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letterstotheflre · 3 years

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my drug is my baby

summary: sirius is glad he was patient enough with you and takes part of what he has been craving most

warnings: daddy kink, a smidge of religious references, dacryphilia, overstimulation, fingering and oral sex (fem receiver), innocence/corruption kink

word count: 3.2k

a/n: i kinda hate this now but i think it’s because i read it too many times, idk || i think it's a universal experience to not being able to cum from your own fingers... right?? and we all know that sirius has a crying kink... also i think it’s so hot when they make you thank them for letting you cum, sue me!!

Sirius Black liked to believe he was a patient man when he needed to be.

He was known for being reckless, always jumping into the next adventure without much thought, ready to follow James wherever he went. Most of the time he spoke without thinking, especially if he knew his comments would make his parents red with rage. Sometimes he didn’t even mean what he said, he just spewed whatever progressive or controversial opinion he had in hopes of making his mother’s heart stop beating.

He revelled in making rash decisions, somehow always ending up being benefited by them. He never gave much thought to anything: always doing his homework last minute yet somehow still getting top marks, taking some jokes too far, never taking into consideration other people’s safety unless they were close friends.

Some may call him selfish, but he liked not having to put too much thought into every single action. He spent most of his childhood walking on eggshells, afraid of saying the wrong thing and being punished or worse, Regulus taking the beating for him. But now that he finally escaped the Black family, he enjoyed the freedom that came with leaving Grimmauld Place.

He enjoyed breaking rules and creating chaos. It made him feel mighty, knowing he had the power to make all of those choices, still coming out on top, and see how they affected certain people. Most applauded him, revered him for being so spontaneous and adventurous; others couldn’t stand him, complaining about his mean jabs and sometimes harmful pranks.

Yet he knew how to wait for the things he deemed important or worthy. He knew that it was best to wait for Euphemia’s cherry pie to cool down before eating it, to wait for three days after the full moon to make a werewolf joke to Remus, to wait a few hours after James lost a Quidditch match to suggest a quick trip to The Three Broomsticks. And he knew it was best to wait for you.

Good things come to those who wait, that was his mantra. Of course, most of his restraint when it came to you was because he cared deeply about you and your comfort, but his conscience also drove him to keep his hands to himself. Every time his hands were about to go under your skirt, every time he heard your breathy moans when he kissed your neck, every time you looked at him with pouty lips begging for a kiss and his fingers craved to squeeze your neck, he took a step back. He felt so guilty for tainting something that in his mind was so pure, so he just held you close and peppered your face with kisses until you giggled.

But the thought of you being so untouched and how bashful you looked when he teased you or someone made a sexual comment made him want to ruin your innocence. Something inside him craved to see you tainted, to have you writhing under him as he rolled his hips against yours while you clutched his shoulders. He wanted to take that holiness you had and turn it into something so sinful that there was no way for you to ask for redemption.

And when you opened the door and took the first step, who was he to deny you?

He dragged everything out. Since the day when he taught you how to touch yourself, he wanted to make you wait for every sexual act that followed. He wanted to see how long it would take for you to beg him for some relief.

So today during a lecture when you looked at him with glazed over eyes and begged him to help you relieve the strange ache you felt in your stomach since you woke, he decided to be benevolent and give you some relief. He swiftly moved his hand under your skirt (thanking God that most of your closet consisted of that particular piece of clothing and dresses) and pushed aside your underwear before his fingers made way between your dripping folds. He didn’t enter you, just played with your clit until you had to bite the back of your hand to muffle your moans.

But when you whispered a small “thank you, daddy” and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, the only thing he wanted to do was take you back to his room and press you to the bed until your legs shook and tears ran down your cheeks. His eyes quickly scanned the classroom to make sure no one saw or heard anything, shoulders tense because of your words. All he could see were students with their own glassy eyes as they listened to whatever the professor was talking about. Fucking tease, Sirius thought.

And now, as he watched you on your knees and clutching his leg, lips pouty and cheek nuzzling his jean covered thigh, he was thankful for being patient enough.

“Please, Sirius, they’re back,” you said. He knew exactly what you were talking about, but played dumb as one hand petted your hair. “What’s back, baby?”

“The tingles,” you explained.

“And you need me to fix it, hm?” A small taunt was evident in his tone. “Your hands aren’t enough anymore, right bunny?”

Your cheeks warmed up at the implication, nevertheless, you shook your head. You still managed to make yourself cum, but the way Sirius could play with your clit like an experienced musician and how his big hands moved your hips along his jean covered leg would never compare to your dainty digits. The thought of his big fingers inside of you was enough to increase the tingles, and your hands pressed down on your stomach trying to soothe the pain.

“Please, Sirius, it hurts so bad,” you whimpered.

“Use your words, angel. Be good,” he said. You looked up at him with watery eyes, your mind already slipping and not letting you form too many coherent thoughts. “Please, daddy,” you sniffled.

He kept petting your head. “What do you want, angel?” He asked, looking almost bored with the situation as he listened to your pleads. “Anything,” you whined.

He shook his head, mocking disappointment. “You know you have to ask for what you want, puppy.” Even though he wasn’t angry, honestly a little amused at your desperation, his voice was stern, trying to engrave his rules in your fuzzy brain.

Your hands squeezed his leg, “I need you… down there.”

“You need to be clearer.''

You closed your eyes. You hated being so crass, but Sirius certainly had no qualms about it. “I need you… in my pussy,” you got out. But it wasn’t enough, not for Sirius who longed to ruin every aspect of your innocence. “What do you want, baby? D’ya want my fingers or my tongue?”

“Both,” you whined. Bingo, he thought with a dark smirk that would’ve sent shivers down your spine if you weren’t absolutely drenching and desperate for his touch. “Up you get, puppy,” he said, “lay on the bed f’me.”

You got on the bed right next to him, your head laying on one of your fluffy pillows. Your dress rode up a bit with your movements, but it didn’t really matter, and you pressed your legs together trying to relieve some of the tension while you waited for Sirius to do something. He simply watched you, taking in the image of you wriggling in place and toying with the rings he bought you for your birthday.

You felt a soft touch on your calves, and it gave you a fluttering feeling in your stomach. Sirius’s hands were moving slowly up your legs, nudging them apart without needing much force since you complied immediately. You were about to burst, ready to scream at him to just get on with it, but decided to keep quiet.

One of his hands made its way to the edge of your dress, swiftly going under it and his fingers slightly grazing your clothed pussy. Your hips bucked at the soft touch, but then just as quickly as it came it was gone. “No, come back!” you implored, reaching for Sirius’s wrist but being too slow.

Sirius arched one eyebrow, “What was that?”

“I’m sorry!” you cried out, “M’sorry, I just need you so bad. It hurts.” But Sirius remained where he was, arms now crossed over his chest as he looked at you. His eyes were full of disappointment and you wanted to cry, “What’s gotten into you today? You were so demanding in class before, so bratty, I don’t think you deserve it at all.” He was stretching the truth, you were by far the least bratty person he had ever been with, but he couldn’t help himself when he saw how much his words affected you.

A few tears fell at his words, “No, no, m’not bratty. I’m a good girl, daddy. I promise I’ll be so so good, your best girl! I won’t ask for anything more, m’sorry.'' You were saying anything you could to convince him that you were still his good girl, his angel.

Your lips were quivering and your chest was heaving with sobs you tried to keep inside; babbling apologies and trying to convince him that you would never act like this again, and he finally took pity on you. His hands gripped your ankles and opened your legs so he could lay comfortably between them. He could see a dark patch on your lavender underwear, and he huffed out a laugh with a slightly amused shake of his head. “I forgive you, bunny, but you’ll have to take everything that I give you. D’you think you can do that f’me?”

You nodded eagerly, choking a small ‘thank you’ as you tried to control your breath. He grabbed the ends of your dress and bunched it up over your waist, not bothering to take it off. He licked a strip over your underwear and the combination of his warm tongue with the friction of the cotton cloth was enough to make you mewl.

Sirius could not deny that he had been craving to taste you once more after he licked your fingers clean that day, and now only getting a smidge of your taste from what seeped through your underwear drove him insane. He needed to taste you completely, so he quickly pulled them off and pocketed them in the back of his jeans.

He used his fingers to spread your folds wide open, staring hungrily at all the slick that had gathered. “Oh puppy, look at the mess you’ve already made,” he crooned. “Y’re dripping, d’ya really need me this bad?”

“Yes, so so bad. Please, daddy.” He was so close, his warm breath hitting your wet folds and making you tremble in anticipation.

You watched, using your elbows to raise yourself a little, as he slowly started to take his rings off. “Hold ‘em for me, bunny, don’t want them to get dirty,” he said as he slid his chunky rings into your fingers. The metal dangled a little because of the size difference, so you closed your hands to keep them from falling.

Finally, his tongue made contact with your clit and you sighed in relief. It was followed by a moan when he started to suck on it, making sure to swirl his tongue all around before slurping. He looked like a starved man that finally came into contact with some sweet fruit, moving his head around your pussy to have you gushing on him. The ache in your tummy was slowly decreasing, now replaced with a nice fluttering feeling.

Your whines and moans echoed through his ears, resembling the most beautiful angel choir he had ever heard. He pulled away for a moment, “I’ve been waiting to taste you for days, puppy. S’better than I remembered.”

The more he pushed his tongue inside you, the more your legs shook. You involuntarily closed them, your pillowy thighs acting as earmuffs around Sirius’s head. He let them rest there for a few seconds before pushing them open once more, adding more fervour to his movements, eager to drink your sweet ambrosia.

Your closed fists went to his head, and you opened them a little to grip his hair, trying to ground yourself. “Gonna cum, daddy, can I?” You breathed out. Sirius just hummed, sending vibrations that were enough to make you let go. You tried to close your legs once more, but his shoulders prevented you from doing so. You felt like you were floating, your brain shutting off for a few seconds before returning to earth.

But Sirius didn’t stop moving his tongue, one of his fingers circling your hole before entering you slowly. Just one of his fingers felt like two of yours, even though you knew it wasn’t an accurate comparison. The stretch this time burned more than when you touched yourself, and you whined while shaking your head. “Too much, s’too much.”

Sirius paused for a moment so he could press your legs to your chest with one hand while the other kept moving in and out of you. The sudden switch in position made you gasp, but not as much as when Sirius thrust his fingers hard. “Are you dumb? I told you you had to take everything I gave you. D’you want to make me mad again?”

More tears fell when he curled his fingers, expertly finding that spongy spot inside you that pumped white heat through your veins. The way they twisted resembled a musician fiddling with a harp, your needy whines accompanying them like the main act. “No no, I can take it” you gasped, drowning in bliss as his fingers kept hitting the perfect spots.

You were already so close, Sirius giving you no respite as he quickly pushed his fingers. Your hand gripped his arm, fingertips digging the ink-covered skin. “C-close,” you whined, eyes rolling back and mouth open as you felt the tension ready to break.

“Going to make more of a mess, angel?” he grumbled, and you tried to nod as much as you could in your constricted position. Sirius chuckled, “Dirty little thing. Go on, I’ve got you.”

You whimpered brokenly as he pulled another orgasm from you. It felt like his fingertips were scrapping your insides to drag it out, and your feet dangled in the air as you swung them while trying to grab his wrist to stop him from moving.

Sirius couldn’t tear his eyes from you, with your pretty tears dripping down your cheeks and your chest heaving with small sobs from how good you felt. For him, all for him and only ever for him, because no one had ever touched you like he has and no one else ever would. “You look so pretty like this,” he cooed. “God I love your tears, baby, look how hard you make me.”

Your eyes moved down his body—when had he taken off his shirt? His tattoos splayed over his toned muscles made you clench around his fingers. You adored the small drawings that covered most of his body, they looked so beautiful on him and you just wanted to cry even more at how pretty your boyfriend was. When your eyes moved lower, following his previous instruction, you could see there was already a bulge in his pants that you knew was his cock, and your mouth watered at the thought of it just resting against his stomach like it did the first time you sucked him.

“I wanna feel you,” you cried while stretching your hands to touch him. He let you, your soft palms going over his chest and grabbing his shoulders so you could pull him down. “Kissie,” you breathed, letting his lips hover over yours for a second before kissing you hard and messily. His tongue played with yours and it only added more fuel to the fire inside you.

A moan broke you apart when his fingers resumed their pace, “P-please, no more” you babbled, the stimulation too much to bear.

“How are you gonna take my cock if you can’t take my fingers, hm?” He asked and you whined, his fingers burying themselves up to his knuckles and making your eyes roll back once more. Your mouth was dry from being constantly open, whimpers and moans constantly escaping from the open cavity. “Come on, one more, I know you have it in you. My good girl aren’t you?”

The squelching sounds were so dirty and they rang through your ears, yet even through your fuzzy mind you could discern the important words, “Y-your good girl,” you managed to get out with a smile, glad to be praised by him.

His other hand pressed down on your legs even more, and now you could see the way the digits moved in and out of you, a slight sheen coating the skin every time they came out. “God, you were right, bunny, you are tight,” he grunted, “I don’t think I’ll ever fit, m’gonna break you.”

At that, your eyes widened. “No no, you’ll fit, daddy!” But he just chuckled at your desperation, “M’gonna break you in half, angel. Do you want that? Do you want me to split you open?”

A small chant of ’yes’ and ‘please’ echoed through the room. You could feel another wave coming, ready to wash over you as your toes curled in anticipation. It was like you were dangling on the edge, your hands holding on for dear life as you tried to hold on, and your moans grew louder and louder with every thrust Sirius gave.

Your clenching walls around his digits were warning enough for him, and he kept his eyes on your form as you struggled to keep it at bay, waiting for his permission. He watched as your ring clad fingers scrambled to the sheets, gripping them tightly as your head moved from side to side. “That’s it, bunny, let go f’me” and with one harsh thrust, you slackened the hold you had on your release and finally let go.

If you felt like you were still on your body you would’ve screamed. A white heat engulfed you as your vision grew hazy, your hips raising of their own accord and aiding Sirius in dragging your orgasm out. You looked so beautiful like this, a sweaty sheen on your skin and now tangled up hair sticking to your forehead. Sirius leant down, tongue cleaning the fallen tears before they dried, and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped you.

He grabbed your face, squishing your spit covered cheeks. “What do you say, angel?”

With a shuddering breath, you looked into his stormy eyes as he cleaned your release from his fingers with his tongue. “Thank you, daddy.”

You tried to lower your legs, but Sirius kept them in place. You stared at him, confused, yet he was staring at your puffy cunt, all shiny and stretched out for him. A smirk covered his lips as he finally looked at you, “I think y’re finally ready for m’cock, angel.”

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pinkdoodoofart · 3 years

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I Just can’t Anymore Bakugou Katsuki x Black!Reader x Izuku

Summary: You couldn’t handle Bakugou’s yelling anymore

Type: Angst + Fluff + Slight Sexual Content

⚠️CURRENTLY BEING EDITED ⚠️

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To say things with your boyfriend was an absolute dream, was an understatement. He wasn’t the nicest guy or the most caring, but in private he tried his best to be. Bakugou Katsuki was his name. Labeled as the loudest, rudest, and arrogant guy in Class 1-A. Originally, you hated his guts a lot. Especially when he would insult your performance in class. You honestly never even imagined yourself dating a guy like him, but here you were.

Now you don’t exactly regret being in a relationship with Katsuki. He can genuinely be a good guy. Whether it be paying for something for you at the mall or helping you study for upcoming tests. Or even just regular dates. The dude wasn’t that bad. Until later in your relationship it started to plummet.

It was only after a few months of dating, you noticed Katsuki acting a little stranger. In the beginning on your relationship, Katsuki did yell at you. Though it was more in a teasing way rather than in a rude way. Though the longer you were together his yelling would get worse. You genuinely couldn’t tell if he was joking anymore.

It got to the point where he would start ignoring at school and call off dates constantly. It was starting to frustrate you. Though you chose to leave it alone for a little and give the guy some space. Hoping things would get better.

They didn’t.

He still ignored you during the day and called off the dates. It started to really hurt now. You didn’t know if he wanted to still be in a relationship. The amount of nights you cried yourself to sleep and the state you were in every morning, was noticeable to many of your classmates. Most of them hoping Katsuki would do something and help, only for their hope to be crushed. Like yours.

Just like any other day, your hope was crushed even more. This time though, your hope has completely shattered.

As you entered the classroom, most of your classmates were there. Only missing not present. One of those students who were present was your bitter and loud boyfriend sitting at his desk, feet kicked up on top as usual. Smiling, you make your way over to his desk and give Katsuki a quick kiss on the cheek. He swiftly turned his head towards you with a scowl. As it was no secret that you were in a relationship with Katsuki, public affection was a big no no in his book. You were treated as if you were a stranger.

It sucked…

“The fuck are you doing?” He asks irked by the sudden kiss.

“I can’t give a kiss to my boyfriend?” Clinging to his arm trying to be cute. That was your first mistake. Instead of giving affection in return like he would do in private, he pushed you roughly off of him. Feeling a sharp pain in your back, you fell back onto the floor against the desk. You looked up at him in shock. He has never done that before.

Ever.

The worst part was that he didn't even help you up. He just looked at you before turning his attention to the front looking at nothing. Instead, Deku came over and gave you a hand. As thankful as you were, you wished Katsuki helped you instead. As he was your boyfriend.

Deku quickly asked to make sure you were alright making you slightly blush. Izuku was always so helpful to everyone. Especially you. He had always had a big crush on you. Everyone knew... except for you of course.

You quickly thank the boy before hearing a quick scoff next to you.

“The hell? Why are you touching my girlfriend you damn nerd?”

“I-I was just h-helping her up K-kacchan…. something you should have done…”

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!” Katsuki grabbed Deku’s uniform collar and began screaming in his face. In a panic, you quickly tried to peel Katsuki off of Deku before he does anything worse. That was your second mistake. Not only were you feeling pain in your back, you felt a sharp pain on your cheek. Holding it you look at your boyfriend in shock.

“Don’t touch me you bitch.” Your eyes widened at the derogatory name towards you. “God why do you have to cling to me like a little kid? Its fucking annoying. Not to mention letting this shitty nerd help you up. You are useless if you can’t get up on your own.” He says with annoyance. “Jeez are you actually crying, you need to man up Y/N,” the continuous bashing only dampened your mood even more. Hands by your side start ball up into tight fists as you look at the boy with such hatred.

Dating a guy who's the biggest asshole at school. But he isn't always like that. When alone with you, he can be pretty soft. Even secretly makes you snacks. You really did love him, but being yelled at in front of everyone everyday is not something you love. So here you were, tears pricked in your eyes while your body shaked tremendously. Even embarrassed by the amount of eyes on you and your boyfriend.

And before you knew it, you snapped.

“How about you stop yelling all the fucking time huh? You act as if you are some God when you're not Katsuki. You're a student at UA training to be a hero,” you respond angrily. Not caring that he looked at you with shocked eyes as well as other students. You have had it. “Quite frankly, I don’t see you as a hero at all. You would be more fit for a villain.” After the last words left your mouth you immediately ran out of the classroom with tears in your eyes.

Landing on the steps to the entrance of UA, you sit and cry to yourself wondering why you started to date such an asshole. What happened between then and now? He was a lot sweeter earlier in your relationship, what changed? These thoughts continuously raced through your mind for what felt like hours. After crying for a little longer, you felt yourself calm down and decided to just skip school and head back to the dorms.

You opted to stay in your room until you felt better. Laying in your bed feels like you have entered a threshold of tranquility. You sadly, did not fall asleep as fast as you hope. Negative thoughts continue to plague your mind as you lay there hopeless of ever rekindling your relationship. Soon you felt your eyes close and fell into a dreamless slumber.

The sound of continuous knocks on your dorm door woke you up. Whoever was knocking really needed to talk to you. Immediately, you shot up. In hopes that it was Katsuki ready to apologize. Quickly you open the door, and to your disappointment but also……. happiness? Standing there was Izuku Midoriya, fumbling with his hands and green eyes averted from yours.

“H-hey Y/N…. you never c-came back to c-class…,” he stutters out. Looking down your negative thoughts from before came back, souring your mood. Noting your expression, Izuku impulsively grabs your shoulders asking if your okay.

“No, I’m not… can you please stay with me?” After receiving a nod in response, you grab Izuku’s hand and pulled him to your room.

“Hey… Y/N don't listen to kacchan… you are not useless at all. You are an amazing girl that I am so glad we are friends,” Izuku says warmly. Feeling your heart flutter a bit, tears began to fall from your eyes. Immediately panic set into Izuku. He started flailing his arms wondering whats wrong before feeling arms wrap around him. You were hugging him. You. Were. Hugging. HIM!!!

“Thank you Izuku, that means a lot to me.” Soon, he wrapped his arm around you to reciprocate the hug. The hug had such a lovely warm feeling to it. It reminded you of the love you felt with Katsuki. But the more you thought about it, the less it bothered you. Letting go, you both look into each other's eyes for a second.

Were his eyes also so beautiful. That thought rang through your head before you felt your face heat up in embarrassment.

After a little more cuddling with Izuku, he unfortunately had to leave to do homework. “Thank you again Izuku, you are a great…… friend,” you say with a slightly fake smile. His smile fell but was quickly regained.

“Mmm no problem Y/N… I'm glad I could help.”

After he leaves, you immediately head over to your bed to pick up your phone. Looking through your contacts, you find the one person you definitely need to talk to.

You hit the call button and wait for him to answer. After a few rings you hear a gruff what be uttered.

Sighing you respond coldly, “I’m coming to your dorm. We need to talk, now.” Not bothering to hear a reponse, you end the call and head over to his room.

Knocking on his door a few times, you waited for him to open up. Instead of the door opening, you met with silence. Annoyed, you knock again hoping he would open up. Again no avail. Your knocking became more furious and consistent, similar to Izuku’s knock but alot more harder. Soon you heard a growl and loud footsteps approaching the door. Slammed open in your face you see your boyfriend looking at you with an empurpled look.

“Jesus fuck, you’d think you would be smar….. never mind come in.” Katsuki says not looking you in the eye before moving to the side to let you in. You enter quickly and sit at his desk, while he sits on his bed.

“I came here to talk about this mornin-“

“Why the fuck did you not come back to class?” Pissed you looked at him with an irritated look.

“Because I felt I don’t know… sad? Sorry I’m sensitive?” Sighing, you close your eyes for a second before opening to look at Katsuki. Jesus, he's already looking at you. “Look I apologize for what I said earlier this morning. It was uncalled for and I hope you can forgive me.”

“Yeah i forgive you….. I’m also sorry I shouldn’t have treated you like that. I was pissed off that morning and you clinging to me didn't help.” Looking down you bite your lip nodding.

Well here goes nothing…..

“Katsuki we need to break up…” As the last word left your mouth, he immediately stood up and grabbed your wrists in his hands with such displeasure.

“Dammit Y/N! I apologized isnt that enough. You don’t need to break up with me over a bad morning.”

“Katsuki its not just this morning. You always treated me like a stranger out in public and even called me useless more than once since we’ve dated. I really did like you Katsuki but now this was the last straw.”

Staring at you in disbelief, Katsuki let go of your wrists and turned away from you. “Look Katsuki we can still be frien-“

“S-SHUT UP! S-SHUT THE F-FUCK UP!” His voice cracked significantly with small whimpers following suit.

Is he crying? Slowly, you walked around to see his handsome face to see tears streaming down it. Slowly you wrap your arms around him in a way to comfort him. Thankfully it worked. But you didn't feel the loving you used to feel when you hugged him. That feeling was lost more than a week ago.

That’s right. You lost that fluttery feeling for him awhile ago. The more he yelled and called you useless, the smaller that feeling was till it disappeared. “I’m sorry,” he says weakly. You nod into his shoulder as a way to say it was okay.

You two finally break apart and look at each other for a little while. His eyes were still a pretty crimson red, but they weren’t as pretty as Izuku’s pretty green eyes.

Your eyes widened. Why were you thinking about Izuku? Flushed you quickly leave your exs to head to Izuku’s dorm. Damn… it already feels so weird to call him your ex.

Knocking on his door a few times you waited patiently for him to answer. Barely a few seconds had passed before he quickly opened the door to see you eyes bright with excitement.

“H-hey Y/N! What’s up? Do you need somethi-mmph!”

You grab the collar of his shirt and pull him to kiss him. Your smooth plump lips against his chapped but slightly smoothed lips moved in sync with each other.

Slowly you both walk backwards until he is laying on his bed with you on top of him straddling his waist.

“I like you Izu. I haven’t even realized it till now.”. Staring up at you with wide eyes, Izuku quickly pulled you by the neck with his arms to kiss him again.

“I like you too Y/N…. I’ve always had. I was always jealous and pissed by how Kacchan had you but also how he treated you. You needed to be treated like a Queen.” Smiling at him you slowly lean down and kiss his neck, emitting a small moan to go past his lips.

Here you both were… Naked in Izuku’s bed.

“I will never treat you the way Kacchan did Y/N,” Izuku says while nuzzling your neck.

“I know Izu, I believe you. Can I please stay here tonight and cuddle?” Giggling, he nods and holds you close to him.

The next day everyone was shocked by the sight of you and Izuku holding hands and close to each other. Of course, Katsuki was pissed, but he knew Izuku would treat you better than he could. As for Ochako, she was also jealous, but if Izuku was happy she was happy.

“Thank you Izuku…” He looked at you slightly confused.

“For what?”

“For helping me realize that I’m not useless.”

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Word Count:

Okay was working this for like a week or two but i hope you guys like it

Also didnt proof read but ill do it later :3

#bakugou x reader #poc friendly #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x black!reader #bakugou x black reader #angst #fluff #izuku fluff #izuku x reader lime #bnha

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

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I’m Here

CW: Negative stimming including stimming resulting in self-injury, pet whump, death of parents, grief, ableism, past noncon references, r*pe survivor having severe PTSD flashbacks, memory of shock collars, derogatory language, dehumanization, meltdown/panic attack, whump of a minor referenced repeatedly.

This is Chris in a very dark place - stay safe.

Directly follows Found Out, Akio, and Chris Sees.

Come on, 223499-

I'm Tristan! My, my, my name is Tristan, Tristan H-Higgs and I l, I, I live at-... but, um, no, no, at my, my my aunt's ap, apartment now-

Tristan Higgs is a fucking corpse, kid. You don't have a name anymore.

No, I'm, my, my name is, is, is-is-

Your name is for your prospective to choose. Now let me show you how we shut you up.

The boy is screaming, twisting, writhing in pain on the floor, clawing at the black collar around his neck, desperate to somehow escape it, but there isn’t any way out. He digs his fingernails down his skin but it’s still there, the collar never leaves, you’re only safe with your collar on, no wait that hadn’t happened yet-

Oh, that’s nice. Time for the Drip for you.

N-no, no-

Welcome home, 223499.

M-my name is, is, is Tristan-

Chris slams the door on his way into the bathroom, locks it behind him, sweeps everything off the counter with a crash, plastic bottles of soap bouncing, a toothpaste container clicking against the tile, the toothbrush holder shattering and sending shards of ceramic pale on one side and rainbow-painted on the other everywhere. He stares at them clicking over the floor before they stop, some of them skimming the tile all the way to the wall.

Inside his head, there is a cry, bubbling up behind the wall that his life has been hidden behind, deep inside the cold pale light that all the worst things drown in.

Beneath the Drip, the needle in his arm, beneath the pain, the fear, the hands that moved over him and the bodies that moved inside him and the voice in his ear whispering, pet, pet, pet until he was one, until he wasn’t anything else any longer, until he was ready to be overwritten.

