectful, brave, and curious about the fae world. He has found his idol.

He decides it’s time to support you. And, because he’s the literal prince of the Briar Valley, he does what any fae royalty would: he orders some of your albums.

One hundred of them, to be exact.

In Malleus’s defense, he has absolutely zero concept of money. To him, it’s normal to go big. So he clicks “order” without even thinking, and in his mind, it’s done. Simple.

A few days later, when the delivery truck pulls up with boxes upon boxes upon boxes, Malleus’s reaction is… complicated.

He stares at the delivery man, then back at the wall of albums now stacked in front of him, and mutters, “I may have made a mistake.”

But Malleus Draconia is no quitter. So he devises a new plan: he’ll distribute these albums across the Briar Valley. Anyone who even mildly expresses an interest gets an album handed to them with an enthusiasm that’s both heartwarming and slightly terrifying.

It doesn’t take long before every fae in the valley knows your name, and soon enough, your music is echoing through the mystical woods. You, a mere human, are now an icon among the fae. The legend of the human idol with the beautiful music, who’s brave enough to express curiosity about fae life, spreads like wildfire.

Meanwhile, you’re in the middle of a heated argument with your manager. Despite your loyal fanbase, your concert venues are… sparsely filled, to put it kindly.

“I don’t know how to make this any clearer,” your manager says, waving his phone around for emphasis. “We need more fans, more sold-out shows, or it’s not going to be viable to keep booking these venues!”

You’re about to respond when his phone dings. Then again. And again. Suddenly, it sounds like he’s strapped a vibrating blender to his hand. Ding, ding, ding, dingdingdingding.

“What the…?” He stares at the screen, his expression shifting from annoyance to shock. “I—it says you’ve sold out every single venue. Wait, wait—there’s a waiting list for tickets that haven’t even been put on sale yet?”

He looks at you, blinking in astonishment. “I never doubted you for a second!” he declares with all the sincerity of a used car salesman. You roll your eyes. “Sure, pal.”

Later that night, you decide to check the fan forum for yourself. And something strikes you as… odd. Suddenly, all these usernames sound like they belong to a fantasy RPG. You scroll through names like “Elder_Oak_Watcher,” “Pixie_Phenomenon,” and “Darkthorn_Dreamweaver” and can’t help but wonder if your fandom has fully committed to your fantasy vibe. You chalk it up to hardcore fans. Nothing suspicious, right?

The agency celebrates by booking more venues, announcing a new merch line, and—wait for it—a raffle event for a day with you. You’re thrilled but mostly relieved that things are finally looking up.

Cut to the Briar Valley, where Malleus gets wind of the fan meeting announcement. His eyes practically sparkle with delight.

“I have a chance to spend time with them?” he murmurs, clutching the announcement poster like it’s a sacred artifact.

“Of course, you do!” Lilia chimes in, grinning. “And if you’re really eager, I could help improve your odds.”

Silver, overhearing, asks. “Are we really doing this?”

“It’s for young master Malleus!” Sebek hisses, practically vibrating with devotion. “If he wishes to meet this human, we will ensure he wins that raffle! Even if I don’t understand why he’d—” He pauses, scowling. “—lower himself to that level for a human.”

Lilia waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, Sebek, let Malleus enjoy his hobby! It’s rare to see him so enchanted. Besides, a bit of human culture never hurt anyone!”

Silver shrugs, giving Malleus a supportive smile. “If this makes you happy, Malleus, we’ll all enter on your behalf.”

Sebek bristles. “Very well, if it is the young master’s wish, I, too, shall enter—though I don’t understand this human obsession.”

Lilia claps him on the shoulder. “Consider it a show of loyalty to the crown.”

Sebek mutters something about “weird human tastes” but agrees nonetheless. And with that, your raffle odds have just quadrupled, courtesy of the most enthusiastic and unhinged fae entourage you never knew you needed.

Malleus beams, and for once, the usual silence in Briar Valley is replaced with something very unexpected: the excited murmurs their prince getting ready for his ultimate fan meeting.

It’s your first “Unboxing Fan Mail!” livestream, and you’re bubbling with excitement as you tear through letters and packages. You’re halfway through reading a pile of cute fan letters when one catches your eye: an envelope with a hand-drawn gargoyle. This thing has personality.

“Whoa…,” you mutter as you carefully open it. Inside, you find a letter, written in such flowery, old-fashioned cursive you almost need a magnifying glass. Clearing your throat, you read a part of it aloud:

"Your craft has brought light and delight to the shadows of our realm. It is rare to encounter such reverence and elegance in a human. Know that your courage and respect have earned you an esteemed place in the hearts of those from lands beyond mortal reach. Enclosed is a token of my admiration—a rose from my homeland, blessed to be as timeless as the admiration I hold for you.

Sincerely,

M.D.”

It takes a second for the words to fully sink in. Your gaze drifts to the box sitting beside you, which you unwrap with careful fingers. Inside lies a single Briar rose—its petals dark and lush, radiating a faint magical shimmer that tells you this is no ordinary gift. The rose feels alive, pulsing softly with ancient magic. You gently lift it, brushing a fingertip along the petal’s edge, feeling the cool, unyielding softness.

And suddenly, you feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Oh… wow,” you manage, voice wavering. You blink back tears but don’t quite succeed, pressing a hand to your mouth in a mix of joy and disbelief. “Thank you so much, M.D. This is… this is beautiful. I don’t even have words.”

Back in the Briar Valley, Malleus is watching the livestream playback with his usual calm demeanor… until he sees you crying. His face falls, and he looks at Lilia, horrified. “Did I… upset them? My letter was meant to honor them, not… bring tears.” He’s practically pale. Well, paler than usual.

“Oh, don’t fret,” Lilia chimes in with a laugh, patting Malleus on the shoulder. “They’re just happy! Look how much they loved it. You brought them pure joy!”

Malleus blinks. “So… I have not offended them?”

“Far from it! In fact,” Lilia says with a knowing smirk, “I think you’re officially their number one fan.”

Malleus’s eyes narrow with sudden, unshakeable determination. “Of course, I am,” he says, as if this is the most obvious truth in the world. “Who else could claim that title?”

You have no idea what you've gotten into.

It’s your first concert. The crowd is buzzing, their voices creating a low hum that vibrates through the walls, yet you’re backstage with a knot in your stomach that feels about the size of a boulder.

You shift from foot to foot, hands clammy as you grip the mic, wondering if this is actually a good idea or if you should just make a break for it now and head for the hills.

A voice echoes through the earpiece: “Three minutes, everyone!”

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself as the band gives you encouraging nods. All those years of training, of dreaming, of rehearsing until your feet felt like they’d fall off—this is what it was for.

Your fans are out there, waiting. You can already hear some of them chanting your name. And slowly, your nerves start to melt away, replaced by a surge of adrenaline.

The lights dim. You step onto the stage, heart pounding, and the audience erupts. Thousands of people, waving lights and singing the opening notes of your debut song back to you.

The energy washes over you, filling every corner of your soul, and suddenly there’s no room left for doubt.

The music pours out of you, and the crowd’s response is instant, electric. They're clapping, cheering, and singing along. You almost forget to breathe as you realize—they know every word.

It’s in the middle of your second song, during a moment where the lights are shining right on the front row, that you spot something peculiar.

Wait… Are those… fae?

Not just one, but three of them. And they’re not your typical, “blending in” kind of fans, either. One of them—the tall one with the horns—looks like he’s just stepped out of some mythical kingdom (which, granted, he kind of has). There’s an unmissable aura around him, and his eyes are fixed on you like you’re the most mesmerizing sight he’s ever seen.

The other two fae are close by, each one unique but unmistakably not human. And a very sleepy human is nodding off standing there.

You try to keep performing, but your heart’s pounding for a new reason now. The tall fae—he’s so intense. There’s something captivating, almost otherworldly, in the way he’s watching you, like he’s fully captured by your music. It’s a bit like he belongs here and also… really doesn’t. Yet somehow, he makes it work.

Finally, you reach the interaction part of the concert, the moment where you get to pick a “lucky fan” from the crowd for a backstage pass at your next show. Your mind goes blank for a second as you look over the crowd, but the sight of those fae at the front makes your decision easy. You raise a hand, pointing directly at the tall one, still staring at you with that intense look in his eyes.

You can feel the collective shock from the crowd as you exclaim, “You! Yes, at the front! You’re the lucky winner!”

The tall fae’s eyes widen ever so slightly, a look of pure delight crossing his face as his friends react with either shock or something bordering on exasperation. He steps forward a bit, visibly thrilled, and nods to you as if he’s just received the highest honor imaginable.

Lilia, standing beside Malleus, gives a knowing chuckle. “My, my, our prince has been blessed by fortune,” he teases.

Sebek, looking utterly scandalized, hisses, “The Young Master? At a human’s concert again? With a… backstage pass?” His voice drips with disbelief.

Silver, with a half-smile, murmurs, “Well, he does look happy. That’s what matters, right?”

And Malleus, basking in the moment, seems too happy to notice their reactions. He meets your gaze, nodding as if to say, Yes, it is I, your devoted fan.

And suddenly, you’re beaming, too, because in this moment, you realize—you’re not just performing for humans. You’ve captured the attention of beings beyond the mortal world, and something about that feels… magical.

It’s the day of your next concert, and you’re backstage, mentally preparing yourself. You’d think after the first show, the nerves would be easier to handle, but that flutter of excitement is still there. Just as you’re rehearsing a few last lines, your manager bursts in, a mix of terror and wild enthusiasm lighting up his face.

“You… you’ve got to see this,” he stammers, pulling you toward the edge of the curtain.

“Uh, okay?” You’re confused, but you follow him to peek out onto the crowd.

What you see is not what you expected.

