#but everytime I must do so I am gripped with such intense fear…

[darling-birdie]

I have to make a phone call tomorrow and my body feels like it’s preparing for a fight….

[more-stuff-of-pi]

I’ll Fight For You

a/n: lmao i swear i’m fine, just needed good ol’ kiri to assist me in a v self-indulgent fic. also, sorry for taking forever to write something yoinks

notes: did i read through this after i wrote it? nope. we’re fucking rolling with the audacity of not even a single ounce of beta-ing. requests are open :) find my masterlist here

pairing: kirishima eijirou x fem!reader | genre: angst (w/happy ending) / hurt/comfort | warnings: abusive mother (mental/verbal), a father who doesn’t intervene | word count: 2,018

Your boyfriend was practically vibrating with nerves as he adjusted his hair in the mirror. It was artfully piled on top of his head, his dark roots making a sharp contrast against the vibrant red.

“Ei,” you smiled, “you’re gonna be fine.”

He worried his sharp teeth against his bottom lip, frowning all the while. “But what if they--?”

“They’re going to love you, Ei. Probably even more than they love me,” you joke, coming up behind Eijirou’s monstrously large form. Hero work had been both kind and harsh on him but he made it look effortlessly good. You gently slid your arms around his waist as you angled yourself so that you could still eye his reflection.

“I’m just… worried, is all.”

You cock your eyebrow. “About what, Ei?”

He incredulously meets your gaze through the mirror. “What do you mean, about what?!”

It dawns on you a little bit. “Oh, well, she’s not going to be mean to you, Ei. She knows how to play nice when it counts. And you, good sir, count.”

“That’s not as reassuring as it is worrying, you know.”

“My mother is just a little intense, babe, it’s nothing I’m not used to. Like I said, she knows how to tone it down in front of others. I’m sure tonight will be fine. I probably just exaggerate everytime I whine about her, so she’s probably not even half as bad as I make her sound,” you shrug, leaning more into Eijirou’s side.

“Baby,” he sighs, twisting a little to look directly at you, no mirror this time. His eyes are sad yet firm as if wishing you to understand that there’s no need to defend yourself with him.

You squeeze him tighter before letting go and walking to the door. “C’mon, we’ll be late if we don’t leave now.”

❁

You always forget that you don’t really ever exaggerate your mother’s behavior towards you until you’re around her again. Everything as far as introducing your boyfriend to your parents has been going incredibly smoothly. Your dad enthusiastically engaged Eijirou in hero stories, talking about Red Riot’s  most recent media appearance where he was dressed in pajamas and carrying tubs of various ice creams you both had wanted to try when he dropped everything to prevent a construction beam from falling on clueless bystanders. Only one tub of ice cream had survived and luck had it that it was your least favorite flavor combination. Your mother praised Eijirou for his success and his coupling good looks at which she winked, making your boyfriend flush both at the phrase and the uncomfortable comments your mother directed at him. You winced at that, having forgotten to prepare him for the habitual talent your mother had of sexualizing anything, especially if it would ‘embarrass’ her child.

Your mother had made off handed comments throughout the whole night that you seemed to be the only one to pick up on. Your dad might have noticed a few but, as usual, he only looked at you apologetically, never interrupting his wife to stand up for you.

As much as you loved both of your parents and as much as they had their good moments, this fucking sucked.

“--not that she’s any good with that quirk of hers, of course,” your mother snickered as she brought the glass to her lips. You had become a good actor over the years in order to avoid your mother’s bullying over your ‘sensitiveness’, but something about her dismissing your hard work always immediately dismantled whatever mask you had thrown on. To cover what you know must be a crestfallen look, you give a laugh, something that could be called half-hearted at best. Your eyes remained trained on your food. “Oh come on, Y/n, that was funny.”

You chuckled again, hoping to force some genuineness into it. “Yeah--”

“No, it wasn’t,” Eijirou immediately cuts you off, voice straining with anger. You felt your face drain of blood as you noticed how tightly he was gripping his chopsticks. He was fuming. You don’t think you’d ever seen him angry before. The thought scared you. “That was just mean.”

Your mother quirked an unimpressed, subtly pissed brow at your boyfriend. “Don’t be sensitive, Eijirou. House rules: if it’s mean but funny, it’s okay.”

“As long as you get a laugh from it, it’s okay to abuse your child?” He spits at her like venom.

Your mother sets her glass down, eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”

“You heard--”

You slap a hand over Eijirou’s bicep, squeezing so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up bruising. “It’s fine! Nothing I’m used to! I grew up on the ‘if it’s mean but funny’ rule, so it’s fine.”

The look he gave you was of incredulous anger. “No, it is not--!”

“Please, Ei. Please, just--,” you averted your eyes, ashamed of your own familiar defeat. “Just sit.”

Shamefully, you slide back into your seat, nervously smoothing out a napkin back onto your lap. Eijirou still stood beside you, staring daggers at your mother who effortlessly returned it. His fists were balled, the veins in his hands flexing with the effort of restraining himself. His jaw snapped shut with an audible clamp as he resolved himself to sitting back down.

Your dad clears his throat, more so than necessary as if the harder he did it, the better he could dissipate the tension. “Done, everyone?” No one answers him. He takes that as the go ahead to begin clearing dishes, desperately jumping at the opportunity to escape your mother’s impending tantrum. You loved your dad very much but, god, he was nothing if not a coward, always leaving you to fight your own battles. You don’t think you’ve ever won.

Your mother returns her cold attention to you, the ice starting to thicken and your mother’s hollow kindness starting to retreat along with her patience. “What are you even doing to help train your quirk, sweetie?”