My, my, my name is Tristan Higgs, my name is, is, is Tristan, my name is-

Didn’t I tell you Tristan Higgs is dead, trainee? All that’s left of you is my pretty little whore. You wanted it so bad you signed up for this. Now get on your knees and show your handler some respect.

No, pl-please, please I don’t-, I, I, I don’t want to, I-

What you want doesn’t matter anymore, 223499.

Please-

What you want is irrelevant, trainee. Now let me show you what I want.

Inside his head there is a boy, screaming, his wrists forced down by larger hands, body rocked in a rhythm of terrible pain while a stranger who will be his entire world whispers in his ear, I paid extra for this and you did not disappoint, darlin’.

There’s a boy alone in a white room, painting with his own blood on pristine white walls, just to see color, just to see something, anything, that isn’t nothing at all. There’s a boy, alone, whispering apologies to the parents he is losing, their memories slip-sliding under the surface until they are gone.

There is a boy, screaming.

Chris screams with him, their voices in tandem, in echo, but it's the same voice, and the scream was always him, always Tristan Higgs inside him, buried beneath it all.

Chris screams until his throat is raw, bashes his hands into the mirror until it rattles under his fists, rocks forward to knock his head into it. Again, and again, and again, rattling it inside the frame, trying to force a break. The chaos inside him is too much, too strong, and at the center of the train tracks is her face, always her face, her hands, her lips moving and fighting to speak, her face.

I love you, baby, I l-love you, it's okay, it's okay-

Mom, please, pl-... please, no, no no no, I’m, I’m s-sorry, I’m so so sorry, I’m, I’m sorry-

Sssshhh, baby, it’s-... it’s okay, it’ll b-be okay, Tris, Mommy loves you, h-honey, Mommy-... loves you s-so much-... Her eyes shining like marbles, her blood on the wall, burbling from her chest as she fought and fought to breathe and then she stopped and her eyes, her eyes stayed open…

He laid with her and she was so cold and no one came to help him and no one came and they were both so cold and he stayed with them all night, wailing into her shirt soaked in blood, into his side, laid down between them and tried to keep them warm with blankets but they were gone and it didn’t matter and it was-

If it weren’t for you, she’d still be alive.

His aunt looks at him with hate or stares through him and there’s no routine and there’s no therapy and Aki is gone and his phone is gone and he hurts himself desperately just to feel something other than the chaos and the noise and the cracking, shrieking angry pain inside him, the guilt the blame the hate and oh, how he hates himself for not staying still the one time it counted and no one is coming and no one loves him anymore because they’re gone and his aunt doesn’t love him because he should never have been born-

If he weren’t born she’d still be alive-

"It's not okay!" He screams again, tearing at his hair, clawing at his arms, dragging deep red welts down on each side, trying to dig the pain out from inside of him. “It’s not okay, it’s, it’s, it’s not, it’s, it’s not, not, not, not-not-not, not okay, not-”

Please, pl-please, let, let, let me go-

Told you to stop rocking, didn’t I? You did this to yourself. Be still, statue boy.

Pl-please, I, I don’t know how-

You’ll learn.

His head snaps to the side with the imagined memory of a slap to the face, his breath catches with the pale shade of the shock collar lighting him up, nerves sparking shrieking agony, the needle in his arm, it's in his arm again this isn’t freedom he’s just gone crazy from drugs again and he’s on the Drip again and he was never not on the Drip he was, was never free no one saved him no one is coming-

He rocks forward, again and again, banging his head into the mirror until there's blood, until it cracks, bad luck for seven years, Tris, sucks to be us, and they laughed, the two of them, carefully picking the shards up to put in the wastebin and Aki grinned at him, unbothered, because his mom would probably forgive them and it wasn’t a big deal-

Let’s, let’s, let’s make up a, a routine, Aki, yeah?

Yeah, sure, but can we like… be normal teenagers for a half-hour first?

Um, how, how do we-

I thought we might start by watching TV and not doing our homework. You know, get crazy with it. Maybe even go super crazy and eat leftover pizza.

Chris's lips curl back from his teeth and he stares at himself in the mirror, his wide green eyes and pale eyebrows that darkened a little with age, blue hair that hangs around his face, frames the lines of his cheekbones. The gash along his forehead where he hit the mirror hard enough to open it, bright red blood welling up and slowly seeping out.

He lifts one hand, pressing his fingertips to the crack in the mirror that matches the cut in his forehead. There’s a little bit of blood there, and it smears under his fingers. For a second, he’s fascinated by it, the liquid that slips along, ripples his reflection.

It doesn’t feel like part of him. It’s just something he can control, when he can’t control anything else.

Behind him, the doorknob rattles, but Chris barely notices. “Chris?” It’s Jake’s voice, and Chris swallows, ignores the push, the urge, to let him in. Instead he keeps looking at himself, tries to see the boy inside his head, the boy in the room, under the men, the boy screaming in his head while his mouth learned to say all the words they wanted..

Come here, pretty-... oh, look at you, so full of tears for me, hm?

On your back, gorgeous boy.

On your knees, pretty pet.

What you want doesn’t matter anymore.

No isn’t an option for you any longer.

Don’t I always give you options, pretty thing? You can choose to be good, my good little slut, or…

“You, you, you can choose pain,” Chris whispers, finishing the sentence that started in his handler’s voice, in his mind. “Too, too, too… pretty to, to be for anything else. Too pretty… too, too pretty for, for, for…”

He nails the dismount for the first time on the the bars, his body does exactly what he wants, and he looks up to see his mom cheering for him, and he jumps up and down, hands moving, rocking with his happiness, and his team cheers for him, and his scores are really good so he can go to state and he’s so happy-

He’s so happy-

She’s so proud of him-

There’s a hand in his hair, jerking his head back to look up at his Sir, who smiles down at him, and Tristan can barely see him through his tears. He’s tied down and he can’t escape and he doesn’t know it’s his Sir, yet, he was still Tristan then but his Sir’s hand is in his hair and he whispers, God, I love that you came already flexible for me, sweetheart…

Please, n-no, please, I don’t want, want this, please, I-I-I don’t, I, I-... I need h-help, I didn’t… sign, yet, please call, call, call the the the-the cops-

Sssshhh. Sir’s finger to his lips, and he didn’t dare bite, even then. Hands on his wrists, forcing them down against the table. His back arches, trying to get away, and his Sir laughs at him, low soft chuckle, and boy weeps, turning his head to the side. You’re going to be perfect, sweet boy, I can already tell.

No, no, no no no, no, pl-please don’t, please, please, no, no, g-god, oh oh oh god, oh god, no-

I paid extra for this, and you did not disappoint.

The pain, when it comes, is blinding and never-ending and Tristan Higgs is screaming.

No one cares.

No one will come to save him.

Chris groans, pulling at his hair, trying to rip it out by the roots to settle his jangling shrieking nerves, scratching his fingernails down his cheeks as deep sa he can, smacking his hands again and again into the broken mirror, shrieking at the pretty face split apart by the cracks. A piece of the mirror falls out into the sink, and Jake is still talking, trying to open the door, but Chris isn’t listening.

He can’t hear Jake over the sound of his own mind turning against him, spitting memories he’d thought were gone, but no, dead things don’t always decay, sometimes they just wait to come back and tear out your throat and show you how it’s all your fault.

What about you, Tris? Mrs. Nakamura’s voice is gently teasing, soft and unassuming. She’s sitting with a book in a soft cozy chair somewhere with nice warm lights, and everyone watches Tristan’s hands move to tap on himself without judgement, without shame. We all know Aki can’t take his eyes off of that pretty Nicole girl-

Mom. No. Please, please do not talk about this. Oh my god. She’s just my teammate!

I’m just being silly, Aki.

It’s, um, it’s okay, Mrs. Na, na, Nakamura. I’m just-... nobody for, for, for me, right now. Tristan’s face is red, he’s blushing, and he hasn’t really thought about it much, beyond just thinking everyone is pretty, but he hasn’t told his mom yet, and-

Oh, well, maybe later. You two are so busy getting ready for state, anyway.

He can hear Jake back on the stairs, now, thumping down them and away, and Chris’s hands move rapidly over the sink and counter, avoiding the bits of shattered mirror. He’s standing in ceramic but he doesn’t notice, he doesn’t care. His body doesn’t belong to him, anyway, his body belongs to his handler his owner his rescuer his anyone but him it’s not his it’s not his body, they took his body and he doesn’t get it back…

He wants his body back.

He yanks open the drawer, shoving through the disposable shaving razors that Jake buys, the nail-clipping kit he keeps in here, a stupid little comb that he can’t see any use for, rolls of gauze and bandages, tossing them to the floor, until he finds what he’s looking for.

A pair of scissors, used mostly for gauze and bandages, big shining metal scissors that weigh heavy in his hands.

Chris stares up at himself in the remaining mirror, pulls a hank of his hair out straight with one hand, and clips right through it with the scissors. He lets out an exhale, and grabs another bit of hair, and does it again.

Blue drifts down to gather with the broken glass in the sink and on the floor, piling higher and higher as Chris keeps cutting, staring into his eyes and not looking at how even the cut is. He looks at the bloody mess on his forehead-

Mom, please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I, I, I moved, I’m so so sorry, I’m sorry…

It’s okay, baby-

Blood on the wall, he stayed there all night and no one came. She was cold, he couldn’t keep her warm all by himself.

“It’s, it’s not okay,” Chris whispers, and Sir’s hand is heavy on his neck, look at how you ruined yourself since you left me, darlin’, but his Sir can’t stop him because his Sir is dead, too. Everyone who cares for him dies but Jake and Antoni and Laken and maybe they’ll die, too, because of him, because he’s too pretty to be for anything else-

There’s blood on the featureless white wall and he pulls it through his fingers and it’s something that’s not white, he barely recognizes it as his blood, it’s just bright red and feels good under his fingers, the blood cools and dries so he hits his head and makes more, and more, and more-

He keeps cutting, until what’s left is a shaggy, unkempt mess, different lengths all over, and all his hard-won long hair is gone. He has wisps that hang over his forehead, little bits that tickle the tops of his ears. He cuts until it’s just little scruffs, barely blue at all.

He drops the scissors into the sink on top of the pile of blue hair, runs his hands back through his hair, watches more loose bits drift slowly downward.

He lifts his hands and takes out his piercings, one by one, dropping them into the sink with the hair, until his ears are bare, too, and his eyebrow. Nothing but a thin narrow face, nothing but freckles that stand out too much, nothing but big eyes and chin.

He pulls his shirt off over his head, and then his compression shirt. Takes off his pants and his boxers and then straightens to stare at himself naked in the bit of mirror still left.

“I, I’m good for you,” He whispers, tilts his head just right, looks up at himself through his eyelashes. His look is warm and liquid and well-trained, a show of desire he’s never once felt. He bites down on his lower lip, just so, hand moving as if to brush a bit of hair back - but the hair he might have touched is gone, it’s in the pile in the sink.

The look is ruined by what he’s done.

Good.

Wide green eyes, yeah, let’s see those eyes nice and empty for me, trainee, but they’re red-rimmed and shadowed, full of pain. His eyelashes - inhuman, unearthly, pretty boy - are barely visible. Freckles that stand out too much, I’m going to kiss every single one until you understand how beautiful you are, Chris, okay? scattered over his nose and the angled cheekbones. Narrow chin, perfect for gripping and moving his head around, smeared with drying blood. Bleeding from the slash across his forehead, running slowly down to stain his pale eyebrow darker, to run into his left eye, what the fuck did you do to yourself, trainee?

“Not, not a trainee,” Chris whispers. “Not a, a pet. Not Tristan. Not, not, not. I’m, I’m Chris, I made myself, I’m, I’m, I’m, I’m, I’m... I’m I’m Chris, I’m, I’m Christopher fucking Stanton, I’m-... I’m Chris.”

Big scratches down his cheeks, his neck, bright red welts that might turn to bruises, that he could open into bleeding, he could make himself so ugly no one ever wants him again. “Not, not, not so pretty anymore,” He whispers, and his throat closes up against the words, but it feels good, it feels important. “Not, not, not pretty, now.”

Not worth dying over, not worth breaking, not worth noticing, not worth taking, not worth buying, not worth rescuing, not worth being arrested for, not worth saving, not pretty enough to hurt, not pretty enough to love.

You fucking freak, I don’t know how Ronnie managed to think you were so great, you can barely brush your own teeth.

How the hell did she love you? You ruined her life.

If it weren’t for you...

The door suddenly jolts open, and Chris doesn’t flinch - he doesn’t look back - only stares at himself, rocking slowly forward and back on his toes and heels until his head bumps the cracks in the glass like the cracks inside of him, his hands twisting at the ends of his wrists to smack rhythmically into his sides, his hips, harder and harder, fighting to find the same soothing rush that motions like this normally bring.

It’s too loud, inside of him. It’s too much. He can’t stop the trains roaring up out of the light, bringing everything into the darkness where he only wants to hide.

“Holy shit, Chris,” Jake whispers, standing behind him, eyes wide with shock. “Wh-... why did you… Oh, Chris, no. Oh, no, oh fuck, Chris, you hurt yourself, you haven’t done that since-”

Chris turns, ceramic crackling underfoot, sharp little spikes of pain in his feet, and looks up into Jake’s eyes. “Tris, Tristan Higgs was pretty,” He says, weakly. “I don’t want to, to, to be pretty anymore.”

Oh, darlin’, aren’t you just pretty as a picture.

Open up, 499.

He’s such a sweet, handsome boy, Ronnie, you’d never know he had, you know...

You can just say it, you know. It’s not a dirty word.

You’re too pretty for anything else, 499, you were always going to be somebody’s slut.

You want it-

I, I don’t want to-

No one gives a fuck what you want.

I don’t, don’t, don’t want to, please-, pl-please, please stop, please please stop touching me-

What do you say, trainee?

I want this. I want you.

Good boy.

A shudder ripples through him, a memory of pain, long gone but still written over every inch of his body. Broken, and dirty, and used until he forgot how to be anything else. He feels suddenly exhausted, weighed down, too heavy to move. There’s a weight on his chest and every breath takes an effort, takes determination, and he is losing the battle.

His lip wobbles, and he feels infinitely young, like all the years didn’t happen, and he’s still just Tristan Higgs in the end, ready to be broken, bent, and twisted.

He looks at Jake, and his brother blurs with tears. “He was, was, was too pretty for an, anything else, I d-don’t want to, to-to-to be pr-pretty like him anymore-... s-so I made, made, made myself uh-ugly-”

Jake sweeps him up and Chris lets himself be swept. The cry is bubbling up again and he wails into Jake’s shirt, gripping into the fabric and twisting his hands, tears rolling down his cheeks and stinging into the places he scratched himself. He’s pulling, tapping, rocking his bloodied head into Jake’s shoulder, fighting the trains in his mind that aren’t thoughts but memories, each one fighting to be the first to hurt him by coming back to the surface.

They crash into each other, into the wall of cold white light. They break through.

Inside him the boy in the black collar is screaming, the boy in the collar is crying, the boy is laid back on silk sheets and cries tears he has to keep inside his head while his face is smiling and his voice makes all the right sounds, the boy has his wrists and ankles locked down to keep him still, the boy is curled up between his parents waiting for someone to come and nobody is coming, the boy wears a suit in court that itches and he can’t stop shaking his hands and the judge doesn’t like him and the social worker doesn’t like him and the boy is curled up on a bed in a windowless room missing his friends, the boy hits his head and hits himself and the words are gone and the boy is screaming the boy is screaming the boy is screaming-

Mom, can Tris sleep over tonight?

Again, Aki? Well, I guess I don’t see any harm. You’ve got half your closet in Aki’s room by now, anyway. Call you mom and ask her, Tris, okay?

You fucking freak, I wish you had died with your bastard father instead of her.

I hate you, I, I hate you so, so, so-so much-

You should hate your fucking self, Tristan.

I love you, kiddo. It’s you and me, right?

Right, Mom. You, you, you and, and me.

Til your dad comes home, anyway. Can’t wait ‘til he’s working days and we’re not alone at night, huh?

Your prospective will choose your name.

I, I’m a… number. My name is… 223499, Romantic designation, Facility 001. I am a pet and… and… a toy. I am an active par, participant in fulfilling m-my, my, my owner’s desires-

I paid extra and you did not disappoint.

On your knees, gorgeous boy.

I think we’ll play a game, sweetheart.

Show some respect, 223499.

Come here, darlin’.

Good boy

I love you, Tris

Good pet

It’s, it’s okay, it’s-... okay, I l-love you, it’ll be okay-

Good boy

The boy is screaming for help and nobody is coming to save him-

“I’ve got you,” Jake whispers, holding him tightly, and Chris buries himself into the warmth, the familiar scent, the feeling of Jake’s arms is branded deeper than anything else in the world. I will rescue you, I’ll come back to you, Chris, I promise, I’m here.

I want you I love you I’m here.

“You made Chris, and you’re still Chris. This is just all the shit they took from you, that’s all. It’s okay, you can cry, Chris, go ahead and cry. It’s okay, it’s hard when it comes back, and Kauri and Ant and Laken and I, we’re all here with you.”

Chris sobs in Jake’s arms, bleeding all over his shirt, but Jake doesn’t care. He holds him anyway. There’s a throbbing pain inside his head, but it’s not stronger than the memories, and the cold white light isn’t holding them back like it used to, anymore.

Her face, her hands, the blood coming out of her, the silent house around them.

Her face.

Her eyes.

She loved him.

Oh, no, did you fall down? Oh, it’s okay, honey, I’m right here, I’ve got you - it’s hard the first time, but we get back up and try again. Here, let Mommy give it a kiss - there, all better, right?

Therapy is rough sometimes, sweetie, but listen - we can do this, together, Tris. We can do the hard stuff if we do it together. D’you want a hug? Yeah, hugs can help make it better, right? That’s what moms do.

I heard the thunder, baby. Go ahead, climb in, I’ve got you, c’mere, I’ll hold you.

I want you I love you I’m here.

I l-love you, it’s okay, it’s okay, I love you, Tris...

“I, I, I don’t want to, to be Tristan Higgs,” Chris cries against Jake’s neck, shoulders shaking, rocking, rocking, rocking in his arms. Jake’s hands are up in what’s left of his hair, feeling the short, chopped strands, rubbing over the nape of his neck, soothing the twisting hurt and fear inside him. “I don’t, I don’t, he, he, he, it was his fault, for, for, for for for moving when he had to, to be still, and I wasn’t, I didn’t do it right, and they, they d-died because of me… I l-loved, I was, they, they, they shot them and-and left me and, and, and no one came, nobody came to help, no, no, no, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-”

“I know,” Jake murmurs. “I know. It wasn’t your fault, you were just a kid. It wasn’t your fault, Chris, whatever happened, it-... it wasn’t your fault. It was never your fault. You’re whoever you want to be, Chris, but Tristan is still a part of you, okay? We have to work on making everything integrate, work together, or it’s going to keep hurting. You have to get past the conditioning to forget, or it’s going to… get worse.”

Chris whimpers at the idea that he could feel any worse than this. “I don’t, don’t… don’t want to, to, to to to lose her again,” Chris whispers, shaking his head. “Don’t want to, to lose y-you-”

“Never. You can’t ever lose me, you’re stuck with me. I’m not going anywhere. Let’s clean up this mess, Laken is probably dying to talk to you-”

“No,” Chris whispers, begs without a voice. “No, not, not them, not… not yet.”

The scream is bubbling up again, the boy in the cold white room is rocking, rocking, rocking with his hands tied behind his back, can’t touch can’t hurt can’t feel can’t think someone help me but nobody is coming except the handler with his smile and his pain and his hands-

“Okay. No problem. Cleaning first. I’m going to bandage you up, and I’ll clean up the mess while you sit and maybe drink some water. But… can we… can we do one thing? Will you let me do one thing?”

“Wh, what?”

“Will you let me fix your hair?”

Chris pulls back a little to look up at Jake, and he smiles faintly back down, sympathetic and loving, and it’s not okay, but Jake is here, so it’s… it’s better than it would be if he were alone. “Um… y, yes, you, you you you, you can fix it.”

“Okay. I love you, little man. You weren’t supposed to see it so soon, we were going to get you ready, and it’s going to hurt coming back, but I promise… I promise it’s good for you to have it. Okay? Do you trust me, when I say that?”

Chris meets the sincere love in those blue eyes. “I, I trust you.”

He does. But he doesn’t believe him.

It’s okay, baby, it’s, it’s okay…

It’s not, and it never was, but… he remembers her face, at least. He remembers her voice.

He remembers her.

I love you, Tris, I’m so proud of you for doing the hard things, and I’m right here with you. I’ve got you, sweetheart. You and me, right? We can do all the hard shit as long as we do it together.

His fingers twitch, and he buries himself against Jake and sees her eyes full of tears and dying and her chest covered in blood and the blood on the wall and she tells him she loves him and then she doesn’t tell him anything anymore and her body is cold and Tristan curls up between them, blood drying on the wall and no one comes until the sun is shining and the blood is dry but Tristan is still crying-

Chris begins, again, to scream, but this time Jake is holding him, this time someone’s here, this time there’s someone who isn’t leaving, this time he can wail with arms around him and this time he’s not alone.

The boy is Christopher Stanton and he is Tristan Higgs and the boy is screaming and his brother came to help him and his brother is holding him tight.

I love you, Tris. I’m so proud of you.

I’m here, Chris. I’m not going anywhere.

I want you

I love you

I’ve got you

I’m here.

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary @orchidscript

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magpiing · 3 years

Note

Hi! Could i ask you your thoughts on Gon, Killua, Kurapika and Leorio?

HECK i never posted this.. this is so delayed im sorry anon ;A;

an excuse to talk about the main 4/hunter fam? *throws all my homework on the ground* don’t mind if i do :)

Gon: i tend to get attached to the sunshine boys in all the shows i watch, and hxh is no exception! i was instantly rooting for him during the fishing scene and love how bright and energetic he is (the scene with the kirikos was so fun to watch AH)! my heart broke during chimera ant arc i just want him to be happy sobs would take a bullet for this child

Killua: gosh usually the sunshine of the show is my fav but,, killua might be breaking that trend because holy heck his character is just? so well-written?? my first impression was “oh snarky assassin kid he’s p cool” but then we see his inner thoughts and fierce determination and love and oh my god the scene where hes fighting the rabbit chimera ant and he pulls the needle out i started crying rlly hard,, just,,, and also the scene with alluka and nanika... im getting so emotional over his character development even now i care killua so much ;;

Kurapika: ABSOLUTELY ADORE HIM omg,, i love the whole “calm and collected but can and will go apeshit” character trope and kurapika does not disappoint :D also i dont even need to mention this but he’s just,,, so pretty,, i wish we got to see more of him in the show and the movies ARGH we were robbed of >:( i lose my mind and want to scream at him for denying himself happiness ;-;

Leorio: last but not least the dad friendTM!! honestly i didn’t rlly like him in the beginning (that prisoner’s scene makes me want to bash my head into a wall) but i did tear up at the scene where he talked about his childhood friend and his reason for trying to become a hunter ;; and as the series went on i liked him a lot more and i really appreciate how much he cares for his friends :”)) i was cheering so loud when he punched ging LOL and then him and gon reuniting made me start crying ;; overall, i feel like he’s an incredibly smart, kind, and determined character and deserves way more screen time and interactions!!

tldr: i love them so much <3 ty for the ask!

#i dont think i finished writing gon or kurapikas but i thought i should just get this out :’)#ask magpi #magpi rambles #hxh #hxh spoilers

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midnightmoonkiss · 4 years

Text

How To Train A Demon

An adorable visual of Demon!Deku by @birds-have-teeth !!💙

Demon!Izuku Midoriya x Fem!Reader

Summary: Who knew you’d be teaching a man from the underworld your way of life, and who knew you’d slowly start to fall in love with the very being you were taught to fear?

WARNINGS! None!

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 12k

A/N: Day 12 of the Izumonth collab!

I had to split it into two parts due to limited time with editing, so the second part will be posted shortly after the collab ends!

I also want to thank @1a-imagines for helping me edit and find a good stopping point with this fic! I would not have finished it in time if it werent for her and her amazing talents!

Just To Clarify:

Takes place in early-ish Japan during the summer!

I did not do my history homework..

Reader does not have a job, and lives alone on the side of a mountain.

They say dark and stormy nights always bring chaos and misfortune.

That the scariest of tales are bred from the harsh splatter of rain on parched ground, the crackle of lightning in the sky illuminating the monsters that lurk deep in the shadows.

They always warn to fear those nights, to keep a lantern on and a knife under your pillow, for you never know what nefarious being is waiting to strike during your most vulnerable state.

And for the most part, it was true. Believable.

Of course, how could you not believe in such stories?

They were what you grew up with, what you were lectured with, a lesson repeatedly bashed into your skull from the minute you could understand them.

Everyone feared those nights.

Everyone feared the darkness.

It was always something so easy to be afraid of without even really being given a viable reason as to why other than tales passed on for generations.

You fear what you do not understand.

Especially those who lived alone, people like you.

People who needed fear to keep them alive more than the next person.

A small house on the mountainside, surrounded by thick forests and shrines to gods of ancient times. Lands protected and blessed by predecessors, symbols carved into trees and painted on rocks to banish the evil.

But alone you lived, alone your fears manifested into a ball of terror-filled paranoia, regardless of anyone’s true sense of reason.

Could you always rely on a symbol to keep you safe?

This particular night would unknowingly bring those fears to life.

But then again, it’s impossible to expect the unexpected, regardless of what others may say or encourage.

Thunder clapped loudly in the sky as rain assaulted your wooden rooftop, something usually so peaceful amplified by the altitude and sounding like a million dancers stomping on the old wood, dragging you into a restless sleep as stray drops drip from your ceiling, echoing in a metal pan at the far side of your room from a leak you had yet to repair.

Body curled into a ball, you gasped involuntarily when a bright flash illuminated your room, followed immediately by the raging roar of the sky as it split in two once again.

It was safe to say you would suffer through another sleepless night, fingers digging into the meaty flesh of your poor pillow as you fought to maintain a steady breath as the violent storm raged on outside, howling winds only adding to the dreadful abundance of creepy noises.

Nights like these you wished you weren’t alone.

Perhaps you would have been less afraid if your deceased family didn’t decide to live on the mountain instead of in the valley.

Though you desired to move down there where lanterns illuminated the sky at night, you couldnt abandoned what little you had left of your kin.

Instead, you sucked it up, like you always managed to do.

You were an adult, after all, one that theoretically should have been married already, but alas.

You craved freedom more than you craved to be tied down by a ring of false promises. That, and the fact that typically parents were the ones who set up marriages.

As another bang of thunder rang out in the night, you squeezed your tired eyes closed, imagining someone was there with you, wrapped securely in their embrace, even if just for a moment. Someone there to calm your breath down, to protect you from the loneliness that stabbed at your weeping heart.

Whimpering, your legs rubbed together as a cold chill filtered into the room, creeping up your spine as goosebumps ran down your skin, the garment you wore doing next to nothing at keeping you warm.

Perhaps you should have kept the fireplace going.. An old, rusty oil lantern with a small flame could only do so much. Then again, it was more of a light source than a heat source, so you couldn’t really complain.

With a huff, you dragged the thick covers over your head, sealing in what little warmth you had.

It was like a warm cocoon, almost. A little bundle of protection. You could barely even see the flashes anymore, but that just meant the thunder would swoop down on you like a hawk, startling you every time.

But what else is one to do other than to wait out the storm?

The sun would rise eventually, just as it always has and just as it always will.

Since the beginning of time, the sun blessed the lands with a golden glow, shrouding its children in warmth and love. The moon was like it’s bitter sister, cold and cruel, taking away the light that led her people through her darkness.

