#he’s a nerd the ugly green glasses help me

[aimapandu]

Ignihyde Azul, what a nerd

[luna-loner]

Why I Love Them ❤

Gakushuu:

He's a complex character, what else can I say? It's so interesting to explore his relationship with other characters, be it the B5, his dad, or the E Class; Gakushuu offers so much potential.

Seo:

My second favorite Virtuoso! Seo's appeal for me largely comes from his most unappealing quality, which is his personality. Sure, he's an ass, but I admire how blunt and rude he is. He always gets me thinking of the question "Would you rather speak your mind or never speak again?"

Now, we know which option Seo would pick, and honestly, I would too were it not for the real life consequences that comes with it. Even when you speak your mind in a respectful way, some will still hate you and call you all kimds of names. Seo isn't exempt from this as he makes others uncomfortable, which is what makes him all the more intriguing for me. I'm not saying it's not deserved, but I sympathize with him for being insecure. (See all my other B5 and Seo-related posts for more details)

Basically, I love exploring Seo's psyche and unmasking the insecure soul beneath the arrogent facade; and the more I look into him, the more I wonder if you'd really rather speak your mind or forever stay silent, and just how far are you willing to go with your words?

Ren:

Just like with Seo, I'm interested in Ren's personality. I firmly believe he's a lot more than just another philanderer in the series. He's very calm, even under unpleasant situations. Even with their humiliating defeat against E Class, Ren still maintained his smile and composure. He's a good friend, not just to Gakushuu, but even to the rest of the B5. Shame his dynamic with them was never explored.

I have mixed feelings on his womanizing habits. I definetely don't like how pushy and touchy he is with girls (see episode 15), but boy, does that make him a fearsome opponent. He's like Irina's long lost desciple for crying out loud! This boy even suduced a middle-aged woman in the manga, WTH?!! I like the idea of Ren seducing girls for his friends' benefits (mainly Gakushuu) rather than solely for his own entertainment. I just love the idea of Ren helping his friends in the most questionable (downright terrible) method. Do you not see the depth this gives him? I love my morally gray Ren 🥰

Araki:

Honestly, it's his design, from the green hair and gold eyes combo, to his round face, to his freaking glasses! Araki. Is. Adorable!

Then there's his character; I was surprised to learn from the character book that Araki's actually a nice guy unless you're someone beneath him. We mostly saw the asshole side, which makes sense given how AC is E Class's story. Still, I like this two-faced aspect, makes you realize that even the nicest souls have skeletons in their closet.

Koyama:

His design, mostly....Koyama is the embodiment of "So ugly it's cute" (No offence, Koyama 😅) I just love how he's so tiny compared to the others (mainly because he's always slouching) it's cute and lowkey funny. Then there's that goddam shit-eating grin of his, and we can't forget about his gremlin laugh.

And now, thanks to Koro Q, I now see him as a diehard fantasy nerd and it's really wholesome.

The Big Five:

As a group, there's so much potential dynamic left to explore. Ren as the cool and calm party guy, Seo as the (blunt) voice of reasons, Araki as the second-in-command, and so much more! You can pair up two random Virtuosos and make up the most intriguing, maybe senseless dynamic ever.

But above all, it's the found family aspect that makes these idiots so lovable. It's admirable how the B5 remained loyal to their leader despite his worrisome obsession with crushing E Class, not out of fear, but because they genuinely love him. Ren can speak with him as equals, Koyama is grateful for the ego boost, and Seo hated seeing Gakushuu constantly lose. Gakushuu thought he was collecting minons, but he accidentally created his very own adoptive family. Now he has to live with the consequences of his actions-- Four of them to be exact!

That's all, folk! Would love to hear what other people love about these boys, especially from my mutuals 👀

[twistnet]

knitted [ brian zvonecek ]

CHRISTMAS COUNTDOWN PROMPT ─ day 01 [ ugly christmas sweaters ]

WARNINGS ─ female!reader, general fluff + mention of alcohol

it had been a tradition since molly’s had first opened. a small christmas celebration held a few days before christmas as most of the first responders worked the holiday. gabby, in efforts to make the celebration more festive and fun, had asked everyone to wear ugly christmas sweaters.

having not owned one yourself, you had just thought about going to the store to get one when otis proposed an idea: you each get the ugliest sweater you could find for the other.

after buying his sweater, the plan was to meet at molly’s after his shift. seeing as he would be helping herrman and gabby in getting the place ready for the night. 

otis stepped out from behind the bar just as you came inside, flecks of snow covering your jacket. smiling brightly as you come further in, pressing a brief kiss to your lips before getting you settled at the bar.

“ready to be disgusted?” you teased, setting the bag on the counter. otis nodded, grabbing his own bag and placing it next to yours, “only if you are ready to look super ugly wearing this.” shared laughter filled the room as you traded bags, and pulled out the sweaters.

“oh my god!” he chuckled as he unfolded the sweater and laid it out in front of him. the sweater was bright green, lines of tinsel wrapped around the chest and arms, and little strings of lights twisting in and out of the tinsel.

“brian!” followed by shared laughter as you pulled out an almost similar sweater, which had thick tinsel wrapped just around the arms and had a christmas tree on the front. “great minds think alike. don’t they, babe?” he nodded, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips just as gabby and herrman came from the back store room. they cheered at your sweaters, making some jabs about how similar the two of you were before herrman called for otis to help him with something. 

he leaned forward again, pressing a quick kiss to your lips as you bid your goodbyes. wishing them luck for opening with a promise that you’d be by a little after.

so, it came to no surprise when you had entered molly’s an hour later with sylvie to find the place already packed. everyone dressed in the ugliest sweaters they could find and already a couple rounds in.

you parted from sylvie, making your way to the bar, flashing otis a smile as you took a seat. he returned the gesture, having already started on your favorite drink and sliding it towards you, “that’s a pretty nice sweater you’ve got on.” you spoke over the music, hiding your smile behind the rim of your glass as a deep blush set across his cheeks, “thanks, my girlfriend who got it for me.”

you felt your face heat at his words, “well, she sounds like a very lucky girl.” he nods, leaning against the bar to move closer to you, “yeah, she’s pretty amazing if you ask me.” he whispers, leaning forward to press his lips against your own, humming appreciatively. 

“otis!” herrman calls from the side, causing the two of you to separate, “quit canoodling with your girlfriend behind my bar and go do that somewhere else! we’ve got customers!” the older man shakes his head as he moves to take otis’ place behind the bar counter. 

otis raises his hands in surrender, nodding his hand to the back of the bar. you snatch up your glass, maneuvering through the crowd to where he was waiting for you. pulling you to his chest the minute you were within arms reach, leaning in to kiss you again. hands move along the expanse of your back, fingers trailing over the different shapes and sew-ons that adorned your sweater.

“you’ve got a pretty cool sweater yourself.” he mutters against your lips casing you to chuckle. you pull back, sparing a glance to the fun design on the front, then back up to his eyes, “my boyfriend got it for me. he’s a bit of a nerd, but i still love him.” you smile as he rolls his eyes, kissing you once more. not missing the small muttering of his ‘i love you too’ against your lips.

joe bounds up, cutting your kiss short as he offers each of you a seat at the card game getting ready to start, “nah man, we’re good.” otis answers for the two of you, raising a brow when joe scuffs, “fine. you can go back to kissing each other.” before turning to leave. you cough out a laugh as brian shakes his head at his friends antics. turning back to you with a smile, “now, where were we?” he winks before capturing your lips again.

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[haik-choo]

what the holidays look like with the haikyuu boys

oikawa.

they look like sandy beaches, late sunsets, and tanned skin. festive red and green lights illuminate the bar you sit at with oikawa, the colors bouncing off his face as he looks at the menu. his skin is warm, heated from the setting sun; his arms and shoulders are tan, his pale chest peaking through his loose sleeveless shirt. “it’s strange for december to be so warm,” he murmurs as your finger traces circles on his open palm. “only to you. for everyone else here it’s just another day.” he makes a face and nods, flipping to the next page of the menu. “don’t you miss your home, tooru? japan must be nice and chilly outside right now.” he laughs, finally closing the menu and looking up at you, eyes shimmering. “it’s more than chilly. the roads must have iced over by now. but...” you lean in, anticipating his next words, “but...?” “...but, I am home. I’m here with you.” shy, you scoff, brushing his hand away and rolling your eyes. “oh, shut up.” you look at the beach in front of the restaurant for a while, heart pounding too hard to look back at your grinning boyfriend. from outside your peripheral vision his hand reaches to grab yours again and brings it up to his lips, gently kissing the back of your palm. “I mean it, though,” he whispers, “you really are my home.” the words tickle the hairs on your hand, heating up your ears and cheeks. you look back at him, taking in his glowing demeanor and loving touch, eyes soft. “I know. and you’re mine, tooru.” 

tsukishima.

they look like messy hair even in the evening, neither one of you bothering to comb it when you woke up. there’s no fireplace, instead, there’s kei’s laptop on the coffee table, a video of fire playing, gentle wooden crackles filling the warm silence. the lights are off, save for the lamp that barely glows bright enough to be able to read under it. but, it still works. kei’s long legs are outstretched towards the coffee table, feet clad in red fuzzy socks you got him last year. in his left hand is a small book, some stupid small-font history book he’s reading for work; in his right hand a cup of hot chocolate made with hot water, marshmallows floating on top. you sit next to him, hands in lap, legs outstretched across the rest of the couch, eyes closed, only listening to the faux fire sizzling in front of you. “look at you, Mr. Studious Nerd,” you impishly joke, eyes opening to turn and look at his reaction. “shut up or you’ll get coal for christmas.” you pout, “I thought I got a promise ring?” a resolute sigh leaves his lips, eye closing for just a second, “I knew you’d sneak a look at your gift early.” you smile widely, shrugging. smugly, tsukshima goes back to reading, “good thing I got you something else to actually surprise you.” gasping, you latch onto his shoulder, eyes wide. “what?! really? I thought I checked all of the gift-hiding spots, though?” the sound of a page turning followed by a sigh and the closing of a leather-backed book resonates throughout the room. suddenly, you become warmer when a pair of lips brushes against your forehead. an arm wraps around your shoulder to pull you in, closer. a soft, “I love you so much, you dweeb,” rings like merry bells in your ear. under your breath, shy yet curious, you grumble, smile creeping on your face, “you dodged my question, idiot.” 

kageyama.

they look like his toned legs extended out on the green couch you bought together, ice packs on each of his thighs and around his shoulders. his sniffle can be heard across the living room, red nose under attack from his cold. you smile, porridge in hand in a little festive bowl that has menorahs painted on the sides. “happy holidays, tobio. hope this helps you feel better.” the black-haired setter scoffs, “the only thing that would make me feel better is for this stupid cold to go away.” “I told you not to practice outside with wet hair. now your muscles hurt and you’re sick. you are simply reaping your consequences,” you reason, snobbish look on your face before it breaks with the roll of his eyes. laughing, you move his legs and sit next to him, spoon in hand. you raise your brows when he pouts and looks away, brows drawn close together. “I know you aren’t acting like a literal toddler right now.” “I don’t need you to feed me!” rolling your eyes, you sigh and place the porridge across the coffee table and stand up. “fine. feed yourself you nimrod.” not even two steps out the room you hear a low grumble come from the couch. turning around, you see kageyama with his head low, mouth barely moving. “can you feed me?” you give him a look, “...please?” smiling, you walk back over. his deep navy blue eyes contrast with the light red of his nose and around his eyes; your heart jumps as you feed him, his eyes trained on you. moments pass, silence covers the room in a safe, secure blanket. when he’s done eating, you place the bowl on the table before shoving kageyama aside to lay next to him. “you’ll get sick,” he says, but his arm is already wrapped around you, “maybe.” another second passes before he speaks again, “I really appreciate you, ya know.” you smile, turning on the tv to the sports channel, “yeah, I know.” 

akaashi.

they look like batter-splattered countertops, green and red sprinkles dusting the floor and dangerously close to the stovetop. a warm vanilla scent exudes from the oven, the timer counting down from twelve minutes. akaashi is bent over the burners, stirring beige eggnog with a wooden spoon. unfortunately, it looks lumpy and burned on the edges, somehow. with a sigh of defeat, the wavy-haired man puts a lid on the pot and moves across the galley-way kitchen, leaning on the white counters. you look over from the fridge, amused. “chef’s special doing downhill?” he chuckles weakly, nodding, “you have no idea. I think I burnt it...somehow.” you laugh, closing the refrigerator door with your hip, two glasses of eggnog in your hand, “that’s why I bought these, big man.” he takes the glasses, quirking a brow, “good thinking.” it’s quiet as you lean next to him, both watching the clock tick down closer and closer to zero. in this time you decide to stare at the love of your life, his nose with a slight bump in the middle, his eyelashes grow outward like grass, his tired yet loving eyes, staring straight at you. oh. you blink, turning away. “sorry. got caught in the moment.” akaashi hums from beside you, not missing a beat as his hand comes up, picking something from your hair. he rolls it in his fingers, “looks like dandruff,” he jokes, making you groan and push him away. “I’m just kidding,” you can hear the grin in his voice, you can see it too once he moves to the front line of your sight, forehead coming to rest against yours. gently, he brushes his nose with your own, eyes open only a sliver. “I am so in love with you.” he whispers, voice fragile and warm. heart swelling, you gaze up at him, “I love you, too, keiji.” in the background, the timer beeps thrice, but neither of you really rush to take them out of the oven, you bought extra cookies just in case, anyway. 

kenma.

they look like warm fuzzy blankets layered on his full sized bed, the low glow of the led lights on his ceiling shining down on you both. the sound of clicking buttons and occasional ending screen of a failed level play behind you; your own nose buried in your phone, scrolling past posts of friends out and about. kenma’s sock-clad feet rub against each other in lieu of more warmth as his head shrinks back under the protection of the white blanket on top of him. “I’m still cold,” he mutters before scoffing as he fails the same level again for what must be the thousandth time. he tosses the nintendo aside, shifting closer to you. “get another blanket then,” you muse, eyes still trained on your phone. “hmm, don’t wanna,” you feel his cold nose dig into the back of your neck, his arms encircling your waist; a warm breath fans across your nape, and you twitch. laughing, you try to elbow him away, but he whines at your resistance and holds onto you tighter. amused, you click off your phone and shove it under your pillow, turning towards him. you’re met with glowing 24 karat-gold-eyes and messy hair. he stares unblinking at you, and shyness overcomes you as he shamelessly lands his gaze at your lips. nothing can compare to the image of kenma slowly leaning towards you, sunny eyes closing in anticipation of a sweet kiss. a few beats pass with his lips on yours, and he’s in no rush when he pulls away, still staring at you. “you taste like apple fritter.” shy, you place a hand on his chest, “don’t you have a stream in like an hour or something?” “that can wait,” he whispers, body snuggling into yours. 

sugawara.

they look like ribbon and tissue paper strewn across the floor of a shared apartment. glitter spilled on the table, scissors open wide in an unsafe position peaking out from under the couch (that has an obscene amount of pillows with different holidays listed on them), tubes of wrapping paper scattered in random corners. you sit opposite of the gray-haired beauty, sticking labels on newly-wrapped presents, each of them addressed to a kid at the orphanage down the street. sugawara’s tongue pokes out of his mouth, nimble thumbs placing tape of the edges of the festive wrapping paper. “you know, koushi, not all of the kids celebrate christmas,” the former setter looks at you quickly, shrugging, “I know! I just wanted to get each of them a gift anyway! wouldn’t you be bummed if I got light up cinderella shoes but you got nothing?” you laugh, shaking your head. it’s silent for a few minutes more, the last few wraps being the most complicated ones, spheres and cylinders. you sit, waiting, gazing at the ugly sweater his kindergarten kids had gotten him (they all chipped in a few dollars (or their parents did)) that was a size too small and incredibly itchy, but he still wore anyway. “hmm, whatcha starin’ at?” his voice broke you from your trance. you stay quiet a few seconds more muttering, “you’ve got such a beautiful heart, koushi.” a blush erupts on your boyfriend’s face, his hands stilling before he smiles softly and continues his job. “only because you’re here by my side. you make me a better person each day.” you bite your lip and play with the nametags in your hand, feeling bad because you know you have the best gift out of all of the kids, and he’s sitting right across from you, failing at wrapping a soccer ball. 

tendou. 

they look like empty streets in the earliest hours of the morning, a time so early yet late that the birds are asleep, yet twitching in anticipation to be awake. the snow falls gently on the salted sidewalk, fresh and fluffy. a loud laugh breaks through the silence of the neighborhood street, the crunching of snow following suit. red hair dashes from piles of snow to behind lampposts, garbage cans, mailboxes. you wind your arm up, a heftily packed ball of (almost) ice ready in your palm for ammunition. a giggle leaves your lips as tendou grabs his own ball of snow, cheeks bitten pink by the harsh cold. ‘he’s fast, but not fast enough’ you think as you launch the snowball. it flies through the air, hitting the lanky chocolatier in the face with a satisfying crunch. tendou stills, nose red and wet from melted snow as you laugh so hard you almost fall over. a smile slowly climbs his now-numbing face and he walks towards you. your laughter only stops when he’s right in front of you, gazing down at your gleeful figure with love swimming in his eyes like marshmallows in gourmet hot chocolate. the snow rests on top of his buzzed red hair like white icing to red velvet cake. warmth radiates off him, penetrating deep in your heart. “you’re so beautiful,” he mutters, embracing you. you melt in his arms, but the feeling of wet coldness slapping into your back and the sound of crunching snow tell you of his crime. you can only laugh and call his name, “tendou satori, get back here!” and chase his nimble figure down the road back home, where he’ll hug you -- for real, this time. 

[discocactusblogs]

Heather- Jason Todd x Chubby Reader Pt.1

{Author's Note: _____ is a blank to put your name}

"Girl, just tell him!" Barbara whispered and nudged me towards my best friend, Jason Todd aka Robin, the boy wonder.

I had found out about him being Batman's sidekick when we were 13, shortly after he became Robin.

"Easy for you to say! Look at you! You're gorgeous! You're fit and thin and redheaded! Just look at me… I'm...not so fit... I'm chubby. I'm a plain bagel. I'm not ugly but I'm not exactly pretty either." I sighed and gestured to my chubby body.

" ______, I know what I'm telling you. Just tell him." She sighed. "Besides, you're gorgeous too! And very intelligent and mature for a fifteen-year-old!" Barbara smiled, holding up a banana like a wand.

"As if. What guy my age sees a girl and goes, 'What a lovely personality?' Get real Babs, no one wants a plain bagel." I shrugged.

"Welp, I gotta get going or I'll be late for work. But trust me, he won't turn you away." She turned away, obviously knowing something I didn't.

"Hey _____!" Jason spoke as he walked up to me from the curb of the grocery store, I had gone to buy some fruit my mom had told me to get.

"Hey Jay." I sighed with a slight blush on my cheeks.

"Are you okay? It's kinda cold today… Where's your jacket?" He asked, tilting his head to the side slightly.

"My jacket!" I gasped. "I forgot it at school!"

"School's closed now. They just locked the gate." He replied with a shrug.

"My mom's going to kill me. That's the only jacket I have!" My eyes watered, knowing my mother was going to be furious with me when I got home.

"Take mine then. I have others at home." He unzipped his hoodie.

"N-no. It's fine. I can get it Monday from school." I spoke softly while staring at the ground.

He draped his jacket over my shoulders. "I said, take it. Besides, it looks better on you than me. It goes well with your hair color. Here, let me hold your stuff so you can get it on." He smirked, knowing I wouldn't refuse if he spoke sternly with me. He took the bag from my hands and I looked at him. "Zip. It. Up." He frowned.

"Yes sir." I put my arms in the jacket and zipped it up. He was bigger and bulkier than I was, so the jacket fit me rather loosely and was down to my mid thighs but it was comfortable and warm. Much warmer than the jackets and sweaters I had before.

"Hm… keep it. I know your dad hasn't been working a lot lately. It gets pretty cold so you can keep that one. Bruce got me some others at home. Just don't tell anyone, got it? I only share with you because I've known you since we were kids. You took care of me so I'm taking care of you." He looked at me, handing back the bag of fruit. "Now, don't think I'm getting soft or being a gentleman. You're still carrying your stuff." He smirked.

I smiled and chuckled. "Thanks." I took the bag and walked down the street with him.

"Hi Jason!" An annoying voice called out from the ice cream shop.

"Hm? Oh, hey Heather." Jason turned around and seemed slightly irritated.

"Are you going to the pep rally tonight?" Heather asked with fluttering eyelashes. She was Jason's girlfriend.

Dark hair, slim figure, bright eyes, how could I compete with that?

"Uh, no." He replied flatly.

"Why not, I'm going to be performing!" She countered.

"I'm just not feeling it. I don't like pep rallies." He shrugged. "Not my thing."

"Okay then. Wanna get some ice cream?" She asked.

"Go ahead and go home ______, I'll catch up later." He looked apologetically at me and walked across the street.

I nodded and kept walking.

I watched as Heather smiled and hugged him.

It hurt.

He was dating her and she was so sweet. Everyone loved her so, I can see why he did too. She always had a smile on her face.

I kept walking, tears stinging my eyes. There's no way I could ever be like her. He liked her more and would run to her at the drop of a hat.

Arriving at home, I stepped inside. "Hey mom! I'm back!" I set the bag on the counter.

"Oh good! Make sure you do your homework!"

"Yes ma'am!" I sigh and go up to my room, closing the door.

Out of instinct, I called my friend, Valerie.

"A simple solution to your problem is to play spin the bottle or something." She teased.

"Why would he ever kiss me? I'm nowhere near as pretty as Heather!" I clutch the sleeves of the hoodie before taking it off and throwing it onto my bed.

"He gave her his sweater." My eyes watered as I told her what had happened at school that day.

"The black one or the fake polyester one?" Valerie asked.

"The black one."

"Oh dear. I'll be right over." She hung up.

"Is it wrong to wish she were dead?" I chuckled softly when Valerie came through my bedroom door.

"Yes. It's your jealousy and I'm gonna chop off your legs if you continue on this path, Anakin." Valerie smirked.

"Dude, I was kidding." I turn in my swivel chair.

"Yeah, it was a failed attempt at a joke. I'm sorry about Jason. If it makes you feel better, Bradley dumped me." She looked at the ground.

"Here's the plan, I drive the car and Jason shoves him into the road and we make it look like an accident." I spoke whilst drawing out the plan.

"Don't worry about it."

"Worry about what?" Jason walked in.

"Oh, you came!" Valerie smiled.

I looked at her, what a traitor.

"So, I heard you gave Heather your sweater!"

"This one?" He held up said object. "Eh, we broke up. She liked someone else and so did I." He sat on a beanbag chair.

"Wait what? But you really liked her and she's so nice!" I exclaim in shock.

"Relax ______, it was mutual." He chuckled. "There's actually something I came to talk to you about." He seemed nervous, his cheeks tinting red and so were the tips of his ears.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I'll go get water." Valerie got up, stretched and went downstairs.

"I don't know how to say this. This is difficult for me but… I'm sorry. I don't want to be your friend anymore." He sighed.

My eyes widened. "W-what?"

"Yeah. I'm...tired of it." He stood up.

"But Jason, you're my best friend!"

"I know. Hey, do you know what material this shirt is?" He checked his shirt.

"Jason, now's not the time-"

"Answer!"

"I don't know! Cotton, maybe?!" I was growing panicked and my eyes were stinging with tears.

"Wrong, it's boyfriend material. And so is that hoodie." He smirked.

I stood in silence.

"What?" He asked.

"Jason Peter Todd, are you...asking me to be your girlfriend????" I stood, mouth agape in shock.

He smirked and nodded. "Sure thing buttercup! I... love you." His face turned beet red.

"Why? I'm not pretty. I'm not slim or fit or anything-"

"Because you're smart, and cute, you're kind and brave. You're so cool too and geek out with me. We both nerd out over science stuff and books. What's not to love???" The look on his face was one of pure confusion, as if the answer was as clear as day.

