#how that would feel to wake up forgotten AND a failure anyway

[matcha-milkies]

MARLIN

Summary: Marlin travels across the ocean to save his son and comes home emptyhanded. (In which Nemo really does die at the hands of Darla.)

Content Warnings: Major Character Death

Tags: Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Self-Pity, Bad Ending, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 1,069

Link to AO3: Here

A/N: I wrote this thousands of feet in the air after rewatching Finding Nemo on an airplane, and then I let it rot on my drive for months SO UH. Enjoy my sleep-deprived angst?

I’m telling you, if I had posted this right after I got off the plane I would’ve been rambling in these notes about how Finding Nemo is one of the greatest animated films ever created (which I mean, it very well might be) but that’s just to give you an idea of the overzealous headspace I was in when I wrote this

The journey home feels short. He spends most of it in a daze. He’s surprised nothing got him in its jaws, and he wonders whether he would’ve tried to get away if anything had made the attempt. All that wild, reckless determination that had driven him across the ocean in a crazed frenzy, it’s gone, dispersed like dust in the current. He coasts along the seafloor looking and feeling hollow.

A few fish recognize him from the rumors, and when they try to talk to him, he just stares dead-eyed and desperately wishes they would try to eat him instead. He thinks maybe the shame will lessen with each retelling of the story, but in actuality it only intensifies.

“I didn’t make it in time.”

“I was too late.”

“Nemo is gone.”

It hurts to say. With every utterance, cold reality solidifies around him.

What makes it worse is those little landmarks, the trench, the minefield, milestones he passed with someone he’s trying to forget. It’s like grieving twice over. At times it feels like more pain than his little heart can reasonably be expected to bear.

And whatever pain he thought he felt on the way back, it’s not enough to prepare him for the wave of grief that hits him when he comes home to an empty anemone for the first time. He circles the interior aimlessly for a little while, like his brain is broken and doesn’t know how to locomote anymore. After a while, he finally settles down and lies on his side. He’s staring wide-eyed at the open blue above him and he looks dead.

At some point he falls asleep, and when he wakes up, he can’t tell himself it was just a dream, because the empty space beside him is impossible to ignore. He doesn’t get up from his spot on the floor. He doesn’t leave the anemone. He doesn’t eat. It’s a while before anyone comes to check on him.

“Hey, uh, Marlin?” It’s the seahorse dad. The irony of not being able to remember his name when he finally remembered Marlin’s. ��You… You in there?”

Marlin closes his eyes and tries to go back to sleep. When he’s asleep he doesn’t have to think.

“A couple parents saw you come home the other day…”

After a few beats of silence, he finally pokes his head out between the anemone’s arms. “I appreciate the concern. Please go away.”

“But…”

Marlin’s already retreated back into his home.

He didn’t honestly expect anyone to care whether he wasted away, but to his chagrin they keep sending fish to check on him and make sure he eats. Maybe he wasn’t enough of a recluse before. They don’t seem to have gotten the memo that he wants to be left alone.

He has a lot of dreams about her, which is ridiculous and pathetic because she’s definitely already forgotten about him, and he was the one who left her when she practically begged him not to. How could he do that to her? A failure as a husband, a failure as a father, and now a failure as a friend too. Why didn’t he at least stay with her?

Because it would’ve been too painful. Because every time he looked at her, he’d hear, “The boat went that way.”

Well, it’s echoing in his head anyway. So a lot of good that did him.

He replays scenarios in his head where he does everything right and stops his son from going out there in the first place. Scenarios where he gets through the obstacles quicker, does things faster, gets to Sydney sooner. It’s a momentary respite and it’s also agonizing, self-inflicted torture.

Some fish named Gill finds him, what must be an eternity later. Claims to have known Nemo from the dentist’s aquarium. Marlin shoos him and the rest of his gang away, doesn’t want to look at them or talk to them. Doesn’t want to… to know what his son went through in those final days…

Except that he does.

Slowly but surely, he peers out from the anemone. “Wait.”

Gill glances back at Marlin.

“You were the last ones to talk to him,” Marlin croaks. “And the last thing that he said to me— I— I guess what I’m asking is…” He realizes he hasn’t cried since it happened, not really, overtaken first by panic, then shock. Here and now, to his absolute horror, he can’t stop his voice from breaking into tearful quavering. “What I’m asking is… Was-Was he angry at me?”

“Angry at you?” Gill seems genuinely taken aback. “He was desperate to get back to you. It was all he could talk about.”

“The last thing he said to me was that he hated me,” Marlin explains. (If he doesn’t count the terrified screaming for help, which he’s trying really, really hard not to think about right now.) “So you don’t have to sugarcoat it for my sake. If he really hated me, I-I want to know.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” the starfish lifts herself long enough to pipe up. “Anyone could see that kid loved you so much.”

“When he heard you were coming for him, oh, you should’ve seen the look on his face.”

“He was such a little trouper.”

“You gave him the courage to go through with our first escape plan,” Gill says, and then, growing more solemn, “It… It almost worked too.”

Resentful thoughts creep in. Why couldn’t you have escaped sooner. Why couldn’t you have taken my son with you? But that’s not fair. It’s not their fault Nemo is gone. It’s his. It’s only his fault.

Instead of voicing any of that, what Marlin does is break down into quiet, ugly. shuddering sobs. Before he even really realizes he’s weeping, he’s flanked on both sides by fish, the blue and white lady and the purple-yellow guy, consoling him with gentle fins. “Hey there, it’s okay,” says Deb.

“It’s not okay. I was supposed to protect him, and instead I yelled at him and he swam off, and there was the boat and the people, I—” He draws in an enormous breath, having forgotten to inhale. “Why didn’t I go after him right away?”

“You don’t know that it would’ve made a difference.”

Marlin breaks from his sobbing long enough to look at Gill.

“What’s done is done. All you can do now is… move forward.”

A/N: Why did I write this.

(Yeah I called this fish a husband and not a mate. He called his anemone a “house” in the movie’s opening scene, I’m taking a few liberties of my own.)

[south-sea]

Ooh, how about "X" for your black arms crew?

i'm including Neutral End in this too yahooo (from this!)

X. What's their biggest fear?

aruna he's been through so much these past 13+ years that he's swung pretty hard into "desensitized" territory. to most, he would seem eerily unfazed and always collected. the exception might be disorientation in relation to waking from particularly nasty nightmares, but those rarely happen, and tend to happen only under specific circumstances, so i'm not counting it.

it's less that he's afraid of traditional tangible things at this point, and more about concepts. the thought of forgetting fills him with so much dread it's hard for him to process. when he starts to get into it, there comes a point where he has to force himself to stop thinking about it or he'll drive himself mad trying to recall what's no longer there, or the sinking feeling that there's something he's already missing.

nearly his entire self-proclaimed purpose in life now, other than to live for himself, is to remember. memories are all he has left to keep his people alive. so for him to forget even the smallest detail is to essentially be a failure who's lost his purpose for living in place of... literally everyone else. the survivor's guilt is real, and it is heavy. it doesn't manifest with sadness. it's simply this.

he likes to think he remembers everything perfectly. time and trauma have seen to it that he does not. he claims his people didn't have songs. he's forgotten black moth knew and sang the last of their kind.

black moth it's a little odd for a "moth", maybe, but bright lights instill an almost primal sense of dread in him. he can't pinpoint any rhyme or reason for it. in most other situations, he'd have the "fight" reaction when adrenaline kicks in, but when it comes to this, he just freezes.

and by bright lights i don't mean just any. it's not as if he's going to freak out if you turn on overhead fluorescent lights or something, even if he's not a fan of those in general. it's if he's already in a dark room and you shine a single beam on him from overhead, or things like extremely bright, large spotlights in the distance.

he assumes it's fear, anyway. maybe it would be more accurate to say it's awe. the last traces of some long-buried memory.

black moth remembers the songs. black doom remembers the illuminated rings their planet had. they've both forgotten pieces of their history they once held dear, and all that's left in those empty places is dread. but maybe it's better to fear this empty unknown than to mourn it.

alt doom defeat or mistakes he can't come back from. he has been beaten and pushed into a corner countless times, but he always comes out on top in some way, or knows when to employ a strategic retreat. this guy is ruthless and thorough in a much more strategic way, or at least the little mishap with gerald taught him to be.

if he knew what aruna had been through to end up with his entire species eradicated, he'd be a) dumbfounded by aruna's "stupidity", and b) horrified by the outcome. alt doom cannot fathom a reason or a route where he himself would get desperate enough for it to end like that. the possibility of losing that badly, and that much, is almost beyond his ability to comprehend.

he's lucky that arrogance hasn't been his undoing. if he were still in existential peril these days, maybe it would be.

neutral end doom he's kind of just aruna give or take some steps, and that's intentional, but by the end he's different enough to have a place on this list. especially since his fear is different: time. he's genuinely just afraid of running out of time, despite staring that fact in the face constantly. past a certain point in his hive, his kind dying and fizzling out is just a known inevitability.

he knows that, and yet he refuses to let it consume him. so he claims. that broken hourglass hangs heavy from his chains.

neutral end shadow honorary black arms. the running trend here is loss. he is keenly aware now-his-kind are going to die. he's seen countless black arms be cut down or wither away. he doesn't want to lose anyone else, least of all black doom or black moth.

it's inevitable, he knows. he's seen the hourglass too. but he'll be thankful for the time they have left until there's no one left to be thankful for.

[diaryofamelancholicgirl]

March 19th, 2024  4:25pm

At my core, I am a failure. 

I wrote earlier that I had decided to stop wanting, to stop caring, but even at this I have failed. I still yearn for too much, for things that have never happened and will never happen. I think about a life in which I am happy, in which I have friends and fond memories, in which I am not myself. Because the truth is that I hate myself. I am so ashamed of who I am. In my heart, I am a failure. I am selfish and cruel, I am too harsh on others and myself, I hate and hate and hate yet still want to be happy. How can someone so horrible want to be happy? I am a selfish, disgusting person and I hate myself for it. But I can’t change. It’s too late for me, I fear. I am 25, and I have nothing to show for it. I have failed in every aspect of my life: school, friends, relationships, personal growth, career, everything. I’ve never had a full-time job, I have only one friend (who I cannot help but hate passionately), I have no direction in life and no motivation to do anything worthwhile, I am destined to be alone for the rest of my life. What is the point then, of continuing this worthless struggle, this disappointing and embarrassing attempt at living? To hope that life will get better in the future? I have been dreaming that same dream for over a decade, and it has gotten me nowhere. 

I see others being happy and I wonder how they do it. How is it possible that they are so happy? The answer is that they are good people, unlike myself. They care and they love and they are passionate. I do not do any of these things. Maybe ▬▬ was right about me all along. Actually, I know he was right, and that is why it hurt so much. I am not passionate. I am not adventurous. I am not spontaneous. I am boring and dull and scared and sad. I see others’ happiness and I want to reach out and feel it, but I can’t, because I know that it is not for me. I will only spoil it, ruin it as I do everything in my life. 

I am not meant to have friends, to have love. The only people that love me are my family, and they are the only people that I love. I wonder if they love me because of who I am, or simply because they must. Part of me believes it is the latter. Because who would choose to love someone like me? That is why I cannot date anyone – other than the fact that I am most likely (definitely) asexual and therefore no one would want to date me anyways. I am destined for a life of loneliness, and despite having lived that experience for the entirety of my life so far, I still find it hard to accept. I still yearn for friends and for love, but it is a silly dream. 

I can’t even dream a whole dream. I can’t even imagine a world in which I am happy, in which I have friends, in which I have a passion for living. Even in my fantasies I am broken and sad, just a piece of baggage that weighs down those I want to love me. 

What will moving back to California accomplish? Nothing. But I am accomplishing nothing here in New York either, so there is really no difference. At least in California there will be sun and my family and green hills and fresh air and quiet and open skies. There I can pretend that I have my whole life ahead of me, pretend that I have not wasted my best years being depressed and alone and wanting to be dead. Maybe there I can pretend a little longer, I can entertain the idea of happiness just a little while more. After this summer, I’m not so sure. 

I wish my family would just put me away somewhere where I can be forgotten. Where there are no expectations for success or happiness, where I can wake up every morning and have nothing to worry about and nothing to do besides sit in the sun and read. 

I wish I wasn’t like this. I wish I wasn’t so sad. I wish I could be happy. I wish I was different. I wish I could fulfill people’s expectations of me. I wish I could live up to my potential. I wish I was passionate about things and had enough drive to pursue my goals. I wish I cared enough to change. 

But instead, every day slips away into nothing, and every night I reflect on another wasted opportunity to change. I sit here and I write and I reminisce and I yearn and I beat myself up and I cry and I shake and I get angry, and then I do nothing. I act like everything is outside of my control, when in reality it is entirely in my control. Everything is my fault and I hate myself for it. 

But what can I do? It feels like I am fighting myself every step of the way, every second of every day. I have to convince and plead with myself to do anything. The sadness in my chest is so heavy, it weighs me down and makes doing anything feel like moving through honey. Even when I am happy or doing something fun, there is a part of me, the part that can’t let go of that sadness, that watches from a distance and wonders if we are really even happy in that moment. I try to think back to happy moments in my life, but they are all tainted by that sadness. I can’t remember any time that I was truly and purely happy. The sadness is always there. It never goes away. It aches, always, sometimes it hurts so much that I can do nothing but lie in bed and clutch my body against itself. I can’t even cry in those moments. All I feel is the ache. 

[thcscheis]

no comment

[apompkwrites]

I’ve read (most of) your twisted wonderland sibling things and as the oldest in my family, it feels…weird! Like! It’s super cute but as the oldest it had me thinking, what would the older siblings be like!?! (With angst, cause who doesn’t love to cry!?!)

Rosehearts

The older Rosehearts would prob be a wild child, the second they were out of their mothers control they nose dived. They did drugs and alcohol, so many parties. They hit rock bottom then started digging cause they were finally allowed to make mistakes! Since their mother was so controlling, they really don’t know how to handle money, or dieting, or anything really, cause they never had the chance to learn. Their mother has disowned them, but Riddle gets a card for every holiday with no return address and only a small rose and heart drawn in the corner. Riddle knows who it is, but just tells his mom it’s from a school mate. One holiday when he doesn’t get a card, he thinks they’re gone. They’re gone and he never got to show off his housewarden outfit, or show them how far he’s come. He never even got to say good bye and now their gone!

Kingscholar

Major Middle child syndrome, always forgotten. Farlan is king, Leona is a disgrace, and Sib is just…there. Average, boring, nothing special. They end up basically a shadow in the castle, even Farlan and Leona forgetting them sometimes, until they see a third place at the table that just feels empty. Honestly, sometimes the brothers wonder if their Sibling died and they never heard about it because they just…never see them! They see remnants, a dirty plate, some books left out, ect, but hasn’t seen THEM for so long. Cheka probably doesn’t even realize he has another aunt/uncle, he’s only heard stories of the rumored “forgotten Kingscholar”. Sometimes Leona sees them turn a corner, but when he gets there the other is gone, or sees them outside through a window, but again, they’ve disappeared by the time he arrives. Neither brother remembers what their siblings face looks like, or what their hairstyle is. Sometimes they both wonder if they even had a sibling, until a memory of them as kids playing surfaces, a third unknown cub running around with them, and laughter that isn’t either of their own

Ashengrotto

Sib probably went with their father after the divorce of their parents, they ended up the major bully after being bullied so much. If everyone hates them, they hate everyone. Their tentacles are covered in scares, and always scraped up now. A major punk, lone shark, ect. They’ve turned their back on everyone. Azul doesn’t remember them much since they’re usually not around anyway, but he remembers being read bedtimes stories by someone soft and sweet, he remembers when his parents would scream and fight and wake him up in the middle of the night, someone would crawl into bed and cover his ears to muffle the sounds. He remembers their face vividly, and he hates what they’ve become. He wants to help protect them now, from their selves. They protected him as a guppy, it’s his turn to return the favor, if he can convince them they need other people. It hurts when they push him away now instead of curling around him so protectively.

AlAsim

The failure of the Al Asim name, Kalim is the true AlAsim, the oldest was a fluke, a mistake, a bastard. Kalim’s older sibling was born to a mistress, and for no fault of their own, the entire family hates them. Kalim’s mother despises the living proof of her husband’s lies, their father hates the look of his mistakes, only Kalim loves his sibling. But that’s not enough when even the servants call you a mistake. Sib would always try to play with Kalim and Jamil when they were younger, brushing out Jamil’s hair and teaching them to braid, helping put on jewelry and dress up only to be shooed away from the “True Al Asim” to keep their bastard hands from harming Kalim. They tried so hard to love and be loved, by anyone! Kalim remember ps playing airplane, remembers them flying on the magic carpets, playing dress up and pretend, it’s why he always played those with his younger siblings now. They brought such joy to him, but they never smile anymore. They don’t play anymore. They just sit there, almost catatonic, eat, sleep, like a living doll. He misses their smile.

(That’s all I’ve got for now,

waaaah older sibling hcs!!!

interesting take on our older!rosehearts :OO kinda like rebel except they start spiraling and spiraling until they just... disappear. i would guess that older rose has been sending riddle cards for the longest time but only until after his overblot did he fully appreciate them. and then, shortly after, the letters stopped. the only confirmation of his older sibling being alive has vanished and he can't help but wonder if he had realized things sooner, would they still be here?

older!kingscholar is average. theyre not excelling or failing they're just... surviving. their presence is still in the castle but their actual being is never seen. they wander the halls silently, leaving traces of their whereabouts only to disappear once again. it would take a miracle for anyone to see older kingscholar again.

i like the idea of older!ashengrotto being a sort of rock for azul? only to be taken away from him because of the divorce? like when azul was being bullied when he was younger, older ashengrotto would swoop in and take him away, shooing off the bullies in the process. but ever since they were taken away to live with their father, they've grown cynical of everything. the only person they cared for was their younger brother but now they barely get to see him :((

and and older asim being the child of a mistress which is why kalim is seen as the golden child of the asims :OO they love their little siblings but their parents shun them from being able to be that older sibling to them. all because of a mistake that wasn't their fault, only the cause of their entire existence. and eventually, all of that shunning turns them into a human doll. they learn that they have no free will because they are only defined by a mistake their father made years ago D:

[dreamkidddream]

I’m the Doll!MC Anon and I just wanna say I’m so glad that you enjoy a soft/delicate!MC and I really didn’t expect it to get so much love!

Since I kinda want to be evil and see the boys be overprotective, can I request hc’s of them seeing Doll!MC getting hurt by some lesser demon that bumps her into the ground and she gets a bruise? 🌚

Omg Doll Anon I wasn’t expecting it to get so much love either (here’s the original Doll!MC HCs if anyone wants to read)!! So I actually had your request saved for when I was done with the prompt special bc it’s so good, so I decided to combine them and I have definitely been waiting to write this 😈😈 Reader is gender neutral!

CW: mention of blood (nothing graphic) and spoilers for Lesson 16 (Lucifer, Mammon, Beel, and Belphie’s part)

The Brothers and Diavolo with Doll!MC who Gets Hurt

Lucifer

Okay whoever is dumb enough to hurt you in front of him deserves this 100%

The air around this man is already more than intimidating, so whoever tries this is a poor, stupid soul

When he saw you fall down the stairs, he felt his stomach turn. He already caught you before you could injure yourself further, but after seeing the blood coming down your face, the damage was already done

Now, Lucifer is the brother who always has control over himself and what he does. But, we also know that how his temper can get, especially when it comes to his family

This demon is dumb enough to push you but not dumb enough to crack a smile in front of him, especially with how tense Lucifer is getting right now

He sat you up and tried to remember some first aid techniques to stop the bleeding. You’re on the verge of losing consciousness, but you’re okay right now. He’ll take you home, but first-

His glare is making the demon freeze in place right now, and the anger radiating off of him is petrifying

How dare- how dare this fool harm you, in front of him no less?! Did they think that he wouldn’t do anything? That Lucifer, the Avatar of Pride, one of the strongest demons to ever grace the Devildom, would just idly stand by and let this happen?

He’s stalking towards them, and he can feel his fangs showing and his diamond appearing on his forehead, growling out how they will pay for this-

But he’s stopped by Lord Diavolo, who was shocked by the scene. You’re unconscious, and Lucifer has this poor student hanging in the air by their uniform, claws ready to slice through them. Needless to say, he understands why his close friend is upset, but for everyone’s safety he should just take you home like planned

You thought Lucifer was a helicopter parent before? You haven’t seen NOTHING yet

He would start inviting you more to his room to sleep in his bed while he works away, and it started happening so much that he didn’t even ask anymore and started expecting you to always be in there

So instead of him being glued by your side, you’re glued to his. It’s obvious that he can’t let you out of his sight without something happening (again), so hope you’re ready to see experience Lucifer’s daily routine from sunrise to sunset and a whole new set of rules. Basically playing follow the leader, but with a lot more handholding and kisses

You had to practically beg to be back into the kitchen, and he only relented when he could be the one to supervise you, and even then he still didn’t want to hold anything sharp or be near anything that could injure you (which is pretty much everything)

The main one to put a stop to his brothers’ schemes, handing out harsher punishments than before each time they try to involve you. This man is not playing any games with anyone

You know he means well, he was already overprotective from the start, and this is just his way of showing that he cares about you. You can tell every time he gives you that soft look in his eyes, and the regret that he shows every time he catches sight of your bruise. He may not like to be vulnerable, but he couldn’t hide his emotions from you too long. You’re like a weakness to him, one that he isn’t against indulging in

And he hasn’t forgotten about that student, oh no. He made sure to have a nice lengthy chat with them when you both returned to RAD. You didn’t question it when he informed you that the student had been rightfully punished and no longer an issue, and you tried to ignore the red dots splattered on his shoes, or that sadistic gleam in his eyes...

Mammon

This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening, this isn’t happening-

The blood is pouring from your head, and your eyes are closing too fast for him, and his heart stops

You look lifeless, like when Belphie killed you, when he was too late to save you-

He’ll never forget that image, it’s drilled deep into his mind, forever a reminder of his failure to protect you. And now he failed again-

This demon is gloating about this, and that’s when he snaps

He was already in his demon form and beating the life out of them when he was restrained. Many people were shocked that he was capable of this, that Mammon the scumbag, Mammon the dummy, Mammon the punching bag was capable enough to be this dangerous, this deadly. He’s the second born after all, and he’s the strongest right under Lucifer himself, and he holds a lot in

He could- he would do a lot more because they deserve it, but just seeing you so still, it snaps him out of it. You’re more important to him than getting his anger out, and you’re the one he needs to be focusing on right now. But rest asssured, this isn’t over

You thought he was attached to you before? He is glued to your side 24/7 and will not be leaving anytime soon. Ever since you woke up he never let go of you, calling you “his human” and just hugging you tight

Also if you have to go down the stairs you guys are FLYING no exceptions! The stairs are the devil in his eyes (how ironic) and he will not be risking anything with you

If you guys aren’t out and about under his careful and watchful eye (and I mean very careful, he’s like your very own bodyguard but with a lot more growling and snapping on strangers than usual), then you’re in his room doing whatever. Watching movies, playing cards and somehow beating him every time (he swears that he isn’t letting you win! Lies), whatever you wanna do. As long as you’re with him, giggling and safe, he’s happy and stress free

You mean so much to Mammon MC, he can’t even tell you if he tries. Under his tsundere traits, he really loves you, like really loves you! He’s just so scared of being rejected and losing you a second time. But now that he knows you’ll always be there for him, he’s going to do the same for you (but he already was even if you didn’t like him) He hates looking at that bruise right now, but it’s set as a reminder to not let something happen to you again

Also, another thing that people forget about Mammon is that he can talk to crows. So it wasn’t much to have them track down the person who caused you pain, and it didn’t take long for him to find them either. He thinks that the aftermath will set a good lesson for everyone else who continues to underestimate him when it comes to you: don’t

Leviathan

See, this is why he never leaves his safe haven AKA his room!

After he saw your head hit the ground hard, he was freaking out. He doesn’t know what to do, he wasn’t prepared for this! He tried shaking you to keep you awake, but your eyes were steady closing

Everything is happening in slow motion. You’re slumped over on the ground while the person who did it is laughing at him

If anything, the person who did it should be the one on the ground, not you, not his Henry. It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair!

The demon stopped laughing when their windpipe was getting crushed by the second. They couldn’t even try to loosen the grip, Levi’s tail is rather strong, and so is he. He is the third strongest out of his family and the Grand Admiral of the Navy, yet people tend to forget that

Everyone knows how bad Levi’s tantrums can be, but this isn’t just a tantrum, it’s much worse. Had the brothers not intervene, he would have done much worse than summoning Lotan (which he was on the brink of doing anyway)

When you did wake up, he was so upset. Of course he let this happen, he’s just a worthless otaku who couldn’t even keep his crush safe-

OMG why are you hugging him and patting his head?! Quit it- well wait, this does feel kinda nice...Ugh you’re such a normie! Getting hurt so easily and still trying to put a smile on his face. But it does make him feel better

He rarely left his room before, and you guys are definitely not leaving it now. It’s like having a sleepover, but it never ends. That sounds great, right MC? Endless marathons of TSL and other anime, co-op video games, trying on his cosplay outfits that he made (some even made just for you and he needs to cover that bruise somehow), it’s going to be so fun and you’ll be safe with him! Who wouldn’t want that??

We all know that Levi is very self conscious. He knows that he isn’t confident like Lucifer and Mammon, or attractive like Asmo, or smart like Satan or Belphie, or physically fit like Beel, he knows. But every time you listen to him ramble on about this new anime show that he wants you guys to binge, or when he rants about a stupid move his teammate did in an online match, he feels valued. He feels loved. And while it’s hard for him to express his feelings, it’s no doubt in his mind that you’re important to him, and that he’s beyond happy that someone like you is his best friend

One day he’ll get the courage to say those three words, but he hopes that you already know with everything that he does for you

For example, Levi is an aquatic demon, and he has the ability to communicate with all types of sea creatures. Granted, he knows right from wrong, but in his eyes he’s taking care of the problem. So it wouldn’t be a huge issue if he used them to clean up the remaining mess of said problem, right? I mean, his venom can only do so much, and he doesn’t need anyone questioning him, and Lotan does get hungry...

Satan

He could only see red. Both from his anger surfacing and from the fact that you’re bleeding

He had his claws wrapped around the neck of the one responsible before they could even think about running. This- this filth dared tried to escape after he hurt you? And they thought that Satan would just let them get away with it?

They must forget that he’s the Avatar of Wrath, the one who doesn’t show mercy

He just kept pounding the demon into the ground, over and over and over and over. He didn’t even care about the blood splatter it was leaving on the lockers or on him

He was this close to finishing them off when he heard you call out for him, and it took everything in him to drop them. He squeezed their neck a final time, not even close to being satisfied with the whimper he heard, and growled out a promise of that he will find them and will make sure that they suffer before he threw them down. They better count themselves lucky that they get to crawl away in one piece (for now), because had you not been there-

Oh, he is seething the more he thinks about it

But you bleeding is a distraction from it, even if it is making his stomach turn, it’s helping him know that he needs to help you now

He didn’t have to let his brothers know as they came to see what the commotion was, and Lucifer (even if he didn’t want to believe it himself) was anxious that he was the cause of it. But after he saw the hold he had on you and another demon barely clinging onto life, he knew otherwise

It was decided that you two going home would be the best course of action (which it didn’t matter to Satan, you both weren’t going to stay here whether it was demanded or not), and he calmed down enough to properly treat you

You didn’t leave his room for the rest of the day, and he even gave up his bed for you to lie in so that he can do some research. The human body is a complicated thing, but Satan can learn it like the back of his hand just for you. So just go ahead and rest for now MC- or maybe not, you might have a concussion according to this book and if you do he needs to monitor your condition!

