#alie ficlets: version 2

[alieinthemorning]

Holiday Lights [Hawks | Takami Keigo]

Content: Holiday Celebration, Mention of shortness, Fluff, Self-Indulgent, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert

Pronouns: None

Header: @/kadeart

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

You’d always wondered what it’d be like to touch the stars.

When you met Keigo, you finally were able to do so.

“Come on, chickadee.” Keigo urged you through the metal door.

“Impatient are we?” You huffed.

“A little,” He grinned. “If we’re late, we’ll miss the best part.”

You laughed. “What part? We’ll literally have the best view!”

“That is true.” he held his arms open. “You ready?”

You smiled, stepping towards him. “Always.”

He lifted you, making sure you were securely in his arms before taking off into the night sky.

Tonight was the annual Holiday Light Parade. Essentially it was like any other parade with floats but just at night with all the sparking lights.

Up until recently, you’d been just another person in the crowd, usually shoved uncomfortably between the other onlookers and stuck behind someone taller than you.

But now, you had the skies to yourselves.

Being able to see everything from your bird’s eye view on the rooftops, and with Keigo pointing out anything else that he could see with his enhanced bird eye vision.

“Here comes the best part!” You leaned in, eyes reflecting the twinkle of the lights.

First the streets light up, then the buildings then…

You.

You squeezed your eyes shut and lifted your arms for added protection. “I guess we chose the wrong roof.” You turned to Keigo and peeked an eye open. “We should move before you’re—” Everything in you froze.

There Keigo knelt before you, a black velvet box sitting delicately in his hand.

With a beautiful ring resting in the middle.

A silver band with one large ruby and two diamonds sat on either side. In other words,

Perfection.

“You know? Even with all these lights, you’re still the brightest one here.” You snorted while he grinned. “And I’d like to share in that light, if you’ll have me?”

You nodded your head, the tears that were pooled in their ducts spilling over. “Of course because you are my Phoenix.”

He stood, gently slipping the ring on your finger. “And you are my Star.”

Whoops! This was supposed to be posted a while ago lol

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[sanarsi]

hello, my dearest Nari 🧡

with this ask I challenge you to write a ficlet (or anything bigger if you want) inspired by this screenshot:

may the writing muses be with you,

kissing you on your forehead (if you allow it not then just waving from the distance!)

ps almost sent you nudes

Father’s Love

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: Life is a bitch that can surprise with reverse version of Joel’s nightmare. Warnings: angst, canon violence, child!reader Wordcount: 1,2k An: I wanted to write more so I don’t promise there won’t be a part 2. A wonderful plot twist was created in my head ugh. This is a part of this -> challenge by my lovely Aly (literally my muse) who almost!!! sent me dirty things.

Masterlist

Joel knew what he needed to survive.

As luck would have it, everything was within reach.

A working car, a gun and ammo, food supplies, and a few other things. The only thing standing in his way was a man, tall man and obviously well-trained, maybe a military? Joel had killed a lot of people and felt no inhibitions about doing it again, especially with such good loot waiting for him.

So he waited, hidden in the bushes, and silently just watched.

He wanted to wait until dark, maybe even until the man fell asleep, but the perfect opportunity presented itself earlier. The universe itself was giving him signs that he had to do it. And he had to do it now.

As quietly as he could, he reloaded his weapon, never taking his eyes off his enemy. The man sat with his back to him, completely unaware of anything, changing the bandage on his foot.

There was no better opportunity and Joel knew it. So he pulled the trigger.

The shot echoed through the forest and birds fled from nearby trees. He only watched as a limp body with a hole in its head fell to the ground. After that, there was dead silence.

He waited a moment, but definitely too short, before he decided to come out of hiding.

Maybe if he had stuck to his own principles back then he wouldn’t have done almost something he would regret for the rest of his life.

Hearing was faster than his sight at someone’s footsteps, he automatically aimed the gun in that direction. For a moment he didn’t know if he saw correctly when a child appeared in front of him. A little girl who was terrified and trembling with fear.

She looked exceptionally well-groomed. Unworn jeans, a sweatshirt and sneakers that looked almost new. No scars or dirt on her face. But it was her eyes that gave away the most — she didn’t see much evil. She looked as if Joel was the first person to make her realize that such a thing really existed.

Joel let out a slow breath and relaxed his muscles as he looked at her longer and longer. He lowered the gun a bit and with every passing second he saw her more closely, clearly. He felt a growing weight in his chest, as if the consequences of his actions were looking at him with those big tearful eyes. He didn’t want to think about what appeared in his head at the thought of the child but when her gaze fell on the body lying a few feet behind him, he knew that the weight of guilt was just starting to crush him. Slowly and painfully.

“Daddy?” Her soft, breaking voice pierced the heavy silence. He shivered at the sound, so reminiscent of the one that followed him in his nightmares. Tears welled up in his eyes and he didn’t fight them when they started to roll down his cheeks.

Karma caught up with him in the worst possible way.

For the first time in several long years, he felt like he had failed again. Like his nightmare had become reality again, but this time, he was the one who caused all the evil.

He knew that with another burden he could not continue to live. He could not allow his nightmare to gain the strength to crush him.

So he let his instincts take over again.

“Hi kiddo,” he said in a slightly hoarse voice and managed a gentle smile. The girl met his gaze again. Tears refused to escape her eyes. “What’s your name?”

Joel watched as she clenched her fists tighter around the sleeves of her sweatshirt and shook her head, clearly not wanting to answer his question.

“’s all right,” he tried to assure her. As proof of his words, he slowly crouched down and tossed the gun aside. “See? I won’t hurt you.” He spread his arms in a friendly gesture and, despite the tears glistening on his cheeks, tried to look friendly.

You had to trust him. He had no other choice now.

“You seem like a smart girl.” He smiled wider. He almost managed to ignore the pain in his heart. “I’m sure your dad taught ya a lot of things, right?”

She nodded uncertainly. He tried to stop himself from moving too aggressively, not wanting to scare her. But the urge to grab her in his arms now and apologize for what he had done was overwhelming, almost unbeatable.

“Your daddy tell you how to cope when he can’t do it for ya?”

She denied again, “No.” Her soft and uncertain voice almost broke him in half.

He could hardly believe that after everything he had experienced, he found himself again in the same and yet completely different position as so many years ago. But life was a bitch.

“Can I show ya?” he asked, wanting to give her a choice, an illusory possibility, but she was just a child. A child he had hurt just as someone had hurt him.

Her chin quivered as she nodded, “’kay.” She was on the verge of tears. Her small body was shaking, whether from the cold or the emotion he didn’t know, so he barely managed to restrain himself from pulling her into a tight embrace.