Some nights she was merciful, and others- gone from the sky completely.

This night just happened to be one of those nights.

So not only was it violent, rainy, and cold, this night was also one without any true lights.

Stars were a blessing in disguise, their brightness concerningly dim.

At least you had your lantern and that dirty old katana your father left behind.

You were safe.

At least you thought you were, but a sudden cry bellowing through the night tore the thick atmosphere apart, sending chills down your spine and making the grip on your blanket as tight as ever.

What.. was that?

It sounded almost like..

Like a wounded animal..

Just then, a flash of light blinded your vision, a sickening roar accompanying it. The ground shook as you whimpered, eyes wide with fear.

A bolt must have struck close to home..

It’s okay.

Everything is okay.

Breath heavy and body shaking, you comforted yourself with logic- an old friend you abandoned.

An animal just got hurt, was all. Perhaps a tree fell on it, or maybe it got attacked by another animal!?

It might even have been that howling wind that acted up sometimes!

Everything was okay.

It’s okay.

Nothing to fear.

It’s just a storm.

Just a storm.

You’re safe.

You’re inside.

The light guides you, the charms protect you, the shrines embrace you.

You’re okay.

It’s just a storm.

It’s just a

SCRSSSSHHHHH!!

CRASH!

“AHHH!”

A blood-curdling scream tore from your throat as something suddenly crashed through your window, the loud sound of wood tearing apart and clanging to the floor was followed by a heavy thud and the splash of rain on your padded floor at the gaping hole given to it.

Screaming in terror, your frantic hand grabbed the blade at your side, shaking body scrambling backwards to the other side of the wall, pulling it from its sheath.

You were trapped, you had no exit!

The only exit you had was where whatever the fuck that is just crashed!

Oh gods!

You’re going to die!

This was it!

A fucking storm!

A fucking goddamn storm!

God, you were a fool!

Hyperventilation crept up on you like a venomous snake, its cold body constricting tightly around your chest and throat, cutting off your oxygen supply and freezing your numb fingers.

You were scared shitless, that was for sure, and all you could do was helplessly stare with wavering eyes at a large, haunting silhouette in the corner of the room. The small light, now seemingly miles away, providing next to no coverage of this massive figure, only gifting the room more horrific shadows.

You wanted this to be a dream, that what the elders warned wasn’t true.

This was just a nightmare.

A scary nightmare your mind conjured up like it always did.

Rain splattered against your sickly pale face, the droplets mixing with the burning hot tears that poured down your cheeks as you fought to keep a steady hand and to slide up the wall to stand.

Old, dull blade pointing forward, you couldn’t help by cry out as the dark figure moves ever so slightly.

A crash of light drowns out your sobs, swallowing the room in a dull white glow for a mere moment, enough of a moment to give you a glimpse of this creature.

You wish you hadn’t seen it, that you indulged in your ignorance for a moment, that you didn’t see the way large, black wings sprouted from the back of a human.

Horns glistened with water atop its head, long tail thrashing wildly as its body moved to get up.

Your breathing stopped the minute it opened its eyes, a vicious, glowing green staring off at the destruction it caused.

Heart roaring in your ears, you did nothing but stare.

It was as if your blood had ran as cold, for all you could think to do was to silently pray to the gods that everything would be okay.

That your life would not end.

That you would still have a chance to become what you were supposed to be, and not die a lonely child by the hands of a beast.

Suddenly, its eyes snapped to your own, wide pupils turning into menacing slits as it gazed at you with malice, an animalistic growl rumbling in its chest, sharp teeth that could easy rip your throat out on full display.

Blade slipping from your numb hands, black dots spotted your vision as you promptly fainted from fear, accepting death in its imminent wake as your knees crash against the floor.

‘So this truly was the end’.. You thought to yourself as you body drifted lifelessly in a void of black, fingers outstretched as if reaching for something that would never be there.

Death was always something to think about, the burning question always attacking your mind as to how exactly you would die. You figured you’d be mawed to death by a wild boar of sorts, tusks tearing through the ligaments in your legs, praying you’d die from bleeding out before its teeth dug into your skin, eating you alive.

Or perhaps you’d die as most women do these days, walking alone before you’re kidnapped by an enemy.

Death by what could only be described as a demon never truly crossed your mind despite you being warned by it.

It seemed impossible.

Why would a demon want you of all people?

Though, you were.. an easy prey.

‘I’m sorry..’ you whispered to yourself, hoping your words of sincerity would cross the plains of existence and comfort those you would ultimately leave behind, which wasn’t many, and those you were soon to visit. You let your eyes slip shut to close off the suffocating abyss, embracing death.

“Ugh!” you groaned uncomfortably as a bright light assaulted your closed eyes, dragging you from your sleep.

No.. was this sleep?

You couldn’t be too optimistic..

Turning over, your back promptly blocked out the headache-inducing light, bare arm coming up to rub the drowsiness from your eyes as you blinked in your surroundings.

Well.

There wasn’t really anything to look at since you were facing a wall.

More specifically, your bedroom wall. A simple, faded, dark wood design.

Humming, your fingers tap against the tatami floor, chewing on your lip as you struggled to comprehend the beating of your own heart.

Were you alive?

It was hard to tell, you didn’t exactly have an accurate depiction of the afterlife.

Oh boy.

If you were dead, your family would kill you again no doubt for dying so early.

Of course, you can never please your ancestors, especially if you don’t leave something behind to continue your family’s lineage.

Maybe it was a good thing that you were dead, actually.

It didn’t take but a moment to notice the unusually loud sounds of nature attacking your ears and the wet, earthy scent flooding your nose.

The rain had ceased, and the morning birds were singing their usual cheerful tune.

The delicate jingle of your wind chime could be heard as it swayed ever so gently in the wind, having previously been frantically dinging all night long.

At least you were welcomed with open arms to your afterlife, after promptly being murdered by some weird fucking overgrown bat demon.

Who knows, maybe it wasn’t a demon.

Demons didn’t look like that? No, they were much creepier, but it wasn’t like you had anything real to compare it to.

Grumbling to yourself, you ran a hand through your messy hair, finding the oily, tangled mess utterly disgusting.

You really should take a bath soon.

Does the afterlife have baths?

You would throw a fit if not, you need your weekly soak, even if the water wasn’t that warm.

You’d be damned if you didn’t get a minute to relax and destress.

But then again, is there even stress here?

You’d have to find out later, for now, you should stop staring at your dirty old wall like some sort of lunatic, give this whole afterlife a go.

Slapping your bare thighs, eyes sparkling with determination you go to turn around before promptly screaming your heart out as fright squeezed the life out of you once more.

Large, snake-like green eyes bore into your own, only a hair length away.

Throat dry, you flung yourself back against the wall as you fought to scramble away, only for this creature to follow your every movement as you pushed yourself into a corner.

All you could see was green.

Green.

The type of green that reminded you of toxic flames erupting from an innocents body as it succumbs to possession.

You swore you were dead, but perhaps you have yet to meet your untimely end.

“Please!”

You cried, tears pouring down your raw cheeks as your arms wrapped protectively around your head, “Please don’t hurt me!” sobbing, you squeezed your eyes shut, waiting.

Waiting was always a horrifying game, you never knew when the waiting would stop and when you could breathe again.

But death never greeted you.

It was odd in a way.

It was as if you were expecting so much, that to not be given it was even more confusing.

Lips wobbling, you slowly peaked your eye open, breathless as you noticed this human-like creature suddenly at the other end of the room, clawed fingers tapping together at it shifted nervously from bare foot to foot.

…

What the-?

“I-i’m so sorry! I, I must’ve scared you so much… I’m really sorry!”

You stared in shock as this… man fell to his knees, thumping his forehead onto the floor in an apologetic bow, wings bent and folded at his sides.

You were speechless.

Truly, what the hell?

Was this even real?

You couldn’t tell anymore.

This all seemed so questionable.

It was certainly what crashed through your home- of fuck!

Gasping, you finally got a good luck at the true destruction.

Oh, your window was completely ruined! Broken wood stuck out everywhere, even looking at it made you feel like you were going to get a splinter!

How are you supposed to fix that when you haven’t a coin to your name?

Fuck.

Wait.

Oh, right!

There was!

This creature!

What the hell.

Breathing heavily, you fought to calm yourself down as you got a good look at this thing.

Its hair was messy, mud, twigs, and leaves entangling itself in its thick, dark green curls. It was hard to ignore the two large black horns atop its head, locks wrapping almost possessively around them.

Pointy ears caught your attention, a strange earpiece dangling from one with an upside-down, obsidian Christian cross.

Of course, what mostly caught your attention were the two large black wings sprouting from its scarred back, a thin black tail idly swaying back and forth.

His cream-colored skin was wet with water, dotted with freckles, and littered with scars varying in sizes.

All and all, you were dumbfounded.

Eyes bouncing around the room, you looked for your sword, desperate for some sort of protection, something you could say you tried to fight it off with if worse came to inevitable worse.

Oh!

There!

It was only a few feet away from you, and do as you must, you slowly crept forward, crawling on your hands and knees, sneaking around in hopes it wouldn’t lift its head and pounce on you.

Unfortunately, you pressed on a particularly creaky floorboard, and its head snapped up, fear causing you to jump for the sword before shakily aiming it at the demon once more.

“S-stay back!” you warned with a wavering voice, though you knew for a fact you looked like a crying child who could do no real harm.

Eyes stared into each other once more, this time from a safer distance. You were just about to speak again when it spoke up, its voice a calmer and not as frantic, “You’re holding that wrong.”

“Excuse me?” you answered without a beat, astonishment lacing your words as curiosity rose onto your face, how on earth did this thing know that?

“You’re holding the katana wrong,” it pointed at your hands on its handle, sharp black fingernail catching your ultimate attention, “You shouldn’t hold it just at the bottom, you need to space your hands out more. You would not be a threat to anyone if you hold it like that.”

Was… was it seriously lecturing you right now?

Eye twitching with annoyance, you slid your hands into the position described, “Just like that! Perfect!” it smiled brightly at you, green eyes slipping closed as it praised you like a teacher to a student who did good.

“Shut up!” you shouted, scrambling to your feet, flames of anger igniting within your body as you took a step forward.

With an inhuman screech, its wings folded protectively around its body, “Ack! I’m sorry! I just wanted to help you!”

What is going on?!

This, this wasn’t! This wasn’t supposed to be happening right now, right?? It was just about to kill you!

Could you even call it an "it", it looks like a man!

Is it a man? How do demons work!

Why is this happening right now!

You couldn’t wrap your head around it, and it was beyond infuriating!

“Who and what are you!” you snarled out, surprise blossoming in your eyes at the sheer ferocity you just displayed, but annoyance sure is a force to be reckoned with.

Wings cracking open ever so slightly, and you can just barely see an innocent green eye peaking out.

“M-My name is Midoriya.. Midoriya Izuku.. I’m.. I am a.. I know it sounds weird, but I’m a demon..”

So you were right.

This is a demon, just not one you were used to.

Yokai was what they’re called here, red, devilish creatures that sought destruction.

This certainly wasn’t a yokai, surely, despite his cheeks being a subtle red.

“I mean you no harm..” he meekly whispered, unfolding his large wings just to put his hands in the air, defenseless.

You weren’t convinced.

But then again, what were you supposed to do?

It wasnt as if you were taught how to handle a situation where an animal crashes into your house in the middle of a thunderstorm just to be there the next morning watching you sleep like some sort of creepy stalker.

When life gives you lemons, though, right?

Well, you hated lemons.

Or, at least these lemons.

No, that doesn’t apply here surely. This is a man, not a lemon.

Regardless, you were stuck on what action you should take.

Caution was definitely one. Though it hadn't harmed you in any way and was looking pretty beat up itself, you couldn’t run the risk of being too trusting too early only to end up with your throat ripped out.

There, of course, is still the question as to how it was able to enter holy lands such as these, lands protected from such devilish creatures.

They were supposed to combust into flames upon entering, right?

Closing your eyes for a moment, you took a deep breath, letting a scowl settle onto your face as you glared at this ‘Midoriya,’ “Why are you h-”

“Wait, wait wait!” he suddenly shouted out, arms waving frantically in front of his burning red face, “B-before uh! You do whatever you’re going to do, c-can you..” words were whispered under his breath as his arms wrapped childishly around his head, averting his gaze to the side, “Can you fix.. your garments…? Please?”

Stunned, you gaped at him, confused as to what he meant. Fix your garments? They were perfectly fine!

Only, they werent.

To your utter horror, your loose robe had begun to slip, completely exposing your left shoulder and the top of your breast.

It probably would have been more embarrassing if you didn’t still have a bit of adrenaline coursing through your veins, so naturally, you nonchalantly fixed up your robe.

Izuku sighed in relief, arms unraveling from his head.

“Now, what was your ques-”

“Why are you here.” You repeated, wanting definite answers as to what the fuck a demon was doing in these parts, and why it crashed into your beautiful house.

Hell, a bird just flew in! It’s going to be unimaginably cold in here tonight!

“Thats a uh,” he chuckled nervously, eyes drifting to look out into the forest covered in morning dew as he lightly scratched at his cheek with that sharp nail. He shifted so that he was sitting with his legs crossed over one another, tail flopping onto his lap to no doubt keep his decency.

He was clearly naked. How had you not noticed this before?

Where you too caught up in your head to realize this entire time he was bare?

And yet he had the gall to tell you to fix yourself up? It was hard to tell if he was being a gentleman or a fool.

Regardless, you ‘d never seen a naked man before. Perhaps muscular arms at most as village men helped their wives and older folk about.

But completely in the nude? Bare chest, legs out? Never.

You’d have to swallow down that bubble of nervousness, ignoring the heat on your cheeks, too eager to hear his answer rather than get wrapped up in ‘oh god he’s hot’ thoughts.

“A long story..”

“Everyone always says its a long story. Stop avoiding the question, and answer it before I cut your head off!” You bravely declared, only for his viridescent eyes flashing with mischief to flicker over to you with a momentary smirk on his lips.

It was almost as if his face turned into the personification of ‘is that so?’ and honestly, you do not blame him for reacting in such a way. You didn’t even know how to hold this old katana until a few minutes ago when told you how.

He was obviously trying to hide that display of cockiness as he coughed into his tattooed fist, “Well, if you’ve got the time-”

“I do.”

“H-how much?”

Eye twitching with aggravation, you promptly sat down on your knees, the sun-warmed tatami mat beneath you offering some comfort to your chilled bones.

“As long as you need.”

It didn’t take long for him to spit out his story, having no real choice in the matter.

Apparently, he was an exiled demon.

Who knew demons of all things could be banished from the underworld?

According to him, demons were the incarnation of evil, bred from human hatred and misery, taught to become a monster who wreaks havoc on the innocent and guilty, but he was different.

Since birth, or his ‘manifestation’ as he strangely called it, he was much kinder than those around him. Pure and sweet, hiding it behind a mask of cruelty in fear of the banishment now bestowed upon him.

So here he is in all his glory, a permanent seal of banishment printed in black ink onto his left pectoral in the form of broken kanji and crescent moons.

It was quite a lovely mark, really, but to him, it meant lonely freedom.

But, who knew demons can’t fly for shit in the rain? Certainly not him. Salty water splattered in his eyes, blinding him after a loud crack of lightning tore a scream from his throat - which explained the cries of an animal in pain.

And so he crashed through your home, a scared animal.

It was hard to tell if you were lucky or not, considering the charms didnt work at all.

At least you had a reason now, the mark he was branded with took away his demonic possession.

He was more of a human now than a demon, powers stripped away, not that he used them.

The only problem was, he looked like a demon.

Horns? Check. Reptillian eyes? Check. Lare, bat-like wings? Check. A tail that looks like it could easily stab someone? Check.

Not to mention the strange tattoos under his eyes and on his left arm, something he was supposedly born with and which was unique to himself only.

To you, the intricate tattoo looked like a bunny ensnared in thorny vines on his arm, but he was quick to take offense before laughing boyishly.

You were absolutely stuck on what you should do with him.

Tossing him to the snakes and boars would surely be too cruel, but keeping a demon in your house?

How maddening! You were lucky no one came around these parts to snoop in on whats inside.

Though, despite it being absolutely ludicrous, you allowed it. That is, because of his promise that he’d fix your window. Heavens know you certainly cant do it yourself.

He was insistent that you should sleep in the dusty guest bedroom, a smaller room with a mere futon and window, lacking the furniture you had, as he stood guard at the opening at night.

Demons apparently didnt sleep much?

Lucky you.

And so now, by events you never could have seen coming, you have a giant cat looming over your shoulder.

It was hard not to let your guard down so fast around him when he was so.. innocent. So open and kind, always willing to help around the house, and always quick to jump away if he began to do something wrong.

His curiosity was truly adorable, though.

Most days he’d stare in wonder at something new with an awestruck expression, eyes sparkling as he’d take a brush and ink, scribbling down notes about it in a foreign language on a piece of parchment, even attempting to draw it. He would always ask you about it later, showing you what he had written down, and if you could answer, you would. He’d always thank you profusely before writing down what you’d said.

You couldn’t understand what he wrote, it’d always be a mystery, but it certainly was an intricate language.

The only problem was he was so used to being naked all the time that it was an embarrassing struggle to get him to not only get into clothes but to also wear them. The most he was willing to wear was a sash from as robe wrapped around his waist. He disliked the constricting feeling of fabric clinging to his body, slipping out of it whenever you got him dressed.

It really did give you the chance to actually know what a man looked like, that, as well as study him. He was littered with scars ranging from small, faded, fresh, large, it truly was a painful sight the days you decided to dwell on them.

He had told you a few stories already about how he had gotten certain ones, and most stories were ones filled with pride and determination, winning fights or protecting others.

Each scar held an interesting story, except the one on his neck, which was gained from forgetting he had sharp nails in a fit of frustration.

As you found out later that first day of knowing him, his wings and horns had the ability to shrink, not only giving him more mobility inside the house, but also taking away that spike of anxiety whenever you’d see them near a fragile object. Besides, their tiny selves were oh so cute, not that you’d ever openly say that.

And so, two weeks had passed, and there was still that dreadful broken window. Izuku had been kind enough to clean up the mess he made, insisting to do so after your intense interrogation, so it truly was an out of place marker of destruction now.

Its stay was to be expected, considering you didn’t have a replacement. No, you’d need to buy one.

Oh, buying. A poor man’s nightmare.

But as it turns out, demons are quite good at finding valuable things in the wilderness.

Or at least, that’s what he explained to you when he showed up one morning covered in dirt and mud, twigs all in his hair, boring an appearance similar to his first arrival, showing off a handful of silver and copper coins, as well as two golden ones.

In short, you were too busy drooling at the sight to care about how exactly he got it.

Travelers were often dropping coins anyway, so it surely doesn’t matter. Besides, his accomplished smile was far too sweet to tarnish with questions.

“You’re dirty, again.” you bluntly pointed out after thanking him for his find, pouring the coins into a small, worn pouch containing only two copper. Tying it up, you were quick to place it back on the shelf, hiding it behind a book of heroic tales.

“O-oh.. I didn’t notice..” he laughed awkwardly in that boyish manner he seemed to always have, large hands immediately going to brush off the caked mud on his legs and arms.

“Absolutely not, mister! I just cleaned!” Scolding him, you grabbed his wrist before he had the chance, glaring up into his surprised, foresty green snake-like eyes.

“If you’re going to shake your dirty little self off, go do it outside!”

At times, you acted more like a mother than you did anything else with him. But to be fair, he did come to this practical new world without any true knowledge of its customs, what you can and cannot do. Surely not making the house someone let you graciously stay in dirty was a universal thing.

He openly stared at you, innocent eyes glistening and wobbly lips reminding you of a kicked puppy.

Ouch.

“S-sorry,” he promptly apologized, attention snapping to your smaller hand still gripping his wrist, pink dusting over his chubby, freckled cheeks.

Sighing, you patted his large arm, picking up on the way it made his wings flutter, “It’s alright. Just go pat yourself off outside. I’ll set up a bath for you. I don’t need dirt everywhere in here again.”

Nodding eagerly, a bright smile overtook his face, showing off his unusually sharp canines.

Perhaps you would’ve been afraid had he shown them off in a vicious way again, but he was far too excited at the prospect of submerging his body in heated water to seem at all threatening.

You watched for a split second as he ran off, head instantly whipping to the side when he suddenly threw off the measly piece of fabric wrapped around his thin waist, tail curling around his muscular leg that you definitely haven’t been staring at throughout all this time.

You would have yelled after him for stripping if you weren’t so flustered.

You’d doubt you’d ever get used to it, seeing him nearly naked all the time. Artists were right to draw demons naked it seems, they truly didnt have any shame.

A blessing and a curse.

Grumbling, you began the long process of filling the metal tub with buckets of water from the well out back, igniting a small flame beneath it so the water would be warm upon his arrival.

Speaking of which, he was taking an unusual amount of time.

Surely you didn’t have to be worried, but it had been at least half an hour at this point, right? It doesn’t take that long to brush yourself down, does it?

Unease built in your gut, and you began pacing around the house, chewing anxiously at your fingernails as the old boards creaked beneath your feet.

He was very capable of handling himself, he was a fairly strong and intimidating soul, but what if he ran into someone? Your house wasn’t too far from the village, it was very plausible that he could’ve run into a hunter!

What if he was dead!

Oh gods, was he dead?!

And you had just put so much effort into running a bath for him!

Should you look for him?

What if he doesnt come home?

Maybe he’s lost?

Or stuck in a trap!

There were so many different possibilities, that your feet began to move on their own, the long sleeves of your kimono flapping behind you as you rushed towards the door where he had jumped out of, only to slam into a much larger and sturdier frame the minute you were about to exit.

“Hyah!” you cried out from surprise, being knocked backward.

Two hands quickly caught your flailing arms before you had the chance to land flat on your ass.

Looking up in a panic, you were relieved to see the familiar, warm green gaze of Izuku.

“Careful!” he was now the one to scold, playfully pouting his reddened lips. Breathless from worry and slamming into him, you jumped to your feet, taking a moment to catch your breath.

“D-don’t tell me to b-be careful!” whining, embarrassed at the fact that you had been pressed so close to him, you adjusted your oversized kimono that had slipped ever-so-slightly at the rough collision.

“Mmm~ Be careful?” he teased, leaning down just to purr beside your flushed face his cold, dangling earring tickling the skin at your neck.

Smacking his shoulder, you let out an annoyed huff, only to screech a second after, blood burning your cheeks as you turned away so quickly you could hear the sleeves slap against his body, “Put some clothes on, damnit!!”

“I thought I had to be naked for a bath?” It was annoying how you could tell he was pulling your strings, no doubt his head was tilting as he batted his lashes at your smaller frame, like he always did when given the chance to be a tease.

Growling to yourself, you pointed off to the direction where the bath was prepared, desperate to escape from this trap you had set yourself in, “Then go bathe, you dirty, dirty boy!” At this point, you were on the verge of flat out shoving him into the bathroom, wanting to escape from his nude self.

You’d clearly have to start forcing him to wear clothes more, putting your foot down if he was to stay in this house.

You did not need a heart attack every morning at seeing a naked man waiting eagerly for you to awake, only for a wide smile to blossom on his face, tail thumping loudly on the ground and wings flapping like a bird when he noticed you blink your eyes open.

Of course, a pillow was always thrown at him, the plea for him to wear some clothes always on your tongue, but alas, you were lucky if he wore his piece of fabric, that flimsy sash you had half as mind at throwing away just so he would be forced to wear something else.

“O-okay..” his shy self seeped back in, his fingers visibly poking together, an anxious habit you presumed. Feet thumping against the floor, he traveled down the hall and to the bath, a loud gasp echoing down the corridor when he noisily jumped in, water sloshing. “So warm!”

“Please clean up your mess-!”

It was almost like dealing with a child, except this child was hundreds of years older than you and a grown-ass man, if that was a positive or negative- you’d never know.

It wasn’t until the next day you got him to fully wear a kimono, an old one your father had left behind. It fitted him, truly, black with green vines snaking down the sides and wrapping around the cuffs. It was a nightmare to get him in it, though.

Not that he wasn’t obedient, no, he truly did try his best to please you, but perhaps it just wasn’t something he could easily comprehend just yet, not to mention you had to somehow squeeze his wings into the outfit.

His tail was easy to hide due to the kimono reaching the floor, but thank god for hats because truly it was impossible to hide his horns any other way.

But the poor man was clearly unhappy, lips pouty and eyes droopy as he shifted from one foot to the other.

“They.. feel weird..” he tried to explain, pulling at the neckline, only for you to swat his hand away. “You’ll get used to it.” you reassured.

Grabbing the coin pouch you had placed on the shelf, you made him carry a sack over his shoulder, something to not only hide his lumpy wing covered back but to also carry the supplies you’d be purchasing soon.

It would be impossible to hide his facial markings, so you didn’t attempt. The thought of smearing mud on his cheeks did cross your mind, but alas, that would look suspicious. If only tattoos weren’t so taboo, and if only he didn’t have such suspicious ones.

Everyone in the village knew you, knew your story, and they knew you were alone. You had no doubts they’d ask who this mysterious stranger was, or at least openly gawk at him. You could avoid certain nosey fuckers, but at times it was unavoidable

Grabbing his sleeve, you led him out the front door, quick to slide it shut before walking down the dirt trail.

Perhaps you could say he was a distant relative? You didn’t have any distant relatives, so that would, unfortunately, be a bust. You placed your finger on your chin, thinking as you allowed your body to walk down the familiar path on autopilot, head in the clouds as you thought.

Curse these nosy ass people, already knowing everything about you!

Perhaps he was a traveler you found lost in the storm? Or he found you?

No.. that wouldn't explain the markings..

You needed to come up with something!

Grrr!

Oh! Oh! Wait!

“Midoriya..” you began, tilting your head curiously towards him.

His lips pressed into a thin line, already recognizing that mischievous glint in your mesmerizing (e/c) eyes.

Was that even a way he should describe them? Perhaps not, but he would be a fool to disagree with the statement formed in his head.

Gulping, he stuttered out nervously, focus shifting from you to the path in front of his wooden sandal-clad feet, shoes he wasnt too happy with, “Y-yes..?”

“Do you know what ninja’s are?”

You’re a genius.

“I, uhm, I’ve heard about them..why?”

“Mmm.. what have you heard?”

“Just that they’re skilled with a blade and sneaking around..” He looked at you dumbly, eyebrow arched as you only smiled back at him, adding to his own confusion.

“You’re gonna be a ninja, then.” You boldly declared out, catching his arm as he suddenly stumbled over a rock as he sputtered.

“W-wha?! B-but I- I’m n-not a ninja!”

“I know that, but listen! The people at the village don’t! I have no doubts they’re going to poke and prod at you, wondering who you are.. A ninja that stumbled upon my house in the middle of a storm would explain your sudden appearance and your facial tattoos, and Hell, even your eyes!”

Filled with a sense of victory, you grinned ear to ear, amazed at how you had come up with such a solution on the spot.

You truly were creative.

A gift, maybe.

Oh, man! All the village women are going to be so jealous! Always quick to say you’d end up alone, but boy were they wrong! Here you have it, a ninja demon following you around! Suck on that, widows!

Wanting to gauge his reaction, seeing as he went oddly silent, you looked over at him, only to stop in your tracks and have your arms go limp by your sides.

“W-wha…” face scrunching up, you stared at him, bewildered. He was pointing at his cheek, smirking at you, showing off the fact that not only had his eyes gained a human-like pupil, which now looked odd on him, but the fact that the markings now looked like smudged paint.

It was dumbfounding.

“What the hell happened to your face..” trailing off, you couldnt help but scratch at your head, running possibilities through your mind but coming up with no true solution.