"Jason, I love you too." I spoke in a hushed whispers as a few years fell from my eyes.

"Don't cry! Why are you crying???"

"I'm just happy! I've liked you for so long!"

"So have I but I'm not crying!"

"I didn't think you'd like me because I'm chubby!"

"What?! You think I'm that shallow? I'm offended!"

"Jay and ______ sitting in a tree~" Valerie teased from the doorway.

"Val!" We exclaimed in unison, Jay pulling me into a side hug.

"Fine! I'mma head out!" She grabbed her backpack and left.

A few days later, Jason was going to leave for a mission that I didn't want him to go on. I knew how dangerous it was for him to go alone.

"I'm leaving...for Bosnia. Bats needs my help." He looked at me sadly.

"Jay, please. Don't go. What if something happens?" I pleaded, clutching onto him tightly.

It was only a few days ago that he confessed to me and we were trying to figure out where to go with our relationship, which led to this argument.

"I'll come back. I promise." He kissed the top of my head. "Love ya." He smirked. His forest green eyes shone in the sunlight like an emerald.

He seemed so confident that he would be okay.

"Jason, no! I have a bad feeling you're not coming back!" I pleaded harshly, grabbing his wrist and asking him to stay.

"I'm just going to meet my birth mom, I'll be fine!" He assured me. "Here, hold onto my jacket for me." He took off his leather jacket and handed it to me.

I nodded with tears escaping the corners of my eyes. "I love you Jason…" I said as I watched him hop into the car and leave. Little did I know that would be the last time I ever saw him.

I kept that jacket with me at all times after that.

A few weeks went by without a word from Jason and the pit on my stomach only grew, the only thing keeping me sane was the scent of his cologne on his jacket that lingered still.

Finally, I mustered up the courage to go to Wayne Manor and ask if anyone's heard from Jason. It was then my heart shattered into pieces.

"Miss ______, I am so terribly sorry. I thought someone had already told you… Master Jason died last week." Alfred sat me down at the kitchen counter for tea.

My eyes widened and the porcelain teacup fell from my hand, shattering onto the tile floor. Tears flowed from my eyes like a cerulean waterfall. "No one told me!" I shouted, falling to my knees to clean up the mess with blurry eyes.

"Miss ______, I can get it." Alfred stopped me, only to realize I was bleeding from a deep cut from a glass shard on the top of my hand, a cut that would leave a scar for years to come.

"He can't be dead… he promised he would come back." I whispered, not even flinching from the cut.

"Here, allow me to tend to that." Alfred took out the first aid kit and cleaned the wound, giving it a few stitches.

"How…?" I asked, flinching from pain.

"... The Joker. Master Bruce didn't make it in time." He replied, the sorrow evident in his tone.

I nodded and thanked him for the help and the tea.

"Send a car to take her home." I heard Bruce from the doorway.

"Right away, Master Bruce." Alfred excused himself.

"His funeral is this Saturday if you'd like to come." Bruce turned away from me.

"I'll be there. Time?"

"Noon."

"See you then."

When the funeral finally took place, the reality of Jason's death set in. He wasn't coming back like he promised. I left a rose on his casket and bawled as I watched them lower the casket with my best friend and love of my life, into the dark, cold ground and with it, my heart.

"You promised." I whispered to myself, looking away from the scene. It was then I decided I wanted to be a nurse to help heal people.

Five years later, my dream of being a nurse was nearly achieved. I was two years away from graduating and I went to visit Jason every day on the way home from work. I still lived with my parents since I was a student at the local university, thanks to Bruce.

When I approached the door, that's when I saw it. A single rose on the bench outside the door along with a cryptic letter. 'Hang in there.' it said with a happy face at the end.

I was stumped but the notes and roses kept happening at least once a week and they soon came every day. At least, until the night that would change my life forever.

(Part Two)

(Masterlist)

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Stalker X Stalker, Part 4

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Perma tag: @nathleigh

Stalker x Stalker taglist: @aespades @jayjayspixiepop @blueslushgueen @fan-written @seraphichana @nerd-nowandforever

Marinette almost missed Hawkmoth. Sure, she ended up extremely emotionally repressed, but hey! At least her opponent was stupid, at least she never had to fear losing.

But, yeah, that was why she didn’t notice the fact that chloroform was on the floor. That was way too smart for a villain, in her opinion. Wasn’t Joker supposed to be insane or something? Why wasn’t he completely stupid like Hawkmoth had been?

Those were her last thoughts before her vision blacked out.

She blinked her eyes open one time while she was being transported, but… it wasn’t enough. Her head pounded, her limbs felt like lead. She tried to pull one of her arms away from the five goons carrying her around -- she giggled at how much effort they were going through to keep a half-conscious person down -- but it was too weak to even break their grip. She wasn’t going to be getting out of the situation anytime soon.

She rested her head back against the chest of whoever was carrying her head.

Her eyes fluttered shut without her permission.

It took a while for her to be able to open her eyes again, and when she did she was almost tempted to close them. She was tied up with Red Robin, hanging upside down over a vat of acid. Decidedly not a good situation to be in. Maybe she could ignore it for a little longer…?

She buried her face in the neck of Red Robin’s suit, using the cool material as a kind of cold pack to try and soothe her pounding headache.

… wait... Red Robin!

She had a bit of protection because of her mask covering her mouth and nose and miraculous immune system, but he was a human and both his mouth and nose were uncovered! Shit!

Marinette pulled back as much as she could to check his face and see if he was okay and then cursed the domino mask blocking his eyes from her view. What she could see wasn’t good, though: the skin of his face had broken out into hives where he had come into contact with the chloroform. Ouch.

She tried just poking the good parts of his face with her nose to get him to wake up, but clearly that wasn’t working. Alright, new plan.

“Red Robin?” She whispered.

Nothing.

“Red Robin Red Robin Red Red Red Red Red…”

She was pretty sure she was doing this annoying thing right. She didn’t have siblings, how could she know?

Wait wait wait, what was that one thing that his siblings always said to him?

“Reeeeed Robin, yum~.”

Not even that got a response? Damn, he must really be out of it.

Time for drastic measures, then.

She tipped her head back as far back as it could go and then slammed her forehead against his. This evoked a lot of swearing from both parties. Apparently, headbutting people doesn’t help headaches.

When her head stopped ringing as loudly, she peeked her eyes open. “Sorry, checking to see if you were alive.”

He gave about as much of a nod as he could. “It’s… I understand why you had to do it.”

She gave a tentative smile. “Right. Still, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he assured her, then glanced down to see what they were working with. He bit his lip anxiously. “Ah, that’s not good,” he said after a few moments of consideration.

She rolled her eyes because, yeah, obviously. She didn’t say that aloud, it wasn’t productive, so she said: “I’m going to squirm. See if you can free your arms a little?”

“Do you think I have some kind of gadget in my gloves for every situation?”

“Don’t you?”

He hesitated. “I mean… yes, I do have something that could help us out of the ropes, but we are kinda over acid right now. How fast is your reaction time?”

She tipped her head from side to side with an awkward smile. “Not great.”

“Then maybe we should just wait for backup --.”

“Do you think they’ll get here before Joker does?”

“... you’re right. Start squirming --.”

“Wow, you two hate me that much? I’m hurt,” a voice cooed.

Marinette jumped out of her skin. She craned her neck to glare at Joker for scaring her…

And immediately regretted it. Why was his face not attached to his skull properly? Did he cut his own face off? Who even does that? Ew.

Red Robin scowled at him. “I can’t say we were all glad to hear you were out.”

“Red Robin...” she warned.

“Wow, not even old Batsy was happy to hear the news?”

“Nope. Didn’t say anything, actually.”

Joker’s smile wavered. “He didn’t?”

“Um, Red,” she tried again.

“Nothing,” he confirmed. “Not. A. Word.”

Joker didn’t seem to know what to do about this information. Batman wasn’t even paying attention to him? What was the point, then?

Marinette was also concerned about what was going on, but for a completely different reason. She leaned close to his ear and whispered: “Why are we trying to anger the psychopath?”

He gave as much of a shrug as he could while tied up. “If he’s talking he’s not trying to kill us.”

“And what if he gets angry enough to kill us?”

“He probably won’t.”

She winced. “Okay, I really don’t like your use of ‘probably’ there --.”

With both of their hands forced behind their backs, the only comfort he could really give was pressing his good cheek to hers. It shouldn’t have worked, but apparently life or death situations mess with your emotions.

“Just… trust me?” He pleaded quietly.

She sucked in a deep breath before turning to glare at Joker, who was still having a crisis over the fact that Batman didn’t care as much as he did. Well, she guessed that she had to take out her headache on someone. Might as well be the bitch in ugly clown makeup.

“You know, I don’t even understand why people are scared of you.”

Joker frowned and turned to look at her. “What?”

“I mean, I get why Poison Ivy is feared, I get why Mr. Freeze is feared… I even get Penguin and Riddler since they both have a high enough intellect to make up for their lack of powers… but you’re just… some guy.”

Joker gave her a cold look. “I could kill you.”

“So could a particularly determined cow, you’re not special.”

Red Robin snickered. She smiled, a little proud of herself for making him laugh.

Their grins were wiped off their faces when the rope holding them up dropped.

It caught them again dangerously close to the acid. Red Robin was a few centimeters from getting a new haircut. Marinette wondered, morbidly, whether her suit would go with her if she disintegrated.

“Not going to kill us, huh?”

“... well, I did say probably,” he mumbled, his face a little red.

She swallowed thickly. “If we live, I’m going to kill you.”

“Fair. Want to mess with him if he’s going to kill us anyways?”

“... yes.” She whipped around to glare at Joker again. “I mean, honestly, why aren’t you dead yet?”

“We don’t kill,” supplied Red Robin.

She grinned. “Sure, and I get that. I’m also not fond of murder... but is every citizen in Gotham just agreeing to not kill him? Does Batman spend all his time making sure that civilians don’t do it? Why hasn’t anyone seen him on the street and just tried to run him over?”

“... I mean, Robin hit him with the Batmobile once.”

“See?” She grinned. “And don’t even get me started on Punchline and your goons, Joker. How did you find so many people loyal to you?”

“I love him!” Said Punchline defensively.

“... sweetie, if you want a pasty white guy with green hair just watch 2016 Jacksepticeye.”

Red Robin nodded. “At least he’s kind of funny sometimes.”

“If you need the guy to be evil, how about the evil alter ego he made… what was he called?”

“Antisepticeye.”

“Ha, you’re a fucking nerd,” Marinette teased.

Red Robin blushed (or maybe that was just the blood slowly rushing to their heads from being upside down for so long) and pointedly ignored her: “Look up Antisepticeye. It’ll probably be healthier for you.”

Punchline didn’t have a retort for that. Marinette was deciding that was because she was considering it, not because she probably didn’t know who Jack/Antisepticeye was.

She pushed on: “And, hey, you goons don’t have to give Punchline over there the glory. Stab your boss. C’mon, it’ll be cool. Doubt he’s paying you more than whatever bounty is on his head, anyways.”

“If you’re going to rally henchmen maybe you shouldn’t call them ‘goons’,” suggested Red Robin.

She pouted. “But ‘goons’ sounds cuter.”

He opened his mouth to retort but she’d never know what he was going to say because, at that moment, Signal and Robin came busting in through the skylight.

~

Tim relaxed when he heard the glass shatter. Whether Marientte’s henchmen rallying had somehow worked or their backup had come, it at least meant that Joker and Punchline were distracted from wanting to murder them.

He struggled to crane his neck to see what was going on.

Oh. Damn. Damian was back from his angsting on the weird murder island? And he was here? Nevermind, he’d prefer Joker and Punchline. Damian was never going to let him live this down.

Speaking of Damian, a weight jumped onto their ropes and the three vigilantes became a pendulum. Tim grit his teeth tightly and Marinette let loose a long string of swears as their headaches worsened.

But, apparently, the world wasn’t done with them. Damian sliced the line at the highest point and they went flying across the room. Tim was the unlucky one on the bottom when they hit the ground, which he doubted was an accident.

Damian left them to deal with things on their own from there. Least he could have done was cut them free with his katana, but Tim supposed that was too much to wish for from the youngest brother.

He rested his head back against the cool floor for a second. He could feel Marinette stretch across his shoulder to do the same. They sighed in relief. This was the closest they had come to treating their headaches and wow was it nice.

But, frankly, resting in the middle of a fight isn’t a great idea. So, they wriggled around on the floor until he was able to flick open the tiny knife in the index finger of his gloves and cut the rope binding them without, y’know, cutting one of them instead.

Freedom! What did they do with this newfound freedom, you may ask? Scratch their heads. Turns out chloroform sucks for many reasons and one of those is that it’s a major skin irritant.

He also vomited. Thank god they’d been freed. He’d been only a few seconds away from throwing up on Marinette. He felt especially bad about that when she peeled a hand from her itching to hold his hair away from his face.

The fight was over soon enough. Duke and Damian came over to watch the two of them attempting to peel their skin off layer by layer.

“Pathetic,” chided Damian.

“Don’t be a dick --.” Marinette cut herself off, her hand flying to her mouth. “I swore in front of a baby.”

“I’m twelve!”

“Exactly: a baby.” She reached out and cupped a very affronted Damian’s face in her hands. “Look, you still have baby fat! You shouldn’t be fighting crime!”

Tim couldn’t tell if she was messing with Damian for being rude to them or if she genuinely saw him as a little kid. He wasn’t going to correct her. She’d remember he was a gremlin soon enough.

Damian wrenched his face from her grip. “If I hadn’t come you two would have been burned in acid.”

“Please, we all know Signal probably could have dealt with this entirely on his own,” Marinette waved him off.

Duke rested a hand over his heart like he was touched.

Tim rolled his eyes and pulled Marinette to him, resting his head on top of hers lazily. “We should get a checkup at the cave. Chloroform has… not nice effects and we both rolled around in it a little while fighting.”

Duke and Damian both winced, but Marinette didn’t seem all that concerned.

“I’ll be fine. My immune system is enhanced by --.”

Duke clapped his hands by her ears as loudly as he could. Neither Marinette nor Tim were particularly happy about it.

“Behold: a headache, one of the main symptoms of chloroform. Your face also has some red streaks, so don’t even try to deny that the chloroform is affecting you.”

“I take back my praise, I’ve decided I hate you,” she murmured, massaging her temples.

“I just remembered that I need the siren on my bike on to tell all the other bats we’ll need them at the cave...”

“Wait, no --.”

~

Marinette glared at Black Bat and Spoiler. The batboys had left the infirmary area for her own comfort and that was nice of them but she would really prefer if she hadn’t had to come at all.

Now she sat in some of Black Bat’s pajamas and one of Spoiler’s spare masks as they inspected her.

Her nose scrunched as Black Bat drew blood from her arm.

“This is dumb. I don’t need this.”

“We’ve been told. Humor us?” Spoiler said and, though Marinette couldn’t see her face from where she was, she knew she was rolling her eyes.

“I would if you were actually funny.”

“I think we can definitely put her down for irritability,” commented Spoiler.

Black Bat nodded and dutifully wrote it down. Traitor.

The cool metal of a stethoscope was pressed to her back and she cringed.

“Deep breaths.”

Marinette complied, however reluctantly. Might as well get all this bullshit over with as soon as possible.

… she was regretting that decision, now, though.

She gave Batman a cold look. “You can’t keep me here.”

“You need to stay so we can monitor your state overnight. You could have asphyxiated.”

“But we didn’t,” complained Red Robin, who looked just as annoyed about this as she was.

“We have lives, B,” she said.

“You weren’t going to do anything other than patrols tonight, don’t act like I’m tearing you away from something important.”

“The protection of the city is important,” Red argued.

“Neither of you would be much help tonight in the state you’re in, anyways.”

Red Robin stuck his lower lip out in a pout. Marinette gave her best puppy-dog eyes.

Batman wasn’t moved. “If you need something, Agent A will provide it.”

She blinked, eyes returning to normal in her confusion. “Who --?”

He disappeared into the shadows before she could finish the conversation, something she was, unfortunately, getting used to.

Marinette scowled at where he had last been.

Maybe she should have expected this, maybe if she had been less out of it she would have. They had given her pajamas when she’d had clothes and insisted on cleaning her old ones ‘for chloroform’. The checkup might have been a genuine checkup on her state, but it probably wouldn’t have mattered what the results were. She was always going to end up staying the night in the cold, dingy cave filled with bats.

She sighed and laid back against the stone floors. She heard Red Robin groan and looked up to see he had been locked out of the Batcomputer for the night. He leaned back in his chair and mumbled curses.

She giggled at his distress and, despite himself, a tiny grin poked at his lips.

“Want to race to see who can hack into it first?” She suggested.

He raised an eyebrow at her under his domino. “Think you can win?”

“Considering I don’t know that much about hacking, I’m going to say probably not.”

A wide smile spread across his face, now, and he waved her over. She took a seat on the desk beside the keyboard and he started teaching her everything.

Most of what he said, while technically heard, wasn’t exactly understood. She couldn’t concentrate. It was the first time she had seen him in anything but his vigilante suit and she decided that that was a crime because he looked so cute in the Batman-themed pajamas. Furthermore, the way his long hair was pushed back by a headband to keep it out of the green paste spread over his face to alleviate the chloroform’s rash reminded her of a spa day in all those movies.

And then there was the smile. It made her heart flutter in her chest because she was so used to his grins but this was just a genuine smile. He looked so passionate about the intricacies of cyber crime. She was almost sad about the domino hiding his eyes because she wanted to see the way they lit up while he explained different ways viruses could be accidentally downloaded to devices.

Basically, she was a mess for this random cute guy she worked with. She had never seen him so casual and at ease and it felt far more intimate than it maybe should.

She rested her head on her hand, nodding along as he talked about data encryption versus decoding.

Well, maybe a forced sleepover in the Batcave wouldn’t be so bad...

~

Tim was suffering a lot more than he would ever admit, and only a small part of it was due to chloroform.

He was going to be having a sleepover with one of his idols and he was going to be spending a large amount of the time trying not to throw up. And she could totally tell, too, why else would she be watching him so intensely? Someone kill him, please. He was so glad he had a secret identity because he didn’t know how he would manage if she thought Tim Drake-Wayne was a loser.

Granted, she was going to think Red Robin was a loser... but at least he had a second chance as Tim.

He rested his chin on the back of his chair. He had hacked into the Batcomputer already but it was a relatively dull night out on patrols and he wasn’t eager to be yelled at for showing Marinette some files on top of already hacking into them when he wasn’t supposed to.

“Wanna do something?”

She grinned. “Is there anything to do here other than train?”

“... nothing approved.”

She tipped her head to the side. “And of the things that aren’t approved?”

He matched her grin. “Well…”

And that was how he ended up setting up a movie projector in the cave so they could watch Groundhog Day. Marinette had taken to making them a pillow fort.

Duke stumbled down the steps, half awake, and raised his eyebrows at them from behind his domino. He poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot that they had made and took a long sip before sending the two of them a wary look. “Do I want to know?”

Marinette didn’t look up from her and Tikki’s base construction. “Dunno. Do you want to watch Groundhog Day with us?”

He frowned. “Isn’t that the one where that guy in a time loop stalks his co-worker until he knows enough to make her fall in love with him?”

“Just say you don’t like romcoms and go,” Marinette irritably.

“I’m fine with romcoms, it’s just… a little messed up that he uses the knowledge he gets from being in a time loop to ensure she falls for him?”

“It’s a story about self-improvement,” Tim said, sending his brother a glare. “He grows as a person until he is worthy of her love.”

“Him learning about her is part of his arc. He starts off selfish and he ends it with a deeper appreciation for other people,” agreed Marinette.

Duke held his free hand up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. Enjoy your stalker movie.”

“It’s not a --,” Tim tried to argue, but Duke was already heading back upstairs.

He huffed a little and finished setting up the computer and projector, then took a seat in the pillow fort. She poured each of them a cup of coffee, put a straw in hers to maintain her identity, and then took a seat beside him.

He took it from her with a bright smile and turned on the movie.

She rested her head on his shoulder as the happy-go-lucky music started up.

Unfortunately for them, they didn’t manage to stay awake for all that long. Duke had drugged the coffee pot.

~

Marinette shifted awake a while later and promptly decided that being awake sucked.

Nothing about her current situation sucked, of course. At some point during the night they had fallen asleep and now she was laying half on top of Red Robin, clinging to him like a koala. He didn’t seem all that upset about it, though, with his arm wrapped around her and his face buried in her hair.

Unfortunately, the time on the bottom right of the Batcomputer’s screen told her she didn’t have much time to enjoy it.

She started the slow process of extracting herself from him. Getting the arm off of herself was easy, getting his face away from her head was much harder (this wasn’t helped by the fact that the paste on his face had stuck to her hair).

There was one scare where she thought he was going to wake up. She pushed herself off of his chest and he took a long breath in. Marinette froze, watching his lips tighten… and then he turned over in his sleep.

Oops, apparently she’d been suffocating him a little in her sleep. Sorry, Red.

Well, at least she was free now.

She slipped out of the pillow fort and glanced at the time again.

Even less time to do what she needed. Because that’s how time works.

She sighed and called Tikki over with a tiny wave of her hand, walking over the edge of the railing. She looked down at the abyss that stretched many feet below.

Tikki couldn’t have looked more disapproving if she tried.

“It’s just a little insurance,” Marinette signed.

This didn’t make Tikki any less upset with her, but she hadn’t really expected it to. She signed for her transformation. She tied herself to the railing with her yoyo as a precaution and then hooked her legs around the railing.

And down she went.

She flexed at an awkward angle, flashlight in her mouth, and stuck a tracker to the bottom of the platform.

And, really, she wasn’t intending on using it. Like she said, it was just insurance. They had drawn blood from her earlier and she knew for a fact that it wasn’t necessary for chloroform inhalation. The only reason that made sense for that was that they wanted to check and see if she had inhaled some but they already knew that so… what did they want with her blood?

She was willing to bet it had something to do with her secret identity. And, hey, she didn’t particularly care if they knew her identity, she trusted them, but if it ever got out because of them revealing then who the bats were would be 1) revenge and 2) a good distraction.

“Hey --?”

Thank the kwamis she had tied herself to the railing because she’d been surprised enough to let go of the platform.

“Shit, sorry!” Said Red Robin.

She pulled herself back up onto the platform with his help and then collapsed on the cool stone. She spat the flashlight from her mouth. “Fuuuuuuck, don’t do that again, please.”

“Sorry,” he said again. Then he glanced back at where she had been and, momentarily, his lips pulled into a frown. “I gotta ask: what were you doing?”

“Hm?”

Shitshitshit.

“Oh, I wanted to see if there was anything down there or if it was just for The Aesthetic.”

“Why not just use your yoyo to go down?”

She shuddered. “The flashlight barely did anything. Would you want to go down into that darkness with no clue even how far down it goes?”

He seemed to accept the answer. “It’s an old iron mine. No one uses it anymore, though.”

She nodded her understanding.

She pushed herself back up to a sitting position and looked at him.

“The bats don’t get back for a while and we’re still on lockdown, so… want to do something?”

~

Damian was the first one to get home. Apparently he had broken a leg on patrol. This was fine (well, maybe he shouldn’t have been driving himself, but whatever).

What was not fine was that he had promptly decided to be an asshole.

Tim and Marinette had been playing Minecraft on the Batcomputer and, like all younger brothers, Damian asked to play.

And, like all older brothers, Tim barely looked up from his controller to tell him: “No.”

Damian looked to be on the verge of a meltdown.

Marinette sighed and sent Tim a tired look. “Red, don’t be mean. He’s just a kid. There’s more controllers, we can just give him one.”

“But…” He started. Damian was a terrible partner to play Minecraft with because he never helped out with anything except for the farm.

However, Marinette was looking at him expectantly. Tim bit his lip, considering.

