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libraryofantiquitea · 2 years

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𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡.

pairing: jake "hangman" seresin x civilian female reader

summary: jake visits you at the gallery where you work after he's done training for the day. it becomes very apparent that you've both caught feelings.

warnings: explicit, minors do not interact! oh look, it's smut again! but this time there is [drumroll] some plot! unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (female receiving), jake being turned on by his own callsign.

word count: 5.1k

author's notes: no beta, we die like goose. mainly because i didn't want to subject anyone to how long this part is!

i hadn't intended for this to become a series, but this is the third part in august slipped away.

previous: pt. i | tell me my name pt. ii | tokyo summer

likes / comments / reblogs are very much appreciated! thank you for reading! ♥

There was a small art gallery just outside of Miramar; if you wanted to wander around for hours you’d need to make your way into the city proper to go to the San Diego Museum of Art, but if you just wanted to browse some more local art and perhaps purchase a painting or piece of artwork, Evergreen Brush was there for all of your artsy needs.

And that was where you worked as a curator, helping select the pieces and artists that you featured, and turning on your charm to sell artwork to sailors and aviators who might not know the first thing about artwork but wanted a little piece of San Diego to bring home with them.

Jake had texted you early in the morning, he was training pretty much all day but would come and pick you up after you closed the gallery and take you out. For what, he didn’t say, but you didn’t really give a damn where you went, you just wanted to spend time with him.

You had just flipped the sign on the door over to CLOSED for the evening as the familiar sound of fighter jets passed overhead, and you idly wondered if Jake was in one of them.

Fidgeting with some of the everyday rings you wore on your fingers, you wandered further into the gallery to do your “end of day” tasks. It had been a few weeks since you’d met Jake at The Hard Deck, a few weeks since you’d begun this situationship with him. You had promised yourself a very long time ago that you’d never get involved with another military man, but then had realized that if you were going to live in Fightertown that you really didn’t have much of a choice if you wanted to date ever again.

Jake was the type you should’ve run away from, but you had been powerless then to say no to his invitation out for a drink. He was definitely the type you’d normally go out with once, bring back to your home for the night, and that would be that. But there was something incredibly disarming about him that you hadn’t anticipated, a wall that he knocked down everytime you were in his presence.

You got the feeling that wasn’t something that he did often, and wondered what made you so special.

That first night, Jake had told you that he didn’t know how long he would be around. He couldn’t tell you much about what he was doing, it was very hush hush, but you got the impression that the mission was perilous enough that he might not return. And even if he did, this wasn’t where he would be posted long term. Whenever he left that would be it.

You’d had relationships, flings, with expiration dates before, but this was different. With the unknown “best before” date looming over your head, you tried your hardest not to catch feelings. It was fucking impossible with the likes of Jake Seresin.

Sighing, setting some invoices down on the counter, you raised your head and looked across the room to a series of abstract paintings, hoping they would put your mind at ease, quell the noise that would just not shut up.

There was no future with Jake, so it was best to just have a good time while you had him.

Convincing yourself of that was easier said than done.

In the employee lounge, the owner kept all kinds of liquor. Wine, whiskey, beer, anything a customer making a big purchase, an artist making a big sale, or a stressed out curator might crave. You made your way back there and grabbed a bottle of whiskey and two glasses, knowing that it was Jake’s favourite. You didn’t know if he’d want to stick around, or what manner of plans he had for you both when he inevitably arrived, but there was no way you were going to have a drink and not offer him some.

You were just wrapping up recording sales for the day when there was a knock on the door. Glass of whiskey lifted halfway to your lips, you looked over to see Jake at the front door, hands in his pockets, smiling broadly when you made eye contact.

You giggled, feeling like a teenager being picked up for a school dance.

Somehow you managed to keep yourself from running to the door, though you moved as quickly as your feet and self respect could take you. From the other side of the door, Jake held your gaze as you unlocked it, before swinging it open and allowing him access.

“Hey darlin’,” he said brightly, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in close for a kiss.

“Hey,” you murmured, returning his kiss and draping your arms over his shoulder. “Gimmie a sec and I’ll lock the door.”

You mournfully pulled yourself from Jake’s embrace and moved to lock the door, while he stepped further into the gallery. “I never knew this place existed until you told me about it,” he said, looking around at some of the paintings.

“I don’t think it’s in the pamphlets they give you when you arrive at TOPGUN about sights to see while you’re here,” you teased, locking up and turning around. “I found a bottle of whiskey in the break room. Would you like some?”

“Baby girl,” Jake said, tilting his head slightly and raising his eyebrows as he turned to look at you. “C’mon.”

You grinned so brightly that your face hurt, and you walked over to the counter to pour a glass for Jake and another one for yourself.

“Very different work environment from mine,” Jake teased, taking a glass and then clinking it against yours. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” you repeated, watching him for a moment before taking a sip from your glass.

You couldn’t stop watching him; the way his Adam's apple bobbed as the alcohol slid down his throat, the way his green eyes practically twinkled in the low light, the closeness of him when he truly did not have to be that close at all.

It had been a few days since you’d seen him, and all you could think about was the last time you had seen him. Your face felt warm, and whether it was from Jake’s presence or the liquor you would never truly know.

“I just need to finish some paperwork, and then I’m all yours for the night,” you said, shuffling some papers and clearing your throat. More for your own benefit than Jake’s. “Feel free to have a browse.”

Jake smiled at you, before slowly pacing over to the wall of paintings. “I think I will, darlin’.”

Swallowing hard, you forced yourself to look down to finish what you had been working on, even if your eyes wanted to follow Jake through the gallery, watch the way his hand clutched at the glass of whiskey, the broad span of his shoulders, his perfect ass.

You told yourself the sooner you got done with paperwork, the sooner your hands could busy themselves with something else.

It was just as you were finishing up that you heard Jake say, “Could you tell me more about this one?”

Smiling, you moved from behind the counter, grabbing your drink along the way and sauntering over to where Jake was standing. When you realized exactly which painting he was talking about, something in your stomach began to flutter.

It was one of yours.

“Well,” you began, as you stood next to Jake, “this is a contemporary figurative painting. The artist specializes in the genres of portraiture and landscape. But, with this painting she has found a way to … sort of combine the two.” You looked out the corner of your eye to observe Jake, to find that he was hanging on your every word, and seemed genuinely interested. “The landscape in question is the artist’s own body.”

“Hmm,” Jake hummed, before looking closely. “She’s laying down, right? The curves of her body look like rolling hills.”

“That was precisely her intent,” you continued, looking over at Jake. “She isn’t always her body’s biggest fan, and society as a whole still has a problem with bodies that don’t fit the typical beauty standard. So, she is subverting their judgemental gaze by focusing on just a small part of her body, at an angle that most people would not see her in.”

Jake inhaled sharply, as if processing, and you briefly wondered if you’d made yourself too vulnerable, put too much on the table. Of course you and Jake had enjoyed some deeper discussions since meeting, and you’d talked about your art with him, but this was different than all of that. This was opening up in a way that you didn’t with even people you’d known for quite a long time. He’d be right to be put off by it.

“I think it’s stunning,” Jake said quietly, before polishing off what remained of his whiskey and then letting his arm hang loosely at his side, holding the glass by the rim. “And I’ve seen this body from this angle. It’s one of the most gorgeous and magnetic things I’ve ever seen.”

“Jake,” you whispered, shaking your head slightly. You were alternately touched and thought that he was putting on quite the show.

“What?” he asked, turning his attention from the painting to look over at you, eyebrow raised quizzically.

“You don’t have to flatter me so much,” you said, reaching for the empty glass and offering him a smile. “You already have me.”

“Darlin’,” Jake began, his voice dropping into that low register that drove you wild, “I’m not … saying that to try and butter you up. This is gorgeous.” He gestured to the painting. “I don’t know much about art, but I think I know what I like.” He paused, simply looking into your eyes for a moment. “I want to buy it.”

“Jake,” you began, biting at your bottom lip and shaking your head slightly. “C’mon. You don’t really want to buy a painting of my back curving into my ass. There are so many better paintings here. If you want some art I’d be happy to -”

“I’m not playing at something,” Jake insisted, brow furrowing as you turned toward the breakroom. He reached out and grabbed your wrist. “Hey. I like you. We wouldn’t be doing … this, if I didn’t. I like your art. I want to buy some.”

You’d whirled around, facing him, and swallowed hard. God, he was going to make you talk about all of this, wasn’t he?

“I can make you some art. Some better art. You don’t want that one,” you insisted. “Besides, it costs far too much money.”

“So give me a discount then,” Jake said, smiling at you. You set the empty glasses down on a nearby shelf. “I don’t understand. Why don’t you want me to have this?”

“Do you really want a painting of a part of my naked body?” you asked incredulously, raising your eyebrows. “I have so much better work than that. Something that will actually look nice hanging in your home. Something that people won’t ask you questions about.”

“Yes, I want a painting of a part of your naked body,” Jake insisted, reaching for your hand. “I really like your naked body. I really like you. Besides it would be nice to have something -”

“Don’t.”