Taken aback, you met her gaze. “W-what do you mean?”

“I mean, I don’t ever see you doing anything at all to help. You do realize that training takes work, right? What does it take? It takes--,” your mother trailed off, flourishing both hands to motion for you to finish the sentence.

“Effort--”

“Effort!” She clapped with your word. “It takes effort! And I only want the best for you, sweetheart, which is why I’m just asking what you’re doing. From where I stand, it doesn’t look like you’re doing anything at all to help improve yourself! As your mother, your concerned mother, I’m just looking out for you, sweetheart.”

Your mind is reeling at her words. You so badly want to defend yourself, assert all of the effort that you have painstakingly put in-- but you are reminded of the precise way your mother is able to leech any ounce of power or confidence from you. You would think that was her quirk if you didn’t know any better. “Mom, I am putting effort in, I train almost everyday--”

“Do you really?” Her voice drips with venomous shock. “It certainly doesn’t look like you do,” she gestures vaguely at you, eyeing your body with a vulture’s gaze. “Maybe you should consider morning and night. Oh! And a diet change, too. You know, since the popular heroes have a specific look to them and I just want to make sure that you can fit that. Since it’s your dream to be a popular hero. Like I said, you have to be willing to put in the effort. Oh, sweetie, don’t look at me like that. You know the difficult position I’m in! Trying to encourage you and help you achieve your dreams while not seeming too enthusiastic. You’re putting that stress on me, sweetie, I’m only trying to help.”

It really was incredible how quickly your mother could erase any confidence you had. Normally, you would stand beaming, more than happy to assert yourself and stand up for yourself and others. All it took was a couple words from your mother, and you turned into a dog with its head down and its tail between its legs, fearful of its master.

Your gut sank and hatred swirled throughout your body for both yourself and her as you once again let her have power over you. “You’re right. Sorry, Mom--”

“Do you know where your daughter ranks as a hero?”

Stunned, you both glanced at Eijirou, having almost completely forgotten that he was there. Throughout her tirade, you had felt a tragically familiar loneliness, used to having to defend yourself when no one, not even your other family members, would. Used to always submitting and used to the shame that always accompanied your forced silence.

“What?” She spat.

“I asked if you knew your daughter’s ranking. I just was wondering, is all. It would make sense if you weren’t aware that she ranks in the top 30 since you were asking about the effort she puts in. I would think that that accomplishment -- at such a young age, too, might I add -- was evidence enough of the countless hours, blood, sweat, and tears that she has poured into this. The effort she’s painstakingly put in. You’re right that being a hero is her dream, and she’s a damn good one, too. Saved my life more than once with ‘that quirk of hers’,” he sneered bitterly. “And, on top of that, she’s so beautiful through and through that sometimes it’s all I can do to stare at her in awe. Your thinly veiled shaming of her appearance is never the result of a mother’s so-called difficult situation, only the result of your own insecurities.”

Eijirou suddenly stands, having finally had more than enough for one night. “The only gratitude I will ever have towards you is for bringing this wonderful woman into this world. I hope one day you’ll actually realize how amazing your daughter is and how proud of her you ought to be. Because I am. I am so incredibly proud of her and her accomplishments and the results of her efforts.”

“And who’s to say that I’m not proud of her, Eijirou?”

He scoffs. Eijirou, the kindest, most patient man you know, scoffs in your mother’s face. “Haven’t you ever heard that actions speak louder than words?”

Your mother gapes up at him, opening and closing her mouth like a fish. In that moment, she resembles a fish and you couldn’t be more pleased with that comparison.

“He’s right, mom.” You rise to join him. “I know you love me. I have no choice but to believe it because I think it would destroy me if I didn’t. But maybe someday I won’t constantly have to defend myself to you and you’ll accept the things I say without dismissing them. You always say you admire me most for my assertiveness but you shut me down anytime I use it to stand up for myself against you. And that makes you nothing but a hypocrite.” You stare her down, reveling in the confidence Eijirou gives you in this thing against your mother. For the first time, you are not alone as you fight this battle. For the first time, you have help. And for the first time, you feel like you’ve won. “Now if you’ll excuse us.”

You take Eijirou’s hand and lead him out of the house, leaving your parents to stare after you in shock. As soon as you make it out, cold air hits you like a slap in the face that harshly wakes you from a daze.

“Holy shit, Ei, did I just stand up to my mom?”

He laughs and squeezes your hand. “It was pretty manly, too.” You laugh breathlessly, still in disbelief as you push your other fist against his arm. “And you know,” he continues, “that I’m the best judge of that.”

“That must mean a lot,” you grin, swinging your linked hands between you as you walk further from your parents’ home, feeling the fullness of a good meal and a battle won.

taglist: @samwrights, @mayaoliviee, @luluwiie​, @gigglyparker​ (i thought i would tag you since you commented on the draft that i posted of this, hope you don’t mind <3)

[that-little-zebunny]

True Happiness

A/N: Hi there,thank you for requesting this sweet prompt and I’m sorry this took too long to be done. Hope you liked it. ^w^ PS. I had to repost this because tumblr messed up the first post TvT

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader WC: 1,312 Warning: Angst and some fluff

It’s been a while since you got the chance to enjoy the outside for yourself. You’re lucky that your best friend Emma visited home and asked you to go out with her to have coffee and catch up. You had so much fun especially when the two of you went to the places that hold so many memories of your childhood. She was sad to learn that your favorite tree was cut down because it was struck by lightning one stormy night.