“Demons have the ability to switch from eyes that can see well in the dark to eyes that cannot! I forgot about it until you pointed them out, to be honest! So thank you for that!”

He was smiling boyishly again, only to flush deeply as you grabbed his face, soft, small hands on his cheeks, pulling him down to your height as you examined his features.

“(Y-Y/N).?!” he squeaked, breath catching in his throat as you peered deeply into his surprised green orbs, face so close he could feel your nose brushing against his, and all he could do was stand still.

His hot breath was ragged as it fanned across your face, and though he knew you were examining the sudden change in appearance, he couldn’t help the way his heart hammered in his chest. You were so, so close!! He swore if he just.. leaned forward ever so slightly, he could.. Catch your lips in a sweet kiss. He glanced down, focus going hazy as he zeroed in the way your lips shined in the sunlight trickling just barely through the gaps of leaves above him, forcing his own lips to twitch in anticipation.

Would it be so bad if he, hypothetically speaking, kissed you right now?

Oh, what a thought!

He couldnt tell. Hell, he couldnt even think.

Your scent was so intoxicating at this moment, flooding his senses, and it left his devilish desires to want more, fingers inching towards your waist.

He was knocked out of his strangely lustful thoughts when you repeatedly papped his cheek to catch his attention.

Body going stiff, his hands flung back to his own sides before jerking his head up to look at you once more. Had you been talking to him? Did you say something? He didnt know, his attention hyperfocused on… something else at the time.

Your aggravated tone cut through his body like a freshly sharpened steel blade, noticing the way your face scrunched up once more at finding he hadnt heard you the first time.

“I said, what did you do to your eye markings?”

“H-huh?!” he stuttered out, only to internally slap himself as he took a moment to process the question, “I- I just.. smeared some mushed up black berries on m-my cheek..”

It was embarrassing to admit such a thing, especially considering his right hand is still sticky with its pigmented juice, droplets dripping from his fingers. He had half a mind to lick them up, sucking on the digits just to gauge your reaction as you watched him so intensely. No! Bad, bad Izuku! Stop that!

“I-I thought it could be.. like some sort of ink.. b-but I didn’t have any ink on me so- so I grabbed some berries..”

“Is that why you smell so sweet? I was tempted to lick your cheek for a minute there.” Confessing that, you ended the conversation by spinning around and walking on. Delays were never good, especially since you didn’t have all day, and you definitely wanted to sleep in your own room tonight. The guest one was.. a bit too stuffy for your liking.

He followed you, huffily licking at the juice covering his hand and ignoring the stickiness coating his lips and cheeks.

Next time, he would be sure to use a sort of paint or something. At least then it could be marked off as some sort of fashion trend and not actual tattoos. After all, what innocent man had tattoos?

Of course, for his kind, they were common and apart of your identity, but here? It was a symbol of bad luck it seemed. Impurity. Not that he wasnt impure.

“Walk faster!” You called back to him, alerting the green-haired man lost in his thoughts that he had been walking too slow.

“C-coming!”

It wasnt too long before you had finally reached the entrance to the village, taking a moment to look over the old wooden arch covered in vines before walking past. Your sandals, as well as his own, clopped against the cobblestone road.

Though it was early morning, and the sun was barely even awake, townsfolk were already bustling through the place. Kids were running around barefoot, doing chores or having fun, farmers were wheeling in their goods in squeaky carts, calling out for business, and shops were being opened.

Distantly, you could hear the crackle of a fire and smell the pungent scent of meat being cooked sweets being baked in the air, only making you drool at the thought of consuming something so tasty after eating home-grown vegetables for so long.

The village was dead silent at night but in the morning? It was warm and welcoming, filled with friendly, smiling faces and gossiping mothers as they hung clothes out to dry.

You swore you could even hear the light picking at an instrument and the barking of dogs far off on the other side of town.

Birds chirped happily in the sky, singing their age-old songs as they searched for someone to love.

It truly was a breath of fresh air, the friendly atmosphere far different than the much quieter one in the mountain.

You missed it.

You were convinced for a while the reason you stayed away so long was to quite literally teach a demon manners, but you were quick to regret your mistake upon reentering this world. The energy of the place stabbed at your heart, and your fingers itched with the desire to stay here for as long as possible. Perhaps even buy some bread while youre here. Heaven knows you need more ingredients, and with the jingle of the pouch you carried ringing in your ear with every step, you were reminded you could actually afford it for once.

Sure, cooking and chopping vegetables was alright, a fun pass time that brought you comfort and worth, but damn did you miss being lazy for a change.

Besides, you now had the manpower to carry quite a lot, right?

Speaking of, that same demon was currently hiding behind you, hands clutching at your kimono sleeve as his shy face barely peeked out from behind your head.

“Are.. you alright?” you asked hesitantly, worried that perhaps he was scared or something set off some sort of weird sixth scent.

“I-i’m okay..! T-there's just so many people around.. I’m.. a bit..” he trailed off, looking down at his feet once more.

“Shy.” you concluded, nodding your head in understanding.

This was the first time he would be around other humans besides yourself, so it made sense why he was a bit timid.

In all honesty, it just made him even cuter and less threatening, not that he ever truly was as you came to realize the more you got to know this fluffy boy.

That's not to say it didn't also fill you with a motherly need to protect him, or perhaps it was pride. Either way, your cheeks couldn't help but flush with him being so close, a reaction you still were trying to get used to, despite being up close and personal not ten minutes ago. Then again, that was on your terms, wasn’t it? This? This was certainly out of the blue. So it made sense.

Walking along, you waved to the occasional person, a plethora of “good morning!”’s and “I’m alright, how are you?” fleeing from your person with each minimal interaction. It was a blessing no one has yet to question who the mysterious stranger with dripping berry juice on his face was, but it certainly made a lot of people stop in their tracks and look your way.

How flustering… you thought to yourself as you pushed on, eventually grabbing Izuku’s wrist and pulling him along with you.

“The shop is just down here.” you told him, to which he nodded his head, far too shy to speak. Hell, you were sure he was close to chewing his own clothes from nerves at this point with that look of hesitation, fear, and child-like curiosity in his eyes.

It wasn't hard to miss the way his head whipped around, taking in the new environments with near open arms, visually studying each and every object he saw, but never asking a question about it, almost as if he was afraid speaking with glee and wonder would cause too much of a ruckus, attracting even more attention.

You had no doubts he would drown you in them once you got back home, or maybe even in a few minutes if something utterly mind-blowing caught his attention, but for now, you had to focus on gathering things.

You had eventually made it to the repair shop, full intentions on buying the wood needed to replace the frame, as well as a new window covering. It was old and damn near rotting off the wall anyway, it truly was needed.

Though it certainly was unusual to have such a thing in a bedroom where someone could easily break-in. But it was the mountains, so there wasn’t much to fear. After all, who in their right minds would wander a forest in the middle of the night just to break into a poor woman’s home?

Leaving Izuku to stay outside to collect himself as he shook like a leaf in the wind, you stepped inside the open shop, immediately greeted with the smell of freshly chopped wood and burning embers, a fire burning in the back no doubt. This was a supply shop for home repair, after all.

“Ah! Little Miss (L/N)! I haven't seen you in a while, my dear. Where have you been?” An elderly grandfather emerged from the back, hand pressed to the wall to lean against it. For his age, he was surprisingly in stable conditions, no doubt from the strenuous work he’d done all his life.

It was hard to forget that the elders here always had an eye open, so naturally, he would be the first to question your sudden disappearance when given a true chance. So far you’d only seen people your age and children out and about doing deeds for the older folk and earning their dinner.

Just as you were about to answer, you were cut off, “Oh? Who’s this?”

Not bothering to glance back, already knowing full well it was the curious Izuku who finally manage to swallow his anxieties and peak in, “He’s-”

“A ninja!” he exclaimed, jumping to your side excitedly as you huffed in irritation at being cut off two times in a row.

It certainly was odd that he spoke out so enthusiastically, considering he had been nothing but reluctant to speak the entire time you were in the village, but what was even more shocking was how he continued the plan of referring to him as a ninja.

A stupid plan you now came to realize, sounding out of place. You should’ve gone with a better idea and not have acted so cockily when you came up with it on the spot.

Oh, the familiar feeling of regret.

It was strange though, especially since you were sure he was against the idea in the first place, so why had he gone along with it?

Truly, you couldn't exactly care less. This was his mess now.

“A.. ninja.?” Furukawa, the old man, questioned, giving the both of you a perplexed look. “We haven't seen one around these parts since I was a but boy. What is a ninja doing here of all places? A meek little village like this?”

Oh. That’s right.

You had forgotten they didn't thrive out here in the country, but in the city and for generals leading wars.

What was a ninja doing out here indeed. Boy were you not bright when it came to thinking on the spot.

Leaning back and crossing your arms, you decided to let the excited demon explain for you, since you certainly hadn't a clue what to say.

“I’m here for no particular reason, sir! I had gotten lost in the mountains during that thunderstorm a few weeks back, and I just so happened to stumble upon the (L/N)’s home. I was lucky she was willing to take me in, for I had injured myself and needed time to heal. I truly owe her my life, for I doubt I would have been able to find a safe place to rest and recover that night if not for her generosity. I vowed to return the favor, and you know ninjas, never one to break a promise, and so I am here to help gather things to repair something I had broken. Though I’m sure we have bad rep around these parts nowadays, I assure you I have no intention of harming anyone. I vowed to protect the innocent, and that is what I will do! I’ll fight the evil of these lands with my own two-!”

You snapped him out of his rambling by gripping at his arm, surprised at how he had managed to come up with what to say so quickly. Hell, his eyes were even hardened with determination. He was very convincing.

It definitely made you suspicious of what his true intentions were, if he actually wanted to be a ninja of all things or if he was playing a part and not realizing the potential consequences.

Oh well?

What was even more surprising was how the old man wept, dramatically wiping his aged, teary eyes. “Oh, you good man! We need more men like you around here! My son is a lazy lump of bricks who won’t even help out around here”

“I am here now! Allow me to assist whenever!” Izuku stated righteously, fist raised high and mighty.

At this point, you were just a background character in some sort of weird show as these two practically danced around each other with declarations and tears.

Shaking your head, you quickly cut them off, needing to get things done today and not mess around any longer, “I was wondering if you had the material for a new window?”

“Oh! A window!��

“Yes.. I need a replacement for the one he had broken.”

“You youngsters are always breaking windows these days..” he complained, wiping at his brow before hobbling to the back again.”One moment please.”

Nodding, despite him not even seeing, you waited patiently in near awkward silence, teetering back and forth on your wooden heels.

“Did I uh..” the green-haired man's apprehensive whisper barely caught your ear, “did I go overboard, you think?”

That question was enough to bring giggles bubbling out over your throat, only for him to frantically wave his arms about in front of you, “I-i’m serious!”

Your giggles soon turned into laughs, only making his cheeks redden from embarrassment before he wrapped his arms around his head.

“Just,” you wheezed, “Just a bit, Midoriya.”

You weren’t used to being near people so passionate and enthusiastic about things, especially things made up. It was peculiar and yet it still brought a grin to your face.

Groaning, he looked off to the side, waiting patiently for the old man to return and to end his suffering as you continuously poked at his rosy cheek.

“I think you’d make a great ninja.” you whispered in his ear, breath tickling his skin and making baby hairs stand on end as you leaned over his crouched form, his hands resting on his knees as if to calm himself, unknowingly leaving him wide open for teases he deserved after what had happened the day before.

Gulping down the lump of nervousness in his throat, ridding himself of thoughts he shouldnt be having again, his head whipped back to look at you, eyes glimmering with excitement, “Ah, really?!”

You were unsure of how he would become one, but, “Yes.” you smiled gently, knowing full well already that he could do anything he set his mind to, a stubborn yet determined man he was.

“No kanoodlin in my shop!” Furukawa had suddenly appeared, damn near hitting the two of you upside the head with a stick.

You were quick to pay him for the materials, nearly tripping over yourself with giggles as Izuku looks nothing short of terrified with how the elderly man glared at him, no doubt piercing through his meek soul. Once you finished loading and securing the supplies in the shoulder bag, you grabbed two of his fingers before pulling him out of the shop with a friendly wave towards the grouchy old man who begrudgingly waved back.

A horse trotted in front of the both of you as you walked out, a loud wagon filled with hay creaking behind it as you continued on down the road in the opposite direction.

“That was.. nerve wracking..” Izuku sighed, one hand clutching the strap to the bag tightly whilst the other goes back to holding your sleeve, no longer cowering behind you as he openly gawks at the abundance of people strolling through the area, as well as eyeing up all the animals wandering about and making all sorts of noises.

“It was a pretty typical interaction to me,” you confessed, shrugging nonchalantly as he groans heavily.

“Are we heading back now?” he questioned, itching to beg you to let him stay if just for a bit longer. He was excited about being out like this, reading many stories revolving around normalities such as these. He had never experienced such a thing before, and it was thrilling, to say the least.

He felt as if he was on cloud nine, observing so many new things and being up close to other things he thought he would never get to see or touch, or, well, smell.

It was as if he himself was in one of the many books he’d read, skipping happily through each page as his wings twitched beneath the fabric with excitement, luckily covered up by the large sack of supplies.

He didn’t want to leave, but he would if you didn't like the idea of staying.

He could always come back with you another time, after all.

But damn did the prospect of going home at this moment dampen his cheery mood. Hell, he could even feel his wings pressed against him droop from inside the kimono at the prospect of doing so.

He was really hoping you wouldn't say yes.

He’d cross his fingers if he could.

“No.”

“Ah, well alright.. we can come back another time right?" It was as if he didn't hear you, too used to being put down and denied that happiness swelling inside his chest.

He continued to walk forward, head bowed down as he stared sadly at the rocks only to be yanked back as your hand slapped onto his wrist for the third time that day. He could get used to that if he was being honest.

He looked back at you, staring blankly as he tried to figure out why you had stopped and why you were giving him such a baffled look.

Had he done something wrong?

Said something wrong?

Or maybe his mere presence had annoyed you.

He hadn't the slightest clue, and he could only helplessly stare at you as he awaited a reason as to why you stopped, heartbeat hammering in his chest and fear squeezing his lungs, rendering him unable to speak.

You raised your eyebrow in question, and that's when it hit him like a rock.

You had said no, not yes!

Oh geez!

That sounds so backwards honestly!

“A-ah! I’m sorry! Oh, I thought y-you said yes!” he screeched, fumbling over his words and inwardly fighting himself at being so stupid.

He was about to go on and ramble out an apology, his nerves strangling him alive, but you had easily cut him off, “It’s alright, don’t worry about it, okay? We’re going to stay out and about for a bit longer. I wanted to show you some things, and get some ingredients if you don’t mind?"

Not that you would really give him the option to mind, besides- you knew that far off look in his eyes too well, it was the same look of wonder in your own eyes when you were a child.

It truly was endearing, you couldn't help but want to indulge in it for a bit, even if you were going to be doing other things anyway.

To hell with putting the window up this evening, perhaps the next. For now, you just wanted a break from having to train a demon by- well. Informing one instead.

“Really!” he exclaims, face immediately lighting up, dimples appearing on his cheeks as he smiled. He's suddenly jumping for joy, shoes making a loud clacking noise that catches the attention of village-folk once again, much to your introverted horror. “Y-you have places you want to show me!? O-oh gosh! Can we go see them now? Oh, there are so many things I want to see here! So many things I’ve read about!”

“Midoriya..” you called out to him hopelessly, wanting to calm him down.

“I want to see a bakery!! To- to smell the freshly baked bread and pastries! I can smell them right now,” he sniffed at the air, eyes slipping closed for a second, tongue poking out as he drooled, “they- they smell so good! I’ve always wondered how they mix ingredients together and fire them to make something so delicious.. How do they know what ingredients to use? How did they find those ingredients? I want to know! Do they memorize how to do it, you think??! And, and a blacksmiths shop! Swords are forged from fire, it sounds so magical, but there must be logic of some kind behind it! Logic I don’t quite understand yet but want to! I want to see it in action, know how they’re made in the first place. It’s from melting rocks right? Or, or metal?! How do they shape the swords? Which material and technique is best to use for the best result? Is that loud banging the making of swords right now? Or something else?”

“Midoriya…”

“Is there a library around here? No, no I guess there wouldn't be one here.. books? I want to know all about the culture of these lands, in more detail! I, I want to see how people's minds work, how they write their feelings or facts down on pages. You can learn a lot from a person based on how they tell a story, you know! Oh! And I also-!”

He excitedly jabbered on, drawing laughter and gleeful smiles from the people as they passed, only fueling to the heat on your cheeks as they whispered about the cute, excited man rambling on about different aspects of regular life. It was almost too much to understand or even comprehend, let alone answer all in one go. His words were flying over your head from how fast he was speaking.

And so, you simply stood there, off to the side of the road, wringing your hands together as you let him express his pure delight with an abundance of words.

He was a curious person like you’d thought to yourself before, that was for sure.

It got to the point where you were sure nearly five or so minutes had passed, and you didn't want to see how long this could go on for.

Because you knew it could go on for a long while, having been with him for a few weeks now.

It was a loveable habit of his, one that he always was quick to shut himself up for and apologize profusely, which always pulled at your heartstrings. He had clearly been put down in his past for being so wild, curious, and excited, and that was nothing short of saddening.

You didn't want him to feel like he couldn't talk, or ask questions, hell, even be enthusiastic like he always was. It brought a hint of sugar and spice to your plain life.

So, perhaps another time, but in front of a multitude of onlookers, ready to prod into your lives from how hard they were staring? Absolutely not, unfortunately.

Grabbing his sleeve, you yanked at his, successfully pulling him from his thoughts as his focus snapped over to where your hand was, “Huh?” he asked obliviously, turning to look at you with a tilted head but still cheery smile, green bangs brushing over his eyebrows, making you want nothing more than to sweep them away from his face.

Physical contact, as you learned, was always a better way to get him to focus rather than to snap him from his thoughts with words of your own. Words always made him flinch back and shut himself off, but soft touches somehow never did, keeping the same energy he started with even as he looked at you with wonder. It would often make you wonder why he flinched, or reacted in such a heartbreaking way whenever you’d cut him off with your own words, perhaps an untold story from his past waiting to be unraveled or kept under lock and key. Some things were best not to remember, after all.

Though he told you he was happy to be gone from the place he never truly considered home, you still held some minor doubts.

It was always the kind ones who smiled the brightest like a star in the sky that had the most to hide.

“Do you want to go and experience some of those things that you mentioned? I’m pretty hungry myself, so we could try a bakery right now if you would like? The one here is owned by a nice family, recipes passed down for generations. They got a pretty good grasp of things”

His brows quickly flew up, momentary shock flashing in his eyes before being covered by embarrassment, he had just now realized he rambled on. A momentary delay it seemed.

“S-sure.. eheh..” he chuckled nervously, hand squeezing the bags strap tightly once again as he used his other hand to wrap around his torso. He certainly was bashful for someone who was ‘bred from darkness’, if that red on his cheeks and how he avoided eye contact were anything to go by.

“Let’s go, then.” placing your hand on the much larger one glued to his side, you slowly peeled it away before gingerly holding it, ignoring the stuttered gibberish that trickled from his mouth at the action as you led him to the place that made saliva drip from his mouth.

At the end of the day, you were walking home on sore feet, arms clutching at a flimsy woven basket someone graciously gave you for free containing foods you needed to stock up on.

Izuku, on the other hand, was practically skipping, words flowing from his lips like a waterfall as he reviewed what he learned today, occasionally looking over at your tired form to make sure you were alright. He had offered multiple times to carry the basket, even going as far as trying to grab it, but you refused, wanting to do so yourself since he was now carrying a basket and a bag of his own.

Stubborn, ironically, was the way he described you with a pouty lip, and you had to agree.

It truly was a shame you weren't able to put the new window today, considering you wanted to sleep in your own room, but there was always tomorrow. For now? You were exhausted.

So much so you weren't even sure you could cook dinner.

Demons sure did have a lot of unrelenting energy. You were being dragged around all day, only leading a few times to the places you wished to show him- you didn't even get to show him everything due to his mind moving faster than either one of you could keep up.

Once making it back to the house, you managed to convince the energetic guy to at least continue wearing his hakama after he threw off his hat and the top of his kimono, successfully freeing his wings.

Things on the floor, he gets on his hands and knees, stretching his arms and back out like a cat, his wings flapping out like a birds as he flexed the poor things.

It was horrible how he had to stuff them in his clothing all day, and it truly did make you feel bad, knowing he must have held a form of discomfort all day, hiding it seamlessly.

Perhaps you could buy more clothes for him next time, or even fabric to weave together a kimono made solely for him.

That would take a long while, but it would be cute, right?

You didn't want him to be uncomfortable in his own home.

You stopped in your tracks as this thought crossed your mind, a perplexed expression making its way onto your tired face, when had you started referring to this house as his home as well?

Had you grown so accustomed to him already that when thinking of this place, or where he lives, this old house comes to mind?

Or did your loneliness fight your conscious to bring forth such a thought out of comfort?

For the first time in years, you weren't alone. You haven't thought much about it until this moment and in a tired state of mind no less.

It was confusing, especially considering you didn't even know when you had started picking up the habit.

Looking back at him, your mouth fell from its straight-lined self to that of awe, your eyes reflecting the same thing.

The golden rays of a honey sunset dripped in through the open door, illuminating the man covered in scars, freckles and tattoos from behind, kissing at his soft, smooth skin and wrapping him in a cocoon of ease and light as he sat there, bathing in the warmth it provided.

His eyes were closed, wings relaxed and hands resting on his thighs as he took the moment in, inhaling deeply as a breeze filtered in, making his curls sway ever so slightly in a mesmerizing way.

Despite what he was or what he used to be, only one word came to your mind as you gazed at hi, ‘angelic.’

You couldn't find it in yourself to be afraid, for all you saw at this moment was a smiling man happily enjoying himself after a long day of bouncing off the walls.

You couldn't stop staring, even if it was rude, his presence enrapturing in the sweetest of ways.

You felt your own body warming at the sight, an innocent blush dancing on your cheeks, only to deepen as his eyes fluttered open, scanning the room, just to fall on you.

His pupils were back to their familiar, snake-like state, but yet they held so much compassion and kindness as if they were just as human as yours were, despite being entirely different.

Neither of you said anything, just staring into each other’s eyes in a way that should've felt weird or awkward.

But nothing about this felt awkward, in fact, it felt natural.

Like you were meant to be entranced by those addicting pools of green, glimmering with the yellows bouncing off the walls just to show your own silhouette in them. It was like staring into a never-ending forest with vines that wanted nothing more than to wrap you in a secure hug, branches of trees filled with fresh leaves swaying in the calming wind behind you as the scent of salt from the creek not too far away made you relax in their embrace.

You weren't aware how long the both of you stared at each other, but one thing was for sure, neither of you minded it, his own smile and reassurance in his gaze is enough to wash away any concerns.

The sudden loud calling of a bird snapped you out of your trance, attention flickering to the door just to see two birds chatting with each other.

“(Y/N)?” he had called out, voice laced with concern but dripping with sugary sweetness and desperation that was all too much to handle after such an intense moment, despite it just being eye contact.

But then again, the eyes were the doorway to the soul, weren't they? And it felt like much more than just that.

Regardless, you turned, ignoring his calls as you rushed to your room, hurriedly closing the door just to slide down it.

Hand clutching at the fabric above your beating heart, you just now noticed how your breath was caught in your throat, and how your heart was hammering wildly.

You breathed heavily, running fingers through your wild hair as you fought to make sense of what just happened.

The truth was, you didn't know.

#izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #izuku x you #midoriya izuku x reader #deku x reader #bnha #izumonth collab #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academi #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha deku #x reader #izuku midoriya x you #midoriya x reader #midoriya x you

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catfe-overlord · 4 years

Text

“Feral”

Part 4

Read part 1 here

Read part 2 here

Read part 3 here

::in which Bakugou makes a mistake, Kirishima pays the price, but it all works out and the quirk is gone for good... right?::

+++++++++++++

Kirishima couldn’t help staring at the empty desk across the room. It was Monday, and Bakugou still hadn’t returned.

Over the weekend, Kirishima had periodically visited his best friend after meal times. That was when he seemed to be on his best behavior, but the quirk still sent him into frenzies at pretty random times. He’d been able to feel most of them coming. Most.

It appeared he was making some real progress. The claws, fangs and cat-like eyes hadn’t gone away yet, but he was acting more like himself each day, and the fits of rage grew less and less frequent. Until this morning, when Kirishima had decided to bring him breakfast.

Kirishima was already in his school uniform, having woken up a half hour early to go see the blond before class. He’d grabbed a protein bar on his way through the kitchen for himself, but for Bakugou he’d prepared a quick meal of home cooked eggs and vegetables. He was no chef like Bakugou, but after all the meals the blond had prepared for him, he figured he’d try to return the favor. He made sure to grab some of the spiciest seasonings and a bottle of sriracha sauce before heading out though.

Cementoss was the one stationed outside of Bakugou’s room today. He let Kirishima in without hassle, and Bakugou was simply lying on his bed, staring up at the white ceiling.

“Hey, hey, Katsuki!” he greeted him cheerily. Bakugou gave no response, no acknowledgement. “I’ve got breakfast, dude.”

It wasn’t until Kirishima was standing beside the cot and set the tray down on the bedside table with a small clink! that Bakugou stirred.

Before Kirishima could even register what was happening, Bakugou was on him, pinning him to the ground, claws at his throat. Kirishima hadn’t hardened fast enough, and he could feel the hot, sticky blood on the back of his head where it'd collided with the ground. The claws were already dug into the flesh of his neck. He struggled to get out a choked yelp in an attempt to alert Cementoss.

It must have worked, because the Pro Hero came bursting into the room. He surged forward and lifted Bakugou off of Kirishima like he was nothing more than a rabid puppy. Bakugou struggled against the hero’s grip, but he would’ve had better luck fighting a brick wall. Cementoss was sturdy and unyielding.

“Get out of here, Kirishima!” his teacher demanded of him.

Kirishima managed to climb to his feet and stumble out. He put pressure on his neck where it hurt worst, but blood almost immediately seeped through his fingers. He was horrified at how much poured down his arms after hardly a few moments. He could only stare at all the red that stained his shirt and sleeves.

“Kirishima?” asked Cementoss as he emerged from Bakugou’s room. “What are you still doing here? You need to get to Recovery Girl.”

Kirishima couldn’t seem to move. His feet were glued in place, his eyes trained through the window to stare at Bakugou as he curled in on himself. His entire frame was shaking, and he buried his face into his pillow to hide it.

“Kirishima, can you hear me?” Cementoss was asking, but the teenager wasn’t listening. His brain was too busy screaming at him to get back to Bakugou, to tell him it’s okay, to beg him not to cry.

He stepped up to the door, trying to pry it open but unable to without the keycard to grant him access inside. Cementoss put a hand on his shoulder, pulling him away from the door as gently as he could, but he had to use more force when Kirishima fought against his hold.

“Please! Please, I—fuck! Katsuki!”

Everything became a blur after that. He remembered Cementoss delivering him to Recovery Girl, who looked panicked at the sight of all the blood. She was quick to heal him and wrap up his wounds. She’d wrapped bandaging all around his neck and some around his head. She decided he had a mild concussion and needed four staples where he’d bashed his head open. Bakugou’s claws had gone deep enough into his throat to have cut his larynx, so she said to avoid speaking as much as possible at least for the rest of the day. After all said and done, she told him he wasn’t allowed to leave until he’d gotten some rest.