The venue is packed. And not just with your usual audience—no, tonight, the crowd is full of fae. Like, really full of fae. A sprinkle of beastmen, a handful of humans (who look varying levels of petrified), but the overwhelming majority? Fae of every type.

You spot wings, horns, a few floating orbs of light that might just be small fae spirits, and an array of gleaming, wide eyes that are laser-focused on the stage.

In the front row, you catch sight of a familiar face. The tall fae with horns who won your backstage pass last time—he’s here, and still utterly entranced. On impulse, you give a little wave, feeling a bit silly, but somehow unable to resist.

To your surprise, he just stands there, looking stunned, until the black-haired fae next to him nudges him with an elbow. Then, almost shyly, he lifts his hand and waves back.

From Malleus’s perspective, everything is perfect. His people have fallen under your spell just as he has. Watching you emerge to greet the crowd, he’s already enraptured.

You look out into the audience, and then—to his amazement—you look right at him and wave. He freezes, utterly smitten, until Lilia nudges him. After a second, he waves back, his heart doing something he’s quite sure it’s never done before.

The concert begins, and it’s an experience beyond anything you’ve known. The fae audience is surprisingly intense—they’re quiet during the softer moments, like they’re absorbing every note, and then wildly enthusiastic during the high-energy parts.

For a second, you wonder if your music has some kind of magic in it, too. Their reaction fuels your own performance, until the final note echoes out and the crowd erupts in applause.

Then comes the moment of truth: the backstage pass winner’s meet and greet.

You’re resting in the designated room, savoring a post-concert cookie when you hear… raised voices?

“Only the winner is allowed in!” your security guard insists, sounding exasperated.

“And I’m telling you,” someone snaps back, “I won’t allow my master to go in alone to meet a human!”

Curious, you step out to find the same quartet from the front row having a tense standoff with security. The tall one—the same one who keeps catching your eye—looks as serene as ever, while his silver-haired friend seems half-asleep despite the commotion. You raise a hand. “It’s okay! Let them all in.”

The guard reluctantly steps aside, and the four file into the room. There’s an awkward pause as they stare at you, clearly debating who should introduce themselves first. The tall one steps forward, and you offer a small smile.

“So… we finally meet. What’s your name?”

“Malleus,” he says, his voice deep and slightly reverent. “Malleus Draconia.”

You’re about to respond when he holds out a hand—a hesitant, almost formal gesture. Before you can shake it, the green-haired fae scowls, clearly offended. “That’s His Highness to you, Don't causally touch him human!”

You freeze mid-motion. Highness? Fae Royalty?

“Yes,” Malleus says mildly, “though I’d rather you not call me that right now, Sebek. This is a personal occasion.”

“Oh, you’re… royalty.” You take a very controlled breath, willing yourself not to faint.

Malleus nods, completely unfazed, though Lilia snickers under his breath and gives you a little wave. “I apologize if that was not clear before. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You regain your composure. You're a professional. “Right, royalty. Got it. No big deal.” (It’s a huge deal, but you can scream into your pillow later.)

That's when it clicks. M.D, Malleus Draconia, Fae Prince.

In an attempt to break the tension(and to not spiral), you say, “By the way, I loved the little gargoyle you drew on the letter you sent me. It was cute.”

Malleus blinks, visibly taken aback. “You… liked the gargoyle?”

You nod, smiling. “They’re nice to look at.”

For a second, Malleus just stares, and it feels like his entire face is starting to glow. “You appreciate gargoyles?” he says, in a tone that sounds like you’ve just admitted you’re secretly royalty, too.

“Uh, yeah. They’re kinda cool.” You laugh, and Malleus looks like he’s been blessed by every possible deity.

Meanwhile, Sebek mutters something vaguely exasperated, and you catch a snippet: “This human has actually caught the his interest…”

Lilia laughs, giving Malleus a playful nudge. “Well, isn’t that something? I guess you truly are their number one fan, Malleus.”

Malleus nods seriously. “Of course. I am honored to be recognized as such.” His eyes gleam with utter sincerity.

You chat a bit more, exchanging small talk, until you mention offhandedly that your company has been discussing hosting a concert near Briar Valley due to the recent increase in fae fans. Malleus immediately perks up.

“Oh, well, you should simply perform in Briar Valley,” he says, as if offering his personal venue is as easy as lending a pen.

“Wait… seriously?” You look at him, not sure if he’s joking.

“Of course,” Malleus replies earnestly. “I would be delighted to arrange it. As the prince… and your number one fan.” His eyes are so bright and genuine, you can’t help but laugh.

“All right, I’d love that,” you say, heartily amused and impossibly charmed.

As they start to leave, an idea pops into your head. “Hey, Malleus, do you want a picture together?”

He blinks, clearly surprised. “A picture? I… would be honored.”

You take out your phone, getting into position, and then, on a whim, you lean over and kiss him on the cheek right as you snap the photo.

From the doorway, Sebek lets out a scandalized squawk, and your manager looks like he’s about to pass out. But Malleus? He’s wide-eyed, staring at you like you’ve granted him the greatest gift in existence.

With a wink, you murmur, “Consider it a special gift for my biggest fan.”

For a second, Malleus just stands there, wide-eyed, and then, slowly, a delighted, utterly smitten smile spreads across his face.

The concert in Briar Valley turns out to be way more fun than you could’ve ever imagined. You were nervous at first—after all, you’re literally performing in a hidden fae realm with the kind of audience that probably doesn’t even need speakers to hear you.

But once you get started, the vibe is incredible. The fae are enthusiastic, cheering and applauding in that slightly mystical way they have. Their clapping sounds like wind chimes, and every so often, you think you see little trails of magic light in the crowd.

And right in the front row, like always, is Malleus Draconia. He’s the picture of regal elegance, standing out in his official Briar Valley attire, looking like he’s attending some kind of royal ceremony. You’d almost laugh at the contrast—Malleus, dignified and regal, surrounded by a crowd absolutely hyped for a pop concert. And, because you can’t resist, you give him a cheeky wink mid-song.

Malleus doesn’t miss a beat; he looks like he’s been struck by some sort of enchantment himself. His cheeks faintly color, but he doesn’t look away, a faint, dazed smile on his face. He’s living his best fanboy life, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy every second of his reaction.

After the concert ends, Malleus insists on personally escorting you around Briar Valley. You’re beyond thrilled—after all, it’s not every day that a fae prince offers to give you a tour of his homeland. Sebek and Silver, ever loyal, trail behind, with Sebek grumbling under his breath every five seconds about “proper decorum” and “human interactions.”

Meanwhile, Lilia is there for the pure entertainment of it all, throwing you little mischievous grins whenever you glance back at him.

As you’re strolling down a cobblestone path lined with Briar roses, you feel the first drop of rain on your cheek. “Oh no, I didn’t bring an umbrella…”

But the second you say it, there’s a flurry of movement. Malleus, Sebek, Silver, and Lilia all open umbrellas in perfect unison, like some kind of magical boy band choreography. Sebek even has an extra umbrella on standby, which he’s holding out to you with a solemn look.

But before you can notice it, Malleus shoots him a look that could probably summon a thunderstorm, and Sebek reluctantly withdraws, muttering darkly under his breath about “Etiquette.”

Meanwhile, Lilia, never one to miss an opportunity, flings the extra umbrella into a bush with a casual flick of his wrist before you can even notice.

He turns to Silver and Sebek with a bright grin, “Come now, let’s give the two some space! Isn’t it so romantic?” Sebek looks horrified, about to argue, but Lilia’s already dragging him and Silver away, leaving you alone with Malleus.

So now it’s just the two of you, standing in the rain, with Malleus holding his large, intricately decorated umbrella over both of you. The umbrella’s big enough that it shields you from the rain easily, but that doesn’t stop Malleus from stepping a little closer, just to be sure.

There’s an awkward, giddy silence as you continue to walk side by side. You can feel the warmth radiating from him, and your hands brush against each other occasionally. Finally, he clears his throat and says, “Did you enjoy the concert? Briar Valley’s… first, of this sort.”

“Oh, definitely!” you say, grinning. “It was amazing to see so many fae enjoying the music. And you were right up front! You didn’t have to—”

“It was… my pleasure,” Malleus replies, his deep voice a little softer than usual. “I wanted to see everything as closely as possible.” There’s an endearing awkwardness to him that only makes him more captivating.

From the moment you met him, you thought Malleus was just a really dedicated fan—sweet, if a bit intense, but ultimately adorable. Sure, he’s got that tall, dark, and slightly terrifying vibe with the horns and the whole royal aura, but he’s also so polite and gentle that you can’t help but find it cute.

But now, as you walk under the same umbrella, his warmth just inches away, it hits you with sudden clarity. Oh, I am so, so screwed.

Because you might like him a little bit. Scratch that—a lot a bit.

Malleus glances at you, noticing the sudden shift in your expression. “Is something amiss?” His voice is gentle, genuinely concerned.

“Oh! No, I’m fine. Just, uh, a little tired from the show,” you say quickly, brushing it off.

Malleus doesn’t look entirely convinced but accepts your answer with a soft nod. Then, almost shyly, he extends his hand. “Here. It’s quite cold… if you’d like…”

You stare down at his offered hand, feeling your pulse jump. It’s such a small, polite gesture, but it sends your heart racing. You slip your hand into his, feeling his warmth seep into your skin, and a small smile tugs at your lips.

As you walk together under the umbrella, Lilia, peeking from behind a corner with a very exasperated Sebek in tow, smirks to himself. "Ah, young love," he sighs dramatically, as if he were watching a play unfold.

Back under the umbrella, Malleus is telling you about the history of Briar Valley, his voice gentle and filled with pride. You don’t catch half of it because you’re too focused on the way he looks down at you, his eyes soft and completely captivated. Every so often, he leans in a little closer, as if he can’t help himself.