Damian looked between the two of them and a wicked grin spread across his face and oh no.

Damian took a seat next to Marinette and gave her puppy-dog eyes (a real feat, considering the fact that he was wearing a domino and therefore his eyes were invisible). “Miss Ladybug, can’t you please make him let me play?”

Marinette gave Tim a tired look. “Red, c’mon, just for a bit.”

Damian smirked a little but, by the time Marinette turned back around, he had schooled his face back into a pout.

She handed him her controller. “You can have mine. I’ll find another for myself.”

The two watched her leave and Tim sent his younger brother a glare. “I can’t believe you would embarrass yourself this much just to play a game.”

“Anything to annoy you, ‘big bro’.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but then Marinette came back and all he could do was send him a glare behind her back.

Damian retaliated by sitting himself on Marinette’s lap. She looked down, amusement making her eyes crinkle, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge it. Damian smirked and stuck his tongue out at Tim.

That little shit.

And it continued on for hours while the three of them waited for the rest of the bats to come back. Damian would cling to Marinette in some way and he would become the bad guy for glaring at a child. He was seriously considering breaking the No Killing Rule for this kid.

Finally, though, people started coming back and apparently Damian thought it too embarrassing to do such a thing in front of more than just the person he was trying to annoy because he clambered off her lap to play just a little bit away.

Bruce was the last one to come in and he looked at his kids with the patented Batdad Glare because they had managed to drag Steph into playing with them (without much effort) and Cass into watching (with much more effort). Which meant that there were currently five family disappointments. Yay them.

Tim smiled innocently. “What? We got bored. Maybe you should let us out so this doesn’t happen again.”

“I’m keeping you here for your own safety.”

Marinette and Tim both groaned.

“I have work to do.”

“Me, too.”

Bruce didn’t relent because he was a stubborn asshole.

But that was fine. They really hadn’t expected them to. Tim glanced at Marinette and she twirled her index finger against her flat palm, the sign for ‘start’.

One flash and smoke bomb later, the two of them were running as fast as they could to his bike. He grinned as he helped his giggling friend get on and hopped up himself. Arms wrapped around him tightly and her face buried in his back. They tore out of the cave, giggling all the while.

[aurathian]

Life in a Dead World

My submission for @zelinkweek2021 day 5, prompt Domesticity: Family.

read it here on AO3!

When she gazes at the castle for the first time in one hundred years, when she takes her first good look at it in forever, she sees nothing but despair. Loss. She sees nothing but memories she once held dear, long dead and buried under the rubble. She sees nothing.

He is her guiding hand through this new, foreign world in which she is blind. The way he takes her hand ever so gently and leads her across the stepping stones of the future is comforting, but her steps are uneasy still.

“Zel,” someone calls. “Wake up.” A gentle shake rumbles her shoulder and she turns over to face the voice.

“I’m up,” she manages to say, though hoarsely, and wrenches her eyes open to meet Link’s face. He swipes a finger across her forehead, brushing back stray strands of her sunshine hair. Taking his time studying her face, his blue eyes dart around before settling on her lips. He places a chaste kiss upon them.

Most mornings spent in their house in Hateno Village were like this. She’d be woken up by him saying her name softly, like it’s a prayer, and he’d kiss her before rolling out of bed. He’d make them breakfast, something simple like eggs and rice, and then he would head out to the fields for work. She’d stay curled up inside, reading books on their bed and tinkering with whatever ancient scraps Link found on his adventures.

Zelda doesn’t really like the mornings. The sun rises and casts its bright rays on everything ugly in the world and the daytime forces her to face it. She remembers her last sunrise before the Calamity, though the memory is blurry and faded now. It was a quiet morning when she was sent on her way to the Spring of Wisdom to offer her final prayer to the Goddess Hylia, full of apprehension and fear—fears she fulfilled.

On this day, however, he makes pancakes topped with berries he had picked after work the day before. He serves her orange juice in one of the fancy glasses they reserve for company—though they never get visitors anyway—and sets the table nice, with placemats and flowers in the center.

“What’s the occasion?” she asks, finally lured downstairs by the sweet smells and clattering utensils. Sliding into the chair across from him, she takes up her fork and digs in.

“Nothing special,” he replies nonchalantly with a raise of his brows, but she can feel his gaze on her as he takes a sip of his own juice. Zelda is able to indulge in a few more bites of soft, buttery pancake before he speaks again.

“Will you come into town with me today?” he requests, his hand drifting across the table to gingerly grasp hers.

“That’s what the occasion is, then,” she mumbles bitterly. Her appetite is lost and she sets the fork down. “You know I can’t.”

The few times she stepped foot into Hateno Village, the few times she saw the faces of the men and women and children walking through town and living, she turned around and went back to their house on the edge of the village. Link would follow suit some time later and find her gripping the photo of them and the Champions, staining its glass cover with tears.

The village is bright and lively. He tries to make her see the good, but she is blinded by memories.

“Why not?” he prods, taking a step into where he’d never dared to go before, opening the door to her heart just a little more.

“You know why.” Her voice is shaky now. “When I look at them—when I see their faces, they… they remind me of the people I killed all those years ago.”

“You didn’t kill anyone.” His tone is the opposite of hers; certain and sure, and his foot is planted steady in the doorway now. Though his memories are few, they are vivid with color and life and they feel real each time he relives them, whether in his dreams or by traveling to the places he uncovered them in the first place.

“Killing isn’t just about who you strike with your blade, Link,” she scolds. “It’s about what you fail to do that causes their deaths.” Her hands rest now in her lap, leaving his empty and open atop the table. “In my case, I failed to awaken my power in time.”

“But they’re not the people you killed.”

“They look like ordinary citizens. People, innocent people, going about their lives. The very people affected by my incompetence.”

“But—”

“There is no reason for me to go into the village anyway.”

Link sits back in his chair. “Why?” he breathes. The door is closing and he’s fighting to keep it open now.

“Hyrule is dead,” Zelda says plainly. “It died long ago, with all those people. When I looked upon the castle, when we were traveling back here through ruin after ruin, I saw no life.”

“There’s life right outside our house,” he counters.

“We have experienced two different kingdoms, Link.” She stands from her chair and wanders to the stairs, fingers lingering over the banister. “You do not remember my Hyrule. In comparison, this land is dead.” The conversation is over. She walks up the stairs without a word and he can hear her shuffle into bed. Then, it’s silent.

—

He tries again the next morning. This time, he coaxes her outside with the promise of a morning spent picking the flowers growing in their yard. It’s peaceful and they can’t hear the sounds of Hateno Village from their quaint house across the bridge, and he watches her face as she plucks the white flowers from the ground. Her eyes are lidded and mouth curved into a small smile.

He wishes he could show those grass green eyes the beauty of the Hyrule he knows, from its snowy mountaintops to its humid jungles; wishes she could meet the people who helped him along his journey, the people he considers Champions of this new age.

When he’s accrued plenty of flowers in his basket, he calls out to her, “Hey Zel, come here!”

She crawls over, bringing her own basket alongside her. “What?”

“What do you want to do with all these flowers?”

She hums, then says, “I don’t know.” Pulling one out of her basket, she twirls it around by the stem.

“I was thinking we could go into the village and give them to the children,” he offers, standing up and holding out his hand.

“Is that what this was all about?”

“Well…”

She scowls, taking her basket and marching toward the house. He winces as the front door slams shut behind her.

Link, however, is persistent, and if he has anything, it’s the audacity. Every day he tries something new to get her to go into the village with him—getting water from the river, buying a new dress, even visiting Purah at the lab—but each attempt is turned down by her.

“I can do my own research right here from my bed,” she argues when he suggests visiting Purah. Never in his lifetime did he think he would witness Princess Zelda of Hyrule, ancient Sheikah tech extraordinaire and science nerd, turn down an opportunity to go study at a laboratory.

Then, one day, something strange happens. He leaves the house to go work in the fields like usual, bringing along a pitchfork and his lunch. He lets Zelda stay in the house to eat her breakfast and read her books. As he’s walking down the trail from his house, over the bridge and into the new developments that continue to creep ever closer to them, a hand grabs his sleeve.

“Zelda?” he asks when he sees her. “But I thought…”

“I don’t appreciate how often you tried to trick me,” she interjects, “but I did some thinking, and I want to try.”

He’s looking at her like she’s crazy, one eyebrow up and his mouth popped open.

“Please?” she begs.

Taking her hand into his, he nods, and together they walk into the village.

—

Zelda finds a comfortable spot on the edge of the well, legs dangling off the side and face shielded from the bright sun. She sits there, watching the children of the village run around and play, swinging at each other with sticks and throwing pebbles, while Link is off working in one of the farm fields. There are women behind the well gossiping a little loudly for her liking, but after a few hours she manages to tune them out.

One of the children approaches her grinning, missing teeth and all. Zelda’s world stops for a moment, forced to recall the faces of the children she aided in killing. She remembers running through Kakariko Village, drenched and dirty, and seeing the agonizing faces of the village youth while she desperately searched for Impa. She remembers the bodies—Goddesses, the bodies—both young and old, strewn across the cobblestone streets of Castle Town. Of all the memories she can visualize the best, it has to be that one.

“Hello, miss,” the child greets with a slight lisp.

Her world unpauses and she swallows hard, forcing herself to look into the child’s eyes. “Hello,” she replies.

“What’s your name? I’ve never seen you before.” There’s a booger under the child’s nose and a leaf in his hair.

“My name is Zelda.”

She’s staring at this child she’s never met before, with his big round eyes and missing teeth, and she pays special attention to the sound of his breath and the rise and fall of his chest. This child is alive, she knows, yet she can’t help but think of all the children whose blood stains her hands.

“Woah!” His eyes widen and his mouth drops open in shock. “Like the princess?”

“I suppose,” she sighs. In reality, she hates the title. It stings like a thorn even when it’s just an echo inside her head. Hearing the word forces her to recall the countless tales and rumors spread about her through the castle halls one hundred years ago, of her failures and incompetence.

“My mom has told me all sorts of stories about the princess! Like how pretty and nice she was.” Scowling, he crosses his arms. “Though my mom wasn’t alive then, so I don’t know how she knows that.”

“What are some other stories she’s told you?” Zelda raises a brow and leans in curiously. Does her memory survive on a different breath in this new Hyrule? For all intents and purposes, she doesn’t recognize herself from one hundred years ago as truly her. When people speak of the princess, they speak of a woman long dead.

“I don’t remember all of them, but she’s behind the well you’re sitting on. You could ask her.”

She glances back and winces. “Um, I think I’d rather have you tell me.” Zelda hops off the edge of the well and kneels down in front of the child. “What’s your name?”

“My name is Nebb,” he says. “Say, I don’t remember much about the princess, but I can tell you about this one guy I know.”

“Sure,” she replies, sitting on the ground next to Nebb.

“There was this traveler who came by our village a lot,” he begins, “and I asked him to show me a ton of weapons! I don’t know how he was able to find all of them, though. I think he lives in the old house outside of town.”

Zelda hums, resting her head in her hands. She thinks of Link, of the various weapons on display in their house, and there’s no doubt in her mind that she knows exactly who Nebb is talking about.

“I might know him,” she says.

“Really?” Nebb shouts. “He’s so cool, isn’t he? I’ve seen him totally demolish the Bokoblins that come too close to the village before.”

“He’s very cool,” she agrees, trailing off as a little girl approaches them. “And who is this?”

“I’m Narah!” says the little girl. “This is my brother.” She gestures to Nebb and he groans before running away to go play.

“Well, Narah, I’m Zelda.”

“I like to talk,” Narah states. “Ask me some questions!”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. You’re the one asking them.”

Zelda can’t help but laugh. It’s a bright and healthy laugh, one that enraptures Link as he approaches her, sweaty from a day in the field.

“Someone’s enjoying herself,” he chuckles, helping Zelda stand from the ground. Narah gets bored with the attention no longer on her and chases after her brother.

“The children are very sweet,” Zelda admits. “Apparently people share stories about me.”

“They do,” he says. “They’re nothing like the stories you heard all those years ago.”

“What do you mean?”

Her steps as they walk back to the house are more confident, and her grip on his hand is sure.

“I know how people talked about you back then, Zelda. I figured it out through my memories.” He pushes the door open for her, setting his pitchfork against the outside wall before stepping inside. “But these people… they look up to you. You’re a beacon of light to them.”

“But I didn’t do the one thing I was supposed to,” she argues. “They don’t look up to me. They look up to the princess of a century ago.”

“They know you as that princess—that princess who valiantly sacrificed herself to the Calamity to prevent it from reaching their homes. You are what kept Hyrule alive all this time.”

“I’m not a princess anymore,” she mumbles, climbing up the stairs. “It’s just Zelda now. Besides, they don’t even know I’m her. We are two different people now, Link.”

He says nothing, only steps up to the kitchen counter and rummages through the cupboard.

“What do you want for dinner?”

—

She ventures into Hateno Village with him every day now, sitting at her usual spot along the edge of the well and talking to the village children. They are healing, she finds, with their wide smiles and innocent, naive eyes. After some days, she starts playing with them, chasing them around the village and tossing balls back and forth.

She would give anything to go back in time and have the childhoods they have. To frolic in the outdoors, to have both parents, to play and wish and dream and be a child. If Zelda wasn’t so wary of the statues of the Goddess Hylia, she would pray at them once more, pray for a real childhood.

One day, she finally talks to the mothers behind the well. Or, rather, they talk to her.

“Miss,” one of them prods, “why do you come watch our children everyday?”

“Oh, um.” Zelda fiddles with her fingers. “They’re very sweet.”

The women exchange strange glances. “You’re not trying to snatch up my little boy, are you?”

“No! Of course not, no,” Zelda hastily replies. “Nebb introduced himself to me. I enjoy playing with the children.”

The women still aren’t satisfied, and she can tell, so she asks, “What’s it like to be a mother?”

“Oh, it’s something, alright,” the woman with her brown hair tied up groans. “Every day is a struggle. Wake up, get ready, yes, you do have to finish all your veggies!”

Zelda smiles a little but wonders if it is really so much of a struggle to gossip behind the well every day.

“But there are times where I relish it,” the other one pipes up. “My children gave me a purpose when I had none.” A dreamy look casts itself upon her eyes. “They are my pride and joy, as difficult as they can be. My guiding lights, so to speak.”

And something clicks inside Zelda’s mind.

Link picks her up again at the well, sweaty and hot and tired as he normally is after a long day of moving hay and harvesting crops, and as they walk over the bridge to their house she stops him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. He looks over to her, frowning with concern.

“Link, I want a child,” she states, and his jaw drops.

Normally, he would try to keep her out of bed for as long as possible. That night, however, he wastes no time in helping her into it.

And so their life continues on exactly like that—days spent working or playing with the village children, rubbing her belly in the hopes she may have one too, nights spent panting in bed, kissing, hot and sweaty and intimate. They’re not strangers to making love, but they are new to doing so with a purpose.

Zelda is suspicious when she misses her period, but what solidifies her hypothesis is when she wakes up one morning with a sick feeling in her stomach before leaping out of bed and rushing outside to dispose of last night’s dinner all over the grass. Link awakens only moments later, finding her outside hunched over and gripping one of the house’s posts. He holds her hair back while she retches some more.

“Zelda…?”

She can only look back at him and smile, nearly laughing with joy, before jumping up to hug him.

“I still don’t get it,” he says while she peppers kisses all over his face.

“Link, I missed my period a while ago,” she explains, finding her footing on the grass. “And feeling sick in the morning, throwing up… do you not know what it means?”

His face contorts in thought, eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched. His blue eyes drift off to something in the distance as he racks his brain for a possible conclusion.

Zelda whispers into the ear of her lover, “I’m pregnant.”

She can’t see his face light up because he hugs her so tight she’s struggling to breathe, but she lets it happen. Her wish, her one prayer she had ever bothered to offer to the Goddess after the defeat of the Calamity, comes true.

—

The nine months go by like a breeze, her bump growing week by week, having to stay home and rest more often because of it, but she’s happy. She spends her evenings in the rocking chair Link constructed for her, singing to her belly as she rubs it with her soft hands. Her cravings get weirder, too. One week, she’s asking for delicious fruitcake, and the next, she’s asking for soup but instead of meat, it’s monster parts.

Still, Link obliges, going out and picking (or slaying) whatever he needs to to satisfy her. Eventually, the doctor they visit in the village has to start coming to them when it becomes too backbreaking for Zelda to walk, and by some will of the Goddess, the doctor is present when she goes into labor on a rainy autumn morning.

Even as she’s pushing and screaming and grunting, Zelda thinks Hylia must be apologizing, because according to the doctor, it was one of the easiest deliveries he’s ever assisted with. He hands Zelda her baby, wailing and wriggling, small and pale, with a head of soft, thin hair, colored like Link’s. The doctor leaves them alone, lingering downstairs in case anything else needs to be done.

Link kneels by the bedside, watching as Zelda coos at the baby and pokes at her tiny hands. “What will we name her?” she asks him.

“Do you have any ideas?”

She hums, but her eyes never leave the baby. “I would like to name her Impa,” she says.

“I think that’s a great name.” His voice is a whisper now, quiet and hushed as he marvels at the sight of Zelda and their child, and for the first time in a long while, his beloved’s green eyes shine once more.

She smiles down at her baby, because even in a Hyrule she thought long dead, new life still prospers.

[dekuskacchan]

the brightest light is you

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28681833

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, tooth rotting fluff

A/N: Hi friends!! This fic is a secret santa gift for my love @lonely-rabbit (you should totally follow her) and our lovely fambly. The prompts were “First Christmas,” and “Proposals.” I hope you like it! <3

--------------------------------

December 10th

----------------------------------

Katsuki saw the sign to the pet store before Izuku did, and immediately knew he was in trouble. Why is there a pet store inside a fucking strip mall?

“Kacchan, look!” Izuku pointed at a baby, chocolate colored bunny, sleeping in an enclosure on display in the front window.

“Absolutely not.”

“But look how cute she is!” Izuku pouted.

“Deku, we already have a cat.”

“Yeah, so she’d have a friend!”

“No, she’d get fucking eaten.”

“Chip would never, she’s too polite.”

“She’s a fucking demon!” Katsuki snapped.

“Pleeeease, Kacchan? She needs a home, and it’s just in time for Christmas,” Izuku wrapped his arms around Katsuki’s middle, staring up at him.

Katsuki averted his gaze and gritted his teeth, knowing he couldn't resist Izuku's pleading eyes.

“No. Don’t give me that fucking look.”

To Katsuki’s surprise, Izuku just laughed and released his hold on him.

“Fine, fine, you’re right,” Izuku sighed dramatically, “let’s go before I get too attached. I’m hungry, anyway.”

Katsuki watched as he walked away, considering for a moment.

“God fucking dammit,” Katsuki muttered, pulling out his phone to snap a picture before Izuku noticed.

----------------------------------

December 18th

----------------------------------

“Look at these, Kacchan!” Katsuki looked up from an outrageously priced scarf to see Izuku holding the most hideous sweaters he had ever seen. They were bright red, each decorated with a matching design that, when held together, formed a Christmas tree that was adorned with real tinsel, glitter, and colored pom-pom ornaments.

“Fuck no,” Katsuki spat, and Izuku burst into laughter.

“Why not? They’re perfect,”

“No way in hell you’re getting me to wear that shit,” Katsuki snapped.

“I can think of a few ways,” Izuku winked. Katsuki sputtered, pink dusting his cheeks.

“C’mon, Kacchan, it’s Christmas! We have to get ugly sweaters.”

It was their first Christmas together since buying their new house, and Izuku had insisted on decorating accordingly. Apparently that also included embarrassing the hell out of Katsuki.

“I don’t have to do shit.”

“Please?” Izuku pouted his lip.

Katsuki pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned.

“Fine,” he growled, while Izuku cheered and tossed the sweaters into the shopping cart.

“Oh, we could get matching Santa h-”

“Don’t even fucking think about it, Deku,” Katsuki pushed the cart forward, swiftly exiting the clothing section of the store as Izuku giggled behind him.

----------------------------------

It had been at least 30 minutes since Katsuki had seen Izuku. Where the fuck had he gone? This shop was too small to get lost in. He had checked all the aisles twice, but Izuku was nowhere to be found.

“Goddammit, every time,” Katsuki muttered, pulling out his phone to call again.

“Oh, Kacchan! There you are!” Katsuki jumped as a mop of green curls popped up from behind a giant red bin. How had he missed that?

“Jesus, Deku! You scared the shit out of me. How long have you fucking been there?,” Katsuki grumbled.

“Way too long. I’m trying to pick out lights, come help me,”

Katsuki sighed as he approached and took in the sight before him.

Izuku was muttering incomprehensibly to himself as he knelt amongst a messy pile of packages, each containing string lights of different sizes, shapes and colors.

“Those white ones in the big box,” Katsuki pointed, interrupting Izuku’s train of thought, “they’ll match the walls and the trim on the house."

Izuku looked up at Katsuki and beamed.

“You’re so smart.”

“Damn right,” Katsuki grinned, “and we’re getting a shit ton. We’re gonna have the best fucking house in the neighborhood," he pulled five boxes of lights from the bin, tossing them into the cart.

“Okay, Kacchan,” Izuku laughed as he cleaned up his mess.

----------------------------------

Their shopping cart was practically overflowing with decorations now, but Izuku didn’t seem to notice, excitedly pulling Katsuki all over the store.

“We already have three of these, nerd,” Katsuki watched as Izuku pondered over a vast selection of snowglobes.

“Yes, but not little ones! We could put these all over the house,” Izuku turned to face Katsuki, holding up a miniature globe with Dynamight’s signature gauntlets inside. Katsuki sighed and draped an arm around Izuku’s shoulder, knowing his mind was already made up.

“Could give this one to your mom,” Katsuki pointed to one that was large, green and orange, with “Wonder Duo” engraved on the front. Inside were little statues of Dynamight and Deku, posed dramatically in battle.

“She likes-,” Katsuki paused, abruptly letting go of Izuku and all but sprinting away, disappearing behind a shelving unit.

“Kacchan what’s-,” Izuku called, startled. He gasped when Katsuki returned with a box three times his size.

It was a giant, twelve foot tall statue of a Yeti wielding a staff. Katsuki poked his head around the side, grinning wickedly in delight.

“Kacchan, where would we even put that?” Izuku stared in disbelief.

“We’ll make room,” Katsuki grunted.

“Make room where?”

“We can put it next to the fireplace.”

“Kacchan, that’s where the stairs are.”

“Fuck the stairs.”

“That thing is taller than our ceiling,” Izuku stifled a laugh as Katsuki struggled to balance the weight of the box.

“Then we’ll put it outside,” Katsuki huffed in frustration.

“I don’t think our neighbors would like that, it’s scary.”

“Fuck the neighbors, this is badass.”

Izuku was laughing in earnest now, tears coming into his eyes.

“I can’t get a bunny, but you can get a giant monster?”

“This is way cooler than a fucking bunny.”

“I’m blaming you if we get in trouble with the landlord.”

----------------------------------

December 20th

----------------------------------

“That’s not food, Chip!” Izuku cried. “Let go!”

Katsuki snickered, slicing vegetables to add to a pot of bubbling curry while Izuku struggled to protect the tree from their cat.

“Shit!”

A resounding thud came from the living room, and Katsuki sighed as he dumped the ingredients into the pot.

“I need help here!” Izuku called desperately as Katsuki entered the room.

Izuku was on the floor, becoming increasingly tangled in ropes of tinsel as Chip rolled in it like she’d struck gold.

“I give up Kacchan, she won’t let- stop laughing! Can you grab her please? She keeps nibbling me” Izuku scowled.

Struggling not to choke on laughter, Katsuki whistled, quickly catching Chip’s attention.

“C’mere, you little shit, I’ve got something that tastes better than Deku,” Katsuki kneeled, dangling a piece of chicken in front of him. The tabby sprinted to him and happily devoured her prize.