But he couldn’t sleep. He had so much going on in his mind, his brain wouldn’t allow such a foreign concept as sleep. After a couple hours she let him go, but she made it known she preferred he didn’t go back to school until tomorrow due to the concussion.

But he couldn’t just sit in his room and dwell on his thoughts. He knew the teachers wouldn’t let him back in to see Bakugou so soon, and he needed something to distract him. So he went back to the dorms and showered, changed into a fresh uniform, and headed to class.

Everyone was obviously surprised to see him, Aizawa included. Kirishima took notice of the way their eyes caught on the bandaging around his neck that peeked out of the collar of his uniform, but no one said anything as he made his way to his seat.

And he spent the whole hour staring at Bakugou’s empty seat, not a word of Aizawa’s lecture reaching his ears.

Once the bell eventually rang, signaling lunch, the Bakusquad was surrounding him faster than he could even close his textbook.

“Kiri, babe, I don’t want to sound like that person, but you look like shit,” Ashido offered. “What happened?”

“We heard you went to visit Bakugou this morning and he attacked you again,” Kaminari explained.

Sero’s expression was full of pity. “Yeah, man, are you seriously okay?”

Kirishima gave them an O-K, then signaled to his throat with a shake of his head. He grabbed his notebook and wrote out Can’t talk yet. Nicked my vocal chords.

Ashido looked horrified. “He tried to rip your throat out? Seriously?!”

“Dude, that’s so messed up.” Sero shook his head and folded his arms. “Even under a quirk, you’d think he’d have enough self control not to nearly slit his best friend’s throat.”

Kirishima choked. It hurt, but he couldn’t help it. Hot tears leaked down his cheeks, and he could only bury his face in his sleeve to keep his friends from seeing him crying. He felt so unmanly.

“K-Kirishima?” Kaminari gasped. “Whoa! Are you alright?”

“Shit, Kirishima, I’m sorry!” Sero apologized. “That was really insensitive of me to say. I’m sorry, man.”

“It’s okay,” he tried to say, but his voice was horrifically gravelly and much too quiet for anyone else to understand. On top of the pain his throat was in, he could feel a marble forming in it, threatening to choke him. He had to get himself under control.

Ashido pulled him into a hug then. The effect was almost immediate. He relaxed in her grip, leaning into her and turning his head into her shoulder.

“Kirishima,” came Aizawa’s voice then. The redhead turned to see his teacher standing a few rows of desks ahead of the group, hands in his pockets and face expressionless. “A word in private, please.”

Kirishima slumped. He was about to get chewed out. Ashido tightened her embrace reassuringly before slipping away. “We’ll wait for you in the hallway so we can head to lunch together.”

He nodded his thanks, and the group retreated. Aizawa sighed once the door was closed behind them. “I just spoke to Recovery Girl. You shouldn’t be here.”

Kirishima looked down at the floor. He wasn’t sure how to reply, considering he couldn’t verbally answer anyway.

“Listen,” Aizawa continued, lowering himself onto his haunches to be level with Kirishima, “I can’t say I know what you’re feeling right now. But I can tell you I know what Bakugou is feeling. I spoke with him this morning after the incident. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but he was taking it really hard. He was pretty devastated, actually. I’m sure he’d like to see you and know that you’re okay. Would you like to see him?”

Kirishima stared up at Aizawa with big eyes. He nodded vigorously, and Aizawa chuckled softly at that.

“Alright, kid. Not until after you’re fully healed though. Seeing you like this would only make him feel worse.”

He stood again, stretching his back and Kirishima heard a few quiet pops of his joints. He pointed to the door with his thumb as he folded his arms. “Get out. You’re excused from classes for the day. If you’d like, I can give you your homework now, but I want you resting. Don’t come to classes until tomorrow.”

Kirishima nodded. He’d take the leave of absence if it meant he could visit Bakugou again. He stuffed his books in his bag and headed for the door, giving Aizawa a nod of thanks before dipping out.

Ashido, Sero, and Kaminari were waiting for him like they’d promised, but they looked caught off guard by his sudden change in attitude.

“Whoa, uh, you okay, man?” Sero asked.

He gave a thumbs up and flashed one of his toothy smiles.

“What did Aizawa do to you?” Ashido questioned, a lop-sided smile growing on her lips.

Kaminari cocked his head. “Yeah, Aizawa isn’t the type of guy to strike me as ‘uplifting’. Usually people leave his presence feeling worse.”

Kirishima shook his head with a smile meant to put them at ease. He tried his best to signal he was heading back to the dorms, but he was sure he just looked like an idiot waving his arms around. When the others only scrunched their eyebrows, he just pointed in the direction of the dorms.

Ashido’s mouth formed an ‘O’ and she nodded her approval. “Get some rest, Kiri. We’ll stop by and visit later! ‘Kay?”

He gave another thumbs up, then waved goodbye as he sauntered off.

Once in his dorm and changed into jogging pants and a tee shirt, he truly did try to fall asleep, thinking maybe it would help time go by faster. He ended up just staring at the ceiling for two hours. He attempted to get some of the homework done, but without Bakugou’s usual help, he was hopeless.

Finally, he decided to head into the common area and crash on one of the sofas, playing some cheesy American action film on the TV. He snuggled up under a layer of blankets with a bowl of ice cream and watched as two burley men duked it out on the small screen.

He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew he was blinking awake at the sight of a few of his classmates above him.

“Hello, Kirishima,” said Yaoyorozu, a sheepish smile on her soft face. “Sorry to wake you. We wanted to make sure you were alright. We let you sleep for a while, but it’s dinner time.”

He wiped some drool off his chin. Ugh, how embarrassing. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes, then noticed Iida standing beside her with a tray in his hands.

“We thought you might be hungry,” Iida said with a kind smile. “Aizawa informed us you weren’t quite eating solid foods just yet, so we have some miso soup, and chocolate pudding for dessert.”

Yaoyorozu produced a small table from beneath her shirt and helped him prop it up over his lap. Iida set the tray down, and Kirishima felt his mouth water at the smell of the soup. His stomach growled almost comically loud. He winced, but the two only laughed.

“Glad to help, Kirishima,” Yaoyorozu smiled pleasantly. “Also, I made you some chamomile tea with honey. That’s always best for a sore throat.”

He grabbed the tea cup off his tray and took a small sip. It was delicious! It tasted just like his moms always made it whenever he was sick.

He cleared his throat and voiced a hoarse reply. “Thank you, guys.”

“No need to thank us,” said Iida. “Aspiring heroes should always be there for one another when they’re in need of a little help. Please, if you need anything, don’t be afraid to ask. Yaoyorozu and I would be pleased to help.”

He nodded his gratitude, and they left him to eat his meal in peace. The quiet didn’t last once his band of juveniles were passing through and saw him up and awake. Ashido squealed, and Sero and Kaminari were hot on her heels.

“Kiri, you’re up!” she squeaked, plopping down on the couch beside him. “Feeling better?”

“Much,” he answered. His voice was rough, like he’d just finished a long night of screaming at a heavy metal concert. He was just thankful to be able to speak at all and with almost no pain. At this rate, Aizawa might let him in to see Bakugou tonight!

“So, are you mad at Bakugou about what happened?” Sero asked then.

Kirishima shook his head. He didn’t want to strain his voice more than he had to.

“Good. I’d hate to see you guys stop being best friends over an accident that happened because of a quirk. And I’m really sorry about what I said earlier. It wasn’t true, and I know Bakugou would never hurt you on purpose.”

“It’s okay, Sero,” Kirishima said through a mouthful of pudding. “You were mad. I say things I don’t mean when I’m mad too.”

“How much longer do you think this quirk will last?” Kaminari asked. “I’m actually starting to miss all of Bakubro’s yelling and screaming. Especially his cooking.”

“What I wouldn’t give for a bowl of his curry right now,” Ashido said dreamily.

“I’m going to see if I can visit him again after dinner,” Kirishima explained, “but I need to see Recovery Girl first to get the OK.”

“Ooh! Please tell Baku we miss him.”

He laughed at her pouty lips and puppy dog eyes. “I’ll make sure he knows.”

The three chattered for a while about school and quirk training and all kinds of gossip as Kirishima finished his soup and listened in. He wished Bakugou was there more than ever. Sometimes when they hung out in the common room, he’d let Kirishima lean on him, and once even allowed the redhead to use his lap as a pillow. Kirishima was always a very touchy kind of guy—it was a part of his love language and how he showed affection. Bakugou would never admit he appreciated it too, but Kirishima could read him like an open book. Underneath his hard exterior, Bakugou was human like everyone else.

A little later into the evening, Recover Girl was happy to see his wounds had nearly healed over the course of the day, just little pink scars left that should disappear by morning and a scratchy throat that wasn’t giving him enough pain to bother him. She removed the staples in his head, checked his pupillary responses again, then planted another kiss on his forehead for good measure, but she said with Aizawa’s supervision she’d allow Kirishima to go see Bakugou tonight.

He just about ran all the way to the holding cells. Aizawa looked him over and must have deemed the teenager worthy, because with a sigh he swiped his keycard without saying a word.

Kirishima stepped into the room with a smile plastered to his face. After this morning and spending his whole day worrying about how Bakugou must be feeling, it was a massive weight off his chest to finally be here.

Bakugou was lying on his side in his bed overtop of the sheets. He had his back to Kirishima and didn’t make any efforts to look and see who it was entering his room. For a second, Kirishima wondered if he was sleeping.

“Katsuki,” he said, taking a couple steps forward.

That got him moving. He shot up and spun on Kirishima, shock clear across his face. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Kirishima shrugged. “I’m here to see my best bud. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Me? You wanted to make sure I’m okay? Are you a fucking moron?”

The redhead only took another step forward. “That had to be scary for you this morning.”

“Tch. Kirishima, I almost fucking killed you.”

“Eijirou.”

Bakugou glared at him. “What?”

“Call me Eijirou. This morning hasn’t changed anything.”

Bakugou clenched his fists tight enough that his knuckles were white. He bared his teeth, and it was in that moment Kirishima noticed two things.

“Your fangs are gone! And your claws!”

All the tension in his body seemed to drain at once. Bakugou blinked a few times, then held his open palms in front of him. He looked up at Kirishima, his eyes no longer slit like that of a cat’s.

“Your eyes too! Katsuki, I think the quirk has worn off!”

Bakugou stood, his expression sinking. His head drooped and he held his face in his hands. Kirishima surged forward when he noticed his shoulders begin to tremble.

He wrapped his arms around Bakugou, holding him close as he cried. Bakugou burrowed his face into the crook of Kirishima’s neck and returned the hug.

“What’s wrong, Katsuki?” Kirishima asked in a gentle voice. “I thought you would’ve been happy?”

“I am,” Bakugou answered with a choked sob. “I’m just—relieved.”

Kirishima traced soothing circles into his back. “It’s okay, man. Let it out.”

He took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry I’m so fucking weak.”

“What? You’re not weak. You’re the manliest guy I know, Katsuki. The bravest, strongest, most heroic man I’ve ever known.”

“I-I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

Kirishima shushed him. “It’s alright. You don’t have to be embarrassed. This is what friends are for.”

“Friends,” Bakugou echoed. There was a strange undertone in his voice that Kirishima couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“Best friends.”

Kirishima tightened his embrace, wishing Bakugou saw him as something a little bit more.

<><><><><><><><><>

Soooo hope y’all liked part 4 (and a big fat sorry for how long it took me to get the damn thing posted). I’ve started part 5 and should have it up ASAP bc I’m HELLA excited to get my one-shots posted.

Anywho, thanks for the read!! You guys are the best, and I really appreciate all the love you’ve given me and my writing💕

Read part 5 here

Read part 6 here

8/24/2020

#bakugou is hit by a quirk #katsuki bakugou #bakugou whump #bakugou angst #kirishima angst #kirishima eijirou #kirishima whump #bakugou x kirishima #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakusquad #whump #angst #fluff #kiribaku fluff #bakushima

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faerielleart · 3 years

Note

Your les mis!levihan stuff gives me life 😭😭😭 Any chance we can get some more headcanons??? 🖐️

ANON MY CHILD YOU’VE COME TO THE RIGHT PLACE also this is like . Probably really niche so forgive me oomfies for getting really specific about thIS

uhmmm let’s see, i’m trying to imagine the vets’ voices and associating them to the actual stage actors

for erwin i imagine him sounding a lot like either bradley jaden or daniel diges from the spanish adaptation, just a really really powerful voice that makes buildings shake ✨ and recently i’ve found out that john owen jones understudied enjolras back in 1997 and i’ve listened to the audio and i loVE IT so yeah lemme throw a bit of JOJ voice in there as well; and yeah since he’s got the range he’s totally going for the optional high note in “let others rise to take our place until the earth is FREEEE”. for his mannerisms i feel like he’d do his homework and he’d try to emulate book!enjolras more than the usual direction the show takes with this character. i imagine erwin’s fav moment in the play would be getting to “scold” marius-levi for being distracted by his love for hanji-cosette. like i just see him really exaggerating the “MARIUS YOU’RE NO LONGER A CHILD” in red and black during rehearsals and idk the thought gives me life lmaooo also in drink with me he’d totally go for a hug with mike who plays grantaire (erumike stans make some noise), as anton zetterholm used to do back in 2013/14 and in general would be really touchy with all the students on the barricade. he Loves the red and gold vest, absolutely hates the paris outfit. he is so tall and wearing the all black suit he feels like he looks like a penguin. also HATES being in the ensemble playing a convict during the prologue bc the fake dirt is really hard to wash off and he doesn’t want to stain the pristine white shirt he wears as enjolras

for levi it’s a bit harder to find a voice that suits him as the play tends to cast tenors for marius and levi is clearly a baritone in this au so i’m going with classic michael ball, who might be the marius with the deepest voice i’ve heard among all, with definitely less vibrato and definitely less less less less polished vocals as in my au dude has never taken singing lessons. i feel like he’d absolutely loathe having to sing “in my life/a heart full of love” at first bc come on can you imagine levi singing shit like “IN MY LIIIIFE SHE HAS BURST LIKE THE MUSIC OF ANGELS, THE LIGHT OF THE SUUUUN” SKDJDKSMSKAHSH but yk after spending more and more time with hanji mf actually starts to enjoy it 😳 but his favourite scene to play i guess would be drink with me, bc it gives him a weird sense of nostalgia and deja-vu that he really can’t explain to himself but it’s a pleasant feeling. would probably dread having to sing empty chairs at empty tables bc it’s nerve-wracking for him as it’s a bit out of his range and doesn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of the audience if he fails the high notes on “the very WOOORDS that they had sung BECAAAME their last communion” and “oh my friends my FRIEEENDS DON’T ASK MEEEE” but he’d emote really well nonetheless even with unpolished vocals good job bby we’re all proud of you!! also hanji totally helps him out with vocal exercises. refuses playing a convict in the ensemble and gets yelled at by the directors for it but there’s no way in hell he’s smearing fake dirt all over his body. he loves the paris suit tho makes him feel ✨classy✨. doesn’t roll up his sleeves at the barricade bc he feels like an idiot

for hanji WELL i see her voice being similar to katie hall, with a really giddy and carefree take on cosette and a strong tone that’s never screechy; compared to many cosettes i feel like katie has a much less soft voice and is actually really loud? as if playing christine in phantom of the opera (IF YOU CAN’T TELL KATIE IS MY FAV COSETTE AND MY FAV CHRISTINE so of course imma assign her to hanjo). cosette is a soprano role and i imagine hanji as a mezzo with an amazingly developed upper range and head voice (thank you @ hanji’s parents for all those classical singing lessons). also katie has a really nice belt and her fantine has me scream and cry so yeah that’s hanji’s voice in my head, just imagine it a lil bit deeper! hanji’s fav scene would probably be the wedding bc of the thenardiers acting goofy, and her fav song to sing would be a heart full of love just bc she gets to witness levi acting bashful while singing “cosette, i don’t know what to say” and she answers “then make no sound” with the biggest shit eating grin EVER and levi wants to say “stop making fun of me four eyes” SO BAD but he can’t bc he’d mess up the scene and they’d have to start again and he’s not sure he can handle staring lovingly into hanji’s eyes and holding hands and oops maybe at some point the whole “falling in love” thing stops being an act 🤡 what a clown he is,,,,,,, ALSO hanji probably loves being an ensemble member in the the lovely ladies scene as well bc of the bright exaggerated make up?? and all the dirt like she has so much fun in the dressing room smearing the paint all over her body and then putting on white powder and smudged red lipstick and bright red unblended blush. loves the combo corset + pants in the scene

also can i just say that the abc cafe is pretty much everyone’s fav scene bc they get away with teasing the shit out of levi without risking their lives lmao

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crazylittlethingy · 4 years

Text

He loves me (Part 3)

abusive!dabi x reader (eventually x hawks)

a/n: I’m focusing in the reader and hawks’ early friendship in this one, don’t worry, next part I’ll give you some dabi *wink wink*

Part 1 - Part 2

It had been three months since classes started and you forgot why you were so scared of high school. Yeah, UA was tough, with intense physical and intelectual activities, you got home tired most of the time and your already limited time with your parents grew even more limited and you found yourself arguing with them more often, if you are tired enough on that day. You’d usually apologize through movie nights on Sunday. In the beginning no one would say anything, but, as the movie goes on, comments would be made, songs would be sang and laughs would be laughed.

You could also feel yourself becoming stronger. You liked your quirk quite a lot, it would take you and Touya away from trouble when you were little, and, nowadays, it symbolized a ticket to a good hero agency. Before UA, you could only open one portal for about 20 to 30 seconds before feeling a splitting headache that would take you close to passing out. Three months into the course, after training hard in and out of school grounds on weekdays (because even you knew rest is needed to archive a goal), you were able to open one portal for a whole minute or two portals for 30 seconds and you also had a better idea on how to use them on a battleground, teleporting and punching someone, kicking, taking your allies out of the way. But the best thing about training was seeing Keigo in action.

It turns out he wasn’t that bad.

In the time you spent together you came to the conclusion that he’d always seemed to try and give you a reason to smile. It was true that he still was convinced of his “godlike appearance and personality” and knew way too many cheesy pickup lines for his own good, but they were funny and you were getting used to it all, it became a constant form of comfort and calmness in the middle of a growing pile of undone homework and assignments. And, besides, he was genuinely a good friend, listening to complains and to what you were currently obsessing with, showing himself to be an openminded learner, as you discovered when he, willingly, let you make him watch all 8 Harry Potter movies. He was definitely a Gryffindor in your eyes.

You also learned a lot about him. I mean, nothing related to his personal life apparently, but you knew that he loves fried chicken (even if it sounded a damn lot like cannibalism to you), how he twisted his pen around his fingers when he was concentrated in an assignment, how he’d bite his lip if he had a “brilliant” idea of a place to go or something to do on a Saturday afternoon, how he’d throw his head back and put a hand on his stomach if something was truly funny to him and how he’d roll his shoulders twice and turn his head a little to the left a moment before he took flight.

Oh and how beautiful he looked when he flied.

Keigo seemed fine in any space, a true social butterfly bird, but the only moment he was truly in his element was when he was in the sky. On the ground, he’d be smirking, confident of who he was, but as he cut through the air he didn’t have to worry about who he was or what his obligations were, he’d be free from anything and everything, and that made him smile, which, in turn, would make you smile. What a beautiful friendship am I right?

Thinking about all that made you sigh.

“Good morning, princess~” another day, the same cheesy nickname he gave you.

You rolled your eyes and buried your face in your arms, letting out a frustrated scream like thing.

“Woah I can’t see you in the weekend this one time and you already missed me this much?” You weren’t looking at him, but you could imagine his infuriating smirk as clear as the day outside the classroom you were siting in… very stifled… because the chair isn’t comfortable… at all.

“Because you are the only source of happiness in my life” how could you not exaggeratedly roll your eyes?

“I know” you still hated that smirk (and how good he looked) for the record.

Another frustrated groan. “My parents spent most of Saturday away because their boss had an emergency or something and, on Sunday, they let all their frustration on me through screaming contest, very pleasing to the neighbors let me tell yah. But I also watched this really good series on Netflix about a girl who just lost her dad and discovers she has a telepathic quirk in a world where no one has quirks”

“It sounds like a really sad reality”

You give a sad laugh and look at the window and what it’s beyond it. “It does.” And for a second there, when he’s quiet for longer than the usual 2 seconds, you turn around to face him and there is something in his eyes you can’t understand, for once you don’t see him smile or smirk.

“Well, worry not, my lady, for I, Takami Keigo, swear on your mother’s cake that I’ll never let you go through anything bad alone” he made this whole really exaggerated curtesy and the smirk was back. How could you not laugh and smile heartedly?

“Thank you so much, kind sire. But where were you this weekend? And why do you swear on my mother’s cake of all things?” You question, still smiling, in your most pompous voice, but you were also worried, Keigo never missed one of your Saturdays, it was the only day your parents allowed you to have friends around or to go around.

Even with his head bowed, you saw how his expression fell a little bit. “I had something to deal with.” He sounded serious, his voice lower than you ever heard. “And your mother’s cake is the best cake ever, so I can’t bear to lose it.” With that wink, his cheerful tone was back.

“Keigo-“ “Okay, everyone, I don’t want to hear anymore giggles, whispers, gossips and jokes whatsoever. Is time for class.” As the teacher entered the classroom, interrupting any and all conversations. Keigo sat down by your side. You spent a few seconds looking at him, as if the answer to his behavior would be found in his blond hair. When he turned and caught your eye, his eyebrows making their way up and down as if he was trying to be suggestive. You gave him the finger and he laughed, you felt your cheeks become warm and you turned to try and pay attention to your first (and very boring) class of the day.

Lunch time is the best and the worst. It was too noisy for your liking on some days, but sometimes you were part of that noise, like today.

“Shut up Keigo” you were laughing so loudly your belly was hurting. “I’m trying to eat!” “When I say funny things you look at me with murder in your eyes, but if I make a shitty pun you almost die of laughing?” He sounded bashful but he was smiling warmly, not that you noticed, as you were too busy trying not to cry out from the momentarily joy the pun brought you.

“Excuse me if I think your normal jokes are the real ‘shitty thing’, I do tend to enjoy puns more, they are witty” You said as you finally caught your breath and dived into the cafeteria food.

“Excuse you, I’m funny” you just rolled your eyes at that, something you do quite a lot, actually.

Things were usually like this, you two would be eating and telling some shitty jokes or puns, complaining about training and assignments and judging your colleagues decisions in life, such as dating the school resident jerk or eating broccoli when pizza sounded like a better option. Everyday, you’d be joined by a girl and a boy from your class. The girl was really outgoing and smart, you two became friends over ‘nerdy things’, as Keigo liked to call your obsession with Supernatural and Doctor Who. The boy, on the other hand, was under Keigo’s wing, he was shy and reserved but also smart (as everyone in the best high school of Japan seemed to be) and he’d often make some comments under his breath when he thought no one was listening. Now those were funny and made you make an effort to pay attention to him at all times so you can get that little glimpse of his true self.

“You won’t believe what I just heard” Naomi, the girl, came jumping around to the table. You liked to think she saw you as a good and trustworthy friend.

“How is it possible you already have gossips when people are still getting to know each other?” Ren, the boy, questioned quietly. Naomi didn’t seem to pay him attention, but you offered him a smile as if to say you thought the same. He turned almost as red as Keigo’s wings.

Even if you and Naomi were somewhat friends, she and Keigo had a gossip connection, knowing everything about everyone and their parents, so he was always the most excited when Naomi came jumping around the room, you’d take the time to stay in silence or making awkward conversation with Ren.

“Spill the tea girl” Keigo offered his best American accent, mimicking a slang he read somewhere. You were almost sure he ran a blog in one of those American’s websites to talk about celebrities life’s… or Endeavor, he liked that guy more than you think he should.

“Weeeeelllll do you know who Kanami is?” Naomi’s face made you remember the Cheshire Cat.

“Isn’t she the girl whose cousin dates the most popular guy in school” Keigo, in turn, made you think of a curious Alice arriving in Wonderland.

“Yep. Apparently she told her cousin Hiro had called the house they live in cancelling their date, which her cousin totally believed, and she, Kanami, went on the date instead saying her cousin was sick! Now, this was two weeks ago and the cousin found out and they were just fighting in the corridor, quirks and all!” Naomi made extravagant gestures while telling the facts.

“What! No way! Are they still there?” Keigo was getting up.

“No, sadly, the principal arrived there as we made our way here” Both teens now looked like a balloon that lost all air.

“It almost seems like you guys are disappointed no one died fighting over a guy” Ren’s observation came as silently as the summer breeze.

“Chicken Little over there eats his fellow chickens as lunch and you think he’d have sympathy for teenage girls fighting over their first ‘love’?” You replied as you cut your meat (or tofu or salad if you are vegetarian/vegan).

When the bell rang once again and you could feel the despair of all the students’ souls, Naomi’s voice came chirping again.

“Why don’t we go out after school today?”

“Yeah, sure, why not?”

Smiling like a fool just at the thought of spending the day with your friends, the rest of the day seemed promising.

Keigo’s laugh was probably heard a mile away from where you guys were. Naomi was telling some of her best embarrassing stories as a ‘get to know each other exercise’ because ‘there is still a lot you don’t know about each other’ and it was nice. I mean, you didn’t feel like telling your early teenage embarrassing moments, but the kid ones were ok, seeing your three friends laughing warmly made you feel like you belonged in that second, in that place, with those people. Last time you felt like that was before Touya disappeared.

Yet, here you were, able to be carefree, feeling the wind in your hair, under a cloudless sky, surrounded by people who wouldn’t leave you.

But you felt strange. The tip of your fingers felt a little numb and there was this shiver making its way down your spine. Someone was watching you. That thought made you stop and look around. And there you saw it, Hades’ flames all over again.

There is this thing about knowing someone since you were little: it doesn’t matter how long you are apart, it doesn’t matter if the friendship is over, if it was interrupted, there was always this ongoing familiarity in them, no matter how much both of you change.

He was just standing there, looking at you. Blue against (e/c). He was wearing a black windbreaker and black jeans, his hair the color of a corrupted soul, so different from the ruby red (and later snowy white) you were used to. He aged, obviously, his features more mature and you wondered how sharp his jawline would be, but nothing, not even the piercings he wore on his nose and lip, no hair dye, no amount of clothing or scars, nothing would make those flaming blue lights loose their intense gaze and color. (I mean, yeah, contacts would do it but he wasn’t wearing them okay?)

“(Y/n)? Are you alright?” Keigo’s voice startled you, making you look at him and realize he and the others were some feet ahead of you.

“Yeah, no, I’m fine, I just have something to deal with and then I’ll meet you guys at the mall.” You did your best to show your most convincing smile, yet Keigo still looked worried at you. “I really am fine Keigo, for this once I guarantee you don’t have to worry.” You spoke seriously and he seemed to trust you, he gave one look behind you and decided to keep going.

As you got closer to the not so strange stranger, you noticed how a half smile grew at each step you took. When you were close enough to see the daylight reflected in his eyes you spoke in a whisper, like the word alone would be able to make him vanish, like it’d break you all over again.

“Touya?”

“Not anymore, love.”

Part 4

Taglist:

@aly-insanity

@a-typical-antisocial-fangirl

@memekingofwwiii

@axerrri

@elizabeththe3third

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thesoundofnat · 5 years

Text

Still fixing all the cracks

ENDGAME SPOILERS AHEAD

Summary: When May reappears after the snap, it’s in front of a moving car. She survives, but needs to stay at the hospital for a while. Where else is Peter supposed to go but to stay with Pepper, Tony and Morgan?

A/N: I turned an angsty prompt from @insane-sociopath slightly less angsty by having May (and Tony!) survive. I hope you like it!