Even after you were healed, he didn’t let you out of his sight and daily checkups were a must. Dr. Satan is in the building!

You eventually moved back into your room (you would have stayed longer but he’s a little nervous with his towering stacks of books and doesn’t want anymore accidents), but he practically moved in with you with how much he comes over, either falling asleep at your desk reading a book or falling asleep in your chair right next to your bed

Very reluctant to have you around stairs, it makes the hairs on his neck stand up. He’ll let you go down the stairs ONLY if you’re holding his hand. If you’re upset with those conditions (spoiler alert you’re not), then you better be ready to learn some teleportation spells (but even then he’s still not leaving your side)

He doesn’t hold his temper back with the others when it comes to you for the time being. If he even senses that Mammon, Asmo, or Levi is coming to you with something that can cause trouble, he’s growling at them to leave you alone, horns slowly coming out and tail whipping furiously

However, he tries not to lash out in front of you. He realizes that he lost control with that demon, and how it could have terrified you had you been fully conscious, but he doesn’t want you to think that he’s just a monster. He wants you to continue to treat him like you do now, and not have the image of bashing someone’s bloody body on the floor repeatedly

Speaking of bashing someone, Satan made well on his promise of coming back. The demon thought that avoiding coming back to school would save them, but Satan is a genius, and has many associates that he can sweet talk to get what he wants. It didn’t take much to figure out where they went, and he made sure to get out all of his pent-up frustrations from that fateful day. He felt better when he came home, but he needed to take a shower before he went to see you...

Besides from that, he does appreciate the peace that you do bring him. You just have this aura around you that’s so calming to him, and he needs to steal you away more he realizes

Also you make better cat-themed desserts than the cafe and he can’t risk Beel eating them all again

Asmodeus

He’s shook, and not in the good way

He just had your hand in his, complaining about how you cuticles look so good and his is lacking and how guys have to go to the nail salon after class, and then your hand is jerked from his, your form at the bottom of the stairs

The blood staining your uniform is alarming, but he can’t worry about that now. He’s trying to keep you talking, but you’re already on the verge of passing out

“MC, you can’t sleep yet! We have plans to go to the nail salon remember? And I need you awake so we can talk about what matching color we’re getting! So what color should we get now, MC? MC? MC!”

He’s trying to keep himself from panicking, but he can’t help it! You’re suppose to be smiling and laughing with you, loving him, but you’re unconscious on the ground, and he’s scared

Quickly dials Lucifer and tells him the whole situation, and he’s surprised to find himself blinking back tears

The demon who did this is long gone by the time Lucifer and Diavolo come, but he remembers the face, and he has something exciting planned when he comes face to face with them

Obviously you have to go home, but Asmo is so distraught that he has to go home with you. But when you wake up, prepare to be tackled to the bed with him crying his eyes out. All you can do is try to comfort him and tell him that okay, giving him little kisses on his cheek

But now that the sadness is out of the way (all this crying and worrying is causing him stress wrinkles), it’s time for a makeover/stress relief!

Fashion shows, makeovers, painting nails, face masks, the whole nine yards. All in the comfort of his dazzling room!

It’ll make you both feel and look better, and honestly you two need that right now. It also gives him the opportunity to cover that unappealing bruise. Your beauty outshines it but it’ll be best to cover it up for your and his sake (mainly his)

Every time Asmo sees your bruise, he gets upset and he’s tired of being reminded of what happened. He knows that he’s only loved for his looks, his vanity, but you see more in him than that

You’re...you’re the first person that loves him for him entirely, not because of his features. And when he tells you that he loves you, he honestly means it. He would have never thought he would fall so deep for someone, let alone a human, but...he’s glad that it’s you. He’s happy that it’s you

Which is why he wants to keep you safe and injury-free. Plus, your skin is too pretty and doll-like to be roughed up!

You guys still go out of course, he just has a better eye on you now. This one incident isn’t going to hold him back for picking out new cute outfits for you!

And don’t think he forgot about that demon who caused all of this in the first place. He actually waited by their locker, and convinced them to come with him. But what should Asmo do with them? He could always have them steal Beel’s food, annoy Lucifer, say something horrible about Ruri-Chan, the possibilities are endless! As long as they don’t cause him to get dirty, of course

Or maybe they should do something so severe that they have no reason than to leave RAD forever, or even leave the Devildom forever, depending on how far he’s willing to take it. He’ll do anything if it means you’re safe and he gets to keep you all to himself

Beelzebub

He thought it was an accident at first, you get so excited about things that you stumble over your own feet sometimes, but he’s always there to catch you or pick you up

You keep saying that you’re okay as he’s holding onto you, and after he sits you up he’s confused because he smells blood. His heart is beating a little quicker, and you’re not talking anymore, and your head is drooping, and that’s when he sees the blood running down the side of your face

He’s starting to panic, and he’s so scared that if he tightens his hold against you he’ll just make things worse, that he’ll just hurt you more. But he needs to go find Lucifer, he needs to get you help, you’re feeling so light in his arms and it reminds him of the Celestial War when he witnessed his sister dying-

He hears someone snickering behind him, and that’s when he loses his temper

You’re a part of his family now, someone that he loves and cares for more than he can describe, and they did this to you? Someone who wouldn’t even squish a bug, someone who made him late night snacks without even asking, always there to give him hugs after his games no matter how sweaty, someone that put his family back together and they did this to you?

Lucifer and Mammon struggled to hold him back after they found the demon flung through the wall, laying under the rubble. Beel just kept growling, fangs bared and wings buzzing. He won’t stop trying to get out of their hold, and he keeps inching closer and closer to the demon, and it’s only a matter of time before he finishes what he started

You were already in the infirmary getting treated, and Beel isn’t calming down anytime soon so you were both escorted home

You woke up to Beel upset and pouting. He’s so worried about you that he couldn’t even eat. Beelzebub could not eat, that’s how you knew this was a something serious

Poor Beel was so terrified of hurting you himself that he failed to protect you from the people that do want to hurt you, or worse

But this won’t happen again, he swears, both to you and himself. Move over Mammon, Beel is officially your new bodyguard!

Wherever you go, Beel is right behind you, literally. He’s like your shadow, just bigger and a lot more...menacing. Also isn’t taking any chances with Mammon’s schemes, just carrying you away before he can even open his mouth about another get rich quick plan

Speaking of carrying, you are not allowed to walk down the stairs anymore. As soon as you step near some you find yourself in his arms like it’s nothing. Both at home and at school, it doesn’t matter to him

Also he’s very cautious to have you around people besides his brothers, and the exchange students (but he’s still hesitant about Solomon, anyone who can cook food like him is automatically getting the side eye)

Also you practically moved in with the twins, and it’s nothing compared to the sleepovers before. Belphie sleeps easier, Beel’s stomach is satisfied (eating your homemade sweets with you is better than everything combined at Hell’s Kitchen, and trust me he knows) he feels all warm inside, and you’re protected. Everyone’s happy!

Beel is a sweet guy, just don’t come in between his family or his food. After that whole incident with the demon, everyone has come to understand that, especially after seeing just how much damage he caused both to the demon and the school in so little time...

Belphegor

If he was sleepy before, he’s completely awake now

You’re holding the side of your head, and he can see the blood seeping through your fingers, groaning in pain. You keep trying to say that you’re okay, but your words are starting to slur and he’s getting nervous, he’s getting scared

It’s reminding him too much of his worst mistake, of what he did to you, when he murdered-

No. He doesn’t need to be thinking about that right now, especially when the person who did this is bragging about it while your body is slumped over. Right there, he knows what exactly needs to be done

Belphie was already in front of them before they even registered it, and didn’t give him any time to form an excuse. His claws were already at their throat, inching deeper and deeper the more they swallowed

“I should just slit your throat now, it’ll be easy and not a lot of work. But you deserve much worse than that. You’ll wish I did by the end of this.”

After a tap to the demon’s forehead, they just collapsed before him, unmoving. He didn’t even look down when he stepped over them (or rather stepped on them) to get to you. You’re passed out, but still breathing. You can’t stay here like this, and he refuses to tell Diavolo or Lucifer. He’ll figure something out, maybe Satan has some books in his room on what to do...

When you woke up, you found yourself wrapped in blankets and Belphie sleeping beside you, arms wrapped tight. You were confused, when did you get home? You remember walking with him down the stairs, but everything was blurry after that. What happen-

“You’re always thinking so hard MC, you’ll never be able to get good rest if you keep that up. But Satan did say to check on you every couple of hours, so I guess it’s fine. And quit touching your head!”

“Oh, sorry Belphie, I didn’t mean to-”

“Tch, how annoying...”

But he’s lying. Even as he’s carefully re-wrapping the bandages, he’s relieved that you’re awake, that your eyes are still full of life, not like the dullness that he saw that fateful night

When Lucifer finds you he is not happy with Belphie, but he doesn’t care and tells him that everything is already under control and that he isn’t needed. Belphie didn’t miss the scowl that he sent his way, but he just smirked in response. You didn’t need Lucifer as Belphie is already taking care of you, as it should be

You know how he always carries around his favorite pillow? Yeah he’s doing that with you basically, minus the carrying. You’re practically attached to his side, wherever he goes you’re either right there with him or in his room, which is mainly just you two lazing around or sleeping (as usual)

Honestly, the only demons who he’s okay with disturbing you two is Beel and maybe Satan. Beel because that’s his twin and it’s his room too, and Satan only if he’s checking on you medically or if he has some new ideas to mess with Lucifer. Everyone else is just trying to bother you and be annoying, and you don’t need that

Of course he blames himself for this! How is he suppose to keep you safe, to make up for his mistake? But then it clicks

It’s not the fact that he’s weak, people think that he’s weak. But he realizes that this is fine, he’ll use that to his advantage.

Diavolo is upset and Lucifer is running out of excuses for him, but Belphie just plays stupid and says he can’t remember how to remove it (even though he does). Let the demon lose some more sleep until they learn their lesson, whether it’s from the constant nightmares or from sleep deprivation trying to stay awake to avoid said nightmares. He’ll remove it when he feels like it, and he doesn’t see that happening anytime soon

Let people think the Avatar of Sloth is weak, that he’s not a threat, and he can show them exactly how wrong they are. Better yet, this demon can be the perfect example, and many more if they become a bother to you (and him)

You’re too nice MC, too delicate. You treat him so good, like he’s not a demon, like he’s not the monster who took your life, and he has to thank you for that somehow. He feels like whatever he does won’t be enough for the kindness you give him, but protecting you from others who used to be like him could be a good start

Also now he can hog all of your head pats and cuddles for himself, and he doesn’t feel bad at all. Everyone else had their time with you when he was locked up, so he’s finally got the opportunity to be selfish

Diavolo

First of all...this demon is dumb enough to harm you in front of him??? The Demon LORD???? The FUTURE KING OF HELL??!

They have more than just a death wish

It all happened so quick, he just crossed paths with you in the hallways and started to ask about your day (and maybe invite you for a small tea date after school) but he didn’t even get the chance to open his mouth

One second he saw your eyes light up and hand extended to excitedly wave, then he saw your fragile form tumbling down the stairs

Barbatos was soon called to his side as Diavolo saw the red coating his palms and you barely staying conscious, trying to say that you’re okay and not to worry

See...he feared that this would be a problem. While Diavolo is a very kind and understanding ruler, there are still some demons out there who think he’s too lenient, too soft. But that’s where people are mistaken. Diavolo is kind, but do not mistake his kindness for weakness

He felt his anger rising, his demeanor starting to crack, but he set aside his emotions. You’re his first priority, and he needs to make sure that you’re okay! He’s still a ruler, and you’re his responsibility (and first love)

However, he made sure that Barbatos took the demon who did this and kept them in the dungeon until he was done treating you. He won’t let this go unpunished, he can’t and he won’t

You’re an important part of the exchange program, and you’re most important to him, and he’s upset with himself that you got hurt. You’re so delicate, and you don’t deserve any of this happening to you, but what can he do? While he trusts the brothers to keep you safe, he wants to keep an eye on you personally, but how?

Then it struck him

You liked to stay in the castle, always smiling and having fun whenever you spent time with him there, so why not relocate you there?? It’ll be like an extended sleepover/retreat with just you two!! You guys can do all of your favorite activities and won’t have to worry about going home because you won’t have to leave!! Why didn’t he think of this sooner?!

The brothers are very upset with this incident, and even more so when he announced this. Diavolo decided that your condition needed to be monitored closely, and since he’s the person directly in charge of the exchange program AND the ruler over the Devildom, there was no room to argue. You weren’t going to stay in the castle forever, just until he deemed it right to return to the HoL

Which would be...some time soon, maybe. He’s not really worried about that now, his number 1 concern is you after all!

You’re getting the royal treatment, literally. This is the chance that he gets to pamper you without interruptions and he is not wasting it!

You kept trying to convince him that you’re fine, but he wasn’t hearing any of it, especially after he sees the nasty bruise that was left. “MC, please! You still need to rest. How about I have Barbatos bring us some tea to help, and we can even have the royal staff bring us some outfits of your choosing if you like? Oo, we can even have our portrait painted!”

“Dia, I promise that I’m fine, you have more things to worry about than me-”

“Nonsense, MC. You’re what’s important to me, now and always. Don’t ever forget that.”

Even finished it with a hand kiss, UGH he really is a Prince Charming

Once you did return to RAD bruise free, Diavolo, being the gentleman that he is, walked with you everywhere in the beginning. Coming into the building, walking to class, lunch, even to the student council meeting, he was by your side. But he couldn’t avoid his duties forever (unfortunately), but he always made up for lost time afterwards

You never realized that when he wasn’t with you, someone else always was. Whether it be Lucifer who miraculously had spare time, or Barbatos who decided to escort you back to the castle to try a new recipe for his Lord, it was always one of them that stayed with you

Also, it never dawned on you why people were starting to be so nice to you. You thought it was because of what happened, not paying attention to how tense they would get, the fear in their eyes. You did notice that the demon who caused your fall never came back to class, and their desk is starting to collect dust...

When you did ask Diavolo about it, he just pat your head and said that what happened was unacceptable and that the demon has been dealt with accordingly.

You don’t need to hear about what really happened to them, he doesn’t want to scare you or taint your innocence! But he doesn’t mind if anyone else hears it, he’ll be more than happy to explain in full detail what happened and what will happen to demons that even think about attempting to harm you or think that he’s “too soft”. They won’t think he’s a soft ruler after that

Diavolo is a very sweet man, one that treats you as if you’re ruling by his side as his partner and one that you never have to be scared of, but even you didn’t miss the deadly glint in his eyes whenever he spoke about that demon...

But enough about that, he wants to try that new recipe that you made just for him!

He enjoys the time that he gets to spend with you, and after this, you’ll be in his company a lot more. He can’t risk having this happen again to his love- I MEAN favorite exchange student right?

[nevertheless-moving]

Pop Star Wars AU: Waking

Drabble set in this au which I wrote way back a few weeks ago.

Back then, I had only recently decided to look up my tumblr password for a third attempt at being an appreciative fandom community member instead of just trying to think really hard at internet strangers, and maybe shout into the void a little. (But there’s like, several people here now??? How did you even find me on the internet? )

Anyway I have since learned how to spell Anakin’s name and insert links. Also that if you resize your window while typing directly into tumblr everything disappears.

Self Indulgent Crack Pop Star Wars Time Travel Fixit (star wars au no 3):

After several years of exile in the Jundland Wastes, Ben Kenobi had not quite finished mentally unpacking the decades of mistakes, grief, and failure that had led him to the desert. It was the work of a lifetime, and some days were harder than others. But after several forays in and out of alcoholism, spice addiction, and every other form of geographically-accessible self-destruction, he could at least say that some days were easier. 

The process was no doubt made more difficult by the abject solitude. Unlike the chaotic years that constituted the fall of the Republic, he had all too much time to think, and no one around to share his thoughts with. He closed his eyes in the dark of his hut, thoughts drifting between past and future. 

The past was as ugly and lovely as ever. The larger future didn’t look much better, but he could find some joy in the thought of tomorrow and fresh bantha milk when the herd roamed near. Owen was always much less begrudging of his presence when he came with an offering, and Beru would likely invite him to stay for noon meal where he would share in fresh cheese as Luke rambled about his plans to fix-up a junked speeder bike.

The thought of Luke’s happiness at the treat allowed him enough peace of mind to meditate more deeply.

He carefully broke off a piece of unfair-bitterness from his larger loving-grief. The bitterness he released into the force. The grief he turned over and soothed until its edges dissolved. He accepted it, now smoother if not smaller, laying it to rest alongside his hard-earned wisdom and unfinished poetry.

Tired, but fractionally lighter, Ben Kenobi drifted to sleep.

He opened his eyes to the first rays of daylight peeking in his temple chambers.

The room was intimately familiar. For a few years they were Ashoka’s, on the rare occasion she found herself temple-side and in want of privacy but not complete solitude. For a solid decade before her, the chambers were Anakin’s, though he was quick enough to accept the common room couch when Ashoka entered their life. And before that...they were his. That was his model rocket on the shelf, and his astronomical mobile hanging from the ceiling, and his robes scattered on the floor, though they hadn’t been arranged as such in this room since his apprenticeship with Qui-Gon. He sat up. 

Glad he had put energy into meditation last night, he used the lingering clarity of mind to try and work through possible explanations. 

Vivid Dream? No a quick pinch to his inner elbow debunked that, as well as the fact that the morning taste in his mouth was more the minty tang of denti-cleaner, rather than the saltiness of dried meat which he had grown accustomed to.

Hallucinogenic mushroom flashback? Possible, though it still wouldn’t explain the detail of physical sensations he felt, running his hand from the temple-spun linens on his bed to the warm-carved wood of his bedside table. He stood and did a perfect forward flip in place. Shockingly his knees didn’t ache at impact, but a drug induced hallucination of this intensity would have some sort of impact on his equilibrium, and he felt perfectly balanced, at least physically.

Force vision seemed most likely. Sinking into cross-legged meditation, he gradually lowered his mental shields. There was no whisper of Vader or Palpatine anywhere near Hutt space at this time, so the risk of reaching out was both manageable and necessary. Rather than the pure energy he personally associated with intense visions, he felt gradients of light, echoing ripples of emotions, and the unique solidity of force-imbued stone walls.

Heart beginning to race as reality set in, Ben concluded that he was, indeed, in the Jedi temple on Courascant. Even if he had suffered a complete psychotic break, his force sense couldn’t lie with such crystal clear detail. Confused unreality mixed with images of the past and future, sure. But this was the temple. It just was. 

He couldn’t make sense of it. Even if he had somehow been found, drugged, and transported to the heart of the empire, the rooms as he sensed them didn’t exist anymore. The contents were lost or burnt, the stone walls destroyed and rebuilt into a wing of the Imperial Palace.

Obi-Wan sank deeper into the force and reached out further, searching for he answers. In general, the force felt light, the shroud of the darkside was a hazy irritation in the distance, not a smothering blanket. The manifold wounds in the force formed by senseless war and destruction were absent. Also gone were the tang of grief and loss that he had begun to associate with the temple’s signature even before- even before the purge.

The temple was also full to the brim with tens of thousands of lights in the living force. He reached out to them incredulously, nudging many just to feel a living, sentient response. The last time he remembered feeling so many Jedi all in the temple at the same time was...well, when he still lived in this room. The nearest living force sensitive presence was achingly familiar, though notably and unquestioningly living. He could feel the presence moving nearer and retreated, pulling himself fully back into his body.

The only explanation that fit was that he had suddenly, miraculously, inexplicably traveled back in time. 

He half ran to his closet, opening the door with a yank to reveal a full length mirror. A once-familiar, 25-year old padawan stared back with visible shock. Of course his knees didn’t hurt, this body hadn’t yet been broken and abused by knighthood, war, and Tatooine. His hands examined the smooth chin, the unwrinkled forehead, and even the terrible, terrible haircut.

Obi-wan startled at a knock at his door, freezing in place. 

“Padawan?” Came Qui-Gon Jinn’s voice softly, “I don’t intend to pull you out of meditation prematurely, but is there a particular reason you were sprawling over the temple this morning? You startled me somewhat. To be perfectly honest, I think you might have alarmed a few people around the temple, I’ve already received messages from council telling me to reign in my padawan before he hurts himself.” 

Qui-Gon sounded more amused than reprimanding, and he paused, clearly waiting for an answer. 

Obi-Wan’s jaw locked up. What could he say? How could he even to begin to explain what had happened? He sank to floor, head pressed to the ground and tears silent streaming down his face. All he could do was offer to the force were words, the feelings could come later Thank you. Thank youThankyouthankyouTHANKYOU. 

For whatever reason, the force had granted him a second chance. Regardless if it was intended as punishment, gift, or inexplicable chance, he would build a better future than the one he left behind. 

“Padawan?” Qui-Gon knocked again, sounding concerned, “Are you alright? If you don’t answer I’m going to have to come in there.”

And all at once he had flipped back to not enough time to think and too many people needing his attention.

Obi-Wan managed to open his mouth to call out some meaningless assurance, intent on gaining more time to process the fantastical situation. Much to his surprise, what came out was a strangled, keening sob. Qui-Gon burst through the door. 

Obi-Wan realized, with a little embarrassment, that he was curled up practically into a ball on the floor, tears streaming in a shocking waste of water. It was probably not the most dignified, nor the most reassuring position for Qui-Gon to walk in on. 

Qui-Gon rushed to his side, pulling him up by the shoulders to frantically look him over. “What happened?” he demanded, “Are you hurt? Did something go wrong while you were meditating and you were trying to reach out for help?”

Obi-Wan smiled at the barrage of questions. He had almost forgotten that on the rare occasions when Qui-Gon’s perfect Jedi serenity broke, he became somewhat counterproductively intense. 

“I’m alright, Master,” he tried to say, but what came out was more of a croaking, “MNNrlerR.” 

This predictably, only increased Qui-Gon’s concern.

To Obi-Wan’s deep consternation, he was dragged by Qui-Gon to the healer’s wing. He remained quiet during the examination, not wanting to risk whatever was compromising his ability to speak. It could be readjusting to his younger body, or a manifestation of the admittedly great emotional shock he was still experiancing. Or simple lack of practice- it had been several weeks since he had last heard the sound of his own voice, from a certain point of view.

After finding no physical cause for concern, Master Vyr asked Qui-Gon to wait outside.

“Padawan Kenobi?” The Tortugan healer asked gently. “Your Master seems quite insistent that something is wrong. Would you like to discuss what the problem seems to be?”

Obi-Wan cleared his throat and was relieved when his voice came out smooth and under his control, “I’m alight, Master. I apologize for disruption. I experienced a... particularly strong vision when I woke up this morning, and temporarily lost control over myself. I’m already feeling more stable. I believe I simply need to meditate on what I’ve seen. My master unfortunately came in while I was dealing with some of the emotional aftermath.

“I see,” Vyr responded. “Did you experience this vision before or after your expansive foray into the force? I understand a surprising swath of the temple felt your presence press against them this morning.”

“I reached out after,” Obi-Wan admitted. “My vision was...particularly dark. I felt the need to ground myself with the presence of other Jedi. I’ll make certain to apologize to anyone I may have startled.”

Eventually he was cleared with the strict instruction to stick with shallow meditation for the next few days as well as a strong recommendation to seek out Master Yoda, Sifo-Dryfas, or one of the other Master known to experience visions. 

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan walked back to their quarters together in a peaceful quiet. It wasn’t until the door clicked behind them that Qui-Gon rounded on his padawan.

“What vision could possibly have left you in such distress?”

Obi-Wan walked to the kitchenette to make tea, stalling before answering. “You have always told me to stay focused on the present, Master”

Qui-Gon frowned. “Yes, however this...vision seems to have altered you somehow. You are grieved by it.”

“Yes. But what I grieve may never come to pass.” 

It won’t come to pass. I might not know his every tool, but I do know Sideous’s biggest secret, and I WILL stop him.

“Will you not tell me what you saw?” Qui-Gon asked, sounding somewhat hurt.

Obi-Wan poured the hot water carefully, feeling torn. If he told Qui-Gon everything... would he believe him? Perhaps, eventually but...what would become of Anakin, still just a boy? And the moment he knew of Palpatine’s evil...he knew Qui-Gon. He would favor the direct approach, underestimating the sheer breadth of the trap the sith had laid (Obi-Wan himself lived through it and only began to understand long after it had closed).

“I saw...a great shadow fall over the republic.”

He sat at the table, relishing in the simple pleasure of pouring a cup for Qui-Gon and himself from a shared pot.

Qui-Gon cradled his mug in his hands. “I see. Nothing specific?”

“Your death. At the hands of a tool of darkness. You ran ahead...” Obi-Wan took a scorching sip to stop himself. “It was foolish. Unnecessary. And I was forced to fight alone without you.

Qui-Gon set the tea down to stroke his beard in thought. “Well. I have no great desire to die. While I make no promises, I will endeavor to avoid leaving you behind ‘unnecessarily.’”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan replied, over sincere. 

They drank in peaceful silence. It was interrupted by a shrill noise from Qui-Gon’s comm.

“I’ve just received a personal request from the Chancellor to immediately assist in negotiations with a Trade Federation blockade around Naboo. Are you feeling up to it?”

“You know, I think I am”

[kurowrites]

Five Times Lan Zhan (Kind Of) Proposed to Wei Ying

Find the earlier posts here. 

---

V: The Fifth Time (Or, A Complete Failure)

“Ooookay,” Wei Ying said, nonplussed, when Lan Zhan suddenly appeared in front of him and proceeded to curl up in Wei Ying’s lap determinedly.

Wei Ying naturally opened his arms and held onto Lan Zhan so that he wouldn’t fall off the sofa, but he was also a multitasker, so he could glare at the people surrounding him at the same time.

“So, who got Lan Zhan drunk this time?” he asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Wen Ning shifted nervously, but Wen Ning shifted nervously all the time, so that didn’t count. Wei Ying ignored him.

Mianmian, on the other hand, simply shrugged when Wei Ying trained his gaze on her.

“I think he confused the jello shots with dessert,” she said, far too nonchalantly for Wei Ying’s tastes.

“And you let him eat them?” he cried.

Mianmian rolled her eyes.

“I wasn’t watching what he was doing at all times. I’m not his custodian. That’s your job, really.”

“Oooh my god, Mianmian,” Wei Ying sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “I think I’m pretty close to getting murdered by Lan Huan in a dark alleyway or something. This can’t keep happening.”

“Maybe it would help if you had an actual conversation with your boytoy,” Mianmian suggested, looking like she didn’t really care either way. “I’ve got to say, things are getting pretty ridiculous by now. I saw what happened during Wen Qing’s birthday.”