“- to remember you.”

Even though you had desperately wanted to have this conversation, even though your heart threatened to beat out of the space behind your rib cage every time you thought of him, the last thing that you wanted to talk about was the after. Aside from a couple of slip ups, you’d generally done pretty well about ignoring the fact that this was all going to end.

Somehow, Jake acknowledging it made the whole thing real, and worse, stating that he wanted to remember you felt like a dagger to your heart.

“We agreed not to talk about it,” you said simply, trying to turn away from him, but he was still holding on tightly to your wrist.

Jake pulled you toward him, against his chest, and held you close. “I know,” he said, a kindness in his voice as he relinquished his hold on your wrist to brush your hair away from his face. “I know we did. But, as we’ve established, I like you, want to remember you after I leave. What’s so wrong with that?”

“Because we agreed that when this was over, whenever that might be, that we wouldn’t,” you said sternly, trying desperately to act like your heart wasn’t cracking open like a ship against the rocks. But in a good way. You didn’t want to hold back what you felt, but you did it because of what you’d both agreed to. “And now you’re trying to change the rules. That’s not fair.”

Jake pursed his lips together. “You’re right, it’s not.” You puffed your chest out, having felt like you’d won a little victory. “But I never said I was fair.” He held you a little closer, and you could feel the heat radiating off of his body. “I like you. A lot. More than I was anticipating. I don’t want to act like you don’t mean anything to me. You do. I’m not going to forget you when this is over. How could I?”

“I don’t want to talk about the expiration date,” you murmured, a little breathless. Jake was leaning in closer to you, his nose bumping against yours. “We have right now. We’ll worry about later when we get there.”

It was easy enough to say. You had been worrying about later since yours and Jake’s first date, when he’d left your home and headed back to the base, while you had sat on the floor, his come dripping down your thighs.

You wouldn’t have changed what the two of you had for anything in the world. Even if it would inevitably be painful in a matter of weeks.

“Right now,” Jake murmured in agreement. God, he was so close. You tried to close the space between you and he pulled back a little, smirking at you with a flash of perfect, white teeth, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Fuck, you hated him in that moment. “I kind of want to bend you over something and fuck you.”

“Jake.”

“Dress hiked up over your hips,” he continued, his hands moving down along your sides before settling on your aforementioned hips.

“Jake,” you repeated, wrapping an arm around his neck and trying to haul him closer. He still wouldn’t kiss you, and you decided that you were done playing fair. With your free hand you reached down between Jake’s legs, and grabbed his stiffening cock through his pants.

“Fuck,” he growled, hips canting forward toward your touch.

“Hike my dress up over my hips then,” you breathed, squeezing him gently through his jeans, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “Raw me.”

He said nothing, and instead gave you that kiss that you had so been craving. It wasn’t sweet, it wasn’t gentle, and there was the very real possibility that your teeth knocking together would result in a trip to the dentist for one of you. But you didn’t care. It was so passionate, so incredibly raw, and you lived for the intensity that he put into every kiss that he bestowed upon your waiting and eager lips.

You found yourself crowded against a wall, between two contemporary impressionist paintings, and visions of your first time together flooded back in your mind. Not one to reminisce while in the process of being ravished, you turned your attention back to what was happening in the then and now, Jake’s teeth scraping along the column of your throat. You tangled a hand in his hair, loving the feeling of the soft tendrils wrapping around your fingers, where his hair was a little longer.

During a moment of respite, where you both needed to come up for air, you held Jake’s gaze as you hiked your dress up slowly, hooking your thumbs into the waistband of your underwear and shoving them down your legs. Jake didn’t tear his eyes away from yours, but you could tell from the shift in his breathing that he wanted to. Your underwear off, you relinquished your hold on the hem of your dress and reached forward, palming Jake’s hardening cock through his jeans.

“Do you want me, love?” you rasped, and only regretted calling him love a little bit. It was a term of endearment that you used with many people, but it seemed like such a loaded word with him.

“Yes,” he gasped, still rapt as he looked into your eyes, nodding his head slowly as you began to undo his belt.

“Do you want to split my pussy open on your thick cock?” you purred, pulling the belt from its loops and tossing it onto the floor.

Jake leaned forward slightly, bracing one hand against the wall, the other against your throat. You gasped, tipping your head back slightly as he applied just the slightest bit of pressure. “Yes,” he growled, that southern drawl making your cunt pulse around nothing, his thumb smoothing over the delicate skin along the column of your throat.

Your hands trembling, you shoved the waistband of his shorts down just enough to free him. Your hand circled around his length, stroking him slowly, and you marvelled at how wet he was already, how eager he was. Whenever you were together you never doubted how much he wanted you. It was always quite apparent.

The angle was all wrong - he had several inches on you height-wise. Jake dipped his head down, claiming your mouth in one final brutal kiss, before he reluctantly pulled himself away. You whimpered, but didn’t have long to look at him questioningly, or look at him at all. He grabbed you roughly and turned you around, slamming your front against the wall. Your hands automatically went out to brace yourself, and you let out a satisfied groan.

“Not too rough?” he asked you.

“No,” you replied breathlessly. “Fuckin’ perfect …”

The only downside was that you couldn’t see him, and you loved looking at him, his face, watching as every emotion he felt, everything he thought passed over his features. At least with you. You looked back over your shoulder to find him stroking himself, and you let out a low moan, wriggling against the wall in anticipation. He must’ve felt your eyes on him, because he looked up and regarded you for a moment before reaching for the hem of your dress and pushing it up over your hips, just as he said that he wanted to.

“God, look at you,” Jake rumbled.

You let out a soft noise that died on your lips when he drew his hand back and cracked it hard against your exposed ass. “Oh!” you cried, forehead dropping against the wall. “Holy shit …”

“Okay?” he asked with some trepidation.

You appreciated him asking, but it took you a few moments to find the words. “Yes,” you finally replied. “I’ll - you can do whatever you want to me. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

Those had apparently been the magic words, because you heard him groan, heard the slick sound of his hand moving over his cock before he smacked your ass hard again. He hit you with such force that you felt your entire body jostle from it, could feel the ache that lingered between your legs permeating through your entire core. You pushed away from the wall, pushed back against him, cock moving between your cheeks.

“Oh my god,” he murmured, hips jerking forward, his hands settling on your hips. “Baby girl -”

“Jake, please,” you whined, wriggling against him. “Don’t - don’t make me wait.”

That was apparently the last thing that he wanted to do. One of his hands relinquished its hold on you, reaching between them to grab at the base of his cock. He shifted it so that it was nestled between your thighs, letting out a shuddering breath as it dragged against your clit, your lips.

“Fuck me,” you gasped desperately, reaching behind yourself and curling an arm around his neck, drawing them closer. His mouth immediately sought out your throat, and he nudged the collar of your jean jacket to the side with his fingers. “Hangman, give me your cock.”

You’d never called him by his callsign before, and he let out the most pathetic, devastatingly sexy sound you’d ever heard.

He didn’t make you wait any longer, pressing his fingers along his length and guiding it into your wet and waiting cunt. You both gasped, relieved, and seemingly melted against one another as he began to press inside. Jake’s hands sought your breasts, squeezing them gently through the fabric of your dress, your bra, a low moan echoing off the walls of the art gallery as he sunk deeper inside of you.

“Fuck. Fuck,” he moaned as you pressed back against him. “Baby girl … oh my god.”

You, in that moment, felt so incredibly powerful. You felt used, like a plaything for little more than his pleasure. But the way that he filled you, worshipped your body with every touch, every kiss, every shift of his hips let you know the truth - you were cherished, you were ultimately the one in control. You could bend him to your every whim, and he would go willingly.

You whined and gasped as he filled you, and when his hips met your ass and he couldn’t move any deeper inside of you, you made a small, frustrated sound. You would’ve gladly taken more of him if there were more to take - and he certainly wasn’t lacking.

Swaying your hips, you tipped your head back against his shoulder, your own hands settling over his, encouraging him to grab your breasts harder. “Hangman,” you murmured breathlessly. “Fuck me. Split me open, love.”

“You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me,” he moaned, peppering your face and throat with desperate, messy kisses.

“Why would I do that?” you asked with a breathless smile, turning your head slightly so that you could get one of those kisses on your lips.

After taking a moment to get accustomed to the feeling of being inside you, of finding the position that made you cry out the most, Jake began to move. Slowly at first, but then in earnest, his hands coming to settle on your hips once more. He guided you along him as he moved, his hips snapping forward and meeting your ass again and again, the deliciously improper smacking sound filling the gallery.

Christ, how you wanted to see him.

“Jake,” you whimpered as he fucked you with abandon. “Love, I can’t - let me - I want to see you.”

He seemed only too happy to oblige, and though he reluctantly pulled out of you (you both let out mournful sounds), he quickly rectified it by manhandling you until you were facing him. Your eyes wide and startled, you barely had a moment to react, to adjust, before he was swooping in and kissing you, pushing you back against the wall. You lifted a leg, hooking it over his hip, and he groaned something against your mouth about you being so flexible, and you smiled. You ground your hips against him, and he bucked against you, growling as his tongue delved into your mouth.