Warnings: Endgame spoilers, nightmares, hints at trauma and PTSD.

Words: 2 100

Tony had known May Parker had vanished after the first snap, and as awful as it sounded he’d been grateful for it. The pain he’d been feeling after Peter had turned to dust, disappeared right in front of him, had almost broken him. He couldn’t imagine how May would’ve felt, losing someone who was her own flesh and blood. If he was to lose Morgan now he was certain he’d go insane.

Not that his love for Peter was any less because of their lack of a blood relation. He would still kill and die for that kid.

Point was, he was grateful May hadn’t had to go through it. It hadn’t been fun.

“Mr Stark?”

Waking up at the hospital, a model of a prosthetic arm on a table across from him courtesy of Bruce, had been jarring. Partly due to the pain and the drugs, but he’d been so sure he was hallucinating Peter being back for the first couple of days that he’d hated his brain for doing that to him.

“How am I alive?” had been his first sentence. The second a demand to see Pepper and Morgan, even though Pepper had been sitting next to him, her trembling hand holding his own. Only something like this could’ve turned Tony Stark into a confused mess, Rhodey had joked, his eyes wet.

“Mr Stark?”

Tony’s body had barely been in any shape to keep his heart going. They all called him a miracle. A once in an existence type of survival.

“I did it for you, you know,” Tony had said to no one in particular, because truly it didn’t matter. It hadn’t mattered and it would never matter.

“I’m so mad at you,” Pepper had said one evening or morning or midafternoon (Tony hadn’t been keeping track). “You could’ve died.”

Tony had smiled, or at least had tried to smile. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“The worst part is that, if you hadn’t done it, you would’ve lived with that regret for the rest of your life.”

“I can’t seem to calm down, can I?”

Pepper had stroked his face. “I’m sure you’ll be calm now.”

“Mr Stark?”

“Hmm?”

Peter - the actual real life alive Peter - must’ve said his name at least three times before he’d realized. Tony focused his gaze on him; took in the tears streaming down his face. “Shit, Pete-”

“It’s nothing bad!” Peter said, sniffling, panicked, voice too loud in the quiet hospital room. “It’s just… well, Aunt May reappeared and-”

Shit, shit, shit.

“An accident and-”

How the hell could life take away the last blood relative that precious kid had?

“She’ll be out in a couple of weeks and-”

“Wait, hold on, back up.”

Apparently May had vanished into dust in the car and reappeared in front of another one, breaking several bones as Earth had welcomed her back. Typical. She’d be fine, but she was going into surgery and wouldn’t be able to leave the hospital for a while.

“I don’t know why I’m such a mess,” Peter said, still his rambly self, after everything.

Tony, only days into his new life post snap, blinked at him. It was, unfortunately, all he managed before the drugs knocked him out again.

When he woke Pepper had made a decision for all of them.

“He’s staying with us until his aunt is back on her feet,” she said. Tony didn’t protest. Why would he?

“I could just crash at Ned’s,” Peter said for the hundredth time, but Pepper shushed him. Tony could tell she’d handle teenage Morgan with no trouble.

By the time Tony got to go home, Peter had been staying there for two weeks already. May’s condition, though not entirely life threatening, had been worse than they’d thought. Peter tried to not let it show how worried he was, for some reason, but it was all but written on his face. Tony, weak and constantly exhausted, felt so helpless he nearly cried.

“I like him,” Morgan said, the two of them alone in Tony’s bedroom, just about avoiding spilling the juice of their melting popsicles onto the bed sheets.

“He’s nice, eh?”

“Very. He makes me laugh.”

“Ah, a comedian. Maybe I just never appreciated his weird gen Z humor.”

Morgan didn’t provide his to her strange remark with any response. Tony had to resist the urge to wrap her in his arms every other minute. As close as they were, he was sure she’d start getting annoyed at him eventually.

He had no idea how much she knew. How close he and the world had been to being entirely ruined. He prayed to god she had no clue, but she was smarter than any kid he’d met (and to be fair, than some adults as well).

If she knew, she hadn’t told him.

“What do you think about him staying with us?” Tony asked her, attempting to sound casual.

“I think it’s fun.”

“But do you miss it just being us?”

“A little,” she said, swallowing the last of her ice cream. “But it’s okay. I like him and he needs us. That’s what mommy said.”

“Mommy’s right, you know.”

“She says he’s like your son.”

Tony doubted Pepper had worded it like that, but he tilted his head anyway. “I care about him.”

“Why did he never come visit before?”

Crap.

“He was away, for a bit.” Tony smiled, ignoring the sudden rush of emotions. “I’m happy you finally got to meet him.”

“Mr Stark, you have a daughter.”

“Yes, Pete, we’ve established that.”

Morgan’s feeling toward Peter were nothing compared to Peter’s delight and utter surprise at Tony having put a child into the world (or well - Pepper). Every so often, usually after Tony and Morgan had interacted in any way, Peter would repeat these words. Tony wasn’t sure if he should be offended at the awed tone or not.

“How was it?”

“How was what?”

“When she was being born?”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure you’re asking the wrong parent here.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “I mean, how were you feeling?”

Tony shrugged. “I was a complete mess, to be honest. Crying and laughing and pacing all over the place. When I first got to see her-” He broke off, clearing his throat. “It was the best moment of my life.”

Peter’s smile could light up the whole goddamn world. “I wish I had been there.”

Tony reached for him, pulling him into a half-hug. “Me too, kid. Me too.”

“But I’m here now, and I’m gonna be the best- uh.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“What were you about to say?”

Peter had turned red. “I was gonna say big brother, but I felt like- well, I didn’t want to-”

“Of course you’re her big brother, you nerd.”

“Oh.”

Tony snorted. “Well, she did call you my son.”

“Did you correct her?”

“Nah.”

This time Peter’s beaming face was turned downward, bashful.

Tony ruffled his hair. “Come on. Let’s go make the queens of the house some dinner, shall we?”

The weeks of Peter’s stay had some dark moments, mostly consisting of Tony’s body not cooperating or Pepper’s heart breaking all over again if she remembered almost losing him or Tony thinking of the moment Peter turned to dust, over and over. It was sleepless nights and trips to the hospital for check ups and visits and all the while Peter feeling guilty for enjoying his stay when his aunt was alone in an empty room.

“You’re there about 90% of your days,” Tony told him. “She doesn’t expect you to do more. In fact, I think she’d kick both your ass and mine if I allowed you to sleep in those torture devices to chairs.”

Tony went to visit her without Peter at times, when he was in school. They didn’t say much because it wasn’t needed.

“I’m sorry you had to spend five years without him,” May said one day, her hand gripping Tony’s perpetually trembling one. The prosthetic one was steady.

“We fixed it,” he said, voice hoarse and slightly too quiet.

“I’m so glad you did.”

“We lost some along the way,” he added, his mind on Natasha, as it often was.

May gave his hand a squeeze. They didn’t speak again for a while.

Having a teenage superhero in the house meant helping them with - and forcing them to do - homework and making them promise to not be out to late and “no, Pete, Spider-Man isn’t needed tonight.” Maybe he was being hypocritical, but at least he could laugh at each look Pepper shot him whenever he reprimanded Peter for things he’d probably done himself.

It also meant running into him when they were both wandering the house in their sleepless states, both confused, both feeling too much with no relief in sight. Tony had been surprised seeing Peter the first night, but, despite his saying he had nothing to make him feel like this really because the snap hadn’t lasted five years for him, Tony couldn’t blame him.

“I’m sure it was traumatic in ways you can’t explain,” Tony said, remembering the hysteria just before he vanished. “And to be fair, the whole goddamn battle was a mess. I’d be worried if you weren’t having trouble sleeping, as much as I wish you didn’t.”

“Does it hurt a lot?” Peter asked then, eyes on Tony’s trembling arm.

“This? Nah. It’s just my body not being as strong anymore. It’s getting better.” Tony hadn’t told any of them of the times he’d entered his lab trying to create something only for him to scream in frustration and not go back in days. His prosthetic arm was working just fine, but the rest of him, parts he’d gotten so used to using whenever he built or tinkered around, were still recovering. That was what Tony said, at least. No one had promised him his old body back. He reckoned he couldn’t really expect them to lie so awfully to him.

“I’ve never been as scared as I was when I saw you sitting there, arm practically crumbling-” Peter cut himself off. “Sorry. Jesus. You probably don’t wanna hear about that.”

“No, no, it’s okay. Talk.”

“I can’t.”

Tony understood.

Some nights, Morgan found them, blinking up at them in the light of the kitchen, confused. “Daddy?”

“Hey, pumpkin, why aren’t you in bed?”

“Why aren’t you?”

And Peter would grin, whenever the tiny little four year old would be smart with her genius father. Tony’s heart was never as full as it was in those moments.

And then, it was over. May, recovered, got to go home and bring Peter with her. They all knew it had been coming.

“You’re sad, aren’t you?” Pepper said the first night without him.

Tony nodded. “A bit. It’s silly.”

“It’s not.”

“Maybe not.”

“You can visit him this time, you know.”

Tony laughed, so loudly he must’ve startled Morgan, wherever she was in the house. “I know.”

“I’m gonna miss having him in the house,” Pepper said. “It wasn’t the same being in the Tower or the Compound. People feel so much closer here.”

“It’s because this is a normal house, which apparently is what normal people live in.”

Pepper laughed. “Domesticity suits you.”

“I try.”

“I know.”

She always did.

“How are you?” Peter asked a couple of weeks later. They hadn’t seen each other since he’d gone back home.

“Me? Doing better. How’s May?”

“She’s doing much better.”

“And how are you?”

Peter didn’t reply immediately, eyes finding the street they were walking next to. “I’m doing all right, mostly.”

“Ah.”

“No new nightmares.”

“But old ones?”

“Always the same ones.”

“I know the feeling.”

If Tony could take all of Peter’s pain and trauma, he would, but he knew that wasn’t possible, so he did the next best thing.

“Let’s grab some ice cream. I think that daughter of mine has made me addicted to that stuff.”

Peter laughed. “I miss her.”

“Well, then I think it’s about time you come visit her, hm?”

“Just say when and I’ll be there.”

“No need. You can show up whenever you want, as long as it isn’t in the middle of the night. Unless it’s an emergency, of course.”

“You say that now, but I bet you’ll raise an eyebrow at me when I walk in on your date with Pepper.”

“As if we won’t have enlisted you to babysit Morgan to begin with.”

“Happy won’t be happy. Hah, that was unintentional.”

“Happy will have to learn to share his duties.”

They were gonna be okay.

#tony stark #peter parker #tony and peter #iron dad and spider son #post endgame fix it fic #post endgame #fix it fic #pepperony #avengers fic #mine #nat writes #endgame #still fixing all the cracks #iron fam

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bngtnblues · 6 years

Text

the sweetheart conflict

genre: non-idol!AU + romance

author’s note: a really unprepared scenario which i’ve been meaning to make into a series but i’m way too lazy atm! i’ve tried my best to edit but it’s 3am and i’ve given up and its been way too long since I’ve last posted anything, ugh! starting to randomly dedicate to my followers so here’s it you @moonseff because your bp fics give me life!all the credits go to @softjeon for creating the perfect gif for this story!! hope all of you enjoy this piece and feedback is very well appreciated so like? comment? reblog? :3

pairing: kim taehyung x reader & jeon jungkook x reader | a scenario (?)

blurb: Once a year, love and all its expressions are openly welcomed with crimson roses and sugary kisses. And for once, you aren’t the one sitting near the sidelines, hopelessly watching with a tub of ice-cream because this year, you actually have a valentine. But no one warned you about his older brother.

word count: 4.4k

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The moment you step into the classroom, your suppress a gag but your dainty heart wrenches at the sight.

Lacy smooches and saccharine-covered hugs decorate your field of vision as boys and girls envelop each other with affection. Even the day before Valentine’s Day, you still have to watch a numerous amount of hormonal tounges twisting around each other and agonizing attempts of sweet-talking for the sole excuse of “but tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day.” Teachers succumb as long as no scandals appear in the local newspaper because ever since the beginning of February, the flavour of love and its many representations have been shoved into your face in the form of a box full of diabetes-sprinkled chocolates.

Despite your overlying grimace about the celebrated day, you sometimes yearned for what others had but every year, on the miserable fourteenth, you would find yourself on your couch alone, with a tub of ice-cream in one hand and a pile of scrunched up tissues in the other, watching anything and everything. It became a nameless, appeasing tradition since the start of high school but since this morning, your chest envied and your mind whined at the thought, once again, ending up alone for Valentine’s Day, especially for your senior year.

In annoyed, lurching movements, you pull out your English textbook, throwing it onto the plastic table, and for karma’s sake, it skids onto the floor. You let out an unattractive groan, not bothering any of your peers, closing your eyes to regain your composure. You feel the tremors of the book being placed in front of you and someone moving into the seat beside you on the adjoined table. Your eyes open to meet those of Jeon Jungkook and you couldn’t help but give him a small smile.

If someone described Jungkook in a sentence, it would be “that boy’s going somewhere golden.” He’s someone who is noticeably popular due to his achievements in academics and on the field and despite all of this, the boy also has the modesty of a saint, always giving mere commoners like yourself a “hello” or a bashful smile whenever you cross each other’s parts unlike most of the douchebags in your school.

Jungkook shyly smiles at you, “Hey, Y/N.” Not to mention Jeon Jungkook is beyond the world cute is. With his large doe eyes and his bunny-like beam but then his figure is carved of well-defined muscles and pulping veins, when you put the two and two together, it’s totally psychedelic to your eyes.

“Hey, Jungkook,” you reply, as you pull out the homework and hear an “oh, shit” from Jungkook. He adorably stumbles on his words from forming timid “can I” and “um’s” till you wordlessly slide the piece of paper to his side, shooting him a grin. You inwardly sigh as he beams his bunny beam before swiftly rushing to copy down your answers.

When the teacher arrives and calls out for attention, disrupting the love nest within your class, she scowls before saying, “The experiment you will be doing today is in preparation for tomorrow’s half-credit assignment. So, for the love of god, please handle the chemicals with caution and if you happen to burn yourself, immediately head over to the sink. I don’t want to risk my job...again.”

Fifteen minutes into the experiment, your hand appears with a bursting red mark across your palm. When you thought your teacher’s dislike towards the class was almost overbearing, glancing at his expression directed at you definitely confirmed any suspicion. Curses flew out from your mouth like a flock of birds, gaining enough spotlight for you to be hunched over the sink with a repeatedly apologizing Jungkook by your side. When the cold stream of water hits your hand, you nearly cry from the relief as the pain subsides like honey glazing over a slice of bread.

“I’msosorry, Y/N,” Jungkook rapidly says, who looks like he’s on the verge of tears in contrast to your tears of comfort. “I should have been watching--”

You cut him off with a soft smile, “I’m alright, Kook-ah. I was the one who mistook the chemical for water. It’s not your fault so stop apologizing.”

“But I could have been--”

“I will literally pour water on you if I hear another apology from you.”

He lets out a small laugh and you turn your attention to your hand, blowing air onto it with a whoosh. You feel a throb punch onto your head and your hand slipping before, out of nowhere, fingers delicately wrap your wrist to hold its position under the flowing water.

“Here,” Jungkook mumbles, avoiding your eye, but you gratefully accept his help. “I’ll-- uhm--hold it for you.”

“If I wasn’t in this state, I would have given you a hug,” you try to warmly smile at him and he returns it with one of his own.

“I wouldn’t mind,” he mutters under his breath, turning his focus towards your hand, and you squint at him.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“N-Nothing,” he shakes his head, onyx strands brushing from his eye as you curiously blink at him. While the rest of the class continues with their miserable teacher, you form small talk with Jungkook, as well as the addition of some awkward silences, before you ask him,

“So, Valentine’s Day is tomorrow,” you look at Jungkook, priorly humming a candied tune to himself when he could have returned back to his seat a minute ago, but you don’t mind. You smirk at him, saying, “Got a hot date?”

Instantly, he stops and looks at you with a disconcerted gaze, “Y-Yeah, I mean, no, uh, not yet.” He clears his throat, hesitantly asking, “Do you?”

You nearly laugh at his question, rolling your eyes with exaggeration, “Oh, totally.”

He jerks up at your answer, a surprised yet indefinite expression on his; as if he was disappointed.

“You do?”

“Oh, god, no. I’ll probably have a date with my couch and daytime television or, be the third wheel to my best friend and his boyfriend,” you chuckle before sighing, scrunching your lips into a pout.

“Ah, well, that’s good,” he laughs a small, husky laugh before noticing his slip-up as you raise your eyebrows at him in a mockingly offended manner. His eyes widen before stuttering out, “I-I didn’t mean it like that. What I meant to say was--”

You giggle at his response, “It’s fine, Jungkook. I’m used to it for decades by now.” You gently remove his fingers from your wrist and turn off the tap with your non-injured hand. Grabbing the ointment and plasters from your side, thankfully retrieved by Jungkook, you start to work on the burn, which has significantly reduced for the present time.

Jungkook awkwardly clears his throat, “I’m actually hoping to ask someone.” His answer piques your interest, considering how you’ve never, really, been in a conversation like this before with Jungkook. His open answer is left on the end of the thread as if he’s expecting you to respond.

“Really? Who?” you breezily say, still engrossed in slathering on the alleviating ointment like there’s no tomorrow.

“You,” Jungkook immediately replies, clearing his throat again. You flinch at his answer, accidentally adding too much pressure to your injured palm causing Jungkook to hurriedly return to your side with a concerned look. You owlishly blinked at him, confused if you heard something else entirely different.

“What?”

He halts his actions, instantly shoving a hand down his jean’s pockets and avoiding any sort of eye contact to rather be fixated on your hand. He fumbled with his other hand to rub the nape of his neck while saying,

“I, uh-- want to go out with you on, um, Valentine’s Day. If that’s alright with you, I mean? If it isn’t, that’s completely fine--”

“S-Sure,” you stutter at the flustered boy with the killer body and smile, who’s actually making you stutter like a little schoolgirl. He looks up at you, face happily grinning and now you’re not sure. Your head’s screaming one thing and your heart’s shouting another and generally speaking, you're supposed to be happy that couch isn’t your hot date for once and it’s with an actual living human, who happens to be more than ideal. Then why do you feel anything but sure?

❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊

The blonde-haired boy, named Park Jimin, is currently poking your cheek with a carrot stick and normally, you would have tried to slap it away but right now, you don’t even have the stimulus to make him stop. “What’s wrong with you?” Jimin probes, eyeing you curiously, and you look at him to meet his quizzical gaze.

“Nothing,” you mutter with an unfocused gaze at bandaged palm. Your recollection of what happened mere hours ago seems to be imprinted onto your mind’s archive and you can’t help but wonder if you wanted to delete them or replay them.

“A lie!” Jimin gasps satirically and turns to the stony-faced boy, burrowing his face into his folded arms to desperately achieve some rest. Min Yoongi looks up with a scowl and grumbles,

“Let me get some sleep, goddammit.”

“No, but seriously, what happened?” Jimin ignores his boyfriend’s complaints, choosing to pry more into your dejected stature and you are so close to throwing your half-eaten food at their faces because you’re trying to understand everything. Or not to understand anything. You keep on repeating the mantra in your head on how this is what you’ve desired for years. But it doesn’t feel right. Why doesn’t it feel right?

“What doesn’t feel right? Do you want me to get more ointment for the burn, ” Jimin inquires, narrowing his eyes and you duck your head down before clearing your throat,

“Uh, no,” you mumble into your jacket’s sleeve, eyes downcast, “I have a date with Jeon Jungkook.” Jimin glances at you with confusion and leans closer as Yoongi decides to join in, ears perking with interested attention.

“Repeat that again?” Yoongi speaks and you groan, back straightening up on the lunch seat.

“I got asked out by, um, Jungkook. On, uh, Valentine’s Day.”

Without delay, Jimin squeals (a sound which should not be heard from a grown man) to gather enough attention from neighbouring tables, and starts to squeeze your blushing cheeks together. “Oh, finally, Y/N! You’re finally growing up! I’m so proud of you!”

Yoongi blinks at his boyfriend before turning his eyes back to his best friend, “Well, what did you say?”

It took some seconds to remove Jimin’s firm yet enthusiastic hold on your cheeks, in turn, to see him clinging to your side with glee. You wet your lips with uncertainty, mind reeling back and forth. “Yes?”

Yoongi reclines into his chair, lips curled into a smirk, “Congratulations. You’ve landed yourself the top of the pick.”

“I didn’t win anything and you’re objectifying him, Yoongi,” you scowl at the shrugging mint-haired boy.

“And?” Yoongi mindlessly yawns, plopping lazily a bunch of raisins into his mouth. Sighing, you start to dramatically whine, “I’m fucked, Yoongi. How the hell do you go on dates? How the hell do I go on dates?”

“Please, don’t cry me a river in this public environment,” Yoongi scowls, stretching his arms behind his head and in the process, knocking down a carton of chocolate milk all over Jimin’s lunch.

“Babe,” the shorter of the two screeches, seething daggers at his boyfriend, “That was the last pork bun!”

“Calm your panties, I’ll buy you another one after school.”

The once petulant boy immediately brightens at Yoongi’s comment and wistfully adds, “But you love me in panties too.”

You scrunch your face up with revolt, Yoongi’s chokes on his chocolate milk, and Jimin playfully strokes his boyfriend's shoulder while purely letting out small giggles.

❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊

It’s officially Valentine’s Day, and as from now, your head’s in a whirlwind of tips and turns, racing around to find your shoes and the subtle appearance of a pack of peppermints for safety measures. With your parents out of town for their romantic rendezvous, the silence you once yearned for started to slice into your sanity about anything that could possibly go wrong on this date. Not even a call from your Jimin has helped settle your nerves, so you opt for wasting your adrenaline by finding the perfect shoes to wear with your outfit.

When a knock resonates on your front door, you nearly jump at the sound, and after taking a long breath into steady your head, you grab your purse and a box of chocolates and your feet swivel to open the door. You’re met with a flustered Jungkook and a bouquet full of pink and red, eyes roaming around before landing on yours.

“Well, what are you doing here?” You say, biting your lips to hide a smile.

Jungkook stands back a little, eyes widening and mouth forming an ‘o’ shape before stuttering out, “I-I thought we were -- the date --”

“I was joking. Of course, I knew you were coming,” you hurridly speak, all effort of remaining composed disappearing. Jungkook relaxes and gives you a timid smile as he hands you the bouquet,

“Sorry, just a bit nervous,” he tells you and you withhold gushing over his simple action, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Y/N.”

“You didn’t have to but thank you, Jungkook,” you genuinely reply, fingers brushing against the delicate petals of the rose and your mind wandering off to the delicacies you’re holding in one hand, which hopefully haven’t melted after you bought them yesterday. With the small gift exchange paired with blushy cheeks and shy murmurs, you’re now in Jungkook’s car, driving off to wherever the date was supposed to be.

“Jungkook, where exactly are we going?” You say as your eyes float across the unfamiliar scenery, “You’re not going to like, mutilate me in the woods, or something?”

“Sounds like too much work,” he responds nonchalantly with his eyes on the vacant road before a small smirk graces his face. You mirror his action with a grin because finally, the boy has relaxed. The Jungkook sitting beside you, knuckles no longer compressed firmly onto the steering wheel nor the awkward glimpses at you from time to time, has finally started to breathe easily. His humour and his actions are definitely not what you expected but it’s a good thing, you decide offhandedly.

“Wanna know something?” Jungkook asks, fingers drumming on the wheel in sync with the beat of the song humming from the radio.

“I don’t know. Do I?”

He cracks a smile and looks over at your expectant gaze, and noticing how you’re carefully anticipating his answer, he suddenly looks sheepish as he clears his throat to form the ideal words to be flown out into the cool air, enough to not be turned to dust.

“I’ve liked you for a while,” Jungkook finally blurts out and you stare at him.

“Like, two days, a while?”

“No. Like, two years, a while.”

You start coughing, more like wheezing from his response. Jungkook immediately pulls over to the curb and reaches over to pat your hunched back. Your mind keeps on rerunning stills and flickers of your burned hand and out of nowhere, the scent of charred flesh wanders into your nostrils and you pray for the restraint to not vomit. “What?” You finally heave out, hand accepting the wad of tissue Jungkook miraculously retrieved out of thin air.

“I-I mean,”Jungkook stutters over his words and as you continue to cough into the tissue, you now realize how grimly intimidating your manner was to the struggling boy. “Whenever I have a class with you... it makes my whole day better.” Your eyebrows rise with flabbergast and your head scampers to understand everything that’s happening in the black sedan. Jungkook continues after a moment’s hesitation, “It’s just, whenever I’m with you, this whole pressure of doing well in high school, I don’t know, eases away. Whenever I see you across the cafeteria, you’re always laughing or frowning and giving no fucks for the world -- which is a good thing, of course. Yet, you see people beyond, whoever they may be and -- it’s just nice, that’s all.”

Your body envelops in warmth at his words, of how intricately and carefully he put them together. It means he actually paid attention to you besides your only two guy friends, who happened to be gay. You open your mouth to form some intelligible words but that fails.

“Okay. Wow. Um, wow.”

He looks at you waveringly, “God, that was too much. Sorry, I wasn’t planning to confess... all of this straight away. My brother couldn’t stop talking on about how it’ll be too late... or something. Now it feels all pretentious and I’ve, probably, scared you off from ever being my girlfriend. Goddamnit--”

“You haven’t scared me off,” your mouth instantly responds to his rambling. It’s true with confirmation how your heart misses a beat or two when he blinks at you, a wide grin knocking your subconscious away from any nerve-wracking thought.

“So does that mean...”

“I’ll be your girlfriend, Jeon Jungkook.”

“Okay, um, cool. Yeah, that’s cool.”

You laugh because Jungkook is cute. And now, he’s smiling that smile and he’s not cute, he’s gorgeous. You decide, maybe it’s time to let go of your inhibitions.

What could possibly go wrong?

❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊

When your mother had heard about you getting a boyfriend, first she snorted and nearly dropped the laundry basket on her foot, then she noticed how serious your expression was, which had resulted in a combination of apologies and overwhelming squealing and blessings you had definitely did not anticipate. A part of you was offended by your mother’s disbelief while the other couldn't fathom the foreign concept as well.

“I can’t believe this! Yoongi, can you believe this? She’s not going to end up alone.” And when you called Jimin in a rendezvoused phone call, of course, his flair for the dramatics went berserk to the point of dropping the receiver on his boyfriend’s toe. You were certain your best friend was more excited about your boyfriend than yourself, which you perceived as the last thing you should be feeling.

But after a series of cafe dates and many confirmations that, “yes, I am dating Jeon Jungkook and he is dating me,” exactly three weeks of being Jungkook’s girlfriend, he proposed the idea of meeting his family one dewy afternoon. You couldn’t lie; the possibility of meeting his family - in his words, who are dysfunctionally warm, is downright daunting, especially as it’s your first relationship. So, the last thing you needed was a major screw up from your part. That’s why you’re on the phone with Jimin, precisely fifteen minutes before Jungkook’s supposed to pick, crouched on the concrete footsteps leading up to your house, safely secluded from your mother’s interference.

“I am this close to having a panic attack, Jiminie. What the hell am I doing? What if they ask me what I want to do with my life? I haven’t even started applying to any universities yet,” you wail through the phone, fingers weakly intertwined in your hair.

“Woman, you need to calm down,” Yoongi’s voice speaks up from somewhere in Jimin’s background as you narrow your eyes.

“Yoongi?” you breathe out. “Jimin, you there?”