“I’ll miss this tree. We used to always stay here don’t we? It shades us so well we can have a refreshing nap every time we get home from school.” She said as she looked at the spot where it used to stand high and proud.

“It was a really sad moment but it’s the safest choice.” You stared at the same spot but remembering a different moment. What you see is a younger version of you and a certain tall and painfully handsome man. His kisses behind the said tree and his beautiful voice and the promises he whispered…

Sighing, you urged Emma to head back to their house as it was getting late.

As you approached Emma’s parent’s house you smiled. You can hear a certain kid's sweet laughter. Well you're glad that you’re not the only one having a great time.

“Oh the kid’s must have a wonderful time too.” she giggled as she opened the door.

With a smile plastered on your face you went in to see your kid. Emma’s mom was nice enough to offer to look after the children as the two of you went out.

“Willy Mum’s back.” You said as you looked around the living room. But it was empty besides some toys scattered around the carpeted floor.

“Hmm maybe they are in the kitchen. You go ahead, I'll just clean up here.” Emma said and you did. As you got near it a voice made you slow down.

It can’t be…

H-he’s here? And Willy is here too!

Heartbeat spiking up you hurriedly went in the kitchen and there he is...the man that had been in your dreams for years, the face you see everytime you close your eyes and when you stare at a certain green eyed boy.

“Mum!!” Willy’s excited voice woke you up from your trance.

“Mum?” Tom asked, looking at William and then at you.

“Yes, she’s my best mum!” Willy said as he wiggled down from the kitchen counter where Tom was holding him secured.

“I-I’m your only mum, sweetheart.”responding with your usual answer whenever he says that phrase but stuttering as you do so. You can feel Tom’s eyes on you as you kiss your kid’s forehead. “How’s your playdate with Lizzy and Sofie?”

“It was fun!” he answered smiling wide.”they fell asleep fast mum, so mister tom is helping me get a snack bitoz my tummy is crying.”

“That’s wonderful. Now go and clean you things so that we can head home.” you told him and he did as you said.

“Willy is yours?” Tom asked, staring at you intensely it made your knees weak.

“Yes…” you answered looking down at your feet. This is one of your worst fears.

“He told me he’s turning five...that means...at that party five years ago...” he looked at you angrily. “You told me nothing happened!” he whispered angrily.

Tom is a smart man. Also if you look at Willy properly it’ll be too obvious.

“I...I couldn't. You can’t even remember what happened the night b-before.” you said, tears starting to fill your eyes. “I was ashamed. It all happened because we are drunk and you are about to head out for another big project, and when I learned I am pregnant I had no courage to react to you, I didn't want to destroy those chances for you Tom...I just can’t.” you look up to see him standing in front of you breathing heavily. His hand went up and you flinched thinking hell hit you. He looked very angry.

“Oh darling...I’ll never hurt you.” He said smoothly as his hand went to pull you towards his warm embrace. “I-I just...I can’t believe this.” putting some space between the two of you he looked at you.

“I’m so sorry.” you said to him sincerely. You hated that so many chances were wasted just because you got scared but you can’t help it. He’s very famous now and respected by many. Turning up suddenly with a belly carrying his kid will surely destroy all the things he worked hard for. You can’t… you couldn't do that to him...You just accepted that William is a gift given to you for the love you can never have.

“Don’t apologize, Y/n. This is harder for you I am certain of it. If you’ll let me though I would love to be a part of his life.” he said, caressing your cheeks making you lean on his touch more as an automatic response. He smiled seeing how things never changed. You’re his sweet angel, time away did not change that.

“I-I tried...I did try to be the best for him so that he won’t look for a father...b-but I don’t think I have the right to deny him that.” you answered as he kissed your knuckles repeatedly saying thank yous. The touch of his soft lips made your face heat up.

“Y/n… I believe this as destiny slapping me with reality.” he said getting down on one knee in front of you. Hands gripping yours tightly. Your breathing hitch as you stare at him. The man you considered as unreachable is now kneeling for you.

“T-thomas...what are you doing?” you asked but he only smiled at you sweetly.

“I-I left you before thinking that I’ll be chasing my dream without realizing I end up leaving it behind...leaving you behind.” he brought your left hands to his lips leaving little kisses on our palm that brought up goosebumps on your body. “Learning about Willy made me realize where my true happiness is...will you accept me back in your life my love? I’m tired of missing you.” he stammered a little as he brought your right hand to his lips doing the same gesture.

“Oh goodness Thomas, it’s what I had dreamed for a long time.” your heart feels like it's going to explode. Tears started to flow from your eyes as you looked at his handsome face that is also wet from his own tears.

“Thank you darling. I love you, I had never stopped loving you. And is it weird that I love Willy so much already? I feel like my heart is about to explode.” he brushed his hands on his curly hair as he giggled before he stared at you intensely and held your cheeks. “I’ve longed to feel your sweet lips, will you let me?” he asked, touching your lips with his thumb. You only nodded closing your eyes. You felt his lips on yours as he kissed you slowly savoring every touch of each other's lips. He was about to deepen it when you both heard a little voice.

“Ewwww.” Willy said, covering his eyes and turning around to run back towards the living room of his grandparent’s house. You and Tom stared a each other shocked before you both ended up laughing hard. Oh poor sweet Willy.

“Are you ready to be introduced to your mini me?” you asked him as he hugged you still laughing.

“Ready as I can be.” he nervously said but he still smiled at you lovingly. “I love you Y/N, thank you for this gift.”

Kissing him quickly you tugged at his arm. It’s time for little William Tobias Hiddleston to meet his father.