“Put it - put it back in,” you whimpered, arching against him, draping your arms over his shoulders. The angle was still all wrong, and for the first time in a very long while you hated how short you were compared to him. “Jake,” you whined, frustrated, head thumping back against the wall.

You had no idea what had gotten into you that night, but you felt all manner of things all at once. You could scarcely remember a time when you had wanted anyone but Jake, despite the fact that he’d only come into your life a few weeks previous. Your heart ached from how strongly that you felt for him, and from the inevitable end of your relationship. You were so overjoyed, while simultaneously being absolutely gutted.

“Sweetheart,” Jake murmured, pressing his mouth along the curve of your jaw. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

One of his hands moved under the thigh of the leg you had up over his hip, while the other traced idle patterns on your other leg. You whimpered quietly, looking into his green eyes as he searched your face for a moment. You didn’t know what he was looking for, but whatever it was you wanted to give it to him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, as if he’d never said it to you before. He had, that night of your first date, but your heart felt full from hearing it again.

“So are you,” you responded in kind, and Jake smiled and bit at his lip.

“Put your arms around my neck,” he murmured. “A little tighter than you already are.” You did as instructed, looking at him quizzically. “Hold on.”

You didn’t have the time to ask him what he was doing. He hooked his arm under the back of your knee against his hip, and then crouched down, doing the same with the other leg, hoisting you up off the floor. You let out a startled noise and held onto him tighter, your hand fisted the collar of his shirt in your hand.

“Jake,” you gasped.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, pressing his face against your throat for a moment.

Jake pushed you back up against the wall, using that as leverage to hoist you a little higher. You untangled one of your arms from being wrapped around him and reached down between the two of you, grabbing his cock and guiding the tip inside of yourself. Gravity took care of the rest.

“Oh, fuck,” you whined, eyebrows furrowing as you looked down to watch Jake’s cock slipping inside. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

At that point, Jake seemed to be beyond even four letter, single syllable words, and simply pressed his mouth against your throat, alternating between breathing harshly and moaning, delicious sounds coming from that you hadn’t been aware he was capable of making.

You wriggled, attempting to move yourself up and down along Jake’s cock, using his shoulders as leverage. You were able to move slightly, but mostly it was left up to gravity, and Jake’s arms lifting you. He was so strong, but you were sure that he couldn’t keep that up for long. Thankfully, the angle was fucking perfect and he wouldn’t have to.

“Jake,” you gasped, tangling one hand in his hair and tugging. He moved shallowly, the base of his shaft rubbing against your clit. You wouldn’t last. “Jake!”

He gasped your name in turn, tongue darting out to taste your skin, covered in a fine sheen of sweat. “I’m - I’m coming. Come with me. Sweetheart, please -”

You didn’t need to be asked twice, his pleas and the way he stretched you open, hit all of the sweetest spots inside you ensuring that you came tumbling along with him. Jake was inelegant as he came - grunting and gasping and twitching against you, and it only spurred your own orgasm on further, your entire body trembling with the force of it. It rocked you to your core so hard that when you closed your eyes for a moment you saw the brightest of stars.

Gingerly, you attempted to lower your legs, but your feet still didn’t touch the floor. You could feel his entire body quaking against you, and he crouched slightly to pull his cock out of you, ease you onto the floor, still breathing hard, still making soft sounds against your skin. He seemed reluctant to pull away from the warmth of your throat.

“Fuck,” you gasped, tipping your head back against the wall, your fingers gently scratching at his scalp. “Jake …”

You had said little else for several minutes. They seemed to be the best two words, at least for the moment. They were good words. They were undoubtedly your favourites.

Jake leaned his forehead against yours, and you traded ragged breaths as you attempted to regain any semblance of composure. You didn’t know how the rest of the evening was likely to shake out, but you hoped that it didn’t include being upright for any length of time, as you felt you were barely capable then of standing without assistance.

He pulled away from you, and you were about to tighten your grip on his hair, not wanting him to go anywhere, but he began to slowly sink to his knees. There was a question that died on your lips as he lifted the hem of your dress, which you took a hold of in your hands and hiked up over your thighs as you watched him. Hands settling on your thighs, Jake leaned in and licked the sensitive bundle of nerves at your center. You cried out, relinquishing your hold on your dress with at least one hand, which you tangled into his soft, mused hair once more.

Without a word, he tilted his head to the side and began to lick into you and it was through a haze that you realized that he was licking his own come out of you.

You may have come again from the sheer knowledge of that alone.

“Oh,” you gasped, watching him intently. “Oh god. Fuckin’ ... Jake.”

He moaned against you like it was the sweetest thing that he’d ever tasted, his own release mixed with yours. And you didn't doubt for a moment that he thought just that. Jake ate your pussy like it was a goddamn honour.

“You … holy fuck,” you purred, fingers carding gently through his hair.

You spread your legs a little wider, Jake’s tongue probing your cunt, as if he didn’t want to lose a single drop. He was positively filthy, and looked so incredibly debauched on his knees in front of you, neck craned, brow furrowed in concentration. He opened his eyes to look up at you, and you shuddered under the heat and intensity of his gaze. When Jake deemed you sufficiently clean, he drew back, licking at his lips and smoothing a hand over his face, his eyes still locked with yours.

“I …” You found that you couldn’t speak, and instead let go of your dress, letting it tumble over your thighs. Your now free hand joined the other in Jake’s hair, the both of them sweeping down over his face, thumbs brushing over his cheeks. “Wow.”

Jake chuckled, turning his head and pressing a kiss to one of your palms. “Yes, darlin’. Wow.”

/end.

#hangman fic #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #reader x jake seresin #hangman #jake seresin #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #reader insert #writing #fic #antiquitea.fic #august slipped away

559 notes · View notes

kirstenonic05 · 6 months

Note

Schezo for Character Opinion Bingo!! I realize that everyone is very mixed about him, and I'm curious

To no one's surprise, I am very normal about him. Uh huh.

I would love to write up my thoughts on him, but I'm sure you're not here to see me write an essay on this guy!!!

Here, I'll put my thoughts under the read more!

Did you know I expected Satan to be my favourite Puyo character but Schezo invaded my brain after I listened to his song?

The Gorgeous Man who Defiled the God is one of my favourite songs of all time, and, in pure Kirsten fashion, I searched up this weird guy named "Schezo" who's name I could see was CLEARLY one letter away from being "Joke" in Italian (Scherzo, a musical term for "Playful" funnily enough). I expected a joke character, and came back with... decapitation. Awesome. What is Wrong with him. (And why does he share themes with my other decapitated son??? (Allen) First time my friends found out I liked Schezo and he was also decapitated everyone thought it was BECAUSE he was decapitated djdbkddnksm THAT WAS A COINCIDENCE)

And then uh. It went horribly downhill from there and I like him he's silly he needs a nice nap that doesn't last 100 years again. (Shin Madou.)

The story of how I found him and got dragged into Puyo is much longer than that, but let's not delve into that. XD

As a few people know, my favourite characters share one theme: They aren't as they seem. And with Schezo, that's the case as well; he's a powerful Dark Mage with a hardened exterior, but also thought to be a pervert due to his horrible way of speech. Yet, he's stupid dense (maybe even naive with the innuendos) and loves cute things. Heck, it's hinted that he even liked cute things/animals back in the Madou 123 era!

Actually, he's the most "evil" character I like! However, he's not the most violent (a 10 year old takes that title) and... actually he's pretty chill for a supposedly evil guy. I'd say he's like... an anti-hero? He definitely got character development if he went from "guy who kidnaps magic users and uses their dead bodies for a sick amalgamation" to "silly innuendo guy who loves cute things and chickens out of killing people (and sacrificing himself for people he thinks hate him)". As much as he says he will, I don't think he's taking Arle's power anytime soon.

Everyone's characterisations of Schezo are really different, and I think that's so awesome! They're not as varied as, say, Ragnus, but there's huge differences if the person only knows of Sega or if they also dabble in Compile. I tend to know more about Compile era than Sega era, so my Schezo tends to be a little colder to match that.

His story is also stupidly tragic. Local 14 year old who is doing too well in school gets kidnapped and cursed to become the Dark Mage. At least in Shin Madou he wants to become the Dark Mage at least...? Doesn't look like it in ARS though.

However, the Statue of the Hero he was supposed to see was a statue of Ragnus, and that makes me go insane everytime I think about it. Does he realise the random hero guy who turns into a child is the Hero his village looked up to???

My favourite design of him is actually Tower of the Magician, but thanks to bias, Waku Waku Puyo Puyo Dungeon is my second favourite design. Madou II rocks as well. Have you seen that guy's painted nails???

