#Edit I need to clarify I love glisten and I would never be like this with him if he was real.

[kornter]

"Glisten, how does it feel to be the worst toon?"

"What. Uh. C-c-come again?"

"I said-"

"No, no. I heard what you said."

Dialogue is a reference to Silver Spoon's EXIT interview.

Drawing done on Infinite Painter (Free). Don't copy.

[tefilovesreading]

Things I love about you (Charlie Gillespie x Reader)

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x Fem!Reader

Word count:1,6k

Warning: Some swearing (not really), a little bit of French, mention of wine bc why not. Other than that is just fluff, like loads of it.

Edited by @theamazingtomholland​

MASTERLIST

Charlie always thought people were crazy when they used to list things they loved about their partners, maybe because he never fell in love as hard as he did for the girl sleeping peacefully, tangled in the sheets, and wearing nothing but his t-shirt. He kissed her shoulder before leaving the room, ready for his morning run.

He knew very well she’d still be fast asleep once he came back with breakfast, even if that meant coming back in almost an hour. And Charlie was right. When he came back an hour later, with sweat glistening his skin and the bagels he bought for breakfast, his girlfriend was still sleeping, and he let out a chuckle when he saw the nest made of pillows she always made in her sleep whenever she was sleeping on her own.

That was one of the little things she did that he completely loved. It was as if she needed to feel something holding her in her sleep, especially if he wasn’t sleeping next to her. They would cuddle before they fell asleep, but even if she wasn’t in his arms the whole night, somehow they always were touching each other in their sleep. It could be their hands, a foot, or their backs, but they were always close.

After a quick shower, he sat next to his sleeping girlfriend, caressing her arm to wake her up.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he said in a soft voice when the girl stretched out, opening her eyes slowly.

“Morning, Charlie,” Y/N said, her voice laced with sleep, “Are you going for a run?”

“I already went for a run, my love,” the boy laughed softly, “I got us breakfast, so get your pretty ass out of bed, because I’m starving.”

“I’ll be right there, honey,” she smiled at him and rubbed her face against the pillow one last time before getting up.

Charlie handed her a warm cup of coffee, pointed to the bagels on the table. Y/N picked the one she thought was hers, knowing her boyfriend preferred the one with the beacon.

“This smells so damn good,” Charlie heard her say, and when he looked at her, she was sneakily sniffing the bagel. 

And that was one of the little things Y/N did that he found adorable. Every time she had to eat or drink something, she’d smell it slightly, as if she wanted to find out the flavors beforehand.

“Who said that one was yours?” Charlie questioned jokingly just before she took the first bite. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and put the bagel down.

“But you always order the one with avocado and tomato for me, baby,” she pouted and Charlie laughed. He got closer to the girl and pecked her lips.

“I was messing with you,” he clarified.

“What do you have to do today?” Y/N asked, before taking a sip of her coffee.

“I have an interview in like an hour,” he checked his phone with a grimace, “I should probably start getting ready. Do you have to go to the office?”

“No, but I need to catch up on some work,” Y/N answered with a shrug, “Other than that, I guess I’m just gonna chill here.”

“Lucky you,” Charlie stuck his tongue out playfully.

Later that day, when Charlie came back to Y/N’s apartment, he found her sitting on the floor with her chin resting on one of her knees. She always was sitting in the weirdest positions, and then she’d complain about back pain or having pins and needles in her legs. He thought it was cute because it was her way of finding the best position to concentrate on her work.

“You’re gonna end up with back pain, my love,” Charlie warned her and sat on the floor next to her, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Char,” the girl said, turning her attention to the hazel-eyed boy. She laced her fingers behind his neck and pulled him closer, rubbing their noses together before pressing her lips to his in a welcoming kiss.

“I love you, you know that, right?” Charlie murmured against her lips. She hummed in response and he kissed her again.

“I love you too, baby,” she whispered back. 

They sat there in silence, while she finished with whatever project she was working on, and once she turned off her laptop, Charlie put on a movie.

“Are we gonna make the effort to cook dinner or do you wanna order something?” He asked, making himself comfortable on the couch and patting the spot next to him, inviting her to join him.

“I’m in the mood for pizza,” she told him and cuddled up next to her boyfriend. 

“Five minutes and I’ll call,” Charlie mentioned, wrapping his arms around Y/N and holding her tight against him. Her hair tickled him right in the nose, and he could smell the soft fragrance of her shampoo. “Is it mango or lemon?” He questioned after a while, grabbing a strand of her hair.

“Mango, do you like it?”

“Yeah! it smells great, babe.” Charlie pressed a kiss on top of her head and then struggled a bit to get hold of his phone.

After a quick call to the pizza place they always ordered from, they stayed on the couch, enjoying being in the arms of the other. It was small moments like that one, a movie playing on the tv, but their attention fixed on each other. Charlie loved to hear her laugh every time he tickled her or the funny faces she made whenever he faked pushing her off the couch.

“Pizza’s here!” She chirped when the ring bell resonated through the apartment, standing up quickly and making her way to the door.

“Do you want wine or beer?” Charlie asked, walking to the kitchen.

“Wine,” Y/N put the pizza box on the counter and pointed to the small wine cabinet, “my mom sent me one the other day and she said it was perfect for pizza and pasta.”

“No plates, babe,” Charlie mentioned when he saw his girlfriend trying to reach a couple of plates, “that way we only have to wash the glasses.”

“You’re getting lazy, Gillespie,” Y/N teased the boy, but did as he told her.

With a new movie playing on the tv, pizza, and a bottle of wine they sat again on the couch, bickering over small things like Charlie muttering the dialogues because he knows all the lines or the fact that Y/N can’t sit still while watching a movie.

“If you kick me one more time, Y/N,” he warned her, putting his glass of wine on the coffee table before she could make him spill it on the couch.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Y/N batted her eyelashes and pouted at her boyfriend, “What are you gonna do about it anyway?” 

“Y/N stop it,” Charlie warned again, but Y/N kicked his thigh again softly, it was more a nudge than a real kick. 

He glanced at her, a grin forming on his lips before he grabbed the girl by her feet and pulled her into a laying position, and attacked her sides with his fingers.

“No, Charlie!” The girl squealed, trying to move away from his hands, “please!”

“That’s not gonna work, my love,” he cackled, moving one of his hands up to her neck knowing that was her weak spot.

“Charlie!” Their laughter filled the room, and Y/N squirmed under the boy, “S’il te plaît, babe!”

“Oh! Tu parles français, mon amour.” Charlie knew his girlfriend only knew how to say a few things in French, please being one of them. He stopped his attack and left a soft kiss on her nose, before pressing their lips together in a kiss. 

Y/N pulled away from the kiss first, still short of breath because of the tickles, with a smile on her face, she brought her hands up to cup her boyfriend’s face and pulled him into a kiss again.

“I love you, my idiot,” she breathed against his lips, “now get off, you’re crushing me.”

“I love you too, mon amour.”

Charlie was about to get in bed when Y/N walked in with a towel wrapped around her body and her hair wet. He let out a sigh, too tired to complain now.

“Sit so we can’t get this done fast,” he pointed to the bed and plugged in the hairdryer. 

Sure, he was exhausted, but he loved to help his girl dry her hair, and be a part of her little night routine. That was one of the things he loved about her, she had a tendency to be unpredictable, but no matter what, she’d always take a shower before bed, take her time putting on lotions and skincare, and he’d always help her dry her hair if he was staying over. 

He loved the fact that he could tell if Y/N was laying next to him just by her fruity fragrance. He loved to help her relax at the end of the day, and somehow, drying her hair helped him relax too. 

After her hair was finally dry, he covered himself with the covers and sent a quick goodnight message to his family group chat, while he waited for his girl to finish her night routine.

“Vanilla or coconut?” She wondered, fumbling things in her nightstand drawer. He saw the two hand creams she was holding and smiled.

“Vanilla.”

She squeezed the tube to put cream on her own hands and then squeezed cream on his hands.

“You know I love your sexy guitarist hands, but we don’t like dry hands in this house,” Y/N commented with a sweet smile.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Charlie said, shaking his head in amusement. 

“Goodnight, Charlie,” the girl answered, cuddling next to him.

“I love you,” he wrapped an arm around her and closed his eyes, happy to spend another night next to the girl he loved so much.

“I love you too, babe.”