“Excuse me?” Wei Ying cried. “Lan Zhan is not a boytoy!”

He ignored the part about Wen Qing’s birthday, because nothing had happened during Wen Qing’s birthday. No one had been there when Lan Zhan had promised him to get him a better bow than the one he’d already given him, so no one knew about that one. And know one knew that Wei Ying had kept that bow, even thought it had been a pain to get off.

Mianmian rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Boyfriend, husband, loverboy. Tell him to check in with you before he eats or drinks anything at parties.”

“He’s not a child, you know,” Wei Ying insisted, pouting. “He can take care of himself.”

Mianmian sent a distinctly judgemental look towards Lan Zhan, who was firmly snuggled into Wei Ying’s lap.

“I can see that.”

“Naysayers everywhere!” Wei Ying complained loudly and insistently, but if he were honest, he had already given up. Lan Zhan was clearly done for the night, and Wei Ying couldn’t keep sitting with him draped over his lap indefinitely.

He gently wriggled his legs to see what kind of reaction would come from Lan Zhan.

The response was a noise not unlike one a grouchy old cat would make. Clearly the noise of someone who didn’t want to be moved.

“Come on, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said, trying to sound encouraging. “I’m going to take you home, you’ll feel much better then. Your bed is missing you.”

Lan Zhan made another noise that communicated his displeasure, but he partly removed himself from Wei Ying’s lap and blinked up at Wei Ying with tired eyes.

“Aw, those shots did a number on you, huh,” Wei Ying cooed. “C’mon, let’s get you home before you fall asleep here. That sofa is too dirty for you to sleep on.”

Wei Ying managed to get Lan Zhan to get off him and the sofa, and Lan Zhan ended up following him out of the room with only little encouragement. To make his point, Wei Ying made sure to stick his tongue out at Mianmian as a parting shot.

“Go take care of your loverboy!” Mianmian shouted after him, but it was hardly audible through the music of the party, so Wei Ying elected to ignore it.

He breathed a sigh of relief once they were out the door and on their way to Lan Zhan’s dorm.

“Hey, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said, taking hold of Lan Zhan’s arm to steer him into the right direction. “I think you need to be a little more careful. Getting drunk at these parties is certainly not doing you any favours.”

In all honestly, Wei Ying didn’t believe that Lan Zhan was enjoying these parties very much. He didn’t enjoy noise, he didn’t enjoy the chaos and the crush of unfamiliar people, and on top of that he would wake up with a hangover and no memory every time. Lan Zhan had told him once that he went to these parties because Wei Ying was there, but that alone couldn’t make up for the fact that Lan Zhan didn’t enjoy a single bit of the evening.

In addition, Wei Ying would stay over at Lan Zhan’s every time Lan Zhan got drunk, and Lan Zhan would feel obliged to provide Wei Ying with breakfast after staying over because he was a good host.

Wei Ying did generally enjoy the breakfasts (there was absolutely nothing to complain about the combination of Lan Zhan and tasty food), but delicious food was not a good enough reason to keep this thing going. Not when it came with Lan Zhan getting drunk. Wei Ying needed to put an end to it, he knew that. Especially before Lan Huan got involved.

“Okay,” Wei Ying said to himself as he steered Lan Zhan through the door of his room and to his bed. “This is the last time I’m doing this. No more getting drunk at parties from now on, Lan Zhan. Your wild days are over.”

He poured Lan Zhan onto the bed, and Lan Zhan looked up at him with tired eyes and a distinct pout on his lips.

“Hey little bunny,” Wei Ying said with a teasing smile, and poked his cute little nose. (He had to take his chances when they presented themselves. Poking a fully conscious Lan Zhan was unfathomable.) “What do you have to be pouty about?”

“I am a burden to Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said morosely.

“Aw, noooo,” Wei Ying cooed, poking Lan Zhan again, this time in his cheek. “I’m just worrying because it’s not like you to get drunk so often. And as funny as it is to see you get all drunk and snuggly, I think I prefer sober Lan Zhan.”

Drunk Lan Zhan didn’t seem to be satisfied with that answer, his pout still prominent on his face.

“Sleep,” Wei Ying cajoled him. “And then tomorrow, as much as I don’t want to, we can talk about it once you’re actually sober.”

Lan Zhan tried to sit up, probably to protest, but Wei Ying had already put the cover over him and tucked him in, so he only ended up wriggling a little.

“I wanted to give Wei Ying a present,” he pouted (again).

“It’s not my birthday, I don’t need any presents,” Wei Ying assured him. “Also, you already gave me a present. The bow, you remember? I still have it. But if you really want to give me a present, you can give it to me tomorrow, okay?”

He was pretty sure that Lan Zhan would have forgotten all about any presents by tomorrow anyway, so it was a safe promise to make.

“Hn,” Lan Zhan agreed, and finally settled into his blankets.

“So obedient!” Wei Ying exclaimed, laughing. “Night night, Lan Zhan.”

“Good night, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan murmured. “Will show you tomorrow.”

Wei Ying smiled down at Lan Zhan, and watched him fall asleep.

How many repetitions of the same scene did this make now? Wei Ying bringing Lan Zhan to bed and watching over him as he fell asleep?

At least this time, Lan Zhan hadn’t suggested he was planning to marry Wei Ying in order to get frisky with him. What would it need anyway for Lan Zhan to get frisky with anyone? It was difficult to imagine something like that. Lan Zhan was always so stoic, it was hard imagining him madly in love with anyone.  

Wei Ying sat on the edge of the bed for a while, watching over Lan Zhan until he was sure that Lan Zhan was asleep. Then he snatched Lan Zhan’s little plush rabbit off the nightstand.

Wei Ying had given it to him as a joke, because it had reminded him of Lan Zhan for some reason, but Lan Zhan, far from throwing it away, seemed to treasure the little toy.

“Ah, little rabbit,” he sighed, squeezing the plushie gently. “What are we going to do about Lan Zhan? Your master is a bit of a wild child recently.”

The plush rabbit, predictably, only looked back at him with solemn black eyes.

“I’m a little worried about him,” Wei Ying confessed. “He seems to have a lot on his mind right now. And I’m just one lowly Wei Ying, I don’t really know what to do with him.”

Again, the plush rabbit was silent.

“I mean, he barely acknowledges that we’re friends, so I guess it’s not really my place to meddle.”

He laughed to himself.

“But Lan Zhan is so fun to meddle with, so I can’t help it.”

Wei Ying put the plush toy back and made himself a nest on the overly comfy light blue sofa in Lan Zhan’s dorm room (Lan Zhan had the money for a sofa in a dorm room, damn him). Before he wrapped himself in the blanket and fell asleep, he thought about Mianmian and the others who must still be at the party, but he felt zero impulse to return there. He could always go to another party, after all. And he was determined to talk to Lan Zhan tomorrow morning, as much as he didn’t want to have this discussion at all.

[mxvladdy]

Hi, I love your writings 💜 and wanted to suggest a prompt, but if it won't hit you or if your requests are closed than feel free to ignore.

What if MC will forget the brother and that they are in relationship (it can be as side effect of some spell /potion etc, but it will last for quite some time, no one knows how long). How brothers will react on that? What they will do to make MC fall in love again, or will they do anything at all? Or they decide that it's the chance to change everything? What if MC won't love them again? I don't know if that can be angsty (I want some angst), or you can do whatever style you find appropriate. Anyway, if you don't feel like doing for 7 brothers you can do only for brothers of your choice (who you feel comfortable to write about, but maybe Lucifer, Mammon and Beel?? ).

Thank you! And have a good day or night!

A/N: 80000 years and a day later I post lol ;.;. Sorry for the wait! I tried something new with this, hope you like :)

So I was going to drop all three at the same time but it turned into 20+ pages of work. So I will post in 3 separate parts since they all turned into beefy boys... Much like their counterparts >:)

Hope you like it!!!

Part One of Three: Lucifer

Magic is a beautiful and powerful thing. It permeates the Devildom like an eternal fog. For the residents, it is as common as breathing. From the strongest of their kind down to the lowest inhabitants, it is integral to their culture and daily life. Mistakes and accidents happen daily with young and old alike learning or experimenting. Magical rebounds and mishaps mean very little to them, especially the brothers. From the Celestial Realms down, they have seen it all.

Sometimes they forget that to you, magic can be a volatile and dangerous.

The crackle of energy and the acrid taste of sour magic on his tongue are his only warnings before things went south. He reaches for you, strong arms moving to shield you from the blowback of energy discharging around you both. Lucifer crouches, turning his back to the explosion to cover you from the debris and dust raining down. The rebound of the failed spell washes over him for a moment turning his stomach on impact. A heavy miasma coats the room. It weighs down his wings momentarily before disappearing as quickly as it had come.

Once the dust settles, the room fills with light-hearted teasing and jabs at the inept caster. Whatever chastising remark he had stuck to his tongue. When he looks down at you the air seizes his lungs in horror. You were heavy and unresponsive in his arms, eyes closed and face slack. Physically, he could see nothing wrong with you, no hair unkempt or dust on your uniform. He shakes you trying in vain to rouse you.

He doesn’t remember fleeing the room with you clutched tight to his chest nor the shouts of his confused brothers all he could focus on was your limp body cradled in his. You weren’t waking up. None of his magic was working, and you were still sleeping. It was like looking down at his brothers all over again. The feeling of dread, of helplessness, had him staggering. You were like his little Lilith all over again, another failure in his unending life span.

The healer's answers do nothing but anger him. Diavolo’s weak speculations drive him into a frenzy. Wait, they want him to wait. For how long was anyone's guess. They say that you just need rest, the human body is unaccustomed to such stresses. That though your body is weak, a human’s spirit is strong. You’ll recover-he had to trust that you would heal on your own. Trust… he had so little of that left to begin with, but he had he gave to you.

He couldn’t lose you. Couldn’t lose this small flicker of hope you brought into his life, of happiness. He didn’t want to be alone again.

So he waits, a permanent sentinel by your bedside. He sits in silence stuck with his sins. His rough hewn palms cover your small hand to warm your cooling finger tips. He strokes them with callused fingers. He contemplates all the little things he could have done differently while he waits. Hells, what he should have done differently. Spells at the best of times were unruly and dangerous and in the hands of a novice? He shakes his head squeezing your hand. He was so stupid to have let you take that course. Why hadn’t he told that weak pissant of a demon off for trying such an incantation? Or at least to take it outside. Was he that bad of a protector? Of a lover? Deep down he wants to be angry at you. That this somehow was all your fault, with your puny human constitution and defenses. He wants to blame you but the moment passes with a gut-twisting sense of guilt and almost shame.

The days move on unceasingly, the clock on your wall mocking him with every steady tick and turn of the hand. With each moon that passes his simmering anger and wounded pride cools to an ice cold fear in his veins. The healers stopped showing up daily, they were at a loss like the rest of them.

No one would say it, least of all around him, but he heard it travel down the halls like an unwelcome guest. The whispered sympathy, the soft admissions of acceptance. He blocks them out, his world narrowing down to nothing but your icy hand and weak pulse. Your room begins to turn into his. His paperwork fills your desk, while he holds meeting over the phone. One hand clutching his phone to his ear and his other always touching you. No one but him is going to take care of you. He refuses help, turning down Diavolo’s increasing offers and pleas of support.

He turns them down each and every time. He will take care of you.

Yet, no matter how much he tends to you and researches you remain inert.

It’s maddening, he was suffocating under the weight. Finally he tips. One night drunk and desperate in his destroyed room he does the last thing he could think of.

The hardwood of his bedroom is unforgiving under his knees. The cold of it soaks through his pants and the harsh grain digs into his skin. But he doesn’t care, he wasn’t looking for absolution anymore, he was begging for your salvation.

It burns him bowing like this. His pride lashes out, roaring like the untamed beast it was as he dives deep searching within himself to find the tattered remains of his former self. Each second with his eyes closed and head bent was tortuous as his pleas fill the oppressive silence of the room. No matter the discomfort of the moment he can only think of you. No cost was too steep to have you open your eyes again.

Lucifer should have known going back to his father would be a mistake. Nothing was ever simple with them, everything was by their rules and their way. Not even being the once most favored son could fix that. Your eyes open, sure. They are hazy with confusion, but also bright and full of life. You were back.

Papers forgotten Lucifer approaches you like he would a wounded animal. He stares in disbelief for a moment before succumbing to his need to hold you. “Amata-” He breathes out in relief into your neck squeezing you closer to him. Lucifer pulls away when he notices you not embracing him back. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. You just took me by surprise is all.” You rub your eyes and smile wearily. “What did I do to deserve such a good morning hug?”

His smile fades, hearts sinking. “Do you not remember?”

“Remember?” Hmmm. You look around you at the clutter of your room. “I- remember being in class, then you over me.” Something must have happened, but for the life of you, you couldn’t recall. He fills you in leaving small blanks hoping to see some recognition in your bewitching eyes. But you sit, nodding along taking his word as gospel truth. “Wow.” You lean back on your pillows. To be asleep for so long, you had so much work to catch up on. “Thank you for looking out for me.”

There was an odd look in his eyes before he nods, rising to his feet. “Of course… for you, anything.” He flees then, choking back a sea of emotions to go fetch a healer to look you over. It was as he expected. You were whole and healthy again, back to your old wonderful self. Except for him. Did you truly remember none of him? Have you really forgotten how he held you at night when you were able to tear him from his works.

How could you forget the words he would whisper to you as you drifted off long after the candles had been snuffled out, the sweat had cooled on your skin, and your limbs loose and tangled with his? Would you ever remember the way he would watch you at school? How he would search for you and watch you with vigilante and hungry eyes. You were not his little lamb anymore. Even after everything he had lost you.

It was what he bargained for with his father it seemed.

He calls a meeting soon after informing his brothers and the Prince of your condition without telling them of his speculations as to why. “We will say nothing.” He speaks standing rigidly while the room erupts with confusion around him.

“Why not tell them?” Beelzebub asked brows drawn low in concern.

“And say what?” Lucifer rubs at his nose pinching the bridge tightly already feeling a dull throbbing growing underneath. “What would it change?” He leaves it at that and retreats to his room. He looks at his dusty chambers and broken furniture from his explosive temper. It is so cold again without you there. This is how it must be. The thought brings a broken whine from his lips. Tt soaks through his leather gloved hand, refusing to be shoved down. He didn’t want to believe he was so forgettable, that something as intimate as his trust and love was so weak in your soul. He had thought surely he had ingrained himself deeper than that. You were in his mind.

He turns to his private libraries that night, looking for any scrap of information he could find. Perhaps the threads of him were there within you, maybe they just needed to be mended. He often forgot how malleable the human mind was, how easily things can just slip from them. Each book on the topic started promisingly enough before piddling off to a dead-end or debunked hypothesis.

He hunts down the student that had fired the spell. If he knew the original purpose of the spell maybe he could recreate the reaction? No, yet another dead end.

He comes to realize one night sitting hunched over on the grimy floor that either your mixed blood had altered the spell's intentions or the fact that since you were not in your original timeline it had changed something deeper within you that none of them had taken into consideration. Or, perhaps-just maybe he truly did make a deal with Father.

Devil below, he hoped that wasn’t true. How ironic it would be that the first time they had heard his pleas to only answer it with more pain and punishment. Either way, he must accept this...eventually.

“You know, if you keep frowning like that it’ll leave permit winkles.” Lucifer ignores his brother, not glancing up from his journals to entertain him. He had recently found more old tomes deep in his studies. “Luci.” Multi-colored nails block his view of his documents.

“Move Asmodeus. I will not ask again.”

Asmo frowns but moves his hand back to his hip. “You need to breathe brother. Take a minute for yourself.” Lucifer snorts dismissively, flipping to the next page. Asmo sighs deeply, his old bones rattling with the heavy gust of air. “You know you won’t find anything in there. We’ve all tried, you know? Read up on fruitless leads and scoured the depths of the catacombs too. Satan’s hands are a mess from rummaging through his books.” He swallows thickly. “Perhaps it is time.”

“Time for what?” Lucifer rises to his impressive height towering over his smaller brethren. “I do not like what you are implying Sakhr.” Asmo flinches, he hates that damn name. He calms the simmering rage underneath his well kept skin. Lucifer was hurting, he lashes out blindly when he is. He always suffers alone.

“I’m not implying anything. We just want-” Lucifer laughs, the hollow sound pulls at the emptiness within Lust’s heart.

“What would you know of my wants?” His ruby eyes lock with Asmo’s. It was a mistake. Lucifer’s presence was imposing at the best of times, but as mad as he was now it was a knee jerk reaction from Asmo to put his guard up. It was a strong defensive mechanism that Asmo took special care not to let slip, but as Lucifer approaches him shoulder hunching and chest puffing up in anger. It took only a moment for his defenses to take over, eyes locking Lucifer saw exactly what he wanted reflected back at him.

He didn’t know what Lucifer saw but he could see the absolute agony etching into his older brother's glassy eyes with each second. Asmo steps back breaking eye contact with a gasp, the trance between them breaking. “I-I’m sorry!” He trembles.

Lucifer says nothing but raises a shaking finger while he collects himself. Finally, he looks up, face impassive once more. He shakes his head and points to the two chairs in front of his desk. A wordless order that Asmo takes. Asmodeus watches Lucifer busy himself with a decanter, broad back turned to him. “You meant no harm,” Lucifer says, voice tight. He turns back with two glasses in hand. “ I-my aggression was unnecessary.” He offers Asmo a glass before sitting back in his throne-like chair with a grunt. They drink in silence.

Asmo swirls the spicy drink around his tongue thinking hard. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. He thought he could make things better by offering a shoulder or ear, perhaps tell Lucifer that you were doing well. You didn't seem to notice the hole at the table or in the classroom where Lucifer used to join you and the rest of them to eat or study. They had missed seeing him look so at peace around them. Everything had reverted back to like it was when you first arrived between the two of you, and it was affecting everyone. “Talk to me?” Lucifer blinks.

“And say what?” He peers at his empty glass before grabbing the decanter. “I’m fine? I have meetings piling up and I frankly don’t give a damn anymore. Or the fact that I have yet to cancel the table I had reserved for our anniversary dinner?” His last words waver dangerously before he burns them away with a large gulp of his drink. He sees the look in Asmo’s honey-colored eyes when he looks up. “I don’t need pity.”

Asmodous sniffs, waving away the thought. “Please. We all know better than that. I just want to check on you, and perhaps give you an idea?”

“What idea could you have that I have not thought of?” He asks curiously. Asmo lights up leaning in.

“What if we’ve been going about this the wrong way? We’ve been looking at magic to solve this when the answer was in front of us the whole time. Humans aren’t used to magic, so why look to it for the solution?”

“I don’t follow.” Lucifer puts his glass down leaning back in his chair. Was science what he needed to look at? He had tried that, had talked to human doctors and surgeons that owed him “favors”. They were as unhelpful as the rest.

“We are thinking like demons! We have to think like a human, woo them again. You did it once, surely their attraction wasn’t wiped out, just their memories.” Ahh. Lucifer shakes his head. He had thought of that, staring at himself in the mirror. Many nights were filled with the nagging fears of defeat. If his father had a hand in your recovery could he even be allowed to try again? Lucifer looks back at all the things he said those nights kneeling by your side. It was foolish, what even contract he might have accidentally made had too many open ends, too many half wishes, and clauses.

“I’m afraid I have already thought of that my brother.”

“Then why haven’t you tried? Have you given up?” Asmo is met with silence. “Does that mean the rest of us have a chance?” He gets the reaction he was looking for then. Lucifer’s form shutters, a full body twitch as his body blurs around the edges in warning. “Seems to me like you haven’t given up yet. So what is stopping you.”

Lucifer crumbles under his brother’s worried gaze. Perhaps he could divulge his worry, just this once. “I asked father Az.”

Asmo gasps in surprise, eyes wide in disbelief, then dawning realization. “You think They did this?” Lucifer shrugged, running a hand through his disheveled locks. “They wouldn’t-they couldn’t...could they?” None of the brothers knew what their father was up to anymore, nor if They were even still able to track them. It was an ever present cloud of stress over all of them. While they trusted Diavolo and his protection, the nagging fear was never-ending.

“This is perfect!” Asmo claps his hands together. Lucifer stares at him in confusion. Lust’s smile grew toothy and dangerous. “Do you know what this means?”

“No.” His younger brother snorts looking down at his nails. His mind was running a mile a minute. For as organized and crafty as Lucifer is, he sure had his moments.

“Think about it. If Father did meddle then you have to try courting them again. Defying Father is a talent!” Asmo claps his hands in giddy delight. “Wouldn’t it just chafe their linens if you got back together?”

“And what if They didn’t meddle?”

“Then what do you have to lose?” Lucifer laughs. It was breathy and lifeless at the start but grew in intensity as Asmo’s words sunk in. Why was it when he said it it made sense?

“As devious as ever Az.” Lucifer smiles. Yes, he could win you back easily and reclaim his pride all in one fell swoop. “Thank you for reminding me of who I am.” They were troublemakers, the lot of them and it was time for him to prove it once more that he was the worst of them.

He starts the next day dressing down for once in his long life. He wears an outfit you always complement tucked neatly into a pair of dress slacks you bought him after a date gone awry. He smirked, remembering the tight squeeze of your hand on him on the drive home. The friction of your palm on the smooth material...he tipped his dry cleaner extra that night. “Good morning.” He purrs out in greeting taking his seat at the head of the table. The few brothers around the table freeze for a moment, keen eyes darting from him to where you sat still eating as if nothing had changed. Asmodeus shot him a wink.

“Morning.” You chirp back around your spoon. “It’s good to see you back at the table. Finally got a break from work?” The demons hold their collective breath.

“Yes, you can say that I came to a revelation of sorts.” He hums into his mug.

From that point on no matter what corner you turn on Lucifer was there. A pleasant smile on his lips and an offer of aid. “Thank you for the help!” You drop the large stack of books on your desk with a satisfied grunt. “You know- even though our pack is still somewhat new, if you need help with your work I’d be glad to give you a hand too!”

“Would you?” He hides his predatory grin under his hand. “ Some of the matters I have to attend to will require some long, hard work. It may take up some of your nights.” The flush that graces your cheeks and the warm buzz from his pact mark make him giddy.

“I’m willing.”

Slowly he begins to pull you back into his world. He leaves well placed hints of your past together scattered around his workspace. Your favorite Devildom blooms and treats always seem to be around when you come to offer your help in the evening. He slips old pet names into daily conversations as you scribble notes and transcribe letters for him by the soft light of his desk lamp. Pacing himself was never so hard before in his life. Was he finally cracking through? Or were you falling for him again? It was a heady rush to be sure, the mix of anticipation and thrill of such earthly courting made him realize many things he didn’t see the first time around. He learns all over again just what he loved about you.

He had forgotten how patient you were around him and with his siblings. Your keen eye and attention to detail reminded him just why he trusted you. You flitted about him picking up things he missed and settling brotherly disputes without him having to waste his breath. It was almost like things were going back to normal, minus the cold sheets beside him at night. But he sticks to his plan, finding pleasure in simply learning about you all over again.

It came to an end sooner than he had expected.

“Enter.” Lucifer calls from his overflowing desk. It was finals time once again and the damages done to school property were picking up dramatically. He heard your fluttering heartbeat before you even entered his domicile. It picks up as you approach.

“Am I interrupting?

Lucifer looks up from his work, a grin growing on his tired face. “For you, never.” You smile back, coming closer. You held a mug of coffee in your hands. The beast within him wanted to raise its hackles in triumph and howl. His life must be a divine comedy. This night is playing out just like it did nearly a year ago. Did you remember too? Or was this just how it always was meant to be?

“I haven’t seen you in a bit, and got concerned.” You fiddle with the handle of the copper mug. Lucifer nods, it was true. He regrettably had to put his plans with you on hold, he had spent so much time scheming he had let a few things build up. “Asmo told me you were hold up in here working, and I thought you could use a pick me up. He-he helped me make you some coffee.”

Ah. It wasn’t the same as the first time, but it was a matter of time before his sibling started meddling again. He takes the cup from your outstretched hand. “Thank you, this is much appreciated.” You glow under his praise taking a seat by his side.

“Need any help?” You eye the stack of papers with interest. “I’ve gotten pretty good at reading the fine print.”

“Have you now?” He pushes a small stack of papers towards you. “Very well, I would love your company again.” You take the work with a nod eager to spend time with him again. He watches you work, unable to contain his growing smile before looking down at the cup by his side. The tar-black coffee looks back at him. Oh, how he wished to commend his brother and berate him all at once. It is putrid and stomach-churning but he savors it all the same.

“Is it alright?” You pause watching him drink in. You have never seen him so enraptured by a drink before.

“Yes.” It will be.

[onbeinganangel]

warmup ficlet for @the-starryknight! she picked 'i know we’re not together but i might die today so i’m going to kiss you just in case there is no later' from this wee list of kisses and asked me to drarry it up and I rubbed my hands together in glee knowing fully well i was about to put together a hell of an angst sandwich

not beta'd, not edited, just angst with a happy ending directly from my heart to yours! (cw: some canon-style mentions of blood, violence, injury and also kind of patient/healer relationship)

damned if you do it and damned if you don’t

(draco/harry, 1.8k)

Draco had pictured it so often throughout his life he sometimes couldn’t honestly believe he had made it all the way to twenty-seven.

He remembers saying it after being thrown on his arse by the family Abraxan. He’d been very little, then. Five or six, maybe. He’d cried, big fat tears running down his face, and when his Mother finally managed to pull his tiny fists down and stop him from hiding his crying behind them, he’d announced, “Maman, I am dying.” She had assured him he very much wasn’t. They’d had scones with big heaped spoonfuls of clotted cream and raspberry jam in the garden and he’d soon forgotten about his fall.

A few years later, he fell off his broom and straight into the lake. Dobby had spelled him dry to avoid him getting in trouble and he was still heaving, coughing up water and panicking when he told the Elf, “Dobby, I am dying.”

Then there was the incident at Hogwarts. He still felt the sharp talons on his skin way after the hippogriff was far, far away, as he bled, holding onto the gashes on his arm and announced to the whole class, “I am dying, it’s killed me!”

Between the ages of sixteen and eighteen, it was more constant. It was the heavy burn of the Mark settling on his arm, it was the feeling of all his organs lighting up in pain and his bones breaking under Crucio after Crucio, it was the sounds of Nagini slithering outside his bedroom door at night, the sickening thud of death, the unsettling screaming, his aunt’s shrill nails-on-chalkboard voice, Greyback’s growls. A neverending chant of “I am dying, I am dying, I am dying, I am dying” inside his head.

It was confiding in a ghost, it was crying because the fear of failure was so intense he reckons he would have preferred to be dead then, it was the only person he believed was actually kind and pure and incapable of willingly inflicting pain on anyone slashing him open and leaving him for dead on a bathroom floor. Draco had looked at Snape, murmuring spell after spell over him, and he’d whispered, “I am dying.”