“I’m here, I’m here. Just take a moment and compose yourself. Don’t talk too much, and you know what I mean by this, and answer questions after you’ve thought about them carefully-”

“And don’t crack any sexual innuendos whatsoever.” Yoongi pops in. “When Jimin met Mom and Dad, he found it appropriate to crack some very inappropriate puns.”

You wince at the scenario, nodding along even though you couldn’t see her. “But, wait, what if I do it by acc--” And then Jungkook’s car spurs into the driveway and you can’t help the sting of curses flow out of your mouth.

“Just remember to breathe and to not gorge on anything edible like you do when you get nervous.” You can hear assurance bounce off from Jimin’s voice.

“M’kay. Thanks, you guys.”

“You’ll charm their pants off, Y/N. And I’m sure Jungkook’s pants are already off,” Jimin says and you start to smile at Jungkook when he steps out from the car.

“He’s here. Bye.” Turning off the phone, your arms prepare to envelope Jungook in a hug but in the misfortune, he leans in to ready for a smooch on your cheek. In the awkward exchange, somehow, both of you agree to a handshake before it ended up in amusement.

He opens the passenger door for you, something you have noticed he has always done and closes it before moving to the driver's seat. “Was that Jimin you were talking to on the phone?”

“Yeah, how do you know? Tapped my phone or something?” You nudge him playfully, and he instantly shakes his head as if he’s found to be framed for murder.

“No, no, no. I’ve seen you hang out with him a lot,” he sheepishly smiles, fingers tapping to an unnoted beat. Something you also noticed he does so often.

“He’s my best friend. Smaller than a dwarf but has a heart the size of the sun.”

“Better get into his good books, then,” he declares to himself and you laugh.

“You already are so don’t worry.”

“I think his boyfriend plays for the school’s basketball team. Wicked with the ball.”

“Has a wicked heart too,” you sigh jokingly and he laughs.

Though you act with comfort, your heart is trembling with your fingers, scared your ribcage will start jolting whenever the car goes over a speed bump. Once again, you wipe your sweating palms over the expanse of your jeans, but the rough material does no justice to the circumstances. Jungkook notices this as his eyebrows rise and his lips slightly curl. “Relax, my family’s harmless,” he says and you exhale out a tense chuckle.

“I'm scared either way. First time for anything is always terrifying,” you point out, blinking rapidly. You search for something to consume your attention for the time being and choose the cluster of cassette tapes threatening to spill out from a compartment. “These are rad,” you say. Jungkook glances at you before smiling slightly and looking forward to the ascending road.

“My brother’s influence. He never listens to the radio because of their ‘conventional taste in art’.”

“Oh, how many brothers do you have?” You ask just to prevail the sake of a conversation. The thought of silence will probably make you faint in this ridiculous state.

“Only one. An older one.”

“Any sisters?”

“Just two. They’re twins. One’s going through an emo phase and the other’s in the hipster phase,” Jungkook smirks. “Anything to do with thrift stores, organic coffee, and deep poetry will get them out of their rooms. Don’t let them intimidate you; they’re really just scared of themselves; of the world that awaits all of us, I guess.”

You watch him as he speaks, and the fondness he expresses when mentioning his family goes recognisable. The car pulls into a driveway, and a house comes into your view as the headlights bounce off the garage door. Only after the boy gets out, you follow, and after a moment of fumbling with your guise, you look up to see Jungkook’s pleasant brown eye on yours, and he puts out his hand for you to take. He doesn’t show any chagrin over just how sweaty yours are, and your heart settles down for a moment. This is going to be alright.

His empty hand reaches for a set of keys into his jacket’s pocket but the door swings open unexpectedly, startling the two of you as it was ready for your presence.

“There you are, Kook-ah,” a soft-faced woman with ridiculously dark hair smiles at Jungkook from where she stands behind the threshold before her eyes dart over to you. Her eyes, almost as dark as Jungkook’s, warmly gleams at you.

“You must be Y/N. Come in, come in.”

You return a smile as charmingly as you can and raise your hand in a tiny wave. Jungkook looks back at you with an abashed expression, and steps in, pulling you with him. You could feel his mother’s stare as you two walks into an illume lounge, where the local news faintly mummers in the television. Just as she opens her mouth, another man strolls into the room. You figured he looked the right age to be your boyfriend’s father but holds no resemblance to Jungkook. A different nose, a different smile-- nothing like the bunny smile you’re oh so familiar with -- and his eyes are closer to the colour of hazel than the regular dark brown. When he sees you, a slow but gentle smile spreads across his face.

“Oh, hello,” he says, grin still unscathed. “Are you the Y/N?”

“Uh, yessir,” you reply awkwardly, mind inquiring from all this attention.

He studies your face for a second before nodding. “Well, only good things have been said about you.”

You raise your eyebrows willfully as you turn to see a flushing Jungkook, who’s hand pulses along yours. He rolls his eyes and you smirk smugly. “He talks about me, does he?”

“All the damn time,” this time another voices pipes in behind you; a very deep-seated voice as matter of fact. You swivel around to lock eyes with a pair of very pale brown ones. You let out a stiff breath when you catch the sight of the boy in front of you. He must be Jungkook’s older brother. Sharing some set of similarities, there were always a striking number of differences. Ash grey hair lit up by the hanging bulbs, slightly taller with a narrower face, but those eyes.

“Y/N,” Jungkook speaks with a sigh, yet he speaks with a small smile. “Meet my brother, Taehyung. Tae, meet Y/N.”

“Hey,” the older brother nods at you before snatching an apple from the standard bowl on the coffee table, barely missing his mother's hand aimed at his wrist. All you could manage to do was a slight nod in response. A hazy trace of a smirk kissed his rosy lips as if he’s completely aware of the strange reaction his face has on you. Oh, he definitely does, seeing as his brows rise pointedly at your undoubtedly reddening face.

“Hi,” you mutter, flickering your eyes to the tan walls behind him. In all attempts to avoid those eyes, it’s as if he’s a magnet and you’re the opposite pole. Everything you look at tears your attention back to him and the guilt of his younger brother standing right next to you, with no clue of his brother’s effect settles harshly into your gut. Out of all the boys in the world, you had to choose one with a brother looking like that.

Then a single thought mobbed your mind: You are so fucked.

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moonlights0nata · 6 years

Text

A Promise not even Death can Erase

.....it’s ya girl sonny back at it with the exe fics, specifically with hikari twins angst ! of a kind 8′) these brothers still kill me to this day did u know

This is AU, where Saito lived long enough for Netto to remember him....but he still became Rockman.

Enjoy !!

Also on AO3

“Don’t go.” It was said with fear and worry, in a small trembling voice. Netto’s hands tightly clutched Saito’s, resting them on the white sheets of the bed. It was as if he was afraid his brother would slip away from his hands, like he’d disappear into thin air.

Saito blinked at him and then his lips curled into a smile. He weakly squeezed Netto’s hands back. “What are you talking about?”

“I feel…like you are going to leave me behind.” He shook his head and hunched his shoulders, his lip quivering. “Don’t leave.”

Saito sighed. “I’m not leaving.” He managed to free one of his hands from Netto’s grip and gently placed it on Netto’s cheek, making the younger twin meet his gaze. “I’m right here, aren’t I? I’m not going anywhere.”

Despite his brother’s words, Netto had an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. Something didn’t feel right.

“…You promise?”

Saito nodded and, after freeing his other hand, wrapped his arms around Netto, pulling him close to his chest. “I promise. We'll be together, forever.”

Netto arms went around Saito as well, and for a moment, he felt calm, being held like this. “Yeah—together, forever.” Saito had never broke a promise before, why would he now? Everything would turn just fine in the end right?

Netto shifted his head, resting his ear just above Saito’s heartbeat. And yet...Instead of the steady thump thump of a heart, there was none, just silence. He froze in place, body tensing again, and the uneasiness he felt before came back full force. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

“…Saito?”

No response. Netto pulled away from the embrace and looked at Saito’s face. His eyes were open but they looked vacant, hollow, no light to them. Netto took hold of his shoulders and shook him a few times.

“Hey…Saito…” He was not waking up, no matter what he tried. It was then that Netto realized his brother was not breathing, and it was as if the air had been punched out of his own lungs.

“No no no-“ Netto shook his head several times, refusing to believe this was happening. “Saito, wake up-“ He brought a hand up to the other’s face, but flinched when they made contact with his skin. He was cold, too cold in comparison to the warmth Netto remembered. His eyes widened and his hold on Saito weakened, making his body fall back limp and lifeless against the white bed. The sight was too much for him to bear, and he couldn’t convince himself this was real.

He was about to reach out a hand towards his brother, try to shake him awake once more because this had to be a lie, when he felt someone pull him back, and people in white coats came into the room, surrounding the bed. Netto struggled, trying to free himself from the person holding him back. If he left Saito alone with those people they would take him away---He didn’t want that, he couldn’t let them take Saito. He screamed and kicked but no matter what he did he was only pulled further and further away from his brother.

'I'm sorry.' Saito's voice echoed in the room, in his mind, even when the body laid still and faraway in the bed. 'I lied.'

He let out a strangled sob and tried to reach his hand towards him again, as if that would be enough to get to him—but as he screamed his brother’s name, he found his fingers curling into nothing but thin air, and his eyes snapped open abruptly. He breathed heavily and stared at the blackness before his eyes. It took him various minutes to realize where he was. It was dark, but by the crumpled sheet around him, he was laying on his bed, in his bedroom. It had all been a nightmare, but a very real one.

He pulled the sheets away from him and stood up with trembling legs, going up the ladder of the bunk bed with effort. His eyes had slowly adjusted to the darkness, so he could make out the shape of the bed above his own. No matter how much he squinted, it was empty, with no sheets or covers, only a lonely pillow. It had been for a long time.

He felt his throat clog at the sight and he quickly went down again, before his legs decided to give out. His knees hit the floor as he choked on a sob, moisture gathering on his eyes.

“...Netto-kun.”

“Liar. You left. You left me.” His body shook, fists clenching. “You said we'd be together forever. You promised--” He sobbed, tears streaming down his cheeks and onto the floor.

“...I'm sorry, Netto-kun.” A blue, gloved hand rested on his shoulder. “I'm sorry I lied. I'm sorry I couldn't--” A shaky breath. “--couldn't come back as Saito.”

A part of Netto wanted to bat the hand a way.

The smart part of him knew he couldn't blame him.

The selfish part of him wanted to lash out.

“Then you shouldn't have promised.” He stood up abruptly, turning around to face Rockman in the copyroid, brown eyes misty and angry. Green eyes looked back at him, unreadable. “You shouldn't have promised and then come back—come back and not tell me for years.” He stabbed a finger at the the Navi's chest at the last word. “I needed you all that time.” He bit his lip. “I needed Saito and you never—you never told me--”

There was a pause.

It's not like they hadn't talked about this, after Netto finally found out—because Yuuichirou and Rockman were left with no choice but to tell him, in the fight against the WWW—but not like this. Not with the anger and the hurt so out in the open.

“...I was just a kid.” After a moment the Navi finally spoke, voice trembling and edging on angry. He took a step forward, a matching frown on his face. “I was just a KID, and I was SCARED ! I WANTED to keep that promise! “ His expression was torn. “I'm SORRY, I'm sorry I—I'm sorry I have his heart but I'm—I'm not good enough for you.” If the Copyroid could support it, Rockman would be crying now by the way his face crumbled.

“Do you think I didn't want to tell you? What—What Papa did? Who I was? The moment you held the PET for the first time I wanted to scream out and tell you, but Papa said it was too soon, and I—I didn't understand WHY. But I trusted him and I WAITED, but--” He covered his face with a hand, body shaking with sobs. “But I hated not—not being able to grow up with you ! I wanted to so badly—to share that with you. You have no idea, Netto. You have never idea how much I...I wished I could.”

Netto's anger deflated with every word. All he was left with was with regret for lashing out and a clog in his throat. He tried, really tried, to imagine what it must have been for Rockman—for Saito. Waking up as a Navi, wanting to tell Netto who he was but being unable to. What would it feel like, to die yet come back ? Wishing for things to be the same but they could never be?

“...I'm sorry.” Netto's voice broke. “I'm—Shoot, I'm so stupid, I'm so selfish--” He hiccuped, shoulders shaking. “I just---I wanted to grow up with you so much. I felt so lonely without you there--” He rubbed furiously at his eyes and looked down to the floor, feeling Rockman's eyes on him. “B-But then I find out you were always there? Fighting alongside me? Nagging me to do my homework, making sure I'm okay?” He laughed a little but it's distorted, voice trembling. “How did I not realize it was you sooner, huh? What--What kind of brother am I?” He looked up, and his sorrow was reflected in Rockman's face. “I wish I had noticed earlier. I—I missed you so much, Saito--”

“Don't--” Rockman shook his head. “Don't call me that I—I'm not—I can't--”

“You're Saito.” Netto took a step closer and tapped his core. “Right here, you're here. I'm sorry I got so a-angry, I'm sorry I'm so dense—“ He sniffed. “I needed you and you were here even—even if I didn't know.” Their eyes met and the affection in Netto's eyes as unmistakable. “You're Saito. You're—You're more than enough for me, you're my brother--” His voice broke again in a sob, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I-It sucks we can't always be like this, but we—we are always together!”

Rockman's face twisted, like he could be crying, and surged forward to catch him in a hug.

“I should have told you sooner--”

“You couldn't, that's fine--”

“I should have anyways, you needed me---”

“You were there and you're here now, it's fine, Saito--” Netto 's arms tightened around him. “You—You were lonely too, weren't you?”

Rockman sniffled. “Yeah—But watching over you was...was all I could ask for, back then.”

“I wish I could have been there for you too. Even if there's nothing I could have really done I--”

“No, no, shh--” Rockman shushed him. “You've done more for me than you can ever know...You gave me strength, all those times I was in the hopsital...and you keep giving me strength, every time we fight together, every day I get to spend beside you...Be it as Saito or Rockman, you keep me going.”

“Hey, I should be saying that!” Netto laughed a little, pushing back just enough to look at Rockman's face. “It's thanks to you nagging at me and fussing over me that I actually get things done. And the reason I've never given up—I...I don't think I ever told you but...When we were kids, I was jealous of you.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, cause...You were going through so much painful stuff, yet you never gave up. You always smiled and told me it was going to be fine, while all I could do was cry and wish you could come home. Hell, I used to scrap my knee and I cried ! I...I admired how strong you were. Made me want to be strong like you.”

“I really wasn't...” Rockman looked bashful. “I...I actually was jealous of you too.” Netto made a surprised noise and Rockman chuckled. “I always...admired how bright and cheerful you were. I wanted to be like that too.”

“Some people would argue I'm noisy and annoying.” Netto joked and Rockman shook his head, chuckling.

“You're loud and stubborn, it's what you are.” His hand held loosely to Netto's shoulders, eyes creasing with fondness. “But you wouldn't be Netto if you weren't that way.” He closed his eyes, reminiscent. “You are a pilar of strength for me. You will always be.”

Netto grasped Rockman's shoulders as well, pushing their foreheads together. “Again, that's my line...Now and always, you'll be the strongest in my eyes.” Before Rockman could protest, Netto knocked their foreheads again. “My strong and brave older brother.”

“Aw...” Rockman cooed, teasing, as he opened his eyes. “Are you going to call me Big Bro?”

Netto laughed, shoving him. “Shut up ! You get all high and mighty whenever I say you're the oldest twin.”

“I don't !” Rockman shoved him back, grinning. “It's just the truth, Little Bro.”

“Oh my god.” Netto rolled his eyes, throwing his arms in the air. “I'm going back to bed.”

“You should.” Rockman nodded, watching as Netto threw the covers back and laid down. “You still have school early tomorrow—Ah, you did do your homework didn't you? Mariko-san will get mad again--”

“Ah, jeez, get off my back!! I'm SLEEPING !!” Netto hid under the blanket, hearing Rockman laugh. After a beat of silence, he peeked his head from under the blanket. “...Will you...Can you...”

Rockman tilted his head. “What?”

Netto looked away with a pout, embarrassed. “...Can you stay?” He held out a hand palm up. “Until I fall asleep.”

Rockman smiled, sitting at the edge of the bed. He grasped Netto's hand in his, squeezing it, like he'd done so many times in the past when Netto had nightmares. Like Netto had done so many times for him when he couldn't sleep. They'd always been there, to support each other, to be each other's rock to lean on. That wouldn't change any time soon. Because Rockman—Saito had promised, and even if death had made him break that promise once, he wouldn't go back on his word again if he could help it.

“Yeah. Always, Netto-kun.” Forever.

#sonny writes #rockman.exe #and then bn3 happens....LMAO sorry i'm awful

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gdiwes · 6 years

Text

Food Soul OC Bio: Pocky

Since this got really long, I’m posting it separately from Pocky herself. I’ll do this with all the other Food Souls I make as well ^^

Prologue: Mommy

I was… summoned not too long ago.

To be honest, I never inherently knew that Food Souls were meant to be fighters. The woman who summoned me was very kind and never let me wander too far out of her line of sight when there was danger in the area. She refused to put me in danger ever. She told me that Food Souls were meant to fight, but that she didn’t summon me to do that. She summoned me not to protect her, but to give her someone to protect.

She had always wanted a child, she’d said. But for reasons she wouldn’t tell me she couldn’t have one. So she summoned me.

“I’m glad I was given such a cute daughter,” she would say, and pat my head. “Is it alright with you though? If I treat you like my own child?”

I’d never known what a mother was, but I didn’t dislike it. So I nodded and let her know it was okay.

From then on, she treated me like I was her daughter. She dressed me and got me my own room, we would eat dinner together and go shopping together. It was wonderful really. I love my new home, and my new mother.

Chapter 1: When Summer’s Over

Soon after I was summoned, my mother got a job as a waitress in a restaurant. Every day she would go to work, do a shift, and then come home. We would often eat dinner together either before or after her shift, and she would try to spend time with me on her days off unless she was tired.

Though I loved mommy and valued how hard she was working for me, I struggled to stay entertained in the long hours she was gone. It was hard to go out when so many people would look at me strangely… A Food Soul that didn’t fight, and acted as a ‘human daughter…’ Ah, it hurt that they would think of mommy so strangely. She loved me and I loved her. Why was that strange?

One day, mommy came home quite late. I was still up, playing music from the phone she had given me to stay in contact. Jello was the artist, a popular idol who was also a Food Soul. If Jello was so well received, why wasn’t I? Was it because she was talented? Cute? Popular? I didn’t get it.

“Pokkin, what’s wrong?” Mommy asked me. “Can’t sleep?”

“I’m okay,” I told her from where I was curled up on the couch.

“Pokkin… Is it because you have nothing to do during the day?”

Ah. She saw right through me.

“I’m sorry sweetie… I should have thought about this… I’ve been so focused working I didn’t stop to think about giving you something better to do during the day if you weren’t going out and exploring.” Mommy sat next to me and pulled me into a tight hug. “Is there something you want to do?”

We sat silently for a moment. But after I had some time to think, I remembered the school building I’d passed on one of my walks around. I took Mommy’s hand in mine.

“Can I go to school?”

Chapter 2: First Day

Mommy instantly enrolled me. The next session wouldn’t start for another month, but that gave me time to catch up as much as I could. I was born into the world knowing how to speak and walk, but I found out that I had to learn how to read and write on my own. Math and science were completely foreign concepts to me. I was reading through things I’d never even heard of.

Mommy helped tutor me as much as she could. I picked up reading and writing easily enough, but everything else made me struggle. So she made sure that I would be able to get tutoring after school with one of the teachers. As the first day rolled around, I became very excited. Mommy even walked to school with me on the first day.

I quickly realized that even here I wasn’t accepted much. I looked older than many of the children in the same grade as me, and though I studied hard and volunteered in class I still stumbled behind them. None of the kids approached me to talk to me or try to help. They just kept their distance and whispered.

Although my teacher was nice enough, I still knew that it was because I was a Food Soul that they were apprehensive. Food Souls were born to fight, but I wasn’t fighting. I didn’t even look like a fighter. I didn’t know how to feel.

Most days I would spend breaks listening to Jello on my phone. I envied her, really, but somehow her music gave me courage. She was so talented and successful, even as a Food Soul that didn’t fight… She made me think that I could be strong too.

With that thought, I studied even harder. For Jello. For Mommy. But mostly for myself.

Chapter 3: Passing the Test

A couple months passed peacefully. I still struggled to catch up to my peers, but my teacher had started noticing the strides I was making. Mommy would help me study whenever she had the chance, and would check over my homework. Though, she was spending more and more time at home, which worried me. When I asked, she just pat my head and told me not to worry about it.

One day at school, we were in the middle of a test when a the speakers started blaring our principal’s voice.

“Teachers, students, remain calm. A Fallen Angel has been sighted in the area. At the moment it isn’t advancing quickly but it is advised that you prepare for evacuation.”

A whisper ran over the room. A Fallen Angel… I felt so many eyes on me, boring into me. Ah, right… I was a Food Soul… Born to fight Fallen Angels… And yet… I was just as scared as my classmates. As if sensing my discomfort, my teacher began urging my class to get ready for an evacuation.

As we were starting to exit the classroom, the worst happened. We were by the door, but the other side of the classroom suddenly collapsed under a massive tentacle. My classmates screamed. Some were frozen in shock. Though I was shaking, some part of me urged me not to stand still. I started pushing at my classmates, yelling at them to exit the room before the rest of it collapsed.

As we got outside, many of the other classes had evacuated as well. We didn’t have time to wait for new orders. My classroom’s side of the building was suddenly bashed in, spraying dust and bricks this way and that. I was surrounded by screaming but I managed to remain calm. I couldn’t raise my voice over the ruckus but I could at least urge my classmates away from the Fallen Angel standing before us…

It’s mouth was bigger than I was tall. It’s body was only spiked tendrils. If it swept out once it would have killed all of us.

I was shaking. Terrified. I wanted to just run and hide and be held by Mommy. But I knew I couldn’t just let the Fallen Angel get to my peers. I watched it sweep one tendril out at a small group of students that had straggled behind. Without even thinking, I dove for them, shoving them out of the way. As rubble rained down on us, I raised my hand to stop it. Without even thinking I must have tapped into my powers, as a grate made from my namesake appeared in front of us, deflecting the rubble.

We had no time to think about it. They were on their feet running towards the teachers and I could only follow with my small shield to protect them. The Fallen Angel roared and swung again, freezing me in place. As I watched it’s next attack approaching me, I couldn’t even close my eyes and pretend like it was some nightmare—!

The hit never came. A Food Soul covered in golden armor dove in front of me and blocked the hit with their body. They slashed through the arm, and quickly dispatched the Fallen Angel. We were saved… I fell to my knees and began to cry.

Epilogue: Pocky

“Pocky! Are you ready to study!”

My classmates called to me from one of the tables. Soon after the incident at school, I had been withdrawn from the system. However, Mommy had opened a new cafe that doubled as a study spot for many of my former classmates. Though I no longer went to school with them, they would still come by to study with me and keep me updated on what they were learning.

“Just one more customer, then I’ll be over!” I told them, bringing our table drinks and snacks.

“Hurry! You know that it’s unacceptable to be late to class!”

We laughed together before I quickly ran off to serve another table. The golden Food Soul that had saved me was sitting there with a man much shorter than her. I startled upon seeing her.

“You’re the Food Soul!! From back then…”

“You must be one of the students Creme Brulee saved—Ah, no,” the man said, “You’re the Food Soul who helped her protect the other students?”

“I didn't really help…”

“Nonsense! She told me that you shielded a group of students that was attacked before she could get there.”

As he spoke rather loudly, some of my classmates overheard. They came over and surrounded me. One looped her arm around my shoulder.

“Yeah! Pocky saved us!”

“When we thought we were gonna be crushed, she put up this big shield in front of us!”

“If it wasn’t for Pocky, we wouldn’t be here right now. We owe her so much.”

I could feel my face getting hotter as the praised me. I could barely get a word in to tell them I didn’t do anything, when I felt a hand pat my head. I looked up to see Mommy smiling down at me.

“Now now, don’t tease Pokkin too much. My daughter’s a strong girl, but she’s too modest for her own good!”

Despite myself, I laughed with everyone at the table.

#Chapter 3 was so wordy lol #but I couldn't help it haha it was an ACTION PACKED chapter #food fantasy #fan made food soul #food fantasy fan soul #food fantasy OC #ff pocky #mayocado #cadowrites #the Creme Brulee teaser tho #didn't know if I should make it her or Spring Roll lol #but Creme Brulee fit better haha #I'm working on her Chibi so I'll post the rest of Pocky's information when I finish that ^^

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thedepressedweasel · 6 years

Text

Please don’t assume that everyone had a wonderful family.

My ex-brother (whom I cut out of my life two years ago) has always been abusive to me since I was born and is also an ableist dickbag to boot. He’s also the kind of person who will beat you up, scream at you, call you names, harass you, badger you, cuss you out, etc., but won’t ever take it back.

And yet people always get so personally fucking insulted enough to say “But he’s your brother, you shouldn’t say those things about him, you should just always love, worship and respect him, no matter what!”

Excuse me, go fuck yourselves!

If your brother treats you like some brothers treat their siblings, you wouldn’t call him that either.

I will say whatever the fuck I want about him; therefore, I will also call him whatever the fuck I want!

He had called me many names to boot, such as stupid, fat, ugly, retard(ed), slut, whore, bitch, cunt, skank, ho, hooker, autist (I’m autistic BTW), stinky, smelly, (fucking) animal, useless, worthless, fatass, piece of shit, beached whale, annoying, obese prostitute, unfuckable, etc.

I call him a beast and an asshole because that’s what he is, he’s a fucking monster!

Before I go on to list abusive things that he did, please don’t say things like “Oh I hate my brother because he got an iPhone X for Christmas and I didn’t”. Don’t get me wrong; I won’t try to belittle your problems, but there are times that there’s nothing to belittle.

When I was little, I tried to get him to play with me and he kept saying things like “Go away!”, “Nobody likes you, etc.”, and yet I wouldn’t shut up, so he beat me up.

Also, even when I was little, he wasn’t above and, therefore, thought nothing twice of, belittling my intelligence (even though I was a good student).

One time, I wanted to watch Timon & Pumbaa and when I was watching its one episode in his room, he kept screaming abusive words in my face and even said that he would beat me so hard he could “send me flying to China”.

He even had horrible fantasies about murdering me in different ways and even beat me so bad that he “would send me flying to Australia or China”.

Then when I was in middle school, he became progressively worse; he would belittle me for watching cartoons (when he would do the same, just to be a hypocrite). He belittled me over my healthy appreciation for Pokemon and Super Smash Bros., tried to rip my Pokemon Stadium 2 poster, Pokemon Gold & Silver poster and Pokemon Crystal poster, respectively (just because he hated them), told me that nobody liked me, that everyone hated me, and even told me to shut up all the time. He would also punch and kick doors everywhere within my ear range (which even carried on well into adulthood until he moved out to New York two years ago) just because he could.

One night on my 14th birthday party, he beat me on the head so hard that I was afraid that I was going to get brain damage after that and it was all because I called him a “motherfucker” for being an abusive scumbag (but that’s what he is TBH). A couple of days later, he beat me up again and it was all because I was trying to kill a mosquito with a fly swatter and I called it the same name that I had called him for being abusive. He also became increasingly hostile towards me and even my “parents”, and yet they wouldn’t try to do anything about it.

Oh, and one time, when I rented Sonic Adventure 2: Battle (say hello to Shadow, people, because that’s what I did) and I chose to start with the Hero Story and, therefore, was already fighting the first boss, my ex-brother walked in on me during said boss battle and, instead of encouraging me that I could beat it, he said that I sucked. Also, when I finally got Sonic Heroes for my eighth grade graduation present, he tried to steal it from me whenever he got the chance.