[midnightmoonkiss]

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.

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.

[inkedstarlight]

Bittersweet: Chapter Nine

Summary: Cassian and Nesta finally meet. Officially, this time. Let the romance commence. Notes: Read it here on AO3! Warnings: very brief/non-explicit mention of sexual assault Bittersweet Masterlist

“Earth to Nesta?”

Nesta snapped from her trance to see Emerie waving a hand in front of her face.

“You’ve been cleaning the same spot for a good ten minutes,” Emerie gestured to where Nesta was scrubbing the counter with a towel. It was squeaky clean.

Nesta let go of the towel and cleared her throat. “My bad.”

Emerie pulled out the chair on the other side of the counter and sat down. It was eleven in the evening on a Monday, and they had just closed. The only other person in Rita’s was Lucien, and he was doing dishes in the back.

“You’ve been acting weird for the past two weeks,” Emerie stated blatantly. Her stare was unwavering. “And you’ve lost at least ten pounds.”

The incidence with Tomas happened two weeks ago. Nesta was doing a pretty good job of moving on with her life all things considered. She felt like shit, but she hadn’t missed a single shift at work. That had to count for something.

But she should’ve known Emerie would notice. She was like a fucking hawk, that girl. She saw everything.

When Nesta didn’t say anything, Emerie shrugged and got up from the stool. “At least try a little harder,” she said, referring to the coworkers’ challenge to get the most tips. She shot Nesta a sad look. “Thesan is beating you. Thesan.”

Nesta mustered a laugh. Thesan wasn’t great with customers, that was common knowledge. Neither Emerie nor Nesta were people persons, but they knew how to turn it on for customers. Thesan, on the other hand, didn’t make much of an effort. It wasn’t that he was intentionally rude, the guy was just quiet in nature. In fact, he was quite a sweetheart.

Which was why it was quite entertaining to watch Thesan and Helion interact. Where Thesan was an introvert, Helion was loud as hell. Not to mention it was clear that Thesan was crushing on him. But unfortunately, Helion flirted with every living, breathing thing and was thus completely oblivious. During Nesta’s first week at Rita’s, Emerie had spilled all the tea about their coworkers. Thesan was head over heels in love with Helion, Helion had never been in a monogamous relationship, and Viviane… well, Viviane had her own little love story. A complicated one at that.

His name was Kallias. They grew up together, from scheming little kids to rebellious teenagers to young adults. Best friends since they could remember.

Because Emerie grew up in the same small town as them, she knew everything. They all went to school together. She knew that Kallias had been in love with Viviane since freshman year of high school. She knew that Viviane felt the same way, but she would never admit it thanks to the hell she was put through during her childhood. Nesta didn’t know the specifics, and she never asked.

It also didn’t help that Viviane was in a relationship with someone else. They’d been together for almost two years. Emerie thought Viviane deserved better, that he wasn’t a very good person.

Anyway, Kallias visited Rita’s nearly every weekend after his shift at the fire station to grab a drink and more importantly, see Viviane.

Nesta thought it was ridiculous. She’d told Emerie as much when she’d brought Nesta up to date on their coworkers’ lives. Why wouldn’t they just admit they loved each other and get on with it already? It was pretty fucking simple; they were just making it complicated for themselves. Emerie wholeheartedly agreed and the pair then went on an hour long rant on the idiocy of romantic relationships.

And if she was being honest, Nesta didn’t care much about these people. Sure, they were respectable but they were a temporary fixture in her life. Once she secured a job in her career field, she was going to leave them all behind.

“We should get a drink sometime. Outside of work,” Emerie clarified with a look of disgust. “I’m sick of it here.”

Nesta knew that was a lie based on the relationship Emerie had with Rita and her wife. But she didn’t say that.

“Maybe,” Nesta responded distractedly, desperate to think of an excuse. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Emerie; no, Nesta liked her coworker. She just couldn’t muster the energy to go out with friends or socialize like that. “I’m pretty busy right now though.”

Emerie narrowed her eyes and scrutinized her.

“Stop analyzing me.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

Emerie sighed and receded. She hesitated before saying quietly, “Is… is this the part when I ask if you’re okay and we get all deep and explore a new level of our friendship?”

Nesta slowly met her friend’s gaze. They stared at one another for several moments.

Then, they burst out laughing.

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

The next morning, Nesta was brewing her third cup of coffee when Elain padded into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” Elain yawned as a greeting. She wore bunny slippers and an oversized hoodie. Elain only had one evening class on Tuesdays, so today was her only day - save for the weekend - to sleep in.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“How long have you been up?”

Nesta glanced at the clock. It was nine-thirty. She’d woken up at six after a sleepless night of tossing and turning.

But she simply shrugged instead. “Not long.”

Nesta poured the coffee into her mug, sitting back down at the counter. She watched as Elain bustled around the kitchen, scrambling eggs and slicing fruit. The morning light spilled through the dusty kitchen sink window, bars of sunshine reflecting off the tiled floors. Iroh basked in the sunspots, his black fur glistening as his chartreuse eyes blinked closed.

Elain and Nesta hadn’t spent much time together in the past couple weeks. It was Nesta’s doing, of course. She was actively avoiding her sister and everyone else. After Elain had tried to talk to Nesta after the whole thing with Tomas, she stopped asking Nesta if she was okay. Nesta assumed that Elain realized she wasn’t going to get an answer, that there wasn't really a point in trying.

But Gods, Nesta fucking missed her. And even though she wanted nothing more than to retreat to her bedroom as she sat there in the kitchen, she didn’t move from the chair.

You need them as much as they need you, her father’s voice echoed in her head.

Guilt stabbed at her chest.

“How’re classes going?” Nesta asked quietly. Elain looked at her over her shoulder with a surprised yet pleasant smile.

“Great! I’m so grateful to be at such a great college, but…” Elain bit her lip, hesitating. “My bio lab is going to be the death of me."

“You know you’re allowed to complain, right?”

Elain just gave her a smile. “Yeah, I know. It's just, considering where I was a year ago, I couldn't be happier to finally be enrolled in such a prestigious program. Even if that means the classes are brutal."

I wish I was like you. I take everything for granted.

“And have you made any friends?”

Elain had started school at Pryth U months ago and yet Nesta had no idea if she even had friends yet.

Selfish bitch.

A fond smile broke out on Elain’s face. “Yes, I have this really great group of friends: Lucien, Ressina, and Varian. It's just the four of us, but we've gotten really close.”

Nesta asked Elain more questions before excusing herself back to her room, claiming she was going to try to write today, to which Elain squealed and wished her luck.

Nesta hadn't written since their dad died. Prior to his death, she would write nearly every day. She'd been working on a novel for years. The plot had came to her in middle school, and it just grew from there. She'd never told anyone about it. Everyone knows how fucking hard it is to get your writing published, much less get high ratings. Nesta wasn't even sure if she was going to finish it. This was the longest she'd gone without writing or editing it. And she had a feeling that she wouldn't ever go back to it.

Dread filled her stomach as she thought of that prospect. What the fuck was she doing with her life?

Nesta’s phone buzzed, and she fished it out of her back pocket.

 Incoming call from Feyre Archeron.

It kept buzzing, Nesta merely stared at her sister's name on her screen. She couldn't think of a single reason why Feyre would be calling. But she pressed "Accept" before it could go to voicemail.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

Silence.

“Uh, what’s up?” Nesta asked. She collapsed onto her unmade bed. Iroh scampered past the door and jumped on the bed with her. He didn't waste a minute curling himself around her head.

"I was calling to see… maybe, I don’t know… uh, would you want to come to dinner tonight?”

I was not expecting that. And Nesta was about 95% sure this was Elain’s doing.

“Why?”

“I want you there," Feyre told her as if it were obvious.

“Why?” Nesta asked again. She hadn't seen Feyre since Thanksgiving despite her sister living just on the outskirts of the city.

That had been weeks ago.

“It's complicated," Feyre responded quietly. She seemed to pause before finding the words. "I've been so worried about Cassian, we all have. He'd never been deployed for that long - five months. It was scary. I guess I took that out on you. I don't know why..."

She drifted off. Nesta held her breath.

"I'm sure Elain told you, but he's home now. I've been more myself since he returned, and I want you to come to dinner. I… miss you.”

She rubbed her temple. “I don’t know, Feyre.”