It was learning how to be numb, how to not feel, how to keep everyone out of his mind and away from his thoughts, it was the paralysing terror of crawling around in the shadows, the bone-deep dread of dropping leftover bread rolls on the floor by the bars on the dungeon and kicking them swiftly into the other side, where they kept his classmates. It was sneaking a blanket or two down and saying to himself, “If they find out…”

It was the persistent horror of knowing you don’t believe in what you’re doing and knowing you’re damned if you do it and damned if you don’t. Between the ages of sixteen and eighteen, Draco would lie in his bed at night — his own at home, his own in the dorms, Pansy’s in the girls’ dorms when it got bad, and he would say it to himself, hoping it would become true, “I am dying.”

But he hadn’t. Despite all odds, Draco is happy. Twenty-seven. He’s got friends, a flat, a job he loves and he’s good at. He’s no longer spat at on the streets. He survived, he made amends, he managed it all. Most of all, he had managed not to die.

Until now, that is. This time he’s pretty certain he won’t be afforded such luck. He feels the curse hit him square on the chest. It’s his own fault, really, for not realising there was someone already in the room he entered. He’d been too busy throwing a rather flourished Incarcerous across the room at the two potions dealers he’d been running after for the past five minutes to notice the third man.

Draco is falling backwards before he has time to even think about anything, his wand clanking noisily seconds before he joins it on the floor.

Then: “Incarcerous.” He hears it — muffled but there. And after, “Fuck, Draco.”

He’s way too familiar with the way his Auror partner works not to know it’s him when the strong arms wrap around him and pull him up. “Oh, Merlin,” he hears. His eyes flutter back open for a couple of seconds and he can tell he was right, even if it’s all blurry: red robes, orange hair, worried blue eyes.

Fear. “I am dying,” he thinks. “Harry,” he says.

“You’re gonna see Harry alright,” Ron says. “He’s gonna have words about having to heal you again,” it’s almost like a joke. Like a Ronald-typical joke. But there’s an edge of worry there. There’s panic. Ronald doesn’t panic.

And it dawns on him. Draco tries to look down but it’s all red. The burgundy of his robes, the sticky dark red of drying blood on his hands and the fresh and vivid blood still pouring out of his chest. He’s not gonna make it to St. Mungo’s, he’s never going to make it to Harry.

“I am dying,” he says, and Ron makes a noise that can only be described as half agony, half agreement.

It smells like St. Mungo’s when he wakes up thinking “I am dying.” Very faintly, he hears the same voice he always hears in his dreams. Maybe he is dead. The voice never sounds like this in his dreams, though: disembodied, frantic, quick. Draco catches half words, half sentences, half conversations that don’t make sense. A different voice is saying “just do it” and “you’re powerful enough” and “sod protocol” and “I am his partner, I brought him here.” The voice from his dreams responds with things like “unstable” and “I don’t know” and “can you please try” and a “I can’t get in touch with her” and “not without consent forms” and a louder, angry “he’s not going to d—“

Draco tries to move towards the voice.

“Draco!” Says the first voice and three pairs of feet come towards him.

“Don’t try to open your eyes, don’t try to talk, don’t try to move, okay? We have stopped the bleeding for now, but we’re still trying to reverse the curse.”

“Harry.” His Harry.

“Yes, hello. We have got to stop meeting like this.”

“I am dying,” Draco croaks out.

“I won’t let you.”

Draco wants to speak. He wants to say “I am dying, I don’t want to die without telling you,” but he has no strength. His thoughts are going faster than the newest Firebolt as he hears Harry tell whoever else is in the room (Ron?) to leave. He wonders if this is it. This what they show you in the films: your life flashing before your eyes right before you die. He thinks of Harry shaking his hand after his Auror graduation ceremony. “Well done, Malfoy,” he’d said. He thinks of that first time he’d been invited over to Ron and Hermione’s, a few weeks after he became Ron’s partner, and Harry had laughed at his stories, lips wine-red and plump, eyes kind like he’d never expected. He thinks of every moment of almost in between them, every moment where Draco considered blurting it out, saying what was on his mind. The Christmas Gala as he towered over Harry and fixed the little chain on his robes for him, and that night at that dingy club for Hermione’s birthday where they’d stared at each other for forty minutes and when Draco had decided he couldn’t take it anymore, he found out that Harry had left. Or just last month when they’d gone out to buy a housewarming present for Luna and ended up eating leftovers on Harry’s sofa, exhausted from people and walking. There are too many. Too many instances of hesitation, too many “nearly-but-not-quites.”

And he’ll die and won’t ever get the chance to tell him, to kiss his handsome, stupid, precious face, and it aches — it hurts almost as much as that spot just to the left of his breastbone where the Curse had hit, where he was profusely bleeding not long ago.

“Closer,” he manages, very quietly.

Harry approaches, but not close enough, not even close enough for Draco to grab at him.

“Cl— clos—uh—closer,” he tries again.

And Harry’s right there, by his bed and he looks beautiful in his Healer robes (unheard of, really) and Draco is blinking his view into a sharper focus and listing all the things he knows he loves, the things he doesn’t want to forget: the white-ish storm of a scar that slashes through Harry’s eyebrow, the shiny (shinier than usual?) green eyes, the touch of stubble, the slightly crooked nose, the lips — oh, the lips, plump and sweet looking and Draco will never get to find out just how sweet. And then, he has to do it. Because if he’s going to die anyway, he may as well use his last breath on this.

He pushes himself off the pillow slightly and his hand pulls Harry’s green robes closer until their lips meet, clumsily and hard — Harry not expecting it, Draco waning from the efforts of pulling Harry closer, but Draco will die knowing he’s kissed Harry. And if there’s no later, at least he’s done it. At least Harry knows.

“Stop. You’ll hurt yourself,” Harry says, and pushes him back down. Gently, like everything he does.

“But—“

“I know, darling. Me too.”

Darling? Harry… too?

“I’m going to heal you, okay? I’m going to heal you and we’ll do that again. I’ll take you to dinner, or brunch, I know you like brunch. Or just coffee. We’ll go to the pictures. I’ll hold your hand. We’ll go flying. We’ll go clubbing and I’ll dance with you, I promise I will, and I’ll let you tell me how bad I am. I’ll find you a copy of that book you were talking about with Hermione, no matter how much it costs. I’ll throw my name around if I have to, okay? And we’re going to do that again, properly. When I’m not your healer and you’re not hurting. I’m going to heal you now, you just—“ he stops, then, breathing wild and panicked.

Then, a small sob. A kiss to his forehead. Draco doesn’t remember closing his eyes.

“You just hold on, yeah? Don’t go anywhere.”

And Draco would cry if he had the strength, he would say yes to all those plans and more, but he focuses on the feeling of Harry’s magic sinking into his body like and he holds on, just like he was told to. He holds on, even if he doesn’t know exactly to what. And he thinks maybe he’ll get lucky again, and he’ll stop picturing himself dead like he’s been doing his whole life. Harry’s magic feels like love, like poetry, like cascading words of affection whispered into the space between his ribs, it feels like hope. And Draco holds on and thinks to himself, as loud as a thought can go, “I am not dying.”

[tobiosmilktea]

 umpah umpah! smau

↪︎ bokuto x f!reader x iwaizumi

[021] — like a storm!

masterlist | prev. | next

a/n: swear my writing hasn’t been that good recently and i blame it on my lack of freetime 😔 anyway here’s 4.5k words of trashy word dump that i wrote in 2 hours ;)) also peep the tlc reference

in theory, this picnic blanket was much too small for the likes of fitting a webtoon author, an editor, and a beefy volleyball player all at once, and yet, it still managed to fit two more to come join—tightly bunched up in the park at night as the crisp air temperature slowly drops. having a picnic at the cusp of autumn and winter was a definite mistake, but then again, perhaps they were used to it by now.

it wasn’t like the cold was bothering bokuto at this point anyway as his blood simmered with a boiling hot ichor. he had a death grip on his phone as satomi left him on read. all the volleyball player could do was roll his eyes and scoff as he taps your shoulder. akaashi, who sat on the other side of you was in the midst of speaking to you, yet was interrupted by the bright white light from the screen shone across your faces.

your eyes scanned the texts, feeling your lungs desperately yearning for air. her words suffocated you, crushing your airways as you struggled to breathe. perhaps you have forgotten how to at that very moment. they say it takes about three minutes for someone to suffocate from the lack of oxygen and if akaashi didn’t shake you, that probably would have been you. the fact that seeing that damn photo made your heart shatter more times than you could count over a course of the past few days. you couldn’t catch a fucking break, could you?

you had to look away. if you had stared at satomi in iwaizumi’s bed any longer, you would’ve screamed your head off.

“god, these cookies are so fucking good. i would literally marry these if i could,” kaori moaned into another bite of a matcha shortbread cookie. she practically threw herself over yuko’s lap as she reached in her little baggie for more. “these cookies are a godsend, (y/n), where did you get them?”

“this bakery right next to onigiri miya, apparently they make good lemon macarons as well.” you mutter. the semblance of seeing those texts was still evident upon your expression.

yuko doesn’t fail to notice the way the timbre of your voice had changed within a sudden moment. she gives you a look, “what’s wrong?” her words, careful and genuine filled you with something somber as bokuto handed his phone to her.

kaori grunts slightly as she lifts herself off of yuko, yet her body was still leaned over to skim the texts along with her.

it was a nervous habit of yours to fiddle with your fingers, picking and scratching at your chipped nail polish until it was all gone. you don’t remember when this became a habit, but you always did this whilst you waited for something you dreaded to hear the answer to. as if the nerves within you pooled into a wave, crashing back and forth like a tide until you either get dragged along with it or somehow manage to survive.

their expressions contorted into a nasty mixture of disgust and absolute horror. even kaori who has seen the despicable sweet-tongued manipulations of nicotine-stained fingers of incels had to shake her head and push the phone away.

“i never liked that girl from the start,” yuko scoffs. she hands the phone back to bokuto, watching him switch it off and dropping it onto the cushioned picnic blanket in annoyance.

“god, the amount of anger coursing through my body right now...” muttered bokuto, “i can’t believe she would do this.”

“at least she didn’t do anything to iwaizumi,” akaashi tried to reason. things were already so messed up, it was the least he could do.

kaori shakes her head, clearing her throat from the dryness of the shortbread cookie. “doesn’t matter,” her words were venomous and cutthroat, “she’s still a terrible person considering she got him drunk and made him tell her shit that wasn’t any of her business. what a fucking snake.”

you pursed your lips slightly, wanting to close your eyes and make this all disappear the moment you wake up. the chill of the night air had finally struck you. it was that sudden urge to run away as fast as possible, to escape the words you wholeheartedly wanted to leave behind continued to follow you like haunting poltergeists. and as if the tingling phrases of whispered memoirs of your mistakes weren’t enough, your own decisions whether it was right or wrong lingered back to both iwaizumi and bokuto. it’s heavy baggage you so dearly wanted to get rid of, but the solutions seemed so skewed and out of place for you to comprehend properly that even the chill in the air started to burn.

bokuto glanced at you with worry coated the emotions in his eyes. his hand reached for yours, lacing his fingers through your own as his palm—though rough and calloused—was warm against the biting cold of your hand. it comforted you more than you had expected with the way it was hidden from the others, almost melting when bokuto started to rub his thumb in little circles on the back of your hand and over your knuckles.

your hands were so soft, he had forgotten how much he liked holding them. he could memorize each and every detail just by admiring the way your hand looked so tiny next to his, yet they fit together like a glove.

you swore your heart was ready to jump out of your throat then. you weren’t sure if bokuto could even feel the way you squeezed his hand slightly as a silent answer.

“we should do something about it,” you say after a few beats of silence had passed, but it only comes out in a hushed mutter.

bokuto squeezed back, “like what?”

“i don’t really know,” you shrug while you shook your head, “just something that’ll make her learn a lesson or two.”

kaori gasps, “we should sue her!”

you and the others gave her a look.

“like seriously, sexual assault allegations are terrible especially since she’s a famous sports team’s physical therapist!”

“there probably isn’t enough evidence for that to work, kaori, considering they only made out.” yuko says matter-of-factly, “besides, suing someone is expensive and we don’t have that kind of budget right now.”

kaori braids over arms over each other in disappointment, “that’s lame.”

“yuko’s right.” you sighed, “i don’t want things to get out of hand and end up going public either. iwaizumi is already mad at the fact that i used him for a webtoon and surely being part of a lawsuit would only make it worse.”

it had come to a point that you had noticed how far everything has come. you wanted to laugh at how fast everything went downhill within a matter of months. the skeleton of your mistakes was just waiting for its last bits to fall and crush you.

there had to be a way to just make this—whatever this entire thing is to just end already.

akaashi opened his mouth to speak after keeping his thoughts to himself this entire time, “what if we just... get her fired?” he finished the last of his words in a blazing hesitance as if we would absolutely hate the idea. granted, it wasn’t much to work off of just by a simple proposal, but it had potential.

“we could, but how exactly are we going to do that?” bokuto asks curiously.

“didn’t you say that tomas recently got injured?” akaashi starts, earning a nod from bokuto to have him continue, “well if we want to be discrete as possible we could do it the old-fashioned way.”

yuko furrowed her brows as she asked, “which is?”

“if she keeps missing work or arriving late, she could potentially lose her job.”

kaori bursts out laughing, heaving a heavy snort as she mused at akaashi, “seriously? is that really our best option?”

akaashi rolled his eyes as she teases, “since you wanted to go the legal route, technically, it is.”

the girl’s laughter came to a slow cease, cocking her head in interest as she waited for one of them to elaborate.

“no yeah, there’s still a chance for this to actually work.” bokuto starts without a second thought. hell, he even forgot he was still holding your hand. “professional sports teams require their medical team to be at every game whether it’s real or just practice since the players are always at risk of getting injured. satomi’s known to be good at being there every day on time, so if yoji and their boss sees that she’s consistently missing work now for... let’s say—iwaizumi—and tomas isn’t getting treated asap, they’re allowed to replace her. and if you’re replaced, there’s basically no going back even if it is just temporary. and if that happens...” he pauses as he holds back a smirk, “she’s going to be fined legally with negligence—worst-case scenario, she’ll probably be fined for nonfeasance too.”

“whoa there, those are some big words, sir.” says kaori, “someone catch me up here?”

akaashi lets out a sigh, “nonfeasance means failure to do what’s expected.”

the sound of awe left kaori as she nods in understanding.

“is this really necessary? it seems like a lot of work just to get back at her.” yuko has always been a rational person, just like akaashi, but the only difference between them was that she liked to do things the fastest and most easy way.

“if we play our cards right, i think we could do it.” says bokuto.

“then i think we need all the help we can get if we really want this to work out.” akaashi said, craning his neck towards you to ask, “should i tell semi and suga about it?”

it’s not even a question for you to answer considering how obvious the answer was. of course, you had to tell them. they basically knew everything already, and if anything they’re the only ones who could make this plan actually work.

“i can also tell my team about it to help.” bokuto adds in, but you cut him a look, “only atsumu, sakusa, hinata, and tomas of course. i promise i’ll only tell them what they need to know. what do you think?”

“as long as satomi gets what she deserves.”

you hated the way your thoughts were an endless motion of suffering. it had been keeping you awake all night as you tossed and turned. you couldn’t rest now as if a giant cinder block of forbidden serendipities would clash-boom-bang back onto you as it was being held by a teetering string of floss. it was bound to snap at any second. you yearned for even just a few minutes of rest as maybe these suffocating feelings would disappear once you woke up in the early morning.

it was still dark out—three a.m... maybe, but all you knew was that it was late and your flurrying thoughts were giving you so much residual energy that you needed to extrude. it wasn’t a form of adrenaline or a sugar rush, no, it was something else. your body was well beyond fatigued, but rather your mind was running like a brain on drugs.

there were so many things rushing through your head that it morphed into a jungle of tangled vines of plenty. it was a storming blizzard that couldn’t be calmed down as you finally pushed yourself off your bed, forcing your sheets off of you and sitting on the side of the matress. guilt was eating you alive, gnawing at your hollow chest as your semblance withered while the minutes passed. you just wanted for everything to just stop. please just stop.

maybe this is why you never told any of them. the stress, the consequences— you knew damn well that shit would hit the fan if you did, and yet it’s inevitable. the truth would have come out sooner or later.

ugh, why are you like this? you thought to yourself, dragging your fingers through your hair as you sighed out.

the answers were obvious, but it was the tingling of your lips that sent waves of heat to your cheeks as you recalled the kiss... the kiss! holy shit, the kiss. it hit you then when it played back in your head from a few hours ago when bokuto dropped you off at your door. something melted in bokuto’s eyes the moment you looked back at him, heat emanating from every inch of his skin as you tracked the tension in his body. he leaned over with his face just a few centimeters shy from yours and you swore he could probably hear your heart punching against your ribcage. bokuto could feel the warmth of your breath fanning against his chin and for a moment the world and all the problems in it seemed to disappear for a brief moment. before you knew it he kissed you gently as if it was his last. it certainly would be for a while, anyway.

“dammit,” you cursed in a harsh whisper, leaning over to switch on your bedside lamp in a swift flick.

you slapped your cheeks to force the thought out of your head as you made your way to your desk. you turned your desk lamp on with it’s bright yellow hue flickering slightly over your messy work area. it was scattered with paperwork and miscellaneous notes that it was surely beyond your mood to even fix-up.

usually, you tend to be pretty clean and organized with your desk space, and yet with recent events, you’ve been letting the work pile up instead. you’ve always liked the saying, this is something future (y/n) can deal with, but for once you hated yourself for it. besides, look where it got you.

a sigh escaped your lips when you plopped yourself upon your chair. your delicate fingers traced along the edges of the neatly bonded sheets of love cemetery’s storyboard. you started it earlier today with the help of the rest of the ddd team after the director of the project gave you the freedom to do so as usually, he would be in charge of making the storyboard and such. despite being rather chaotic on a daily basis, you were glad to be surrounded by people who always put a smile on your face while still getting work done. those were the best types of people to work with—friends that cared about you.

you guys managed to get the first fifteen pages done and you needed twenty completed panels in less than twenty-four hours. you were used to this type of pressure, especially while you were working on your webtoon. you were surprised how many times you sprained your hand from constantly working that the aching pain between your joints and your wrists were second nature at this point. surely, you would have carpal tunnel by now if akaashi wasn’t there to always nag you to take breaks.

with a few wrist stretches and cracks of your knuckles, you flipped to the next scene—the day you and bokuto met. your heart tugged slightly as you envisioned the scene you drew in your webtoon, slowly converting it into a movie scene in your head.

oh, how things have changed.

your hand ached for mercy by the time seven a.m. struck. the sun had already peeked through the horizon, sending rays of sunlight through the blinds of your bedroom window as a greeting for the new morning. you had been sketching out the storyboard for five nonstop hours (give or take a few minutes in between trying not to let the different events in the story get to you).

you’ve always had a strange habit of ignoring the pain in your wrist, but now it was certainly unbearable. the lead pencil that was hot to the touch from the heat from your hand dropped onto your desk in a clatter. your eyes flicked down to your palm as you could feel the fatigue darkening your eyebags. your hands were practically alabaster from the constant pressure that it took a good moment for the circulation to run back into your hand.

you left your bedroom and made your way to your kitchenette. it was like your body was moving on its own, grabbing a mug, turning on your kettle, and tossing teaspoons of sugar in your cup for your morning tea as if you were on autopilot.

silence had surrounded you for far too long, you needed some form of sound to keep you sane from staying up all night and leaving you alone with your thoughts to just take over. sounds from the television hummed through the quaint air of your apartment in the lowest possible volume, just beneath the whistling of the tea kettle atop your stove.

you poured out the boiling hot water as your eyes followed the way the tea steeped through the liquid like a spreading storm.

the doorbell rang then, causing your head to swirl towards your door with slight confusion filling your expression. who would even come by so early in the morning?

the floorboards of your apartment creaked at your light steps as you trod towards the door, almost flinching at the cold surface of the handle as you unlocked it. you pulled the door open. there was that infamous morning chill in the autumn air that bit at your bare arms and legs. the heat from your apartment escaped at the motion as your breath hitched within your throat.

he looked out of breath and filled with fearful tension as his broad shoulders relaxed a bit at your sight. his usual soft brown locks that are always styled was tangled and woven into each other like a basket weave. hell, he looked as if he rushed immediately here the moment he woke up, all disheveled and almost desperate. poor guy didn’t even think to put on a coat before coming.

what the hell is he doing here?

“iwa—?” you attempted to say out loud in a harsh whisper that could barely leave your body in the first place. and yet, your voice disappeared into his chest as he pulls you into him, warmth engulfing you like burning ember.

you swallowed the lump forming in your throat as you froze. call it shock or just plain confusion but you couldn’t bring yourself to move your arms from the way iwaizumi’s embrace trapped them to your sides. just the plain sensation of the heat rising from his skin was enough to simmer down your awe as you finally managed to wrap your arms around him.

“i’m sorry,” he mutters into your shoulder.

you captured your bottom lip between your teeth. “i’m sorry too,” you say in the same matter, yet your voice almost sounded hoarse from the dryness in your throat. “i should’ve told you the truth.”

“and i shouldn’t have said those things that i said to you...”

a response would usually follow right after, but you couldn’t piece together the correct words and all of the nuanced phrases in your head to say into the air. your thoughts were too far cluttered and chaotic to even say anything more other than, “it’s okay.”

iwaizumi could only pull you in closer, hold you tighter, and leave his arms around you as if he feared that you would disappear out of his reach if he were to let go even in the slightest. he made the mistake of letting you go that one night many years ago and he has learned his lesson since them. he’s not going to take any more chances.

you two have been in each other’s arms for a while now, but you couldn’t find the strength in you to let go. you haven’t felt iwaizumi’s hugs in so long that perhaps you wanted to savor it a bit longer as well. like a little treat—a reward of a few minutes of peace after a thunderstorm of misunderstanding where all that’s left is the aroma of lingering petrichor of bittersweet nothings. you would like to call this a small victory, but something was off.

“iwa,” you say once you finally pulled yourself into your senses, “what’s wrong?”

“i did something bad, (y/n). i fucked up.”

you pull away from him slightly, just enough to be able to look at him in the eye but still be in the comfort of his arms. “what happened?”

“i was so fucking stupid, i shouldn’t have agreed to go with satomi.” oh, you thought as the words left his mouth. you pursed your lips together, forcing yourself to lock your gaze onto him as he spoke. “i ended up getting drunk and telling her everything that happened by accident.”

it’s okay, i already know. i already know, i already know. the words rang inside your head as you fought to say the words, but nothing was coming out. you did nothing wrong, it’s okay, it’s okay. there was so much hurt and betrayal lacing iwaizumi’s copper eyes that you feared anything you say (regardless if it was in his favor) would obliterate everything that just happened into dust. seriously, how bad would it sound telling a person that you were already aware of what they did? iwaizumi already had so many trust issues that you were treading on thin ice right now.

it really all came down to the question: do what’s right or do what’s easy?

right or easy, right or easy?

for years you have been choosing the easy route to undermine your problems. you always thought to yourself, if you had ignored the problem long enough, eventually it’ll all go away. it might have worked for the tiniest of things, but you should’ve known it would never work when you were fucking up other people’s lives from your own selfishness.

you didn’t want to be selfish anymore.

“we ended up sleeping together.”

you scrunched your brows in confusion, “what?”

did satomi lie then? did they actually sleep together?

“i-i don’t even remember how it all happened!” iwaizumi exclaimed in such urgency. he certainly didn’t want to make the gap between you two any bigger, “all i remember was that we kissed but before i knew it, i woke up to her in my bed but she was fully clothed.”

you sigh with a huff, trying to piece together the disarrayed parts together as you recalled bokuto’s words from last night, satomi doesn’t lie when it comes to sleeping around. the sentence wandering your thoughts as the boy before you continue to ramble. so maybe satomi didn’t lie after all, “listen, iwa—”

“you gotta believe me, (y/n), i didn’t mean to do it. when i said that i still love you the last time we texted i meant it—”

“haji, i said listen!” you huffed as you grabbed his arm. the sudden name change was enough to shut him up and possibly cause a surging red tint to his ears. you found it adorable, but you had to cut him some slack since you hadn’t called him that since high school. “last night i was with akaashi and bokuto.”

iwaizumi was already making a face before you could even start. “why were you with them?”

“just hear me out okay?” you pleaded.

he saw the aggression in your eyes and immediately shut up, nodding for you to continue.

“while i was with them, satomi texted us about everything that happened. she said that you guys only made out and didn’t do anything beyond that.” you explain, watching the slight relief softening his expression, “she ended up just sleeping over instead that’s why she was in your bed.”

you didn’t expect him to say anything when you finished your thought. it was a lot to sudden comprehend as you two just stood there waiting, swallowed up in your own thoughts.

“don’t blame yourself, okay?” you attempted to break the silence, “what satomi did was wrong.”

iwaizumi’s wandering gaze flickered back to you, fist curling up into a tight ball until his knuckles turned marble white. but as quickly as he felt the aching of his nail digging into his palm did he let go and let his shoulders drop. he sighs while he ran his hand through his tangled hair. he didn’t know what to say and the silence was punishing.

you parted your lips slightly as the words tickled your tongue. “this, um, might be too much to ask and you don’t have to say yes, but we need your help with something.”

“who’s we?”

“bokuto, akaashi, kaori, and the rest of my team.” you answer truthfully, “we’re trying to get satomi to face the consequences.”

iwaizumi nods, not hesitating for a second. “alright, i’ll do it.”

well that was easier than you thought.

you held back an amused laugh, hiding your smile behind your hand as you pull away from him. you made your way back to your kitchen as you had forgotten about your cup of tea from earlier.

“but...” iwaizumi trailed behind you as you sipped from your mug. “i was the one who made a move on her first.”

“oh,” you say. you definitely didn’t know about that small detail that sent ivy-like jealousy through your veins, “i mean... you were drunk so it makes sense.” you tried to justify without making your envy too obvious.

you turned away from him, fearing that he could see right through you.

“i kissed her thinking it was you,” he states.

your eyes widen then, slapping your cheeks that heated by the second. there was a grip around your swiftly beating heart, aching within your ribcage as you attempted to calm the roaring serendipities that threatened to bloom prematurely.

a composed sigh leaves you as you pull yourself together, turning back around to face iwaizumi with a meek smile. “cool,” you mused awkwardly as your brain search rapidly for a way to change the subject. iwaizumi moved closer to you, sending you into a mild panic, “have you had breakfast yet?” you asked out of the blue.

but before you could even fathom what he was doing, he cups your face between his hands and pulls you in.

your heart flutters and stops when iwaizumi pressed his lips against yours, soft and delicate as if you were the most fragile thing within his grasp. and you were. his touch against your jaw was light as it trailed down your neck. he could feel the raging ichor that soared through your veins like a wildfire while your hand that was splayed against his broad chest could feel the thumping of his heart against your own palm.

you pull away from him as he says, “no, i haven’t.” but it wasn’t to let him answer, rather, it was the thought that iwaizumi came second place again.

fun facts! —

yes. y/n did kiss both bokuto and iwaizumi within a span of a couple hours 💀 queen shit fr

after iwaizumi left, y/n immediately facetimed kaori and akaashi and told them what happened

it was definitely awkward between bokuto and iwaizumi when they saw each other, but it was harder to avoid satomi

(also by saying “iwaizumi came second place” means who was able to kiss y/n first not who won her feelings over)

taglist: (closed!)