“I know you’re a tough girl,” he praised her with a wide smile he was holding with all his strength. “You’re smart and I’m sure you could handle any obstacle, right?”

She listened to him carefully. She was fully focused on him and that made things much easier. She had to see only him, she couldn't look at the dead body lying behind him.

She couldn't.

“Mhm,” she murmured softly, clenching her fists tighter.

“Attagirl.” He laughed through his tears and took a deep, calming breath. “Your daddy said if he couldn’t take care of you,” he began slowly, moving closer to her. She wasn’t afraid. She didn’t back down. “I have to do it for him.”

He stopped in front of her and watched her reaction. She seemed to process his words, as if she didn’t understand their meaning. Seeing her confusion, he slowly knelt down in front of her with a warm smile and watched the confusion in her eyes for a moment.

She was so small, so innocent and pure…

“So you are my daddy now?”

And he barely stopped himself from choking on his tears.

He sobbed, covering his mouth and nodded without thinking. He couldn’t hesitate. He couldn’t let you see his hesitation. So he was sure of his new role. He was sure that he had to become a father again.

And he became it the moment she pressed herself tightly against his chest, burying her face in his neck, and his arms closed her tightly.

He felt it. Again. The strength that came from holding a small being in his arms, someone who depended only on him. And this time, he knew he wouldn’t fail, can’t fail.

Tags: @syd-djarin @yorksgirl @puduvallee @luciaispunk @theoraekenslover @bbyanarchist

[thyra279]

Clan colours

Ended up writing this instead of going to bed last night. For day 2 of the Good Omens Celebrations.

Prompts: Contrast (and Cotton)

"…What?" Not-quite-Crowley-Crowley stared at him, mouth agape, an expression which did Aziraphale's poor old corporation absolutely no favours.

"I said, could you give me a twirl?"

"I'm still a bloody demon for a few hours longer, Angel, I'm not gonna twirl. Do me the favour of letting me die with my dignity intact."  

"Crowley." The sharpness of Aziraphale’s admonishment was swallowed by the  concrete walls of Crowley's living room. Their owner sighed.

"I'm kidding Aziraphale, we're gonna be fine. Just a nice little trip up- and downstairs for us, a cosy heart-to-heart with some archangels and the dukes of Hell." Crowley's voice softened at the angel’s disapproval, sounding oddly mild in Aziraphale's throat. "And then we'll be right as rain."

"I know that, dear. I hope you do too. Have a little faith."

"Erh, 's a bit of a touchy subject for me."

"Have faith in Agnes Nutter, then."

Crowley shifted awkwardly in the foreign corporation. The lofty sniff he managed was more his own. "I've met quite a lot of witches in my time and believe me, most of them are not to be trusted. The things they tried to do to us poor devils. Tricky bunch. Verrrry tricky bunch. Quite a few of them were positively debauched, and that's coming from a demon who's terrifically debauched himself, you know." 

Aziraphale managed to disguise his snort as a throaty sneeze.[1] "Ble- gesundheit. Did I ever tell you about that weirdo with the black cat and massive warty nose up in Staffordshire?"

"You did, yes. Several times a century for the last 400 years. I believe you've told most of the northern hemisphere by now."

"She tried to fly on a broomstick, Aziraphale. A broomssssstick."

"Yes, dear." Crowley mimed vaguely at sweeping the floor and shook Aziraphale's head before falling into bewildered contemplation. Aziraphale took the opportunity to hike up the metaphorical bootstraps of Crowley's unruly corporation to circle around Crowley and his own corporation. It was an odd reversal of their ritual, familiar and disconcerting all at once. The reflection in the dark glass windows at the end of the room belied the oddness of the scene, the undercurrent of worry in both of them. And still, there in the window was the comforting lankiness of Crowley, though a little stiffer than normal. And there, his own slightly stuffier corporation.

Aziraphale turned to look at the real version of it. It had been close to thirty years since the last time he'd really looked at himself. He liked his corporation, always had. It was nowhere near as disarmingly lascivious as Crowley's, yet it had its own charm, a warmth and comfort which easily won over humans and, it seemed, at least one otherworldly being too.

It may have very recently undergone some major restorative work, but it looked more or less the same as it had for the last 6000 years. His clothes, however, caught his interest.

"Are you checking me out, Angel?"

"No, dear, I am taking the opportunity to, ah, check out myself."

"Ah. Can't blame ya, good call."

"Oh hush. I'm taking a look at my attire, Crowley."

Aziraphale's garments told a story themselves, reminders of little not-so-chance encounters and long-planned secret evenings together. Which genre the story belonged to he couldn’t bear to contemplate tonight. 

Aziraphale knew Crowley's clothes, even the new ones, could have recited every tailored line had he had the audience.[2] He had never really paid his own clothes the same courtesy, and now, he may not have the chance again.

The demon stood still, let him survey his beloved khaki coat, find the innocent-looking shoulder that Crowley had blown clean only days earlier. The fraying waistcoat that might seem past its expiration date but had at least another decade in it. He hoped it would get it.

The cotton-blend bowtie he'd started wearing just before that evening in the church when…-

It had quickly become his favourite accessory. He'd tried out a cravat during some years in the 1950s and 60s. It had suited him rather well, he'd thought. And yet, he'd kept coming back to the bow tie, to the beloved lines of the tartan and their soft reassurances around his neck. He hadn't gone a day without it since 1967.  

Heaven’s Dress. He'd rather liked the look and feel of his uniform during the Celestial War (it had been the only part of the War he'd been enthusiastic about). The tartan had seemed like a revelation; a rare surprise in those small days before Earth. After an eternity in strictly monotone fabrics - eggshell, vanilla, ivory or sheer white - the audacity of different shades mashing up together in such close proximity had been thrilling. It had made such a big impression on him that he'd seized the opportunity to popularise the pattern when it arose a few millennia later.

He’d got the chance when he developed Edinburgh in the 16th century. Crowley had been too busy working on Glasgow himself to bother Aziraphale much and so, he’d had plenty of free time.

Now, contrary to popular belief, it was Aziraphale who introduced tartan to Scotland, not the other way round. It had been a simple enough thing to slip in, during his town planning meetings, and the Scots had taken to tartan like, well, like chickens to water or whatever it was Crowley had said. His tartan venture had been quite the success for the Principality.[3] So much so he’d decided to have a go at the weaving himself and reproduce the one he’d seen in Heaven an eternity ago.

And he really had gone in fully intending to weave up the beige-on-beige tartan in honour of Heaven. When he’d looked at the result, however, it had seemed just a little off. After a week's contemplation and rather more than just the angel's share of whisky, he'd realised that Heaven's pattern was bland. It was too beige, lacked any form of nuance or depth. What it was lacking, he’d come to realise, was a bit of contrast. 