I don't know if I can pretend to be okay for an entire night. I don't know if you even fucking want me there or if you just feel obligated. I don't know if I can be in the same room as your douchebag boyfriend. I don't know if I can be surrounded by your friends, most of whom seem to dislike me. I don't know if I can behave like a normal fucking person.

I don't know.

“Please?” The plea was soft, quiet. It was like she was almost desperate. But for what?

Nesta looked out the window where a blue jay - their dad's favorite bird - was perched on a bare tree branch. The leaves had long ago fallen, leaving the world naked and vulnerable. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

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

Feyre embraced her with an awkward hug when Nesta and Elain walked into the house. Nesta patted her on the back lightly, uncomfortable with the physical touch. Luckily, no one else seemed incline to embrace her. Rhys actually seemed to make sure he was as far away as possible.

Elain, on the other hand, gave everyone a hug. Mor gave a laugh as she squeezed Elain back, Aurra watching them with a smile. Interestingly enough, when Elain greeted Azriel with a hug, his tanned cheeks glowed red. It was almost imperceptible, but Nesta noticed.

Feyre took a step back to assess her. Nesta could see the judgement in her sister's eyes as she took in Nesta's noticeably thinner body. Luckily, however, she wasn't given the chance to comment on it when Elain piped up, "Where's Cassian? Nesta still hasn't met him yet."

"He's running a bit late," Rhys answered, glancing down at his phone. "Should be here in about ten minutes."

Everyone began to make their way into the dining room and Nesta followed. However, she was quickly tugged to the side when Amren swooped in out of nowhere and basically dragged Nesta into the privacy of the hallway. She stopped, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at Nesta.

“Where have you been?” Amren demanded.

"What do you mean?" Nesta asked, playing dumb.

She hadn't spoken to Amren in a long time, even though they had each others' numbers. Even though Amren had repeatedly texted her, asking to get coffee or go for a walk or something else of the sorts. All of which went unanswered.

Amren rolled her eyes, and Nesta was convinced they went to the back of her head for a good minute. "Don't play dumb with me, Nesta."

“I don’t know, working?"

"Is that a question?" Amren rose a deadly brow.

Nesta huffed and mirrored Amren's angry stance. "Why are you interrogating me?"

“Because you've been radio silent for weeks. I had to ask Elain if you were still fucking alive," Amren explained. Then, she leaned in close like she didn't want anyone to hear. "I was worried about you, you bitch."

Nesta let out a sigh. "I'm sorry, okay? I've been busy. I do want to hang out, it's just that..." she trailed off.

"What? It's just that what?"

Nesta stared at the floor, unable to form words.

"Nesta, are you okay?" Amren asked, her voice softer.

Just tell her. Fucking tell her.

I was almost raped.

Just the thought was enough to make Nesta want to puke. She couldn't, it was too much and she wouldn't even be able to fucking say it and it's her fault, all her fault.

She breathed in through her nose and looked back up at Amren. She shot her the most fake smile she'd ever given. "I'm good. Seriously, I just got busy. It won't happen again."

Nesta saw the skepticism in Amren's eyes. But she conceded with a small sigh. "Well, don't do it again, okay? I seriously thought you were fucking murdered or some shit."

Nesta just nodded. Amren looked at her once more before gesturing with her chin back to the dining room. Nesta followed her.

When they rounded the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks.

Because sitting next to Feyre was the man who had tried to break into her apartment.

“Nesta!" Feyre exclaimed, calling her over from where she sat. "This is Cassian. Cassian, this is my sister, Nesta.”

Nesta simply stared at him like a deer in headlights and he stared at her, his lips parted in surprise. He was wearing a grey sweater, his long hair hanging down, no longer in a bun like it was the last time. He tucked it behind one ear.

"Are you stalking me or something?" Nesta said incredulously.

"I could ask you the same," Cassian retorted cheekily.

Feyre looked between them, a confused expression written on her face. "Do you guys know each other or something?"

"Something like that," Nesta mumbled.

Everyone's eyes were on them as they waited for an answer.

"Well as everyone knows, I live in the same building as Nesta and Elain," Cassian explained, waving a hand to the two sisters. "The other night, I got stupid drunk with a friend. He drove me back to my place and me, drunk off my fucking ass, tried to get into their apartment thinking it was mine."

The entire room erupted into laughter, Rhys choking on his food and Azriel looking up as if reasoning with the Gods.

"So when Nesta opened the door," Cassian continued, "she nearly beat me to death with a baseball bat."

Another round of laughter.

"Overreact much?"

Everyone's eyes flew to where Nesta sat. They seemed shocked. Nesta was too.

She didn't know why she said it, why she let it bother her. He was just so fucking frustrating, even his mere presence.

Cassian stuck his tongue out at her.

Feyre interrupted, her jaw agape. "You guys are acting like children."

Nesta got quiet after that. The conversation continued, thankfully taking the attention off her. As everyone laughed and conversed, Cassian looked over at her. His smile disappeared when he met Nesta's gaze. She just stared back at him, lips in a thin line. He seemed to try to gauge her reaction carefully, but her face was blank.

And so the night went on. Nesta didn't say another word after what happened. She avoided eye contact with Cassian. Avoided conversation with everyone.

It was half past eight when they all began clearing their dishes. Mor, Aurra, Azriel, and Cassian were all gathered in the kitchen cleaning up. Feyre and Rhys had excused themselves. It was just Nesta and Elain who remained in the dining room.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Nesta leaned over to whisper to Elain.

Elain nodded. "We'll head out right after, yeah?" She must've noticed the exhaustion in Nesta's face.

Nesta agreed, excusing herself from the table.

She walked down the hallway, peeking through every door to find the bathroom. She was about to push through a door on the left that was slightly cracked open when she heard voices coming from within.

“I’m worried about him. He’s not the same.” It was Feyre.

“He never is when he comes home, Feyre," Rhys said dejectedly. "It’s happened before. Cass just needs time.”

Cass.

Nesta tiptoed closer to the door, just enough for her to listen.

“No, what he needs is to see someone!”

“I’ve tried. He doesn’t want to go.”

“Try harder, Rhys!” Feyre cried, her tone frustrated.

“We can’t just force him to go, okay?”

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing? Do you even notice how lost your own fucking brother is? Do you even care?!”

Silence.

“Rhysand, I’m sorry. Gods, I’m so sorry. I know you care. More than anyone. I just… I don’t want to lose him.”

She heard them both breathing deeply.

“C’mere,” Rhys murmured. Nesta heard Feyre's footsteps as she presumably walked toward him.

“We’ll figure it out, okay?”

“Together.”

“Always, Feyre darling.”

They got quiet, probably embracing each other. Nesta crept away from their bedroom door and into the bathroom before they could find her.

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

Elain and Nesta had just unlocked their apartment door when Nesta groaned. “Oh, shit, I forgot my wallet in the car." She fished around in her bag to make sure it wasn't in there. "I’ll be right back.”

"I'll leave the door unlocked," Elain called behind her as Nesta made her way to the elevator.

She stepped between the doors, hitting the button for the parking garage. Gods, she just wanted to go to sleep. The night had been exhausting.

After a minute or so, she was approaching her car. She unlocked her door and grabbed her wallet that was in the middle console when a pair of headlights flashed past her, a car pulling into the spot next to her.

Before panic could set in, Nesta recognized who was driver the car through the window.

Cassian.

His car turned off and he emerged from the driver's door just a moment later. He looked over where Nesta was clutching her wallet to her chest staring at him. He gave her a tight-lipped smile before turning away and walking towards the elevator. Nesta had no choice to follow.

She walked just a few feet behind him as they made their way to the elevator.

"I'm sorry," Cassian told her, his voice sincere. He cast a concerned glance her way. "For embarrassing you at dinner. And if I scared you that night."

"You didn't embarrass me," Nesta snapped at him. "You were just being annoying as hell."

His entire body seemed to relax at her insult. Cassian tried to hide his smirk but failed. "I'm glad to see you're still your normal, hotheaded self. You got me worried at dinner with your stoic behavior."

Now she really glared at him. "Don't talk like you know me. You don't."

"Oh, sweetheart," he teased. "I think we're more similar than you think."

She scoffed. "I think that hubris of yours will be your downfall."

"You know, it's quite sexy when you use literary devices to insult me," he joked.

Nesta froze.