“Dumb fucking cat,” he muttered under his breath.

“She likes you more than me,” Izuku chuckled, untangling himself from his tinsel prison to finish wrapping it around the tree.

“Course she does. She only likes the best,” Katsuki grinned, scratching Chip's chin as she purred and rubbed against his knee.

“There,” Izuku stood back to admire his handiwork, “I think it just needs the star now.”

“Can you even reach, shortstack?” Katsuki teased, watching Izuku struggle on his tiptoes.

“Of-” Izuku grunted,” of course I can.”

Wordlessly, Katsuki wrapped his arms around Izuku’s middle, lifting him up with ease to place the silver star atop the tree.

“It looks good, right?” Izuku grinned as Katsuki lowered him back down, still hugging him from behind.

“Yeah. Nice work, nerd,”

“Thanks, Kacchan.”

“Hm.”

“Christmas is gonna be great,” Izuku whispered.

“Be more fun if we just stayed home,” Katsuki grumbled into Izuku’s neck.

“That could be fun,” Izuku laughed, turning in Katsuki’s arm to hug him properly, “but it’ll be good to see our parents. It’s been over a month.”

“Tch. I guess,”

“Thanks for making dinner, Kacchan,” Izuku squeezed him tight and tilted his head up for a kiss.

“It’s gonna fucking burn if you don’t let go of me,” Katsuki murmured against his lips, but kissed him back.

“Hmm. That’s fine,”

Katsuki snorted.

“Hey, I think the demon spawn is ready for round two,” he nodded at the sneaky cat, who was quietly approaching the tree again.

“Dammit,” Izuku whipped around, tearing out of Katsuki’s arms, “Chip, stay out of there!”

----------------------------------

December 25th

----------------------------------

Katsuki woke to soft lips on his forehead

“Good morning, Kacchan,” Izuku whispered in his ear.

“ ‘S too fuckin early, Deku,” Katsuki groaned, eyes still closed.

“It’s almost 10.”

“I said what I said.”

Izuku yelped in surprise as Katsuki grabbed his waist and unceremoniously tugged him down onto the bed.

“Kacchan, it’s Christmas,” Izuku laughed, snuggling into his side, despite himself, “we’re supposed to be at your parents house in three hours.”

“Mmm, fuck’m,” Katsuki grumbled.

“I have coffee brewing,”

Katsuki’s ears perked up, the scent suddenly filling his nose. Sighing, he stretched his free arm above his head and cracked his eyes open to see Izuku smiling at him, wearing that atrocious sweater he’d picked out. Katsuki tucked a stray curl behind his ear.

Too cute for his own damn good.

“Come on, Kacchan, I made breakfast too,” Izuku pulled Katsuki by the arm as he sat up.

“You made breakfast?” Katsuki was dubious as he slid his glasses up his nose.

“Yep. My specialty,”

“Canned cinnamon rolls?”

“Canned cinnamon rolls.”

“....fuck yeah.”

Katsuki had long since accepted his role as the chef in their relationship, because Izuku couldn’t cook to save his fucking life, but canned pastries were a guilty pleasure he knew he’d never shake.

----------------------------------

It was a peaceful morning. The sun peeked through the curtains, bathing the room in warm, golden hues as they sat by the fire, Chip asleep on the couch between them.

“Hey, nerd, go open your present,” Katsuki nudged Izuku, who had begun to doze on his shoulder.

“Hm?” Izuku yawned, stretching his arms, “oh, okay!"

“It’s that red one,” Katsuki pointed to the largest package under the tree. Izuku eyed him curiously before crawling to open the gift, excitedly ripping through the paper and tape to reveal...

Another box, wrapped in different paper.

Izuku raised both eyebrows at him in confusion and Katsuki grinned.

“What, you don’t like it?” he mocked offense, as Izuku narrowed his eyes, “I’m just fucking with you. Keep going.”

Katsuki chuckled and quietly slipped out of the room while Izuku’s attention was occupied.

“Kacchan, this is so unnecessary,” Izuku groaned, as he pulled out yet a third box.

“Maybe I’ll just take it back, then,” Katsuki declared loudly as he re-entered the room, startling an oblivious Izuku.

“Kacchan, when did-” Izuku gasped. Katsuki was leaning against the wall with a smirk, holding a familiar small, chocolate brown bunny in his arms.

“I had Shitty Hair get her after we left the mall,”

“She’s been here for two weeks?!” Izuku cried in disbelief.

“You think I took care of her on my own? Fuck no,” Katsuki grumbled, meeting Izuku halfway and carefully passing him the rabbit, “had your mom keep her. Picked her up last night while you were asleep.”

“I love her,” Izuku smiled, burying his face in Katsuki's chest, “thank you, Kacchan."

Katsuki sighed, wrapping his arms around him and kissing his hair.

“I just knew you’d never shut the fuck up about it."

“Did you introduce her to Chip yet?”

“Yeah. She couldn’t fucking care less.”

Izuku laughed, kissing the bunny's soft head.

“I told you they’d be friends,”

“Yeah. Friends," Katsuki rolled his eyes, "go sit, there's one more,"

Izuku smirked as he watched Katsuki stumble over the ruins of his prank to retrieve the gift.

“There’d better not be another box in there, Kacchan,” Izuku warned, warily taking the package.

“Just open it, dumbass,” Katsuki barked a laugh and joined him on the couch.

Izuku pulled the lid off the long box and stared. Inside was a tall, holographic photo frame filled with drawings Izuku and Katsuki made as children. When tilted to the side, the images changed to reveal photographs of the pair as Pro Heroes.

“Kacchan, you- you kept these?”

Katsuki shrugged.

“They were too badass to throw away,”

“Kacchan-” tears welled up in Izuku’s eyes again, “it’s perfect. You big softie.”

“Tch. I’m not the one crying,” Katsuki wiped the tears as they rolled down his cheeks.

Izuku laughed again.

“But you know I’m right. My turn now?”

Izuku didn't wait for his response, clambering over the sea of boxes for the present without putting his furry new friend down.

“Here!”

It was surprisingly heavy, and topped with a comically large bow.

“Shit, Deku, you put bricks in here?”

“Just open it, Kacchan,” Izuku watched him with excitement in his eyes.

Katsuki ripped the package open to reveal a thick, leather bound scrapbook, with Dynamight’s signature X on the front. The inside cover read, in handwriting Katsuki immediately recognized as Izuku’s,“The Legacy of Dynamight.”

His eyes widened as he flipped through the book of memories.

There were journal articles of him in action. Newspaper headings; “Pro Hero Dynamight makes his big debut!” and “Pro hero Dynamight saves Musutafu Children’s Hospital!

Then came the letters glued to the parchment paper, comprising the majority of the book. Katsuki’s mouth fell open as he read words, handwritten, that he’d never seen before.

There were letters from citizens that had watched him take down terrifying enemies, praising him for his good deeds. Letters from people he’d saved, grateful for the chance to see their families again.

Letters from sick children he’d visited in the hospital telling him how awesome he was, several thanking him for giving them the encouragement to keep fighting.

And finally, there were multiple pages filled with artwork. Most were children’s doodles of Dynamight in action and Dynamight saving the day, but there were also several beautifully drawn and painted portraits.

The remaining pages were blank, waiting to be filled.

Izuku had written on the inside back cover:

This is a book of memories, of growth, of victory, and salvation.

If you are so fortunate to see this, know you are reading a testament to the strongest person this world has ever known.

The fiercest hero and most loyal partner, who always wins and always saves.

The legacy of Katsuki Bakugou, Pro Hero Dynamight.

At the bottom, Izuku had doodled several explosions and grenades, and Katsuki grinned.

“I sent a letter to the World Hero Association Journals, asking people to send in their thoughts about Pro Hero Dynamight. There were so many! Those kids were full of stories. They think you’re really cool. And we can fill the rest of it with new memories, too," Izuku said softly, smiling at him.

Katsuki tried to speak, but nothing came out. He was speechless as he stared at Izuku.

“I just want you to know how proud of you I am. How proud everyone is. You’re amazing, Kacchan," Izuku was looking at him with those big, knowing eyes, and picked up an envelope Katsuki hadn't noticed at the bottom of the box.

“Open the last one.”

It was a page full of more doodles from when they were kids, and potential hero names they’d created. At the bottom read “Dynamight” in uneven, capital letters.

“We had the same idea,” Izuku laughed.

“Deku, I-” Katsuki stuttered, still unable to find the right words.

“I know.”

Did he know? Could he possibly know how much this fucking meant? How much he meant?

They both startled as Chip dove into the pile of wrapping paper on the ground, ripping it to shreds.

“Oh-wait, come back!” Izuku reached for his bunny as she leapt from his lap to explore the wreckage, but Katsuki grabbed his chin and pulled him back.

“I love you,” Katsuki said firmly, capturing his lips in a searing kiss.

It felt like hours, but Katsuki knew it had only been minutes when Izuku pulled back.

“Kacchan,” he was breathless as Katsuki’s lips trailed down his chin, “I don’t know where she went.”

“She’s fine,”

“But-”

“She’s fine.” Katsuki growled, silencing Izuku’s burst of laughter with another kiss.

----------------------------------

“It’s fuckin’ cold, Deku, let’s just take the car,” Katsuki complained, rubbing his hands together to warm them.

“It’s not that cold, Kacchan. And look how pretty it is!” Izuku insisted.

Thin flecks of snow fell from the sky, disappearing into the fluff that already coated the neighborhood. Water dripped slowly from the tree branches as the snow began to melt in the sunlight. The air smelled of evergreen, crisp and cold enough that they could see their own breath.

“Besides, it’s not that far of a walk. Come on, we’re already running late,” Izuku hauled a bag of gifts over one arm, reaching for Katsuki’s hand with the other.

“Our house is the most badass,” Katsuki grinned, looking up at his prized statue. The giant took up half of their front yard, it's long shadow peering over their roof.

“Kacchan, that thing is an eyesore,” Izuku grimaced.

“Shut up. It’s cool as fuck as you know it."

Izuku laughed and shook his head.

“Do you think they’ll be alright without us?” Izuku worried as they walked, thinking of the animals they’d left at home.

“Who knows. Maybe the demon spawn will have eaten that fluff ball by the time we get home,” Katsuki teased.

“Kacchan! That’s not reassuring,”

“You asked,” Katsuki smirked, interlacing his fingers with Izuku’s, “they’ll be fine. They’re fucking animals. And she’s in her pen.”

----------------------------------

The walk was short, but still longer than Katsuki cared for in the cold.

“Oh, mom’s already here!” Izuku pointed to the small, blue car parked in front of the Bakugou household.

The house was huge, decked top to bottom in red and green lights that matched the trees in the yard.

“Hope the old hag hasn’t eaten her alive yet,” Katsuki mused.

“Kacchan, that’s not very nice,” Izuku playful shoved him, “we’d better not keep them waiting,”

They were greeted at the door by Inko Midoriya’s warm, smiling face.

“Merry Christmas boys!” She squealed, pulling them both in for a tight hug.

“Merry Christmas, mom,” Izuku grinned, wrapping his arms around her. Katsuki hummed, loosely returning the embrace.

It was pleasantly warm inside, and smelled of cinnamon and vanilla.

“Oh, those are so cute!” Inko exclaimed as they discarded their coats, pointing to the abhorrent sweaters Izuku had insisted they wear, much to Katsuki’s chagrin.

Katsuki groaned as Inko poked at the ridiculous pom poms on his chest.

Deku’s lucky he’s so fucking cute.

----------------------------------

Katsuki had just finished bickering with Mitsuki when he overheard Izuku and Inko talking in the next room. He paused, leaning against the wall to listen unnoticed.

“I can’t believe you kept Nibbles a secret!”

Nibbles? Where the fuck did that name come from?

“It wasn’t easy, I was so excited! But I was more than happy to help. She’s very well behaved,”

“She is,” Izuku laughed, “thank you for taking care of her, mom.”

“Of course, dear. Katsuki came to check on us almost every day.”

Katsuki flushed as the pair laughed.

“What did he think of the scrapbook?” Inko asked excitedly.

“He liked it, I think. He was quiet, which is Kacchan for “thank you."

Inko was laughing again.

“I think it was a great idea, honey, it's very thoughtful."

“I’m just...really proud of him, y’know? He’s come so far. I don’t think words are enough,” Izuku was sniffling now, “gah, I'm sorry mom, I don’t mean to be so mushy.”

“Don’t apologize. You get it from me,” Inko chuckled, the emotion clear in her voice too, “did you like your other gift?”

“I love it, it’s so perfect. Did you know about that, too?”

“He asked me if I thought you’d like it. I said yes, of course,” Inko paused, “he really loves you, honey.”

“I know. “

Katsuki flushed deeper, leaning quietly against the wall.

Did he know?

----------------------------------

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Inko cried in appreciation for the snowglobe Katsuki had picked out, and locket they’d customized with a photo of the three of them. Mitsuki and Masaru enjoyed the cheesy as fuck digital photo frame Izuku had insisted on, with less teasing from Mitsuki than Katsuki had expected.

Everyone was delighted to see All Might when he stopped by to visit in the afternoon, but Katsuki barely even noticed him. In the crowded room, all he saw was Izuku.

Izuku, who had saved him so many times, in more than one sense of the word. Izuku, who had rooted for him his whole life, the only person who had never stopped truly believing in him, who had reminded him of his true purpose.

Izuku, who had never expected more of him than he had to give, but encouraged him endlessly to reach new heights.

Izuku, who was currently asleep in his lap, wrapped in his new blanket hoodie.

Izuku.

“Can i sit with you, dear?”

Katsuki was interrupted from his reverie by Inko’s soft voice.

“Sure,” he murmured, scooting over as best he could without waking the sleeping lump.

“Thank you for the gifts, they were very thoughtful.”

“Was Deku’s idea,” Katsuki lied. Inko laughed.

“Sure."

They sat together in a calming silence for a while, watching the flames crackle in the fireplace.

Katsuki was frequently comforted by Inko’s presence. She was a beacon of light, always warm and wise. He thought she was about to speak, but she was interrupted by Izuku’s sudden snores.

“He’s loud even in his fucking sleep,” Katsuki rolled his eyes.

Inko chuckled, running a hand through her son’s hair.

“It adds to his natural charm,”

“Yeah, it’s real charming waking up to the sound of a fog horn in the middle of the night,” Katsuki grumbled, earning another musical laugh.

“You know, I don’t think I ever congratulated you on your new home,” Inko hummed.

“ S’just a house."

“Of course it is,” Inko smiled knowingly and patted his arm, “I’m very proud of you both.”

Katsuki was silent for a moment, before squeezing her hand.

“Thanks,” he whispered.

----------------------------------

It was dark when they finally bid their farewells, and considerably colder outside.

“Drive safe, mom!” Izuku waved as Katsuki helped her into her car and shut the door.

“Let’s cut through the plaza on the way home, Kacchan, I want to see the lights,"

“That’s ten fucking minutes out of the way, Deku,” Katsuki growled.

“It’s our last chance to see before it gets taken down! It’ll be fun,” Izuku pleaded, hugging Katsuki’s arm.

“Tch. You’d better fucking walk fast."

Izuku grinned in victory as they left.

“Today was a nice day. I didn’t expect All Might to actually come by, since he’s so busy. It was good to see him,” Izuku thought aloud.

“Woulda been pissed if he didn’t,” Katsuki grumbled.

“Did you invite him, too?” Izuku looked at him in surprise as he shrugged, “that’s really nice, Kacchan,” he smiled, leaning his head on Katsuki’s shoulder.

“I guess.”

They hadn’t been walking long when the light show came into view. Izuku gasped, releasing Katsuki’s arm as he stared.

Silver and gold arches stretched across the narrow street, wrapped in bright, white lights. The roofs of the buildings were covered in brightly colored stars that illuminated the sparkling snow, and the lamp posts were decorated like candy canes. A large statue of silver bells sat in the green field at the center of the plaza.

Katsuki had to admit, it wasn’t all that unpleasant to look at.

Izuku was fucking loving it. Katsuki watched as he stood under an arch, beaming in delight as he admired the view.

Does he know? Katsuki thought back on the events of the day. Does he really know?

“Kacchan, come look,” Izuku called to him.

Katsuki was still lost in thought as he approached, and Izuku paused, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

“Are you o-,” Izuku startled as Katsuki’s hands came to cradle his face.

There were so many things left unsaid, things he’d wanted to say but didn’t know how. Katsuki had always been better with actions than words, and Izuku had always accepted that. He accepted and loved him as he was without a second fucking thought.

“The strongest person this world has ever known.”

Izuku made him stronger.

“The legacy of Dynamight.”

Staring into eyes that were as soft as the falling snow, Katsuki decided he knew.

“Izuku,” Katsuki murmured, looking him straight in the eyes.

Every moment had led to this.

“Kacchan?” Izuku breathed.

The legacy he cared for most was the one he’d forged with Izuku.

“Marry me.”

Izuku’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Listen, I’m- I’m not good at this sappy shit. I don’t know what to fucking say. But-” Katsuki released he didn’t realize he’d been holding as Izuku’s palm brushed his cheek, “the world is a fucking shitty place. But it’s less shitty with you. And I don’t want anyone else by my side. So marry me,” Katsuki voice softened, “Please."

It wasn’t exactly the most romantic of proposals, and there wasn’t a ring, but Izuku didn’t seem to mind.

“Okay,” he whispered. A breathtaking smile spread across his face that put all the fucking lights in the world to shame.

Katsuki met Izuku halfway, lips colliding in a passionate kiss.

The world could be ending for all Katsuki knew, and he couldn’t fucking care less.

Izuku wrapped his arms around Katsuki’s neck, murmuring I love you against his lips, over and over again as he deepened the kiss, and nothing else mattered. Nothing mattered except for this fucking moment as they melted into each other, ignoring the world around them.

Just as their tongues brushed, Izuku pulled back, resting their foreheads together.

“We should-,” Izuku breathed with swollen lips, “should we go home?”

Reluctantly, Katsuki lifted his head and nodded.

“Yeah.”

----------------------------------

It was past midnight when Katsuki woke. They had fallen asleep on the couch, Izuku curled into his side with Nibbles, with Chip resting at their feet. He watched the shadows from the fireplace dancing on the wall, the room gradually becoming dimmer as the flames died out.

Izuku stirred in his sleep, tilting his head up to look at Katsuki with a blissful smile on his face.

“Merry Christmas, Kacchan.”

Katsuki pulled him closer.

“Merry Christmas, Deku.”

----------------------------------------

A/N: thank you for reading!!!!! this is the first fic i’ve ever posted so im super nervous lmao. 

also: the italic lines are supposed to be Katsuki’s thoughts, I wasn’t sure if that was totally clear lmao

also!! big shoutout to @jekacatrina and @thatpinkbetch who helped me with the idea for kacchan’s present and also for the encouragement!!! (best parents ever)

[dylanhawth]

[ LORENZO ZURZOLO, CISMAN, HE/HIM ] shh ! DYLAN HAWTHORNE, the TWENTY year old SECOND year ANTHROPOLOGY major from HARTFORD, CT is known as a TOURMALINE  around here. HE was invited to join because HE PUBLISHED A COLLECTION OF SHORT STORIES ANONYMOUSLY THAT GARNERED A BIT OF FOLLOWING AND RECENTLY STEPPED FORWARD AS THE AUTHOR, and now, they’re here to stay. HE reminds me of THE NERVOUSNESS OF A FIRST KISS, LEAVING SECRET MESSAGES IN LIBRARY BOOKS, DRIVING AIMLESSLY WITH THE WINDOWS ROLLED DOWN ON A WARM SUMMER NIGHT WHILE THE RADIO HUMS A PLAYLIST CURATED FOR YOU BY YOUR BEST FRIEND.

[ big ass bio ] | [ connections ] | [ pinterest ] | [ playlist ] 

ooc. 

omfg hello. i can’t tell you how excited and happy i am to be here. i was too nervous to apply for the last three months but i decided to stop being a Coward and just try. im SO happy to be here, it’s the highlight of my week tbh lmao. anyway i am mar, she/her, 24, est. i live in nyc and all i do is visit the planetarium and cry. i’m so fucking bad at these so im just gonna LIST things and hope you get the vibe. i am a pisces sun, scorpio moon. i prob have a napoleon complex a little bit lmao. my favorite social media site is goodreads and i get rlly sad when my friends rate books i love poorly dfljskdfs. i can touch my tongue to my nose. i eat a lot of persimmons. i have a favorite rock at my local park that i visit a lot. idk dfskjls. i’m v friendly tho so pls hmu. i send a lot of memes, and love making meme edits for the chars so im rlly sorry in advance if you guys hate that. 

01.      basics.

NAME.   dylan h. hawthorne. ALIASES. dyl, hawth.   AGE.  twenty. HOMETOWN. hartford, ct. GENDER.  cismale. PRONOUNS.   he/him.

 02.      appearance.

EYES.   green. HAIR.   brown. HEIGHT.   6”0 BUILD.   lean. BIRTHMARKS   /   BURNS   /   SCARS.   a birthmark the shape of australia on his left thigh. TATTOOS.   n/a. PIERCINGS.   n/a.

03.      habits.

ALCOHOL   ?  socially. SMOKING   ?  socially. HABITS.  fidgets in chairs. cracks knuckles and back often. nervous laughter. chewing on pencils. talking to his plants. dogearing books. staring off into space and applying chapstick for a prolonged period of time. getting overly competitive about boardgames. stress cleaning. carries a book in his bag always. night owl. incredibly impatient when the internet is slow. creature of habit when it comes to menus, orders the same shit over and over again. LIKES.   feeding the ducks at the local pond. the smell of the earth after a rainstorm. the way music sounds coming from another room. kissing. watering his plants. inside jokes. making wishes in fountains. discussing a recently finished book with someone. making handmade cards for friends on their birthday. fireworks. coming of age films. packages wrapped in twine. jogs. the way friday nights feels when you’re with someone you love. the feeling you get leaving the movie theatre. DISLIKES.   being late. having too many coins on him. coffee with no sugar. when people speak loudly in the library. doing laundry. handshakes with too much squeeze. receiving voicemails. untidiness. golf. charles dickens. lectures with no student input. hot weather. confrontation. being caught in a lie. losing his umbrella. people who cheat during games. rainboots. bad table manners. humidity.

04.      personality.

MYERS-BRIGGS.   infp. ENNEAGRAM. the helper. ZODIAC.   pisces. TEMPERAMENT.   melancholic. ALIGNMENT.   neutral good. ARCHETYPE.   the lover. POSITIVE.   empathetic. sensitive. intelligent. charismatic. easygoing. gentle. loyal. passionate. romantic. humble. supportive. gregarious. playful. diligent. NEGATIVE.   deceitful. gullible. finicky. naive. obsessive. perfectionistic. secretive. timid. possessive. weak-willed. indecisive. cynical. indulgent. summary: basically, dylan is a love starved, people pleasing nervous wreck. big ass nerd who wants to be everyones friend, wants to be liked SO BAD. very charming and charismatic, comes off as fairly confident and comfortable at first. is able to make everyone feel loved and like they’re the most important person in the world, however lacks a backbone. is both romeo and juliet, and just as dumb as both of them too. 