-----

Happy reading :) Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated.

[tsuraiwrites]

The Uses of Sorrow: Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness - tell me it doesn't smell of voiles to you?

for this prompt meme. this will be up on ao3 in the evening.

A Box Full of Darkness (½)

The thing about corporating out of some bandages onto that wooden floor… the thing is that no matter what Noshiko and her oni say, no matter that the oni’s hold on him felt like they were scraping claws on the inside of his skull and deemed him free of corruption, Stiles doesn’t feel like a real person. 

He’s got all of his memories, sure. Even the ADHD came through fine. PTSD and nightmares are real winners too.

But there used to be a small scar over the knuckle of his index finger, where Mrs. Peterson’s pomeranian bit him when he was eight. He had to get stitches because it kept spurting blood everytime he twitched his finger. There’s no faint line above his eyebrow where Erica bashed him in the face. He has no scars now, except onore, the “self” the oni branded him with.

Stiles is a copy, and he can’t forget it when his own body is a testament to the truth. He traces the kanji when he’s distracted, wondering if the mark is supposed to fade at some point. He doesn’t think it will.

Maybe the oni missed something vital, something still curled around the back of his brain. 

When he finally turns to Google to answer the questions still buzzing around his head like that fucking fly, Stiles finds himself staring at a webpage full of Japanese and reading it as easily as English. He tabs away, checking emails before typing another search term into the browser.

After a while he realizes he’s reading a PDF of the original Kojiki, combing for references to the god of foxes, kitsune, or nogitsune. The old Japanese holy text is already liberally annotated. The corner of his screen reads 4:30am and he has to be at school in less than four hours. Stiles sucks in a breath, clenching his hands into fists until they stop shaking.

He slams his laptop shut and faceplants into the bed, packing away this new horrifying revelation and shoving it into a dark corner. 

The visualization helps a little, even if his skull starts to feel scraped out and raw again. 

Stiles tries to forget about it.

He won’t be able to, but he tries.

-

“Stiles,” a voice whispers in his dream, and the sad thing is Stiles thinks he’s actually able to tell it’s not real without even counting his fingers. The figment of his own brain speaks into his ear, and Stiles waves it away until it disperses like so much mist.

He knows he’s not possessed. He’s too empty for that voice to be real.

-

Then Scott calls them to Derek’s loft. 

“And everything looked fine, his door was locked, nothing out of place, but…” Scott trails off, distressed. Stiles looks around, but everything is just as open and lifeless as ever.

“But what? Did you find something that points to this kidnapping theory?” Stiles finally snaps when Scott doesn’t continue. 

“Of course he didn’t find anything. This place has been professionally cleaned. That cobweb that’s been there since he moved here is gone,” Lydia says, pointing to the corner by the window. Scott squints like his eyesight isn’t perfect, and Stiles can read his frustration with missing cues that only Lydia could deem ‘obvious’. 

“So what, you want Lydia to run her hands over everything in the room to see if someone capped Derek? Seems like just asking for tetanus.”

Scott shoots him a look full of exasperation and Lydia brushes past him, rolling her eyes as she prepares to listen. 

For about five minutes, Stiles has hope they can resolve this quickly. 

-

He can’t say why he comes to the clinic, his thought process not much beyond every minute that passes is another Derek may be dying.

They have nothing. No leads. No new impressions. No one they can really reach out to. Isaac and Argent fucked off to France to run away from their grief, practically gone dark but for the few texts from Isaac over the last weeks. So far they’ve received no reply about their worries for Derek, and if Stiles is honest he’s not sure Argent is up to making all the calls necessary, not with Allison gone.

(And that hurts too because even when he feels unreal he can still feel his hands gripping the blade that sank into Scott the same way it must have sunk into Allison and it hurts-)

But he finds himself picking the lock into the vet clinic almost absent-mindedly, his thoughts focused on fending off that twist of grief threatening to drown him if he lets it. 

Deaton isn’t in, but it’s not like Stiles needs him to get past the mountain ash lines or whatever other supernatural traps the druid laid. 

(And he feels unreal again because how can he be human after getting puked out his own body or when he feels like there’s a subtle awareness of his own energy like something buzzing under his skin and reminding Stiles how hollow he is)

He comes back to awareness while popping open a padlock with steady hands. He curiously lifts the lid off the metal chest and peeks inside.

He slams the lid again, clicks the padlock in place, and runs out the clinic as fast as his legs can carry him.

-

First is the fear. How did Stiles know it was there? Did it put him in a fucking trance- but no, he’d seen the runes all over that chest, so surely Deaton was using that to contain its influence. Surely. But then how did Stiles know where to find it.

Close on fears heels comes anger, because Argent was supposed to take care of it, to make sure it never hurts anyone again-

But that’s too much to ask of a man whose daughter died because of that thing. Because of Stiles. 

He hisses, hitting the wheel with his open palms until they ache and then gripping for all he’s worth.

“Stiles,” his dad says on the other side of the door and Stiles yelps, banging his knee hard into the dashboard. “You okay, kid?” 

Damn it, even his paranoia isn’t good for anything if he didn’t notice his dad walking up to the Jeep. Stiles scrambles to unbuckle and get out. His dad’s raised eyebrows don’t help the embarrassment he feels when they both realize he’s wearing just his pajamas and a pair of sneakers. He didn’t even put on socks. 