If you ever see me draw Schezo (once in a blue moon), you may notice that I give him shoulder pads. This is simply because I forget Sega Schezo does not have those and I like shoulder pads, kapeesh? (It's a mistake I constantly make dbdkdnsks whoopsie)

On the other hand, Saturn Schezo creeps me out. In my opinion, they got his personality very wrong. People have been telling me that he gets better after Ragnus gets his body back though! I really hope that's the case.

I'd say Schezo isn't bullied enough, but if Satan's not in the room he usually ends up as the butt of the jokes. And to that, I say, yes. Keep bullying him :) (But also. Sometimes he gets bullied too much.)

He also deserves a nice hot cup of milk and a pat on the back. Nothing goes right in this man's life I stg.

I rock with his aesthetic hard!!! I'm a sucker for astrology aesthetics (hence Moon for Allen, Stars/Sun for Joseph and Sonic, etc.) And Schezo has such a cool moon aesthetic he has going on!!!

For example, look at his Puyo Sun tarot card!

And even his belts in 15th anniversary have crescent moons on them!

In conclusion: He's so silly I love him :)

If you got this far, thank you for listening to my insane, shortened ramblings about Schezo Wegey.

#wowie what a normal guy #so normal. uh huh.#schezo #answer box #pp/mm

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purplelupins · 2 years

Note

as someone who reads sweet dreams everyday (literally) I MELTED when i noticed that little snippet you added to chapter four. i’ve been craving new ethan hawke content from you for awhile now and that was just what I needed, THANK YOU! i hope you still remember you and the best ethan hawke writer on this app. you are literally the blue print and everyone knows it.

ps. also made me wonder if you have any alternative versions of sugar, sugar or sweet dreams sitting in your archive? the girlies want a peak!

Omg you noticed??? Yes to everyone wondering- I did add a few things to the smut in chapter 4…it’s a little darker but I like it more. Ily, you’re so sweet Omg.

SO!! Below is a dark (with lots of manipulation, smut, slight non-con, use of pet-names, degradation etc) little idea for Albert I had but it’s a bit like Sugar Sugar so I didn’t write it fully. But I thought it would help with your thirst 😘 (AS ALWAYS IF YOURE A MINOR DONT INTERACT)

Enjoy🤍

My Bunny

Part I Part II

Basically you have a boyfriend but you’re in a rocky patch with him so you just give each other the odd kiss and he’ll sometimes pick you up from work but that’s about it for the past few months. You work with Albert, and you get along really well with him- you make each other laugh and you’re generally really bubbly and sweet and he’s even driven you home a few times when your boyfriend falls short. One afternoon your bf comes in to get something from the shop and your ringing him through at the counter and Albert’s just on the other side of the wall between the counter and the back room listening.

Your boyfriend looked around, eyeing the store, “Is that boss of yours in?” He asked.

You look at him firmly, “Yep. His name if Albert… you know that.”

He shook his head and fixed you in an aloof, accusatory glance that you had to keep from rolling your eyes at. “I don’t like how he looks at you…can’t believe he knows where your apartment is…” he shook his head again.

Your eye twitched as your patience was wearing thin. It wasn’t like he didn’t get female attention at his work. Hell he had flirted with waitresses and the likes right in front of you, so what was the bother if you got some male attention…even though you were sure Albert didn’t look at you that way. You could be his daughter.

“Well if you hadn’t backed out of picking me up then he wouldn’t have had to be a gentleman and take me home.” You huffed, stuffing his receipt into his bag, “Maybe you should take a page out of his book.”

He stared at you confused and blank; you rolled your eyes, “It means you should be like him…never mind. I’ll see you later.” You said, putting your copy of the receipt in the cash drawer.

Then he lazily raised his head to you look at you, “Oh no I forgot to tell you I’m going to see a game with the guys tonight. I won’t see you until this weekend.”

You stared, unamused, “Awesome.” You grind out.

“I’ll see you, don’t miss me too much!” He said with a charming smile that might have made you swoon at one time…did he ever make you swoon? Like actually…?

You watched him walk to the door, “Have a great time with your boys and your balls!” You called loud enough to embarrass him. His smile dropped and matched your glare before disappearing outside.

A long sigh escaped you. You didn’t like to fight, hell you really just wanted someone to take care of you and love you. But it seemed that it was harder and more to ask for than you had thought. You were really a sweet girl, and you were ready to love someone…

But what you didn’t know was that your dear friend Albert heard everything.

That boy doesnt deserve you.

For almost a year, Albert had been watching you and reeling you around his finger and his patience was wearing thinner everytime that boy didn’t treat you right.

A missed pick up that turned into two.

Plans made without you.

Tears in your eyes.

An argument outside.

A heavy sigh.

But he could take care of you. Albert knew how to treat you right…he knew what you liked.

You checked out another customer, your fake smile falling when the shop was quiet again. You straightened a couple pens and papers when a hand on your shoulder made you jump until you saw it was Albert gazing down at you. You relaxed instantly.

“Sorry sweetie, just need to grab something behind you there.” He pointed to the roll of tape beyond his reach.

You followed his finger and your brain finally snapped back to function.

“Oh sorry, here-“ you went to move out of the way, but the hand on your shoulder tightened.

“That’s alright, just hold still” he murmured and he pressed against you gently enough for you to feel this firm body. He reached passed you and you blushed terribly, hoping he didn’t notice.

Albert pulled back slowly and stared at you at your stood just a few inches away, “Thanks sweetie.” He cooed to you and disappeared into the back. Leaving you to pant and squirm by yourself as your panties flooded. “What the fuck y/n?” You whisper to yourself.

Your boss.

BOSS.

Older. Boss.

With beautiful eyes…

BOSS!!

Christ almighty y/n get your head in straight.

That night, you closed up shop with Albert and another guy you didn’t know very well, but he left as soon as you and Albert shut the door with barely a goodbye. Then you remembered the lonely night ahead of you; lots of time to stew over whether or not to end things with your boyfriend.

The sound of car keys made you look up at Albert as he fished his out from his pocket, and gave him a small smile ,”Have a goodnight, I’ll see you tomorrow!” You chirp before turning to leave.

Oh but Albert knew you needed company. You were mad.

“You’re not getting picked up?” He asked from behind you. But of course he already knew the answer.

You turned back to him, and huffed out a frustrated sigh, “No…no not tonight. Never again if he keeps up like this- sorry…” you said, not meaning to vent like that.

But Albert soaked it up.

He pretended to think for a moment.

“Well, I could drive you? It’s pretty dark and I’d hate to let a pretty thing like you walk home.” He said kindly, gesturing to his van.

Your chest ached at his offer, but you really didn’t want him to feel taken advantage of.

“Albert you don’t have to-“

“I want to,” he cut you off before you could continue, “Someone needs to take care of you.” He took a step towards you and you felt that rush again in your head.

But he didn’t like you like that right?

But you liked him. How could you not like him? Sure he was quirky and quiet…and sometimes didn’t understand personal space, but he was nice. And easy on the eyes- STOP IT!

So you accepted with a shy smile and a nod.

You hopped into the passenger side and fell into comfortable conversation as he drove you to your apartment without needing direction. Of course he knew how to get there- he watched you every other night. You really needed to close your curtains, there’s some creeps out there…

He pulled up outside your building and shut off the engine, but you didn’t take off your seatbelt right away.

You ran your hand down your skirt, smoothing out wrinkles, “You’re really sweet Albert….” You murmured, finally turning to look at him only to find him turned towards you, listening. Watching.

He have you a dismissing wave of his hand that rested on the wheel.

“Just looking after my favourite girl.” He chirped, with a wink, “Don’t tell anyone else at the shop though.”

You blushed and looked away.

“Y-your girlfriend is lucky.” You said. You never asked if he was involved with anyone but this was your chance.

He laughed “Oh I don’t have one. Not for a long time.”

You whipped your head to him. “What? Why?” You said but covered your mouth. “Sorry thats none of my business”

He chuckled and shrugged.

“I’ve been waiting for the right girl.”he said, tilting his head.

You look over at him and cough at the slight jealously you felt that he was looking at woman. Why did you feel jealous? He’s not yours.

And he knew you were jealous. The fucking adorable way for cheeks flushed and the clench off your jaw. He wanted to bite it.

“Well I hope she comes along soon.” You forced out.

“I hope so too…I’m not very patient.” He said. You smiled but knew he was serious. He deserved someone nice.

“Well I guess this is good night-“ you said unbuckling your seatbelt.

“Nonsense I’ll walk you to your door. I noticed a weird neighbour the last time I was here…” he said, popping the door open. You grinned to yourself at the kind gesture but rolled your eyes at yourself.

BOSS.

“Thanks.” You said, but gasped when you stood up and felt the slickness between your thighs. You both fell into step and you felt your hand brush against his which only made you blush; you liked the rings he wore.

You tried to remind yourself that you just needed to get into your apartment and you could make some food and deal with the wet problem you had thanks to the older man next to you.

Just as he had said, he walked you into your building and up to your door. And while you enjoyed the attention, you could barely keep your hands from trembling. Whether from nervousness or frustration from your boyfriend, you didn’t know.