Eventually, you reach the end of the walk, the rain easing off, and Malleus turns to you, looking slightly hesitant. “I hope this evening has been enjoyable for you… I wished for you to see the beauty of Briar Valley, but I… I fear I may have monopolized your time.”

You laugh softly. “Oh, trust me, I think you’re doing a great job of showing me around. Plus,” you add, “it’s not so bad sharing an umbrella with my biggest fan.”

Malleus’s expression lights up, a rare, breathtaking smile breaking across his face. “Yes,” he agrees softly, almost to himself. “Your… biggest fan.”

Before they leave, you impulsively pull out your phone. “Hey, Malleus, would you like to take another picture together? You know, as a memory of Briar Valley?”

Malleus’s eyes widen slightly, but he nods. “I would… like that very much.”

You pose, holding up your phone, and just as you snap the picture, he looks at you with a strange spark in his eyes, he leans over, just barely hesitating, and presses a gentle kiss to your cheek.

Now you’re the one who freezes, absolutely flustered but trying very hard to play it off. You clear your throat, laugh a little too brightly, and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as if it’s no big deal. “W-Well, um, I guess we’re even now!” you stammer, hoping he doesn’t notice the warmth creeping up your face.

Malleus gives you a small, satisfied smile, clearly pleased with your reaction, while Sebek is beside himself, practically vibrating at a frequency that could power one of your concerts, as he splutters, “YOUNG MASTER, THIS IS—YOU CAN’T JUST—A HUMAN—”

But Lilia just laughs, giving Sebek a playful whack on the back. “Come now, Sebek, it’s all in good fun!"

Sebek looks torn between yelling and fainting, muttering to himself about propriety and why, oh why, would the young master be so entranced by a human?!

You just barely manage to keep it together until they leave, but the second you’re alone, you collapse onto the nearest couch, burying your face in a pillow with a ridiculous grin plastered across your face. Because Malleus Draconia, fae prince and possibly the most loyal fan you’ve ever met, just kissed you on the cheek.

Somehow, you know this is just the beginning.

The fan forum has always been your little comfort zone. You’ve got your dedicated fans, who post lovingly questionable fan art, some surprisingly deep theories about your lyrics, and even the occasional meme thread.

Today, though, you’ve decided to go on a bit of a lurking spree. You want to see what people really think—especially the critics. And you do find critics, of course, all happily airing out their grievances. But what you didn’t expect is the replies.

Each negative comment has an oddly formal, razor-sharp response that’s practically dripping with eloquent disdain, all signed "M.D." You read on, completely baffled until it dawns on you: this is Malleus.

This prince has taken it upon himself to haunt your comment section, like a very sophisticated, slightly unhinged ghost. You try to keep from snickering too loudly as you scroll through his hilarious, painfully dignified rebuttals.

I-like-snails: “I don’t understand the hype. This idol is all looks, no talent.”

M.D.: “Your failure to comprehend excellence in its truest form is unfortunate. To imply that this individual relies solely on appearance demonstrates an astonishing lack of insight. Consider expanding your understanding of ‘talent.’ Signed, M.D.”

real-idol-fan: “I’ve seen cooler concepts than this ‘gothic fantasy’ nonsense. So pretentious.”

M.D.: “Ah, but what is more pretentious, dear critic? To appreciate grandeur or to boast of one’s ‘cool’ concepts with all the subtlety of a loud footstep in the night? Gothic fantasy, as you call it, possesses a depth your mind has yet to comprehend. Signed, M.D.”

aura-aura: “This idol’s lyrics don’t even make sense. They’re just trying to sound deep.”

M.D.: “An intellect as shallow as a millpond would indeed struggle to navigate profound lyrical waters. I urge you to revisit the lyrics in question after reading a book or two on metaphor. Signed, M.D.”

You have to clutch your sides as you scroll through the thread. The idea of Malleus, a literal prince, defending you with words like “millpond intellect” and signing every single comment with his initials—it’s ridiculous.

Ridiculous and, at the same time, ridiculously touching. You’d never asked him to do this, never even thought he’d care about what random people thought of you, but here he is, waging a dignified, solo war in the fan forum trenches.

After several minutes, you take a deep breath and manage to calm down, even though you know you’re never going to look at your fan forum the same way again.

It's interview time and things are going smoothly. You’re answering questions about your latest song, about the creative process behind the music videos. All very normal stuff—until the interviewer grins, pulls out a picture, and holds it up for you to see.

You squint and realize, with dawning horror, that it’s the photo. The one of you and Malleus standing close under the same umbrella, him looking at you like you hung the stars and you, very clearly, smiling back at him. Whoever took it managed to capture a moment that looks... well, almost romantic.

"So," the interviewer says, leaning in with a gleam in their eye, "is this someone special?"

You’re ready to laugh it off, to dismiss it casually with a polite “no,” but... you freeze. Looking at that photo, at the way Malleus is watching you, something catches in your throat. “No, of course not” dies on your lips.

Your mind rewinds to all the times he’s shown up, how he’s silently supported you, those comments on the forum—and suddenly, you can’t deny it, not even to yourself.

“No comment,” you manage to say, but it sounds weak, even to you.

The interviewer’s brow arches, and they chuckle knowingly. Meanwhile, you’re scrambling internally. Oh no. Oh no, you’re in trouble. You’re in deep trouble.

The raffle winner is announced, and your mouth drops open when you hear the name. “Malleus Draconia!” Your eyes scan the crowd and—yep, there he is, beaming in a way that could light up an entire stadium, looking like he’s won the lottery.

Well, technically, he has, but there’s something about his expression that suggests this is the best moment of his life. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you feel the universe smirking, because it knows exactly what it’s doing by sending you this unattainable, royally handsome fae prince.

You’d had some time to think since that interview. The photo, the “no comment,” the dawning horror in your gut as you realized that yes, you’re down bad. Horrifically so. In the week since the interview, you’d come to accept it. The only issue? He's so out of your league, it’s practically laughable.

Meanwhile, Malleus is practically vibrating with excitement. As soon as his name was drawn, half of his kingdom exploded in celebratory fanfare. (To be fair, most of the Briar Valley population had entered the raffle in his name. “Statistical advantage,” Lilia had called it.)

By the time he gets home, he’s already lining up outfits, preparing what he calls “appropriate tokens of affection.”

“Perhaps... a small gargoyle?” he muses, clutching a miniature stone sculpture that weighs about as much as a small human child.

Silver clears his throat. “Maybe... consider something less... heavy?”

Undeterred, Malleus sighs but places the gargoyle back, moving on to his backup plan: a solid gold gargoyle instead.

Lilia, in the background, chimes in with, “Just give them a rock and say it’s a Briar Valley special!” Malleus ignores him.

The day arrives, and you’re waiting at a cafe for Malleus. The producers are buzzing around, setting up lights and cameras for some wholesome footage to share with your fans. You’re running through the usual script in your mind, but then Malleus walks in, looking... well, looking like Malleus. Tall, regal, glowing with excitement, and completely out of place in the modern cafe.

You’re trying to keep your cool, reminding yourself that he’s just a fan here to meet his favorite idol, but when he brushes his hand against yours as he takes his seat, you’re thrown into chaos. Wide-eyed, flustered chaos. In fact, you’re so visibly affected that one of the producers has to muffle a squeal.

You glance at Malleus, and for a second, it’s like the two of you are in your own little world, oblivious to the cameras. You’re laughing, he’s smiling in that polite but endlessly fascinated way, and it feels like the meet-cute scene in every cheesy K-drama ever made.

After the cafe, the producers decide to set up at a bowling alley. It’s cute, casual, and definitely low-stakes—or so you think. You explain the game rules to Malleus, who nods in solemn understanding. Then, you hand him a bowling ball and stand back, figuring he’ll get the hang of it soon enough.

Except... Malleus does not get the hang of it.

He lifts the ball with such enthusiasm and raw power that when he bowls, it lands with a thunderous bang. The ball rockets down the lane like it’s been launched out of a medieval trebuchet, shattering the pins with explosive force and completely obliterating the machinery behind them.

The bowling alley is plunged into silence. Even the producers are speechless.

You, however, are not. You burst out laughing so hard, tears actually stream down your cheeks, and you double over, clutching your stomach. Malleus, meanwhile, looks at the wreckage he’s caused with a sheepish expression and asks, “Did I... do it wrong?”

You’re still laughing too hard to answer. His expression is priceless—equal parts apologetic and baffled. For all the confusion on his face, he’s smiling too, in that warm, captivated way, like every sound of your laughter is worth all the destroyed bowling alleys in the world.

One of the crew members has to remind you both to stop standing in the wreckage.

After the... eventful bowling alley scene, you suggest something calmer, like feeding ducks at the park. You arrive with a bag of crumbs, ready for a relaxed, picturesque afternoon.

Malleus seems thrilled at the prospect of feeding these “quaint little birds.” He declares “I will bestow upon them many crumbs.”

But, as it turns out, ducks seem to be as unnaturally drawn to Malleus as your fanbase is to you.

The ducks start waddling toward you, sure, but when Malleus bends down to offer a handful of crumbs, they completely mob him. You watch in bewildered amusement as the ducks clamber onto him, flapping and honking, climbing his shoulders, even perching on his head like he’s the world’s fanciest scarecrow.

“I... seem to be... a duck magnet,” he murmurs, looking helplessly at you, as if apologizing for attracting every duck within a ten-mile radius. He’s totally overwhelmed, but also somehow completely fine with it. If you find this amusing, then it’s a noble cause in his mind.

They hop onto his lap, perch on his shoulders, and one brave little duck even nestles itself on his head, honking proudly as it looks down at him.

You’re giggling again, snapping photos with your phone as he stands there, a bemused fae prince turned accidental duck king. Malleus, standing there covered in feathery chaos, looks up at you, his expression softening at the sight of your laughter. You think you see the smile on his lips, and you’re certain this day can’t get any better.