05.      hc’s.

dylan was a football player in high school, believe it or not. he was rather good at it too, which is sort of jarring considering his pacifistic nature. however, he DID land on someone incorrectly at some point during his senior year, and broke their wrist. he quickly abandoned the sport altogether because of how guilty he felt. 

touched on this briefly but dylan really… loves indiana jones lmao. like, it’s quite ironic given his absolutely inability to be a badass, and lack of suaveness. however, he admires indy’s lust for adventure. he also was obsessed with the mummy as a kid. both of these were incredible sources in his very irrational decision to sudden anthropology. however, he does really love and admire anthropology. his favorite ethnography is the spirit catches you and you fall down, which makes him cry like a little bitch every time he even thinks about it. 

he’s the second oldest, but he is also baby. he is SUCH a big momma’s boy. he misses his mom so much. he writes to her often, and of course calls her even more. despite being six-foot tall, he still goes home and rests his head on his mother's lap, falls asleep as she runs her fingers through his hair. he often tries to find native english plants and flowers to press, and mail back to his mother in the form of bookmarks. has nEVER STEPPED ON A CRACK IN HIS LIFE, BABY.

just leaves a shit ton of notes in books in the library. some are riddles, some are poetry, some are commentary on the book, some are doodles. just depends on how he’s feeling for that book. he doesn’t tell anyone he does it, but he’s waiting for someone to connect the dots with his handwriting and writing style. 

speaking of plants, his room is basically a big greenhouse. he has so many plants, and takes serious care of them all. he has a little humidifier in his space for them, marks down when he waters what plants, and has a label maker to label them all with a name. they are all named after shakespeare characters. 

dyl is a doodler, so much so that he contributes to the school paper as a cartoonist. his cartoons are usually just random thoughts he has, but sometimes they get political and he works marxism into them. (this man loves marx.) 

[ suicide implied tw, death mention tw ] he dresses like a victorian boy in love with his roommate who has recently died of scarlet fever and in his mourning, plans to disappear in the bog by the school by mysterious circumstances and become a ghost that haunts the college with his lover. like lots of gray and slacks and ties ands ties and sweaters, lol. also he has glasses that he never wears because he can never find them! catch him squinting in your classroom because he can’t see SHIT. too shy to ask you for your notes though, doesn’t wanna inconvenience you! but when he’s Out on the Town®, he fucking wears like, tacky patterned shirts that are expensive but ugly. someone please help him. 

all about fun socks! he loves owning socks that have dumb little images on them. if you get him a pair of fun socks, he’d absolutely go nuts. his entire week: made. 

he leaves his roommate limericks when he senses they are sad. tapes em to the bathroom mirror or leaves them in the fridge. also loves buying people presents. tiny ones. like haunted looking things from second hand stores, or your favorite chocolate. also is the sort of friend that has EVERYTHING in his bag, in case someone cuts themselves or has a headache. can be a bit of a mom himself. it’s the little things, y’know? 

prob still in his emo phase. listens to way too mcr to not be lmao.

eco-friendly king, will not stand for you not recycling. 

if you will allow him, he will attempt to have a secret handshake with you. he’s a child. is dying for someone to memorize the parent trap handshake and indulge him. 

cannot sit still in a chair. fidgets an excessive amount, the bobbing of his knee and the squirming around. it just never ends. 

bi. that’s the hc.

he’s a little bit in love with everyone he meets if you couldn’t tell, and it’s fucking disastrous. 

he is based loosely off: patroclus ( the song of achilles ), ponyboy curtis ( the outsiders ), laurie laurence ( little women ), eduardo saverin ( the social network ), remus lupin ( hp ), oliver marks ( if we were villains. ) 

( @opalsmedia​ )

[chayacat]

Devil’s Sweet Star (3)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader  

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut  

***

“Welcome to the Nebula! Where our pastries came from outer space! How can I help you?”

You smile as you look at the room full of people. You didn't imagine you had so many people for your grand opening, maybe a few curious. You can thank Jed for doing this article. How are you going to thank him after that? He didn't have to, and yet he did. The sign you ordered the day you received your coffee beans was in harmony with the rest and by far it wasn’t hard to spot you. You were lucky to find an artist who could make you such a sign in a short time. And he was graciously paid for his work.

“Have you made your choice Miss?” you said smiling.

“I hesitate between a slice of Neptune’s pie and your UFO Brownies... they look so delicious!” said the young girl switching her eyes between the two pastries.

“They are! it's an alien chef who gave me the recipe, you'll see in one bite you'll leave ... in a space travel of flavour!” you say jokingly.

“Ha ha that’s really funny! Well, I’ll take two brownies and a slice of Neptune’s pie then! And an espresso with a cloud of milk.”

You prepare the order of the girl, who pays before taking the bag where the two brownies are, the slice of blueberry pie and the espresso. She gave you a big smile before going to a table to enjoy her sweets freely.  

You'll still have to consider hiring someone to give you a boost, because you have to admit, that you'll have a little trouble dealing with it all. Especially if more and more people come over time. While you were writing all this down in your diary, so you wouldn't forget it, you hear another customer coming in and you turn again to the counter ready to serve him.

“Welcome to The Nebula! You said “Oh hey, It's you Jed!”  

Jed gives you a sweet smile while heading to the counter.  

"Well, my little finger tells me that your grand opening seems to be a great success." he said with a laugh.

“Good deduction, Jed Holmes. Thanks for your article, I didn't think I had so many people sincerely. I don't even know how to thank you.” you said embarrassed  

“No need. All pleasure was for me. And then if it can allow Roseville to energize a little ... Why not? With a pretty face like yours, this trade can only hold up well.”

You blush a little in front of his words which made him laugh. Definitely this boy has everything to please. How could his parents have considered him as a mistake? If they saw him today, they'd see that he's succeeding in his life.  

You've only known each other for a few days and you don't know why, but the runner went very well between the two of you, we'd think you'd be friends who've known each other since high school. You see two young girls looking at him and talking to each other.

“Well, well, my little finger tells me that you’ve attracted the attention of these two ladies. What a charmer you are.” you said with a wink.

“What?” he replied before looking towards the two young girls who turned around looking like nothing before sneering when he faced you again, cheeks slightly pink. “I... I know I'm not ugly, but I'm not a beauty cannon either. I'm just... Me. A little journalist, a little nerd on the edges.”

Hey don't say that! If you knew how cute you are... Don't lower yourself to the lower than you really are."

Jed smiles while Danny smiles widely. So innocent... And besides you confirm his incredible beauty. He knows how handsome he is, a real charmer when he wants to. But as Jed he has to hide it, playing the little nerd who doesn't know how attractive he is.  

“So, can I take your order?” you said.

“A long cup of coffee, with cream and sugar. And I’ll take a slice of your March cake please.” he responds putting his glasses back in place.

“Coming right up at the speed of light!”

You gathered his order and give it quickly and when he pulled out money to pay you, you gently give it back to him.

“Well... I didn't get yelled at yet...”

“it’s on the house. It's my way of thanking you for that.” you said with a sweet smile.

“I can’t, here take it” he replied.

“Jed.” you started taking softly his hand to put the money in it. “What you did was the nicest thing on earth that anyone I know has ever do for me. And we barely know each other. Friends I've known since kindergarten would never have done it for me. You can always pay next time. But not today.”

Jed blinked several times before putting his money in his wallet. Then he took his cup in his hand to lift it up in the air.

“To the Nebula. Hoping that he succeeds and brings a little joy to our city so bruised by the current events. Cheers.”

“Cheers” you said lifting up your bottle of ice tea to toast with him before each drinking a sip.

“Excuse me miss can I have a refill? And another slice of your blueberry pie?” said a young woman working on her computer.  

“Sure!” you answer. “Sorry I have to get back to work. But you can take a sit if you want! Unless you’ve still got some work to do?”  

“Well, I'm on a break. I would say that this time I took my time because I am often criticized for not resting. But don't tell anyone.”  

You smile at him and take a pot of coffee to refill the woman’s cup. Jed took a seat not far from the counter and discreetly look at you. For Jed, doing all this on your own must be difficult and he really wanted to help you, but for Danny it's a blessed bread to know that you’re alone. No one could help you if he wanted to pay you a courtesy visit.He’s not going to kill you right away, oh no... He's going to get to know you. To the smallest detail.  

While you served again other customers in coffee and pastries, another entered. And you could say that he was not an ordinary person in view of his clothes and his way of being, he could be defined as a snobbish but influential person. If even a snob like him comes into your business... That can only be a good thing, right?

“Welcome to the Nebula sir! How can I help you?”

“Do you have imperial tea or Vintage Narcissus tea?”

“Uhm...Sorry sir this kind of tea is rare to find and very expensive. I only have red fruit tea at the moment and green tea. I should receive more soon.”

“Tss. Give me a Latte Macchiato in this case.”

You force yourself to smile and start preparing his order. But you feel his gaze on you as if he was stabbing you in the back. Jed gave you a reassuring smile as you returned him and once the Latte was ready, you lay it on the counter.

“Will it be all sir?” you said with a forcing smile

“Your... cakes there... Are they industrial or homemade?” he said haughtily.

“homemade Sir! with only natural products for better taste and quality!”

“I doubt it very much.”

“Excuse me?”  

“I doubt that a girl like you can get "natural" products as easily and cheaply. Or you take the big game out of them. It won't surprise me when you see such a decoration, it's like a junkie club.”

“Who are you?” you said with a nervous laugh

“What ??”

“I said: Who are you? Where do you know me for talking to me in that tone? Just because you have money doesn't mean you can do all you want. Plus, you insult me as a whore.”

“How could you...This is not a way to treat your customers! You can't even handle orders from your customers!”

“Sir... If I am not mistaken, I didn’t force you into my establishment, you came on your own. In addition, you adopt a behaviour that, in another place, you will have been worth an immediate exit with, if the person wanted, a kick in the ass or even more. So, are you going to take something extra or just pay for your coffee?” you replied with an Olympian calm.

Vexed, the man took the cup and spilled his content on the ground before throwing the cup in your face. But for all that, you do not react and you are quite right, with a man like him, better not to blame yourself.

“You don't lose anything to wait, little bitch. I'm sure I'll find something that will make you close your slum.” he said before leaving.  

You take a deep breath, throw the cup in the trash and take the bucket and mop to clean up the still-hot coffee on the floor. You expected to have rough customers but like him and from day one... Not really. But you did the right thing, not to react, stay calm in all circumstances.  

“What a son of bitch. he's never had his mouth broken this dirty asshole rich.” you grunt as you finish wiping the floor.

“Unfortunately, not... and with the influence he has, it's hard to do anything to him.”

You startle slightly when you hear Jed's voice behind you, who had witnessed the whole scene.

“Who's that bastard? How can you let a guy like that treat people like shit honestly??”

“You know men like him... can easily afford to do everything when they can afford it. All they have to do is bribe some people and they're safe. They feel untouchable and only live that way. They know that most people have financial worries and they take advantage of them.” said Jed.  

“What a coward. Money can't save him forever.” you replied.

While you were tidying up the bucket and mop, some customers came to tip while supporting you, facing what had just happened. Some of them swore on this guy making fun of him openly which made you smile. The rest of the day passed quietly; Jed had gone back to work in the meantime wishing you good luck. You check several times that all the doors were closed before closing your café and heading to your apartment.

You suddenly feel someone following you and you turn around discreetly for a guy in a hood. You walk a little faster and you hear the man's footsteps go faster as well. As you feel it approaching to the point of touching you, a horn startled you both and when you turn your head, you recognize a familiar vehicle.

“Hey! Have you ever been taught to not attack a woman? I wonder what we're going to learn about you if I call the cops. Get in. I’ll take you home.” Said Jed opening the door while Danny discreetly shot your assailant with his eyes.  

Once you got on, you closed the door and Danny went back on the road. You're lucky that Danny finishes his job earlier taking advantage of his extra free time to stalk you without getting noticed. This allowed him to study the situation a little more and he now knows that you check everything several times before leaving. And you may do it more often and longer after his visit as Ghostface.

“Thanks. if you hadn't arrived he would surely have...”  

“Don't say anything. I'd rather not think about it. You don't have to thank me. Between neighbours it's normal to help each other, right? You would have done the same for me.” He responds without looking away from the road.

“I'm sure it was these bastard rich that hired him to scare me. I should have beat him like that, he would have gotten the message out to him.”

“And then he would have used his influence to sue you and make you lose your coffee. It's a technique as old as the world.”  

“He loses nothing to wait.”

Jed nods as a bad smile appears on Danny's face. Oh no he loses nothing to wait for sure. Thanks to you, involuntarily, you found a new victim for Danny. But not right away. You have to study your prey before you kill it.

***

(Phew! Finally finished! I'll hope you’ll enjoyed it! if I'm not often distracted, I’ll try to post a new chapter every Friday! This will give time for new readers to read the previous chapters! See ya !  )  

[cosmicclownboy]

Me finishing something I struggled to write....wow it was actually likely :)

When his father is alive the idea of going to therapy is suffocating. It continues to be throughout his years in the air force until the day it's mandated because by that point everything was suffocating. Waking up. Doing his physio. Simple tasks.Hard tasks. He had survived against all the odds but a part of him felt dead. So a part of him was in this limbo where he always felt like he was dying. The first session he stares at the clock inching the minutes until the clock hand rests on the hour change. The second he stares at the glass of water. By the third session he's exhausted he hasn't slept he still hears the screams and the blast in his mind so he slowly lets the man in not to everything. Not to his dad but to the blast. He was diagnosed with Complex PTSD and he was offered many ways to help with it. He goes to his sessions. He does his physio. Alex slowly builds himself up then he goes back to work.

It goes well for the most part until someone slams a door shut and he has to spend an hour in the bathroom trying to eradicate the weight on his chest and how to stop feeling cold. His therapist offers anti-anxiety medication and whilst he nods his head eyes cloudy he hears his father's words.

"Manes men don't cry it's a sign of weakness. We are soldiers, not Sally's"

He tries different antidepressants settling on one that helps his thoughts slower and that helps him sleep. None of his friends knows it when he heads back to Roswell except Kyle after he's let in on the alien secret and he makes him his doctor in case of shenanigans.

His father dies and he thinks maybe things can be different better in a way he never thought possible. The statue gets put up and he has a panic attack so bad he spends the next two days in bed. It takes him two weeks to think about it really think about it. To face the battle he has to jump right in and the idea of therapy doesn't seem so suffocating any more he's no longer afraid just determined to make strides. With Kyle's help, he finds one that specialises in childhood domestic abuse as well as having experience with veterans. She helps him in ways he didn't think was possible and maybe a year ago the idea of the traffic light method would have had him rolling his eyes or silently repressing whatever emotions he had. But maybe this could be a good thing.

Michael is the first to notice they are on a recon mission together and he's passing across the really good coffee from Bean me up he raises his eyebrows at the sight of an orange bracelet.

"Didn't think you liked orange? expanding the airforce's colour scheme?"

He huffs at that. Who said he didn't like orange?

"My therapist said because of my upbringing and complex PTSD I have a hard time vocalising or communicating my feelings so she suggested a traffic light method. Green is a good day when my emotions are in check. Orange is okay I can manage the day. Red is when-

"everything too much"

"Yeah. On red days I write down everything as to why it's red including my triggers and talk them over with her. It also helps people around me recognise when I'm in that headspace"

Michael shuts his door purses his lips and blows into his own coffee cup.

"I'm glad you're talking to someone"

"Me too. Now, are we gonna recreate a buddy cop movie extraterrestrial style or what? Come on, Guerin don't tell me you don't want to unleash your nerd. This is a safe place"

Michael takes a swig of his own coffee shaking his head before chuckling and taking the wheel. Maybe they share a lot more longing looks then friends would normally. They've just always had a connection under the surface beating and bubbling all on its own.Unspoken and beautiful.

More often then not he wears the orange one. The first time the green bracelet graces his wrist is the day the homeless dog he found slowly offers her belly to be rubbed. Yeah, that day was worthy of a green one. The day Nova finds him and the days that follow which end in his house having a dog bed in pretty much every corner. He might end up replacing his leather couch but who cares it's just a couch. It has nothing on her.

It's only when the days veer closer to the fourth anniversary of that day he truly struggles. Phantom pain comes in waves and he grips every surface he comes in contact with. The days slowly blur together it's a cocktail of depression, sleep deprivation and nightmares that has him on the Tuesday reach for the red bracelet. He finds the Crashdown is a minute from where he is and he's in desperate need for coffee.

Communicating hasn't always been easy for him and Michael especially their fight and flight being fight or fuck over the past decade but they've been trying their hardest to strive to be better to build a foundation. The bracelets were always something Michael immediately sought out every time they were in each other's vicinity. He saunters into the Crashdown buckle first and smooshes himself into the booth without a second thought grabbing one of the menus and seeing what new alien pun food Isobel helped conjure. It isn't until he finishes his order smiling at Liz that he finally looks up to Alex who's completely dissociated. His eyes are dark and sunken his milkshake untouched and he just looks lost. Michael's eyes drift to Alex's fingers noting the tremors before his eyes peer up further and he sees the red bracelet. Michael has a choice at this moment he could leave Alex to it but something in his heart tells him that the days of leaving are behind them. So he slowly reaches for the right hand that tremors and lightly laces the fingers between them. By the time he's halfway through his fries, Alex is more self-aware. He looks to their joined fingers and Michael's mouth completely stuffed with fries and looks softly at him. He doesn't unlace them.

"Want to get out of here?"

They end up in their spot the desert vast and unnerving.

"Did I do the right thing driving us here does it bring up anything we can go back if you want? You never really told any of us what to do on a code red day".

He's right he didn't say to any of them what to do. Truth is anytime Alex usually has one of these days he locks himself in a room and allows every ugly emotion to override him until his body tells him otherwise. Today was a new one in that he wanted connection. He wanted to be with Michael and despite the fear of the unknown he confesses this to Michael.

"It'll be four years Sunday"

"Since your leg?"

Alex nods he doesn't really know how to delve into it the only people who know what happened are the people at the airforce. People don't ask they don't want to know and the people who do aren't worthy of the conversation. Not to mention a lot of his job is classified he can only offer what he can.

"It was meant to be a simple job. Twenty of us in and out.Forty minutes on the dot. I was meant to hack a server. We got to the room we swept the entire place we didn't realise there was a pressure-sensitive bomb until Avril took his foot off. He was the youngest".

Recalling it makes his body shiver his hands shake but he needs to do this.

"Only eight of us made it out. Everyone else had spouses and kids. I had a dad who when I woke up from a two-week coma said I couldn't get blown up right. I didn't understand it. I'm good at compartmentalising stuff it's what he taught me to do my whole life but that day...I felt everything then nothing."

They lay there for a while staring at the stars tracing them with their fingers with one hand lacing the other. There's a light breeze softly swaying in the air Alex softly turns his body to Michael's until they are laying on the side facing one another. 

"I get that feeling"

The confession Michael makes his heart ache and tighten he ushers the cowboy closer his fingers searching for his curls to slowly run his fingers through. Michael ends up the little spoon and judging by the little hum he makes he thinks he doesn't mind a little bit. Michael had the essence of a cat it's one of the many reasons he loves him.

"I know you do"

He pulls Michael tighter resting his head on his curls lightly pecking the crevice of his head.

"I think it's probably why we push each other away so much. I don't want the painful stuff I've been through to trigger or touch your stuff and neither do you so we pick a reason to walk away thinking the other one will be better off. I haven't been better off have you?"

Michael removes himself from his hold much to his disappointment and sitting up because he needs this conversation to be that of what it is a conversation.

"There hasn't been a day you've been gone where I thought that Alex. I'm just sorry for so many things"

"me too"

By the time he makes it to his house Alex is wiped he needs to feed Nova before she barks the house down. He also should really clean his prosthetic liner doesn't want to wind up getting sick. Not to mention taking his pain meds. Trust Michael to recognise all of this and tells him he'll feed her. He wants to argue but his eyes are drifting.

When he wakes up there's a glass of water his pain and anxiety meds on the bedside table and he's trying to remember how the hell he made it to his bed. Last time he checked he KO'd on the sofa as Nova was yipping at Michael's feet.

Michael.

Alex fumbles for his crutch and heads for the living room maybe he shouldn't make a presumption but he's pretty sure he knows his alien from the back of his hand and sure enough, he comes across to Michael and his Nova sharing the couch or Nova dominating both these things as if they are her own. It's the first time in a long time he's slept and he's hoping it's the first of many times he wakes up to Michael in his house. By the time he makes it back to the bedroom, he's staring at the red bracelet on his wrist and the notebook Michael also placed by the pill bottles sticky note on the top with a drawing of a lopsided penny. He spends twenty minutes writing it all down his triggers that day the way he felt all to make sure for his next session he can talk about it continue to make progress. By the time he's put the pen down and taken his anti-anxiety pill, he's greeted by his girl in the zoomies frame of mind.

"Hey, girl. Do you want to play? Give me a minute to put the leg on sweetie and I'll take you to the garden"

He stares at the three bracelets all meaning different things. Today isn't a red bracelet day so he turns to the orange one. It makes the most sense, doesn't it? Today he can manage yet there's something calling him to the green one. Can he go from red to green from a couple of hours? He'll make sure to ask in his next sessions but Nova excitedly barking wanting to play is reason enough for him to tie the green braids to his wrist.

"Do you always feel the need to dramatically lean against doorways".

His Michael senses are tingling he can't decide if it's a loving Michael thing or maybe the whole cosmic alien soulmate thing.

"You're wearing green today".

"Observant too"

He takes the coffee on offer delighting in the way the black bitterness soothes his soul.

"I think today could be a good day. Nova's happy. Plus you and I had an actual conversation which didn't end in tears, fucking or brokeback mountain angst"

Michael's not wearing his hat or his belt he's just leaning against the door frame with bedhead of the ages curls veering in every destination. He wants to run his hands through them and hold him. Fuck it who says he can't. He curls his head into his shoulder much to his surprise and tucks his arm to hold his waist. He feels the chuckle rumble against his ears

"We've had what ten years of it angst is overrated. You know what's underrated?"

"What?"

"Having breakfast. Holding hands. Watching a movie. Being boyfriends"

Alex feels a kiss against his head and peaks up to Michael softly cupping his cheeks he makes sure Alex's eyes are on his not looking away.

"I love you. If you aren't there yet that's okay. I don't want to mess with your recovery. If you don't want to be with me after everything that's okay too. I just want you to know I'm here and I'm not going anywhere"

Alex puts the cup of coffee down and brings his head up so their foreheads touch.

"I love you too".

Alex knows love won't cure everything and being with Michael doesn't mean it's automatically going to be green bracelets all the time. The red bracelet won't cease to exist. He still gets red days. But he does know this. Whatever the day and whatever colour he wears Michael will rub circles into his hand and hold it just the same. Some days he has a depressive episode or an anxiety attack and between his therapist and the people he loves they help him recognise it's okay. It's okay to be loved. It's okay to need and want people. His father's words can stay in the ground with him. Alex is finally content.

[ohstardust]

Sink In

Pairing: Chris Beck x Reader Prompt: You’re attending a mutual friend’s Christmas Party and your crush turns up. Words: 1,023 Written for @interestedbystanderwrites​ 12 Days of Christmas Drabbles - December 20th A/N: I adore Chris Beck more than most people and characters and there’s so many ways that we could write him due to there being very little about his character, both in the film and the book, so I’m taking liberties and turning him into the cute, geeky nerd that he pretty much already is. Title: Sink In by Amy Shark (It was so flippin’ late at night when I posted this that I managed to write Amy Sink)

Ugly Christmas sweaters, an appalling festive playlist and approximately eighty-two fire hazards, only signified one thing - Angie was hosting another friendly holiday gathering. There was nothing quiet or sophisticated about the woman’s celebrations. She was an unassuming wild card with shoulder length almost-black hair and a fringe almost touching her eyelashes, who came across as calm and sleek but could drink any man under the table, and liked to secretly orchestrate sheer chaos. It had been a few years since you’d involved yourself in Angie’s festivities, the host was more your friend’s friend than your own. Ronnie may have been your closest friend for a good ten years, but she was more of a lively fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants girl who had befriended Angie at a yoga class, a trait that you yourself didn’t share. How Ronnie and you he stayed friends all these years was virtually a mystery.