@moonlightaangel @elianetsantana @k4tiepie @memorableminds @wheeshllumi @suhkusa @kitsunetea @airybby @noeminemi @truly-a-snitch @keichan @cosmicmermaid25 @bap-kingdom @saturnfarie @kwdflash @ennos-baby @dinablossom @chrisrue15 @seikamuzu @nestlevanilla @chasekudo @yammmers @pixcldust @iwaizluv @h0ngh0ngh0ng @emogril @tiredandkindaoverworked @tsumue @underratedmage @bokutosuwus @kellesvt @unstableye @oh-tapeworm @scrappyfka @alittlebitofrain @mxngy @tpwkatsumu @atsumuwoah @macchiatoast @dicerawr @kageyamasbabygorl @some-random-stranger-007 @vhskenma @wntrmn @little-plants @stargirlara @kissungjae @je11yfishwriter @sbaepsae @apollochjld

[katsukikitten]

It's hard to see through the sticky wet droplets that fall from above your brow, from your lips and cheeks. You huff, blood splatters the floor at the feet of a woman dressed in an old fashioned black kimono. Her fox mask askew on a rare occasion. 

"You broke her, you BROKE HER!" You screech, small frame shaking from fading adrenaline and flashing memories of cold steel and even colder eyes. This was too much, way too much for your seven year old body to handle. But you would do what you must to survive. 

The woman turns towards you, her blue eyes iridescent even in the low light.

"No child, you broke her. You were just going to let her kill you." She shrugs as if it weren't such a heavy statement.

"I'm- I'm her weakness, she's better than me, SHE HAD TO!" A stammer that grows into a deafening scream. 

"No my dear, she always has and always will be your burden." 

You wake in a cold sweat, alarm blaring and your heart stutters in your chest, knives instinctively woven into your fingers. 

"An old memory. A dream." Soothing words from a shaking voice, knives never faltering as you lower them, slipping them back onto your person. You rise, peering out the window to see the city blanketed in snow, heaps of it as more fall from the sky. The sidewalks cleared in such a half assed way you were sure they would just turn to ice instead, the piles in the storm drain already turning a mute grey. 

You hated the snow, it always brought up bad memories and the biting cold made every scar you owned throb. Ebbing in memories you wished you'd forgotten.  Instead you get ready for the day pulling on your hero suit although you didn't have to work the overtime today, you guess old habits die hard. Two weeks had passed since Bakugou offered you that side job. He paid you enough that you wouldn't have to worry about your sister's bills for the next month. 

Still Christmas dinner couldn't come soon enough. 

You lock the apartment and push through the biting air, face begging for a reprieve as you walk into the icy wind but it's not as if you could walk to the agency backwards. 

Bakugou and Kirishima wait outside of the agency building for you, Bakugou holds out a steaming coffee as Kirishima offers a warm smile. 

"You're late." "Just on time." They speak over each other before Bakugou gives Kirishima a glare. 

"We're patrolling the fucking shopping district today." Bakugou shoves the coffee into your hands as you grit your teeth, trailing behind the two as Bakugou sets out the pace. You let your eyes wander, snow clinging to their hair as Kirishima wears next to nothing, his dumb ass costume having sleeves for warmth. You roll your eyes before they fall on Bakugou. Normally you can smell the spicy burnt sugar wafting off of him in troves but the wind chill is dangerously low for someone who relies on sweat as their weapon. The snow comes down thicker, the flakes a puffy white that sends you miles away before a gut feeling brings you back into the present. You grab onto both of the men, straining your ears to hear over the bustle of the city. Something isn't settling right but they don't seem to be on high alert. Maybe your nerves are fried from the dream. 

Your concentrated look doesn't go unnoticed by either party looking over their shoulder.  Bakugou shoves the two of you into a side alley to stay out of the way of the hustling streets since you're just standing there. You seem to be off your game, you're more subtle at letting them know about danger without alerting civilians. 

"Oi. Spit it out." Bakugou crosses his arms as he stares you down. You blink away the rage, the wind whipping through the side alley making the three of you shiver. You grab onto Kirishima, placing your palm on his sculpted pectoral before explaining. 

"Just some buffs for the day. Your unbreakable will be 65% harder and you'll be lighter on your feet." Kirishima gives you a concerned look as you reach for Bakugou who tries to resist. 

"Don't need your fucking help." 

"Yea?" You hiss, "What good are you if you aren't sweating moron?" 

You yank his arm to you, pulling at his sleeve to get to bare skin, pressing your warm fingers against his cool forearm.  You send him a knowing glare. 

"Gonna feel like summer for you today sweaty palms." You shove him away and he thinks to swing at you. Kirishima diffuses the situation. 

"All day buffs? Isn't that a strain on your quirk?" Kirishima was always concerned about you.

"I'll be fine. You know I'm at a place where a lot of my own personal buffs and debuffs are idle." With a snap of your fingers a little display appears in the air thanks to your support bracelet. Reminding the two men of a video game, your stats out there for them to see. The screen rolls through them fairly quickly. Bakugou can only catch a few as the text moves at a rapid pace. Poison resistance 85%, Stab resistance 98%, weapon pulled from body closes wound 50% faster, returned weapon caught or pulled from body 100% hit rate, deadly intent. Your stats disappear as quickly as they came. Bakugou knows your quirk's ability comes from experience, he thinks of the ones you have maxed out and let's his eyes linger over your face. Over the muted slashes and his stomach churns from concern, suspicion. How would a "petty thief" come across a blade and return it enough times that they could never miss? It surely wasn't in the time of your forced hero work, he has yet to see you take anything more than a surprise punch. 

"Are we fucking done? We got extras to babysit." Bakugou growls stepping out onto the sidewalk and into a nest of paparazzi. 

"Dynamight, over here Dynamight. Is it true you're dating your partner?" 

"Is it Red Riot or Rouge?" Another reporter shouts. Screaming out question after question putting Bakugou under rapid fire. 

Cameras flash as you can practically hear Bakugou's blood pressure increase ten fold, he inhales sharply to scream but Pro Hero Red Riot saves the day. 

"Guys we're on the clock, please save this for our designated interview dates." He smiles listing the dates and times. You wonder how they collected here so quickly, scanning the crowd for a nosy bystander that may have tipped the tabloids off with your location. 

But your eyes lock onto something far worse. 

In the crowd is a woman with auburn hair and icy blue eyes, dressed in an all black kimono. She smirks and mouths "Finally" to you before she throws her deadly ice darts, dipped in shining poison yet to be added to the government registry. 

But how could they know when you helped her make it. Working on instinct you yank Kirishima forward by his steel face mask until he is doubled over before you pull Bakugou into the same position by his belt of winter grenades. One ice dart sinks into your shoulder while the other nicks your throat but it's not as if it matters. Mithridatsim was your best friend growing up. 

A small box flashes in the top left corner of your vision, a status only you can see

WARNING! MORE EXPERIENCE NEEDED: LAST ADMINISTERED DOSE OF POISON X HAS BEEN SIX MONTHS, PLEASE DO NOT CONSUME ANYMORE TO INCREASE LOST RESISTANCE AND GAIN EXPERIENCE.

Fuck! How could you forget that her special blend of poison required exposure every two months?! Hero work was making you too soft, making you wonder just how many other skills were deteriorating from lack of repetition and experience. 

But that was a problem for another day. For now you growl, yanking the men down further to keep their eyes off of you as you give chase. Following her deadly speed with ease, thankfully she is headed out of sight from civilians and paparazzi although it spells trouble for you. 

Or maybe it spells trap. 

She throws another set of ice darts, you dodge them all but one that sinks into your stomach. You grip onto the ice, pulling it from your skin when a warning pops up  

LIMIT EXPOSURE, REACHING LETHAL DOSE, PASSIVE BUFF ACTIVATED, HEALING RATE REDUCED FROM 50% TO 30% DUE TO POISON X, RETURNED WEAPON HIT RATE REDUCED TO 65% DUE TO WEAPON TYPE, COLD RESISTANCE INCREASED TO 55%

WOULD YOU LIKE TO TAKE A CHANCE?

The question flashes as you push forward, following her step for step. You loved and loathed that question, it could increase your chances of the poison clearing instantly, heal your wounds perfectly and return your hit rate back to its max level. 

Or you could utterly "fail" the chance roll earning you double the pain and debuff.

The closer you were to whatever magic number your quirk decided, the better your chances. 

Another set of darts that you barely dodge. You grind your teeth, hero work was definitely making you too soft. 

WOULD YOU LIKE TO TAKE A CHANCE?

"Yes!" You growl as your quirk activates. It announces to you the size of the "dice" and the numbers to avoid as you give chase. 

PASSIVE BUFF DEACTIVATED "LUCK OF THE DRAW" FOR CHANCE ROLL, DIE SIZE 70, NUMBERS TO AVOID CRITICAL FAILURE 1 THROUGH 50, NUMBERS TO HIT FOR CRITICAL HIT 72 THROUGH 75. ALL NUMBERS IN BETWEEN THE CRITICALS WILL INCREASE BUFFS AND DECREASE BODILY HARM BY 15%. 

ROLLING DIE NOW.

In your mind's eye a giant die flashes in your head as numbers blur together while it rolls. 

50! CRITICAL FAIL, DAMAGE INCREASED BY TWO, POISON RESISTANCE REDUCED BY 15%, TEN MINUTES UNTIL BLACK OUT  

THANK YOU FOR TAKING A CHANCE! 

DOUBLE OR NOTHING? 

You swat away the temptation as a copper taste begins to coat your tongue, spitting red into the snow. You return the damn dart anyway, lucky enough for you it sticks into the nape of her neck but the ice is not strong enough to sink deeper. Finally she takes a left into an alley and you follow before the mouth is closed off by ice.

Sealing the two of you into an icy tomb. Snarling you exchange fists, hoping to wear her out before you lose consciousness, as she was never good at hand to hand, unlike yourself. 

Who lived for the up close and personal. 

PASSIVE BUFF "UPPER HAND" ACTIVATED, MELEE AND CLOSE COMBAT SKILLS INCREASED

You rear back your fist, landing it straight into her jaw, causing her to fall back onto heaps of trash. You pin her, pressing one of her ice blades to her throat. 

"What are you doing here Fox?" You hiss, and she smiles in delight. 

"Could ask you the same little ‘hero’!" She laughs and it's haughty, bringing up now bitter memories, "How far you have fallen sister." 

"Tch, this was not my first choice." You fake smile, pressing until you draw blood just to make it even. 

"Did Madem send you?" Even saying her name makes your stomach churn while Fox rolls her eyes. 

"Who else would send me to fetch their golden child?" She shrugs, using her quirk to make another cold weapon as you're distracted. Although you have the upper hand she still has enough room to sink another ice dark into your side, causing you to grit your teeth. 

"You're the fucking favorite now. What more does she want?" 

"You're her favorite, you both are. She wants a complete set." She purrs and it feels as if her ice is freezing your blood. Vision blurring from your rapid heart rate, from your rage and the venom. 

"What the fuck do you mean? What about her?! She is fucking unwel!" It echoes around in the ice and she smiles, playing you for the fool you were. 

"Exactly as I said. I wouldn't count your twin out just yet. You know how Madem lives for backups." She winks, as you feel exasperated. The poison coursing through your veins, your vision tries to spot but you push through.

"I'll let you go just this one Fox but if I ever fucking see you again-" She interrupts. 

"Please, you know the rules. Don't come home empty handed. Plus what you do to me will be far more mild than what Madem can think of." She spits blood onto your face, you bare your teeth and sweet drips onto her kimono.  You were running out of time. 

"ROUGE!" Bakugou shouts in the distance, earning a smile from Fox below. 

"Wow bold of you to keep the name." She laughs, "Well your weakness works in my favor. What a dream it would be to be captured by your boyfriend. Then I could tell him everything about me. About you." 

"You'd snitch? Just like that?" 

"Wouldn't you do anything to keep a loved one safe?" Her words sink deeper than any dagger, any ice pick, she's ever thrown. 

She's right. 

"ROUGE!" 

You would do anything. 

Huffing you do what you hadn't in well over a year and although you'd done it thousands of times. It never got easier. You press the blade deeper, letting it slice into her throat as a red line follows in her wake. She looks up at you with a soft smile, relief flooding her features as sweat prickles your brow. 

WARNING BLACK OUT IN TEN SECONDS, POISON X WILL BECOME LETHAL IF ANTIDOTE IS NOT ADMINISTERED WITHIN THE HOUR. COUNT DOWNS STARTS NOW :10,  59:59

With shaking hands you set the already melting blade into her hand, jumping over the other ice wall deeper into the alley as you hear heavy foot falls come your way. 

You fall into a heap yourself, pressing your hands into your wounds, tempted to attempt to activate double or nothing. Although it could kill you instantly with the status you were in now. 

A part of you hopes it does. 

7

The ash blonde blasts through the icy walls, spotting you in an instant. When he sees the perpetrator dead, his stomach churns as he reaches you. Your clammy to the touch and your support bracelet is flashing with an alert for a trusted on looker. 

5

PLEASE IDENTIFY YOURSELF 

It yells as Bakugou shouts his name. A little hologram of you shows up before your voice pours out. Silently you're thankful that you could tinker with the item enough that should you come across something from your past you could intercept some information. 

Or at least manipulate in your favor should you be rendered non verbal as you are now.  

3 

"It seems an especially strong poison has been introduced into my blood stream. The antidote will be elderberry tea, which can be found at these surrounding locations. Please do not take me to a hospital, by the time they identify the poison I will be long gone….I'm talking to you Bakugou. Get the tea. If I pass out, force activate one of my idle or passive buffs. Specifically Adrenaline high… Trust me, you're going to have to..." 

The world fades to black without any warning as you float in what feels like non existence. Probably the best sleep you'll ever get even when it's short lived. Like it is now. 

"Fuck." Bakugou hisses as the stupid translucent you blabbers on and on of ways to activate this dumb ass, complex, and mysterious as fuck quirk you had.  He thinks of how the mini you emphasized pain would be a trigger to activate the idle buff. He grips onto your forearm, thinking of doing a point blank blast. Best case scenario you'd have his palm burned into you for all eternity, worst case scenario you lost your whole fucking left half. 

"Fuck! FUCK!" He doesn't want to hurt you but he has to. He thinks of the limited time you have as an ominous timer floats in the air from your bracelet. He tries slapping you across the face first, nothing. Your cheek barely reddening as blood oozes from your wounds. Gritting his teeth and choking on his honor he hits you again, this time with the help of his quirk to add some force. 

When that doesn't work, his sadistic side comes out, fueled by his desperation and his gloved fingers subconsciously find the wound in your throat and shoulder.  Thinking to exploit it in order to rouse you. He lets out a low hiss as he plunges his fingers into the wounds, digging deep into the one in your shoulder. 

PASSIVE BUFF "ADRENALINE HIGH" ACTIVATED. 

Your eyes snap open, rage fueling them as you act on instinct, slamming your forehead into Bakugou's hard enough that it bruises both of you.

"OI FUCKING! I'M TRYING TO HELP!" He shouts, forearms popping as heat rushes up his spine from your landed hit. He pushes back his hair, rubbing his sweaty forehead before baring his teeth at you. 

"What the fuck?!" He snaps, "Who was that? Why is she dead?" 

"Another time yea?" You say weakly, lifting your wrist so he can read the time, "The tea still has to steep." 

You stand but wobble on your feet as warnings flash in your minds eye and thankfully not on your stupid support bracelet. Much to Bakugou's disdain, he needed to know what he was working with, not blindly trusting you. Especially not now with growing suspicions. 

ADRENALINE HIGH OVERRIDES DAMAGE AND POISON EFFECTS FOR THE NEXT 10 MINUTES COUNT DOWN STARTED 09:59

"Dismiss." You spit blood and the information fades away. You stumble like a drunk towards the mouth of the alley, avoiding your fallen sister as your mind races. 

"She wants a complete set." 

"Fuck." Is all you can manage thinking of your actual sister, hoping she was safe within the confines of her own prison. That needed to wait. Right now you needed that elder berry tea.  The closest shop carrying the product was several blocks away and at this rate you'd never fucking make it. 

Bakugou catches on, scooping you in his arms.

"Hold on tight Princess." He growls, propelling himself into the air to land a few store fronts away from your destination. 

"Can't believe you're dragging me down." He hisses, fully taking over holding you to him. He squeezes a bit tighter. Your stomach flips and you blame the poison. 

"If anything I'm bringing your image up. Imagine the paps seeing this bull shit. Headlines like 'Bakugou, the knight in shining armor saves the day.' Or some horse shit like that." You weakly tease, he glares down at you. 

"Tch. Fuck off. They'll find a way to twist it." 

"Well your mom will see it for what it is." You squeeze tighter around his throat, nosing the crook of his throat. You feel his laugh through his chest. 

"Yea and what's she gonna see?" 

"You saving me dumb ass." You pull at his hair and he glares down at you. 

"Great, now she'll force me to marry you. Is that what you want bitch face?" 

"I'd rather die first. Plus you wouldn't be able to afford my dowry, ass hat." You tease, all he can do is roll his eyes. 

"You're fucking right about that. Now where is the stupid elderberry bullshit?" He growls, waltzing through the front door as if holding you were nothing. 

IDLE BUFF ACTIVATED SLIGHT OF HAND INCREASED TO- 

"Dismiss." You whisper, vermillion burns into your skin, "Next aisle." 

WARNING: LACK OF EXPOSURE WILL CAUSE A LOSS IN EXPERIENCE. SLIGHT OF HAND WILL DECREASE 

Grinding your teeth you reach for an easy snack, shoving it into your shirt sleeve as Bakugou studies the tea. 

"Where?" He snaps, causing you to sigh heavily. You point with exaggeration to the small purple box. 

SLIGHT OF HAND MAINTAINED, EXPERIENCE PREREQUISITE MET, BUFF IDLED. 

You needed to think of a way to turn this annoying "emergency" mode off, but whenever you were in critical condition, the warnings would display non stop. Most of your quirk you had memorized but you had to admit, it had been a while since you last rolled for chance. 

For fun.  

"Grab something for Kirishima, you know how he gets when he worries. You need water too." 

"This ain't a fucking road trip!" He growls but oddly enough he moves to the back of the store towards the drinks. He grabs a code red for Kirishima and an energy drink for himself. You hold onto the cold drinks as he holds onto you and the tea awkwardly. Setting them on the counter fixing a nasty glare at the clerk. 

"R-Rouge and Dynamight wow!" They gush, about to ask for an autograph before ringing the two of you up. 

"Kinda on a time crunch kid." Your bracelet flashes 20:32 before the clerk understand the dire situation. 

"Oh, I'm so sorry. On the house." 

"Doesn't work like that." Bakugou snarls, eyeing you to get his wallet. Little does he know you already snatched it, pressing a twenty into his hands. He glares at you as best he can. 

"Keep the change." You're beginning to think that was his new catch phrase as he makes his way towards the hot water dispenser. Setting you on the counter while he let's the two bags steep per your holographic instructions. He taps his finger impatiently before cracking open his energy drink. 

It was going to be a long day. 

"I'm going to cancel with my mom." He says finally, reaching for his phone, "I'll still…" 

"No you fuck. Your mom expects both of us there. I'm not dying." 

"Yet, bitch face." He places the tea into your hands, "Think she'll be more pissed if you die in her living room than not show up."

He eyes your wounds, noticing the droplets of blood that followed in their wake, how your scent clung to his skin. He contacts Kirishima instead instructing him to get the first aid kit ready at his house. 

"When you're done with your tea. We're gonna get those wounds bandaged." 

"Nah I'll be fine, once the poison status is cleared. My other status will return to normal. I'm kinda like a pokemon." 

"Don't care, as your boss I'm telling you Imma wrap your wounds with Kirishima now drink your fucking tea." He hits your shoulder before a sadistic smile clouds his features, "Or am I going to have to activate your passive 'Adrenaline High'?" 

"Fuck off, I'm pretty sure I'm not gonna pass out with half the cup down." You shove him away from you as his pocket pings. 

"Only pretty sure? You're fucking stupid. You can check that." 

"Tired of my quirk today." You grumble while Bakugou glares at his phone, he turns it towards you, it's from his mother an article titled "Bakugou, the knight in not so shining armor?" Her text is in all caps beneath ARE YOU SAVING HER I SWEAR TO GOD BOY YOU NEED TO WATCH HER BACK BETTER SHE BETTER BE OKAY YOU BETTER BE OKAY

"Guess you'll have to propose to me now." You laugh sliding from the counter, something from around your throat catches his eye now that things have calmed down. 

An odd feeling burns in his chest as goes all the way to his fingers and toes and realization washes over him in waves. He sees a gold chain that leads down to what looks like the droplet of blood. The garner necklace he gave you. 

"Come on Kiri is probably waiting." You nudge, grabbing for Eijirou's soda, your own tea almost finished.  His eyes follow after you for a moment as he tries to figure out why you hadn't taken it off yet, he's never seen you wear jewelry before. 

There is no reason for you to wear it, still the feeling in his chest burns hotter. It makes him feel suddenly proud and oddly possessive. He grinds his teeth, skin popping as he stomps after you, yelling. 

"Don't you take credit for the soda I bought!"

[kenjikutie]

Starlight [Dabi x Single Mom!Reader]

summary: when you and your children are saved by a man covered in burns, you offer to repaire his staples and clean him up, an offer that gets you much more than you’d bargained for word count: 2.6k warnings: a tiny bit of violence pairing: dabi x fem!reader

waking up at five am every morning to prepare yourself for the day certainly was not how you saw your life turning out four years ago. but, the moment where you opened the door to your twin son’s room washed away all over your regrets and filled the space with nothing but love. you thanked whatever was above you each day that they had ended up looking like you, rather than their father. you didn’t know what you would have done if you had to look at his face for the rest of your life

kindly stroking hibiki’s cheek, you watched as your son squirm awake, blinking away the sleep in his eyes. you smiled softly and whispered your morning greeting to him, watching as he beamed at the sight of his mother. hibiki kicked his small legs at you, a signal for your attention. with a huff, you lifted your son from his bed and sat him on your hip, slightly ticking his sides to see him giggle

when you felt a small tug on your pant-leg, you glanced downward to see hitomu giving you a pout, clearly jealous of the attention his brother was getting. you set your hand on his head, ruffling his soft y/h/c locks before setting down hibiki to present them their outfits for the day. the two had rambled on and on last night about how excited they were to attend their first day of preschool

though you would never tell them, you were just as happy to get a day to yourself while your sons were taken care of. you had so many errands to run, bills to pay and groceries to buy. living as a single mother in the city was tough, both financially and mentally, but it was worth it. you didn’t want to rely on the boy’s father for anything

while you were caught up in your thoughts, hitomu took your hand in his much smaller one, showing you a bright smile, though it was missing a few teeth. he proudly held up his all might lunchbox and you came to the realization he was trying to imitate his idol. hibiki took your other hand, beginning to mutter about how the three of you should get going before they miss breakfast

after locking up the apartment, you kept a steady grip on their hands, not wanting them to get lost in all the hustle and bustle of the city. the boys seemed to glare at everyone who past you, taking their roles as the ‘men of the house’ very seriously. you, on the other hand, were focused on reviewing the route to their preschool, praying that you didn’t get lost along the way

suddenly, you felt a sharp tug on your elbow, causing you to gasp, preparing to let out a scream before a rough hand clamped over your mouth. hitomi and hibiki gripped tightly to you, calling out to you as the three of you were dragged into a nearby alleyway. you were harshly thrown onto the concrete, wincing when you felt your knees scrape against it, surely drawing blood

hibiki clung to your left side, burying his face in your stomach with a sob, “mommy! are you h-hurt?”

you reached upward and set your hands on his cheeks, “hitomi, take your brother and get out of here right now! please!”

darting your eyes around, you caught sight of hitomi but your stomach dropped down to the pits of hell when you saw what he was doing. hitomi had his hands balled up into fists, holding his all might lunchbox in front of him

“l-leave my m-momma alone!”

“hibiki, stop!”, you screamed, terrified of what could happen next

the man laughed, a cruel, wicked sound, before snatching the prized possession out of your son’s hands and throwing it against the brick wall, smirking when he heard it split open. you pulled yourself off the ground, doing the best you could to ignore the throbbing pain in your skull. swiftly, you wrapped your arms around hitomi’s torso, pulling him behind you

with a tightening of your fist, you laid a punch on the attacker’s face, wanting to scream from how bad it hurt. he wiped the blood off of his nose and gripped you by the collar, slamming his forehead onto yours, causing your vision to become nearly entirely black. you could hear your sons crying but couldn’t speak a word

then, a bright flash of blue brought back your vision, feeling yourself slip from the man’s hold and back to the ground. you didn’t even look back at the attacker, despite his screams of pain and agony. hitomi and hibiki were holding one another, tears running down their horrified faces. quickly, you held the back of their heads and tucked their faces into your chest, hoping to hide whatever gruesome thing was happening behind you

when everything went quiet, you shyly lifted your head, flinching when bright blue eyes stared right back at you. the man in front of you was lanky and tall, scars littering his chest and face, along with staples holding his normal skin together. he looked like he was in so much pain and it made your heart ache

“you good?”, he asked, voice gruff and rougher than any sandpaper

“n-no, but,”, you looked up at him with wide eyes, “thank you. thank you so much.”

he didn’t move or acknowledge your thanks, only walked behind you to pick up the lunchbox that now had a huge crack in it, right over the face of your son’s hero. hitomi pulled away from you reluctantly when he felt a tap on his head. his eyes watered at the sight of his lunchbox but he took it back anyways, clutching it to himself

you slowly stood up, but even that was too much for your head. your knees buckled as soon as you were on your feet and you would have fallen back down again had it not been for the hand that steadied your lower back. everything was turning hazy again and you were sure you head a concussion. the last thing you saw was the concerned eyes of your sons and their mouths opening, surely calling out your name

---

you slowly fluttered your eyes open, feeling yourself relax into the softness of a familiar bed. then, you remembered the events before you fell asleep. lifting yourself forward suddenly, you felt the pain in your head come back but you pushed it away, determined to know how you got home and where your children were

the first place you checked was the living room, heart beating even faster when you didn’t see them, only the mess that had been left from their toy playing session the other day. where were your sons? how did you get home? and where-

a relieved sigh left your lips when you opened the door your sons’ room, only to see them snoring softly in their racecar beds. you had never been happier than that moment. when a cough came from the doorway, you jumped, holding out your hands in defense while the figure chuckled

“geez, chill out jumpy. it’s all good.”

the man from before stared at you with humor in his eyes. a part of you said to hit him until he left your home, to chase him out but, another part was begging you to make him stay. you just had to know who had saved you from something so terrible

taking one last look at your sleeping sons, you joined him in the hallway, keeping the door open out of paranoia. he kept his eyes on you, making you more nervous by the second

“um, thank you for back there. if you hadn’t come-”

“you already thanked me. hit your head that hard, jumpy?”, he teased and you felt your fists clench

“well, im sorry if im a bit uneasy after being attacked in an alleyway!”, you threw up your hands and stormed into your room, hearing him cackle behind you but follow you nonetheless

taking a seat on the edge of your bed, you felt tears begin to pool in your eyes. hurriedly wiping them away with your hand, you could feel the bed dip beside you, but neither of you said anything. you held your face in your hands, softly crying your heart out

dabi winced at the sound, the noise of a mother sobbing bringing back memories he would much rather have forgotten. when he had seen you and your kids get pulled into the alleyway, he had contemplated doing nothing to help, just continuing back to the bar. but, the face that had comforted him throughout the nightmare that was childhood would not leave his mind until he saved you

you peeked out from between your fingers to see a tissue being dangled in front of your face. eyes widening, you reached out to accept it, dabbing at your eyes with the soft tissue

“im a failure of a mother.”, you whispered and dabi quickly placed his hand on your shoulder, turning you to face him

“from what i saw, you punched the dude in the face and managed to protect your kids even after gettin’ the life headbutted outta ya. you’re not a bad mom.”

when he began to stand up, you latched onto the sleeve of his long jacket, head hanging down, “why are you doing this? i don’t even know you.”

and at that moment, all he saw was his mother

“you remind me of someone i know.”

raising your head, you tossed the tissue into your garbage can and looked up at him with a pout. he nearly laughed at how much you looked like a little kid but your splotchy eyes made his heartache

“let me repay you.”, dabi raised his eyebrows with a teasing smirk and you blushed, “not like that! i meant that i could fix your staples, they look like they hurt.”

after thinking for a minute, he nodded, “lead the way, jumpy.”