“Hey, you haven’t been sleepwalking again, have you?” John asks, his face twisting up with concern. He sets a hand on Stiles’ shoulder and Stiles can’t help how he flinches. The next moment he’s being reeled in closer and pulled into another of those hugs – the ones that happen when they’re both thinking about things better left unsaid. “No, not sleepwalking, I promise,” he mutters, not quite sure how true it is. “There’s just, been a lot going on and…” Stiles mentally flails, casting about for a suitable lie, and John pulls away to look him in the eye again. This is the part where Dad asks what’s going on, and Stiles comes up with some high school drama, some small werewolf thing, a story about how he had a nightmare and wanted to grab some coffee and didn’t think to change clothes…

But his dad just looks at him, doing his best to be patient without walking on eggshells. Stiles’ next breath hitches on a sob he can’t quite choke down.

“It’s about Derek…”

-

It’s easier to convince his dad than Stiles thought it would be, even with their paper-thin conclusions that Derek has been kidnapped. 

His dad files a missing persons report and reaches out along the few contacts he has that haven’t yet burned their bridges with the Hellmouth that is Beacon Hills. In the process they finally reel Peter into things, which is in hindsight a mistake. He has nothing helpful to add but snarky comments and an intense fixation on watching Malia. Stiles keeps an eye on them, and Malia may as well be bristling at the attention. He carefully keeps himself between them, even though she probably won’t hesitate to go through him if Peter says something to piss her off.

It should be a red flag, how little that prospect frightens him. Instead Stiles is forced to push it aside for that clock ticking down somewhere in the back of his head, telling him that Derek is running out of time. He’d think it was just anxiety giving him a panic-inducing imaginary countdown, but… somehow Stiles is just sure. 

Nothing good will happen to Derek if they don’t find him in time.

-

No leads, no leads and the clock is ticking. Argent still won’t get back to them. 

He keeps going back to the loft, even though Lydia got nothing more than blood, gunshots, and a woman’s voice. Nothing helpful, and Stiles keeps getting stuck back on the floor, shining with a faint lemon-scent by unknown hands. They only have assurance that Derek didn’t die here, despite probably being shot. 

Even Kira’s mother has little to say in the matter. It doesn’t surprise him – celestial kitsune have never been very useful aside from summoning oni and some flashy cleansing powers… and if that’s not thought Stiles ever would have had before, he shakes his head and ignores it. 

The way he’s trying to ignore the knowledge that there is someone – something – that could touch the featureless concrete and know, because it deals in pain and suffering and feeds on it even years later. 

It’s Peter who finds him there, still standing in the middle of the floor an hour later. The sound of his name breaks Stiles out of his thought process. Peter grabs his arm when he tries to brush past him and Stiles can’t help his flinch.

He’s immediately let go, and can’t quite process what’s happening for a moment when Peter takes a step away from him. Bewildered, Stiles finally meets his eyes.

“Are you alright?” 

It’s the last thing he expects to hear from Peter and he blinks hard. “What- I…” he stops, straightens a little to look at the wolf on the same level. “I’m fine. I am,” he insists when Peter squints at him. Stiles’ heartbeat is as steady as it ever gets. He isn’t lying. 

-

It’s easy as anything to download a Japanese keyboard to his phone. Even with shaking hands, he has a few emails sent out before he unlocks the door to his dark, empty house. His dad is on shift, and with everyone out looking for any sign of Derek he can’t expect company for the evening. 

In his pocket, his phone buzzes once with an incoming email. 

-

The hostess only raises an eyebrow as Stiles skids through the restaurant door two minutes before closing. He musters his best sheepish smile. “Uh, pickup for Stilinski?” 

“Of course,” she says, picking up a large bag and setting it on the corner before him. “Cash or card?”

Stiles pays and quickly leaves again, hoping that the sheer amount of karaage and inarizushi he bought will make up for it not being warm when he finally eats it. But no, he can’t think about that right now. Focus is what’s needed here. 

He drives with both hands on the wheel, counting his breaths just so panic won’t cause him to run off the road. The Jeep’s beaten up enough as it is, it probably won’t survive another head-on collision with a tree. 

He could swear the wards and mountain ash prick at him as he picks the lock again. The quiet snick of the last pin sliding into place echoes ominously, reverberating in the hollow space carved into his chest. The plastic bag in his hand grows heavier. Nevertheless, Stiles makes his slow way to the dark office, counting his breaths.

He drives the screwdriver into the lock and it clicks open in time with his thudding heart.

Shock, an emotion screaming into Stiles’ brain like a livewire the instant his hand touches the box. A moment later that clears and rage hammers into him, the quiet thunk of a buzzing fly throwing itself mindlessly against the lid, trying to get at him. 

It takes every ounce of self-control to set the box on the floor instead of dropping it, and he has to wonder if Deaton or Argent could feel this too, or if he’s just special. Stiles gratefully lets go but the buzzing only grows louder. 

“Chill out,” he says, voice as steady as he can make it. He may be shaking, but the fly doesn’t need to know that. 1-2-3-4… he keeps counting on one hand, touching his thumb to each finger in sequence. With the other hand, he takes two styrofoam containers and opens the tops before turning the containers to face the box.

The buzzing stops. 

Got your attention now, don’t I, you bastard. “Kitsune-tsuki,” he says, and if his accent is a little archaic, it can’t be helped. “Willingly, this time.” 

The box actually twitches from how hard the fly buzzes, and Stiles doesn’t need to touch it to get the impression of rage and betrayal from it – it spent far too long wrapped up in Stiles’ neurons for him not to get to know it back, at least a little toward the end. 

“It’s not a trick,” says the human kid to the monster, and Stiles wants to laugh, reassuring the only being he hates in this world more than Gerard Argent that he’s being sincere. Half a giggle slips out before he strangles it. “I know what it means to be kitsune-mochi. This can’t be a trick.”