Ronnie was wine drunk and babbling on about the ‘hot new guy at work’ by ten pm and you were fastidiously trying to find a strong enough reason to excuse yourself from the party and head home because this was getting tedious, smacks of your teenage years hitting you every so often and you’d long outgrown the party scene that you seldom partook in even back then. “Look, Ron, I’m exh-“ “Honestly he’s got these green eyes that I can’t even begin to describe, like he’s actually perfect.” “Yeah, yeah, that’s great, I’m just gonna head o-“ “Hey, hey,” she said, smacking your arm, suddenly more alert and less wine hazed, “isn’t that Chris Beck?” You tried not to whip around to get a glimpse of the man, but high school felt like so long ago and it had been years since you’d clocked eyes on him. He looked so sheepish beside Mark Watney, Angie’s long-time boyfriend, just as he always had done in school. He was shy around those he didn’t really know, especially large crowds, and he’d had a tendency to just shrink behind his friends, to blend into the background and let everyone’s attention focus on everyone else around him. Chris Beck had always been one of the cute, nerdy types in your classes, ridiculously smart, head buried in library books and excelled in Biology studies. Only just last year had he graduated from the Yale School of Medicine, an achievement very little of your peers had in them. It seemed the past few years had aged him rather well and you felt your cheeks tingling. You raised your wine glass to your lips and tilted back, taking a long sip and swinging back ground to glance in the opposite direction, “Uh hmm, yeah that’s Beck.” “Please tell me you don’t still have that ridiculous crush on him?” “That wasn’t me, Ronnie,” your eyes rolled and you grinned, pointing at her, “that was you.” She giggled and took another sip of her drink, “Oh yeah, so it was.” Without missing a beat she took off in his direction, sashaying her way through the groups of attendees, much to your sheer mortification. “Ronnie, what in the hell are you doing?” You muttered. So maybe you weren’t entirely honest with your oldest friend, but you weren’t anywhere close to admitting your small attraction to your ex-classmate, heaven knows what she’d let slip to him if she was given the ammunition. You watched on half in terror and half admiration as your friend interacted with Mark before moving on to Chris, she was grinning something wicked and you should have feared her more when you watched her turn, lean in close to him with her arm looped through his, and a finger pointed at you. Curiously you watched on as he ducked his head with a small smile and briefly shook it from side to side. Ronnie refused to let him have whatever moment he was evidently having and he begrudgingly trudged behind the woman, his feet dragging slightly. “Darlings, you’re both cute, single and need to get laid - so interact with each other.” She preposterously winked and nudged the pair of you together and barked out a laugh as she wobbled off to her other friends. “Jesus, that’s the last time I let her loose with both wine and gin.” “She’s feisty, that’s for sure.” “So about what she said, you don’t have to be over here talking to me, I’m sure there at least five other people here that are sober enough to have a half decent conversation with,” you glanced around the room and comedically scrunched your eyes, “eh, maybe, give or take a few.” “Maybe, but I’ll bet you’re better company,” his smile was infectious and up close it was evident how much he’d filled out since high school, his shoulders broader, physique more solid, but those eyes had not dimmed in the slightest, they still sparkled, “besides, you do look cute in that somewhat interesting jumper.” You couldn’t help the glint in your eyes as you teased him, “Christopher Beck, are you - are you flirting with me?” Beck quirked an eyebrow and smirked slightly, his head cocked to the side with an air of confidence you had not witnessed on him before, “You know? I think maybe I am; I’ve only wanted to do that since we were thirteen years old. And I know I’m sort of ten years too late in attempting to make any kind of move on you, but when better than at Chri-.” Without taking a moment to think you gripped Beck’s face between your hands and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, hoping you were picking up what he was putting down, hoping to any potential higher being that may be out there that he wasn’t joking around with you because you couldn’t bear this rapidly growing crush that you’d been harbouring for him for years. Seeing him again brought up all of these old niggling feelings that you were sure had vanished, but the apparently dormant ones were staying to activate again. He stroked your cheek and shook his head with a soft smile, “Let’s try that again, you missed.”

[roswelldetails]

RNM 2x05 - I'll Stand By You

So just a little note from me, the person behind the season 2 detailing.  I am trying really really hard to keep emotion out of these posts...which is really really hard for me because I'm an inherently emotional person. I'm a glass case of emotion, ready to shatter at any given moment. (#dramatic)  But I want to be true to the intent of this blog and keep my feelings, biases, and, you know, shipping out of this blog.

It was really really hard to do with this episode. Because I straight up ugly cried for like, 45 of the 60 minutes. 😂

So I guess, the point is, I'm proud of myself and sticking to the details here. My regular blog is where I'm doing the emotional flip out thing! 😂

EPISODE SUMMARY:

ACCEPTING REALITY — The discovery of some complications with Max’s (Nathan Dean) pod forces Liz (Jeanine Mason), Michael (Michael Vlamis) and Isobel (Lily Cowles) to confront the possibility that they may not be able to save him. Elsewhere, Maria (Heather Hemmens) and Alex (Tyler Blackburn) make amends. Kimberly McCullough directed the episode written by Alanna Bennett & Jason Gavin (#205). Original airdate 4/13/2020. 

DETAILS:

Max/Isobel/Michael reunite at age 11 according to what Michael tells Alex in 1x10.  So that would make the opening of this episode set in 2002ish.

Michael tells Max and Isobel, "I remember you. I don't know you."

"After nobody adopted me for a year they just stuck me with the name of that trucker who found us."

"I didn't ask you for anything."

This is like the thesis statement of Michael's whole history with Max in the flashbacks.

"Don't pay more than you collect, kid. Passing credit back and forth is a good way to get stuck with somebody forever."

Rosa's art. 

What I can see says: "...what they all told me, but I didn't listen" and "Stand the shelter".

Rosa on her dreams

"I have not had any freaky dreams in weeks. Okay, Max is probably off haunting Isobel now that they're strong enough for their psychic twincest weirdness."

"How long has that been happening?"

"Um, I don't know. It's an old boom box."

"Rosa, have electrical appliances been malfunctioning around you?"

"I really thought it was just a side effect of the handprint."

"If being in the pod introduced a new protein into your system it could have altered your DNA too. You could be developing abilities."

"Liz, look. The handprint is changing.  It's smaller."

"It's fading."

"Tell me this is a good thing."

"I don't think so."

Michael and Liz theorizing on why the pod shorted out:

"The pod's got a charge. It's like a battery powering the preservation process. This one's gone dead."

"Did the generator blow the electromagnetic threshold?"

"I think a surge came from the pod itself. But that pod has lasted almost a century. It shouldn't glitch out."

"Okay, well, then, this one did."

"All right, stop. It doesn't matter why the pod is broken. It just is. So how long does Max have?"

"My theory is that being tethered to Rosa through the mark is what kept Max from going brain-dead, and in turn the stasis process is what kept the mark from fading. So he could be gone by tonight."

"Okay, well, we have three more pods. So let's just put him into another pod."

"No. He's just gonna do it again. I haven't told you everything. I didn't want to scare you. I didn't want to be the one that took the hope away."

"Talk now, Rosa. Right now."

"I was seeing Max in my nightmares months before I told you about it, and he was begging me to stop you. He said that he was in a lot of pain in there."

"That's Noah's pod. Noah told us it was broken. It wasn't keeping him in stasis. He could feel time passing. None of us thought of that."

"We've been doing everything we can to make Max stronger. He pulled his own plug."

Note...as far as we know Isobel was the only one who knew about Noah's pod being broken.  In 1x12 it was before Liz arrived at the house that he told them about the broken pod, so only Max and Isobel heard that part of the story.

Alex on his training. "NSA intelligence cryptology training".

Monitor screen in the secret lab:

Noah's heart is still too weak to transplant. Kyle says it needs at least eight more weeks

"I wrote a paper for a bioethics class on patients in vegetative states who feel pain. Sometimes it's all they feel."

As a non sciencey person, I was wondering if bioethics class was a real thing. Tonight I saw an interview on the news with a UC Berkeley bioethics professor on COVID. So yes, it's a thing.

Alex on Michael that summer post-Rosa's death:

Starting fights with jocks

Broke into the drugstore

Not going to UNM

Hasn't hung out with Max all summer

Got busted for stealing hubcaps (Kyle's hubcaps, we learn later) 

Became a walking bar fight

Was in jail when Alex left to enlist

Michael on Max in 2008:

"It's more than that. And it's less than that. We were friends when we were kids, but now Max reminds me of a bunch of stuff that I'd rather forget. The only thing that we have in common anymore is Isobel."

Max's yearbook had a pencil stuck in the page with Liz and Max's photo in it. (The one we first saw in 1x03).

"Biology Club. Max hated science. He was in that club for four years just to watch your sister chew on the end of her pencil."

Max's mindscape:

First just desert, clouds, and then lightning strikes (destructive energy?)

Liz's antennae -- they disappear from Isobel's hands

Rosa describes it as broken

Crashdown special is Max's favorite "Little Green Man milkshake".

The Crashdown counter is kind of merged with biology lab equipment. 

The juke box is there

The Crashdown booths

Jeep

Neon Crashdown sign

One of those claw drop game machines (from the Crashdown) but it's filled with baked good displays.

The yearbook

Later, everything else is gone except the one Crashdown booth, the Jeep, and the neon sign.

The distorted music they follow to find Max is the Cactus Groove song in the music list...just, messed around with. See @angsty-nerd's post here:

"I'm the hothead. You are the hero. It's always been that way."

"You stole the hubcaps off Kyle Valenti's graduation present. Both his parents are cops. Do you want to end up in jail tonight?". 

👀 Tonight, specifically. 

Michael seemed excited about the job at Foster's Ranch until he found out that Max set it up for him.  Max found out about it from his dad (only like the 2nd or 3rd mention of his dad in the series so far).

"When I got back in town I asked Max why you and your brilliant mind hadn't changed the world yet. He said you didn't care about the world enough to bother changing it. He believed you could."

Max and Isobel in the mindscape:

"You're okay. I could feel something was wrong with you.  Everything felt…"

"Cold. I know."

"You can't be here. It's finally ending.  I can feel it. But I don't know what happens if you're in my head when I die."

"So it's true? You want this?"

"I could feel my connection to the outside world getting stronger, so I snapped. I couldn't take it anymore. I released a surge. You have to let me go, Iz."

"I can't take it anymore."

"Okay."

"I am so sorry."

"I just want to memorize this."

"Okay. Okay.  I need you to tell Liz something."

"You can tell her yourself.  She and Kyle are prepping for surgery.  They're going to use the faulty heart. She just wants to talk to you before you die."

"No. No."

"You won't be suffering. They're just gonna bring you back and then let you go."

"No you have to stop this.  You cannot bring me back under any circumstances."

"Max? What is really going on?"

"I am dangerous.  Whatever Liz is bringing back is not me. It's just some broken shell."

Maria on her mom's computer 

"Her nurse said that for the two weeks before she went missing, when she wasn't trying to escape, she was talking to someone online."

The 21st birthday flashback

Isobel gets Michael to help move Max after getting drunk on tequila.  He passed out in front of the tattoo parlor. It's the same tattoo parlor Michael goes to at the end of the episode.

Max's weird drunken statement.

"The thing is, there has to be there. Okay? There's always three. Until the very end.  I'll show you...What it means is you should be here…'cause it's all broken without three. So we'll figure it out.  You'll find your way back."

👀 Until the very end. Interesting.

On Max becoming a deputy:

"You know he did the whole police academy thing because of you, right? He thinks you're gonna get into the kind of trouble you can't get out of if you don't know someone."

Back in the mindscape:

"I figured it all out. She, there's an energy to suffering, there's an energy to death, and when I heal people, I absorb that energy. So when I resurrected Rosa, I took in ten years of emptiness. So if you resurrect me, you will be bringing back an infection. Don't want… I don't want to come back as a monster. I don't want to hurt anyone that I care about."

"That's what this is about? We've been hurting, Max. We don't work without you."

"You will! You will. You are stronger now than when I died. All of you are. You, Michael, Liz, you will survive this. The three of you. No, you need to stop them, Iz. Now."

"Okay. I love you."

"You too." Isobel disappears.

Max is using pretty similar wording to his drunken rambles in the 21st birthday flashback

We don't see that Max is chained down until this next exchange with Rosa. Isobel didn't see that detail as far as we know.  Didn't hear the chains clanking when they stood and hugged. Only after Isobel left.

"I'm sorry this is happening."

"Isobel is lying. She is buying time.  You know she'll never let me go. But you can feel the darkness too, right? That's why you don't like being in my head. Because you know it's real."

"I didn't want that to be true, but yes."

"I know my sister and I know your sister and they'll never give up. So you have to be the one to stop this surgery, okay? Or I will destroy everything that we love. You have to stop them to save them. Now go.  Please, Rosa. Go."

Isobel explaining to Liz

"When he saved Rosa he absorbed all of that dark energy. He's gonna have to expel it."

"And he's afraid he's gonna kill someone when he does."

"Yeah. So we just need someone stronger than Max to take that hit...if he thinks he needs to protect us he obviously doesn't know how capable we are. Bring him back, Liz. I'll handle the rest."

"I get it now. It's gotta be the three of us."

"He would never pull his plug to end his own suffering. Unless he thought he was saving us from something. And I'm a little sick of his heroic martyr crap."

In case you missed it, Michael did not know that.  At the beginning of the hospital sequence Isobel is telling Liz what she learned in Max's mindscape and says that she hasn't been able to get ahold of Michael.  Michael figured it out on his own. He finally "got it".

The pacemaker:

Isobel with Max at the end… everything is gone except the Jeep. And Bright Eyes playing (the song he and Liz danced to on their first date back in 2008). And then his eyes close and Bright Eyes fades away.

“First thing I remember is the three of us. We woke up terrified and lost. But together. And then all of the sudden I was alone. I got real good at being alone. I had given up on people entirely. And then you found me again. Hell of hero move. You showed up just in time. When you are a kid who nobody loves, kindness is a currency. Friendship doesn’t means jack. Family just lies, and hurts, and leaves. I’ve only ever known love to be temporary. So yeah, I push people away. Every time someone threatens to care about me I test their love until they have to leave. Connection is conditional. Everybody eventually gives up on the guy who refuses to be rescued. But you were the only one who I couldn’t run off. You never believed me when I tried to be something I wasn’t. So this thing in your chest, it might give your heart a pretty solid kick every once in a while. Consider it payback. It’s my hero move, Max. If you wake up, you consider us even, okay? If you wake up, we can be a family.”

Good visual parallels during Michael's speech. Alex and Kyle drinking together during the "and then you found me again". Maria walking up on "the guy who refuses to be rescued"

Max is in the coma for three weeks.  Wakes up at the secret lab (instead of his house, which is where he was previously.  I'm guessing it was a planned wake up because he's no longer plugged into all of the IVs and whatnot.

"I begged you to understand."

"Max, it's gonna be fine."

"No… I told you to let me go. I can feel it inside me."

"It's...it's symmetry, okay? It's just energy for energy.  We can deal with that. Fight it, Max. This isn't you."

"I don't want to hurt you. I need to get out. I need to get away from you, from everyone."

"I can't let you do that."

Max shoves Isobel and runs. When he shoves her there's a slight ringing like the sound they use when the aliens use their powers.  Isobel follows and stops him with her powers.

"I made a promise that if you came back and you weren't Max, and you were actually going to hurt people that I would kill you. I figure, hey, you got to play God. Make life and death decisions all on your own. Well it's my turn now."

MUSIC:

1. Letters To Cleo "Here and Now"

2. Lady Antebellum "Love Don't Live Here"

3. Cactus Groove "Fallin"

4. James Talley "Big Thunder"

8. Ross Copperman "Stars Are On Your Side"

5. Lindsey Ray "Keep You Safe"

6. Tommee Profitt feat. Sam Tinnesz "With you Til The End"

7. Bright Eyes "First Day Of My Life"

The Cactus Groove song is the first song this season that I haven’t been able to find on Spotify… let me know if any of y’all had any luck with it!

[skaryskylar]

CAMELOT

Pairing: BakuDeku, DekuBaku Switch

Type: One-Shot

Prompt: Twin Stars Week/Day 2-Pro Heroes

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentioned smut,  ANGST , Major Character Death, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Post-Canon

Read on AO3

"Don't let it be forgot, that for one brief, shining moment there was a Camelot." - Jackie

           The morning dew has yet to clear. Kyoka finds her gaze drawn to the gleaming drops against the lush green expanse of the lot. It goes out for as far as her eye could see, trickling even into the thicket of oak trees beyond the yard. A wisteria looms over the black gate in the distance, lavender falls obscuring an entire section of it. The fog of the night has begun to lift, but only just. The world remains in a sleepy gray.

Fitting, she supposes, for a day like this.

She turns back to the great white house that stood high above her, taking in the roman pillars on either side of the porch, the double wooden doors, wrap-around porch, and just the sheer majesty of it overwhelms her.

She looks down. 'Trespass and you die.' said the welcome mat. If anything, at least she knows she has the right house. Kyoka steels herself.

The dark cherry wood of the door opens just as she lifts her hand to knock again. A face stares out at her, and it takes a moment for her to recognize her old friend. Age had done him a favor. Grief threatens to take it away. He's blessed with smooth skin, few wrinkles courtesy of his quirk, only a hint of crow's feet.

But his eyes are dull. She remembers them as gleaming rubies-keen, cut sharp enough to kill-always staring at their target with a startling intensity.

This is the color of muddied blood, sickly with dark rims beneath the gaze. Still, she smiles, opening her arms to tug him into a tight embrace.  He doesn't resist. There was a time when such a show of affection would've meant small explosions and screaming, but the morning's silence goes uninterrupted till she dares to murmur,

"Hello Kats. It's good to see you."

He pats her shoulder, still silent as he inclines his head to tuck his chin over her head. His grip tightens once, twice, then he releases her, wordlessly drawing back inside to clear the entryway. She follows. Behind her the door shuts with a creak as she looks about the foyer, quick eyes darting from the marble staircase by the wall, to the glistening chandelier above their heads, then out to the halls. She follows the sound of his fading footsteps, taking her time as she prowls looking from photo to photo of bright smiling faces, a happier golden time.

All the while ignoring the oppressive knells of tragedy that ring out in every corner, rattling her ears till she has to cover the jacks with her hands to reduce the pressure.

"This is a nice place Kats." she calls out, to distract herself. Minutes pass. She doesn't think he's going to answer when a low, raspy voice sounds out,

"...That's right. You missed the housewarming. You were-,"

"In America, covering the war."

She finishes her snooping. Tucking into the dining room where he waited, she looks at how he looms over the bar cart at the other end of the room. The gray cast through the window bathes him in a gaunt light, placing shadows where there should've been none, dimming his usual glow till he himself was a shade. Kyoka makes her way to him slowly, but with each step, the vision steadily gets worse.

Katsuki is by no means an unattractive man, but there's something off. An...unstableness to him. The rumors swirl in the back of her mind but she pushes them away. Time may have made them grow distant, but she still thinks she knows him. Knows what he's capable of. At least, when it comes to her.

"Sorry about that again. Oh, um, just water please," She nods as the man gestures to the drinks on the rolling bar cart.

He puts her drink at the right hand seat of the head of the tables. She take her place with grace, placing her tape recorder and notebook down primly. Gazing out the window, she patiently waits for him to settle with his whiskey.

There are no words of judgement spoken aloud as he takes a hearty swig.

She can feel his eyes on her, and hear the flicker when he turns away, following her gaze out the window to the rolling lush grass, down at the brown bunny who sniffed around in the dew.

"Are you ready?" She asks after a lengthy silence. The clink of ice in his cup is booming.

"As I'll ever be."

Licking her lips, she turns to him, hand already settled on the tape recorder. He doesn't shift his gaze from the hare in the lawn. There's something indiscernible moving around in his eyes.

Clicking the record button, she begins,

"July 25th. 8: 12 AM. I'm sitting with Katsuki Bakugou hero alias Ground Zero, the Symbol of Victory, here at the number one hero's dining room table. It is a gray day, with a fog settling between the trees surrounding his grand estate and dew still lingering on the blades of grass,"

She stops, considers, concedes.

"There is a rabbit in the yard. He stares out at it instead of me as we begin this interview...Mr. Bakugou how are you feeling today?"

"... It's 'the Wonder Duo's' dining room table, and 'their' grand estate. My name isn't the only one on the deed. And if you're gonna call me that the whole time, we're ending this shit now."

Scarlet eyes flicker to her and there it is. There's the man she knows. The vicious one who would bite and snarl and rip things apart so long as he would win.

"What's going on with you Kats?" She feels emboldened to ask now. "Are you ready to talk about this today? Because if you need to shift this interview slot, I can talk to my boss and have him send someone else-."

"I'm only doing this because it’s you Phones," he says. A hand goes up as if to brush through his hair, hesitates, then drops back down to handle the glass of whiskey. "The others, I-," He looks outside once more. "I can't talk to them.They don't know me. They didn't know him. You've seen us at our worst, and I..."

He falls silent and says no more. There's a vein working in his neck. She could hear it. The quick thump thump thumpof blood flow. She wants to give her quirk to him so he could hear it too: the reminder that he is alive to sit there and say what he needs to say.

Instead, she presses the urge into her grip on the recorder, starting anew.

"July 25th. 8:16 AM. I sit here with Katsuki Bakugou, hero alias Ground Zero, at the Wonder Duo's dining room table. It's a gray day but," She glances out to the clouds overhead. "The sky shows signs of clearing....Kats,"

She waits until the man looks at her, twin rubies dull in the light. Kyoka tries to put the ball in his court.

"Tell me about your husband."

"You know the story of how we met. Childhood friends. We didn't get along around puberty, but we were stuck together throughout UA whether I liked it or not. You were there. You've seen the worst of it."

"I never understood it though. Kirishima and Mina were childhood friends and they-,"  

"Were different from us. Or rather Izuku and I were different from the rest....We were always different. Complex. Simple and easy would've bored us I think."

Ice clinking. Fabric rustling as he rolls back the sleeves of his thermal. She takes a deep breath.

"....When did it change?"

If he could, he would gouge out his eyes and swallow them whole so he wouldn't have to see this crap.

"I didn't know they were dating." Mina mumbled into her cup of tea. He doesn't look up from where Deku has an arm slung around Round-Face's shoulder, plush pink lips pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Katsuki sneered.

"They deserve each other," He took a vicious bite from his apple, enjoying the crunch between his teeth as something raw and ugly reared its head within his gut. He felt sick and angry all at once. He wanted to retch. He wanted to fight. He wanted to take Izuku and....and...and...

He didn't know, and that was the worst of it.

"Kacchan! Let me go!" Deku's wrist was rough beneath his grip. The kid had scars, more than Katsuki could even count, all over his arms. He was beginning to suspect that he got them on purpose to look stronger than he really was. If that was the case, he had no qualms about laying down a few marks of his own. Lord knows he was good enough to do it.

"We're sparring nerd! Or are you trying to slack off now that you've got your little fancy ass quirk? You can't take up All Might's mantle if you're not willing to work."

That shut him up the rest of the way to the training room.

"I was supposed to have a date with Ochako tonight," The third-year muttered as he stripped off his shirt. Katsuki looked over the muscles in his back, how they flexed beneath the expanse of tan skin, shoulders covered in dark little constellations.

(And he burned.)

There was a thrill of satisfaction at the words. He swallowed it down lest he say something stupid.

But the feeling was so addictive he couldn't help but do the same thing all over again the next 'date night'. If Round Face wanted to distract the future #2 hero, she'd have to fight Katsuki for Deku's time.

It would have to come to a head eventually. He didn't expect it to take a whole fucking year, but he was nothing if not diligent. When Katsuki opened the door of his apartment one night to find Deku, bulked up from his time as Miruko's side-kick, lingering in his entryway, rain sticking his dark curls to his forehead as his eyes ran red with tears, he knew his work had finally paid off.

It was all he could do to hold back his victorious laughter as he pulled Deku in, peeled the wet clothes off his back, and pressed his advantage.

A hand pauses the recording.

"You broke them up?"

"I didn't break anything. Those two were doomed from the start. Two blatantly gay kids playing 'Heterosexual High School'. I did her a favor. Isn't she with that girl from Class B?"  