Was he coming onto her? Chills ran down her spine when she thought of the last time a man expressed interest in her.

It's not the same, she tried to convince yourself. He's not Tomas.

Cassian must've expected a heated response to his comment because he looked surprised when Nesta simply stared straight ahead. She seemed to be in a world of her own, oblivious to everything around her. Any trace of anger was gone, replaced by a cool indifference.

Cassian's face fell. "Nesta, I didn't mean to - "

He was cut off as the elevator door dinged opened and Nesta swiftly walked out.

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[ladyanaconda]

Irken of the Opera #2- First Meeting

Daily Irk

Akru 8th edition.

UP-AND-COMING PERFORMER VANISHES 

Irk’s famous Lythikos Mausoleum is known for granting entertainment and keeping our mighty Empire’s culture alight. Today wouldn’t have been different, but the gala’s star, Tenn Sakhak, has mysteriously vanished from her dressing room. Security has searched under every crack and crevice in the mausoleum, but she is nowhere to be found. 

Rumors say that she’s been spirited away by the infamous ‘Phantom of the Mausoleum’. This mysterious character has already generated quite the controversy throughout the Mausoleum. Though nobody’s ever seen him in person, some dancers or staff claim to have glimpsed him in Box Five or moving through the rafts in a black cloak. 

Real or myth, there’s really no proof that miss Sakhak was kidnapped. After a thorough check up in her dressing room, the authorities didn’t find any signs of struggle or fight. In fact, witnesses have stated that she never even left her dressing room and no one went in, bringing more questions.

Where has miss Sakhak gone? 

                                                          X-X

Tenn awoke groggily, rubbing her forehead as her vision adjusted to the lack of light. Her head was throbbing. Owowow. What happened? All she remembered was getting herself ready for the performance in her dressing room, then someone coming from behind and putting a cloth over her mouth. She tried to fight, but…

As her vision adapted, Tenn examined her surroundings. She was in a nicely decorated room. Violet and purple carpets hung from the walls, and there were lots of cushions with matching colors. Her own bed was a wide with a mauve duvet and nice, comfortable pillows. In fact, There were lots of candles spread around the cave. 

She had no idea of how she got there, but she did know she had to return to her dressing room and get ready. Damn it, Red was going to have a heart attack if she didn’t show up!

As she got off the bed, Tenn heard the unmistakable sound of an organ being played. So someone did live here. Perhaps they could tell her what’s going on and how she got to this place. 

The entrance of the ‘room’ led to an even bigger room also illuminated with candles, a few lamps and decorated in shades of purple. Whoever lived there must really love that color. A magnificent chandelier hung from the ceiling, bathing the place in colorful lights. The music was coming from an large ivory organ in one side of the room; its pipes glistened with pink and gold light from the chandelier. 

A tall Irken dressed in a white long-sleeved shirt under a black vest and jacket with matching black pants sat in front of the organ; his fingers gracefully flew over the keys and pressed them rhythmically. Tenn had heard people playing the piano or the organ at the elitist events she often attended, but this man made them all look like amateurs. 

“Excuse me?” 

His reaction was almost comical: slamming his hands on the organ’s keys, thus bringing his music to an abrupt halt, the Irken jumped off his seat and turned around abruptly, his lekku straight. His wide purple eyes were fixed on her. Now that she saw his face, Tenn noticed the right half was concealed under a white half-mask. 

Wait a minute. Purple eyes, white half-mask… She had heard the gossips and rumors about him, but she’s never really paid any attention to them. 

“You are the Phantom.” Tenn deduced. 

“T-Tenn! You’re awake!” What the-?! She wasn’t supposed to wake up until much later! Didn’t he use enough chloroform? damn it, he wasn’t ready! sweet Irk, what to do now? “I…” Purple chuckled nervously as he pulled on the collar of his shirt. 

Okay, he could do this. He’s been talking to her all this years. The only difference was that there wasn’t a mirror between them anymore. Purple took a deep breath. 

“I’m glad you’re finally awake, my dear.” He said, calmly this time, offering Tenn a smile.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Tenn insisted. “You’re the Phantom of the Opera, aren’t you?”

“That is one of the names I’m called, yes, but you know me better as your Angel of Music.” 

Angel of Music? That couldn’t be, he wasn’t real. He was just a figment of her imagination that she made up as a smeet to have someone to talk with in her loneliness… At least, that’s what she told herself all these years. But his voice was so familiar, and all those singing lessons… they couldn’t be a figment of her imagination. could they? 

“Would you like to take a seat, my dear? You look a bit pale.” Tenn stepped back when he took a few steps forward.

“I’m f-fine, I’m just… processing it.” Tenn said quickly. “But you’re the infamous Phantom too. The one who hung the stagehand backstage!” 

It took Purple every ounce of self-control not to panic again. He had been hoping she wouldn’t bring that particular topic up. “Just for the record, it was an accident.” He clarified. “A rather tragic accident. He drowned in the lake and I just put him there.”

“Lake? What lake?” Tenn blinked as she recalled what she wanted to ask in the first place. “Where are we?” 

“Oh, right!” Purple spread out his arms, gesturing to his surroundings. “Welcome to my humble abode and your new home, my dear!” 

Tenn glanced at the chandelier. I wouldn’t call it humble, she thought. “Right. And where are we, exactly?”

“Under the Opera house, of course!” 

Tenn stumbled back a bit, blinking. “Under the opera house? Are you kidding me?”

Purple’s smile faltered a bit. “Well, it’s not like someone like me can just rent an apartment in the neighborhood, right? It’d attract…” he turned away, hiding the masked half of his face from view. “…Unwanted attention.” 

Tenn did sit down in the nearest chair this time. Resuming: she’s with the fucking Phantom of the Opera, who turned out to be her ‘imaginary’ friend and mentor,  in a big house underneath the Opera House. It almost felt like she was having a very weird dream. 

“Okay… So why did you bring me here?” 

“I…” this is it, what he had been waiting for for years. He took a deep breath. “I love you,” Purple finally confessed, kneeling before his beloved. “I brought you here out of love, my dear Tenn! Ever since I first heard you sing, I wanted you, needed you here with me to compliment my music.” 

Tenn stepped back warily. “Love?” She frowned. “You have quite an odd way of showing it, considering you kidnapped me.” 

“I had no choice. You wouldn’t have come willingly.” Admittedly, he was right. She wouldn’t have. “I apologize for deceiving you, forgive me!”

“How can I when I barely even know what kind of man you are?” Tenn retorted, frowning. “Have you heard the saying ‘never trust someone who hides his face? Let me see you.” 

As she reached out for his mask, however, his hand grasped her wrist with a tight grip, his expression darkening. 

“Don’t touch the mask. Ever.” The tone in which he spoke sent shivers down her spine. “As long as you don’t touch it, you’ll have nothing to fear from me.” He stepped back from her, his mood lightening again. “Besides, what matters isn’t the face, but the heart,” he placed a hand over his chest. “And mine is filled with love for you.”

Tenn wasn’t satisfied with that. What’s the big deal? It couldn’t be that bad, could it? Besides, if he actually wanted something serious with her, he’d eventually have to show her his face, anyway. Was it such a sensitive topic for him? Then again, she had heard rumors that the Phantom’s face was so horrible that it haunted one’s nightmares for a long time. 

“What are you afraid of? I’m your prisoner, remember?” Tenn pointed out matter-of-factly. 

“You’re a prisoner of love, my dear. I’m not that bad once you get to know me!” Purple insisted. She didn’t look convinced, though. What to do now to break the ice…? “You must be hungry. Follow me, I’ve prepared something tasty for you!” 

Tenn wasn’t sure she wanted to eat anything made by him (part of her considered he might poison it or something). Following him into a small dining hall, the Phantom pulled out the chair for her to sit. Well, at least he was a gentleman. 

Admittedly, the soup he made was tasty. He hadn’t even gone out of the room when she practically devoured it along the bread, cheese and fruit in the table. If anything, Purple was a good cook. 

                                                           X-X

The following days, things started a bit… rocky, to say the least. 

Tenn tried to escape a few times, but Purple’s home was like a labyrinth and she always ended up returning back to the main room, much to her chagrin. And no matter how many times she demanded or even asked nicely that he take her back to the surface, he always refused. She tried following Purple when he left to run his opera house, but always ended up getting lost and returning to where she started. Then she’d vent off in the cushions imagining they were Purple’s head. 