And so, Aziraphale had played around a little, had added a little darker shading here and there, then wound a gentle red line from left to right across the pattern. Before he knew it, thin twin red-and-nearly-black lines had slithered up from the bottom of the pattern too, wrapping themselves around the softer diagonals, and Aziraphale’s tartan had come together. It was certainly unusual, but to Aziraphale, it had felt just right. He'd named it Heaven's Dress as he’d set out to do. The blessings and protections he'd wound into the fabric had had nothing to do with Heaven, however.

A rather pointed cough roused him from his musings. "Am I witnessing the dawning realisation that tartan’s really terribly unstylish?" Crowley was looking at him, fretting hands tucked into loose linen trousers.

"Not quite." Aziraphale offered up a little smile at the sight of his tartan now guarding Crowley’s neck. The demon looked at him expectantly, but Aziraphale left out his usual retort.

Eventually, Crowley sighed and crossed his arms. "I do have faith, you know."

"You do?"

"Yeah." The demon looked down at himself. "I have faith in you." He picked up his wineglass and staggered over next to Aziraphale to flop down into his throne with as much flair as Aziraphale's corporation could manage. "Tell you what, Angel. If we make it out of there ali- unscathed and get to Berkeley Square as planned, I'll twirl all the way from there to the bloody Ritz for you, how's that?"

"Very well, dear. You know, I think I'll indulge in a slice of their Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte. When we get there. And we will. I have every faith in both of us." Aziraphale straightened the bow tie and gave Crowley's cheek two quick pets. He set off on a practice saunter through Crowley's cavernous apartment to perform a little stylish miracle where it wouldn't be heard, doubling back on the way out of the door. "I'll look forward to your whirligigs."

“...What?!”

[1] To his knowledge, neither he nor Crowley had ever sneezed in the entirety of their existences, but Crowley seemed too preoccupied to notice.

[2] Aziraphale had found receptive audiences on a few occasions. One time in 1979, in a bar with a bunch of UCL students in SoHo, he'd spoken so passionately on the nuances of black in Crowley's wardrobe he'd been rather alarmed to find he'd accidentally started Goth subculture.

[3] Aziraphale had been really very miffed indeed when the English conjured up the Dress Act of 1746 and banned the use of tartan. He'd made sure to block every subsequent attempt by the English to change their national anthem to anything more stirring than the dull monotony of "God Save the Queen". Even he can see the pettiness of this, and yet he keeps at it to this day.

I’m collecting all my Celebration ficlets over on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24037873/chapters/57837565 

Inspired by this lovely meta post on Aziraphale’s tartan: https://bluebandedagate.tumblr.com/post/187971072711/a-discourse-on-tartan 

[alieinthemorning]

From One Scar to Another [Leander]

Content: Hurt/Comfort, Scars, Kissing, Idiots in Love

Pronouns: None

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

One thing you realized about Leander,

he had a thing for rubbing swirls around the molten cracks across your knuckles.

Anytime the two of you were holding hands or snuggling close, one hand would be there as if it were drawn to them.

As much as you despised your hands and worried he would fall victim to them,

You liked when he did that.

It kept you there in the moment, and even after your bandages were back on

you still felt the warmth of him.

Something that you carried with you as you traipsed the cold streets of Eridia.

Then, one day, you had a bit of a nasty run in with a few Senobium students that stole that warmth away.

You needed your warmth back, so you returned not even two hours after leaving.

You honestly weren’t expecting Leander to still be home.

You had planned to take a moment to unwind and maybe do a few mundane things around the house before his return.

You most definitely weren’t expecting him to be standing in the middle of the room undressing.

Your breath hitched and he whipped around.

Now two rosy cheeked lovers faced each other,

with your back against the front door,

And him with his shirt locked around his elbows,

unable to look away.

Until your eyes started to wander.

Ah, you practically hear the blood in your cheeks now—

“Ah.” Finally, the wandering stopped, landing on lighting.

You had your suspicions before.

That the scar on his face and the one on his forearm, both running beneath his clothes, were connected,

'but never like this’

It truly looked like lightning had struck him, webbing out like shattered glass across the left side of his body.

“Ah—sorry, I didn’t realize you’d be coming back so early. What happened?” He said, frantically shoving his shirt back on.

You rushed forward, grabbing the fabric.

“Wait.”

He did.

“...can I” You bit your lip, glancing at the scar.

You knew what you wanted to do,

but goodness was it hard to ask.

“Do you—” He began,

and that's all the push you needed.

“Can I touch it? Your scar?” You spit out, watching him closely.

He watched back, Adam's apple bobbing worriedly.

Until finally, he gave up. Slowly removing the shirt and sitting on the couch. You followed, slotting into your usual position.

Then, once he gave the signal, you brushed across the tender skin.

“Does it still hurt?” You wondered.

Your own marred arms, despite its look, never hurt.

At least not yourself.

Not physical.  

“...sometimes.” He breathed a sigh. “I manage.”

“Does it hurt when I touch it?”

“Nah, you’ve got magic hands.” You pinched his side. “Ow! Sorry— bad joke. But honestly… I just like uh…this.” His face was in his hand by the end of his sentence.

What a big softie.

Your big softie.

You wanted to see more of this side of him.

“What about this?” You whispered against the skin

then kissed it.

Soft as a petal,

hot as the sun.

Your face was promptly smushed between his hands as he moved your face away from his the blooming skin on his bicep to inches from his face.  

Despite his flushed face, he retained eye contact with you.

For about five seconds, then his eyes slid closed, and his forehead rested on yours.

“You…are gonna be the death of me.”

You smiled, “You’re the one who started it.”

“I never kissed your knuckles.”

“Now we know who the bold one in the relationship is.”

“You sure about that?”

Sure, the two of you were close enough to breathe each other's breaths,

but you really didn’t realize that you were getting that close.

So, when his lips slotted against yours, you were pretty surprised.

Not that you had any complaints.

You’d happily kiss him until the end of time.

And even after that.

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[alieinthemorning]

You’re (Not) Lilith (You)

Content: Obey Me! Lesson 16 Spoilers, Angst, Proofread, Not Beta Read

Pronouns: None

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don't forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work's concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

"No matter how far apart we may be, no matter how much time passes, even if someday you’re no longer yourself…I will never forget you. I will always pray that you find happiness…always."

"I love you, Lilith."

Were the last words Lucifer spoke to Lilith.

Words that you should have never been privy to.

Words that solidified your role even more.

“Lilith!” Strong arms wrapped tightly around you.

Yet yours felt too heavy to move.

The joys of the brothers floated around you as white noise as they joined Lucifer.

All but one.

“...Belphegor? Don’t you want to join in?”