Dinner with Malleus feels like the culmination of every daydream you’ve ever had and every moment you tried to ignore the thrill he gives you. The restaurant is all soft lighting and quiet music, and you’re seated across from him, barely able to touch your food because you’re too busy trying not to stare. Or at least, not to make it obvious you’re staring.

But it’s impossible not to. Malleus, in the soft glow of the candles, looks ethereal in a way that’s borderline unfair. He’s taken off his usual high-collared cloak, and he’s looking at you with an openness that feels both heart-wrenching and unbelievably warm. His eyes hold that steady, unwavering gaze that has you feeling more exposed than any stage spotlight.

You’re talking about something light—music, maybe, or the utterly ridiculous game of bowling earlier. But the words are just filler, a flimsy attempt to distract yourself from the absolute burning feeling in your chest, a feeling you’re starting to realize is a little too big to be brushed aside.

It’s love.

It’s as terrifying as it is exhilarating. You’re looking at him, and it’s all you can do to not reach across the table, grab his hand, and say something incredibly unhinged like, “Hi, you don’t know it yet, but we’re soulmates.”

He leans in, head tilted as he listens to you with that pure, undivided attention. And then, his lips quirk into a faint smile, and you’re done for. Absolutely, completely done for.

Dinner wraps up, and he offers you his arm as you both leave the restaurant and step into the cool night. You take it, fingers curling around his elbow, and feel the warmth of him through the fabric.

The street is quiet, and the moon is hanging low, casting an almost dreamlike glow over everything. And you—well, you’re looking at him like he’s the moon itself, like he’s the only thing worth looking at in the whole universe.

You’re walking slowly, so slowly it feels like the moment is stretching forever, but somehow that’s not enough. You can’t stand it; you can’t stand just holding his arm and pretending this feeling isn’t eating you alive. So, finally, you stop, turn to him, and without even a thought to what this might mean for your career or the scandal it could stir, you say, “Malleus?”

He looks down at you, eyes soft, waiting.

And you just… go for it. You lean up, heart pounding so hard it’s a miracle he can’t hear it, and kiss him.

The world stands still. For a second, you wonder if you’ve overstepped, if maybe he’s going to pull away or question you or—

But then he’s kissing you back. Immediately. Thoroughly. His hand rises to cup your cheek, and he leans in with a gentleness that completely undoes you. You feel the warmth of him, the tenderness in his touch, and it’s enough to make your knees weak.

When you finally pull away, breathless, you look up to find him watching you with an expression that’s somewhere between wonder and the same sort of ache you’re feeling.

And right now, the only thing that makes sense is to kiss him again.

So you do.

This time, it’s softer, slower, like you’re both savoring it, letting the world fall away until it’s just you and him in the middle of the quiet, moonlit street.

When you finally pull back again, there’s a lingering silence. You don’t know what to say. How do you explain to someone that you’re completely undone by them? That you’re staring at him and barely restraining yourself from saying things like, “Let’s make matching T-shirts,” and “You’re my favorite human being, even if you’re technically not human.”

He’s still gazing at you, lips curved in that barely-there smile, looking utterly unphased yet somehow entirely aware of the fact that you’re melting. He’s looking at you like you’re something delicate, something precious, and it’s honestly making you want to pull him down and kiss him senseless all over again.

But instead, you just laugh, quiet and breathless. He raises a brow, a faint smirk playing at his lips. “Are you laughing at me?” he asks, in a tone that’s half curious, half amused.

“No,” you say, “I’m just… realizing something.”

“And what’s that?”

You look at him, eyes shining, and feel that burning again, that truth too big to ignore. “I’m completely in love with you.”

He doesn’t look shocked; instead, he just leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. And in that moment, you feel it again—the absolute certainty that you’re screwed. Because here’s a man who looks at you like you’re his whole world, and now that you’ve had a taste of this—of him—there’s no going back.

Masterlist

[kunikame]

omg hi, just wanted to ask if you're continuing purple lilacs, like i'm literally addicted to it 😭 (no pressure btw love your works)

hiiii nonnie! yes i am !! ive been kinda busy since i just started uni so its on hiatus for now but ill definitely try to write when i have the chance, dont worry !! && thank you im very glad you like them !!! ^^

[kunikame]

hey gabri have i ever told u i love u

a day in your life in twisted wonderland

synopsis: random twts with your fave first year

pairing: ace x streamer!reader

other versions (coming soon❗️): second years | third years

first years version: deuce spade | jack howl | epel felmier | sebek zigvolt

note: small update while on portfolio duty !! divider credits goes to @cafekitsune ❤️ i want to put everyone but we have picture limit 😭

[kunikame]

ive become so inactive the sexbots are starting to follow me again 😭😭😭

[kunikame]

“who wears the pants in the relationship?”

an interviewer asked you and katsuki as you sat side by side. you could only smile as your hand moved to support your head. katsuki pretended to think as he eyed you from the side.

you, who had asked him on your first date in a moment of impulse, choosing when, where, and how you were going to go on your date. a habit that bled into your relationship even now, with most outings being orchestrated by you, and a katsuki who was just happy to spend time with you.

you, who made all the serious design choices about the house. he let you take the reign as you chose things from the flooring, the tiles, the countertops, and researched to find an interior designer who fit both your taste and his.

you, who were the big spoon in every capacity. he'd lay his head on your lap as you lay on the couch, pulling your hands into his hair as to prompt you to play with it. when he came home late at night, he'd find refuge laying in your chest, almost always waking you up and he wrapped your arms around him and fell asleep to the sound of your heartbeat.

you, who always had the final say in an argument. katsuki and you hated fighting, he always acted out of anger and grew to regret it. yet, you'd always be the one to decide when the conversation was over. with a hand, or a simple word, you'd each take a break and reconcile when you said it was time.

“hm, this is a tough one.” he muttered, his hand covering the smirk of his mouth as he pretended there was any real chance it was him. you read him like a book, you always could, seeing red eyes staring at you and knowing you both had the same answer.

though, he knew the fact that he hailed your opinion as the highest sealed his fate. media, his publicists, even all might himself, none of their words held a pinch of truth next to yours. your word was final not only in arguments but in his problems, in his insecurity, in his worries. you silenced them all, with a few words usually paired by a kiss.

his hand fell off his mouth and on to hold yours, as he relented. “‘s definitely her.”

[kunikame]

LEATHER AND LACE - TRACK 04

TRACK 04 - guess who!

SYNOPSIS- obanai iguro, sanemi shinazugawa, and y/n l/n started their band Hit So Hard when they were sixteen. now, almost ten years later and with four albums under their belt, they’re ready to compose another. the process should come easy, especially because they already have songs written that they want to include. writing new ones, though? well, it’s proving to be just a little difficult this time around…until they start finding inspiration in one another.

BONUSES

okay just introduced like five million plot lines BEAR WITH ME PLEASE!!! just needa set these things up yk 🙂‍↕️

sanemi and obanai WILL be on yn’s ass right after ts

kyo and giyuu have already started brainstorming. shinobu love club 😣

yn begging their friends to go out w them will be a reoccurring problem…

TAGLIST - open.

@kunikame

tracklist. prev track. next track.

© NEMIISM do not translate, modify, or repost my work.

[kunikame]

5 times he thought he was the sun, and the 1 he realized he wasn't. - deuce s.

warnings : mostly deuce centric, angst, fluff, middle school deuce, violence mention, ace trappola, astral imagery and references (ITS MY TRADEMARK TRUST ME OK), im not sorry w/c : 2,448

1. when his mom said so.

it is a universally known fact that deuce spade is a “mama’s boy”. he is anything but ashamed of this, on the contrary, he carries the title with pride. his mother was the one who raised him and took care of him all his life, the least he can do is be proud of that and strive to be the best he can, so her efforts don’t go to waste.

this, he comes to realize in his middle school years, after witnessing his mother crying over his wounds first hand. she had berated him many times for being a “punk” and “gangster” (her words, not his), but he’s never seen her cry, no matter how bad things were.

so he strove to do better.

fueled by the pure and unfiltered shame and guilt pooling at the pit of his stomach, he sat as his mother bandaged his wounds, her tears mixing with the salve and blood streaming down his knuckles. in his defense, the guy totally deserved the beating he got, but he no longer believes it was worth it– not if the end result was his dearly beloved mother shedding tears over him.

the salve stung more than it normally did on that day.

over the next couple weeks he made sure to cut ties with all his friends and avoided getting into unreasonable fights like the bubonic plague. it was a bit hard, he admits, since all middle school kids are assholes who sometimes deserve a nice punch in the face, but he had to hold himself back and be good– an honor student.

as yet another fightless school day ended, a distant memory he seemed to have long forgotten and classified as “not important” resurfaced. 

if he remembers correctly, he was about 8 at the time, just having learnt the concept of space and planets and the solar system in geography class. they had a ritual, his mother and him– as they walked home after classes ended hand in hand, tiny deuce would retell his entire day in great detail as his mother listened attentively and added her own comments sometimes. that's when he told her about the sun and how it was the center of everything.

suddenly sweet little deuce stopped in his tracks, an expression clearly showing he was deep in thought (and effectively overloading his brain, he will definitely need to take a nap later) etched on his face. he then looked up at her with sparkling eyes, and asked “does that mean im your sun, mama?”

the blue haired woman stunned for a mere moment, only to laugh so sweetly deuce berates himself for ever forgetting this dear, precious memory, “yes, darling. yes, you are.”

8 year old deuce thought he would never be happier.

he, however, failed to realize the sun tends to be red, perhaps orange.

never blue.