You pulled out your keys and toyed with them as he stood a couple feet from you. “You really didn’t have to do this Albert, I really appreciate it- shoot!” Your keys fell from your clumsy grip, and you sighed as you bent to get them, but Albert beat you to it.

“I got it, sweetie.” He grasped them and was about to stand back up when he glanced at your legs and saw the glistening on your thighs.

Naughty girl.

Albert stood to his full height and held the metal in his hand, and you went to grab them, but with a smirk he raised his arm and held them just out of your reach. “Come on I thought you wanted to get home?” He teased you.

And playfully rolled your eyes and jumped and stood on your toes to reach but to no avail. You rubbed against him as you tried to get the keys; placing one hand on his chest without realizing it.

Albert didn’t take his eyes off you, already feeling himself twitch in his pants painfully. It took you a full minute to realize he was staring at you, and when you locked eyes you were caught. You froze, faces inches apart.

“You could have just asked, bunny.” He very slowly lowered your keys into your hand but you didn’t care.

Bunny?

“What are you-“ you started to say but his lips cut you off. Your eyes went wide and you froze when he pulled you against him. You tried to push away to ask him what was going on, but then his huge hand pulled your thigh to hook your knee over his hip and you couldn’t think anymore.

You slowly wrapped your arms around his neck, and he slipped his tongue into your mouth. He had you right where he wanted you. Months and months of careful preparation…

You moaned and pulled away just long enough to unlock your door. Albert kissed your neck and started whispering in your ear, “Come on bunny…hurry up. You want this don’t you?” Making you struggle with fitting the fucking little key into the slot, but you finally got the door open, and stumbled inside. Albert already kicked the door shut and locked it by the time you turned back to him.

But then as you stood there, you realized what you were doing.

Oh god this was your BOSS. Another man…

Sure you had made yourself come to him numerous times but this was wrong.

Your heart was pounding and you shook your head, “ Wait…we can’t-“

Tsk.

You looked up and Albert had already taken off his jacket and shoes. He was shaking his head at you and you began to feel very, very small.

“You’re trying to tell me you don’t want this, bunny?” He mocked you , tilting his head to the side like he cared.

You could feel your adrenaline pumping again.

You sighed and felt your gut twist, “I have a boyfriend, Albert…and y-you’re my boss. I’m sorry for making you think-“

“Shh…” he walked towards you, and took your hands in his and he pulled you to his chest. His heart beat steadily under your ear. You didn’t relax though.

This was wrong-

“Weren’t you just saying how unhappy that boy makes you? Hm?” He cooed so gently to you.

Well he’s not wrong…NO! This is wrong.

“I know but-“ you started.

“And don’t you like me, sweetie?” He murmured, rubbing your back.

“Well I…I do…but-“

“Don’t you want to feel good, y/n?” He purred, pulling you away to stare down at you, “Don’t you want me to make you feel good?”

His words and touch were clouding your mind and your rationality and logic and morals all began to fade away. “Y-you’re my boss…” you said in one last effort to tell him that you shouldn’t do this.

But he just smirked and held your chin as he leaned to your ear, “And I think you like that…”

Your mind went blank. How did he…?

Albert saw your brain short circuit, and he carefully led you to the couch where he pulled you onto his lap and you couldn’t help the mewl you let out when you felt his very large, very hard cock straining against his pants

“What a filthy little thing you are…you know I could be your dad..” he growled into your ear as you rocked against him. Shame spiralled down your body as he taunted you.

“I-I…” you try to say something but nothing came as he pulled away.

“Is this all for me?” He asked, reaching down to his leg to feel the wet patch by his zipper. The head of his cock pulsed under the touch.

You nodded embarrassed and ashamed. You shouldn’t do this. But your mouth wasn’t listening, “I’ve wanted…I…”

“Do you know how long have wanted you? Hm?” He rasped, very slowly undoing his belt. You watched with your lips parted. “You’ve just been teasing me…pushing me, y/n.”

His hips bucked up as he unzipped his pants, and the swollen tip of his cock was already sticking out from the waistband of his underwear.

“I swear I didn’t mean to…” you stared as he pulled his cock, “fuck…” you pant, taking in the sight.

“What’s wrong? That little boy isn’t as big?” He gently held you and pulled your soaked panties to the side before slipping the head of his cock into you harshly.

You shook your head, gasping. You held his shoulders and squirmed at the intrusion.

“Aw doesn’t this feel better?” He sunk you down until your hips met and you cried out in pain at the stretch. Your boyfriend was definitely not as big as him, “I bet you’ve been wanting this for a while, haven’t you little one?” He bit at the skin of your neck.

You couldn’t even remember your boyfriend’s name let alone the feeling of him inside you. Your mind was fuzzy. You were trying to regulate your breathing as he began to rock you against him.

“T-the only way I can come is if I picture your face-“ you whimpered out your confession, and bucked against him, bouncing up until just his head way inside before sinking back down.

“Does he make you come?” Albert growled.

You shook your head.

He nearly exploded right there.

“Does he make you feel this good?” He snapped his hips and tightened his grip on your hips.

“N-no!” You gasped both from the pain of his hands and your tightening pussy, already close. He knew it.

“You’re going to come for me aren’t you? You naught girl coming on your older boss’s cock. Fuck…that’s it.” He rasped, holding you tightly, “Com on, “his voice turned sweet and encouraging suddenly, “Come on sweetie.” He kissed just below your ear, “Come for me.”

And you let go. You spasmed around his cock, a string of moans echoing around the apartment. He lifted your shirt off your head and threw it away before pulling one of your breasts out and wrapped his lips around a nipple. You cried out again at the stimulation of his tongue and harsh sucking. He rocked into you, and you became far too sensitive, but he wasn’t done; you tried to push him away, but Albert held your hips to him so he stayed inside you and stood up before walking to your bedroom. Of course he knew where it was. You held onto him and clenched around him like you didn’t want his cock to slip out. You needed him there.

Oh he liked you.

“Do that again.” He growled into your ear.

You clenched, and was rewarded with a moan.

“Good fucking girl.” He placed you down onto the bed and you loosened your grip around his waist so he could start moving again. He started thrusting, and you whimpered at how overstimulated you were . “Does it hurt sweetie? Is it too much?”

You whimpered and nodded slightly.

He cocked his head to the side, not giving up on his pace, “It’s going to feel good again, okay? Just hold still…just- fuck.” He gasped, already feeling you tighten around him.

“You’re going to come again? Already?” He chided you, “I thought you said you didn’t want this, hm? Were you lying?” His breathing was heavy against your neck as he leaned over you.

You nod quickly and pulled him to you for a kiss. Anything to make you feel better. He fucked you to another orgasm, and you couldn’t keep in your scream. Not a moment later, his hot cum pumped into you and you could feel it inside you before it began to leak out.

Albert sighed in satisfaction and slowly pulled from you, “My good girl…that wasn’t so bad was it?” He purred, and wrapped his arms around you; pulling your little body against him and he breaths in your smell like he had dreamed of doing so for so long. Breaking into your apartment as you slept to smell your panties just didn’t cut it.

You kissed him gently, afraid of your own actions. Was this too much? Did he just want a one night thing? Oh god what gave i done?“Can you…would you…um…” you sighed not knowing how to say it, “I really like you…genuinely…would you ever want to do that again?” You asked. Sure it was intense…but something about his oppressive control made you…crave more.

He tipped your head up to look at him, “You’re asking?” He smiles cheekily.

“Well I don’t want to assume…”. You murmured, blushing.

“Are you going to stay with him?” He asked, a little more serious. Of course you didn’t see his coiled fists for in case you answered wrong.

You snorted and shook your head, “We were barely together anyway…I …I really don’t think I can stay away from you now even if I tried.” You said honestly.

“Are you going to be mine?” He asked, stroking your hair.

You blush but nod. “I’ve been yours for a year, anyway.”

And he keeps you.

•••••••••

@dogmatic255

@dancingisdangerouss

@tuttifuckinfruttifriday @ethanhawkestan @theroadreader @ebiemidnightlibrarian @honeycovered-bandaids @lxdyred @eth1calcannibal @al-shaw

#nora speaks #the grabber thirst #the grabber x reader #albert shaw

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bisonaari · 8 months

Note

How was your EC concert? Did you have a good time despite going alone? <3

Hi!!!

Omg it was fantastic I had such a great time!

Both opening acts were amazing, Conquer Divide and Solence were absolute fire, and I'm so gonna start to listen to them!!

Because of the fact that they had two opening acts, EC only started playing at 10pm so I'm deceased today 🥴 worst idea to go see a show on a monday lol

For the show itself, EC had so much energy it was honestly amazing I wouldn't even know where to start lol. Even having songs that I don't like that muth were a must needed break from dancing and jumping so much, and became enjoyable. The tracklist was great!! We even had Fckboi because Conquer Divide was here so might as well and I was OVERJOYED i love that song so fucking much

Nico is usually my fav, butI was mesmerized by Kevin. This man has CHARISMA holy shit. (And he g… he got the m… ov…es… ). I'm always taken aback when I remember that he speaks french with absolutely no accent though, I forget everytime HAHAHA (he asked for the end of concert picture is french and everyone was like w h a t because he sounds native hahaha)

I had a good spot to see the show, I was in a front corner in a slightly elevated place so I could see above the pit's heads and had space in front of me to move and dance! My area was full of boring people though, except that woman next to me who jumped and screamed as much as I did hahaha.