Just the thought of him touching you made you violently jerk back.

You shoved your way through the brothebrothers'rs spiderweb of arms and slammed hard into the wall behind you.

Your eyes flickered rapidly between all the demons.

A mix of names were called, all laced with concern.

But of the names said,

you were not one of them.

You wanted to tell them.

You’re not Lilith.

You’re you.

But the words were caught in your throat, as your mouth dampened in a very familiar way.

You took off.

Through halls that felt familiarly foreign.

Into a room that no longer felt like your own.

And expelled the bile from your mouth into the white bowl below.

It burned worse than ever.

You knew it was from the phantom marks around your neck.

You threw up again.

They were so happy to get the light of their sister back, but your death was overshadowed and forgotten.

All so quickly.

Just like you.

Just as the you of this timeline disappeared into nothingness,

replaced by you.

And now you had disappeared,

replaced by Lilith.

Beneath the Mask can be read as a somewhat one-off-au

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[alieinthemorning]

Melancholia [Avatar of Wrath | Satan]

Content: Hurt/Comfort, Self-Indulgent

Pronouns: None

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don't forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work's concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

Despite what everyone thought

you got angry

really angry.

So angry that you ended up snapping at the brothers, stormed into your room and just started wrecking it.

Throwing things here and there.

Even to the point of throwing your D.D.D at your open door

that Satan was standing in.

“Woah there.” He said, catching the device with ease. “You might hurt someone.”

You glared at him. “Just because you feed off anger doesn’t give you the right to instigate mine.”

He sighed. “I’m not here to make things worse. I’m here to help.” He paused, holding out a hand. “If you’ll allow me.”

You stared at the open invitation for a moment before turning away as you crossed your arms. “Whatever.”

You could already feel the anger fizzling out.

Leaving you as a smoking fume of exhaust.

You barely registered Satan closing and locking your door, securing it with a binding spell. You counted the few footsteps it took for his long strides to meet you on the other side of the room. Then he was placing his hands on your shoulders, guiding you to your bed.

“No…room’s a…mess…” Ah. Talking had already become too much.

“We can deal with that after you’ve rested.” He gently maneuvered you, curled up against him with your head resting on his shoulder while he sat up against your many pillows, a book in one hand and the other tracing small patterns along your back.  

And then, he was reading to you.

Reminding you of a long forgotten warmth.

You soon succumbed to your fatigue

from your wrath

and from your melancholia.

You floated in and out of consciousness for a bit.

Hearing bits and pieces of Satan’s conversations with his brothers.

Assuring them that you were in good hands and to not disturb you.

Then he muttered a few incantations, ones to restore your room from before your outburst.

And then,

the soft lulls of his breathing.

Which pulled you back to sleep.

A beautifully dreamless sleep.  

Until you could sleep no more.

And you had to face your emotions.

“So…do you know what caused this?”

…

You either say it or you don’t.

Keep it buried in the deepest depths of your heart for the rest of your feeble life.

You bit your lip, tears already threatening to overflow. “...I think it was misplaced. I think the real reason was…is…the death of my father. The anniversary is coming up really soon.”

You knew that out of all the brothers’

Satan would have the least amount of understanding in this.

Hell, his father was his brother

or something.

And the brothers' creator…

Well they were still alive weren’t they?

The closest thing they had was Lilith, but Satan only had the remnants of Lucifer’s emotions to feed into his own regarding her, so—  

“I don’t understand.” He began, “The feeling of losing someone important. I’ve never had it happen to me. However, I can still sympathize. I felt your wrath, that emotion, no matter how misguided, was deeply rooted in pain and hurt.”

“It’s just—” Tears fell, you were quick to wipe them away. “I’m sorry. I—”

He grabbed your wrist, pulling them away from your face, allowing the tears to fall freely.

“It’s okay to cry. You don’t need to hold back— You don’t have to be afraid to feel anymore.

"I’m here.”

I forgot how personal this one was lol

Context if you didn't read the original: I wrote this on the anniversary of my daddy's death: April 19th. It's been 14 years.

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[alieinthemorning]

An Addition to Change [Gojo Satoru]

Content: Major Character Death, Angst, AU: No Curses, Blood and Injury, JJK 237 Spoilers

Pronouns: None

Previous: Tears of The Strongest | Next: Fleeting Adolescence

Header: @/nikki101pistar on Twitter

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don't forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work's concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

Change is something that Satoru did a lot. He changed his clothes, furniture, cars and even house at a whim. Often times, he'd have at least five outfit changes in a day, there would be movers in and out of the house replacing furniture, he'd come home with a new car and about every one-two years you'd be moving to a new place.

And you'd just gone along with it all.

But this?

This was a bit much.

You eyed the child sitting across from you on the large gray couch, brand new, not even a dent in the cushions yet. He had black hair that was sticking up in every direction, violet eyes that bore into your own, unimpressed with...everything it seemed, and a frown that was too old and tired for a child his age.

Your gaze turned to Satoru, who was sitting beside you. He was pointedly looking at his phone, scrolling through social media to avoid both you and the child's stare.

"We can't avoid this, Satoru." You began, "Can you please tell me what happened? But be for real this time."

Because "I just found him, and it seemed like he needed a home!" is not an explanation at all. Sounds like he kidnapped a child off the streets, and you really didn't want to get tied up into something like that.

Satoru sighed in that dramatic way that he does, lolling his head away from you. "I told you—"

The child cut him off. "I've been living alone for a while now. He's been bothering me ever since he found out, and now I'm here, I guess." Satoru glared at him, but nodded along.

"Okay...and what about your guardians?"

"Dead." He replied flatly.

Your heart tightened. That poor baby, to have to navigate the world all by himself and for only he knows how long.

"What's your name?" You asked softly.

"...Megumi."

"Okay, Megumi, what would you like to do? Would you like to go back to where you were, or would you rather stay here with us?"

He was quiet for a moment, playing with the sleeves of his jacket before finally answering you. "...I wanna stay here."

You smiled, "Okay, then." then it dropped, "We literally don't have anything for you."

Satoru laughed loudly, snorting while your head swiveled toward him. "What are we gonna do?"

He stood, wiping a tear from his eye. "We're gonna go shopping, of course."

And after that shopping trip, you and Megumi vowed to never go shopping with Satoru again.

Mornings were always hard for you. It would either be a rough sleep of tossing and turning or a nightmare that disturbed your sleep to the point of waking up just as tired, if not more, than when you went to sleep. So often times you'd lay in bed, fighting between succumbing to sleep or proceeding with living.

But then a small, warm hand landed on your cheek.

"I'm hungry. I would have fed myself, but I don't know where anything is..."

You blinked.

Oh right, Megumi.