2. when people avoided him while staying in his orbit.

deuce has always considered himself a people magnet, for better or worse.

in middle school he was feared with friends few and far between, but despite being actively avoided by most of the student body, they still somehow, some way, gravitated towards him for one reason or another.

despite beating people up being his most common activity, deuce spade loved helping people. his mother raised him to always be mindful of others and help when he can, so he did just that– though sometimes in.. less academically acceptable means. 

he didn’t just fight for fun, don’t get him wrong. he preferred to bring justice where it was due– to bullies. if one of his classmates was being bullied in front of him, he couldn’t just sit back and watch when he had 2 perfectly functioning hands and the offender a perfectly punchable face.

that is how deuce found himself feared, yet adored, at the same time. pulling people in while unintentionally pushing them away. 

at night raven college he was no longer feared, or adored. there were guys much scarier, more powerful than him, why would anyone be scared of a first year without his unique spell? why would he be adored without having done anything to be deserving of adoration? if anything, he was constantly causing problems instead. this is not how his plan of being an honor student was supposed to go.

his kind and– contrary to high school– chill nature did seem to still pull people towards him, though. he had changed a lot since his “punk” days, he was much calmer and friendlier now, which seemed to make it easier for people to approach him. that’s how he found himself making many new friends for this journey.

much like the sun with the planets, it’s trusty companions, deuce also had his.

he had, yet again, failed to realize the sun was less good natured than him.

3. when he got his unique spell.

deuce was truly overjoyed the day it happened. what made it even better was that he was the first of his new friend group to manifest it!

well, technically– jack already had his before he came to nrc, so he doesn’t really count. for pride's sake.

better yet, it’s a super useful and powerful spell! he’s sure to make his mom proud with this one, he thinks to himself as he walks down one of the many dark hallways the school holds, smiling all the while.

now he’ll be more useful if there’s another overblot– now he can protect people with his magic! without having to use his fists (though it would be for a good cause, he reasons)! 

now he can protect his dear magicless friend from harm, without having to rely on others too much.

many overblots have happened since you came here, and deuce has always felt bad he couldn’t do much to protect you, despite being a person in need and his promise to his mother. he thought himself too weak, which wasn’t too far from the truth– that much was proved in the actual battles. but now he has something more to him, something useful, and he’s going to milk the absolute most out of it. he’s going to hone his abilities even more to protect you, and others, better.

because that’s who he strives to be– one who protects, rather than one who harms. one who illuminates the darkest of days, one who shines in peril, one who saves.

much like the sun bestows it’s rays upon the earth, helping it flourish and grow and continue spinning.

he fails to notice the recent heatwave warnings.

4. when he kept his peers warm through the cold nights and days.

as previously mentioned, deuce saw himself as a kind of protector– to his friends and strangers alike. he saw a person in need, he helped, there was no deeper meaning, no poetic underlying translation to his actions.

it was simply second nature.

much like his mother used to put her hands on the edges of counters when he was under them, he, too, instinctively reaches to cover the edge of his desk when you lean down to pick up something you dropped.

contrary to popular belief, deuce spade is severely aware of his surroundings. he always keeps his eyes out for anything that might eventually bring harm to one of his fellow students, his neighbors, his mother, himself. he believes in good deeds returning to you one day, so he does his best to do as many of them as possible– seven know he’s going to need all the luck he can dig up for his finals.

the skills he picked up from his mother especially come in handy at times like these. if there’s any trinkets or machines at ramshackle that you need fixed but crowley doesn’t care and you simply can’t, deuce is lined up at the entrance and fixing it without you ever asking him to. if you mention something not working his mind is immediately preoccupied with finding ways to fix it as soon as possible.

he would rather fail a class than have one of his dear friends hurt over something he could’ve easily prevented had he been there.

so he keeps his eyes peeled and ears alert, observing and listening for any and all opportunities to be useful.

it was around winter time when the heating system at ramshackle broke down and you and grim barely had anything to keep yourselves warm. instead of your bedroom, you found yourself sleeping in the living room, right by the fireplace. the holes in the walls and shabby windows did not do much to keep the cold out, and despite the raging fire right in front of you, you still shivered and huddled further into your several layers of clothes and blankets.

once deuce found out, the first thing he did was curse crowley for being so irresponsible and refusing to fix it for you due to “low funding” (completely ignoring the fact you do all kinds of jobs for him without ever being paid more than what covers your monthly living expenses). the second thing was rush to ramshackle with a toolbox, fully intent on fixing it himself. he’s done it once before, surely he can do it again.

you slept in your warm bedroom again that night.

later, deuce woke in the middle of the night, having a dry throat and no water on his bedside table.

he snuck into the heartslabyul kitchen undetected, and once he refilled his glass, successfully made his way back to his room.

compared to the rest of the dorm, however, he noticed the room was awfully and oddly cold. that’s when he noticed the open window, and ace shivering in his bed.

deuce heaved a shivery sigh and headed to close the window, but he found himself stopping just short of it, glancing at his roommate still shivering, completely uncovered by his blanket. despite hating his guts, ace was still a close friend of his, so with another sigh he walked up to his bed and covered him again, much like his mother used to do to him.

much like the sun keeps the planets warm throughout the year.

he seems to have forgotten mercury is nearing incineration, while uranus and neptune are mostly frozen.

5. when he was akin to the morning light, soft and gentle.

deuce prided himself in being an early bird, he naturally rose with the sun.

maybe it was due to being used to being woken up by his mothers alarms, maybe he just developed this skill over the years– he himself is not entirely sure.

ace always complained about how he could be so energetic and alert in the mornings, while the redhead was completely out of it.

deuce took joy from being able to watch the sunrise. watching the colors of the sky slowly change in the morning energized him plenty for the day to come– it reminded him that no matter what happens, the sun will rise again tomorrow.

this morning, however, he is seeing it in an entirely different light.

him, ace, sebek, jack, epel and ortho had all spent the night at ramshackle at a first year sleepover, organized by you. admittedly, it was the most fun he’s had in a while– and not just him, either, since even sebek seemed to be coming out of his shell.

after the others had long gone to sleep, you stayed up with deuce to chat deep into the night, since you had no classes the next morning. you could allow yourself a little leisure.

deuce spade has never heard his voice be as soft as it was then. he had whispered with people many times in his life, but not once had he sounded so gentle, so tender while talking to someone.

that is when he finally realized something that he completely let slip by him, something he pinned as absolutely normal.

he realized how gentle he’s always been with you.

ever since you came here, deuce has always treated you with care– like you were something fragile, something he might accidentally break if he held it wrong. his hands were used to causing pain, after all.

but no, not with you. never you.

which is why you compared him to the morning light– because in your view, he was just that. something tranquil, something comforting, something that feels like home.

deuce treated you with love, an indescribable fondness behind his every action– something he himself seemed to miss, yet everyone else noticed.

much like the morning lights gentle rays, deuce spade caressed your face.

+ 1. when the moon's glow felt all too familiar.

when deuce opened his eyes that morning, he could immediately tell it would not be a good day.

the morning light did nothing to his exhaustion, and he felt awfully cold, despite it being spring.

as he walked up to his class, he was greeted by a group of people surrounding ace, murmuring about one thing or another. once he approached, the circle parted to let him through to his seat, and he noticed ace was simply performing his card tricks.

“hey, dude, good morning! look at this trick i came up with–”

as he watched his roommates hands carefully, intent on finding out the secret behind the trick, he blinked only once and suddenly it all clicked into place.

why the sun did nothing to him, why he felt so cold.

the sun wasn’t his.

that was simply it, the sun was not his, deuce spade was never the sun– ace trappola was.

whenever a crowd of people surrounded deuce, ace was there. ace kept people cheerful and entertained throughout the days, deuce only kept them warm at night. 

ace trappola was bright, vivid, warm, eye-catching, red.

deuce spade was dim, cool, easy to miss, blue.

ace trappola was everything deuce was not, but everything he wished to be. 

and yet, one could not function without the other. deuce needed ace as much as ace needed him– they complimented each other perfectly, be as it may.

through the envy pooling in the pit of his stomach, he mustered up a smile and praised the redhead for his newest trick, applauded even. through the envy he watched as ace lit up, shining brighter than the sun in the window right next to his head, and he realized he could never compete over something he could never do.

he could never do what ace trappola does as effortlessly as breathing.

although quite similar in nature, the moon could never do what the sun does naturally. 

and, perhaps, the moon, too, had once wished to be the sun.

ੈ✩₊˚TAGLIST : @lunavixia @solxima @gabirii @erigaur @pomegranateboba //ask/comment or fill form to be added/removed! (if you're in bold i can't tag you)

[kunikame]

warmth of the sun embodied in you. - ace t.

warnings : mostly narration, astral references, malleus mention, ace is my muse my most beloved im sorry i will never shut up about him, i love the sun i love ace trappola w/c : 1045

there was always something about ace trappola that simply demanded attention. 

it wasn’t something easy to spot, something visible to the naked eye– no, it was something intangible, something deep within him that simply made the people around him unable to look away. his presence simply pulled gazes much like magnets and metals.

some people say it's because he's “such an ass it has you staring”, but then why are their gazes filled with wonder? 

in the time you spent here, you’ve come to find the only person who looked at ace with mostly apprehension was riddle rosehearts, his very own dorm leader. it’s no wonder, really, with how much of a troublemaker the ginger is (and with how many rules he breaks), but even despite that, sometimes, riddle looks at him starstruck as well.

you find yourself questioning this reality. while ace is a dear friend of yours, and he has been exceptionally nice to you (excluding the times he wasn’t because that's just who he is), you still don’t quite understand what exactly about him just has you turning your head to look at the ginger instead of the blackboard crewel is breaking his back to write on.

and it is perhaps in that fateful classroom where you finally begin to piece it together.

there was always something akin to a spotlight placed on ace trappola– whether it be one you imagined, the light from a lamp, or just literally the sun's rays– he was always the main attraction, always eye-catching.

or perhaps, it's not that he placed himself under the spotlights, perhaps the spotlights placed him under themselves. perhaps they chased him, were attracted to him, like moths to a flame. except, shouldn't it be the other way around? no, with ace, it shouldn’t. with or without a spotlight he somehow seems to shine brighter than the lights in rooms he occupies, somehow seems to bring more light than the actual source– and if he’s not the moth, he must be the flame, it just makes sense. 

people didn’t look at him because he was an ass, they looked at him because that’s just ace. simple as that– he is ace trappola and you must look at him, you must pay attention to him. whether he’s performing his card tricks or just spinning a pencil in class, he needs to be looked at because he is ace trappola and his presence demands attention– not quite like malleus, whose presence commands the rooms he enters, but still does so, in a sense.

throughout the next few weeks, you continued to observe the ginger, desperately trying to piece the puzzle together, trying to dissect him and figure out what exactly made him what you know him to be.

it was on a particularly cold autumn friday night, way past your regular bedtime– though, that was a necessary sacrifice to make for the 1st year game night– when you believe you finally figured it out.

you sat perched on the wide windowsill of the lounge, staring at the moon and faintly visible stars, the only never-changing constant in this twisted wonderland that you could confidently say reminded you of home.

the white light radiating off the orb felt mostly cold, but there were some remnants of the warmth the sun shared with it, warmth which it reflected upon the Earth, upon you.

then there was another presence– one of the other 6 current occupants of the lounge.