In the quiet, the fly buzzes once, almost petulant. 

Stiles scoffs. “You tricked Noshiko first, you don’t get to be pissed when she tricked you back.” His mouth pulls into a grin and there’s no one to see how strained it is at the edges when Stiles leans forward and negligently flicks the box of sushi with a finger. “Well?” he finally hisses at the silent hunk of wood, trying not to let his desperation show. 

Somewhere in the next room, something drips loudly. The invisible clock ticks on. 

Then a high, long buzz he can’t interpret, but he doesn’t have to when he’s already reaching to open the box with the yes ringing in his ears. 

“Onegaishimasu,” he remembers to spit at the last minute, and then there is pain. 

It’s not the slow invasion of dreams and backsliding sanity Stiles experienced before. It strikes like lightning, but inside, a rapid expansion of shadow driving seeking tendrils through all his veins and up his spine, curling tight around nerves and bone alike. The brand underneath his ear burns hot. 

All is quiet for a long moment. The dripping faucet is dry and the pain gradually fades.

There’s an almost physical sensation as the nogitsune wends their way through his memories until they come to the reason Stiles has been so desperate in the first place. 

Their laugh is full of razor blades, but he knows they’re amused at his petty need to save a pack member, even one that doesn’t like him very much. 

So soon after you were rid of us, too.

Stiles wants to scream, and they can see his want and his restraint both. 

Stiles reaches for a piece of inarizushi. Onegaishimasu, they sigh, in the same tone as someone settling into their favorite spot on the couch after a long day.

His mouth opens without his will behind it, tofu and rice accepted from a human hand as he feeds it to the fox. 

They are bound.

-

Cultural notes:

kitsune-tsuki - possession by a fox spirit

kitsune-mochi - a person or family willingly possessed by a kitsune in order to bring fortune to their family

karaage & inarizushi - both traditional foods (fried chicken and a type of fried tofu on sushi rice) associated with kitsune and the god of foxes and rice, O-Inari

“onegaishimasu” - a phrase used by two players before starting their game of Go; a phrase used when someone has agreed to do something for the person saying the words, with the implication to “please do me this favor”

[sleepyxdarling]

What would Kai, Hawks, or aizawa do when their darlings water is breaking during a fight?

This was fun to do! Also I did all three cause...yeah

Aizawa

"I don't understand why you don't want to be apart of this? Do you not care?"

Those words made the poor teacher want to slam his head against a wall til he couldn't feel pain anymore. He loved you..god he adored you more than anything in this universe but you were a pain in the ass to him during this last month of pregnancy.

"I don't see the big deal..why does it matter which onesie our daughter wears leaving the hospital?"

His voice was dull and full of confusion as he watched you pack your bag to take to the hospital tomorrow. He didn't quite understand the difference between the green onesie with brown paw prints or the blue one with carrots and bunnies. This made you frustrated...no from the look on your face you were more furious which meant he was going to sleep on the couch.

"what do you mean? We will be taking pictures! It matters! How could you say it doesn't?!" Your shrieking only made aizawa let out a long sigh since he knew you weren't always like this and the stress and fear of a baby made you weird.

"calm down [name]..just pick one already" normally his low tone would relax you but you were so worked up that you were crying...holy fuck. Aizawa had no idea what to do so he tried to pull you into a hug only for you to hit his chest weakly.

"you are such a jerk! I mean this is something important and you say it's not! You...you are the worst! You're so sluggish sometimes that I can't help but get so-" as you were yelling you touched your stomach and felt something wet between your legs along with water under you.

"wet...?!"

Your remark made the male chuckle lowly "I make you so wet..?" He purred out before he looked down and saw the puddle before your cry of pain was the next thing he noticed.

Aizawa quickly zipped the duffle bag up and slung the strap on his shoulder while gripping your hand and guiding you quickly to the car while sighing and looking at his wife.

"the bunnies were cuter..."

Kai

There was no way he was letting you buy those dumb fox overalls for his son. He loved you and even let you go crazy on the nursery by making it all fox theme but he had to put his foot down.

"foxes are dirty..[name] our son isn't a dirty fox" his voice was full of disgust at the thought of his baby prancing around thinking he was some feral fox boy.

"it's so cute! It has a poofy fox tail attached on the back!" Your squealing did not convince him and at this point he didn't want to make a scene at the store but you weren't listening.

"[name] did you hear me? I said no. Put it back right now or else."

Any normal woman would be shaking at his low growling tone but he must have forgotten who he married. You calmly put the outfit back on the rack before turning to the man who at this moment pissed you off.

"Kai..I am NOT one of your little minions. I am your wife. Not a slave and I won't have you make all the decisions" your stubborn behavior was the reason he loved you but he wasn't a man to back down just cause you said to.

The male grabbed your arm roughly "I let you pick the room theme..I let you choose most of the baby toys and clothes and all in asking for is to not have our son dress as a filthy creature. You aren't being fair [name]" he spoke low to you clearly not wanting a scene but you couldn't take his rudeness and snapped.

"I don't get it! Why not?! It's adorable! Just cause you are dull and boring doesn't mean he has to be! I know he is your son but you can't control everything! I think it's cute so we are getting it!"

Now.. normally if you two were at home Kai would be impressed by your couraged..and slightly turned on but this time it was different.

"you will get that outfit when he gives me a sign that he wants that and so far I'm not seeing anything" his sneering was met with your glaring before a rushing feeling escaped you and you found yourself making quite the mess from your now broken water.