You were not ready for a change as massive as this one, but you had to get up regardless because now there was a child in your care. So you pulled yourself up and smiled.

"Good morning, Megumi."

Change was something Megumi also did a lot. However, it made sense with him because he was a child and children were always changing.

His favorite food changed weekly, which kept you on your toes and kept you from fretting on what to make anymore.

He was a growing, which meant new clothes needed to be bought ever few months (which prompted you to convince Satoru to stop buying him such expensive clothing).

His favorite shows and interests were also ever-changing. New toys were bought every week, and it was beginning to get harder to hold a conversation with Megumi since he would always be talking about something new (it was worth it though to see that sparkle in his eye when he talked about the things that he enjoyed).

There were a few things that didn't change, though.

He still loved frogs. He loved going out in the rain to hunt for them, despite usually coming back in empty-handed (you had to stop Satoru from having frogs on standby for rainy days).

He also loved dogs, which prompted Satoru into getting him two dire wolf dogs (how the hell he got them is beyond you).

He still only tolerated Satoru (that's what he said, but he really was opening up to him).

And he still favored you (you don't think that that will ever change, though).

"Thanks for not turning me away..." Megumi told you, as his face was just about buried in Shiro's white fur.

Satoru was still changing, but not as materialistically.

Now he was making more of an effort to be home with you and Megumi (his days were now nine-five, no exceptions and no more bring work home).

More of an effort to bond with Megumi, who was thankfully warming up to him (he was even able to take him out on their own outings without the day going horribly wrong).

More of an effort to understand your words from before.

He is not the strongest, and that's okay (he did cry a bit when Megumi got sick, however. It was something new and scary for him, so you wouldn't tease him about it...much).

"Thank you for taking such good care of Megumi." His arms wrapped around your waist as his lips brushed against your neck, leaving a trail of kisses. "And thank you for staying by my side all this time."

You also were changing.

You think it's a good thing.

"I love you two so much." Your smile was shy, but your words were genuine. "Thank you so much for being a part of my life and turning this house into a home."

You'll never forget the smiles they gave you. Bright, wide, full of teeth and as warm as a sun beam.

Hopefully, you'll continue to change alongside your boys.

There was a lot of present/past tense errors in here lol. A small bit of grammatical errors. And I changed a few things.

Reminder that this was a response to JJK236 lmao

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[alieinthemorning]

They (Who) See (Are) Her (You)

Content: Angst, Strong Language, Proofread, Not Beta Read

Pronouns: None

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Soon you fell back into a routine.

One that was familiar, yet so different.

You still sat between Mammon and Beelzebub during meals, but now all the vacant seats were finally taken, as Leviathan had now made an effort to join.

And…

Belphegor

Sat on the other side of Beelzebub.

Just barely outside of your peripheral.

Floating between snoozing and mumbling.

You hated that.

You hated him.

You hated all of them.

Especially Diavolo.

He knew exactly what he was doing when he brought you down here.

Fix the brothers' relationships.

By becoming their sister.

Soon your name was replaced with Lilith’s

Lilith, Lil, Lili, Sis, Sister

You were not Lilith.

You were not Lil.

You were not Lili.

You were not Sis.

You were not Sister.

You were you.

But they couldn’t see that anymore.

And now,

when you catch yourself in the mirror.

You wonder who is it that’s staring back at you.

Is it you?

Or is it Lilith?

Was anything you did your own?

Or was it because of Lilith?

If you weren’t her descendant

would they even bother with you?

At this moment, you don’t really care.

Honestly, you wish they’d forget.

Forget about you.

Forget about Lilith.

For fucksake she’s been dead for centuries at this point.

Let her fucking rest.  

Let you rest.

But you couldn’t

not when they clung to you like vanilla extract.

So sickly sweet to you.

So overbearing.

But they had to because…

You were Lilith, after all.

Beneath the Mask can be read as a somewhat one-off-au

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[alieinthemorning]

Small [Avatar of Gluttony | Beelzebub]

Content: Hurt/Comfort, Beelzebub's POV, Obey Me! Lessons 5 and 6 Spoilers

Pronouns: None

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He was the sixth oldest, second youngest

Created just seconds before his twin.

He was the strongest physically.

The tallest, the biggest—

The one who held the family together.

But sometimes

He felt small.

Sometimes he wanted to be the youngest who was doted on.

Short enough to look up to his older brothers for guidance.

Weak enough that he felt like he was on the brink of snapping.

But then you came along, and you started worrying about him and his family. His brother, who was in the human realm. He didn’t know how you knew about him, but his chest tightened at the thought of Belphie and Lucifer being close again. He didn’t know how to fix this, but you seemed like you had a plan.

He trusted you.

You, who shielded him from Lucifer’s wrath.

You,

a human.

Protected him,

a demon.

And as he watched over your resting body, now healed by Simeon from the devastating attack

That thin, thin line holding him together snapped.

He curled in on himself

and cried.

For the first time in a long time,

He truly let all go.

“Beel…”

Of course, you heard him, you always seemed too.

He bit his lip to muffle the cries, refusing to face you.

“...come’re.” He heard you shifting around in the bed until a warm hand landed on his knee.

Finally, he looked up.

Drowsy eyes with a thin layer of pain gazing at him so softly.

“You don’t have to talk about it now. We can just nap, and I’ll hold you.”

Just like Belphie.

He moved quickly, head slotting itself underneath your chin.

He didn’t want you to see the fresh wave of tears.

You probably felt them, though (You didn’t say anything).

Finally, he didn’t have to be the strong one.

Finally, he could just be held.

Somewhere within the House of Lamentation

A demon cried into a cow print pillow. 

I changed the title to Small. It just felt like it fit the story better than Hold Me.

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[alieinthemorning]

A Start [Avatar of Sloth | Belphegor]

Content: Lesson 16 Spoilers, Hurt/Comfort (lots of hurt/little to no comfort)

Pronouns: None

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“I’m sorry”

Is what he said as he enveloped you in a delicate hug.

A hug that conveyed things opposite of what you’ve felt from him.

His hands were soft and warm against your shoulder and lower back

Unlike the cold, callous lock he once had around your neck.

“I hate humans, you see.”

His face was hidden in your neck, but you could feel the tears slip from his face down your neck.

Not like before

When he stared you down as he watched the light in your eyes flicker and dim.

Now he just kept saying

“I’m sorry”

When it used to be

“I hate humans more than anything in the three worlds.”

He was actually apologizing.

When did you start crying?

Loud and uncaring.

You were just so scared and confused.

Scared of the past

Terrified of the future.

Confused by the present.

But there was one thing you found comfort in regardless.

That this was a start.