“what’re you doin’ up so late? couldn't sleep?”

you hum, watching as he seats himself on the opposite end of the windowsill, “yeah, something like that.”

“thinking about something? or was it deuce’s snoring, ‘cause that wakes me up too, sometimes.”

“mostly just thinking. what about you? why aren’t you sleeping? i don’t hear deuce snoring right now.”

he huffs a short laugh, ruffling his ginger mop of a horrendous bedhead, “honestly, i was awake the whole time. Grim kicked me in the head just now, though, so i figured i’d.. relocate, for a bit. thaumark for your thoughts? or we can just observe the moon, or whatever it is you were doing, if you want.”

as you stare at him under the moons’ light, it’s almost like it’s not even the white ball in the sky that radiates the heat and light, but rather ace– but if that were to be the case, that would make him the sun, wouldn’t it? since it’s the primary source, it’s what makes the moon glow?

perhaps he is, perhaps he has been all along, you’ve simply been too blinded by him to truly notice– for as they say, you shouldn’t stare at the eclipse without the proper protection for your eyes. now, as you look at him in the dark, it seems all too clear, all too obvious to deny. ace trappola has always glowed in ways more than perceptible– there was always this bright halo, a warm aura of sorts, around him. ace trappola has always been an enigmatic being to the people around him, whether it be for his way of living, his personality, or simply his behavioral patterns– he was never easy to understand or to decipher, but that’s one of the primary things which made him so interesting. there’s an undeniable pull about him that sucks everything and everyone into his atmosphere, making everything simply revolve around him– much like the planets revolve around the sun. his touch is always warm, burningly so, like he sits in the sunlight, soaking it up, with the sole purpose of being a living human heater. 

and despite people saying it’s best to stay clear of him in fear of being pulled along with his shenanigans, if you were to be given a choice on your position in the solar system ace is the center of, you would choose to be mercury, for incineration is a small price to pay for loving the sun. if you are to lose your vision or crash and burn and fade away into nothingness at the end of everything, then so be it– least your ashes will forever exist in the same space as him.

“i was just thinking you held the rays of the sun in your palms, and it’s warmth in you.”

ੈ✩₊˚TAGLIST : @solxima @lunavixia @gabirii @erigaur @pomegranateboba //ask/comment or fill form to be added/removed! (if you’re in bold i can’t tag you)

[kunikame]

MAY I HAVE THIS DANCE?

Beneath the melody of glimmering snowflakes, you sway in his arms.

ft. Yaotome Gaku, Kujo Tenn, Tsunashi Ryunosuke, Nanase Riku, Osaka Sogo, Izumi Mitsuki x gn! reader.

cw/genre: fluff, romance. Use of ‘princess’ in Tenn’s.

A small (and a little late) Christmas present for @yumemirumikazuki (Tenn’s and Riku’s part) @gakutsumudailys (Gaku’s part) @ @houjichaya (Ryu’s), @yaminohimeyume (Tenn’s and Mitsuki’s) and @highcollargirl (Sogo’s). I’m not sure if you all celebrate, but this is my gift to you, I hope you have a lovely winter or holiday <3 I actually wanted to post this yesterday, but couldn’t make it in time, I still hope you enjoy !

♡ YAOTOME GAKU

The bustling of packed streets dies down as you approach your apartment complex.

Intense lighting is replaced by the soft warmth of candle-lit windows, joyous voices overheard in the outline of the people habitating the decorated houses.

In the snow-coated streets, you walk, arms wrapped around a soft teddy bear that your boyfriend just got for you.

You hug it close, arms tightening around the plushie’s red coat adorned with a bow. A smile makes it to your face as you steal a glance in your lover’s direction. It was so cute, you think, how he looks intimidating and yet, he’s the sweetest with you.

The moonlight above, light years away, seems to agree with your statement, as its aura illuminates the idol’s profile; an otherworldly god, bound by fate to you.

“Gaku?” You call him, gaze lost in his handsome features.

Steely eyes focus on you, brows slightly raised in silent question.

You stop walking, coming to stand before him, one of your hands lacing with his.

“Thank you.” You giggle, hugging your new plushie a little tighter.

A soft chuckle leaves Gaku’s lips, his hand squeezing yours tenderly.

“Anything for you, my dear.” He tells you, with a fleeting kiss to your lips.

Then, he brushes a delicate kiss over the back of your hand.

“Can I have this dance with you?” Is his question, as puffs of hot breath are held in your throat.

You nod, as your lover sways you beneath the Christmas lights and the smiling moon.

You rest your cheek against the soft fabric of his long black coat, cheeks heating up at the proximity.

The moon reflects on the snow at your feet, its glow imprinting the shadows of two entangled souls over the pearlescent canvas.

♡ KUJO TENN

The warmth of the fireplace casts your living room in rosy light.

You didn’t use it normally, but today is a special day, after all.

Sure, it’s the holidays, but to you, the fact that your angelic boyfriend is spending it with you is what matters.

You didn’t expect him to ring your doorbell this evening, disguised in his cap and glasses, with a bag packed full of cookies and Christmas treats.

A smile tugs at your lips as you prepare the table with the multiple snacks your boyfriend’s brought, the cinnamon-like scent of the sweets luring you to them.

A chuckle interrupts your thoughts.

“At least let me help you arrange them.” Tenn points out, removing his blue hat.

Your eyes focus on him. And while he always looks stunning, there is something so adorable about him in casual clothes and with a sincere smile on his perfect face.

“It’s alright, Tenn.” You smile, walking towards him.

A sigh escapes your boyfriend, as he slightly shakes his head, as if to say ‘you’re too kind.’

One of his hands reaches up to take off his glasses, but you stop him.

“Leave them on.” You tell him, taking his hand. “You look cute.”

The hues of a winter sky at dusk bloom rosy on his cheeks at your compliment, as you tug him close to you.

“And… let’s dance?” You suggest, your pleading stare drawing Tenn into you more and more.

“That would be my pleasure, princess.” Your angel whispers, leaning in.

His lips touch your temple, and, in the warmth of your small apartment, you move in tune.

No luxurious ballroom could ever beat the intimacy of your shared kisses as you sway before the crackling fireplace.

♡ TSUNASHI RYUNOSUKE

Powdered sugar coats your lips as laughter fills the air.

Your apron is all stained, remnants of icing staining the sleeves of your sweater, but you don’t care.

What could ever taint this moment? Not when your boyfriend’s strong arms wrap around you and twirl you around the kitchen, one of his group’s songs playing in the background.

Amber eyes crinkle up in warm crescents, your unadulterated smile, the most precious gift he could ever ask for.

You were radiant like this, no creases on your forehead, only the curve of your smile enticing him; akin to the tantalizing sparkle of champagne, he can never get enough of you.

The song comes to an end, and your labored breathing fills the air.

“Another, please! I want to dance more with you, Ryu!” You ask, eyes shiny, cheeks hot, despite the sake remaining untouched just yet.

Ryunosuke lets out a hearty laugh, gaze softening even more, if that was possible, at your enthusiastic request.

“Alright, alright.” He smiles.

You let out a happy squeal, standing on your tiptoes to place an innocent kiss on his lips.

When the new song starts to play and you pull away, however, your partner chases after you, capturing your lips in his once more.

Afternoon sunlight streams in through translucent silky curtains, wrapping your locked lips in vibrant shades of honey and gold.

Your lover tastes glazed sugar on you, the added sweetness and the addiction of you deepening the kiss, divine intoxicating nectar

The music goes on.

Your kiss doesn’t end.

♡ NANASE RIKU

Flakes of falling snow land on Riku’s nose as he follows you through the park.

Despite the white layer covering every surface, a blue expanse hangs overhead, the halo of the sun high in the sky; an angel guardian warming up the idol’s back.

There is a sort of freedom, of newfound joy in this outing today.

Whiteness surrounds your lover, and yet, he is happy it is not that of hospital beds, but of just fallen snow instead.

He smiles.

Memories of him and his twin flash before his eyes. He is glad there is no longer a window glass separating him from this winter wonderland.

And of course, he is even more grateful nothing can keep him apart from the one he loves, either.

“Rikkun!” You call him, running back towards him. “What are you smiling about, huh?” You question, a mischievous smirk curling your lips. “Are you feeling okay? Are you wearing warm enough clothes?” You worry, adjusting his scarf snuggly.

He gives you one of his cute smiles.

“I’m alright, [Y/n]. I’m happy…” He trails off, those sunset eyes of his, big and bright, lingering memories present in the undertones of early dusk.

You brush scarlet locks away from his forehead, your slightly chapped lips placing a kiss to his brow.