"I...You're a homewrecker Kats. What an asshole. No wonder she still shit talks about you."  

"She still hasn't gotten over it?"

She wants to laugh, but as soon as the impulse rises, the situation bears down on her once more, sobering her amusement into something bittersweet.  

"She didn't when I last saw her...But...I mean things are different now aren't they? I don't know how she feels."  

His tiny stutter of breath almost gets lost in the 'click' of the recorder. Scarlet eyes return to following the hare.

          The first couple months were a disaster. They were either called in for work, rained out, or something. Katsuki wasn't one for religion, but he couldn't help but feel as though karma had a gun to his head and was shaking him down for all he had.

Impromptu dates were the only option. They could never plan anything out, so they went on instinct, feeling their way through the darkness of the unknown, sprinting through each new thrill. It suited them. They weren't boring people, so the typical dating process wasn't up to their speed. Their dates had to be thrilling and unusual.

Katsuki loved each and every one.

But he had a favorite. This one stuck out cause it was the least expected, jarring in how its sheer inconvenience contradicted how much laughter bubbled out of his throat.

After all, not many people could say their boyfriend snuck into their hospital room, escaping from his own by the skin of his teeth, to take them on a date. But there Izuku was, a bouquet of 'Get Well Soon' flowers in his hand still dripping water onto the floor, bandages wrapped all over his chest disappearing below loose sweats. His house slippers scritched against the floor as he approached Katsuki's bed, green eyes alight with a certain glint that Katsuki knew meant trouble.

He was smiling before the shitty nerd could even speak.

"Hey hot stuff," That saucy wink only confirmed his suspicions. "You wanna get out of here?"

"Fuck yes."

His leg was broken in three different places, but that didn't matter. Deku hooked his arms under Katsuki's body bridal style, mindful of his own broken ribs, then leapt out the open window, curtains a flutter behind them as they went through the sky. He'd remember the way the wind whipped at his face, how his leg throbbed as the painkillers that made him drowsy began to wear off, but it was the hands clutching him tight that imprinted on his mind.

It didn't matter how much time passed. He'd be able to sketch those hands from memory. He knew their touch like he knew his own. Every mottled scar and each crook in his fingers, he could see them even if he went blind. There was no touch he knew to be gentler.

Even as they landed, and the ground quaked beneath the force of Deku's feet, he was brought down so softly, as if he were a thing to be treasured.

There was a picnic already set up. He could see the large tartan blanket from the sky. (Later he would find out Shitty Hair and Pinky helped out, but for that moment, his eyes were on the tall figure of his man with his broad back to him as he faced the world, spine strong and straight as the tree trunks that surrounded them.) The little details like the picnic basket, his old Victrola and a box of his vinyl were the ones his eyes had missed. He could smell spicy takeout from the Indian joint he and Kiri always went to, and a steadily burning teakwood candle that was definitely Mina's special touch.

A sudden fondness for his friends rose quick, but he tamped it down, fighting back the smile on his face.

He lost when Deku turned.

His grin was cheeky as he held up a bottle of jack, and Katsuki knew that was definitely the other man's idea. No one else paid attention to what he preferred to drink, just taking a single sniff, scrunching their nose and running away before he could convince them to try it.

"For the pain!" Deku said excitedly, knowing damn well their nurses would have their heads if they found out.

Ice clinks in the glass. Kyoka looks at the dregs of dark liquor at the bottom.

           He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment the realization came.  They ate in relative comfort, drank more than they were supposed to well into night, watching the stars flicker into existence as the moon made its arc through the dark sky.

It might've been when they set their favorite record to play and Izuku lifted him up. Strength was always effortless when it came to him. It made Katsuki feel safe. He didn't need the protection but it didn't hurt to indulge for once, laying his cheek against a firm, barrel chest and enjoying the warmth of an embrace as they swayed. His feet dangled in the air, alcohol dulling the pain of the broken one into a mild thrum that was lost to the tingling sensation of something going right for once.

Yes, that was the night Katsuki realized this was who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

           He stops talking. The tattoo around his finger is as bright as any ring, a simple neon green circlet, neon green lightning bolt where a diamond would've been. Kyoka licks her lips. The recorder is held tight in her hand, knuckles turning white till she realizes and loosens her grip. The two are silent. She searches for something, anything to say, but is interrupted by the thundering of little feet on the stairs, shoes slipping on the marble floors as wild shrieks rang through the hallway.

"Dad! Dad!"

And then comes the deluge. There are six of them, tumbling through the door still in their nightgowns, bedheads wild atop their heads and sleep still in the nooks of their eyes. They clamber around them, only a few sparing a curious glance at her before turning to their apparent father.

(When did this happen? Where was she for this part of their lives? All these tiny faces were unfamiliar to her.)

Katsuki holds the glass far from their reach, despite the only contents being ice, and smiles for the first time that day, shoving back all the grief and fatigue to quirk his lips.

"What's going on brats?"

"It's Aurore," The oldest, she presumes, starts with a confident bang. "Her quirk won't shut off! She broke the sink!"

As if hearing her name, the girl, the true oldest, question comes in.

Floats in, rather. Kyoka watches in mounting horror as the teen, no older than fifteen, comes over with terrible wails, black tendrils bursting from her hands like whips. But even this couldn't keep her attention.

No, it's the pink lightning all over her body that sets off alarms in her mind. She'd seen this before, in a different color.

"Her...Her quirk...it looks a lot like De-,"

Katsuki's hand slams down on the recorder, resounding slap making them all jump. He doesn't look at her as he gets up, one long lean line of power and authority.

"I've gotta take care of the kids. Come back tomorrow."

Then without another glance back, he takes the crying girl by her wrist, tugging her out to another part of the house. The other children follow, casting glances at her with wide bulbous eyes. Confused, and a little hurt, Kyoka collects her things and leaves.

           The hare is back. She thinks its warren is nearby. It's resting in the grass, uncaring of the exposure as she stares. The fog hasn't lifted. The sun stubbornly refuses to come out. Katsuki answers the door even before she walks all the way up to the great white porch. They go back to the dining room from yesterday. He has a pitcher of water set out for them both. She doesn't even think of the eerie silence until he explains,

"The kids have gone to their Grandma Inko's for the weekend."

"Oh, I didn't mind! You didn't have to-,"

"I think," he says softly. "That she needs them more than I do right now."

There are no words that she can say to that. Slipping into the easy folds of professionalism, she sets her recorder on the table. He looks out to watch the hare.

She begins.

"July 26th. 8:01 AM. Same place as yesterday, with the same fog. The house is empty-,"

"You can't write about them. The kids." He says abruptly. She sends him a look, forcibly erasing the last couple seconds from the tape. "Sorry, but I wanted to make that clear. The kids are...They need to stay safe."

"You have my word," She murmurs. He nods. She restarts.

"July 26th. 8:02 AM. Same place as yesterday, with the same fog. Katsuki sits at the head of the table, staring out the window at the same rabbit." She slides her gaze around the room, settling on a photo propped on a side table. She was there the day that photo was taken. She could hear the fireworks, the applause, the sweet, sweet music they danced to that night.

Twin smiles look back at her, imploring her to ask.

"Kats, tell me about him. If you could tell the world what you want them to remember about your husband, what would it be?"

It's a strange question. He turns at the sound of it, then follows her gaze to the portrait.

At once, he reaches for the whiskey on the rolling cart.

           The day of his wedding, he was nervous. It would turn out to be a fine affair; there wasn't a doubt in his mind about that, but that was only if Izuku didn't come to his senses and realize Katsuki was a selfish, rude prick with a temper and a mouth to match. He panicked. He fumbled over something as simple as his tie. His hands were shaking.

And he started to cry. It was only his Dad in the room, and Masaru was a complete bumbling mess when it came to tears, so the man left and, out of all the people he could've found to help, he found his wife.

Like he said. Complete bumbling mess.

Katsuki held back a scream when the old hag appeared. He nearly didn't invite her. She was the bridezilla of a wedding with no brides, paying strict detail to every fucking thing under the moon. But as soon as he saw her, the tears stopped short. He seethed instead, recoiling angrily as she fretted over him, tying his tie as she did back when he was a child.

"Kats'ki,"

He blinked. He hadn't heard his name pronounced like that since he was child. It turned his insides into mush, soft and malleable, quieting his curses till he was looking down at her with wide, blinking eyes.

(And wasn't that a wonder? She was a giant in his eyes once upon a time, but now she craned her neck to fix her gaze upon his face, weathered hands pressing against his cheeks as they did when he was a boy.)

"You're more like me than you're father. I suppose I need to be the one to tell you how not to screw this up-,"

He wanted to protest, but she pressed a finger to his lips, shushing him before smoothing out the lapels of his jacket.

"There's no marriage advice that applies to all couples. What worked for me and your father may not work for you and my darling Izuku, but nevertheless," Fingers paused, hesitated, then squeezed his shoulders. She pressed a firm kiss to his forehead."It must be said. Your passion is your greatest asset, but your temper is your worst. Never spend an entire day angry. Talk out your problems.

"Let yourself love him. Let that love consume you whole till it feels like there's nothing left but that warm, sticky feeling. And let him love you in return."

           Everything was golden that day. Ivory and gold. He remembered how the champagne flowed freely. It went down his mouth in waves, sweetness sticking under his tongue, traces of it on the curve of Izuku's lips when he kissed him.

Katsuki wasn't a dancer but he danced that night. There was never a moment when there wasn't a hand at his waist, or his own wrapped around a firm shoulder. But, no matter where his steps strayed, he always found himself back in the same embrace, held tight against a firm chest, nose brushing against the smooth curve of a neck smelling of pine and sandalwood.

"I love you," And if he could, he would tattoo the words onto his heart, to have and to hold until he took his last breath.

That day, in that glorious, reception hall of gold and ivory and pale white roses, they had their peace. For one brief, shining moment, there was a Camelot: a fairy tale in which greatness was golden, and they had the King Midas touch.

There would be none like it ever again.

"I was at your wedding," Kyoka says wistfully. "The press was in a frenzy for any pictures. TIME said it was bigger than the royal wedding. You two single-handedly brought a small city in Japan under the scrutiny of the world..." She sighs, recalling the breathlessness of it all, of sitting in the pew and feeling the tides of history wash over her skin. "It was a gorgeous ceremony."

"...Yes," he replies, eyes flickering away from the photo. "It was."

           The honeymoon was in Nice, France. It was strange. They weren't bombarded for photos. Either nobody knew them or nobody cared. They spent their days rolling around in the cool sheets of their hotel room, or laid out on the hot pebbles of the beach, toes in the rolling water of the tide. They would whisper secrets the other already knew in the dark, nibbling on cold pizza out by the shore, staring out at the vastness of the ocean as night brought them into its cool embrace. Izuku was a light even in that darkness. He was warm when the winds were cool, and still as the earth when the tide threatened to plunge them into the depths of the sea.

He could never turn it off, that thing that made him so bright. His moral arc was unshakeable, bending ever towards his idea of justice and peace. A symbol of strength in times when others were weak.

When Katsuki was weak.

Izuku said once that Katsuki was his image of victory. But age and experience taught him that the top spot wasn't everything. There was something greater than victory to strive for. It tasted just as sweet, but it was deeper, more profound.

He couldn't put a name to it but that...that thing was what he saw in Izuku. It was an innate glow. Every smile, twinkle of his eyes and even the smallest twitch of his crooked fingers bled with it.

He thought he could taste it on Izuku's skin. He certainly tried. When they lay in bed at night, he traced the map of the heavens with his lips, following each mottled scar that formed a road, memorizing each speckled freckle that formed a constellation against a tanned sky. With each kiss, each swipe of his tongue, he would taste the salt of his sweat but there would be something sweeter looming just beyond. He could spend hours searching for it, but Izuku, in all his niceties, was an impatient man.

The taste would barely brush his palette before the man would push him back into the soft mattress, set upon him with a vigor, and thrust into his heat till he saw fireworks.

Kyoka takes a long, heavy sip of water, resisting the urge to hide her cheeks behind her hands.

           He thought he could see it sometimes. There was a little girl going around Nice, the local thief. They saw her pickpocket an elderly couple and immediately sprang into action. But she was fast. In a blink, she could cross the distance Katsuki made with ten steps.

She couldn't control her quirk though. So when they started nearing the beach, and she looked back at them with fear, there was only one deadly end that could be made. He tried to yell at her to stop, but that only made her jump. Before he could reach her, she was drowning. He was in the waves in an explosion of red and gold, but Deku came from nowhere, black whips surrounding her little body till they lifted her out of the teeming waters.

He carried her to shore, back against the halo of the sun. Katsuki could see it then, in that moment. It wasn't the electric green glow of One for All, but something more. Colorless and without a name.

(Did that sound insane? Maybe he was insane.)

He rescued that little girl, listened to her tragic backstory of abandonment as Katsuki sat fuming off to the side, eyes watching for any sleight of her tiny hand that could lead to Deku being hurt.

(It never came. Not even in the years after. Even accidentally, Deku was the one person Aurore could never harm.)

Their time in Nice, though enlivened by the incident, slowed back down after that. Deku had made a name for himself, helping out in minor incidents because of course he did. Le lapin vert, or Lap-V according to the hipster kids that skated around. He was a hero, even on their honeymoon, simply because he knew no other way to be.

Katsuki didn't fight it. He didn't mind so long as there was a familiar arm slung over his waist in the night, steady breath on the back of his neck and that deep, profound feeling of safety.

They were golden. They were good.

Then they returned to work, spent years dedicating themselves to the tireless cause of justice, picking up orphaned children and taking them in as their own, picking up falling buildings, picking up society as a whole and carrying it on their backs until....

Unti Izuku died, and all things golden and good died with him.

He takes a moment. She allows it, watching with weary, burning eyes as he slips a worn pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He at least has the decency to get up and open the window, smoke filtering out into cool morning air, blending into the drab gray.

"Thought you gave up smoking."

"...It comes and goes."

 He watches the rabbit in the yard. The rabbit watches him back.

     He had the day off. He could still remember how warm the bed was that morning. The sun's light had cast their bedroom in a blissful glow, one in which he lounged in like a cat, stretching out his limbs with a great, silent yawn.

He had kissed Izuku's forehead, soft and tender with affection he wouldn't dare display if the other man were awake, then went to put on a pot of coffee. The children were still asleep, as they were wont to do those early summer mornings. Half-days at school meant they didn't have to go in until a little later, leaving the house in a comfortable silence punctured only by the scritch of his slippers and faint chimes of the Corinthian bells hanging outside the window over the sink. It was soon joined by the rumble of the coffee maker, and a tired sigh as a strong arm wrapped about his waist.

Izuku mumbled his 'good morn'ng' in the same tone he used every day.

(He didn't realize how much he would miss it till he struggled to recall the string of syllables in his mind, searching for the exact lilt on the vowels, that low tired thrum that sent shivers down his spine, as he stood alone in the silence of the following mornings.)

They had coffee and toast, talking about nothing of importance. Class A gossip. Hero Politics. The kids.

Izuku took his shower. Katsuki washed the dishes.

Izuku left. Katsuki kissed him goodbye.

"I love you," Izuku said. His eyes used to search Katsuki's own whenever he said it. He wasn't sure what the man was looking for. Confirmation? Reciprocation? Whatever it was, he had stopped looking after the fifth year of their marriage. That morning, as many others before it, there was nothing but a warm, steady gaze that made his lips curl and heat climb up the back of his neck.

That morning, as many others before it, all he said back was, "Later, nerd."

(He'd regret not saying 'I love you' more, but especially in that last moment. He'd replay it over and over again in his mind, just thinking about 'what if's. Other words he could've said to encompass the vast wealth of his emotions, ones that could properly define the black hole created in his chest when Izuku left him behind.)

     The call came in the afternoon. The kids had left for school an hour before. He waved them off as they boarded the bus, then entered the study to try and get a handle on his paperwork. His coffee had gone cold when his phone rang.

That was the first red flag. It wasn't his cell. It was his work phone. They didn't usually call him in if they had Deku and Shoto on the job. There was an unsettling feeling in his gut but he pushed it away, thinking it may have been a call about a promo opportunity.

He slid his finger against the cool glass.

Then Kota's panicked voice rang through the speaker and he felt the world slowly tick to a deafening halt.

"-Kugo! It's All for One! He's alive! He's here! Shoto and Creati are fighting him now but Deku is-! Deku is-!"

He had never thrown on his uniform faster. He was about to rocket out the door when his phone rang. His private cell. Something compelled him to glance at the screen, instinct warring  for a say with his mind already calculating the route he would take. Seeing his old teacher's name flash only cemented the dread building in his gut.

Aizawa wasn't the type to call him unless it was something serious. He picked up the phone, flying one-handed as he did so, adjusting his balance so that he didn't crash out of the sky.

"He's at Musutafu General. He's asking for you. I know they're calling you into the field, but he says it's urgent. He says....He says 'All Might would want you to have it.' That it.."  

A shuddered breath. "That it can't die with him."

He was on a course for the hospital before the line clicked. He didn't bother with the door, heart racing as he burst through a random window in a showering of glass. He was screaming; he knew it by how hot his throat was, the frightened eyes they sent his way as he marched through the building, boots scratching up the white linoleum floors, threatening to start a fight until Present Mic found him, clasped him by his old, wrinkled hand and led him into a private room.

His Izuku was there, lying in a bed, with no one around but Aizawa. No doctors. No nurses. No one who could help him. Katsuki was set to turn the entire place into a bonfire when green eyes turned to him and his sparks spluttered to a slow freeze.

"Get out," He ordered the extras. He couldn't even hear them when they complied, blood roaring in his ears like the sea.

(The sea. They used to go out and stare at it. Watch the sun drop below the gentle tide. What he would give for just onemore sunset.)

Izuku drew him close with nothing but his steady gaze. He was beautiful, even like this. Even as blood spattered his cheeks, leaking through his heavy bandages, as his eyes looked beyond him to see a greater, brighter horizon.

(Oh, how lucky he was to get to know God's favorite star.)

"Kiss me goodbye," It was a quiet rasp, easy as their mornings. He knew that tone, that series of syllables, mottled with something deeper than sleep.

He couldn't deny him when he was like this.

Katsuki pressed their lips together as he had countless times before, pushing every word left unsaid into this kiss, seeking a brief refuge in the dying warmth of his mouth.

'I love you...i've loved you...i will always love you'

Katsuki watched it go dim, that colorless, nameless thing. It slipped from Izuku's lifeless body to travel with his soul, off to a place he couldn't reach.

"What did he look like?"

"...Excuse me?"

"You said," She clears her throat, tar and oil in her mouth even as tears burn in her eyes. "You said Izuku was there, but what...what, um,...Can you describe to me what you saw?"

A silence yawns into the morning, stretching between them like the years passed. Katsuki looks at her evenly. When she turns away she still feels the scrutiny of his gaze. His voice is grinding gravel.

"You want me to talk about the body." He says it slowly, as if that would lessen the blow. "How the bandages couldn't hold him together? The way his legs were snapped, the hole in his gut that let you see clean through him? Do you want to hear about how his arms were slipping away from the bone? Do you want to hear about that Jirou? Do you really want me to describe what I saw? Or do the sick fucks of the world want to know what it looks like when a hero falls? What the Symbol of Strength looked like when he finally couldn't carry...couldn't..."

He sniffs. Wipes at his eyes. The tar in her mouth turns to ash, bitter and dry. She's never hated herself more than she does now.

"What happened after the hospital?"

He looks to the window. That rabbit hasn't left.

One for All pulsed in his veins as his sorrow joined his rage in a vicious cacophony.

They told him after, what he did. They told him of how the city burned in a blaze of terrifying glory. How he destroyed entire skyscrapers in his chase till he finally caught up to the man that took the sun from his skies. They told him how the newscasters were forced to stop broadcasting. The Hero Commission thought the imagery of the Symbol of Victory doing what he did best was too graphic for the public.

That was the worst part of it. The greatest triumph of his career and there was nothing to show for it but the shadow of a dead, lesser man.

He didn't remember any of it. He woke up to the blood on his hands, to the burned, ripped up pieces of a man once so feared lying at his feet, features unrecognizable from the dark, scarlet mess of blood, guts, and brain matter.

He didn't remember anything other than the face Izuku wore when he died. The fine curl of his lashes against the paling cheeks, how his freckles stood stark against his skin, lips blue but turned up into one final smile as he took his last breath.

He was golden, even in death. He was good.

"Are you crying?"

     She sniffs, rubbing at her eyes as a sense of shame comes over her. She was meant to be comforting him, and here she was, falling into his reluctant embrace, pressing her nose against the sweet scent of his skin and acrid smell of smoke.

"I'm sorry...I just...I-,' She throws professionalism to the wind and breaks down in sobs, tumultuous racking things that make her chest hot and her eyes ache.

For a moment, she wonders what made her think she could do this.

But it wasn't her choice at all was it? Her supervisor demanded it of her, thrusting the assignment her way thinking that since she was 'close to the man's husband; she'd be able to get the job done'. With no regard for her feelings, or how she felt about the situation.

At the end of the day, she isn't even the one that mattered. This broken man before her-this dying fire-, is a scoop really worth putting him through all of this? Whatever she's feeling, he must feel ten-fold.  He sits alone in this huge empty white house, drowning in memories of a golden time long gone, etched into every hall, haunting him at every corner, and here she is rubbing salt into the wounds.

Oh, she's a horrible person. A terrible friend. She has half a mind to throw the recorder out the window, but Katsuki slips it towards himself before she can even try. Crossing over to the window, he pulls out another cigarette.

"Go home Phones. Get some rest. We'll be back at it tomorrow."

She sniffs once more, collects the rest of her things, and finds her way out. From the driver's seat of her car, she can see him, a slim thing in one of the many grand windows, arms crossed as he leans out on the railing, a trail of smoke rising from his lips

Digging out her camera, she snaps a photo of the widow in the white house. She has to fight off the urge to retch the entire ride home.

"I don't smoke."

She glances up from her glass of water, warily eying the way he turned the recorder in his hands.

"31 minutes and 46 seconds in, you can yourself saying 'Thought you gave up on smoking.' Delete that part of the tape. I'm a pro-hero. The second half of the Wonder Duo. Kids look up to me. I don't smoke."

With that said, he slides the recorder back to her, takes a pack of cigs from his pocket, and lights up, reclining in his seat with shut eyes as the steady waft of nicotine fills the air.

Kyoka presses the starting button, and begins,

"July 27th. 8:30 AM. The dining room table again, with the grand old windows overlooking the yard. The fog doesn't seem to want to lift."

Twirling one of her ears with a finger, she looks at her notes, eying one question in particular her supervisor had underlined three times. There's no way she's going to be able to walk into his office without asking, but she's not sure if their friendship would survive the question.

"Did you regret it? Killing that villain?"

Scarlet eyes blink open but they are unseeing, glued to a spot just above her shoulder.

"Depends on who's asking. You, or the Tokyo Times?"

"...The Tokyo Times," she answers. There was nothing Kats hated more than a liar. She expected him to watch her with disappointment, to turn away and treat her coldly for the rest of the interview, but he simply shut his eyes once more.

"My actions were considered a necessary precaution to ensure the safety of the citizens of Japan," His voice is dull, clinical. She knows a practiced statement when she hears it. They were bland. The thump-thump-thump of his heart was at neutral pace, no emotion spurring it into action. "In order to preserve the peace of this new era, the greatest evil of the old had to be destroyed. I thank my fellow pros, the Hero Public Safety Commission, and all first responders for what they did that day. If he were alive,"

Katsuki pauses. The ice in his cup melts slowly beneath the heat of his grip, diluting the liquor it floats in.

His voice goes low, but does not shake.

"If he were here today, I am confident my late husband, Midoriya Izuku hero alias Deku, would be proud of what we accomplished as a city."

She does her duty in writing down what she could, scribbling a note to get a statement on other involved parties as soon as she could.

"Tell me how you felt about the funeral." She says as her pencils scratches.