Despite this, Purple was nice. He acted gentle and kind, never raising his hand against her not doing anything to hurt her. He spoke sweetly and left her a rose every day as she slept. Other times, he entertained her with some of his magician skills, or played the organ for her. 

He hoped that, in time, she’d grow to love him through these small details. 

After a while, Tenn grew somewhat comfortable with her captor. She was mostly impressed by his refinement, culture, and gentlemanly manners for someone who’d lived underground most of his life. Purple demonstrated to be a talented architect, magician, technician, illusionist (this part wasn’t so surprising), and, surprisingly, painter.

But his greatest passion was his music. Purple was a gifted composer and he’d play anything she asked; the way he performed the Requiem for Cyanin, The Conquest of Vort and even the Fall of the Springgas had no comparison.

One morning, though, she casually saw him working on blank music sheets. Every now and then he’d write on them, only to cross them out seconds later and write something else. 

Tenn tip-toed from behind to take a look at it. She managed to read the words Soliloquy before Purple suddenly put the sheets into the desk’s drawer. 

Damn it, when did she get behind him?! He quickly hid his work before she could see it completely. 

“Don’t.” Purple warned her sternly.

“What was that? Is it another opera?”

“It’s… something I’ve been working on, but it's not ready. It’s still not finished. Besides,” Purple’s expression became pained. “It’s not something I want you to hear.”

“Why not?” Tenn inquired.

“Because it burns.” Purple said darkly. “It burns with a fire not from heaven. You’re lucky not to come to that kind of music yet.” 

Tenn felt a shiver down her spine. “If you say so…” her lekku straightened up as she saw something in the corner of her eye. A tiny, hairy, six-legged-!

Purple swore his heart almost went up to his throat when Tenn shrieked and he felt a new weight in his arms. It took him a few seconds to realize she had jumped into his lap and was now clinging to his neck. His cheeks felt hot. 

“What the-? What’s wrong?!”

“There’s an antula over there!” Tenn pointed at said spider-like bug walking calmly on top of the table. “Kill it!”

“But it’s harmless.”

“I don’t care, it’s nasty!”

Sighing, Purple placed Tenn on his seat and went to deal with the problem. He took a blank paper sheet, but instead of rolling it up to squash the antula, he gently led it to walk on it and then placed the critter on the wall so it could go back to its cobweb.

Tenn just couldn’t believe it. “What are you doing?! I told you to kill it, not let it go!” 

“For your information, those critters are the closest things I’ve had to companions over the years.” Purple said simply. “Besides, it did nothing to you.”

“I swear, Purple, if that thing crawls on top of me at night, I’ll kill you!” Purple shivered in delight at the show of temper. 

“I’ll take your word for it, my dear.”

[artemiswinnick]

Eli’s Coming

I was tagged in a Songfic challenge by @gemini0410 and @vicmackeybullshxt and given Eli’s Coming by Three Dog Night:

https://open.spotify.com/track/29k9SMi3bZi1lhbGBLcpwI?si=RPbxRxUwTpCuQeVBSeZfvw

This song gave me some hella Supernatural vibes and I had a little blurb lying around in my drafts from years ago, so I decided to edit it and extend it inspired by the song. Please don’t ask me how this fits into canon or anything, because I genuinely have no idea. I think I just felt like Dean really needs a hug, ya know? 

Warnings: Explicit language, references to violence, taking the lord’s name in vain and twisting around the Old Testament to suit my fictional needs. 

The fire blazed higher and suddenly went out. There was a pitch-dark blackness.

“Is that supposed to happen—?” Sam cut off as the flame rose again, burning quietly now, illuminating two girls. Their vessels were a pair of twins—one in a night dress, the other dressed for a night out on the town. They peered at the brothers and the angel expressionless, the infinity in their eyes in stark contrast to the youth of the bodies they inhabited.

“Aladril? Adriel?” Castiel asked, stepping forward.

“You summoned us, Castiel?” They asked in unison, haloed by soft blue flames.

“Well, that’s creepy...” Dean muttered under his breath.

“We need your help,” Castiel ignored him, addressing the twin angels.

“You know that we cannot help you.” The angel in the clubbing outfit replied.

“You should not have woken us.” Said the other, adjusting her white nightgown grumpily before looking at her sister’s get up. “This is the fashion of the time? Either a sack or a prostitute's corset—?”

“What do you mean you can’t help us?” Dean cut in, uninterested in allowing the angels any time to adjust to their vessels. Castiel tried to hold him back but he shook him off and stepped forward. “No, Cas, what was the point in summoning the Bopsy twins if they’re not even going to—?”

“We went to sleep for a reason.” They said loudly, speaking together again. Now, they both looked irritated as they turned to Castiel. 

“We know you don’t believe us,” Said the one in the night gown. “But there’s a war brewing and if we stay it will only strengthen their resolve in continuing.”

Cas shook his head. “That’s what I’m trying to say. Adriel, the war has already started, even with the both of you asleep. We’re… We’re losing. We’re desperate. If you don’t help us, it won’t be only the humans that are wiped out but angels as well. That includes you.”

The twins frowned slightly. 

“What?” Aladril’s eyebrows knitted together worriedly even as she tugged at her corset top. “... Seriously, what century are we in? Have corsets come back into fashion—?”

“The demons are working on finding a way into heaven. When they do, they’ll find you there and slaughter you along with the rest of the host.” Castiel squared his shoulders and fixed them both with his gaze. “We need your help.”

“Do you expect us to fight alongside you?” Aladril asked slowly.

“As we did when you were but a fledgling, Castiel?” Adriel raised one eyebrow— it was starting to become easier for Sam and Dean to tell the two apart and it wasn’t just the hilarious outfits. Aladril spoke slowly, her expression calm and patient while her words poured like honey into their ears. Adriel, for as soft as her nightgown looked, had a voice that sang like a knife’s edge, her mouth twisting into a smirk as she watched Castiel blush thinking of their first battles. “You were so cute back then, full of such innocent purity…”

“Listen, as much as we’d love to join you all for a trip down memory lane,” Sam finally lost his patience. “But we have… need of your assistance. We’re planning an offensive on the demons in a week--.”

“Absolutely not,” Aladril shook her head. “We don’t harm humans.”

“But they aren’t humans! They’re demons--!” Dean exclaimed.

“In human vessels, much like these,” Adriel looked down at her current form. “Or have you forgotten that-- Castiel what are these two called?”

“That one’s Dean, and the other is Sam,” He quickly clarified.

“Dean,” Adriel turned the blond man’s name over in her mouth like it was venom on her tongue. “Humans have such stupid names…”

“Right, because Adriel and Aladril for a pair of twins isn’t just as stupid or confusing,” He retorted. The flames around the angel burned brighter suddenly.

“How dare you--”

“Are these the archangels you promised us, Cas? Really? Two girls in high school?” Dean shook his head, enjoying the expression of fury on the celestial being’s face.

“Excuse me?” Adriel’s voice grew dangerously low. 

“Adriel-“ Aladril tried to hold her back but her sister was incensed. She stepped out of the circle of flames easily, undeterred by the celestial fire. Dean crossed his arms.

“These two girls have been waging holy war since before you were a twinkle in the Creator’s eye, human,” She spit out. “I could kill you with my bare hands, even in this stupid vessel--”

“Adriel!” Aladril cut her off, “We just told them we don’t harm humans!”

“We could always make an exception for this one,” Adriel muttered, but backed off.

“I- We apologize.” Aladril said, shooting a look at Adriel who crossed her arms. “But, like my sister said, we are very old and with age comes experience. We will not be joining you in battle, Castiel. Isn’t there any other way we can help you?”

“I-- Well… Sam, had a question,” Castiel supplied, his face fallen.

“Go ahead,” Aladril motioned for Sam to step forward.

“Well,” He cleared his throat. “We captured one of the demons recently, interrogated him--.”

“Tortured,” Adriel coughed into her fist, getting looks from everyone around the room. She raised an eyebrow at them all. “Let’s call a spade a spade, gentlemen. Continue.”

“We left him securely tied up, all the right incantations in place but he got loose when we were switching shifts guarding him and… well, he decapitated his own vessel so he’d get sent back down to hell,” Sam finished uncomfortably, feeling the angel’s expressions of judgement settling on him. 