---

dabi was sat on the edge of your bathtub, watching your every move. when you bent down to take the supplies out of the cabinet, his eyes trailed a bit lower but he shook his head with a smirk. you would so not be into that, he thought

“it’s probably gonna hurt but don’t worry, i took a few nursing courses in college so i don’t think i’ll kill you.”, you joked and it made him feel a bit better that you had calmed down

“that’s good to know, jumpy.”

you stood up and set a hand on your hip, looking down at the man with a look typically reserved for your children, “would you stop calling me that?”

kneeling down in front of the tub, you began to wet a cotton ball with some peroxide while dabi shook his head, “no can do. i don’t know what your name is.”

“well, i don't know yours either.”

“and you’re not gonna- jesus!”, dabi jumped at the sudden sting on his cheek and you quickly apologized, rambling about how it was supposed to hurt less if it was a surprise

the two of you entered a comfortable silence, you gently removing and replacing his staples after disinfecting his raw skin. dabi began to look around your bedroom, at least what he could see from the doorway. no photos of anyone but your kids and someone he assumed was your mom. the right side of the bed looked like it hadn’t been used

“your husband probably won’t be happy to find me here, ya know?”, he was pressing slightly, watching to see any reaction you made but your face stayed neutral as you tossed another cotton ball into the trash

“i don’t have a husband, just me and my sons.”, your eyes held sadness, a different one from earlier, this one was dull and seemed very old

“oh. did he-”

“yes.”, your hold on his skin turned harsher and dabi caught your wrist, meeting your eyes before pushing your hand back

“sorry.”, you muttered, going back to your work while dabi watched you intently

the father of your kids must have been someone pretty stupid to leave the three of you. your sons seemed to love you a ton, considering how their walk home consisted of one of them glaring at him while holding your hand and the other quietly telling him where to go

he remembered looking down at your face while you slept in his arms. you were one of the most beautiful women he had ever laid his eyes on, so it was only natural to think you had someone waiting for you at home. but, the only boys who had your heart where the four-year-olds who wouldn’t leave your side until they fell asleep

he had been so deep in thought that he hadn’t even noticed you had finished up. you were right. dabi felt much better. he could finally move his arms and face without feeling like he was about to rip his skin off. maybe he would come back here again if it ever got too bad

“thanks, jumpy.”, dabi said, watching as you glanced down at the tile floor

“y/n. i’m y/n.”, he hadn’t expected you to tell him your name, figuring your paranoia would still have the better of you

dabi fixed his coat and let you walk him to the front door, taking a glance at you from the side. you were gorgeous but, there was nothing he could do about it. he was one of the most wanted villains in japan. it was a miracle you hadn’t noticed who he was yet

the two of you stood in the entryway, you avoiding his gaze and him refusing to look anywhere else. he would probably never see you again with how his life was going but there was a pull in him, a part of himself he had locked away a long time ago, that wanted him to stay here, to fall in love with you

you felt a rough hand place itself on your cheek and you gasped, locking eyes with the man who had saved your life. dabi leaned in and couldn’t help but notice that you did too, but, all you received was a peck on the forehead

“you don’t have to leave, you know?”, you said and he could see the worry in your eyes, but it wasn’t fear for yourself

“sorry beautiful, but i have some prior engagements to take care of. but, you ain’t gotta worry, nothing like that’s gonna happen to you again.”, furrowing your eyebrows as the man opened your door, you reached out to grab him, but he was faster than you

“see you tomorrow morning, y/n.”

the end.

[loudsuitlover]

Bad mom

A/N: Doctor Harry’s Blurb again. I’m doing different things here and now the narrative is going to change. I feel like writing like this now. Hope you feel like reading like this too! 

He still holds her close in bed even after eight years of marriage. Who would have thought that he’d be such a cuddler? But then again he couldn’t possibly know for before he wouldn’t want to sleep with anybody else but now, fourteen years later, he gets a shiver if he thinks of not having the shape of her body marked on their mattress. 

She was already asleep when he got home and he would chop his own finger off before he woke her up these days so he checked on the kids, silently, just because he missed their chubby hands and the way they would stink his white shirts every time and how Hughie would say daddy and Dylan would always prefer his mum. They were both fast asleep on their matching beds, one on each far wall of the room and their room was a little messy so a small smile crept onto his lips for he reminds Blue telling him kids are just kids, babe, and they are messy and so is your wife, so you gotta get used to it. 

Baby Ana’s deep breaths soothe his heart as he watches his youngest baby’s cherry mouth opened buried under thick, pink lips just like her mum’s. Harry thinks she looks so much like Blue when she’s asleep but then she’d open her eyes and they would be a light green, just like his, and he never even dreamt about making someone so gorgeous. 

It might look weird from the outside, a man getting home after 16 hours of duty and watching his family sleep one by one but he’s so used to it he doesn’t question it anymore. If he gets home at night, he’d check on his sleeping babies and then he’d undress and get to bed next to his calm. 

She’s wearing one of his t-shirts and has her hands under her chin and looks like a little spoon even if the space behind her as remained unoccupied when she fell asleep. He smiles because that’s his spot and he feels his heart fluttering before he finally feels the soft mattress under his heavy lengs and he rests his head on the pillow, inhaling her scent through her soft natural hair and he gently places a hand on her waist, not wanting to disturb her, but in a second her hand find his and she takes them to her chest so he’s fully holding her. He smiles behind her, he’s not sure whether she’s awake or not, so he just presses a kiss against her cotton covered shoulder and let sleep take over him. 

He doesn’t know how long he’s been asleep for when he hears his youngest whimpering from her nursery but Blue’s already not in bed. Her spot is still warm though. He sinks his head on the pillow and stares at the ceiling only illuminated by the white moonlight coming in through the window and he waits for some minutes but when she doesn’t settle, he gets up and makes his way down the hall and towards his daughter’s nursery. 

His wife is holding her and she’s rocking her and whispering sweet nothings but the little one doesn’t stop crying so he notices, his wife is crying too. 

“Come on, lovie.” Her voice croaks. “I don’t know what you want...” 

Her hand cups her daughter’s cheek as she rocks and shushes her but she wonders why does it seem so hard for them to get along. She’s raised two boys already and even though they were indeed allergic to sleep at some points, she always calmed them down... With Ana though, she doesn’t seem to get it. 

“I don’t know what you want...” She repeats. “You’re not sick.” She whispers. 

Harry places a hand on her shoulder and she flinches scared. 

“Sorry” He whispers. 

She gives him a small smile and shakes her head. He won’t say he likes seeing her crying because he doesn’t, he hates it, but he likes that she’s not afraid to do that in front of him. His hand caress her shoulder warmly and she rests her head on his chest as she keeps rocking the fussy little one. 

“I’m sorry we woke you.” She whispers. “I just... I can’t settle her, Harry.” She cries too. “I don’t know what she needs, I... It took me forever to put her down last night and now...”

Her husband shushes her. He presses a kiss on her forehead and takes the baby from her and her cries become louder so he tells his wife to go back to bed. She needs to get out of there, she needs to stop watching her baby cry like that because it breaks her heart; it breaks her heart to think she might be in pain or hungry or scared and she can’t help her. Her baby girl doesn’t seem to find calmness on the arms of her own mother so she can’t help but feel like a failure. 

She makes her way inside the bathroom and she washes her desperate tears off with warm water before she has a look at herself in the mirror. She looks exhausted and she hasn’t played as much as she’d like with her boys today. She sent Hughie into the playroom earlier, right after dinner, because she just wanted to have a second of quiet and she feels terrible for that. She didn’t really listened to Dylan talking about that book he’s reading either, she pretended she did, but really she was thinking about the groceries she needed to get the following day; and God, she wished she would have listened to him. 

She wishes she was better. She knows they deserver better. All of them. The boys, the baby and her husband. She turns to the side so she can have a look at herself in the mirror. She hasn’t worked out in months and her belly hasn’t looked flat in more than a year and her hair is frizzy and her skin is dry and she has the darkest dark eyes she has ever even seen; and she’s a doctor, so that’s saying a lot. 

Tomorrow will be another day and she can plan everything again and she can have a schedule. She thinks Harry’s day off is tomorrow too so maybe he can take the children to Gemma’s and she can sign up at the gym or she can wake up at five, yeah, and have a run before the day starts. She doesn’t need time to read either, she probably spends too much time reading anyway, and instead she can actually play with her kids. She feels like she never really plays with them. 

She’s tiptoing along the thin line between sleep and reality when the door of their room half-shuts and her husband silently walks in. She doesn’t remember exactly when baby Ana had settled, but she knows it was him who calmed her down. She’s embarrassed but her hazel eyes meet his green ones and he’s giving her a warm smile despite the evident tiresome on his eyes. He’s been at the hospital working for more than 12 hours and she gets home to this... 

He leans closer to her and she wonders how he even has the will to do such a thing when she’s disguting and probably smells of milk, for her breasts still leak sometimes, and is the farthest thing from appealing she can think of. But he stills leans in and captures her dry lips with his on an innocent peck. He looks so good, he’s always had, and that two-days stubble look so good and she wants to cry again. 

“Go back to sleep, m’love.” He whispers. “Baby’s asleep too.” 

Her heart draws in. He put her down, she can’t even manage to calm her down. 

“Do you think I’m a bad mum?” 

Her hazel eyes bore into his and his heart breaks when he realizes she’s seriously waiting for an answer. So she really doesn’t know? She really thinks he might think that? 

“What are you talking about?” He frowns. “Where’s this coming from?” 

She turns her body so she’s facing the ceiling instead and her back is resting against the mattress. 

“Hughie said he liked daddy’s porridge better this morning” she starts “and I didn’t even know what he meant. I thought we did it the exact same way... And then Dylan was so excited telling me about his book and I didn’t pay attention to him” she sobs “and baby Ana, I think she just doesn’t like me.” She shrugs. 

“You’re her Mum.” Harry whispers. “Of course she likes you. She shushes faster with me because she can’t smell the milk but she wouldn’t go a day without you, I know that.” His fingers gather his wife’s tears as he keeps talking. “And Hughie just meant cinnamon because the other day we ran out of honey so I added cinnamon instead and he loved it. I must have forgotten to mentioned it to you. And about Dylan... Dylan tells you every little thing that comes to his mind, it’s normal that sometimes you disconnect, baby.” He chuckles and despite her tears she chuckles along. 

“He’s a very smart boy.” She says. “He thinks a lot and he’s pretty imaginative.” 

“I wonder who he got that from...” He jokes and she smiles at him. 

“I’m sorry.” She confesses. “I’m sorry that you get home to a wife who looks like she doesn’t know where the mirror is and who can’t manage to calm her own freaking baby and who... doesn’t even let you sleep at night with her senseless drama.” She rolls her eyes. 

“Hey” his fingers gently grip her chin and he makes her look into his eyes “I love you” he reassures her “like crazy and every hour I’m just counting how much longer until I get to be with you, okay? So don’t think that. Please. I love you, Blue and I’m so fucking glad and lucky for having you and the family we’ve made together. I wouldn’t change a thing.” 

“Not even my muffin top?” She pinches her belly and he chuckles. 

“Not even. I think your body is perfect.”

“No, you don’t.” She laughs. “I’m chubby.”

He rolls his eyes before he hovers her and pins her against the mattress. His lips smash against hers in an almost teenage way and she feels that same fire on the pit of her stomach, much like she did fourteen years ago and he feels like a hormoned boy, despite his forty-one years of life and he thinks he’ll always feel vulnerable and desperate for her. 

“I thought we were past this, love.” He whispers against her lips. “You’re the sexiest woman on Earth.” 

His hand moves down to her ass and he squeezes her flesh making her smile. 

“And you say you never lie.” 

“That’s right.” He kisses her again. “I don’t.” 

“I love you.” She says against her lips. 

“I love you too.” 

He aligns his hips with hers. His right hand supports his weight on the mattress next to her head while the other squeezes her flesh on her ass and hips. He’s never been able to understand why or how she could ever get insecure and during their time together, it’s true she’s gotten a lot better, but she has still sometimes been insecure about her body and he’s hated every time. 

But they understand each other; they’ve had for years and he’s never stopped wanting to be close to her. Ever. His hand moves down to her belly and he slips his fingers under the hem of her sweatpants and her knickers, feeling how wet she is on his fingertips. 

“Mhm, baby” He hums against her lips. 

“Yeah, embarrasingly wet, I know” she giggles “you’re so hot, H, there’s nothing I can do.” 

He laughs against her mouth. Is that what she really thinks? Well, he attracts female’s attention, he’s not an idiot, he notices that; but he’s getting some grey hairs now too and she’s still six years younger, like she’s always been, and she really is the most beautiful woman he knows. He’s seen his coworkers staring at her and her own students whispering about it when she gets a male one in practice. But somehow, she sleeps in his bed every night and she could leave but she doesn’t so she must feel the same way. 

His fingers thrust inside her and she arches her back and moans. He keeps kissing her and is amazed at how in these moments, it feels like time haven’t passed. She’s the same Blue and he’s the same Harry but they’ve moved in together, they’ve gotten married, they’ve done surgeries together, they’ve had three kids, they’ve bought a house, he’s been sick and she’s taken care of him; she’s been sick and he’s taken care of her; and he wouldn’t change her or anything they have together for anything in the world. 

It’s in these moments too, when Blue doesn’t feel like she has to be better or like she’s not doing enough; she is enough. She’s more than that. She’s what he wants and she’s what she wants too and everything is fine. She’s lucky, she’s so damn lucky for the family she has and for the husband she married and for everything else. 

His fingers speed up and she sinks her head on the pillow so his mouth attacks her neck and she moans louder. 

“Baby, we’re gonna wake Anie up.” 

“Then be quiet.” He whispers on her ear. 

She giggles at that and his teeth skim her skin as he grins but his fingers keep moving in and out of her and he’s touching just that place she loves and she needs him so bad. She loves him and she wants him and she so desperately wants to feel him stretching her like every other time he’s had her before. 

“Baby” she moans “if we wake her up...”

“We won’t.” He whispers. 

“It’s so hard to put her down...”

“Yeah, I know, it really is hard to put this down.” 

She giggles again and he chuckles at his own joke but his fingers keep bringing her to the edge and her nipples are getting harder as she bites her bottom lip. 

“Do you want me to stop?” He smirks, already knowing the answer. 

“No” She gasps “but you should.” 

“There’s something down here that doesn’t agree.”

He chuckles as her walls start throbbing around his fingers and her back arches as she feels her mind leaving her body and strong waves pushing all her stress out of her too. 

Harry smiles and rests his forehead against hers. 

“Better?” 

She nods. 

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” 

She nods again and her hands cup his jaw as she kisses him deeply. He’s a sucker for these kisses, when her tongue pushes inside his mouth and she lets him know how much he means to her. 

“But we might wake Anie up...” He grins. 

“Oh, shut up and fuck me.” 

He laughs. 

He takes her sweatpants and knickers off and she does the same with his white boxers. His hard lenght springs free and hits her wetness and he circles his hips so she can feel him adding pressure on her. His hands grip her waist and she knows he’s seconds away from thrusting inside her so she takes a deep breath and gets ready to take him and like that his manhood slips inside her inch by inch and she throws her head back and sighs.

He pushes in and out of her slowly and her hands stick to his shoulders and his biceps as she pulls him closer. Her soft fingers tangle on his hair and she pulls from it so his mouth covers hers and he bites on her full bottom lip. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He whispers and despite the years, he sounds so sexy to her, he always does when he wants to. 

“Yes.” She gasps. “But I want more.” 

She feels him smiling against her mouth and supporting his weight on her waist, he threads her onto him again harder and faster and her head spins until she’s afraid it might turn molten. She feels her own bowels bouncing inside her and the screams get stuck on her throat as he keeps pushing in and pulling out of her. 

“Don’t stop, Harry, don’t stop.” 

“Fuck.” 

Her low moans mix with his grunts and her hands travel across his skin, almost marking him when he hits the right spot and his hands hold her waist as he pushes inside her. He only feels like this when he’s fucking her and that’s why he’s addicted to her because this is the best feeling in the world, when his heart flutters and he can feel his pulse on his temples and his skin is covered in sweat and goosebumps and he can feel the urge to cum on his spine. He loves her. He loves this woman with everything he has and everything he doesn’t. 

“That’s it, love.” She whispers on his earshell. “Fuck me, I needed this so bad. I fucking love you, H.” 

“Fuck” he grunts “I love you.” 

She holds his shoulders close to her chest and they gasp into each other’s mouths as he keeps pounding inside her. She can feel the weight of overwhelming pleasure falling over her and she can think of nothing other than him and the way he sounds and the way he smells and how he’s touching her inside. Her legs tremble around his hips. 

“Come on, baby” He whispers “Cum for me.” 

He’s close. He’s so fucking close, he’s not sure he can hold it in anymore. Yet he wants to feel her. He knows she needs this but he needs her just as much. 

“Cum with me, baby.” 

She does and she feels his hot, sticky cum filling her and a wide smile draws on her face and she sinks her head on the pillow but he pulls from her chin so he can kiss her and he does it deeply and slowly and she can feel it, how much he loves her, and she just loves him back. 

They don’t say anything else until they fall asleep tangled up on one another. 

The four of them are awake when she wakes up and as she makes her way to the kitchen, she can’t help the little smirk on her face. Harry made sure she could sleep in and that alone warms her heart so walking inside the kitchen and finding her little smurfs sitting on the table helping their daddy make breakfast drives her crazy from love. 

Baby Anie jumps on Harry’s hip and stretches her arms out for her and she feels her heart about to explode with love for the little angel. It seems like they’re back to being friends. Harry gives the baby a look before his eyes meet with hers. They smile, sharing the secret of what happened hours ago in their bed, and she mouths a silent thank you and he mouths back love you. 

She takes the baby from his hip and pecks his lips swiftly and her boys look up from the pancakes and smile at her. 

“Morning, mummy!” Dylan hugs her waist and her fingers caress his dark straight hair as she hugs him close. 

“Morning, dear. Morning, Hughie.” 

“Morning, mummy!” Hughie grins. “We made pancakes!”

“Yeah, they smell awesome! Thank you, boys!”

“And read, read what we wrote on them!” Dylan cheers. 

“Dy wrote it!” Hughie explains with evident proud on his voice and she smiles down at him. 

On the pancakes, on wobbly Nutella 5-years-old boy’s handwriting, can be read “Best mummy ever” and a heart and her eyes get teary because she hasn’t been feeling that lately. She gives Harry a look as if saying don’t do this to me in front of the kids but he just grins and shrugs as if he hadn’t orchestrate the whole thing. 

“I drawed the heart!” Hughie catches her attention and she smiles at him. 

“It’s drew, Hugh” Dylan corrects him “you drew the heart.” 

“Yes, I did.” He smiles. “Chopsy mixed the flour.” 

He had come up with that nickname for his baby sister on his own and his mum had grown to love it, sometimes calling her Chopsy herself. 

“You did such a great job, my lovely.” Her voice almost croaks. 

And Dylan, being the oldest of them three, even if he was just five years old, tilted his neck up so he can look into his mum’s eyes. She gives him a smile but he can somehow see it, even if he doesn’t fully understands, he kind of knows so his small hand rests on top of hers.

“You really are.” He whispers. “The best mummy ever.” 

Her lip trembles and she has to chuckle so she doesn’t freak the little boy out when she wipes her tears away. 

“Thank you, baby.” She kisses his cheeks and his little arm wraps around her shoulder. 

Baby Anie’s hand gently slaps her brother and he shuts his eyes when their mum starts laughing. 

“I love you.”

Blue kisses her boys’ foreheads and they both start eating while she sets Anie on her high chair. Her husband is moving around the kitchen, setting his and his wife’s forks and their cups of coffee, when she presses her hands on his chest and stops him. 

“And you too.” She smiles. “I love you so much.” 

[everythingsinred]

Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: Natsume (pt. 15)

I'm posting this on time! Yay! I'll try to be timely tomorrow as well. Be patient with me if I can't ;-;

This will be the final part of the New Year's Arc. Natsume and his friends reunite and fight to save Aoi. Unfortunately, this fight will take a victim, and for once it's not Natsume.

Chapter Sixty-Six

We see Natsume again, still in a stand-off with Yakumo. Things change, however, when Nobara “wakes up” in a trance. All thoughts of getting Natsume out of the dungeon are gone from her mind now. She’s just another of Persona’s weapons, ready to fulfill her orders without any pesky hesitation or guilt.

And even later, when Mikan rejoins the group, we can see that Natsume is guarding his friends with his alice while Nobara’s rages on. He suggests he and Mikan work together to stop Nobara. He can use his alice to protect them from the ice, and she can use hers to stop Nobara’s alice completely. It’s interesting that Natsume has gotten to such a nonviolent point. He doesn’t even like Nobara, since she’s a teacher’s pet and he doesn’t trust her at all. But he knows she doesn’t mean any ill will and it’s not her fault that she’s attacking them now. He could think first of trying to attack her, but it would be much safer for her if Mikan simply nullified her instead.

He’s come such a long way, from attacking Hotaru and Iinchou so Mikan would spill her alice to now choosing a less violent approach to tackling a person who should be an ally. Now, he won’t be nonviolent in every regard, and there’s little reason he should be, but moments like this are noteworthy. Even more, he’s the one to suggest to Mikan that they work together. They could be a team, like she’d wanted in the Z Arc. They could work together to beat Nobara, and Natsume is willing to admit he won’t be able to do it alone. Ultimately, he’s asking for help, and Natsume never does that.

"Let's do it together," because he can finally ask for help.

But really, for Mikan, it doesn’t take much effort at all. In fact, Mikan uses her nullification to get Nobara entirely out of the trance in no time at all. Nobara runs away, ashamed, and Persona emerges from the woodwork, irritated that he has to do all the work himself.

Mikan breaks Nobara out of it without any help, all on her own. It's foreshadowing for all Mikan will do by herself in the rest of this fight. Natsume wants to work together, but he would never want her to take on everything by herself.

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Persona’s presence has only inspired anger. Natsume attempts to attack him, but he’s no match against Persona when he’s carrying Nobara’s alice stone as protection. Persona then informs Natsume that he’s lost the deal. After all, Rui and Hayate weren’t defeated by him, rather by the people who followed after him. Therefore, Natsume won’t be allowed to leave the dungeon or ever see his sister again.

Despite all his best efforts, he's failed. All these risks he's taken in the past two days have been for nothing, have even caused more of a mess. And if he's stuck in a dungeon, not only will he truly never be able to save Aoi, but he won't be able to see Mikan or Ruka either. It's not like Persona doesn't have the power to do this, either. This is a genuine threat, and if he and his friends lose here, then Natsume will be screwed for good.

Mikan stands up for Natsume, but Persona attacks her, only stopped by one of Ruka’s mice, who quickly demonstrates what happens when someone is caught by Persona’s alice, the touch of death or corrosion alice. Only Natsume (and we, the readers) knew what his alice was prior to this, and it creates a new atmosphere of danger. Getting hit could get you killed. Any misstep could be deadly.

Something interrupts the fight, though. Aoi is shuffling down the hall, gripping the walls since she is blind.

She calls out to Persona, to Mikan, to the very few people she’s had in her life for the past two and a half years.

This is the first time Natsume has seen her in just as long, and he calls out to her. He wasn't supposed to see her. This was a trap, after all, and he'd been told he'd never see her again. To be able to see her despite that is excellent luck (and because of Mikan's help). He nearly can't believe that it's really happening. What follows should be a dramatic and emotional reunion. Sadly, that's not the way it goes.

Natsume failed Aoi so much. Look what he's done. She's blind and has amnesia all because of him.

He approaches, but before he can reach her, she asks nervously who he is. She's blind, so there's no way she'd recognize his face, but she can't place his voice either. It's like a sucker-punch, not being remembered at all by one of the most important people in his life. It's not just that she's blind--that's shocking news too--or that she's been held captive in a dungeon for years. She also can't remember him at all. To make matters even worse, Aoi asks instead for Persona. Natsume is immediately shocked. He’s been putting himself on the line tirelessly for years, and she has forgotten him. It’s just another way in which he’s failed to protect her, since she doesn’t even remember her life anymore. And for his role in her life to be filled instead by Persona is even more cruel.

Persona has been abusing Natsume for years while manipulating Aoi into feeling pity for him. One moment, he seems to treat Aoi with kindness, and the next he goes to Natsume and threatens her safety if he doesn’t obey. It’s enough to make anyone’s blood boil, and Natsume is understandably hurt.

Mikan, who has met Aoi already, tries to remind her that Natsume is her real brother, but Persona is eager to get back to business, so he dispatches Yakumo to immobilize Ruka, Hotaru, and Mikan.

Persona goes right back to manipulating Aoi, lying to her and telling her that Natsume is responsible for her loss of sight and memories. But Natsume doesn’t care about being hated or loved, he only cares about protecting. He stands in front of Aoi and tells her to run. This time, no matter what, he will protect her. He won’t ever let her be hurt again.

Natsume has been blaming himself for what happened to Aoi for years. The job of protecting her was put on his shoulders since he was little. It’s always been his duty to keep her safe, so if she is unsafe, it means he failed. He’s just a little kid. He may have a powerful alice, but he is ultimately powerless. He’s up against government controlled entities and adults with influence. He couldn’t do any more to protect Aoi than he already did, but he’s been living with the guilt of not doing the impossible, because he was told that was his duty. Natsume feels like a failure whenever he can’t properly protect someone because he thinks that’s all he’s good for. He will take the hits for everyone else, will take responsibility for everyone, put himself in the face of danger and death to keep everyone but himself safe.