Oh, and the last time we came to Calistoga (my grandpa was having a birthday there atm), my ex-brother was watching TV and at the same time, screaming at my “mom” and my grandma to shut up just because they couldn’t stop talking.

When I was 15, when a family friend’s father died and my “parents” came over to her house for condolences, I was using my “dad”’s computer when that hideous scumbag of a brother chased me around the house and even threatened to bash my head against the wall until it turned into mush (it sadly wasn’t the first time, though, since he also kept threatening to do that a year prior).

Also, when we went to this even in high school called “Breaking Down the Walls” and I misunderstood something and, therefore, embarrassed him by mistake, other siblings would simply sit their siblings down and talk to them about it and how they feel about it. But not my ex-brother; he really took it the wrong way, so when he came home from school, he immediately beat me up (even while I was trying to do my homework) and it was so bad that I came to school with several bruises and cuts everywhere on my body the next day.

When I was 16, I remember hiding in the water closet with the door locked because my ex-brother was punching and kicking walls and doors and even said that he would break and destroy my face; it was all over the fucking heat machine (which also doubled as an air conditioner every summer) working, since he saw that I was cold and just didn't care at all.

When I was 18, he beat me up on Thanksgiving...and it was over a fucking middle finger.

A year later, he beat me up because I was upset and crying after my “mom” verbally abused me.

I remember being mostly homeless (and living with my grandparents) at age 19.

When I was 22, he called me stupid because my “parents” sent me to get him to help and since he was eating something atm, I couldn't get him to help them with their groceries or something while they (and even my grandparents) just stood idly by and did a big fat nothing about it (my grandpa tried talking to him about it, though).

When I was 23, he lied to my “parents” about me writing stuff about him on Facebook everyday (when, really, I was writing more on JustRage.com instead) and forced them to take away my laptop. Then a few weeks later, when we were moving from Henderson to Las Vegas, I was taking a shower and I was going to blowdry my hair and then straighten it (since I took and still take pride in maintaining straight hair) and he took it the wrong way and not only punched and kicked walls and doors everywhere, but also beat me up (even when I finally got the courage to fight back), bashed my head against the wall and even threw away my GameCube, blowdryer, etc. (I did get them back, though) and even stole my phone, only for my “dad” to make him give it back to me. Then the bext day, we were going to Soyo Barstaurant (it is the weirdest Korean restaurant that I know) and I did what other humans did best, such as breathing, to which he took it the wrong way and screamed at me for breathing. Like, do you really want me to die, asshole? He also screamed at my “parents” and told them bad things about me and even said that they should have me euthanized, all the while misgendering me. Then once we were insude the restaurant, he was still screaming in my face, as if he was possessed by some demon and when I tried to reason with him, he screamed things like “Shut the fuck up, you fucking retard! I’ve always hated you since birth!” My “parents”, though, still did nothing about it. Then the next day, he was still badmouthing me, misgendering me on purpose (I was an AFAB), and even terrorized me.

He also did many more bad things to me, even when we moved again a year later.

At age 24, I tried to get some ice cream and he called me a fat pig and even threatened to beat me up over it, since he cared more about sleep instead of my happiness.

At age 26, he not only did more bad things to me, but even beat me up in the head, punched my rib cage to the point where the bruise on it would last for several weeks on end and even punched my belly so bad that I not only almost died after that, but I was also afraid that because of him, I would never be able to have any children...and it was all because I had enough and tried to run away.

Then a few months later, when my “parents” had to go to California to see what was up with my grandpa (he had dementia and was in the hospital atm because he was hitting my grandma, who had called the cops on him, thrice), my ex-brother beat me up for having cheesecake (I called the cops on him for that, even though they let him go after coming over the next day) and then pulled me out of class the next day, even stealing many of my electronics just because he could. Then the next day, he even stole the keys from me and wouldn't even let me check the mail, even saying “shut up” when I nicely asked to have them back...and then eventually beat me up. That was when I started breaking down, crying and even thinking “How can my own brother, my own flesh and blood, hate me so much? What the hell have I done to him to make me hate him so much?”, to which he just stood there and laughed sadistically in my face. I was not allowed to even lock my door or hide anywhere, even when he chased me with a knife and said that he was going to kill me (I think he might've been in gangs or something like that since high school, just an assumption). Then the next day, he punched and kicked my bedroom door as well as the walls upstairs, belittled my intelligence, badgered me, taunted me, laughed at me, called me names like fat, ugly, stupid, piece of shit, worthless, useless, obese, etc., said that all I did was “eat, shit and sleep” (when in reality, I was---am---the one who has always helped even more than he ever did) and even said that I would never be able to drive or get a job (when in reality, I could go to job training and he was the one who had prevented me from getting a job for several years on end) and that I was only good for sex. He also had tried to rape me for a few days and, therefore, a few times. When I was eating a chocolate muffin, he cruelly snatched it away from me and even crushed it into mush and threw it out in order to prevent me from eating, and then he deliberately jabbed at my throat and punched me. He also then told me that if I told anyone about it, he would murder me in cold blood and rape my corpse and that when my “parents” would die from old age, he would leave me out in the cold and kick me out and that not even my uncle and my grandparents would ever look for me neither (when in reality, I’m the one who has spent more time with them than he ever would) and that everyone hated me. He would also only let me have one meal a day and even told my “parents” through the phone that they should buy me lots of extra-strength diet pills. He still beat me up again the next day (my “parents” were finally coming back atm).

Then the next month, he called me stupid again after he called my “mom” and she forced me to pick up the phone for her against my will.

He did everything he could to make me even twice as miserable as himself.

Then when he moved out to New York, I immediately cut him out of my life and as a result, he could never hurt me again.

Please don't say things like “I hate my brother because he's autistic and annoying and I want him dead” or “I hate my brother because he got an iPhone X for Christmas and I didn't!”

Believe me, all I ever wanted for Yuletide/Christmas (or Hanukkah when I was younger) was a brother who was really nice, loving, caring, mutually helpful, mutually supportive, thoughtful, nurturing, protective (but not overprotective) and very kind so we could be best friends for siblings instead of a monster and his broken little ASAB (assigned sister at birth).

I could go on, but this is my story, so please don't belittle it by saying “I hate my brother because he's annoying” or “I hate my brother because he got an iPhone X for Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa and I didn't.”

Reblog if you know what real sibling abuse is.

#i hate my brother #sibling abuse #abusive brothers #abusive siblings #fatphobia tw #domestic violence tw #abusive parents tw #ableism tw

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thinkingaboutsanfrancisco · 4 years

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Like water bursting free from the confinements of the dam, he finally starts to pour out the cocktail of sweet, delectable, context for me. It quickly drowns out his meaningless suggestion of being concise, but I'm not going to refute statements of immunity. I'm not mad, his lack of pith doesn't bother me. Shocking, I know, but at this point it's the only thing that is going to get me to any potential realm of understanding so I can possibly add anything of value before I eventually return home and resume anxiously stewing in my own regrets. It has to be getting late by now. Pulling out my phone and openly checking the time would be rude, so I have to take a long deep breath to still that pestering, habitual, urge. My homework was done on Friday night, surviving school on no sleep is a mastered art by now, my phone hasn't buzzed and the owl cars can carry me home if need be. I don't need to look at it. I don't need to be reminded again. Shifting more towards him, I extend my arm on the back of the bench and bring it up to rest my cheek on my palm, tuning into the spectacular story of S and Lyd.

It all begins when they're...even younger than I am? Really? Yes, he's older than me, but not by much. Certainly not enough to warrant this old man-whippersnapper dynamic he keeps putting us in. But, technically, he is right. They're...thirteen and fourteen? Middle school?! Oh Jesus Christ...

Say no more, S. I get exactly the nauseatingly obnoxious tone you're going for. Anything that sprouts in eighth grade is destined to be a fucking weed. I seriously believe that it'd be best if we just abolished that year completely, let puberty set in some so that no one has to witness the horrifying process and then resume in highschool. The slight decrease in bullshit exposure would have a major impact on the state of humanity, I assure you.

His story starts off more Wonder Years wholesome than initially expected. He sees her, that dangerously random and impalpable switch is flipped in his head where everything else in his world is rendered nebulous and she's now the only thing he can focus on, he does something with it and asks her out, gets luckier than a lotto winner when she agrees, and they date. I have to admit that I'm continuing to struggle thinking of him as anything other than his current form of a lanky college student by day and my coke supplier by night. Trying to visualize his last story that took place this morning was hard enough, but I eventually could conjure it. Beyond our burners and serving our burnouts, there's always the shining side of the coin: the life that makes walking carefully through these shadows worth enduring. It might've taken a while to grasp, the autopilot we run on out here that blinds us to the human qualities of our customers and dealers takes a minute to switch off, but it's not too hard to buy him having it to comfort someone who means something to him. We've all had to be someone's shoulder to cry on at least once in our lives, him selling me discounted grams and eight balls on a Friday night doesn't exclude him from doing that on a Saturday. He's human too.

Him as a teenager though, younger than I am...I fucking can't. I keep having to put his current self in as a visual placeholder, despite knowing damn well that he didn't have facial hair or probably as long of a drawl at fourfuckingteen, but what the hell else can I do? Imagine him freaking out on her with that same cracking barely pubescent voice that I mouthed off with too? I'd rather not. It's an amusing discrepancy but just makes it more glaringly obvious of my weird spot that I've put myself in: too deep to where I'm hooked, still not deep enough to make something out of it. I need to settle down though. He's still setting up the foundation for me and I find my lips spreading into a sardonic grin when he puts out a metaphor he knows I understand. Addiction. But him being addicted to her being akin to how he's addicted to his favorite movie is such a saccharine view of it that my stomach turns like I've eaten too many Pixie Sticks. He doesn't realize how natural his voice picks up that speed, how his eyes can still grow that agape and filled with wonder. Everything he's talking about is so innocuous that it's practically rated G, which should be a welcome change given the complete smut film that was this morning, but I've seen that same foolish look in so many other people that I can't revel in the glory of that summer pinnacle he continues to hold within him now. It's a good thing too. The comedown's already here and, while there's never any subtly to the crash, there's something painful in his frank brevity. He has to rip this moment off like a band-aid because it still hurts to think about a decade or so later and...

Is this what's going to happen to me?

I know everything feels eternal on a bad night but...is it truly going to be like this forever? Am I still going to want to bash my phone against my head over all of my miscues with Ray when I'm my fucking twenties?

Quit worrying about it. I won't even know her then.

Surely I'm never gonna cross her mind twice once she graduates and leaves my sight for better pastures---or even before if she caught my stupid drift and already said bon voyage in my inbox. God knows where the fuck I'll be, but she's too good to let herself linger in my rotting brain. She's like a shooting star, a bright little blip that dazzles into my highschool life as quickly as it leaves the sky with nothing and all I can do is sit here in the dark and watch. That's just how the world works.

You can't control fate like that.

I wish I could tell New Year's Eve 2006 S this, maybe it could've spared 2015 S from having to recount a story that chews up my silly moment of existentialism and spits it out...

Initially, it doesn't start off bad but that's becoming a reoccurring theme so I'm able to brace myself for the first bout of secondhand cringe. It's nine years ago, he's drunk and oblivious this time, and she unexpectedly breaks up with him. New Year, New Me makes me groan, but it's manageable. Unlike what happens next...

"My best friend, he looks at me, and he says - I saw Lydia making out with some guy in the bathroom. Before she broke up with you.”

Any humor that I could ever have found in this situation has drained out of me like the warmth in my body as I just stare at him, struck as stunned as his friend who had the misfortune of watching it unfold. The maniacal laugh is back again, but it does nothing to shake me from being frozen by the complete and total violation of trust that thank god I've only had to aurally witness. If anything, I at least can understand his reaction now. Hell, I can fucking respect it. It must've taken years to develop the ability to even breathe normally again after hearing about that, much less pace back and forth trying to escape the inescapable. I can't even fucking move, despite my brain screaming at me to tell him that I absolutely don't want to hear anything more chilling because I think I've heard enough of this story that I've regretfully asked for. I get the jest. They had a decade long unstable relationship, everybody's wrong, and the right thing to do is for them to not get back together again. Fuck, I can even offer him a slice of optimism now. It's a good thing that it didn't work out today, S. It's a really good thing. She's as insouciant with your feelings now as she was then and the only way it's ever going to stop is if you stop being oblivious and quit letting her walk all over you. You know it and--- "It was a day after I told her I loved her for the first time. She said it back, but…I guess she didn’t mean it, huh? Anyway..."

Now I do too.

He keeps going on, something about 2008 and...I don't know why the hell he feels it necessary to bring up James Dean but it doesn't matter. I can't listen and I don't have to. There's absolutely nothing that he can say or she could do that could shock me more than that. There's nothing anybody could do that's worse. Her physically ripping into his chest and taking his heart only to run over it several times before apathetically tossing it back to him would've been better...at least the pain would have to stop after a while and he wouldn't have to linger with the chronic ache he's been suffering from. It's humane in comparison to her fatal lie...but... "I feel like I’m fucking dying. My head hurts. So that’s the brilliant story of how I went balls deep on my ex-girlfriend right after she got cheated on. You like it? You got any fucking thoughts? Let me know. Let me know, because I’m about to have a conniption if I can’t find any reason in her unceremonious sort of break-up text. Swear to god..."

If it weren't for that, I'm not sure I'd ever be able to come back to the present...which is weird because I've never physically left it. Every memory of his is new information to me and there's so much of it that it actually makes what was exchanged with her tonight seem like an eternity ago. I have to remember that he's supposed to be the one who committed a heinous act by sleeping with her after her boyfriend cheated on her, I have to remember that she came to him crying over it, I have to remember that she isn't totally heartless and that he was the only person who's ever truly been there for her. I have to remember that this is my drug dealer and some girl I've never even met and...I have to remember to be careful. I'm definitely in too deep now and it'd be just about my luck if my fate got sealed out here without any coke at stake just because I saw past all of the nostalgia and possessed the audacity to call a spade a spade.

Maybe that's why he called me out here. Maybe I'm the only person who can say it.

My eyes close as I remove the disintegrating Parliament from my lips, breathing in and trying to bring myself back to all those fucking thoughts that I had...

"Well...there is a reason. As nonsensical, unfair, and sometimes downright cruel the world can be, within it's burning core always remains a reason and...I think you know it. Or, at least, I'm led to believe you maintain a good idea of it. You said yourself that you don't know why you're surprised because it ends up in the same shit every time and I don't think you need me to elaborate on the inevitability of the result. You two are not meant to be, and no matter how good both of your intentions are or everything else that's changed in your lives, this decade long track record cements the truth. She knows what you want and if she couldn't give that to you ten years ago and couldn't give it today, she's not going to give it to you tomorrow either. The only thing that's gonna change is when you realize that Lyd the majestic fucking angel is a joke that you don't have to keep falling fool to. You shouldn't have slept with her last night and she shouldn't have slept with you either, you're both wrong and you've both have been wrong. You've come full circle. We can sit here for another two hours and agonize over how shittily she's gone about it, but the fact is that it was honest. Brutally honest, but that's become her specialty. At least it's clarity. She's decided to move on and, if you want to finally break this long and suffocating chain, you should too. No one person is worth that much pain."

#/stopyourtrain #the bros #04122015

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sulfurousdreamscapes · 7 years

Text

What’s this? A beige mannequin, standing on a raised disc in the middle of the floor—a podium, illuminated by stage lights too bright to look at. In the background is a rising crescendo—rising, but still somehow in stasis, as if it could go on rising forever. As I step closer to the podium, the music gets louder. Operatic voices and string instruments, all making me feel as small as a child looking up at its destiny. The mannequin is impassive. My destiny is impassive.

Our strength lies in our arms. They’re beautiful limbs, from the smooth roundness that forms the shoulders, down the thick trunks of musculature, down to the hard elbows and then—smooth and firm forearms that terminate in the most important part of them all: our hands. Our hands with fingers that grasp. Our hands that support. There’s safety in our hands. There’s love in our hands.

The mannequin rotated its right arm by the shoulder joint to raise it. It’s face was featureless, but I knew what it wanted me to do. I raised my own right arm, and our hands grasped each other. I held on with all my strength. Then, I pulled. The mannequin’s arm came off, and at once, the lights shut off. The mannequin disappeared in the dark. And yet, I could see the arm I was clutching in my hand.

Some of us have more than one arm, like Christina. She was demure and proper. She’d offer you tea even if you were just delivering a package to her room. When called by the Instigator though, her transformation would turn her carefree smile into a scornful frown, and she’d pose as if ready to launch her body at whatever monster needed to be slain this week. Her dress was hot red, with streaks of orange and yellow. And in her hands were two arms, both of them charred black.

We’re all soldiers of love, but there is no more dedicated soldier of love than Joan. She was compassion itself. The Instigator had given her an interesting one: two hands clasping each other as if in prayer, arms outstretched. Joan would hold the arms with both of her hands and use the instrument like a staff, her hands gripping either wrist. If she joined her hands with the hands on her arms, she could even shoot out a healing beam from either shoulder: re-energising us when we needed it the most.

The Instigator was strict about how we talked about our arms. “They’re not your weapons,” he said, and his aye-aye eyes blinked after every sentence. He looked at each of us to make sure we understood. “They’re your arms. Just like these,” he pointed with his long black finger at the arms attached to my body. “Treat them like they are your arms, and they will serve you as arms.”

“We’ll take good care of them!” Irene jumped in excitement, looked at the rest of us, and then sheepishly corrected herself, “Well, I will, any way.”

The Instigator paid her no mind. No one really ever did, and Irene resented that the most. In the corner of my eye, I could see her pout and frown.

“In your arms and in your arms, there is strength. In your hands and in your hands, there is safety. There is love. You will need all three of these to crush all those who oppose us.”

“Hey, Instigator,” Noelle said, “You’re not a human, so why do you care?” Her face was sullen, as usual.

The Instigator’s aye-aye eyes pierced humility into her. “Love is more than you can ever comprehend,” he said.

Noelle preferred coffee over tea, but she was perfectly nice as a homework buddy. She always helped me with answers, even if she never seemed to smile. Still, I wish she drank tea, just so she wouldn’t be the odd one out at the tea parties we’d host in Joan’s backyard.

“Hey Noelle, what kind of guy do you like?” I asked one day, kicking my legs in the air, taking a break from algebra homework.

She looked at me like I’d crossed a line with her, a glare that seemed to be setting me on fire ever so slowly. “Let’s just do our homework,” she said with a low voice. I decided to push her a bit. “But you’ve got to have a type, right? Everyone has a type! So spill it!”

She went back to her homework. Then, after a while, she put her pen down and looked at me. “I don’t have a type, and I don’t like any kind of guy. Does that answer your question?” she said. I made a face, and we both defused the awkward situation with some impromptu laughter.

Was that the day? Yes, I think that was the day the Roachdom invaded. Well, that’s what it called itself: the fifty-foot cockroach that walked on its hind legs and went about smashing cars and destroying property. It even grabbed a few people off the streets and killed them. The Roachdom was evil.

We weren’t at the HQ, and we had a close brush with it when a thrown car smashed into Noelle’s house. We ran out to the street, saw the thing on its rampage. We looked at each other, nodded and held hands. The transformation complete, Noelle’s arm appeared in her hand: it was lustrous green, as if it was made of smooth emerald.

Noelle’s arm worked like a rifle. She had the hand part rest on her shoulder while she held up the elbow and fired full auto. She was a pretty sharp shot (all that archery practice she got helped), and she was a thorough asset. She was also taller and better built than any of us girls.

The Roachdom laughed at us, and mocked us quite a bit. I was most annoyed that he seemed to find our dresses impractical. When we kicked his ass, he wasn’t laughing much. I raised my white arm in the air and bludgeoned the head with the shoulder. I kept bashing it in until there wasn’t a head anymore: just a stain on the street.

“Nice job, Tina,” Noelle said as we walked back home, back in our regular clothes.

“Thanks,” I said. We’d beaten the Roachdom by ourselves, before the rest of the girls could even get here. We’d had to call them and tell them that the party was over.

“You wanted to know what kind of guy I like, yeah?” Noelle said, “Well, I’d like a guy like you.”

I blushed. “I’m not a guy, Noelle,” I laughed nervously.

“Yeah,” she said and looked at me like no girl had before.

I could see myself shifting in my bed, uneasy and frowning. It was dark, but there was enough moonlight from the large window in my room to reveal a form in soft blue pee-jays. Once I got over the surprise of looking at myself sleep, I started wondering what I was doing here. Was it a dream, all just fiction? Was it real life, and I was having an out-of-body experience?

And then the arms appeared. The spread out from underneath the bed, and clawed their way up, grabbing the edges of the bed, and then upwards. They gripped my body—my ankles, my legs, my belly, my chest, my arms and wrists. One hand placed itself on my mouth, muffling my screams. I wanted to do something. I wanted to break this and return to my body to fight them off. I wanted to transform.

I mentioned the nightmare to Joan the next day. She looked deeply concerned. “I don’t think that’s related, but it does sound indicative of deep-seated psychological issues,” she said, resting an elbow on a wrist and holding her chin.

“But Joan,” I said, “They were arms. I saw them clearly. You don’t think this is even remotely related? I should tell the Instigator.”

Joan nodded slowly. The kind of nod you do to say that yes, you were listening, and not yes, you agree.

“What’s bothering you, Joan?” I asked, placing a hand on her shoulder. She looked at my hand a little surprised, but then shook her head gaily and hugged me. “Nothing,” she said in a dreamy voice, “I just don’t want anything bad to happen to my Tina.”

I summoned the Instigator at our usual place: the abandoned park with the benches carved out of wooden logs. I sat on one of the benches and invoked him with the magic words. When he appeared in my lap, he looked at me with some expectation.

I explained the dream to him, and told him how much it was bothering me. He blinked a few times, and then disappeared under the bench. I jumped of and crouched down to find him, but he had disappeared.

The next day, I found a cute little pendant on my study table. It was shaped like a heart, and made to resemble a diamond. I clasped it tightly in my hand, and kept it close to me. I had no more nightmares after that. I returned to the park a few days later and thanked the Instigator. He blinked.

“Tina,” Joan stopped me one day, “That pendant. Did the Instigator give it to you?”

I showed her what it looked like. “Yes. Well, I mean, I think so? He didn’t say so, so it could be my mother. But my mother, giving me a pendant? Not in this reality,” I laughed.

She laughed with me a bit, but her eyes didn’t waver from the pendant. “Wouldn’t it be nice if we all got pendants. I even know what shape I’d like mine to be…”

“And what shape is that?”

“It’s a secret,” she winked.

“What’s going on, girls?” I asked, bringing my lunch to the table. The atmosphere didn’t look very inviting today.

“Noelle’s been asking too many questions is what’s going on,” Irene said, “She doesn’t believe in the Instigator.”

“I don’t either,” I said, and everyone at the table turned to look at me in surprise, but I saw a flicker of a smile light up on Noelle’s face. This needed clarification, so I continued, “Well, I mean, we don’t really know anything about him. He’s given us these powers, but where do they come from? How do they work? There’s too much we don’t know.”

“Does it matter?” Irene asked, a little ticked off, “I mean, we’re taking down monsters. Real monsters that would destroy everything. We’re literal heroes.”

“And yet, no one can see us. You don’t think that’s a little weird?” I said.

Noelle nodded. “And the monsters only started showing up after the Instigator showed us our powers.”

“They’re our powers,” Irene said, starting to sob a little, “Our potential. The Instigator is helping us realise our own latent potential, is that so bad?”

Noelle slammed her fist on the table. “You’re just his bitch, aren’t you?”

Irene looked shocked at that, and started crying. Joan and Christina worked to comfort her, the Red Cross nurses that they were. Christina even gave Noelle the stink-eye. Noelle rolled her eyes, and grabbed my hand. “Let’s beat it, Tina. Irene cries enough salt to feed a state any way.”

The five of us showed up before the Instigator that day. Irene was crying again, and pointing fingers at Noelle and me, calling us traitors and collaborators with the monsters. The Instigator attentively followed her motioning, looking at us and back to her. “They should be punished!” she squealed.

The Instigator turned to face me. “What have you done with the pendant?” he asked me.

Irene’s fists were balled, and she looked ready to throw a punch. “Fuck the pendant! Fuck you, Tina,” she screamed.

Suddenly, we heard the sound of a sheet of glass being smashed through and through. The sound seemed to come from Irene. She dropped on her knees. “What… did you do to me?” she asked, looking aghast.

I was showing the Instrigator the pendant when this happened. “You will not use such language around me,” the Instigator said. “What I’ve given, I can take away. Don’t forget that. If I take away your potential, you are nothing. You are weak. You are broken. That is what you are now. Broken.”

Irene crashed down, and rolled on the grass. She looked more frustrated than in pain, and she kept saying ‘No’ over and over, until it became quite painful to hear.

“The rest of you, I assume, don’t want to be like her,” the Instigator turned to look at us. “Irene forgot about love. Remember. Love is everything. You are nothing without love.”

We nodded. Out of fear more than understanding, I think.

"Don't close your eyes," the Instigator said.

It's one thing to see a mangled corpse, but another entirely then that corpse used to be someone you knew. Irene was unrecognisable.

I tried to make the body go away from my mind, to replace it with the Instigator's bulbous eyes. But no, the image wouldn't leave my mind. I grasped my arm tight, and screamed loud enough to draw everyone's attention to me. Including the Arbiter's.

The Arbiter had a giant, vertical mouth, lined with the sharpest teeth I'd seen: rows and rows of teeth. By focusing for a few seconds, it could fire a devastating force beam that could throw back any of us several metres away, and that's keeping in mind our own resistance.

Irene had been the first to attack. She went right for his mouth, and then right into his mouth.

My leg was bleeding. The other girls were trying to co-ordinate their attacks, but only taking damage. Cuts, bruises, blows. Sticks and stones.

"What is love, Instigator?" I asked as the Arbiter focused his attacks on nearby targets. "Did Irene deserve this?" I asked.

"Now is not the time," the Instigator said, "Love is too great to be explained in the midst of battle."

"I have no love for anyone anymore," I said, gripping my arm to my breast and hugging it tightly.

"That is not true," the Instigator said. He was right. He knew.

The Arbiter raised a leg high in the air and brought it down with impeccably timing on Joan's head. She didn't even scream, she just moaned a little and dropped unconscious. Noelle and Christina retreated.

"She's really gone, isn't she?" I looked at the corpse again, and smeared my palm with some of the blood on my leg.

"She was foolish."

"She deserved it, right?" I asked.

"She had no love," the Instigator said.

"Is she in heaven now, I wonder," I said, and finally, the cries and screams pierced my ears. They were calling out my name.

"Tina!" it was Christina. She was firing both her arms , then reloading them. Noelle was zipping in and out of the fray, using her arm for long-range strikes. The Arbiter kept swatting at them and alternately using his beam attack.

"Get him, now, Tina!" Christina yelled at me. I started running at him, and leapt as high as I could, holding up my arm and sweeping down onto his head.

He looked at me. Big, bulbous eyes. Just like the Instigator. And then, a blue flash, and I flew, and I flew, and I flew.

When I came to, Christina's decapitated head was lying a few feet away from me. I was too weak to jump and run. I just rolled over, and closed my eyes, until I felt an arm. It was a warm arm.

Noelle held my hand with both of hers, and smiled.

"It's over, Tina," she said. "We failed. The Instigator left us. It's all over," she kissed my hand.

It felt nice.

Today’s throwback story is about occupying shadows.

#writing #writers of tumblr #story #short story #spilled ink #spilled words #daily writing

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