“... Alright?” Adriel frowned. “I don’t see what--.”

“He drew runes on the wall in Hebrew before he did that in his own blood,” Sam continued. “It translates to… Eli is coming.”

That got their attention. The twins snapped their focus to the tall man with long dark hair.

“What did you say?” Aladril hissed.

“I said Eli’s coming,” Sam repeated. “The demon wrote that on the wall in his own blood—.”

“Yes, yes that Eli is coming…” Adriel stepped forward out of the flames again, peering up into his eyes. “I’m assuming you killed this demon?”

“Uh...Yes?” Dean answered, quizzically looking between the angel and his brother who were locked in a staring match. Her infinite eyes moved to his, an expression of rage and annoyance marring her features.

“Well, fucking wonderful!” She exclaimed.

“Adriel, language!” Her sister admonished.

“Oh, don’t chastise me, Aladril, I think you know the expletive is warranted!” Adriel turned to her sister. “They’ve been cursed and they don’t even know it!”

“Cursed?” Sam frowned. 

“Listen lady, we’re pretty familiar with curses, alright?” Dean waved his hand dismissively. “So why don’t you just tell us what we’re dealing with so we can grab the eye of newt and a root of cabbage or whatever the fuck we need to break it—.”

Adriel spun around on him, the flames bursting up and making him stumble back away from her.

“What you need is the blood of the demon that cursed you!”

“Well, fuck…” Sam cursed quietly. Dean’ nostrils flared as he crossed his arms. 

“You mean… but the Book of Samuels was always considered to be an exaggeration—,” Castiel stuttered, an uncharacteristic sight. Aladril looked to him with sympathy.

“Unfortunately, it’s quite the contrary… The actual curse of Eli was much more powerful than the story Metatron fed the prophet.”

“But why would he lie? It’s— it’s in the old testament! The humans have been telling themselves this story for thousands of years—!”

“It cast a bad light on God’s everlasting wisdom and judgment?” Adriel shrugged. “We tried telling you even some in the host could not be trusted—.”

“Do you all want to sign each other’s yearbooks or something?”  Dean exclaimed. “Or can we do that after you help us lift the curse?”

Adriel crossed her arms and looked to her sister.

“I say we let them die. This one’s annoying.”

“Adriel!” Her sister exclaimed.

“Die?” Sam choked out. “What the hell is the curse of Eli, exactly?”

“Well, the family-friendly version was written in the book of Samuels,” Aladril began. “Eli was the high-priest of the Hebrews, he and his family were cursed to never live to an old age due to the misdeeds of his sons...”

“Misdeeds like… cheating at poker?” Dean prompted, earning an elbow from Sam..

“Misdeeds like taking prime cuts of meat from temple offerings and committing adultery with the women who served at the sanctuary entrance,” Adriel replied dryly.

“Right, those kinds of misdeeds…” Dean rolled his eyes. “So we’re supposed to freak out because we won’t live to an old age? I wasn’t expecting to do that either way…

“But you said that was the family friendly version…” Sam brought up,  looking to the angels. 

“Yes, well… one of Eli’s sons tried to break the curse by bargaining with a demon,” Aladril revealed. “Who, in, the guise of helping him, actually amplified the curse.  Now it wouldn’t just kill Eli and his sons— it would damn them for eternity. In hell with Lucifer.”

“Oh… Oh, shit,” Sam rubbed at his face. “I know where this is going—.”

“But… how long do we have before it takes… effect?” Castiel asked slowly.

“Depends on what else the demon did— curses can be personalized. If you change the wording,” Adriel explained

“Yeah, we know,” Dean addressed her snappily. “So. What do we do?”

The angel fixed her eyes on him..

“Now? Well, now we hold hands, Dean.”  She grinned, her teeth sharp and glistening in the blue fire light.

—————-

A half hour later, Dean was seated, criss-cross apple-sauce style next to Sam in a circle with Adriel and Aladril. Adriel sat to his right and reached a hand towards his, smirking.

“Is this really necessary?” He grumbled as she twined her vessel’s slender fingers with his, smooth and cool to the touch.

“Not really, but it makes it easier,” Aladril replied, reaching one hand to Sam and the other to her sister. “We need to read your souls.”

“You can do that?” Sam asked, staring at the two archangels in wonder. Dean wished he’d wipe that expression off his face. Sure, these two weren’t exactly like all the other angels they’d met-- even other archangels. They’d stepped in and out of the ring of celestial fire earlier like the flames were nothing more than chalk on a sidewalk... He had to admit it had impressed and terrified him in equal measure. They seemed to radiate power, even in their young vessels, but not just power… Goodness. Truth. Mercy. All of the cheesy shit he used to believe angel’s stood for. It made Dean suspicious of them, despite how highly Castiel had spoken of them before. 

“You don’t trust angels,” Adriel said suddenly, looking him in the eye.

“So, when you say that you can read our souls, what you really mean is read our minds?” Dean asked sourly, yanking his hand from hers. 

“I was just guessing, based on your behavior,” She extended her hand back to him innocently. He took it with a heavy sigh. He didn’t have much of a choice, did he?

~Liar~ he thought, in hopes she would hear it. She frowned slightly, making him smirk. ~Can’t read my thoughts, my ass...~

“Curses leave a mark on your soul. If we look hard enough we should be able to see what exactly they did to you and your brother,” Aladril continued explaining to Sam.

“Neat trick,” He smiled a little. The angel smiled rather proudly back.

“It’s a talent we perfected a long time ago, when we were still fighting on behalf of the heavenly host.”

“It’s probably why Castiel woke us and not, I don’t know… anyone else,” Adriel muttered.

Castiel, leaning against the far wall, shrugged.

“A lot has changed since you first went to sleep, we were out of options.”

Adriel locked eyes with him from across the room, reading the deep sadness in his eyes. He really had changed so much.

“You’ll have to catch us up as soon as we’re done with this,” She murmured. He nodded quietly, looking down at the ground. Adriel cleared her throat. “Alright. Sister, when you’re ready.”

Aladril squeezed her hand and closed her eyes. The boys watched them sway gently back and forth like grass in a light summer breeze, a quiet hum like electric static rising, emanating from them. That same static seemed to seep from their palms, tingling down the men’s fingertips, up their arms, into their chests, up into their minds…

Dean felt exposed. This was not the first time someone had allegedly “read his soul.” Famine, one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, had done so once and reported that his soul was a withered, starving mess. He wondered what Adriel was seeing. Deep down, he didn’t dislike these angels, even if he was frustrated they wouldn’t help fighting the demons. But it was almost refreshing to see they actually cared for human life, even the lives of the demons' vessels. Not even he and Sam cared all that much about it anymore. It was impractical, he always argued with himself,  you couldn’t fight demons effectively if you were worried about their vessels. But he could remember a time when they’d cared. When hunting was just about protecting people and not saving the whole world and heaven to boot. 

“You’ve been cursed to die in your next battle,” Adriel suddenly spoke, her voice strange. Dean’s eyes snapped open and he was shocked to see tears in her eyes when she looked back at him. 

“Our hit on the shipment is in a week…,” Sam said.

Aladril nodded, eyes opening slowly. “We need to find the demon that cursed you and perform a cleansing ritual with his blood before you go anywhere near the shipment. There’s sure to be fighting and the curse will kill you immediately.”

Adriel stood suddenly.

“I-- uh, my vessel… She’s thirsty.” She looked down to Dean with a stare that reached into his soul.

“Take me to some water?” She asked, her voice a whisper.

For reasons unknown, he just nodded, standing slowly and leading her out into the bunker hallway. He’d just found out he had a week to live and the only way to remedy it was the blood of a demon currently partying it up in the depths of hell. His prospects, as per usual, were not looking good… but when the angel stepped out into the hallway with him, his imminent death was the last thing on his mind.

“You’re not actually thirsty, are you.” He stated rather than asked. Adriel shook her head, locking eyes with him. His mouth went dry and he looked at his feet. “What did you see?”

“Dean…” The way she said his name then made him look back up. She handled the word with care now rather than venom, her expression soft as she reached a hand up to his face. She shook her head slowly, examining his eyes. “You really have no idea, do you?”

“What? That my soul is a shriveled husk?” He tried to laugh it off, but it didn’t reach his eyes and he didn’t step away from her touch. There was something so comforting about the numbing static sinking into his cheek from her fingertips. 