Have some of the worst concert pictures ever taken lol, I only snapped a few pics quickly during mc thunder ii and then I put my phone in my bag to enjoy the show!!

#thank you for asking!!#but yeah the lady next to me knew the german lyrics as well lol #it was a fun surprise when we both sang hurrikan and did the fucking millenial phone sign when they got to that part lol #my area was so full of people not moving or even cnossing their arms though #why are yall so boring #coming to a concert and not dance???

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05aaphrodite · 2 years

Text

╭──────༺♡༻──────╮

ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: childe x reader, ayato x reader

𝕋𝕚𝕥𝕝𝕖: anything for mora (Part I)

𝕋𝕎𝕤/ℂ𝕨𝕤: obsession,overpossessive,physical abuse,guilt tripping & gaslightning,kidnapping

𝘓𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘢.

♪

Part II

╰──────༺♡༻──────╯

Living in a penurious household held my childhood dreams back to be the eminent adventurer of liyue, I wanted to be like those adventuresome kids at my age where they would go to the outskirts of liyue for fun then collect artifact things. Unfortunately dad forced me to work as a fish seller so our family is able to afford a better home or food, I would sit on the stall for 2-7 hours a day but the results are nothing new, just an empty jar.

As I grew older, I worked as a food vendor, while it atleast earned around 50 mora compared to being a fish seller, my siblings are obnoxious, everytime I earn 500 mora which leads to them robbing my wallet in the middle of the night to buy on this local toy shop run by some old lady. I barely eat nowadays and didn't notice I was fatigued until one busy day.

"Have a nice day.." I hand the mora meat to the customer when all of a sudden I felt the weight of the food before it slid out of my hand making a mess on the stall.

"Woah- ma'am are you okay?"

The stranger caught me in his arms preventing me to touch the ground, I muttered an apology "I'm sorry for dropping your food sir, you may take the mora back."

"No, I can make it at home so no worries, let me get Dr Baizhu." I release myself from his arms as I maintain my position "It's okay, I'm fine, just a little tired." I took the mora meat off the ground before throwing it to the trash. Great I got embarassed by my siblings yesterday because I refused to fall for their petty pranks and now I made a mess infront of a stranger.

"You don't look too well miss, have you eaten?" the ginger asked in a worry tone, I shook my head as I clean the remaining mess, as the result of my money getting stolen by my family for their own needs, I was eventually thrown out and made me the mora machine of the family "Here, let me treat you somewhere." he gently smiled as he reach his hand for me to grab, I fidgeted my hands reluctantly to accept his request. To my family, mora matters the most, and I mean the pinnacle of l/n, if I go with a rich man who would spoil me everything, they'd consider me a traitor and disown me. They put the burden on me since I'm the oldest of my siblings, every move they expect me to be hardworking to the point I'm only fed apples "I'm sorry, I'm not sure if my family would like it.."

"Why not? You need to eat something at least just one meal." I pressed my lips firmly then gaze around to see one of my siblings eating with their friends, envy struck my heart as I lowly sigh "You okay? You should rest in my home for a while."

I gaze at his eyes to accept, eventually giving in to the hunger "I'm hungry, take me somewhere."

The stranger then took me to a well known restaurant that sells seafoods, Xinyue Kiosk. Ever since I was a child, I longed to eat the mouth watering scrumptious seafoods they serve, seeing the sight of the restaurant again puts my mind and stomach at ease.

I clasp my lap to ease the awkward tension on the air, never have I experienced being taken out, let alone someone affluent.

"The seafood here is one of the finest liyue cuisines I have eaten, I would put in a good word for golden crab."

I skimmed through the menu with little hesitance, it's like how my mom told me not to get picky over a sunsettia. "What's the cheapest here?" I flip the menu book while biting my lower lip "Just order anything you desire, there's no need to have second thoughts about the bill." He reassured "I can even pay the whole menu for you." The ginger chuckled humorously. Somehow his words did reassured the anxiety inside me, the sight of the mouth-watering golden shrimp balls piqued my interest "How does golden shrimp balls sound for you?"

"Golden shrimp balls is a perfect meal to fill your empty stomach during busy hours, its aroma gets you trapped in an endless taste of sweet potatoes." He rests his chin on his palm with charming eyes, for some reason being with him eases my worries and doubts about trying something new unlike my unsupportive parents who dissaproved my adventuring hobbies saying 'it's a waste of time and that I would gain nothing from it but junk'. Atleast I'm not deceiving people around for mora...

After our time with each other, we gradually got accustomed with each other's company. He's such a fun guy to hang out with, not to mention a bit flirty "I know a place in snezhnaya, you would enjoy the niveous and fleecy scenery of it." He winked, a giggle escaped mine as I tuck a hair behind my ear "You truly are a winsome fellow."

The sky eyed then halted in the middle of the bridge before he turn to look at me "My apologies, it seems like I forgot to ask your name earlier." Oh right, all this time we haven't introduced ourselves properly "It's alright, my name is Y/n." I touch my chest "Ajax, just call me Childe."

And that's where everything started, how I saw our love through rose coloured glasses.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

I went home panting in exhaustion while carrying a bag of artifacts, good thing I was rescued from a hilichurl attack on my way home, I didn't even realize the sun was setting on the horizon and I almost missed my 7:30 curfew.

"Where the hell were you?" A threatening voice appeared from the arch hallway. Frightened, I composed my posture as I eat humble pie, I couldn't tell him about how a yaksha adeptus saved me from the hilichurls, he would bent out of shape if I did.

"You sure you weren't with some atrocious bloke?" Childe's eyes narrowed, my eyes widened for split second before shaking my head, I was anticipating on what would my fate be next if he caught me lying. He forcefully grab my wrist then throw me to our shared bedroom, next thing I know he cuffed me to the headboard "You were 5 minutes late from your curfew, pull the same mistake again and I'll make sure you'll never see the light of a day ever again." Childe said followed by a loud slam of the door before hearing a lock, I sighed in defeat as I rest my head on the walls. I don't know what went through him and how it made him like this. It all started when my perspective of him changed when he confessed that he's a fatui harbinger, I've always heard from others on how the fatui are bad people who do nefarious things, the traveler and paimon just brushed it off when I told them that the 11th harbinger and I are in a relationship until they took note of the possesive traits he has that led me to being isolated for a while when I inquired Zhongli for the history of an artifact I picked up from my adventures. It was not only them who noticed Childe's uncomfortable demeanor, in fact my inazuman fugitive friend would always check on me every time we meet, he knew me being with men would outrage the harbinger even for a split second so we just usually hang at Beidou's ship.

Suddenly everyone's opinions about our relationship made me doubt my feelings, if I never got with him I would still be walking outside with my own free rules at this hour, but he gave me a good life and I became financially stable because of his money, I was able to support my family even though they were wary of him, my thoughts then led me to this conclusion. I got with him because of mora, I never genuinely loved him, I was just enamored on how he'll do anything for me and how he treats me. Now my answer that day really changed how I live right now.

If I told him that I'm breaking up with him, he would freak out and do the worst things possible to me, he's a dangerous war machine so instead, I'll relocate somewhere.

The sound of silence faded when the door opened, he closed it behind before slowly walking to me then sat on the edge, he showed signs of remorse before sighing.

"Look, I'm sorry that I got aggressive earlier, I just wanted what's the best for you." The harbinger gazed down, to my surprise he's actually apologizing about his wrong doings "I didn't mean to get mad at you, I was just worried that's all, I'm scared to lose you and you're the only one who could truly understand me and my nature." He hold my thigh as he rubbed it gently "You're so important to me Y/n, I love you a lot and I'll kill for you." The ginger leaned close until our foreheads touch. I somehow felt pity for him, after hearing about his past, I continued to be there for him and support him in every way even when he mistreated me a lot. I cupped his cheeks as a response "I understand, just don't scare me again."

After 3 days of isolation, I set foot into qingce village to accept commissions from elderly people, I tried to avoid their questions regarding my sudden dissapearance, Childe promised me 1k mora if I kept my mouth shut about that one night incident.

The sound of the flowing waterfall as the refreshing nostalgic wind soothes my senses as I sat down on a nearby bench to take a quick break, my legs feels cramp from all of the wood carrying, I chug from my water bottle before releasing a satisfied sigh, I took a moment to enjoy the pleasing scenery of the old village.

"How's your well being now?" A familiar voice turned my head, I continue to look at the aesthetic scenery "I see, he threatened you again." My expression dropped as I gaze on the ground, Kazuha sat next to me with his reasurring presence "Do you have the courage and confidence to do it?" I twiddled my necklace as soon he asked that, Mondstadt would be the closest and easiest nation to move in, but my motive is to move somewhere far away from him.