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[alieinthemorning]

Tears of the Strongest [Gojo Satoru]

Content: Established Relationship, Depressed Reader, Depressed Gojo Satoru, Depression, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Men Crying, AU: No Curses, AU: Modern, Proofread, Not Beta Read

Pronouns: None

Next: An Addition to Change

Header: @/nikki101pistar on Twitter

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You noticed that Satoru had two types of smiles.

The first could be ugly, strained, sardonic, sarcastic, rueful, malignant, forced, or condescending. Whatever it was, it lacked all warmth, but seemed to want to stay plastered on his face. Especially when he was talking on the phone to employees, his family, or anything adjacent to that.

The second one was one that he almost exclusively used with you. It was a soft, boyish smile that arose when you said something to him that truly caught his heart off guard. Sometimes the smile was small, and other times it was threatening to stretch across his face. Either way, your biggest clue in for discerning the difference was his dimples, and every time he smiled at you like that, you made sure to give them a loving poke.

But regardless of all that, there always seemed to be a darkness lingering behind those beautiful blue eyes of his.

A darkness you were ever so familiar with.

Things were getting bad again with Satoru, the business and his family. Things had taken an irreparable turn when his grandfather named him heir to the company instead of his father. His family had tried to persuade him to hand the company over to his father after ownership was transferred to him, but Satoru refused. They tried to do a lot of dirty, underhanded deals to get that title, even going as far as attempting to assassinate him... multiple times. Even after all that, they still were able to walk free. Not that Satoru pressed charges, since he knew there was no point.

And now here they were at your doorstep. Demanding that you speak some sense into their son.

Luckily for them, their son was there visiting.

"I'll see you in court." Were the only words he graced them with before slamming the door in their faces.

For the rest of the day, your gaze prodded him, but he refused to budge. Until it was after dinner, and you were withholding dessert from him.

He sighed, dramatically lolling his head back. "You're a Gojo. You're untouchable. You're strong. Even stronger than me, Satoru. This is why it has to be you and not your old man. Do you understand?" He recited in a gruff, but bored tone.

You eyed him, "That was your grandfather?"

He nodded, "Yep, I didn't really get what he meant at the time. I mean—I was seven, but now I do." He looked at you through the lens of his sunglasses, a crooked smile gracing his lips. "Regardless of all the shit they try to do to me, they can't touch me because I am stronger than them."

The smile dropped as if he suddenly realized something. "But you're not me. You're not strong. So now that they've come here—which, I don't want you living alone anymore." You rolled your eyes at him. "Now that they've come here, they've forced my hand, but don't worry about it." The smile was back, lacking his dimples. "I'll win for sure."

And he did. He won the case, but he didn't seem surprised. And not because of the heinous crimes that his mother and father had committed, but as if it was expected of him. Failure was not an option. His mother and father were to served life, and although it would be still be a life of luxury, it would be behind bars and away from the two of you.

During the legal proceedings, you were moved from your apartment to his house. You didn't mind, you had been talking about moving in together for a while now. It wasn't like you had any ties to the place, so you packed what little you owned and were snuggled against him the following night.

However, during the day when Satoru was gone, and it was just you in that big house, it made you feel small. Smaller than what you already felt, more lost than usual. You didn't like it. It also heavily disrupted your body's autopilot, so a lot of your days were spent doing nothing until you could finally set yourself into some semblance of routine again.

You said you were okay with the change, and you were,

but you also weren't.

The past lingered, and so did the remnants of Satoru's parent's will. Despite being locked up, there were still people who agreed that Satoru had no business running the Gojo conglomerate. They weren't as vile as his parents, but their campaigns against him were vicious.

And once again, you became their target.

You were unbothered by it. Knowing that you literally had no hand in anything to do with Satoru's business, and you really didn't want to be bothered by it either. The most interference you've done is made sure that he was properly taking care of himself.

But no. To them, you were a different kind of distraction.

So when you laid down with him that night, with his back facing you and an ample amount of space between the two of you, you decided enough was enough.

It was time that you humbled Gojo Satoru.

So, you wrestled him into your grasp, knowing good and well that asking him to talk would be futile. Surprisingly, his overgrown behind ended up in your lap. Your grip on him was firm, but soft as your words came out slow and steady, making sure he understood each and every word.

"Gojo Satoru is not the strongest man in the world. He is not a god who walks among men. He is human, he will die, and the world will move on without him."

It was like something in him snapped. In the moonlight's soft glow did his skin begin to glow, aided by the newfound dampness that rolled down his cheeks. You didn't move to wipe them away, you didn't want him to think that you were discouraging his tears. And you're glad that you didn't for a few moments later did his head slot against your neck, your bare shoulder rapidly becoming wet.

You held onto him just as fiercely when his fingers clutched at your skin, likely leaving marks, but you didn't care. He should be allowed this moment of vulnerability. In the safety of your embrace.

Because every strong point has a weak point.

Once the tears had dried, his voice croaked out a whisper.

"If I'm not the strongest, how can I protect you?"

You smiled, fingers gently brushing those white curls at the nape of his neck.

"We protect each other. We rely on each other. As much as human greed gets in the way, humans still reach out a hand when they're in trouble. And as your partner, I promise to always take your outstretched hand because I love you, Satoru."

His breath stuttered, then he sighed deeply.

"I love you too. So much."

Just as you were Satoru's weakness, you were also his strength.

There was a lot of present/past tense errors in here lol (the opener???? my god). A small bit of grammatical errors. And I changed a few things.

Also, I wrote this shit like a fucking omen because JJK236.

Apollo, holding the rubber ball called "The Gift of Prophesy"

Me, ready to catch that shit: PLAY BALL BITCH

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[alieinthemorning]

Surround [Avatar of Envy | Levithan]

Content: Hurt/ Comfort

Pronouns: None

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Nothing was going your way today.

First, you’d woken up at the ass crack of dawn and were unable to go back to sleep.

Then, you had spilled juice on your shirt during breakfast.

In front of everyone.

And finally…

Well, you hadn’t reached that point yet, but you felt it brewing.

The anger.

The need to throw or hit something.

But since you really didn’t want to go to Lucifer about breaking your mirror or some shit.

You decided to slip into something comfy, grab your D.D.D and book it to Levi’s room. He out of all the brother’s was probably the least likely to ask you what was wrong. Which you were thankful for because you were very close to a breakdown.

Fun.

When you made it in front of Levi’s door, you gave it three sharp knocks.

Paused, then gave it another two.

“Secret password accepted. Access granted.”

You pushed the door open with a nasal sigh, bee lining it for the bed-tub.

You wanted to feel like you were being held and just surrounded by a familiar, calming scent.

You snuggled in deep, then closed your eyes, quickly falling asleep to the sound of the gaming demon.