"It was a ceremony worthy of a hero of Deku's statu-,"

"No." She lays a hand on top of his. "Tell me how you felt about the funeral."

A vein in his neck jumps. She can hear his heartbeat quicken with the rising fury.

"I hated it," He spat.

          When a hero died, they received what was called an 'Akira Service' named after the first shining man made of light  that decided to take up the mantle of 'hero'. It was a nationwide affair, drawing in colleagues, elites and politicians all intending to pay their respects with speeches, prayer, and moments of silence.

It had turned into an opportunity for influencers to rub elbows long before Katsuki was even a thought in his parents mind. The first he had ever been to was during  high school for Best Jeanist. He was still young then, unsure of what was going on.

The second he had gone to was for All Might. Deku was with him for that one, as they were not only the man's protégées but had recently burst through the top ten ranking. They stood in a crowd of thousands, surrounded by vultures and wolves, with nothing but the other and a few scattered friends for respite.

"Do not let my funeral be like this," Deku had whispered to him, after the third fancy insurance company head came around to cozy up to them.  "This is hell on earth. Hi! How are you?"

Katsuki couldn't reply then, when one of the Commission's higher ups approached with a false, wide grin, but he made that promise in his heart. He was sure that Izuku would do the same if Katsuki met his end first.

  But if All Might's funeral as the retired Symbol of Peace was huge, then Izuku's death as a young, active hero-the Symbol of Strength made into a martyr- was beyond measure. People flew in from all over the globe to 'pay their respects'. It seemed like everyone Izuku had ever met had come out of the woodwork.

(It was strange, because when one of them traveled, the other wasn't too far behind. Izuku had hardly met anyone that Katsuki didn't eventually meet himself, and there were a lot of unfamiliar faces in the crowd that day.)

He intended a quiet service for those close to them. For it to be done quickly and efficiently as possible, that his husband's body would be cremated and the ashes buried in the grounds of their home, beneath the wisteria tree, where Katsuki could go every morning and pay his private tributes.

They stole that right from under him. They locked him up for 'his own safety' for days on end and by the time he was released his private cell, stumbling into the arms of his parents, he was politely informed that 'due to the nature of the situation, preparations were already underway for the burial of his partner Midoriya Izuku hero alias Deku, if we would like to be a part he would be expected to show up at the following address in the morning dressed appropriately for the followings series of events-'

     Sorrow didn't taste bitter. He wasn't sure where that idea came from, but he knew it was wrong. It tasted like nothing. It tasted like his taste buds shutting down before the rest of his body, like a muggy fog he was constantly stumbling through, blind to the path, reaching out to find his way.

Sorrow tasted like what it meant to lose, and to be lost all at once.

His only grace was that he wasn't alone through this. He had his parents behind him, Inko at his side weeping into his shoulder, the kids with bowed heads and red eyes. All gathered around the oakwood casket that was still and quiet, muted in the wake of the winter sun.

He had his friends. Eijirou would maintain his quirk for as long as he needed to, beating back paparazzi with his gentle sternness as they made their procession through the streets. Sero blocked off a 'safe' area for family and friends during the service, tape strong with Kaminari's electricity latched onto it, crackling when anyone got too close without Eijirou's go-ahead.

Mina had organized what she could. Whatever control she, Inko and Mitsuki could wrestle from the Hero Public Safety commission, they did. She was the one that stressed over the tiny details, of white roses vs calla lillies and the order of speeches, that made sure the family was the first to be notified of everything that went on, that argued on their behalf when they couldn't keep up and halted the entire process until they agreed to release Katsuki, that they acknowledged that he needed to be there.

She, and the rest of the squad had-.

"Are you crying again Phones?"

"I am so, so sorry Kats. You needed me and I...I didn't show up. I missed it," She heaves through a sob, ears filled with a static that made her head hurt with something other than a deep-rooted resentment. He doesn't look her in the eyes. His heartbeat increases. She feels his toes tapping against the floor as he struggles to find the words to say.

(And here she was again, acting selfishly when Kats was the one who needed the help. When had she become this person?)

"It's not your fault. You had work-."

"That's no excuse. You went to him when he needed you. Mina dropped a modeling gig in the middle of Rome to come home."

"What you do is a little more important than-,"

"No." She brings her hands to the table, eyes willing him to look at her, to see how serious she was. It's not until dim scarlet flicker to her watery gaze that she continues, "I want to fix this. Please tell me how to fix it."

"...You can't bring him back."

"I would if I could."

"I know, but you can't." His cigarette is snuffed out against the marble floors, ash ground out under his heel. He pulls out a pack of tissues from his pocket and an envelope along with it.

"If you really want to help me out, publish this letter along with the article." he says. The white glides along the table, easy as a leaf on the wind. Curious, she unfolds it, wiping away the lingering blur of tears. Voice clear in the silence, she begins to read,

"...And it is with great pride and sense of accomplishment that I announce my retirement from the hero profession for good. It is evident now, more than ever, that the world is ready for a new era of peace, and I look forward to seizing my final great victory by raising those heroes. Yours, in service....Bakugou Katsuki hero alias Ground Zero....What the hellis this?"

"A resignation letter," Kyoka says to her supervisor, wincing. She hates it when he yells; the decibel levels are horrible on her ears. She gets the shakes, tucking herself in tighter.

"There's no way the Hero Commission is going to let their new #1 retire! Has his agency even approved this? We're not publishing this shit! They'll have my head! I asked you to go out there and get me a story Jirou! Not whatever this is!"

The letter is thrown into the air as his hand slams onto his desk.

"I can't believe this! You were chosen because I thought you'd be able to play on his weaknesses! I thought you could make him spill his secrets! A hero gone insane! The Widow: A Murderer! That was the angle I wanted then you come back here with this piece that makes him seem so-! ...So human! That savage Bakugou Katsuki! Our Symbol of Victory! No, you go back to that bastard's house and-"

She watches him rant. How his cheeks turn red with his rage. How fast his heart beats as he begins to fully get into the swing of it.

And she thinks back. She remembers how excited she was when she first got this job, how the squad had thrown her such a huge party. She remembers how proud of her Denki was and how he kissed her that night.

She remembers how the first date she had to blow off turned into twenty. The loneliness she felt when he finally broke up with her, swearing to always be friends. But she wasn't seeing much of her friends either. Then she started travelling abroad.

People started getting married (she's still alone.)

People started having kids (does she still have a chance now at 42?)

Then people started dying, and she was filled with nothing more than regret. The man is still screaming at her but, for the first time in her life, the world goes quiet.

"I quit." Kyoka says.

Collecting her things, she snatches the article out of the man's hands and walks out. The sound of the door slamming on his spluttering gives her a little thrill. She can't help but grin, kicking her feet into a little skip as she goes through the doors, and breathes in the fresh air of freedom.

As for her article , she publishes it anonymously with Put Your Hands Up News.

Her alias? Phones. It fits her she thinks.

The Priest: There comes a time in man's search for meaning when one realizes that there are no answers. And when you come to that, horrible unavoidable realization, you accept it or you kill yourself. Or you simply stop searching...I have lived a blessed life. And yet every night, when I climb into bed, turn off the lights, and stare into the dark, I wonder...'Is this all there is?'

Jackie Kennedy:...You wonder?

The Priest: Every soul on this planet does. But then, when morning comes, we all wake up and make a pot of coffee.  

-Jackie

     Miles away from the rush of the city, Katsuki sits on his porch, water and a cigarette in hand. That damn rabbit is back again. Doing nothing. Looking at him.

He stares right back.

Inside, the children are playing. Their shouts and laughter ring high in the air, over the bluster of the early autumn winds. He thinks the noise will scare the rabbit away but it perks up, craning its ears to listen. It looks at him once more, nose twitching and black eyes curious. He nods at it, then, for a brief ludicrous moment, thinks he sees it smile.

"Later nerd," he says. (Because, even after all the 'what ifs', it turns out that there are no words more fitting than those two.)

Katsuki watches it as it hops back to the cover of the forest, disappearing under the lavender falls of the wisteria tree. There was a certain lightness in his heart with each step the thing took.  Snuffing out his cigarette, he lingers on the steps of the porch as the children wander out to join him. They run barefoot in the wet grass.

He waits. He watches.

They scream. They laugh. They look to him with great expectations.

Katsuki slips off his shoes and goes to join his children in the cool, morning dew. The fog lifts within the hour. The sun is out by noon.

The day is golden.

[shigarakis-fifth-hand]

Bakugou x Suicidal! Deku

Major TW: Suicidal tendencies and attempt, blood, knives, overdosing, self harm

Deku sat at his desk, picking away at the pencil eraser in his hand. Aizawa was yet again going over the homework for the break. It was Labor Day weekend after all, so that meant three whole days with no school! That was a good thing, right?

Wrong. Deku looked out the window to his right, staring at the dorms in the distance. Izuku Midoryia was a fairly normal child, but that didn’t mean that he was perfect. The poor child had depression, strong depression to be exact.

Lately, he had been unable to sleep, so in response, he had stopped taking his medication to see if that was the issue. He had been taking the medication every other day at 6 pm since he was 8, and he had forgotten how bad he felt without them.

Not physically, but mentally...

During math class, he had visions of strangling himself out of nowhere. Deku had gone to the bathroom to splash freezing water over his face. Where had these thoughts come from? But the fact was that the thoughts had always been there, the medication had just sent them away. Had he always saw himself so ugly? Had he always had the urge to throw up any food he ate?

Damn, he needed to take that medicine. But he just felt so... sad. Quirkless nobody. Take a swan dive off the roof. Deku. Waste of space. Deku realized where all of this had come from originally. When Deku had found out he was quirkless...

Bakugou Katsuki, the guy sitting in front of him.

As he listened to Aizawa ramble on about their assignments and staying on track, Deku remembered his dark childhood. The days that he had sworn to forget were coming back, bigger and badder than ever before.

“You’re just a nobody!”, “Kill yourself already, will ya?”, “Maybe you’ll get a quirk in your next life.”, “Worthless Deku.”

All of his life, Izuku had been tormented for not having a quirk. And here he was... living a life full of lies. Surrounded by the future heroes of the world, he was quirkless. He was a nobody. He was worthless...

You should take a swan dive off the roof then.

Izuku jumped out of his desk, sliding onto the floor as everyone turned to look at him, worried and confused. “Deku, are you okay?!” Ochako jumped up, helping the green-haired boy get up. “Oh ya, I’m fine! I just...” He looked over and met eye contact with Katsuki, his eyes widening as the memories filled his brain.

“Kill yourself already!” Bakugo opened the can of soda and poured it over Izuku’s head, drenching him in the smell of orange and lemon. “K-Kacchan.” Deku murmured, unable to look away from the boy who stood before him. A younger Katsuki, with longer hair and snobbish eyes. The eyes that one had belonged to his best friend, and now the vain of his existence. 

“That’s right, I said it. The world doesn’t need people like you. You’re a waste of air, waste of space! Take a swan dive off the roof Deku for all I care!” He began to laugh, the two boys behind him joining before they began to walk off. Deku got up on his knees, picked up his backpack and shook the liquid out of his hair, picking up the burnt notebook as well. This was the fifth one this month.

“Oh, and before I forget Deku.” Bakugo ran up to Deku, kicking him in the stomach from below, causing him to fall to the ground in gasping pain. “Don’t take what I said lightly nerd. Think about it...” Deku looked at Bakugo, unable to believe someone could be so cruel to another human being. 

Not somebody who Deku would have called his best friend at one point. “You might get a quirk in your next life!” He stomped on Deku’s backpack, laughing loudly as he turned with his friends, finally walking away for real this time.

Izuku got up, brushing himself off and picking up his backpack. Dirty backpack... Burnt notebook... and a mulch-filled uniform. What else could go wrong? Suddenly, the rain cloud above him let out a crack of thunder before soaking him with an immediate pour. Just great.

Deku ran to the nearby bridge, staying underneath it as he sat down, allowing himself to breathe. Letting the emotion consume him finally, tears began to pour down his face, mixing with the fresh rain drops on his face. “Worthless... Pathetic... Waste of space...” Deku looked up at the tall bridge above him. “I’m giving you until your 17th birthday Izuku. Prove yourself for once!” he yelled, his voice echoing around. Deku opened his eyes wide, realizing what he had just said.

“If you don’t do something about the way you are by your 17th birthday... you take a swan dive off this bridge. Now going back.” He murmured, nodding as if to shake hands with himself. Even though Deku took those pills, Bakugo allowed those thoughts to creep back into his mind somehow. 

Now thinking about it, Deku had gotten All Might’s power two weeks before his 17th birthday... he would have killed himself. Was that lucky? Maybe he was destined to be dead... Maybe he should be dead.

No, he had to get out of here. He had to take those pills before they made him so something he would regret later on, which was becoming more likely. “Mr. Aizawa, I need to leave.” Deku looked up at his teacher, grabbing his backpack as his teacher looked up at him with concern. “I guess you get the idea of the assignment. Just don’t email me at 2 am Monday night like some of us.” Some of the class looked at Denki. “Have a nice break Midoryia.” The teacher nodded before resuming his lectures and explanation.

Midoryia sped-walked to the door, looking back only to meet Bakugo’s eyes again. ‘Not again Satan.’ Deku thought, running down the hallway and out into the fresh air. He ran all the way to his dorm room, slamming the door behind him. Usually he would take advantage of having an empty dormitory, but Deku didn’t feel like it.

He didn’t feel like doing anything. He didn’t feel like existing at that moment, or any moment. Deku opened the drawer with all of his uniform shirts and stuck his hand in the very back, pulling out a box filled with all of his pills, and other medications. 

Deku stared at the pill bottle and began crying, tears falling down his face. He didn’t know why he was upset, but at that moment, he wanted nothing more than to kill himself. And the fear of that alone made him even sadder, resulting in him being an emotional mess. At that moment he was wanted a hug, but nobody was around. 

Who would give him a hug? The pathetic, disgusting person that he was. He was worthless... he was quirkless... he was a nothing that needed to die.

In a moment of desperation, Deku plucked a single depression pill into his mouth and swallowed before crying even more. “Why isn’t it working?!” He yelled out loud, practically screaming. “Work god dammit! Work!” he dropped to his knees, holding the pill bottle in his hand before throwing it out the window, the sound of glass breaking around him as the bottle flew out of view. 

“Deku... just do it. You’re already 17, just do it already! Look at you, crying in a UA dormitory! A quirk doesn’t make you any better, you’re pathetic either way. Die god dammit!” Izuku screamed, pulling at his hair before rummaging in the pill box. 

Pain killers... perfect.

Deku smiled, seeing the entire thing was full. All he had to do was take them all, and then he’d be put out of his misery. The thought actually brought a smile to his face as he picked up the bottle and spilled the entire thing in his mouth, a few spilling out of the side of his mouth. He chewed on them and began swallowing. Walking over to get his water bottle, he began to get dizzy. Really dizzy. Immediately he fell into his dresser, a large crash being heard. Hitting his head, the world began to spin, his headache got worse, and the world became darker and darker. 

As the world became black, the last word he heard was a simple yell.

“Deku!”

[mamacesawrites]

The Biggest and Most Common Lie

Part [2] in An Angel’s Smile Series

“We are all conditioned, no matter how untrue, to tell one another ‘I’m fine’ until the day we die.”

Summary: Janus Ethan Dannecker starts college with only a box, backpack, $300, and a ton of emotional baggage that is overwhelming. The broken home he came from cast a shadow on him that he refused to let anyone see. The scars on his body were no match for the scars on his soul. He made it his mission to never let anyone see where he came from. See what he was really made of. See how messed up he would always be.

That is, until Patton Mavers smiled at him.  Ao3 [First Part] [Previous Part][Next Part] [Spotify Playlist]

Word Count: 1744

Story Warnings: past abusive childhood, angst, untreated/undiagnosed mental illness symptoms, detailed descriptions of abuse, cursing, implied/referenced substance abuse. Rated M for Mature audiences. Let me know if I need to add more, and read with caution!

The Biggest and Most Common Lie

The evening had been going well. He had expected it to be awkward as the outsider to an obviously close friend group. Though somehow they helped him feel included. He allowed himself to relax the tiniest bit. Just enough to make the night go smoothly.

 Roman had been very curious about him, which made Janus’ skin crawl. He wasn’t sure if he liked Roman, but wanted to give the boy the benefit of the doubt. Normal people were curious, right?

 “So, Janus,” Roman started after he took a bite of his pasta. “Why the odd name? Were your parents mythology nerds, or something?” 

 Virgil smacked the back of his boyfriend’s head. Roman coughed, then glared at the assailant. “What? I just want to get to know him.” 

 Patton had been sitting next to Janus, so he gently patted the top of Janus’ hand. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” he murmured. 

The contact was nice. He didn't flinch away. It helped that Patton was making his movements slower and easy to see. Janus wondered if it was because he flinched in the dorm room earlier. He didn’t know whether to be flattered or concerned if that was the case. 

 Janus cleared his throat. He didn’t want to be rude to the people who were so kind enough to let him tag along for a good meal. “No worries,” he told the fake story with ease from years of practice. “My dad was always obsessed with Mediterranean history, specifically Roman mythology. My mom was the same, except she loved the Greek sides. When I was born, they both wrote out their choice of name and flipped a coin. My dad won.” 

 “What name did your mom choose?” Virgil asked. They all had been paying attention to him with what seemed like genuine interest. 

 He wracked his brain for the other name. It had been a while since he had to tell this story, especially with people so curious. “Morpheus.” He decided that would be the other option. 

 “Wow. My parents just named me Roman because we’re all mostly ‘R’ names,” Roman chuckled. He went back to eating his food. 

 “Well, I like the name Janus,” Patton told him with a grin. “I don’t know you very well yet, but it suits you.” 

 Janus should not have held onto the word ‘yet’ from that sentence, but that word had him soaring through the rest of the night. He felt his shoulders relax after hearing that the angel was willing to keep him around. 

 “I was named after the Roman poet, Virgil.” the shaggy haired boy piped in. “My mother is an English teacher at our old high school.” 

 “Oh, I will be forever pissed that she had the audacity to give me a C on the final,” Roman exclaimed a bit loudly. He brought the back of his hand to his forehead for effect.

“Well, yeah, Ro. You didn’t study.” Virgil rolled his eyes. “Just because she loves you doesn’t mean that you were going to get an A without effort.” 

 “Janus, where did you go to high school?” Patton turned to face him. He was making a point to include Janus, even though the lovebirds were bickering about the grade. 

 “Oh,” Janus had this lie prepared, “I went to a private school in California.” 

 “Wow, you’re a long way from home then,” Patton observed sympathetically. “Well, then we’ll make sure you get settled here so you’re not alone.” 

 Janus felt guilty for lying about his previous school, though it was true he used to live in California. Seeing someone be so genuine in their fondness towards him made him feel uncomfortable, yes, but he couldn’t help the feeling that this was a place for him to fit. At least, the identity he had carefully constructed so no one would see how ugly he truly was. His outside self fit with them well. Meaning he had to be even more careful with his words.

 The night continued well. Patton had caught on that their questions were making Janus uncomfortable, so he effortlessly changed topics but still kept it casual. He and Janus met each other’s eyes a few times during their meal. Each time Janus felt his heart flutter while rushing blood to his cheeks. They brushed shoulders a few times; which caused real, though small, genuine smiles.

 After they finished their meal, Roman and Virgil decided to go on a walk together despite it being dark out. This left Patton and Janus alone together on their walk back to the dorms. It was chilly out, and the town looked beautiful in the night. That may have been the influence from his companion though. 

 Patton was definitely a bright individual. He was so personable. Janus couldn’t help but be drawn to him. He looked stunning in his outfit-a grey cardigan, light blue polo shirt, and tight fitting khakis. He hadn’t stopped smiling, and Janus wanted nothing more than to keep that smile there. 

 That radiance made a light on his soul that for the moment made him feel close to normal. 

 Janus and Patton walked together slowly. Neither of them were in a rush to get home. Janus suspected that Patton, too, didn’t want the evening to end. They walked together in silence. The only noise between them was a comfortable quiet as the warm night blanketed them. 

 Patton did interrupt the quiet, however, when they were within eyesight of their building. He stopped underneath a streetlamp. There was a bench nearby that he made his way to sit on. He looked up at Janus and wordlessly patted the space next to him. 

 Janus sat down, curious as to why they had stopped. He could see that Patton had something on his mind, though, so he waited patiently for the words to come out. 

 “Janus,” the angel started with a gentle tone, “I don’t want to imply anything’s wrong.” Patton looked at his hands as he spoke. 

 Janus felt his defenses go up. He was ready for the rejection. He had been too awkward at the dinner. Patton was just being kind enough to tell him that this was a one time thing. He was going to let him down easy. 

 He let the boy continue, though, knowing full well that interrupting was not a good idea. 

 “I just want you to feel like you have family, here, especially since you showed up alone.” Patton sighed. He brought his hands to his face to rub underneath his glasses. His blue streak looked darker in the yellow light of the streetlamp. “I didn’t want to say anything at dinner, but…” 

 Here it comes

 Patton looked at him with a watery smile. There were tears in his green eyes that nearly broke Janus’ heart. Please don’t cry, angel.

 “You don’t have to pretend around us. There’s no need to lie.” 

 The screaming in his mind picked up again. It had gone quiet as the evening went on, but being caught in the facade gave it more volume. His breath started to quicken. The mask started to crack enough to let water fill his eyes. He looked away to wipe them. The nerves of the day hit him all at once. 

 He jumped when he felt Patton rest his hand on his shoulder. Patton pulled away just as quickly. “Sorry, force of habit,” he apologized. “Could you look at me, Jan?” 

 He wanted to run away. To escape the terror of the moment he was stuck in. He shouldn’t have let his guard down. He was going to be rejected for deceiving them. Tricking the group of close friends that he was deserving of their companionship. 

 He looked at Patton. The screaming quieted as soon as he looked into the angel’s deep green eyes. There was nothing but full trust in those eyes. Patton’s soul was an open meadow for him to take refuge in. He could hear the whisper of a promise of loyalty when they gazed at each other. 

 “You can trust me, hon,” Patton whispered. “I know you don’t know me well, but once I care about someone I stay dedicated to that care.” 

 Janus smiled. It was genuine. He was grinning at this stranger offering up his love so easily. It was ridiculous. He laughed bitterly. “I believe you, but you also don’t know me very well. If you did you’d choke on those words.” 

 He stood up swiftly. The screaming voice in his mind begging him to run. To save himself from heartbreak. “Thank you for inviting me out to dinner, it was fun.” He brushed off his jeans to avoid looking at Patton. He ignored the fact that his voice cracked on the last word. 

 “Janus, wait I-”Patton started to beg. Janus could hear the threat of tears in his voice.

 “Don’t worry about it, Patton,” Janus looked over his shoulder with a caked on smile. “I’m fine.” 

 Without giving the other a chance to respond, he walked away hurriedly. He was both pleased and offended that Patton didn’t chase after him. He got to his room quickly. He sighed in relief that Virgil was still out on his walk with Roman. It gave him a few minutes to release the tears he wanted to release since he first arrived on campus. 

 He wasn't fine. He was on his own in a place where no one knew him. He gripped the sheet in his hands as he remembered how hard it was to lie about how he felt. 

 Who was this angel? What power did he have over Janus that compelled him to be honest? Why was it so easy to forget that he needed to lie about being fine? Why was it, at the point in the evening when their hands touched, did he feel like a normal person? 

 Who was this angel who seemed to see through his disguise? 

 Patton and his friends included him, and he ruined it because he had alluded to how damaged he was already. No facade could withstand the observant green eyes.  

 Virgil returned after a time that was way too long to have just been a walk. He probably was engaged in amorous activities with Roman like normal couples did.

 "Hey, you okay? Sorry if I woke you up," his roommate whispered. 

 Janus smiled even though it was dark for Virgil to see. "No worries," he whispered back, "I'm fine."

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