Kai looked at the liquid touching his shoes and he would have gotten upset if his son wasn't about to be born in a few hours.

"k..Kai.." your crying voice of pain made him pick you up and storming out to the car before putting your in and driving to the nearest hospital.

He had to make sure to go back to this store and buy that dumb outfit when this was over.

hawks

When it comes to fighting you and hawks don't really argue and when you do it's over quick but this one was quite intense. The Truth was that the public didn't know about you and the twins you were supposed to be having.

This meant you both never had a public date or anything which of course hurt you badly but he insisted on having a home birth to prevent going to a hospital..he never asked for this before but it broke you.

"do you hate me..?"

"what?! Oh angelcakes no way! It will just be better cau-"

"cause you don't want the world to know you have a pregnant girlfriend?! Are you cheating on me or something? Everytime I ask you to come with me to buy baby stuff you bail! Why don't you want to be seen with me?!"

Your yelling shocked the pro-hero for sure and he didn't know how to respond but seeing those beautiful eyes fill with tears made him want to scream.

You were his sweet angel and he loved you so much but..he was scared. He was a hero and so his life involved villians who could take you away at any moment. You could be hurt or killed and he would feel responsible, he loved you but he refuses to put you on danger.

"are you even listening to me?! You are such a jerk! Do you even love me!? I know you are a hero and you can get any girl so I must be a game right?!" You were so worked up and he couldn't take it anymore so he yanked you into a tight hug.

Despite your thrashing and yelling he wrapped his wings around you tight while whispering sweet nothings in your ear to help calm you down.

This of course only made you cry and hit his chest before the sound of water spilling on the floor got both of your attention.

Hawks pulled away and slowly looked down before seeing your dress was slightly wet along with the ground.

"m..my water just broke"

Those four words scared hawks so bad that he released a string of curse words before rushing you out the house and in his arms before using his wings to fly to the nearest hospital..

"my girlfriend is having my twins!"

Hawks screamed this while laughing until you both got to the hospital..it's safe to say all if Japan knows who you are now.

[synthsizedproductions]

Chapter Five: Fall

CW: Violence, fire, suicide mention, attempted murder, death threats

I tried to ignore the stares of the civilians as the Judge carried me through town toward a large stone building. The crowd parted ways for him like they feared him, skittering out of his path as if panicked rodaks. “You certainly have an effect on these people.”

The Angel glanced at the individuals we were passing. “That is because they respect me and my authority over them and the city.”

I shook my head and used what little energy I had to attempt wriggling out of his hold. “Looks more like fear to me. Those things aren’t the same.”

He glared at me as I struggled and tightened his grip. “As long as they listen to what I say, I don’t care which it is. Fear, respect, they aren’t that different. Besides, they should be afraid. No one wants to see me in the city. It means something serious is happening. I am what stands between them and the Corruption. There is not a person here that can protect this place as I do. This is my hill to defend, and I won’t lose it to people like you.”

I returned his glare and a whisper of heat rose from my Spark. “People like me, huh? Is one young-adult Scorpid really that serious a threat to an entire city apparently guarded by Angels?”

He shook his head and readjusted his hold on me. “Angel. Singular. This is my city and I will not have Corruption sneaking its way in. I’m doing you a favor. Some people would torture you first. I have no interest in watching you suffer. Forcing you into The Nine Pits is punishment enough.”

His words left me horror-struck, the fire inside me freezing. “What do you mean? Death collects everyone and weighs their balance. He’s supposed to give us a choice. They promised me we got a choice.”

He nodded as we began climbing a hill, the village fading into the distance. “That is usually correct. However, I’m not bound by that in specific cases. One of which is any case that involves Corruption. You must have the curse burned from your very Spirit. You should be able to return to the Living Realm in a handful of generations. That might be enough time.”

I contemplated his words in panicked silence as the Judge carried me up a steep set of stone stairs. The higher we rose, the deeper my terror became. I wanted to figure my way out of this situation, but my thoughts were a constant high-pitched ringing, and I couldn’t process anything beyond my fear.

Don’t get scared. Get angry.

I swallowed my anxiety, and the ringing faded into the background, returning my focus to what I could do about the danger I was in. “I thought your people were all about Order. Doesn’t breaking the balance of life and death go against what your Patron stands for?”

He halted in his tracks and focused his blazing white eyes on me. “Did you, a Child of Chaos, just tell me, an Angel of the second highest degree, how my Patron would feel about breaking the balance created by Them?”

I meant get you angry.

I could sense his rage building, but returned the Angel’s intense gaze. “If that’s how you want to interpret it. I just figured you’re committing an unforgivable act by breaking something so important to the balance. Dalin would surely be disappointed in you.”

The edges of his gray feathers glowed like his eyes, and the air was heavy around us. “How dare you allow Their name to pass your filthy, Corrupt lips? I’m already going to kill you. Don’t make me change my mind on the torture.”

Stop antagonizing him.

I scoffed at him and ignored the instinct to placate my aggressor. Reasonable words weren’t working; it was time to get mean. “I imagine that is another act that disappoints Dalin. Torture’s messy, which doesn’t sound very Orderly of you. I’m sure Dalin tallies up your misdeeds and will present you with a list of failures before condemning you to the Pits.” His rage spiked higher each time I said the Deity’s name, the surrounding air crackling with excess energy.

He looked ahead of us and stood still as a statue. “You have made very foolish choices today. This one is suicidal. What good has it done you to make me angry? I told you I would be merciful. I told you that your death would be swift and painless. Why would you choose to enrage me?” The Angel spoke with a dangerous tone.