"Where should I go? I'm fine with any places, as long I'm 100% far from him." Kazuha discerned my desparation as he paused for a moment.

"Inazuma's beautiful sceneries are for you if rosy pink cherry blossoms are your cup of tea, you can also get a decent job there and a perfect structured home, the wind tells me it's one of the nations that would be sheltered and safe enough for you to reside in." Inazuma, the last time I heard about the electro nation was when the vision hunt decree was ongoing while it went to a lockdown, thankfully the borders have been lifted up because of traveler "Thanks for the wonderful suggestion, I'll move there as soon as possible." Congenial smiled plastered on my face, the samurai returned the smile.

"Here, he must've starved you during those 3 days." The white haired then hand me grilled tiger fish, I offer my thanks before munching the fish down. Him starving me was basically his way of showing how 'I can't live without him since he has all the privilege and mora'.

"I'll get ready by tomorrow morning, I've gathered enough mora throughout my adventures and commissions."

"No need, Beidou and I will give you a free ride." I looked at him wide shock before involving him to a genuine tight hug "Thank you... Thank you very much!" The hug I gave felt more genuine and sincere than the forced hugs I give to Childe.

As I walk my way home, I encountered traveler and Paimon then we decided to hang at wanmin restaurant, as usual I avoided their questions regarding my dissapearance "Paimon and Aether kept looking for you everywhere!! Even Childe was worried!" I dropped my gaze upon hearing the last sentence, traveler immediately took the hint then gave Paimon a look, the both of them expressed concerns as I reassured them "Don't worry, I'll be leaving liyue soon."

"Whatt!!?? You're leaving liyue!?!???" We both shut Paimon up which resulted to her apologizing "I'll be going to inazuma with the help of the crux tomorrow morning." I counted the mora on my hands "Traveler, will you accompany me to my travel?"

"Of course Y/n! Anything for you!!" Paimon gleefully accepted as Aether nodded, I express my gratitude to the two travelers before leaving soon since it's almost my curfew. The moment I saw Childe standing in front of the door froze my ability to walk.

"Why were you with the traveler earlier?" As expected, he looked pissed again "Because they're.. my friends?" I hold my breath while gripping the strap, the ginger looked unconvinced "They're also your friends right? Don't you trust them to be around me?" A sigh escaped me. At the moment, he grabbed my wrist then pull me inside, next thing I know a painful slap landed on my face "You fucking whore, I thought you already learned your lesson 2 days ago."

I clasp the red cheek before I finally had enough of it.

"So I'm not allowed to interact with humans anymore? Why is it that you get to interact with your female co workers but you can't even let me be friendly with a stranger!"

Childe was taken aback at my sudden retortion as he grip his fists "At least I don't go around being flirty with random women."

"What's wrong with you? So basic kindness is being flirty to you now?-" The sound of his hydro powers blasted against me that I was slammed on the wall before dropping to the ground. I groaned in pain as I clasp my chest and stomach for comfort "I'm sorry, you made me do it."

This moment sparked my determination to move to inazuma, I glared at my now ex boyfriend before storming into the bedroom. I sealed a lock on the door before packing my habiliments and things, a tear rushed down as I grip my own hair out of frustration "Look I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, you shouldn't have yelled at me back." At the moment, Tartaglia was banging on the door as I cower in the corner, each daunting bang on the wooden door gets defeaning, his hydro powers then blasted the door open which turned my whole body into cryo state. My safe place once now biggest nightmare gingerly walked across me with dark aura glint in his eyes, staring into his dull eyes felt like eternity as he crouch down on my form, I tear my gaze away still shivering “You don't have to do this, I have my own life, just let me go.” I impulsively bit my nails as to ease the terrifying tension between us, the ginger haired just stared at me with no emotion and not even signs of remorse on my frightened state, his gloved hands brushed a tear that escaped mine before caressing my skin gently “Never.” Childe said as he stood up then left me alone. My body petrified while my mind kept replaying past events that occurred just earlier, watching all of these unfold made me firm about my decision, I'm definitely leaving this hellhole.

Sleeping felt fast, maybe I'm too determined to leave, it's a good thing that I'm hearing the birds chirp in the morning, I can't finally wait for the day I live with my free will. The harbinger gave me a kiss and hug before heading off to his fatui duties as expected, I readied my belongings as I grab my bag and my map, I wore a hoodie incase the fatui tries to track me down before finally exiting our home.

I clutch the map near my chest like a lost bird as I reach guyun stone forest, I held my breath in staying vigilant while scanning for beidou’s ship, I hope I'm not too late..

A hand then tapped my shoulder which led the whole me into a paralyzed shock “Follow me.” My body loosened up upon hearing my friend’s name, I followed Kazuha until we reached the alcor. Along with Beidou, I saw traveler and Paimon as they beckon me to come, I take a glance behind before shooting them a smile.

As we boarded in the ship, Beidou ordered to sail the ship to inazuma, feeling a relief on my chest while gazing at liyue harbor far away “Don't worry, he can't hurt you here now.” Kazuha rubbed my back with his usual reassuring smile that calmed my senses no matter what, I sent him my gratitude before enveloping him to a warm embrace “We finally got you out of that maniac’s control! Me and Aether will promise to protect you from him no matter what!” Paimon’s jolly cheer made my heart smile as I giggled “I don't deserve any of you.. After all everything you guys did for me..” I watched the ripples course alongside the ship, the comfort of it brings me to a comforting fact that I'm away from my abuser, for the second time I felt so free the last time being a slave to the l/n household, I've finally get to make decisions on my own and talk to anyone to my desire.

It felt like days since the travel, to my surprise it only felt like 2 days, we were able to overcome the lightning strikes that surrounded the area, far away from the ship I caught the foggy view of Ritou that led to a secure smile on my face “We're almost there.” Paimon stated, I grabbed my belongings as I wear my hoodie just in case of any fatui sightings “You should create an alias so in case that harbinger knows your whereabouts, it'll make the searching hard for him.” The white haired samurai suggested, I nodded to keep in my mind.

At long last, we arrived in Ritou safe and sound before Traveler and Paimon accompanied me for a tour around inazuma. The sakura trees flow freely as the gentle breeze greets me with enthusiasm, never in my life have I felt so relieved and stress free, now that I have a bag of mora on me there's no need to worry about being drowned in debt.

After traveler and Paimon toured me around the city, I sent them my gratitude before bidding farewell, now all I need is a good night rest then I can apply for a job tomorrow.

Normally I would wake up to my hands chained on the headboard as it starts with Childe’s tedious morning kisses and hugs along with a controlling lecture, now I hear freedom birds chirping as the sun filtered through the windows as if it's greeting me for a new day, I start my breakfast with black back perch stew. When I have the time, I can learn how to make inazuman cuisines.

After eating, I decided to apply as a maid for the yashiro commission, it's one of the least I can do for the time being before I work a job I'm capable of. As I'm accepted on the job, I met a guy named Thoma, he toured me around the Kamisato estate while he teachs me the basics of housekeeping, I did learn quite a few things about cooking and cleaning during the time I was held captive at the harbinger’s house, I was also forced to do most of the household chores when I was still living with my execrable family “I assume you have knowledge about most of the housekeeping stuff?” Thoma inquired, I nodded “Yes, I am an expert at gardening stuff and cooking, though I'm yet to learn inazuma’s local cuisines.”

“Good, that saves me from explaining then, I'll teach you our local inazuman cuisines that Lady Ayaka and Lord Ayato loves.”

I shot him a curious smile as I follow him to the kitchen. On our way to the cookery, we pass by the head of the Kamisato clan before bowing our heads, I can't help but feel trapped under his gaze, the way he maintained a prolonged eye contact to me is enough to make my heart beat in a speed of light, he looked quite charming and refresh as he leave the room. Still captivated by his eyes, Thoma brought me back to reality by leading me the kitchen room.

The sun was setting down by the time I learned about inazuman cuisines, I find myself fond of their grilled unagi fillet, it's scrumptious flavor satisfies my stomach and brings new to my taste buds, I'll definitely hunt for more unagi meat “You should take some quality rest right now, we'll do more work tomorrow.” I nodded before thanking the fixer, I definitely learned a lot from him today.

As I was about to leave the estate, I suddenly hear my name being called by Lord Kamisato, I went to his office as expected “May I request a cup of herbal tea?” The head said as he jot down on his paper work like a workaholic he is “As you wish, my lord.” I bowed before taking a quick glance on his enticing face, I can't help but feel mesmerized on him as whole, his presence sends butterflies to my stomach, it's like I'm trapped under a spell.

I delivered the tea to him as he sent his gratitude, I watched him took a sip of the cup before continuing on his work, all off a sudden my body feels weak and my mind at haze.

“Do you need something?” Lord Ayato’s voice then snapped me out leading a pink faced me “N-nothing…” I can't be embarrassing myself right now… not in front of the head.. “Anything else, my Lord?”