Leviathan didn't care for normie activities.

He had better things to worry about.

But when you knocked on his door with that knock.

He was a little worried.

Then you came in and went straight into his bed.

Not even a ‘Hi, what are you playing?’ or whatever.

He knew things were hard for you down here.

A human living with demons?

It had to be exactly like I’m a Demon Who Was Summoned into the Human Realm and Now I Have to Stay Here For a Year.

He shuddered at all the stuff the demon had to do.

He was happy it wasn’t him.

But…

He glanced over at you.

His brows furrowed and he bit his lip.

Then he ran a hand down his face before saving his game and turning it off.

He paced around the room for about three minutes before finally stopping in front of the tub.

This was fine, right?

The two of you had… cuddled… before.

Usually you’d initiate it.

Since he could never start something so normie-like himself.

So for him to do it while you were asleep, no less.

He played with his bottom lip, hand reaching out to touch you—Nope! He couldn’t do it!

But just as he was about to walk away, your voice stopped him.

“You gonna get in or what?” You extended your hand.

He squealed, hiding behind his hands.

“Oh, sorry. You don’t have to if you don’t want to...”

You went to drop your hand, but he grabbed it.

He still wasn’t looking at you, but that was okay. You pulled him in, readjusted yourselves till you found a comfortable position. With your head resting against his chest, you could feel his heart hammering against your skin.

But he didn’t need to know that.

And honestly, you didn’t care.

You just wanted to hold him close and close your eyes once more.

Surrounded by your safest demon.

I feel like I had a better feel on Levithan than I did the Reader lol

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[alieinthemorning]

Never Give Up [Queen Bee | Chloé Bourgeois]

Content: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Song: Never Give Up (LoliRock)

Header: @/polar-biscuit

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Never, never give up! Turn around and stand up

To be honest, she never thought she’d be entrusted with the Pollen again.

It’s okay to fall down And grow up!

But here she was hopping across rooftops on her night patrol.

Never, never give up Believing in yourself

She supposed she had done a lot of change in the past few months.

Fly away!

Queen Bee launched her spinner, gliding gracefully through the air.

Never, never give up! Turn around and stand up

She had missed this feeling.

You can put a smile back on your face

The small smile that donned the queen’s face broke out into a large grin as laughter bubbled to the surface.

Every day’s a wake-up!

She could finally break from her chrysalis.

You can be your true self

And spread the wings of her truth.

Fly away!

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[alieinthemorning]

Drift Away [Queen Bee | Chloé Bourgeois]

Content: Angst, Songfic, Song: Drift Away (Steven Universe)

Header: @/polar-biscuit

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Here in the Garden Let’s play a game

��Pound it!”

I’ll show you how it’s done

“Pollen, buzz off.”

Here in the Garden Stand very still

“Time to return it, Chloé.”

This’ll be some much fun

“...of course.”

And then she smiled That’s what I’m after

“When I need you again, I come for you, Queen Bee.”

A smile in her eyes The sound of her laughter

“I promise you can count on me, Ladybug!”

Happy to listen

Her idol trusted her!

Happy to play

She wasn’t going to let her down.

Happily watching her drift away

Because she promised.

Happily waiting All on my own

She was so excited to be Queen Bee

Under the endless sky

She had her father purchase her a large projection lamp with a bee on it.

Counting the seconds

So the moment an Akuma attack happened,

Standing alone

She could let Ladybug know she was ready and available. 

As thousands of years go by

Because she promised.

Happily wondering

Night after night

Will Ladybug need her for the next battle?

Is this how it works?

Another new hero?

Am I doing it right?

But she was right here…

Happy to listen

No— she just had to have faith

Happy to stay

And wait.

Happily watching her drift away

Because she promised.

You keep on turning pages for

She should have known.

People who don’t care about you

Every eye roll,

Every sneer,

Every time she brushed her off,

Every time she said something under breath.

And still, it takes you ages to see that no one’s there

Just like the rest.

See that no one’s there

Like her mother and father.

See that no one’s there

Like her sister.

Everyone’s gone on without you

Like her childhood best friend.

Finally something Finally news About how the story ends

She knew it.

She doesn’t exist now

Queen Bee had lost her crown.

Replaced by Vesperia

To another.

Tossed away again

Left alone in her destroyed hive.

Isn’t that lovely? Isn’t that cool? And isn’t that cruel And aren’t I the fool to have

She promised.

Happily listened

She believed her.

Happy to stay

She waited.

Happily watching her drift

As Ladybug left her

Drift

Like everyone

Drift away

Always did.

“Chloé Bourgeois, I am Shadow Moth.”

Reposting the original end note because I still stand by it:

Okay, so I have feelings! Basically! We were talking about how Marinette came to be the Guardian, which led me to have to refresh my memory. And it's kinda fucked up, that the only reason why Chloé even joined HM, was because he kinda sort spit some facts.

Because tbh, what has LB done for Chloé. Not a damn thing. Which would be fine, because she doesn't owe her anything, of course. BUT, she does treat her like shit. As she would if she were Marinette. Which is like, you gotta keep your hero beef and civilian beef separated, girl. Anyway, besides being hated by virtually every person in Paris, the one person she looks up to, couldn't give two shits about her.

And you know what? That fucking sucks! To have literally no one! So yeah, fuck it. Let the world burn. [Also no, this is Marinette salt or bashing nor is it salt or bashing against any other character. It's just straight facts.]

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[alieinthemorning]

Fleeting Adolescence [Gojo Satoru]

Content: Major Character Death, Angst, AU: No Curses, Blood and Injury, JJK 237 Spoliers

Pronouns: None

Previous: An Addition to Change

Header: @/nikki101pistar on Twitter

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Flashing red and waving navy blue faded into the background as your gaze fell onto something shinning amongst it all.

You approached it, wading through navy bodies and hands that shot out to stop you. You would not be halted, you would reach your destination.

Black hair, that usually shot out in every direction, spilled flatly against the pale forehead, soaked by the onslaught of rain. Usually vibrant violet eyes were now dull and stared beyond you. His usual dark ensemble of clothing was stained darker.

You kneeled down, reaching your hands out, and gently brought his head into your lap. You wanted to say something. There were so many things that you wanted to say, but every time you tried to say something, your brain stopped you. So you simply sat and stared into those once familiar violet eyes.

You don't know how long you sat there, but eventually someone rested their hand on your shoulder.

"Satoru." You whispered, pausing before looking up at him. "Where did I go wrong?"

You don't know what kind of expression you were making, but it was enough for his jaw to drop and to take a stumble away from you.

Your gaze fell back into the violet.

Megumi was having a rough adolescence. You would consistently get calls from his school, detailing you about his latest fight and that he would be staying late as punishment. You simply apologized. There was no need to say that he wouldn't do it again, because you knew that he would do it again. No need to make an ass of yourself.