It took me a moment to find my voice beyond the blinding fear. “If I’m gonna die, I’m gonna earn it. You think I’m a monster? You think I want to have this…” I glared down at my bound hands. “...this thing inside of me? You think I chose this?”

He shook his head, but didn’t look down at me. “No. I do not believe that you chose this. No one would choose to be a pariah, a disease meant to be cured by force, if necessary. You choosing or not has nothing to do with this.”

I stared up at him in utter confusion. “Then why are you doing this? I can’t help what I am just like you can’t help what you are. I was born this way. It wasn’t a deal or a curse by a Corrupted Magic user. You’re right. No one would choose this. So, why am I being punished as though I did?”

The Angel turned his cold eyes to me again. “Because you all must be eliminated before you bring about a new age of Chaos. Your very existence is a pox upon our reality. You are the one breaking the balance more everytime you take a breath.” He was shaking with anger.

I tsked at him with a forced grin. “So, what you’re saying is the longer I delay you, the more I’m hurting your cause? Well, that’s gonna be a huge negative on Denali’s list.”

The Angel spread his wings and shot into the air, moving faster than I thought was possible even with Magic. The wind hit me so hard it was impossible to open my eyes, and it felt like my lungs were under pressure. He came to a sudden stop as we reached the clouds and hovered there. Just as I took my first full breath, he folded his wings and went into a nosedive. I was certain he was going to drop me or throw me against the stone fortress, and all I could do was again reach out to any Deity that would listen to my plea for mercy.

The air rushed out of my lungs when the Angel pulled up at the last minute and landed on a stone bridge which connected two of the fortress’ towers. My entire body was shaking as I tried to process what had happened and why I wasn’t dead.

The Angel dropped me to the stones, glaring down at me. “I could have broken your body against that wall. It wouldn’t have killed you with that, just shatter every bone in your body. I am a very patient person, yet somehow, you have made me so furious that I wish harm upon you instead of justice. You’re in luck that I found any sense before making an unwise choice.”

I pushed myself up against the bridge and took deep breaths to stop the shaking. “You think you’re the good guy. That you have the right to end someone’s life for something they can’t stop.” I drew the rest of the manic energy from my adrenaline rush into my Spark. “You’re not a good guy. You’re just another monster like all the others I’ve faced. And you know what?”

He raised a disdainful eyebrow at me. “What?”

I smirked at my captor and my eyes lit up. “I got away from all of them, too.” A wall of flames erupted from my extended hands and I scrambled to my feet, running toward one of the connected towers. It felt like I was going to pass out without access to any of my Magic, but this was my only opportunity to escape with my life. My heart sank when I rounded the corner and found the tower I chose had no way down.

The smell of burned feathers enveloped me, the Judge standing in the only exit. “Your foolishness knows no bounds.” He backed me up to the wall, his eyes piercing my Spirit. “I grow weary of this game. I have more important things to do than deal with an insignificant brat like you.” He grabbed me by the throat and carried me to the edge of the bridge, holding me over it with a contempt expression.

I stared down at the distant ground covered in rocks and debris, tears running down my face. I held onto his arm with my bound hands. “Please, please just let me go.”

“Gladly.”

My grip slipped, and I stared at the sky above me as I fell to my certain demise. There was nothing I could do. Even if I had the Power to fly, I didn’t have the Magic to fuel it. All I could do was wait while I fell for what seemed like an eternity.

I jolted when something hard and fast hit me and it took me a moment to realize it was a person. I stared at him with bewildered eyes, trying to form a question or express my appreciation with no luck. Instead, I examined his features, and I was unsure if a Demon was the savior I would have wanted. He had horns that wrapped around the sides of his head, the points resting on either side of his chin.

He shot up the side of the fortress and landed on the very bridge I was just thrown from. “You really need to talk to someone about your penchant for throwing people from high places, Syndriel.” The dark-haired man grinned at the outraged Angel, Syndriel’s wings ruffling from frustration. “What? You don’t look happy to see me.”

Syndriel clenched his fists. “Why are you here, Samuel?”

Samuel pouted as he folded his skeletal wings, which had a layer of skin so thin it looked like it might rip at any second. “Not even a hello? Even after I caught your friend?” Samuel laughed at the angry Angel. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

Syndriel rubbed his temples. “They are not my friend, they are a criminal I am executing, so if you would kindly hand them over, we can all go about our days.”

Samuel grinned at Syndriel, showing off his set of fangs. “Well, you won’t mind if I take them, then. You’re wasting good potential.”

The edges of Syndriel’s feathers glowed again, but far less bright than before. “This is none of your business, Demon. Drop my prisoner and walk away, or be hunted for breaking the agreements between our people.”

Samuel glanced down at me. “What’da ya think, kid? Life on the run or no life at all? Personally, I know my choice.”

Syndriel stalked toward us. “Your death will be so much worse if you go with him. Show yourself mercy and let me end it now.”

I shook my head, which was enough of an answer for Samuel. “Well, looks like it’s time to go. Lovely as usual, my friend. Let’s not meet again, shall we?” We shot up into the air just as Syndriel was within arm’s reach and soared away from the fortress.

I looked back at the bridge with a frown. “Won’t he just follow us?”

Samuel laughed, turning to face the fortress. “If he could follow us, we wouldn’t have gotten this far. You messed his wings up real bad. Good job, newbie. I think we’ll get along.” He continued in his intended direction. “What’s your name?”

I stared straight ahead, contemplating if death would have been a simpler fate than whatever the Demon had in mind. “Kindred. Kindred Karuda.”