To be hated or loved or entirely forgotten has nothing to do with his life's mission anyway. Natsume gives unconditionally. He doesn't want anything in return, because it's not an exchange to begin with. The people around him are precious, and their happiness and safety is important. They should have long, pleasant lives. He's just a soldier in comparison. His life was always going to be short anyway, so why shouldn't be dedicate himself entirely to preserving the happiness of others? Protect, protect, protect. Sacrifice, sacrifice, sacrifice. It's all he knows. How other people feel about him doesn't change his purpose at all. Whether he does it openly or in secret, he exists only to protect.

Aoi was his biggest failure, in his mind. He won’t allow anything to stop him from protecting her this time, to make up for the time he failed. His determination and promise of protection triggers memories in Aoi. She knew her brother very well, knew all his nuances and quirks. She's the one who first explained to Ruka that he's endlessly selfless, always protecting. If Natsume is anything, he's a martyr. He will make a bold proclamation of protection, or stand in front of somebody to guard them, or take a hit in somebody's stead. She can't help but recognize it, his most outstanding character trait. Nobody in the world is quite like Natsume in this way. She says his name, shocking and distracting him. He hadn’t meant to have her recall him. He was just doing his job as her older brother to protect her. Again, Natsume is resigned to being hated, disliked, and even forgotten, so long as he can do his job of protecting people. Of course it surprises him when it’s exactly that loyalty and protection that reminds Aoi who her most important person is.

Natsume just needed to be as much himself as he could and it triggered Aoi remembering him. If only this sort of thing could work every time.

But Persona isn’t as touched as the rest of them are. Aoi has lost her utility. She remembered Natsume and can no longer be effectively manipulated. Before he can turn his alice on her, though, Mikan saves the Hyuuga siblings. It's Natsume who initially told her in the Z Arc that she has to be vigilant, always watchful, when you're in a dangerous situation after all. If Natsume is distracted, and can't be vigilant, then Mikan will be in his stead. The danger persists, and despite Natsume's readiness to protect his sister, it's Mikan once again who tackles him, nullifying him, but also knocking his alice restraining mask off his face.

Now that Mikan has touched Persona directly without his mask on, she’s certain to die.

Chapter Sixty-Eight

Even Yakumo is put off by Persona’s actions. He obviously never expected to actually be involved in the murder of a little girl. Persona shrugs it off, calling it nothing more than an accident, but that sets Natsume off.

Mikan got in the way to protect him and his sister, and now she will die.

He was willing to work as a team, but he is not willing to watch her completely take on his duty as the resident martyr.

Natsume doesn't like being protected. It's his job, after all. His life is meaningless in comparison to everyone else's. Not only is it destined to be short anyway (so who cares if it ends earlier than later?) but being protected by somebody else means he failed. Somebody is hurt because of him. Natsume is angry at Persona more than anything, but he's also disappointed in himself. Mikan should never have to take an attack for him. She got hit because he was distracted and because he didn't stay vigilant. She's hurt because he didn't do his job correctly.

He goes berserk, his fire alice raging on, despite the barrier. He screams at Persona, but it’s not enough. He hunches over in pain and gasps. Keeping up his alice like this with the barrier is difficult, and even in his anger he can’t keep it up for long.

When Hotaru tries to attack Persona, he moves to get her instead, and Mikan, already struck by his alice, decides to hit him again. Natsume is horrified. He can yell at Persona all he wants, and could even kill him, and it wouldn’t undo the damage Mikan has just now taken for her friends. She’s done for already, but each hit of Persona’s alice has her that much closer to death.

This must feel awful, Natsume. Watching somebody hurt themselves ceaselessly to protect others and not being able to do anything to help. It's a good thing you'd never put anybody in that position, especially after experiencing it for yourself, right? RIGHT?

Mikan bravely declares that she will take all of his hits, to do anything to protect her friends. She tells them to run for it and leave her to face Persona, but Aoi rushes to confront Persona. She still mistakenly thinks there’s a bond between them, that maybe she can get through to him, but he quickly proves her wrong, telling her that he won’t hesitate to use his alice on her as well if she doesn’t move aside.

He’s about to attack her, but Mikan gets in the way, not keen on her sacrifice being for nothing. She protects Aoi, perhaps in Natsume’s stead. In her final sacrifice, she is able to crack his earring, which protects him from “looking like a monster”, and now he looks on the outside the way he does on the inside, entirely corrupted by his own alice.

Now Persona is no longer a threat, as he has run away, but there remains the problem of Mikan, who has been directly hit by his alice and doesn’t stand a chance of surviving.

This whole thing is quite interesting. Natsume is practically useless here. He doesn't protect anybody: not Mikan, not Aoi, not anybody. In fact, he's the one who has to be protected. Mikan did in one day what Natsume has been doing his whole life, and she's paying for it with her life, which is what happens when somebody always chooses the happiness of others over their own.

He's so physically unwell that even his anger and rage can't assist the situation. He can't do anything. Mikan gets hit over and over and over again and all he can do is watch helplessly. You'd think an experience like this would perhaps inspire some understanding in him. Watching somebody die for you is horrible, especially when you feel so powerless as it happens. You cannot stop it from happening. You just watch as they die. But Natsume does not come away from this, thinking about the potential consequences for his martyr complex. Instead, he will do everything he can to make sure nobody ever hurts themselves to protect him again. He will protect everyone even more, to save them from the death that awaits them if they have to protect him.

If they protect him, after all, it's his fault for not being as observant, for not doing a better job. He's the soldier, the martyr. He's the one who should die for others.

Chapter Sixty-Nine

Natsume went into the dungeon, willing to give up his life, fully aware that he might never see his friends again, because it was worthwhile to him as long as he could save his sister. Despite his determination, Natsume couldn’t protect anybody. Mikan protected him, protected Hotaru, protected Aoi. The girl he loves is going to die now, and it’s his fault, because he couldn’t actually protect anybody and in turn had to be protected.

Mikan was also saying very Natsume-esque things, like “it doesn’t matter what happens to me, as long as the people I care about are safe”, and willing to give up her future for the sake of Natsume and Aoi’s futures together. He’d never wanted to be on the receiving end of selflessness. That’s his job. He’s supposed to be the one sacrificing and dying for everyone else.

In this moment, he’s powerless, because for all his talk, Aoi is free because of Mikan, and now Mikan will die, and he can’t do anything about it.

Because of this, when they all rush to Subaru and Sakurano to get Mikan immediate medical help, Natsume speaks up and takes responsibility. He promises to take Aoi and leave the academy so nobody else will suffer because of him anymore. Besides, he won’t be allowed to live normally at the school anymore anyway (he'd be in a dungeon), and it’s best for everyone, in his mind, to have him out of their hair.

His determination crumbles when Mikan wakes up just enough to sadly ask him if he’s really leaving. She looks upset at the thought of him gone, and all his resolve falls apart.

He was supposed to be protecting her and he failed. She had to take it all on because he messed up, and now she's dying. And on top of that, he's hurting her, telling her he's going to leave her. He put her in this situation and now he's just gonna leave? What kind of monster is he?

Well, he was going to but how is he supposed to do it now when you look so sad?

He can't ever leave her.

But the upperclassmen rebuke his plan anyway as unrealistic and unsound. Natsume is physically distressed and Aoi is blind, so escape will not be so easy. Besides, there’s no guarantee that Natsume taking all the blame will mean anything to the ESP, who will simply punish everyone else involved in his stead. His plan was idealistic.

But Ruka brings up a good point: why should Aoi be forced to stay in the academy when she isn’t even an alice anymore? This leads to a better plan: cause a much bigger scandal around the academy than what happened in the Hana Hime den dungeon. They’d force the school’s hand and possibly be able to get out of the situation largely unscathed.

He stands by Aoi's side. He's going to protect her and save her, because he couldn't do it before. More than that, he knows he can't leave. He'll do what he can to prove to Aoi how much she matters because he won't be coming with her and she might not see him for quite some time, if ever again. If Aoi is safe, he can focus more energy on protecting others, especially Mikan, who will need all the protecting she can get now that she's upset the academy higher ups.

For now, what matters is that they start a scandal around Aoi being held captive and abused by the academy for years.

As a result, a riot breaks out, with people either outraged that a non-alice was allowed in their midst for long or because the Hyuuga siblings suffered so much so that Natsume could become a child soldier. Thus the ESP is distracted with trying to suppress that, though he does still blame Mikan for the whole thing.

Chapter Seventy

While Mikan recuperates, strangely saved by her mysterious stealing alice, Natsume has been causing mayhem with his sister. The school is unhappy and there will be serious consequences to come, but at least he won’t be trapped in a dungeon, and Mikan won’t die.

In fact, because this scandal has exposed the truth about Natsume's situation, on the surface, the school will have to put an end to the abuse they put him through. No more beatings. No more missions. It's all about PR, and apparently people don't like seeing that kids are abused by their school. For a moment, it might really seem like things will be looking up for him. Unfortunately, nothing is quite so simple.

It is time to say good-bye to Aoi, because she cannot be forced to stay with all the scandal surrounding her. Many kids are there, which Natsume points out since it was supposed to be a secret send-off.

So many people came because they wanted to meet Aoi and because they have come to the conclusion that because Aoi is leaving, Natsume has no reason to stay either. After all, he only came to the school to keep his sister safe. Now that she won’t be held over his head anymore, why would he stick around?

Yes, he stayed for Mikan and all that, but Natsume is somehow still somewhat surprised that so many other kids in Class B care about him and don't want to see him go.

And then we see a flashback, where Aoi begs Natsume to leave the school with her, even pleading that he doesn’t leave her on her own anymore. But Natsume doesn’t have a choice. Like Sakurano and Subaru said, even if it was feasible for him to leave the school, leaving would only put the rest of them in danger. They would be held responsible for what happened in his stead and they’d be punished for his sake. And Aoi was not the only person being held over his head to begin with. Ruka and Mikan and even Yo-chan are incredibly important to him, and they have also been used as blackmail for Natsume to perform on missions.

And more than anything, Mikan almost died to protect him. He failed and she got hurt, and he can't ever allow something like that to happen again. He will do anything he can to keep her safe going forward, and that will involve a great deal of sacrifice in the future. But he's always been the protector, so he is willing to throw himself into the role of being Mikan's guardian angel. From now on, it's all about her. He simply won't allow himself to fail her again.

He tells Aoi that he can’t leave. His friends are here. But he promises to see her again, when he leaves the academy. Aoi understands, and she’s happy for her brother that he has so many people he cares about who care about him too. She used to be the only one who really understood him, how selfless he was and how many burdens he was carrying. But now he’s properly understood by so many people. She can count on them to look after him.

Natsume grew up with the idea that he has to look after other people. Aoi tells his friends to look after him, letting it be known that Natsume needs to be protected sometimes too, and that he can’t be allowed to sacrifice himself forever.

Then, Natsume is able to see his father again, for the first time since he told the driver to speed up. His dad hugs Aoi, and the gate is closed, but Natsume still goes to hug them both through the gate. The moment is touching, as it’s the first time Natsume has been able to contact his family at all in more than two years, but it’s cut short. He can’t stand by the gate forever, after all.

Listen I tried my best but this picture got me bursting into tears.

This whole moment in time is just like the family visit: too short. It should be enough that we can see Natsume happy, right? He will get everything he wants for one split second, and then he will go right back to suffering, because that's how he was always meant to be. Eternally suffering for the sake of everybody else.

Mikan is then reminded that they all have to be on their best behavior going forward or they’ll risk losing stars, but losing any stars for Mikan would send her right back to being a no-star again. In response to her panic, Ruka tosses his stars. It’s only symbolic. He’s still a triple, of course. But tossing them is supposed to represent solidarity with Mikan, and understanding from Natsume. Those stars symbolized Natsume’s suffering and endless trauma. By throwing them, Ruka is telling him that he understands what Natsume went through for them, and that he’s okay with a no-star status if Natsume is less burdened. After all, Natsume shouldn't be going on missions anymore. If Ruka's star rank is lowered, it's worth it, because Natsume will be safe and happy in exchange.

Ruka is now intent on helping to protect Mikan’s smile, no matter the cost. He then thinks, “You’ve been ready to do that for a long time, haven’t you, Natsume?”

Natsume is very smiley for a kid whose gonna go "volunteer" to suffer endlessly for his friends and the love of his life.

After all, Natsume is staying, more or less, to protect his friends, namely Mikan, who almost died to protect him. He won’t let her give any more up for his sake. That’s his job, and he’ll go back to serving it with no hesitation. His missions are supposed to stop. Coercing him will no longer be about holding Aoi over his head. The school instead will shape it like it's his idea, his choice. He can stop, if he wants, but if he chooses to continue, very good things will happen for his friends.

His suffering in the DA class is about to get a lot worse.

Conclusion

Natsume put his life on the line, risking everything to save Aoi, but in the end Mikan is the one who paid the price. Instead of viewing Mikan's sacrifice as affectionate or touching, he's angry with himself for having put her in the situation to begin with. He will never allow her to be in danger again. No matter what happens, he will be there to protect her. It has just become his life's mission. Though Aoi is safe and his missions and abuse under the school should end, they have really only just begun.

Like I was saying, Natsume doesn't do very much at the end of this arc, which is kind of the point, but it also leaves some chapters' analysis somewhat threadbare. I apologize for that.

Going forward, we'll see that Natsume has a new attitude. The illusion of choice regarding the abuse he faces from the school has given him some semblance of peace, because he's content with his duty of protecting Mikan. Every smile from her means he's doing his job right.

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[midnightmoonkiss]

Painful Stings & Sweet Apologies

Yandere! Izuku Midoriya X Fem! Reader

Summary: Rage fueled by failure, Izuku finds comfort in a bar, only to come home to a broken promise and a furious darling. He didn’t mean for this to happen.

WARNINGS!: blood, violence, alcohol (Izuku under the influence)

Category: Angst, one-sided fluff

Word Count: 9k+

A/N: This is my first yandere fic! I’m nervous as hell, I have no idea if I got this right lol. Though I did spend months perfecting it to the best of my abilities! Hope you enjoy~

Just To Clarify:

You’re both adults

It’s Friday

It’s cold and rainy (naturally--)

Izuku’s bedroom has a walk in closet and a bathroom

the kitchen is off-limits

THIS IS A YANDERE FIC!

Izuku is an obsessive yandere~

Cold, burning liquid rushed down the male’s throat as he gulped at the drink within the short glass.

Whiskey, or more specifically - a Jack Daniels, the honey-brown alcohol that delivered a bitter slap to all those who drank its refreshing nectar. 

It wasn’t his usual drink, and certainly not one he’d ever guzzle like a parched beast.

Hell, who in their right mind would do that? Even with a single sip, it left your chest burning with its heat.

But desperate times call for desperate measures, right?

Or, more of, self-loathing times call for a quick, one-way ticket to Forget-Me Ville and Cringe Island.

The bar he sat at was lively, filled with drunken laughter and slurred speeches of men and women who have been out for far too long.

But it was Friday night, so who cared?

A rainy, cold, sucky, depressing Friday night, one of which his friends tried to make a bit better by taking the pissed off, green-haired hero out for drinks.

They certainly hadn’t expected Izuku, an innocent little guy who couldn’t handle his liquor for shit, to shoot down an entire glass of whiskey.

At first, he ordered a simple beer - a starter drink if you will.

It didn’t take but ten minutes for him to gulp that glass down, and he was onto his next drink - a sangria wine cooler. His typical drink. He always was more of a fruity guy, after all, preferring the sweet tang over the bitter bite.

But as the night raged on, and so did his inner turmoil, he kept ordering stronger and stronger drinks, until he got to the whiskey. You could say he lost his sense of reason a while ago.

He was still seething with rage, not as much as before but the mixture of anger and frustration swirled hotly with the alcohol pumping through his veins and sitting in his belly.

You could say it was keeping him warm in this lifeless atmosphere.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t think of you, his precious little darling. He could barely think straight, mind occupied with too many thoughts to be able to understand any of them. It was all a garbled mess, one he chose to ignore.

Was that a good or a bad thing? He’d find out later.

But for now?

He needed another drink.

In the beginning, this Friday seemed like it was going to be one of the best he’ll ever have.

For months this pro hero has been working alongside detectives with catching a murderous villain known by the name “Ghoul.”

They were sick and twisted, their motives unknown, their trail hard to tract.

He had only one encounter with them, but he was too late to catch them.

That’s the day he was brought in to help aid the case.

But, that day haunted him for weeks. He knew that if he had arrived at the bloody scene sooner, he could have captured that cannibalistic fuck, brought justice to those who had already died by their mangy hands.. and prevented the deaths that would ensue after.

He’d known horrible villains before, but this one was different. Their teeth were sharp, blood permanently stained their clothes, and they gave off a wolfish vibe. Yes, a hunter. One who tore flesh from human bones and munched on it until someone screamed in terror for help.

For months he helped gather intel, piece puzzle pieces together, aid with location predictions and stakeout missions, until finally - they found that bastard.

It was more of a hunch than anything really, that Ghoul would show up to that site.

Ghoul, while hard to track, left a pattern in their wake. They avoided certain areas, thrived where the poor were at their weakest. The murders always seemed to happen at the exact same time behind run-down fast-food restaurants.

It was unclear if the sicko liked a hearty human meal with their victims own stomachs filled with greasy, fattening food, or if it was just convenient to them, either way - the perp was too damn sloppy.

To regular ol’ police personnel, the murders would just always happen there, behind restaurants.

But after Deku’s team began tracking where each and every murder occurred, it was quite easy to tell they were drawing, funnily enough, a circle around the city’s map.

It was stupid, childish, and downright idiotic, but damn if that didn’t lead the team to find the cold-blooded killer.

Adrenaline and pure hatred for the villain fueled Deku’s onslaught of attacks, each seemingly more powerful and less calculated. His mind was muddled.

He was filled with rage, finally being able to see the shitty excuse of a human again, but it affected his movements. He was being hasty, careless, not his usual calculated self.

And that’s what brought him his demise.

His shoulder was harshly bitten, razor-sharp teeth tearing through the fabric of his suit and shredding up the skin on his shoulder. Their quirk pumped through his blood instantly, making him collapse onto his knees, paralyzed. He hissed in pain as the sickeningly warm liquid flowed down his arm, unable to stop himself from face planting onto the dirty gravel of the alleyway.

He had lost, and Ghoul got away.

He still remembers it, after all, it was only hours ago that it happened.

The sun had long since set, the crescent moon hung high in the sky as her stars shimmered around her. His wound was stitched up and healed by doctors, leaving only a bitter scar to remind him of his failure.

He failed not only himself but those who counted on him.

God, he sucked.

And so, he ordered another drink.

He wanted to forget. He didn’t want to feel the failure sting at his fragile heart anymore.

It was too much to take.

What type of hero let the villain get away, knowing full well that they would kill again?

They couldn’t track Ghoul’s trail anymore, for the circle had been completed - and they were left with nothing with the numbing feeling of brutal loss.

Hours blurred together as his mind went hazy. His speech slurred together, dull, green eyes unfocused and mouth blabbering out nonsense to his friends that he couldn’t even really hear. It just- came out. 

Soon enough, he was being dragged out of the bar by his annoyingly sober friends.

The night had gotten colder since they first entered the warm bar, rain pelted down like freezing bullets flying from a machine gun. A dirty old awning kept them dry as they stood still at the front of the bars entrance, the loud music bouncing off the walls inside echoed down the empty streets.

Heavy streams of salty rainwater poured off the edge of the awning, splattering down into a mud puddle that emptied into the sewer grate below.

Who doesnt love the musty stench of rain on asphalt?

Hell, the smell itself, combined with the strong yet savory scent of the Korean barbeque joint across the street was enough to make him nauseous. He had drank far too much, and his stomach was suffering the consequences. He should have eaten more before drinking. How foolish.

 “It’s pretty late, you should head home.” Reasoned his best friend, Todoroki, puffs of condensation leaving his mouth as the warm breath met cold air, pressing a freezing hand to the back of the freckled boy's sweaty neck to jolt his drowsy, drunken self into a more alert state. Nothing but time could sober you up, but damn if that hand didn’t help slap some energy into him.

“Yeaahh, ye-yeahhh.. I gooht you Todooroe.” God, he sounded like someone high on anesthesia after being awoken from a surgery - which he definitely would be able to compare this experience to. Being a hero meant at least a few surgeries a year. Comes with the job.

Plus, this wasn’t the first time he’s been drunk.

He sure as hell hated the aftermath, but some nights it felt as if the hot burn of alcohol was the only thing that could keep him sane.

This was just one of those nights - or perhaps it was multiple nights slammed into one from just how stupidly drunk he was. The world was blurred, and Izuku doubted he could even walk straight at this point.

The half and half hero waved down a stray taxi, street water splashing up onto the sidewalk as the yellow vehicle came to a screeching halt.

“Get home safe.” Todoroki sighed out his nose at seeing his friends out-of-it state, helping the giddy and jelly-like hero into the back seat.

Izuku pouted, grabby hands clinging onto his friend's shirt in protest.

With a half-hearted chuckle, Todoroki pried himself free from his grip, handing the cab driver more than enough yen to get the drunk boy home.

He gave the taxi driver an address, and soon the car was rolling off down the street, Izukus flushed face pressed against the cold, fogging glass and staring with eyes full of tears at his friend.

Though, it seemed as if he had forgotten a promise he made to someone very important to him. Someone who he devoted his entire life to.

Someone who he risked everything for.

You.

His princess who had been locked in a small, dark room all day, wrists tightly cuffed to loose chains on the wall. The only light provided was a rusty oil lamp Izuku had gotten at a yard sale one day. The flame was dull, and left the room covered in shadows.

The tile below was as cold as it had been since the morning when Izuku had forcefully chained you there for misbehaving the night before.

You had deserved this punishment for disobeying him.

That’s what he tried to convince, anyway.

He was only trying to keep you safe! He hated punishing you, hated the way you thrashed and screamed at him in protest - that only meant he had to be rougher with you. You had broken into the most dangerous room in the apartment, afterall.

The kitchen.

There were far too many harmful objects in there!

Knives that could slice your delicate skin to shreds, forks that could jab into your body, hot stoves that could leave you with a nasty burn, and canned food stored too high up on the shelf that could fall and hit your head.. It was for your protection that the kitchen was off-limits to you!

Plus, Izuku, your oh-so kind and sweet boyfriend, had no problem with cooking you meals to eat together. In fact, he loved it!

He felt accomplished whenever you'd hum in approval at his cooking, or even turned on if that slutty mouth of yours just so happened to moan around your utensil. 

Those were the nights dinner was forgotten.

But you had been foolish, entering the kitchen for a midnight snack whilst Izuku was out on patrol. Your sneaky little self thought you were clever, leaving no trace of your betrayal.

Until you were awoken hours later by a green glow, blood running cold as a pair of murderous neon eyes stared into yours.

It had to be one of the scariest sights to date.

His pupils were shrunk, green electricity buzzing around his large body. He hovered over your trembling body, a wrapper in between his two gloved fingers.

He was so close, your noses brushed together.

You swore he could see into your soul, as well as see the fear in your (E/C) eyes.

“What is this, (Y/N)?” He had asked innocently, hurt coating his words.

“I-” you wanted to make an excuse, protest, say it wasn’t yours, but every single letter died on your tongue as his face pressed closer, a sadistic smile overtaking his features.

“You didn’t.. You didn’t go into the kitchen, did you?”

His hot, minty breath blew all over your face as he spoke, and you shriveled back in fear as insanity crossed his expression in that way you were far too familiar with.

The giggles bubbled in his throat as he tried to fight logic with delusion, “It wasn’t you, right? Someone broke in, didn’t they? You wouldn’t break my trust, would you?”

His voice was cracking, fingers digging into the flesh of the bed beneath you as his eye began to twitch.

He stared down at you, curly green hair brushing against the sides of your face, waiting far too long for an answer he would never get. His bottom lip wobbled, feat tears welling up in his eyes and falling onto your pale cheeks as his body shook with anger and sadness.

He was already stressed about the following mornings mission, and to come home to his princess betraying his trust was not something he enjoyed.

And so, you were punished.

But he had promised you wouldnt be locked in there for long, he knew how you feared the dark. He had conditioned you to fear it, after all. It was his greatest accomplishment.

You were always so willing to cuddle into him when the lights were off.

A few hours turned into nearly an entire day, the only indication you had of this was past experiences, skin around your wrists rubbed raw from the metal cuffs, and the unusual sting of your ass and bare legs burning from the freezing tile beneath you.

That was the least of your worries, though.

Worst of all - the flame, which was holding you together and keeping you from crying out for help to those who might hear you in this soundproof room, which would no doubt get you a harsher punishment, was about to die out.

That flame, albeit small, was your only hope of surviving this.

Izuku was typically a very reliable person, it was strange for him to not keep his word to you. He devoted his being to you, worshipped the ground you regrettably walked upon, why would he break his own promise?

The thought of being trapped in the dark, the echo of your chains taunting your delirious mind had you close to tears. You didn’t want to be alone here anymore.

You watched in horror as the flame got smaller and smaller, tears now rolling down your cheeks as you pleaded under your breath for it to last longer.

The air vents around you provided enough oxygen for it to survive, but that damn oil..

Where was he?! 

Suddenly, the door to his apartment flew open, giggles seeping through the house and teasing your ears.

Then, there was no more light.

A screech tore from your throat, a desperate call of his name as you thrashed around, tears pouring from your eyes.

You felt as if you couldnt breathe as your head whipped around the space, desperate for more air and light as your lungs seemed to scream.

You couldnt feel the cold chill of the floor anymore, body numb as adrenaline pumped through your veins.

What was in the dark?

How big was this space again?

Rather, how small was it?

What was that noise?

Did something just touch you?

There was wind, there was wind, no. A cold chill?

Oh god what was that-

Loud, clumsy footsteps made their way closer and closer to the locked metal door. You sobbed as your heard the jingle of keys, metal scraping against metal as he fumbled with inserting them into the lock.

Until finally, you were basked in the honey-dew glow of the bedroom.

You fought to control your breathing as he dropped to his knees, taking far too long for your liking to get the cuffs off.

But at least now you know why he took so god damn long.

You could smell the putrid miasma of alcohol wafting off him the moment he stepped into the darkroom, tainted with the salty effluvium of rainwater as it dripped onto your skin from his damp, messy hair.

Rage bubbled inside you as he giggled once more at your tear-stained cheeks, “D-did yoou miss mee?” He slurred, a giddy smile on his face as the stale stench of what he had been drinking all night circled around your head like a rotten wreath.

Instead of answering, like you knew you should have, you turned your head towards the door, soaking in the light you were previously deprived of. Even if it was just a mere minute.

At your silence, his smile quickly turned into a frown. Big, forestry green eyes welled up with sadness, bottom lip trembling, “(Y-Y/N)?” He couldnt help but reach out, scarred fingers wishing to wipe away those stray tears from your face.

You missed him.

That’s why you were crying, surely.

He wanted to comfort you, say that he was there now and that you could both cuddle until twinkling dawn.

You weren’t alone anymore.

He was all you needed, and he was right beside you.

He’ll always be there for you, and you’ll always be there for him.

Because you love each other.

“D-Don’t cry-”

His cold hand was smacked away, and his usually sturdy body was shoved back so that you could scramble out of the freezing closet.

You needed space.

More room to breath.

To be on flooring that didnt feel like ice cutting into your flesh.