You would wait for him to get home and confront him over dinner.

His answer was always the same: "I'm just doing what's right."

But was it really right when he was cracking jaws with his knuckles?

You decided to have Satoru try his hand at calming him, but that only seemed to aggravate him. Suddenly he wasn't just beating up bullies and instead kids who "bothered him". He wasn't staying to himself anymore, and instead he began hanging around some upper classmen named Sukuna. He came home later and later, bloody and bruised.

You had your suspicions, and they were confirmed when you stumbled upon Sukuna and his...friends while running errands. His friends called him by name, and you quickly glanced in his direction. You didn't need to stare because the arm and face tattoos were enough.  

Sukuna was a gang leader,

and Megumi was a part of that gang.

You and Satoru's attempts to help guide him away from Sukuna's gang only lead him further and further away from you and closer and closer to ruin.

You only wish you could have known just how deep ruin was for your dear Megumi.

"Satoru, where did I go wrong?"

One sentence that haunted him since it came from your mouth.

And when he looked at you.

You were crying, but your face was as blank as your gaze. Reminiscent of the violet ones that lay in the lifeless body in your lap.

He knew.

His worse fears had been realized.

Gojo Satoru was in fact not the strongest in the world. He was not a god who walked amongst men. He was human, he would die, and the world would move on without him.

Kuroo, one of the two dire wolves Megumi left behind, brushed up against him, whining softly.

He sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose as he screwed his eyes shut.

"Is this how you felt, Suguru?"

There was a lot of present/past tense errors in here lol. A small bit of grammatical errors. And I changed a few things. Added the dogs into this (forgot I added them in the previous part).

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[alieinthemorning]

Figure Skating [Ashido Mina]

Content: Fluff, Figure Skating, Injury, Love Confessions

Pronouns: None

Header: @/nimuello

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

Today was the day.

The day you were going to confess your feelings!

Sure, there’d be other people there, friends too, but that wasn’t going to deter you.

You gave yourself a determined look in the mirror. “I’m going to confess to Ashido Mina today no matter what.”

“Hey! You ready?”

You jumped with a high-pitched squeal.

Speak of the devil.

Mina surged forward, steadying the tittering mirror. “Woah, you good?” She gave you a once over. “You looked flushed… are you sure you can come with us?”

“I’m fine! I’m totally fine! Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Now,” You stepped around her, grabbing your bag. “Let’s go!”

The way to the skating rink should have been filled with nonsensical chatter about your holiday plans, but instead your thoughts were filled to the brim on the confession.

When would you do it? Closer to when it's time to go, or in the middle?

How would you do it? Pull off a few cool moves, or simply hold her hand?

What would you say? A simple confession, or something more drawn out?

Would you do it alone or with people around? Near the boys or around strangers?

Where would you do it? On the rink or on a bench?

Why are you doing it?

Why were you doing it?

Sure, you liked her, what wasn’t there to like, but you?

You frowned.

You were… average. You’d never been as great as Mina, and she deserved better than you.

Enjirou nudged you. “Everything good?”

You pulled the frown into what you’d hoped was a believable smile and said. “Yep! Just a little nervous is all!” He believed it, giving you a reassuring pat on the back, and left it at that.

The skating rink wasn’t as packed as you’d thought it would be yet was still lively enough.

Just before your group headed over to the desk, Mina called for your attention. “Okay guys, one more time before we go in. Absolutely no quirks.” She gave Katsuki a hard look, “Am I clear?” He rolled his eyes with a grunt, and pushed past her, with Enjirou chasing after him.

In Katsuki-speak, that meant “Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

Mina rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I have a few moves I want to show you guys.”

“Oh?” Hanta raised a brow. “Is it gonna be like what you showed us in class?”

“The break dancing stuff? Nah, that’d be too dangerous.”

“So, like, actually figure skating stuff?” Denki tried.

“I’m not telling!” She stuck her tongue out. “So you’re just gonna have to watch me!”

You’d watch her till your dying breath.

It had been awhile since you’d last done any ice skating, so you were a little shaky on the ice, but after about 20 minutes, you’d found your center. Since then, you’d been following Mina around the rink, simply watching as she pulled off actual figure skating moves ever so gracefully.

You wondered, if Quirks never existed, could the two of you live normal lives? Mina as a dancer, and you as her biggest fan? You would have met her at one of her performances, hitting it off from there? Living happily ever—

“Ah!” You weren’t watching where you were going and ended up slamming right into the wall. “Ow, ow, ow…” You rubbed your thigh, which you had landed on pretty hard.

“Oh my gosh!” Mina slid up beside you. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I, uh, wasn’t watching where I was going, and I ran into the wall.”

“Can you stand?” She helped you up. “Come on, let’s take a break.”

“No! Don’t let me stop you. I can go sit by myself.” You tried to pull away from her, but she pulled you back in.

She puffed her cheeks. “I know you’re hurting. You need to sit down.”

Ever so slowly, she pulled you off the ice and over to a bench, then went off to get something cold for the swelling and snacks.

Leaving you alone, just you and your thoughts.

If you had just been paying attention, this wouldn’t have happened.

If you hadn’t drawn attention to yourself, she wouldn’t have noticed.

If you had only lied better, she wouldn’t have stopped.

And you could have kept watching her.

You only felt the tears after a cold breeze stung your cheeks.

You tried to wipe them away but—

“Oh no! Does it hurt that bad?”

Mina. Always so caring.

And for her to care about someone like you—

“Should I call someone—?”

“I’m so sorry!” You shouted. “This is all my fault! If I hadn’t fallen, none of this would have happened.”

She sat beside you, placing the cold water bottle on the afflicted part of your thigh. “Accidents happen. It’s okay.”

You shook your head. “But it's not! If I hadn’t been so stupid, I wouldn’t have made you stop. If I wasn’t such a baby, you wouldn’t have to worry about me.” You sighed. “You really do deserve someone better than me…”

“…what?”

You sighed again, looking away. Might as well get this over with now. “Today was the day that I was going to confess my feelings for you, Mina.”

“H—huh? You like me?”

You gave a dry laugh. “Yeah, but don’t worry. You don’t have to answer me. I already know your—”

“I like you too!” She grabbed your hands. “The whole reason why I learned those moves was to impress you! I wanted to confess to you today too!”

“You…” She, “like me too?” liked you too?

“Yep! Which means,” She took a look around the area, “I can finally do this.” then leaned in, giving you a peck on the lips.

You passed out from overheating.

It was definitely worth it, though.

In this updated version, I mainly just fixed grammar, and also adressed the boys by their first name instead of their family name.

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