“I’m glad, Riku. You deserve it. So much, my love.” You assure him, as your arms wrap around his form, your face resting in the crook of his neck.

He hugs you close, his body beginning to sway the both of you around, vermillion eyes fluttering closed.

You can feel his heartbeat, in sync with yours, as you two dance amidst a gentle rain of snowy glitter.

To feel you so close… Even if he ends up having a cough attack later, this is more than worth it.

♡ OSAKA SOGO

You watch intently as your boyfriend’s fingers strum the guitar’s cords.

There is something definitely hypnotizing to him, you think.

Lavender moondust falls over his amethyst eyes as he intently focuses on his instrument, sweet notes and daring rifts mingling together in a melody that has you on the edge of your seat.

Sogo’s music transports you to a whole other universe, where no worries exist, just the two of you, in an idyll made by yourselves.

His fingers stop momentarily, gaze of hyacinths at sunrise focused on you, an indication for you to say something.

“Amazing…” You utter, entranced by him and the notes still vibrating on the chords of his guitar. “I want to dance to this song with you.” You blurt out, eyes never once leaving his.

Your boyfriend smiles, a light chuckle filling the air of his comforting room.

“I guess that could be arranged.” He tells you, standing up, offering a hand to you.

You take it, wondering what he has planned.

And the moment you find yourself wrapped in his soft embrace, Sogo’s voice entones the lyrics to what he was playing earlier.

They are sweet, gentle, like demure lavender fields coloring a cloudy day; passionate, the blaze he so usually hides, but that shines bright beneath his composed façade.

The melody he sings, the one you’re dancing to right now… It is him, all his true emotions and his love for you on display, with no picture perfect image to hide the rawest parts of him.

You love him, always.

But like this, you get to see every little part that constitutes his heart.

As you sway with him, you think true love had never been so clear.

♡ IZUMI MITSUKI

Dawn has barely touched the concrete when you take a seat at the dorm’s backyard.

You knew he’d be here.

The fabric of his orange hoodie catches your eye from a distance, your lover’s vibrant hair outlined against the first daylight. Perhaps there was no sun in this winter morning just yet, but to you, he was brighter than any blue sky.

He hasn’t noticed your presence yet, his earphones keeping him immersed in practise, arms outstretched towards the heights of a sky you’re sure he will reach.

You lean your chin in one hand, smiling to yourself.

Mitsuki always worked so hard… And the truth is, his dancing has improved a lot.

You wish you could join him.

What’s stopping you? The first rays of sun seem to ask, when they graze your face with its gilded warmth.

So you stand up, making your way towards where clear sunbeams seem to move in tandem with your lover.

Coppery hued irises catch sight of you, their corners tilting up when you reflect in his stare.

And for all the way with words Mitsuki always has, none are exchanged this time, for there is no need.

Everything you might have wanted to express is made obvious in the sync of your movements with his.

Even as the morning gets more clear with the rising sun, you don’t really notice.

Why would you? When you can’t look away from the one who lights up your every day?

[kunikame]

"you ladies alright?"

bakugo x fem!reader

Inspired by this TikTok

Bakugo and his "friends" were making tiktoks going door to door of different girls dorms.

They begged and pleaded outside of his door for thirty minutes before he finally gave in and agree'd to tag along, only with the promise to record the videos.

First it was their friends who they decided to "prank", Kirishima knocking on Mina's door waiting for her to open it, before he caught the football and saying "you ladies alright?" Turning to look at Mina trying to keep a smirk on his face, they both break out laughing, closing door in his face while Bakugo cuts the camera.

The next victim was Jiro, it was Denki's turn to knock but before he could even try Jiro was already opening the door. Mid knock, he fell as the door opened toppling on top of Jiro. Cackling from all of the boys can be heard coming from behind the camera as Denki mutters "you ladies alright."

Wanting to change things up they decided to try getting a better reaction from the girls in dorms 1B.

Sero tried it on Kendo, waiting for her to answer as he knocked. As the door opened he was to slow in catching the ball, resulting in Kendo using her quirk to catch it for him. "Are you okay?" she asked, causing Sero to groan as he hoped his attempt would go better than Denki's and Kirishima's.

All of them somehow convinced Bakugo to do it, saying they needed one of their attempts to go smoothly. Surely Bakugo wouldn't mess up, right?

Bakugo unenthusiastically trudged up to the last door in the hall, yours. Grumbling under his breath he gave three rapid knocks to your door before looking at the camera to catch the ball. Catching it with ease he turned around ready to get his line over. Locking eyes with your's as you opened the door, Bakugo was surprised.

He couldn't look away, taking in your appearance as you stood there in your pajamas gazing at him back. He was speechless, forgetting his one line all he could do was stare at you as you stared back with a shy smile on your face.

Seeing the camera and all his friends standing around him, you assumed this was a prank, slowly closing the door and giving Bakugo a small wave.

Just as the door clicked shut, it was like Bakugo got out of a trance. Turning around real fast with a pink tint on his cheeks, he tossed Kirshima the ball before storming out of the dorms. Thinking about the girl he just met.

[kunikame]

Quick Kinich Brainrot.

Kinich sings the Ode of Resurrection a little louder and with a little more earnest when you're involved.

He doesn't notice it, but Mualani sure does. Kachina is none the wiser, she thinks Kinich treats everyone equally.

"Excited?" Mualani prods the said man on his side, grin as wide as ever, while waiting for the Ressurection to start.

"Huh?" Kinich asks.

Turns out he was none the wiser too. He thought he treated everyone equally.

"For Y/N to come back!" Mualani tries to hide the exasperation in her voice.

"...Isn't everyone?" Kinich simply says. Ajaw is surprisingly quiet.

Mualani has a retort at the tip of her tongue, but the ceremony starts. The eulogy is recited and the humming commences.

The ceremony is the same as it always is, and as the Pyro archon disappears into the Sacred Flame, people start to cheer and shout.

Kinich stays quiet. Eyes tacked on to the flame, shoulders tense, searching for the first sign of the Pyro Archon and you.

His mind doesn't quite register it when the Pyro Archon emerges from the flame carrying you in her arms.

The cheers continue, but when people start to notice that you're unconscious and asleep, the noise dwindles down.

Kinich masterfully swings himself over to meet the Pyro Archon, peering over at your face. "Is Y/N okay?"

"What's wrong with 'em? Psh. And here I thought they weren't one of the puny ones! Well at least it ain't a bag of bones!" Ajaw cackles, but constantly tries to circle around to catch a glimpse of your face.

"Trouble in the Night Kingdom," the archon replies. "They're fine, they just need a bit more rest to stabilize the Abyssal energy in them,"

Kinich steps back with a sigh.

The wave of panic that hit him settling down to ripples. Something similar had happened to Kachina before, in fact that time had been worse. Kinich hated to admit it, but he didn't feel half as scared back then than he did now.

What did that tell him?

He puts his hands forward "I'll take Y/N, archon. I'll take care of them," urgency and desperation mixed together in his voice.

The pyro archon had no doubt that he would, but shakes her head. "They'll have to stay here until the abyssal energy stabilizes, it could be dangerous to you as well,"

"But--" His response was automatic, and he had to stop himself from protesting.

Just take Y/N home. Don't let anyone else take them.

Repeated in his mind, over and over again. Home. You'll be safe there. He'll make sure of it. But he relents, and drops his arms to his sides. "...Okay,"

The pyro archon promises you'll be fine.

Kinich was a competent fighter. He was an ancient name bearer. He had fought so many battles and looked for many more.

But in this one simple and single moment, suddenly he wasn't so strong anymore.

His fear was bigger than his whole existence.

[kunikame]

i think when you start dating osamu, your whole world opens. your success isn’t just for you. it’s his and his ma’s and atsumu’s and osamu’s neighbor, and his regulars, and everyone you’ve ever just passed by and said hi to while walking to his store.

say you start dating him while you’re in college. and it’s silly. just an a on an exam you’ve been studying days for. not even a midterm or final. just a regular old exam. but you’re proud of it and osamu has been giving you snacks to keep your brain fueled so you have to tell him when you get the news.

some people say hi as you walk through osamu’s restaurant but no one stops to chit chat. you’re able to pull him to the side and when you show him the exam, your timid smile widens as osamu pulls you into this large bear hug.

and then suddenly you’re surrounded.

“did ya pass?”

“pass?! ya got an a, for sure, didn’t ya?”

someone’s buying a round of shots even if osamu doesn’t sell alcohol. sake is poured though you don’t even know how it’s entered the building. people are telling you how they knew you could do it, how if you’re dating osamu, you’re already one smart cookie.

and you’re family.

osamu’s just one person. despite it, he fills a large space in your heart because loving him means being loved by all those that love him too.

[kunikame]

5 times he thought he was the sun, and the 1 he realized he wasn't. - deuce s.

warnings : mostly deuce centric, angst, fluff, middle school deuce, violence mention, ace trappola, astral imagery and references (ITS MY TRADEMARK TRUST ME OK), im not sorry w/c : 2,448

1. when his mom said so.

it is a universally known fact that deuce spade is a “mama’s boy”. he is anything but ashamed of this, on the contrary, he carries the title with pride. his mother was the one who raised him and took care of him all his life, the least he can do is be proud of that and strive to be the best he can, so her efforts don’t go to waste.

this, he comes to realize in his middle school years, after witnessing his mother crying over his wounds first hand. she had berated him many times for being a “punk” and “gangster” (her words, not his), but he’s never seen her cry, no matter how bad things were.

so he strove to do better.

fueled by the pure and unfiltered shame and guilt pooling at the pit of his stomach, he sat as his mother bandaged his wounds, her tears mixing with the salve and blood streaming down his knuckles. in his defense, the guy totally deserved the beating he got, but he no longer believes it was worth it– not if the end result was his dearly beloved mother shedding tears over him.

the salve stung more than it normally did on that day.

over the next couple weeks he made sure to cut ties with all his friends and avoided getting into unreasonable fights like the bubonic plague. it was a bit hard, he admits, since all middle school kids are assholes who sometimes deserve a nice punch in the face, but he had to hold himself back and be good– an honor student.

as yet another fightless school day ended, a distant memory he seemed to have long forgotten and classified as “not important” resurfaced. 

if he remembers correctly, he was about 8 at the time, just having learnt the concept of space and planets and the solar system in geography class. they had a ritual, his mother and him– as they walked home after classes ended hand in hand, tiny deuce would retell his entire day in great detail as his mother listened attentively and added her own comments sometimes. that's when he told her about the sun and how it was the center of everything.

suddenly sweet little deuce stopped in his tracks, an expression clearly showing he was deep in thought (and effectively overloading his brain, he will definitely need to take a nap later) etched on his face. he then looked up at her with sparkling eyes, and asked “does that mean im your sun, mama?”

the blue haired woman stunned for a mere moment, only to laugh so sweetly deuce berates himself for ever forgetting this dear, precious memory, “yes, darling. yes, you are.”