Hell, you were sure the skin that had the unholy misfortune of touching the floor were burned red at this point from how long you had to sit there.

Not to mention your poor wrists, you couldnt even bear the sight of them being so raw. You were pretty sure they would bleed if you even touched them. Your body was screaming in pain, stomach growing for food, mouth parched from not being given water so that you wouldnt make a mess on the floor.

You were weak, shaking, and afraid.

That bastard had the gall to say not to cry, to look concerned when he knew damn well how much you absolutely despised the dark.

At first it was a childish fear, but the moment he snatched you from your regular life, that fear became a reality. There were countless nights you’d be punished by being left alone in the dark.

He didnt want to hurt you, no, and he never has, but damn if he hasnt conditioned you to be afraid. 

Storms were the worst.

What was once a peaceful white noise turned into a terrifying nightmare once the moon rose in the sky.

There were times you were locked in that closet during violent storms, screaming and begging to be let out.

Sometimes you were, other times you werent as lucky.

Though it was only raining right now, each pitter-patter of the droplets against the window or balcony made hairs on your neck stand up. The sound was previously muted in the closet, but now it was hitting you like a freight train on a track that never seemed to end.

You heard him scramble to his feet as you wiped your tears away, the creak of the floorboards as he stumbled towards you.

A subtle bang made you jump, his foot no doubt hitting the chest at the end of your bed. Everso the clumsy one, even in an illuminated room.

Suddenly, he was right behind you, arms wrapping tightly around your middle as his head dropped to your shoulder, nuzzling his cheek against your neck.

Perhaps it would have been pleasant, comforting, even, if he wasnt soaked to the bone. The cold water from his dark grey, long-sleeved sweater was now seeping into your own thin clothes, freezing wet hair sending shivers down your spine and it presses against your heated, sensitive skin. Some drops even went down your back, ripping a gasp from you.

This wasnt comforting at all.

This was suffocating.

You squirmed in his grasp, desperate to get the hell away from him.

You were already pissed, and him wrapping around you and squeezing you tight like a snake to its prey was the cherry on top of your disastrous sundae.

With a grunt, you used the rest of what little strength you had left to rip yourself free from his ‘hug,’ nearly tripping on your own two feet as you rushed away from him.

He pouted at you as you shoved yourself into a corner of the room, finding comfort in being able to see all around you, no surprise attacks from behind, only what was in front of you.

Your breath was heavy as you glared at him, nostrils flaring and jaw clenching.

Truly, you had some nerve.

But it was hard to help it.

He broke a promise.

He never does that, and yet in your time of need- he wasn’t there for you.

For once.

He knew damn well you were locked up, scared shitless, expecting him to return home in a few short hours, yet here he is - looking absolutely clueless as to why you were suddenly so angry at him.

Tears streamed down his drunkenly flushed cheeks, hurt by how you shoved him away again.

All he wanted to do was snuggle you, his body exhausted yet numbed by the alcohol still burning in his tummy.

“Where..” you started, voice low, scratchy, and dripping with venom that reached deaf ears. “Where have you been!”

Just as he was about to open that mouth of his, no doubt about babble nearly incoherently - form logical excuses with evidence to back him up, say he lost track of time which you know damn well he never did, you shut him up.

You hated dealing with him when he was drunk, hell - you hated dealing with his obsessive ass most days.

But drunk? Drunk he got worse. He was clingy, more emotional, and worst of all? He didn’t have a filter.

He always managed to hide those more sinister desires under that sweet mask of his - until alcohol brought it out.

God, the smell of it made you sick to your stomach, but luckily you didn't have any food to throw up.

No thanks to him.

“What the fuck, Midoriya?!” You leered at him, noticing quickly the way his eyes darkened in that way they always did when you referred to him by his family name - the name he hated being called by you of all people.

“I’ve been trapped in that room all goddamn day! You said it’d be a few hours? What the hell happened to that! Look at the fucking time! Nine hours! Nine hours I’ve been stuck in my own personal hell! I can’t feel my fucking legs because of you!”

“I-” he attempted to start, the firm grip he had on his sanity quickly loosening with every shout you threw at him.

You cut him off, again, pent up rage now overtaking your sense of reason and fear, “What the hell happened?! You know what! I don’t even care! Not only did you,” You pointed a trembling finger at his stilled body, “break a promise! Something you swore you would never fucking do, you also had the nerve at laugh at me as I was trembling in fear!”

You looked like a mess, body shaking and bent over itself, one arm clutched around your waist as if to hold yourself together as that accusing finger stayed trained on him. Your hair was messy, frizzy, soaked with sweat and oily as hell from being denied a shower. Your clothes, thin and girly - much to your utter distaste, but to his satisfaction - now damp thanks to his carelessness.

All of this was because of him.

It always was.

Every single thing that went wrong in your life always seemed to be because of him nowadays.

You couldnt believe you let yourself fall for that misleading smile all those years ago, only to end up like this.

A mouse in a lions den.

But hell if that would stop you from squeaking your heart out till his razor-sharp claws ultimately caged you back in.

“Do you see my wrists?!” with a strangled sob, you held up both of your arms to show him the mess he already knew was his fault, “look at them! They hurt so fucking much because you left me in those disgusting handcuffs! This is all your fault!”

Your knees were wobbling so bad you swore your legs would give out at any second, but you’d be damned if you didnt hold your ground to this lunatic.

True, some days he was nice, normal, even. But days like these, or days much worse, you were reminded of just who he really was.

A monster was stretching it. He never intentionally tried to hurt you, your friends, or even your family.

No, he just stole you from your apartment in the dead of night, convinced the reason you were crying was because of the thunderstorm and not because some psycho snatched you from your window like some sort of 1970’s movie trope. That night he cradled your thrashing body to his hard chest with his strong arms, cooing at you and whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you begged to be let go. You were just scared of the storm~ He would keep you safe~ He is the number one hero, afterall~

That was all utter bullshit, straight from the beginning.

And even now he was still wrapped in the delusion that you loved him as much as he loved you.

A fated pair.

Please.

But you still held on to the pathetic hope that one day he’d snap out of it, return to the Izuku you knew from the beginning and not the person who now stood a few feet in front of you, staring with cold, emotionless eyes.

“I’m sorry.” he says impassively, face as blank as a new canvas - unreadable and dangerous in every way imaginable. It was hard not to feel as if he was just waiting to strike, already calculating his next moves like he always seemed to do. It was far easier to deal with an angry Izuku than one where you couldn’t read his already complex emotions, thoughts, anything. He was the definition of expressive, and it truly took a fuckin bullet to the back of his head for him to be like this.

So clearly, you hit a nerve.

Wonderful.

“Oh?” Despite knowing the implications of the situation you found yourself in, it was impossible not to laugh at such a pathetic fucking apology.

Knowing him, he probably was sorry, deep down inside. You knew he didn’t like seeing you hurt, especially if it was because of his doing, and yet- you pressed on. 

Pent up anger was a nasty thing to deal with, especially since it’s been brewing inside you for so long.

“Are you now? You don’t fucking seem sorry! If you were really sorry, you wouldnt have done it! But look where we are! You’re such a fucking-!”

“Shut up.” he growls out borderline maliciously, stumbling slightly as he turns to walk out the door. He was clearly fed up, his strong hands clenched into threatening fists, but so were you. Even if you were undeniably frightened to confront him, you wouldn't let that stop you from pushing yourself off the wall - your safe space - and wobbling after him.

“Look at you! You can’t even walk right! How drunk are you, huh? Washing away your feelings again, are you? What about my feelings! Huh?!”

You were pushing it.

You really were.

The entire house felt it, the air chillingly still as Izuku had to grind his teeth together so as to not lash out at you. 

He didn’t want to.

That was the last thing he wanted to do, but all that stress and self-hatred previously washed away was coming back up to the burning surface that cages his discretion.

Heavy breaths blew out his nostrils as he made his way to the living room, desperate for you to get the hint from his hunched over body that he wanted you to fuck off.

Yeah, he messed up, deep down he knew he did but currently his mind was far too clogged to even begin to comprehend it.

You were like an annoying mosquito, your words morphing into a persistent buzz.

He was ignoring you, and that made you livid.

He always ignored you when your problems were deemed irrelevant, or when he found you were being far too vexatious.

He always did this, always.

You were trapped in a cell with some asshole who didn't even want to listen to you.

Obviously, you had enough.

Typically you’d back off, go fume in another room or punch the wall till the skin around your knuckles tore open and dripped blood everywhere, making him snap out of whatever state he was in just to suffocate you in his toxic love.

Oh how life proved to be full of surprises.

A low growl of your own slithered passed your teeth, eyes practically burning red as if you prayed you had a quirk that could do something against him.

“You’re a selfish bastard! You fucking piss-poor excuse of a hero-!”

SLAP!

A shrill scream tore from your raw throat, the echo of skin burning against skin dizzying you as you were thrown back onto the floor.

Boiling hot tears streamed down your face as you sobbed out of pure fear, body shaking uncontrollably and you shuffled backward, desperate to get yourself as far away from him as you could currently manage.

It had all happened so fast, you didn't even have time to register it as it occurred.

One moment his hands were gripping the back of the couch with such strength you could see his knuckles turn a ghostly white, and the next, crackling, neon-green lightning surrounded his body, illuminating the dim apartment in a slimy glow. Before you even had a chance to register just what happened, he whipped his head around, his eyes, typically blown wide with sickening love and sparkling under delusional illusions, were narrowed and glowing in a way that sent shivers of immense regret down your spine. His arm whipped back with his hand, the very hand that delivered a painfully paralyzing slap.

He always spoke with his hands, and you just happened to be too close to him at that moment.

The reddended skin of your cheek burned, and you swore you could feel more than just tears streaming down it.

You were stuck shaking on the floor, imaginary bile rising in your throat, and all you could do was stare at him with wide, bloodshot and terrified eyes.

He had never laid a hand on you like that before, you didnt know what to think.

He always promised to do you no intentional harm, to never lay a finger on you with intentions of making you cry out in pain.

He had never acted so feral and out of line before.

It.. it scared you in a way you never felt before.

The gap between you grew, you really were just a mouse trembling in a lion's den.

“P-princess-” he shakily called out, voice weak and uneven, quirk diminishing into thin air like it never was there in the first place.

His own eyes were wide and filled with immense regret, tears already pouring down his flushed, freckled face.

He took one step forward, and you scrambled back, hand coming up to touch at your cheek, shock making you feel faint at the sight of blood coating your trembling fingertips.

You felt sick once again, empty stomach feeling as if it was collapsing in on itself to push even the tiniest bit of nonexistent food out.

You didnt know what to do.

Choking on your own sobs, you tried desperately to shuffle away from him, but he only came closer.

You cried out the moment he dove at you, your hands clasped together tightening against your chest as if to hold yourself together as this bear of a man wraps his arms cold, soaked arms protectively around you, his large shoulders violently shaking as he buried his snotty, tear stained face deep into your unruly tresses.

The stench of alcohol burned your nostrils, edging you on to try and push his heavy chest away. You tried, but you failed miserably, resulting in his arms pulling you even closer to his sweaty and damp body. It was disgusting.

“L-let go of me!” you wailed, your own tears stinging your eyes as your vision blurred and you could no longer tell just what you were staring blindly at, the dimness of the living-room paired with the suffocating embrace of your captor swallowing you whole.

You couldnt take it.

You could barely breathe at this point.

“p-p-ple .. plea-s-se..!” your cries intertwined with his own desperate ones as he babbled nearly incoherently on about how sorry he was, how he never meant to do something so horrible.

“I’m not a monster!” he howled out, desperate words seeping with ululation.

He was desperately trying to convince himself of that.

He wasn’t talking to you at all.

He was talking to himself.

He wasn’t a monster.

He wasn’t a monster.

He’s not like him.

He’s not like that piece of filth.

No, he’s so much better.

He’s a good man.

No, no, he’s not a monster.

He’s your hero.

He could never purposely harm you.

No.

It was an accident.

An accident.

You’d understand.

He knew you would!

You always understood him.

You were like two peas in a pod!

You forgave him, surely.

Yes.

Yes!

You did the moment he hugged you, the moment he started comforting you.

He was a good man.

How could you not forgive him?

He loved you so, so, so much.

You knew that-

You knew he would never do such a thing.

His breathing was even, eyes wide and straining as he stared at the floor, a crooked smile on his face as he repeated the words over and over again in his twisted mind.

He never met to hurt you.

No.

He didnt.

“Plea-” you tried once more, biting your wobbling lip as he squeezed you even tighter.

“No, no, no, no, no, no..” he heaved out, hand coming up to gently pet your oily hair as if to calm you. His head shook back and forth in your hair, “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m so sorry, honey.”

There was nothing you could do.

You were stuck alone in a mouse trap, the cold, metallic bar snapped down on top of your frail neck.

There was no escape.

There never was.

His form of ‘love’ far too strong for you to even attempt to.

And so, you gave up. 

Just like you always did.

There was no point in resisting him.

Sticky blood trickles down your raw cheek, dripping down onto the chilled bare skin of his neck, still cold from the damp clothes he wore, instantly catching his wondering attention.

“You.. you’re bleeding?” he whispered guiltily, already feeling a new wave of salty tears building up in the corner of his eyes.

His large left hand trailed up the skin of your neck, idly collecting the thin trail of red liquid onto his fingertips and smearing a path up to your jawline, stopping the moment your shivering form flinched.

He frowned at the red mark taking up half your beautifully innocent face, a small cut resting in the middle of it where no doubt the ring he foolishly wore as an accessory swiped.

Guilt made his stomach churn, the familiar burn of acid rising in his throat.

A deep inhale, and he swallowed it down, arm still wrapped around you, languidly rubbing your back as he stared with nothing short of pity at your wrecked state.

Your lips wobbled, holding in a reply as you force yourself to look into the vast abyss of darkness that was the hallway of your apartment instead of his orbs gleaming with concern.

Concern.

Concern for something he caused.

At least he had a heart, but you were still scared shitless and wanted nothing more than to run away. You were still fighting to regulate your breathing.

His thumb suddenly pressed against the slap mark, ripping a yelp from your throat as your head flung back to avoid any more contact. It was then that you noticed a pounding headache echoing inside your skull, yet another reason to aid in the water running down your face. Pain consumed your body, and you wanted nothing more than to escape this shell you were trapped in.

Openly chewing on his lip, both of his arms went back around you, cradling your delicate form to his chest.

Without a word, he stood up, practically forcing you to have to wrap your bare legs around his waist to keep yourself steady, something you were trained to do by him. He loved it when your legs were around his waist whenever he picked you up.

It became a regrettable second nature.

Heavy foot steps brought you back to your bedroom, and then into the bathroom connected to it.

Your fears crept up your spine at the pitch black room you were forced into, remembering how you were in a similar position just a few minutes ago.

When would this cycle end?

Ah. 

It wouldnt, would it?

You were set delicately down atop the cold marble counter as if you were a fragile piece of glass, which, in many ways, you were. The tears had at least stopped, but your body continuously shook like a chihuahua, your breathing still hard to control as fumbled around mindlessly with your fingers to serve as a distraction.

He flipped the light on, momentarily blinding your sensitive gaze with its bright light.

Sniffing, you wiped at your nose, watching as he walked about the bathroom, grabbing a wash cloth just to run it under cool water. The rain was still heavily pouring just outside the wall mixed with the loud splatters of the stream against the white sink. It would have been calming had cold water not splashed up onto your bare thighs, making goosebumps prickle along your skin. Your thighs were nearly numb at this point.

After ringing most of the water out, he held it up to your cheek, staring at you.

Taking the cue, you hesitantly took the cool, wet cloth from his grasp and gingerly pressed it to the swelling skin on your face. You hiss out in pain, dry sobs wracking your body at the stinging pain and the fact that he was still far too close for you to currently handle.

The pain on your cheek paired with the numbing cold was a good distraction.

You chewed on your lip as you squeezed your eyes shut, freehand gripping tightly at the hem of your shirt as you listen to him fumble around in the cabinet hanging over to the left.

You jumped the moment you felt his larger fingers ghost over the ones holding the cloth to your cheek, cautious (E/C) eyes opening ever so slightly as you looked over at him.

You couldnt help but feel idiotic as you suddenly felt flustered at the intense gaze he was giving you, eyes now gleaming viridescent in the white light of the bathroom almost staring right into your soul.

It was like he was reading you, pulling words off your own frail pages just so he could recite them to you.

He did this often.

Keeping silent, staring for long periods of times as he tried out scenarios in his head of the words he was going to say.

It gave you chills, but yet, it made you feel like you were the center of his drifting attention.

The sun his planets revolve tirelessly around, repeating the same cycles like a record forever skipping on repeat.

In these moments, though, he became an enigma.

Not exactly something your fragile state of mind entirely needed right now.

You shivered when his palm came to cup your soft jawline, thumb absentmindedly tracing over your parted lips.

His mouth opened, ready to say something, but he stayed quiet.

Mouth shutting, he leaned forward, tentatively bringing you into another hug.

“I’m sorry.” he repeated, the words nearly as quiet as your stilled breath, but you had nothing to say to it. And he knew it.

He was used to you staying silent.

He would prefer it most of the time.

So he could sink into his fantasies, the deluded fantasies that you loved him wholeheartedly, that you chose to stay silent as to not hurt his feelings, and always forgave him no matter what.

That you would forever and always be his.

He wouldnt give you the choice not to be.

He wouldnt let you leave when you’re his favorite person in the whole wide world.

The only one he needed.

And he was the only one you needed.

Yes.

Of course.

You didn’t need anyone else but him.

And he didn’t need anyone else but you.

So what if a few more people died because of his mistake, he would capture Ghoul eventually. Regardless, he would always come home to you.

Always.

And that’s all he needed.

He chucked against your neck, having buried it in the crook as his mind slipped through his shaky fingertips.

The Big Bad Wolf and his Little Red Riding Hood.

God how he loved the comparison.

Perhaps he was addicted.

Addicted to you.

Even now, as he inhaled your sugary sweet, natural scent stained with the metallic smell of dried blood.

Pulling back, he gazed into your hesitant eyes, delicately resting his forehead against yours.

His hair, now dry and no longer dripping with salty rain, tickled your skin, making you involuntarily take in a deep breath.

Closing his eyes once more, he soaks in the moment of your warm body in his frigid embrace, nothing else mattered to him.

Just you.

Only you.

“L-let me see your cheek,” he asks softly, words not as wobbly as before,  afraid that if he spoke too loudly in such a thin atmosphere, everything would shatter abruptly like glass.

Your body moved on instinct as if you were used to doing as he asked immediately no matter what, pulling the cool cloth away from your burning cheek.

Resisting the urge to sniffle and flinch away, you allow him to rewet the cloth, holding still as he dabs lightly at the small wound.

“I know it hurts,” he breathes out, “shh, shh, it’s okay.” it was always so strange how his voice still managed to calm your nerves even after all you’ve been through.

Deep down, you knew he was still that loving and energetic boy you met back at that coffee shop.

If only you knew how sinister and twisted he could really be.

Perhaps.. perhaps you wouldn’t be in such a situation now.

But there was never any point in pondering the what-ifs.

All you could do was fight your mind from seeking normalities in such a relationship as this, if you could even call it that.

You wouldn’t succumb to his desires like you always did.

You wouldnt lose yourself.

No.

You couldn’t let that happen.

Or was it too late already?

You hissed when you felt the stinging seer of rubbing alcohol dotted onto your cut, cleaning the wound.

“It’s okay.” he repeats, cooing to you with a reassuring smile that should have made you feel sick all over again.

You let him apply antibiotic ointment and a small cheek bandage, his hands shaky yet careful. You could say he has experience in applying bandages.

It was uncomfortable as it sat on your raw skin, but it’s not like you were going to go and rip it off. That would feel like ripping off a wax strip on a sunburn.

Humming, he gingerly wipes away the dried blood on your neck with the same washcloth, not minding how blood-stained the innocently white fabric became. 

Next came your still aching wrists. There wasn’t much he could do for your legs, but at least he had roll-on bandages on standby.

Turning the cold tap on, he lets you run them under cool water before gently dabbing the stray droplets away, careful not to press too hard.

He really needed to invest in softer handcuffs, it’s just- those were the only ones he had, and he didn’t use them often. Besides, it never got this bad before. But that wasn’t a good excuse.

He’d have to order some online tomorrow..

Applying more ointment around the area, the kind that offers instant relief, he wraps your smaller wrists up as best he could, cringing himself whenever you’d flinch.

He’d make it up to you.. Pancakes in the morning, perhaps?

Izuku then begins to sluggishly put away everything he brought out of the cabinet, tossing what needed to be tossed into the trashcan.

He was slow, almost as if he was trying to keep his balance, which he no doubt was. 

Standing in front of you once again, he wrapped his arms around you, whispering “up” in your ear.

It was something he would always say when he wanted you to wrap your arms and legs around him so he could carry you like a baby.

But who were you to refuse?

It wasn’t as if he couldnt pick you up without your limbs wrapped around him, it was more for your comfort rather than his convenience.

So, tentatively, you wrapped your still shaking arms around his neck, doing the same with your legs around his bent waist.

“Good girl.” he praised as he began walking back into the bedroom, stopping just at your side of the bed to place you down at the edge.

Numbly, you let him remove your rain-soaked clothes from all the hugging, sitting on the bed in just your panties as you watched him toss the clothes in the hamper by the door

It wasn’t the first time he insisted on treating you like a child who needed help changing, but at least you didn’t have to walk.

It was hard to remember if it was a good or a bad thing that you didn’t care about being nude in front of him anymore, not even bothering to hide your chest as he came back over with a fresh set of clothes - the strawberry patterned pajamas he always seemed to adore you wearing.

You always looked so innocent in them. The shirt is far too large for your frame, the sleeves hanging off your hands and the large v-neck exposing your collar bones and parts of your shoulders. The bottoms were the regular run of the mill pajama pants, soft as cotton and comfy as hell.

The top truly was the part of the look that tied it all together.

He couldn’t help but smile as your arms immediately raised as he pulled the shirt out of the pile, making quick work of slipping it over your cute head and helping your arms into the sleeves.

He liked to take care of you.

You needed him to, after all.

You were his innocent, helpless little darling, after all.

Pulling your pants up, he guided your body down into a resting position, dragging the thick, grey, and black patterned comforter over your stilled body.

Such a good girl.

He tucks loose strands of messy (H/C) hair that fell across your face behind your ear, being mindful of the wound.

He stares at it for a moment, his expression holding that of worry and regret.

Pushing off the bed, he stumbles his way to the kitchen in the dark, having turned off the light as he went, the layout of the apartment burned to memory so he could easily avoid furniture.

In the kitchen, he opened the freezer and grabbed an ice pack, one he would commonly use on his own sore muscles and bruises. It hurt his heart knowing he was the reason you had to use it for the first time.

After wrapping it in some paper towels, he trudges his way back into the dark bedroom, eyes wracking over your balled up form, covers bunched over you like a shell.

“Put this on your cheek..” he whispered, placing the pack just in front of your face.

He would love to be the one to hold it to your cheek, but his mind was still hazy, and his words were still slurred. Events could sure as hell sober you up a bit, but damn did that nausea always come back crashing in through the brittle window full force when you’d least expect it.

Rummaging through the drawers once more, he picked up some of his own fresh clothes and made his way into the bathroom again.

All he wants is to sleep, but he also didnt want you to smell dried sweat and rain on his being throughout the night.

He knew you missed him, him and his warmth, you always did, right? No question about it. You must be longing for him even now. 

Wanting him to hold and comfort you just like always.

Numbed adrenaline pumped in his veins as he stepped into the shower, letting the warm water wash away his filth and regrets.

God, it felt so good to be able to somewhere warm for once.

The entire night he’s felt nothing but cold.

Not even the fire in his belly or the breath stolen from his lungs could’ve warmed him up.

He was mad at himself. Mad that he lost control and hurt the one thing that mattered the most to him.

Mad that he let himself get disgustingly drunk.

Mad that he walked in the rain like a dumbass just to soak your clothes and make you feel as cold as him.

But at the moment, too many thoughts were flying in his mind for him to properly think, no, he couldnt really even say he was thinking at all.

He was just letting the water splatter on the back of his neck, forehead resting on the cold shower tiles and he watched as water swirled down the drain like a whirlpool. His hair stuck to his cheeks like glue, but he couldn’t find himself caring.

Absentmindedly, his fingers brush across the fresh scar on his broad shoulder.

He swore the longer he stood there, watching the clear flow of water, the looser his grip on himself became.

He couldnt really say he felt anything at all anymore.

When did he lose himself?

Was he ever even really found?

Ah.

With you.

You were the missing piece in his complicated and skull biting puzzle, the one who made him whole and lit up his dull life. You were the reason he felt things anymore, you were the reason he still managed to get up and save people with a clear conscious.

You always had such a positive impact on his life, and he knew he had just as good a one on yours.

A wobbly smile tore his flushed face in two, you both really did need eachother.

He was so happy to have you in his life.

Knowing you’d never leave him.

Turning the boiling hot water off, he stepped out, the plushness of the bath-mat embracing his wet feet as water continued to pour down his nude body.

It felt, it felt so hot suddenly.

His breath came out in exaggerated pants, hands sweeping his hair from his face as the burn of bile rose in his throat.

Lunging for the toilet, he emptied his stomach into the glistening white bowl.

Gasping for air, Izuku whipped his mouth on the back of his hand, still trying to catch his breath as he fumbled to flush.

God, he needed to sit down.

Shakily turning the bathroom faucet on, he washed his hand, making quick work of brushing his teeth before lazily drying himself off.

Ignoring the other clothes he brought in, the toned hero simply pulled on a pair of black boxers before walking out of the bathroom.

Green eyes immediately looked at your form, just to see the soft rise and fall of your chest as you soundly slept, the ice pack sitting comfortably on your cheek.

You looked so adorable.

You always did.

Smiling once more, he walked over to the bed, pulling back the sheets just to slide his larger, warm body in and next to your own.

He sighs blissfully the moment he tugs you into his embrace, relishing in the feeling of your soft body against him.

Removing the icepack from your cheek, not wanting you to awake to a cheek burning from the cold, he places it on the nightstand before snuggling closer to you.

You always fit so perfectly in his big arms.

You were meant to be by his side.

And you loved it, didn’t you?

Eventually, he fell asleep, soft snores echoing around the quiet room filled with the downpour of rain still pouring down outside the large glass windows,

But you were still wide awake.

It was hard to remember the last time you got a good night’s rest, especially when the room was spine-chillingly dark..

Hard to remember what life was like before you even met your own personal nightmare.

You were used to the exhaustion, the dark circles kissing at the skin under your eyes becoming normal the day you were brought here.

Oh, how foolish you were.

You should have locked your window that fateful night.

But heroes are quite stealthy, aren’t they?

Was this even reality at this point? Or all just a figment of your imagination, protecting you from the true horrors before your very eyes.

Either answer wasnt one you wanted.

But you never had a choice.

Tears slipping from your eyes like they always seemed to do, you stared longingly off into the distance, the warmth pressed against your back pulling you further into your own bubbling madness.

All it took was a signal thought for this to all become normal.

For the pain to wash away with your tears.

‘Maybe this is ok.’