“You believed Famine when he told you that, huh?” She shook her head sadly. Dean frowned.

“How did you know that--?”

“I just read your soul, Dean. I know a lot of things about you now,” She smirked softly, caressing his face before pulling him into a hug. It should have been awkward, he should have stepped away and made an inappropriate joke to break the tension but, for once, Dean trusted that the gesture was sincere. That the truth and goodness and compassion he felt emanating from Adriel was real. It felt like she was pouring it into him, filling him with mending light. He felt empty, but better somehow, when she finally stepped back. She locked eyes with him again. “Famine lied to you. Do you understand? Just like Michael lied to you. And Lucifer. They read your soul blinded by their own weaknesses, their vision warped by their own greed… What they saw was themselves mirrored in you. Don’t believe them.”

Dean nodded, his mouth falling open slightly. She really had read his soul. Or his mind. Or whatever she’d done.

“Why won’t you fight with us?” He finally asked after a long moment staring into her eyes. Her brows knit themselves, some of the ethereal warmth and love disappearing to be replaced with familiar annoyance.

“We’ve already done our share of fighting, Dean. We’ve seen too much--.”

“Or you’re just scared,” He cut her off. She may have the power to read his soul, but he wasn’t blind himself. There had to be a reason two such powerful beings refused to get involved in a fight and, seeing the fire in Adriel’s eyes, he had a hard time believing it was just their compassion for human life. “What happened before you went to sleep for eternity? Cas never told us.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“That’s because Castiel is pure of heart and knows better,” She appraised the man standing in front of her. In truth, she’d only agreed to the long sleep for Aladril. But… now was not the time to get into her and her sister’s past. She turned to go back into the room where Aladril, Castiel and Sam were waiting. “Come on. We don’t have very long and… Eli’s coming.”

[ao3porcelainstorm]

poison ivy & stinging nettles 19

On Ao3

Pairing: Sherlock/OFC

Rated: M

Warnings: eventual violence, torture, swears, adult themes (no explicit smut)

Chapter 18 - Chapter 20

Chapter 19- Willow

~~~

I used to love playing pretend when I was a boy. My sister and I would spend hours dreaming up impossible scenes to play in; dinosaurs, spacemen, anything you could imagine, we would come up with.

That’s what this has felt like- playing pretend. I don’t mind it, personally. Given all that has happened, it’s a bit nice to see my two dearest friends get on and enjoy a short break from solving crimes and dealing with Moriarty.

It’s just, unfortunately, the problem with playing pretend is that eventually your mum has to call you in for dinner and you’re thrown back into reality.

~~~

And if it was an open-shut case, I never would have known from the look on your face. Lost in your current like a priceless wine. - Willow (Taylor Swift)

~~~

“And what?” Amelia challenged a laugh on her lips, teacup in her lap and watching John in amusement. “You’re opening the present or so help me John Watson, I’ll tell Mrs. Hudson.”

The doctor lifted the bundle of perfectly wrapped boxes tentatively, giving the smallest one a shake.

“It doesn’t feel right,” he continued, and Amelia sent him a pointed look.

“I opened mine,” Sherlock commented, arms crossed, leaning back in his chair.

“You did?” John gaped at his friend in disbelief. “When?”

“A few nights ago,” Amelia waved her hand, not wanting to go into detail about her complete meltdown that first night. “And Mrs. Hudson opened hers yesterday. Just open it!”

Mrs. Hudson was gifted an all-expense paid spa trip to Bath with the three ladies she played cards with each week. The housekeeper had practically screamed with excitement, pulling Amelia into a tight hug, thanking her profusely before making phone calls to set up a date.

It was nice to have a bit of normal.

“Fine,” John grumbled, opening the first box.

All in all, he loved his gifts.

Two cashmere sweaters in navy and merlot, and an original 1st edition of Grey’s Anatomy.

He set the book aside and pulled Amelia into a hug, and even though he tried to blink away the tears in his eyes, she definitely saw them glisten.

No one mentioned the lapse in time often. Only when Sherlock was working on the case did he pepper he with questions. John talked about it even less, which was sweet, but no matter how much Amelia tried to pretend things were ok, she was still reeling from it all.

The Christmas decorations had come down after the New Year, leaving the apartment sparse when she returned, having left with it covered in lights and tinsel. The days were easing into February, while she was still waiting for January.

She’d started therapy the day before, at John’s insistence. Twice a week for the foreseeable future. The hope was that the sessions would unlock whatever secrets were hidden in her subconscious.

More than anything, though, she was tired of everyone looking at her like she was this fragile thing, waiting to shatter at the lightest touch.

She’d been home a little over a week now, and it was getting old. Amelia wasn’t one who did well with coddling.

Even her mother had become almost unbearable. Constantly calling and texting.

The only person she had the energy to deal with was Sherlock. He was careful not to overstep his boundaries, but also read her like a book when she was uncomfortable.

He’d insisted on accompanying her anywhere she wanted to go, including the shops when she decided to pick out a new winter coat.

It was nice.

Amelia had always enjoyed spending time with both John and Sherlock alone, but while John felt like an older brother, Sherlock gave her butterflies whenever he spoke.

Greg had been sweet enough to avoid calling him in unless absolutely necessary. And on the one occasion he did, Sherlock made sure Amelia was left with Molly at the hospital. Safe and secure while he and John went to the crime scene.

Otherwise, Sherlock was always at her side. But it wasn’t as smothering as anyone else. He didn’t nitpick and ask her how she was feeling or fetch her things because he pitied her. It was a natural presence, a little protective, but safe and warm.

Amelia had no problem falling back into old routines, sketching by the fire while Sherlock read and John worked through a crossword. It was what she needed.

Nighttime was the only thing that had changed drastically.

Ever since that first night in her room, Amelia and Sherlock had spent every night together, alternating between beds.

The first night in his room, Amelia had burrowed her face into his pillow, much to his amusement, trying to guess the elements of his cologne.

“I’ll never tell,” he teased when she listed a few common scents.

“I will figure it out,” she vowed.

And she did. He didn’t bother hiding the bottle and a quick google search revealed a blend of pine and light jasmine.

It certainly didn’t account for the smell of firewood, old books, and wool that seemed to be all his.

Neither of them had tried to name whatever this had turned into. There wasn’t “I love you’s” or kisses in the morning. They never had sex.

It felt like an entirely natural progression of things, granted, with the underlying context of kidnapping and memory loss. But Amelia didn’t mind. She was happy. Sherlock seemed happy. That was good enough for her.

She wasn’t so naive to assume that this would last forever, either.

They’d discussed it extensively, lying awake next to one another and dissecting potential plans that Moriarty had for the future and a grand reveal was the first idea they’d agreed upon.

It was coming. She didn’t know when or how, but it was.

Amelia just wanted to enjoy this little slice of joy that they had as long as she could. They could name things and have serious talks about the future, later on. For now, she was content in this vacation-like bliss.

~~~

“10... 9... 8...”

It was a small get together, Ruthie, Greg, Molly, and the residents of Baker Street, but it meant the world to Amelia.

John had pulled up a video of the New Year’s Eve celebrations, Mrs. Hudson had pulled out hats and noisemakers, and the plan was to count down until midnight.

“..2...1! Happy New Year!”

Laughing, kisses were peppered onto everyone’s cheeks. When Amelia passed Sherlock, he linked his finger with hers, giving her a small smile when she glanced curiously in his direction.  

Turning around, she pecked a kiss on his cheek, tapping the tip of his nose with a finger, before returning to the others.

More than anything, Amelia wanted to grab him by the shoulders and kiss him like she meant it. But they hadn’t even discussed their unspoken thing or shared the first kiss at all.

So, she held her composure and sent him smiles whenever he looked in her direction.

Greg and Molly left after Mrs. Hudson announced that she needed sleep. Ruthie was offered Amelia’s bed, but the women stayed up in the flat with John, splitting a bottle of gin and laughing next to the fire.

“Christ, I needed this,” Ruthie leaned her head back, resting up against Amelia's legs hanging from the sofa.

“No kidding,” Amelia murmured, taking the bottle from John and taking a large swallow. Making a face and handed it to Ruthie. “Gin. Awful.”

“Gets better the longer you drink it,” John voiced, sprawled over his chair.