8 year old deuce thought he would never be happier.

he, however, failed to realize the sun tends to be red, perhaps orange.

never blue.

2. when people avoided him while staying in his orbit.

deuce has always considered himself a people magnet, for better or worse.

in middle school he was feared with friends few and far between, but despite being actively avoided by most of the student body, they still somehow, some way, gravitated towards him for one reason or another.

despite beating people up being his most common activity, deuce spade loved helping people. his mother raised him to always be mindful of others and help when he can, so he did just that– though sometimes in.. less academically acceptable means. 

he didn’t just fight for fun, don’t get him wrong. he preferred to bring justice where it was due– to bullies. if one of his classmates was being bullied in front of him, he couldn’t just sit back and watch when he had 2 perfectly functioning hands and the offender a perfectly punchable face.

that is how deuce found himself feared, yet adored, at the same time. pulling people in while unintentionally pushing them away. 

at night raven college he was no longer feared, or adored. there were guys much scarier, more powerful than him, why would anyone be scared of a first year without his unique spell? why would he be adored without having done anything to be deserving of adoration? if anything, he was constantly causing problems instead. this is not how his plan of being an honor student was supposed to go.

his kind and– contrary to high school– chill nature did seem to still pull people towards him, though. he had changed a lot since his “punk” days, he was much calmer and friendlier now, which seemed to make it easier for people to approach him. that’s how he found himself making many new friends for this journey.

much like the sun with the planets, it’s trusty companions, deuce also had his.

he had, yet again, failed to realize the sun was less good natured than him.

3. when he got his unique spell.

deuce was truly overjoyed the day it happened. what made it even better was that he was the first of his new friend group to manifest it!

well, technically– jack already had his before he came to nrc, so he doesn’t really count. for pride's sake.

better yet, it’s a super useful and powerful spell! he’s sure to make his mom proud with this one, he thinks to himself as he walks down one of the many dark hallways the school holds, smiling all the while.

now he’ll be more useful if there’s another overblot– now he can protect people with his magic! without having to use his fists (though it would be for a good cause, he reasons)! 

now he can protect his dear magicless friend from harm, without having to rely on others too much.

many overblots have happened since you came here, and deuce has always felt bad he couldn’t do much to protect you, despite being a person in need and his promise to his mother. he thought himself too weak, which wasn’t too far from the truth– that much was proved in the actual battles. but now he has something more to him, something useful, and he’s going to milk the absolute most out of it. he’s going to hone his abilities even more to protect you, and others, better.

because that’s who he strives to be– one who protects, rather than one who harms. one who illuminates the darkest of days, one who shines in peril, one who saves.

much like the sun bestows it’s rays upon the earth, helping it flourish and grow and continue spinning.

he fails to notice the recent heatwave warnings.

4. when he kept his peers warm through the cold nights and days.

as previously mentioned, deuce saw himself as a kind of protector– to his friends and strangers alike. he saw a person in need, he helped, there was no deeper meaning, no poetic underlying translation to his actions.

it was simply second nature.

much like his mother used to put her hands on the edges of counters when he was under them, he, too, instinctively reaches to cover the edge of his desk when you lean down to pick up something you dropped.

contrary to popular belief, deuce spade is severely aware of his surroundings. he always keeps his eyes out for anything that might eventually bring harm to one of his fellow students, his neighbors, his mother, himself. he believes in good deeds returning to you one day, so he does his best to do as many of them as possible– seven know he’s going to need all the luck he can dig up for his finals.

the skills he picked up from his mother especially come in handy at times like these. if there’s any trinkets or machines at ramshackle that you need fixed but crowley doesn’t care and you simply can’t, deuce is lined up at the entrance and fixing it without you ever asking him to. if you mention something not working his mind is immediately preoccupied with finding ways to fix it as soon as possible.

he would rather fail a class than have one of his dear friends hurt over something he could’ve easily prevented had he been there.

so he keeps his eyes peeled and ears alert, observing and listening for any and all opportunities to be useful.

it was around winter time when the heating system at ramshackle broke down and you and grim barely had anything to keep yourselves warm. instead of your bedroom, you found yourself sleeping in the living room, right by the fireplace. the holes in the walls and shabby windows did not do much to keep the cold out, and despite the raging fire right in front of you, you still shivered and huddled further into your several layers of clothes and blankets.

once deuce found out, the first thing he did was curse crowley for being so irresponsible and refusing to fix it for you due to “low funding” (completely ignoring the fact you do all kinds of jobs for him without ever being paid more than what covers your monthly living expenses). the second thing was rush to ramshackle with a toolbox, fully intent on fixing it himself. he’s done it once before, surely he can do it again.

you slept in your warm bedroom again that night.

later, deuce woke in the middle of the night, having a dry throat and no water on his bedside table.

he snuck into the heartslabyul kitchen undetected, and once he refilled his glass, successfully made his way back to his room.

compared to the rest of the dorm, however, he noticed the room was awfully and oddly cold. that’s when he noticed the open window, and ace shivering in his bed.

deuce heaved a shivery sigh and headed to close the window, but he found himself stopping just short of it, glancing at his roommate still shivering, completely uncovered by his blanket. despite hating his guts, ace was still a close friend of his, so with another sigh he walked up to his bed and covered him again, much like his mother used to do to him.

much like the sun keeps the planets warm throughout the year.

he seems to have forgotten mercury is nearing incineration, while uranus and neptune are mostly frozen.

5. when he was akin to the morning light, soft and gentle.

deuce prided himself in being an early bird, he naturally rose with the sun.

maybe it was due to being used to being woken up by his mothers alarms, maybe he just developed this skill over the years– he himself is not entirely sure.

ace always complained about how he could be so energetic and alert in the mornings, while the redhead was completely out of it.

deuce took joy from being able to watch the sunrise. watching the colors of the sky slowly change in the morning energized him plenty for the day to come– it reminded him that no matter what happens, the sun will rise again tomorrow.

this morning, however, he is seeing it in an entirely different light.

him, ace, sebek, jack, epel and ortho had all spent the night at ramshackle at a first year sleepover, organized by you. admittedly, it was the most fun he’s had in a while– and not just him, either, since even sebek seemed to be coming out of his shell.

after the others had long gone to sleep, you stayed up with deuce to chat deep into the night, since you had no classes the next morning. you could allow yourself a little leisure.

deuce spade has never heard his voice be as soft as it was then. he had whispered with people many times in his life, but not once had he sounded so gentle, so tender while talking to someone.

that is when he finally realized something that he completely let slip by him, something he pinned as absolutely normal.

he realized how gentle he’s always been with you.

ever since you came here, deuce has always treated you with care– like you were something fragile, something he might accidentally break if he held it wrong. his hands were used to causing pain, after all.

but no, not with you. never you.

which is why you compared him to the morning light– because in your view, he was just that. something tranquil, something comforting, something that feels like home.

deuce treated you with love, an indescribable fondness behind his every action– something he himself seemed to miss, yet everyone else noticed.

much like the morning lights gentle rays, deuce spade caressed your face.

+ 1. when the moon's glow felt all too familiar.

when deuce opened his eyes that morning, he could immediately tell it would not be a good day.

the morning light did nothing to his exhaustion, and he felt awfully cold, despite it being spring.

as he walked up to his class, he was greeted by a group of people surrounding ace, murmuring about one thing or another. once he approached, the circle parted to let him through to his seat, and he noticed ace was simply performing his card tricks.

“hey, dude, good morning! look at this trick i came up with–”

as he watched his roommates hands carefully, intent on finding out the secret behind the trick, he blinked only once and suddenly it all clicked into place.

why the sun did nothing to him, why he felt so cold.

the sun wasn’t his.

that was simply it, the sun was not his, deuce spade was never the sun– ace trappola was.

whenever a crowd of people surrounded deuce, ace was there. ace kept people cheerful and entertained throughout the days, deuce only kept them warm at night. 

ace trappola was bright, vivid, warm, eye-catching, red.

deuce spade was dim, cool, easy to miss, blue.

ace trappola was everything deuce was not, but everything he wished to be. 

and yet, one could not function without the other. deuce needed ace as much as ace needed him– they complimented each other perfectly, be as it may.

through the envy pooling in the pit of his stomach, he mustered up a smile and praised the redhead for his newest trick, applauded even. through the envy he watched as ace lit up, shining brighter than the sun in the window right next to his head, and he realized he could never compete over something he could never do.

he could never do what ace trappola does as effortlessly as breathing.

although quite similar in nature, the moon could never do what the sun does naturally. 

and, perhaps, the moon, too, had once wished to be the sun.

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[kunikame]

happy october! oh my god ihave 800 follpwrs. thats crszy!!!!! thank u guys i love all of u big fat kiss i will now sleep goodnight