“Tastes like a liquid pine tree,” Amelia grumbled.

“I bet you like rum or whiskey,” Ruthie held up the bottle to John.

“Bloody Americans,” John rolled his eyes. “Terrible taste in everything.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Amelia fell back, throwing a pillow over her head for effect. “Deep-fried Oreos are the shit.”

“Deep-fried... Oreos?” Ruthie poked her in the leg, the gin bottle making a return. “I love Oreos.”

“They’re like, deep-fried in pancake batter,” Amelia explained, popping back up. “It makes them all gooey and amazing.”

“Holy shit,” Ruthie paused. “We need to make some.”

“Not in my kitchen,” Sherlock threw blankets around the room, snagging the gin from Ruthie and taking a sip for himself.

“Sher...lock,” Amelia slurred, putting emphasis on the final “k”. “There are eyeballs and a human tongue in the freezer.”

“We can make Oreos,” John held up a hand.

“Deep-fried Oreos,” Amelia clarified with a wavering finger. “A very important distinction.”

“You’ll burn the flat down, no,” Sherlock countered.

“Not right now,” Amelia laughed. “Silly Sherlock. We don’t have Oreos.”

“Which is a tragedy,” Ruthie complained, stealing back the gin and finishing what was left. She grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders like a cocoon, tackling Amelia onto the sofa. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”

“Me too,” Amelia snickered, pressing a sloppy kiss on her cousin's cheek.

“Ugh, gross, you slobbered on me,” Ruthie dropped back, wiping at her cheek in disgust.

“You got emotional, consequences,” Amelia gestured above her, hand swaying while she examined it in the air.

What Sherlock first noticed was the way Ruthie stiffened at the sight of the vicious scarring and scabbing on her cousin's wrist. The second thing he noticed was the way Amelia went quiet when her drunken focus fell on the injury.

John let out a snore and Sherlock jumped up.

“Bed,” he announced, earning a chorus of complaints from Amelia and Ruthie. “You’ve both had plenty to drink. Happy New Year, bedtime.”

“I’m not moving,” Ruthie announced, curling up on the sofa, making it as difficult as possible for Amelia to crawl over her.

“Enjoy John and his snoring,” Amelia stumbled over the edge of the rug and caught herself in the doorway between the living area and kitchen. “Mmmm goodnight!”

“Don’t be loud!” Ruthie called once Amelia and Sherlock rounded the corner to his bedroom.

Sherlock had to redirect Amelia a couple of times, helping her navigate the hallway without smashing her head or breaking anything. She dropped onto his bed with a long sigh.

“What?” he stood over her, brow quirked.

“I think you’re right,” she answered, eyes opening to look at him. “Your bed is the best.”

“I’m never wrong,” he answered, dropping next to her with a soft thud.

“So very humble,” she rolled toward him, amusement in her eyes. “You’re the humblest guy I know, Sherlock Holmes.”

He turned his head to better see her, his chest hammering once he realized how close her face was to his.

Was this the right time? They’d both had a bit to drink and he didn’t want to escalate things to an inappropriate level until they were sober and-

Amelia pressed her lips against his, her fingers threading their way through his curls.

He pulled her closer, hand cupping her cheek while he reciprocated in turn. It felt like everything the movies and books he’d read about said a kiss was supposed to be.

His brain felt like it’s erupted in fireworks, and the rest of his body-

“Oh,” he pulled away, clearing his throat. She leaned on her elbow, watching him try to adjust his pants.

“I didn’t mean to get you all fired up,” she smirked up at him. “I feel a little powerful right now.”

He turned to her, scowling at her words. Cruel. She was being mean and enjoying it.

If he half a mind- nope. Gentleman. He was a gentleman and he was going to change into his sleeping pants and go to sleep. He announced as much, stood up, and locked himself in the bathroom with a change of clothes until he pulled himself together.

He stared at his reflection, hands gripping the sides of the sink. Gentleman.

If things came to that, he’d make sure it was right.

Groaning, he threw his night clothes on and returned to the room.

Amelia was on her back, snoring loudly, having only managed to change into an oversized shirt.

Running a hand down his face, Sherlock pushed her aside and threw himself onto his side of the bed.

Amelia rolled onto him, arms snaking around his waist and her hips against his.  

Gentleman.

~~~

“Mrs. Peacock, in the library with...” Amelia shuffled through her notes. “The rope!”

Sherlock lowered his hand and smirked.

“Nope,” he replied, popping the “p” and earning a fresh scowl from her.

“What do you mean, ‘nope’? You didn’t even open the packet,” she protested.

“I told you not to play him,” John mumbled, turning the page to his paper. “It never ends well.”

“It was Mrs. Peacock, and it was in the library,” he contended before flipping a card with his fingers. “But it wasn’t the rope.”

“But- you-,” Amelia scrambled through her notes and cards. “Impossible. Because then if you have the rope it had to have been the pistol.”

Sherlock handed her the envelope and with a litany of curses, sure enough, Mrs. Peacock, in the library, with the pistol.

“How did you...?” she stammered. “I didn’t... my cards...?”

“You touch the pieces you have at the beginning of the game,” he pointed out, lifting the tiny candlestick. “Unconsciously, of course, but you do. It’s an endearing tick, but sufficient to win.”

Amelia threw her cards into the game board, gaping at him in shock.

“I told you,” John sang, folding his newspaper. “You would have been better at Monopoly or Life.”

“I just...” Amelia shook her head, lifting the three cards from the envelope again. “I’ve never lost at this game before.”

“It is easier when it’s only two people,” Sherlock tried to offer but she shook her head.

“No. This is-,” she sat back into the sofa with a sigh. “I’m going to have to think about this. Restrategize.”

“It isn’t chess,” John chuckled.

“No, this is far more serious John,” she looked up at him firmly. “I’m going to beat him.”

“Good luck,” Sherlock mumbled and she whipped her head in his direction.

“I’m going to. And you’re going to eat humble pie, accepting that I, Amelia Ophelia Brenner, am better than you at something,” she announced, hopping to her feet.

“You’re better at painting than I am,” he suggested. “This is a game based on observation and deduction. You can’t win.”

“That’s why my victory will be all the sweeter,” she poked him in the chest with a grin. “Just you wait.”

“When shall I send out the wedding invitations?” John asked the pair. “I picked a lovely periwinkle card stock you’ll love.”

“I think a summer wedding would be nice,” Amelia paused. “Find a little church in the countryside. Wildflowers everywhere.”

“Allergies could be risky,” John replied. “Wouldn’t want to be sneezing on your wedding day.”

“Ah, but I assume you’ll be best man, so I would hope you’d be on hand wut Jaime antihistamines?”

“Of course,” John nodded solemnly. “Assuming Sherlock hasn’t taken them all first.”

“I would have accounted for allergies,” Sherlock piped up. “The insects would be my primary concern.”

“Bees,” Amelia pointed out in agreement. “I’m actually very allergic.”

“So we’re back to allergies,” John said.

“I know you’re allergic,” Sherlock looked at Amelia. “Which is why I renewed your epi-pen after it expired two months ago. I’ll make sure both John and myself have a backup.”

Amelia’s hand went to her chest, eyes wide, with a small “aww”.

“Clearly we’re going to have to bump the date up,” John snickered. “A nice spring wedding?”

“Rain,” both Amelia and Sherlock replied in unison.

“Also periwinkle is nice, but what about a yellow?” Amelia hummed in thought. “Or a tasteful navy with pastel pinks?”

“You just want to cover the tables in peonies,” Sherlock snorted, fishing for his phone after it chirped with a new message.

“Is that so wrong? They’re incredibly good luck for marriages,” she sighed dreamily.

Sherlock ignored the comment, reading over the short message from Mycroft a few times, just to be sure he understood it correctly.

Moriarty turned himself in.

MH

And just like that, the fun was over.

He looked toward Amelia, who was giggling with John over fictional seating arrangements, wrapped-up in Sherlock’s robe.

This was the part he’d been dreading. The game was on, and Amelia was back on the board. This last week being so peaceful for them all. The last tease before things became messy.

Sherlock had no doubt that by the end of this Amelia would know full well what had happened, and that terrified him the most.

~~~

Now this is an open-shut case, guess I should have known from the look on your face. Every bait and switch was a work of art.

Chapter 20

[essayapp149]

same day essay

About me

Write My Essay For Me

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