“Ah yes, I'd like you to distribute these paper works of mine, put this one into the right folder and this one to the left folder.” He pointed on the pile of paperworks beside “Understood my Lord.” I swallowed my saliva before picking the papers up, why do I feel weak whenever I'm alone with him? I never felt this way with Childe when we first met, could it be inferiority since he's a noble?

The air in the room seems different, it's like a mix of comfy and mousy temperature, it's a good thing he hasn't picked up the sound of my beating heart while I was distributing papers, he let out a quiet sigh as he leaned on his chair for a moment, I kept distributing papers while taking sneaky looks on his face.

“Dear Y/n, if its okay with you, can you massage my back as I do my work?”

I choked for a split second before composing myself “Y-yes! Sure!” I sheepishly smiled then went to him “Pardon for my uhm.. foolish actions earlier, it was just unexpected I didn't knew how to-”

“It's alright, just do what you do.” The blue haired continued writing, I hummed then took a deep breath, I start kneading his shoulders and back before trailing down then pressed his back a little harder “Ah.. That's the spot..” he let out a sigh of relief leading to flustered me pressing my lips, I began to rub circles on his back neck “Keep going, you're doing great.” I blushed at his statement as I continued massaging, never knew I had this opportunity to please the Lord like that..

The next day I found myself dusting the windows of the estate, last night kept repeating on my mind like a catchy scene you watch on theatres, I can still smell the sweet scented perfume he has that passed on my palm, he truly is a wonderful charmer as locals say.

“Miss Y/n, the Lord would like to have a morning tea with you.” one of the maids approached me, pink faced me made a return again “G-got it..” I put the brush down as I made my way to the outdoor tea table area. And here the Lord sipped tea by himself, I can't help but notice the way he looks elegant while just sipping tea, looks like I got myself being infatuated with someone again am I?

I bowed before sitting on the cushion, I took a sip of lemon tea as I try to maintain my posture, I'm one of the luckiest people to have a morning tea with the one and only Lord Kamisato Ayato.

But now I'm starting to wonder, why me of all people? I never really stood out from people, even if I got myself a lunatic ex “You're probably wondering why I'm asking you to be around me lately.” he puts his cup on the saucer then stared into my eyes, the long eye contact made me avert his gaze due to diffidence, looking into his sky blue eyes makes me feel small everytime, is this his goal?

“Lord Kamisato, it's fine with me if you want me to be around you longer, I don't mind.” I sheepishly smiled while pretending to admire the scenic sakura trees that perfectly compliments the charming atmosphere “I see..”

The head took another sip again, finishing all the contents before putting it back down to the saucer, I twiddle my hands under the table “Actually, I asked you for a morning tea with me because you piqued my interest since you became my maid.”

I coughed into my hands while looking at him wide eyed, interesting? I don't get it, I'm just like the other maids here, working for mora.. unless their goal was to seduce Lord Kamisato which is highly possible considering the amount of love letters he has in his office “May I ask why my Lord? What's so interesting about me?”

“I'm glad you asked.” he smirked as he puts his hands together, suddenly the tension in the air feels different “I couldn't care less when someone from a different nation works for me, but when it came to you, it felt different.” I listened intently as he continued to gaze into my eyes “You may not be aware but before you arrived here, people have been talking about your heroic deeds when you saved a group of people during an earthquake in the chasm, my retainer was one of those people you put your life to.”

I can't remember when did that happened, I only recall a few things that happened during my journeys, like discovering 4 ruin guards in the guyun stone forest “My retainer remembered being shoved to a nearby land by you, they said you couldn't almost make it because the ground under you collapsed also, thankfully a certain someone managed to save you.” and that's where everything clicked in.

ꜰʟᴀꜱʜʙᴀᴄᴋꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʜᴀꜱᴍ⋆·˚ ༘ *

“It can't be, it must've been a wrong direction..” alas, I've been fooled again, looks like I never learn during my penniless days..

I crumple the treasure map before throwing it to the ground. Suddenly, I overheard a group of people discussing about a particular topic, more like an argument?

“No way, there's no way a treasure isn't here, I even checked twice for the location!”

“You do know that we’ve been tricked into this right?”

“But still, the treasure should be underground!”

The chatter continued as I eavesdrop, so I wasn't the only victim here? They seemed determined that one of them was willing to explore the dangerous underground mines, I slowly sighed to myself, if only I have that much determination…

The ground below me started shaking like crazy, I could sense hydro energy radiating on the surface. Panic entered people as they try to maintain their balance albeit the ground below them is starting to split in half. Using my remaining energy and stamina, I ran to them then shove them to a safe ground, thankfully it was the only 3 of them and I managed to save them in time, however I tripped on something which resulted to scraping my knee “Let's help the young lady!!” One of them reaches out to grab my hand but before I could grab their hand, the surface below me successfully split in half, separating me from the adventurers “Help!! Somebody-” my body lose grip before falling.

And when I thought it's my demise, someone then carried me to safety, placing me with the rest of adventurers “Oh thank rex lapis she's saved..” I panted heavily, that near death experience really made me froze and rethink my life decisions. I look at my savior and it was none other the yaksha adeptus Xiao, but how? I never called his name out “Just be careful next time, Y/n.” With that, the adeptus teleported and dissapeared.

“I called his name out, it's a relief he appeared quickly.” One of the adventurers stated, they all sent their thanks to me after saving their life then gave me mora in return. Relieved that everyone is saved, my mind still fishes answers about past events, who caused this earthquake?

✧˚ · .

The hydro energy, Childe…

No, it can't be, he was watching me the whole time? All the steps and journey I had far from home, he was silently watching me like a bird from distance.

A shiver suddenly ran down to my spine, don't tell me he's also watching me and Ayato having tea time, right?..

“Miss Y/n, is everything okay?” The head shot me a worry look “Y-yes! Just spaced out for a bit.” I chugged all of the remaining liquid from the tea.

“You sure? I swore that I saw your expression dropped for a minute.”

“No, I'm just.. a little surprised that my heroic deeds would reach here.” I chuckled wryly as the air between us suddenly got awkward “Oh, I see..” He let out a quiet chuckled, I now realized that the longer I'm with him, the more I fall.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Childe wasn't very happy when he found out, the moment he saw her drawers empty and clothes gone, only leaving her scent on the bed they shared, the world felt unreal for the harbinger as he desperately try to find traces of her sudden departure, something then clicked on his mind. Kazuha

“I'm not going to be mad, do you have any knowledge about Y/n’s whereabouts?” He ‘genuinely’ smiled as he crossed his arms, the menancing demeanor he releases makes the ronin pout in annoyance “And why do you ask?” the samurai’s response annoyed Tartaglia to the extend, how does one dare to question love?

“Because I'm her boyfriend, can't a man be concerned about their lover’s sudden dissapearance?”

“Boyfriend? Doesn't seem like a relationship thing where your significant other is afraid of your mere presence.”

Childe gritted his teeth as he balled his fists “You dare to talk to a fatui harbinger like that?” the tension was heavy between them, the wind told Kazuha that a duel will spark between both sides “Well, I couldn't care less about Y/n’s whereabouts.” he slid his gleaming blade with his fingers, the isshin blade that holds a important history from the past, compared to the breezing wind earlier, it became ominous “And even if I did, I wouldn't tell you, not even a small single hint.”

The bloodthirsty being drew his hydro sword out in response, oh he has been waiting for this perfect opportunity to duel the wandering samurai of inazuma, Kaedahara Kazuha.

“Seems like I have no choice, sorry man, you seemed nice, I only wanted to ask a simple 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.” He raise his sword up, the two men waiting for the other to make a move, as long it's for Y/n his dear friend, Kazuha will draw his blade in a heartbeat.

ꜰʟᴀꜱʜʙᴀᴄᴋꜱ ⋆·˚ ༘ *

I watch her peaceful sleeping figure from afar after our heated argument, guilt washed over me as I admire how the moonlight painted her face so well, a figure so loveable yet hard to keep..

I recount the times I held back on challenging the yaksha adeptus for particular reasons, without him maybe my precious Y/n could've perished.. but I prefer it that way, but that means I won't have her sleeping by my side this moment. I brushed a lock behind her ears, each tranquil seconds that brings comfort to my heart, alone with her is what I would wish to the 7 archons

“You're not going to leave… are you?”

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faeiapalette · 1 year

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Just wanna drop some personal opinions. I. I swear to god i have heard people complaining for a thousand times about how Ayato’s LE route was “horrible” and all of them has the same reasoning being “it’s unfair”, so i came to share my point of view:

His route wasn't even that bad? 😅 Yall r pissed bc he got treated like shit in his route (yeah, bc he hurted his brothers. He blinded Laito and broke Kanato’s leg. Accidentally or whatever.) What everyone has already known is the S boys' relationship is trash from the begining, ofc they'll act like that? Kanato the one who will scream at your face and treat you with the "idc what tf your reason is i want YOU to take responsibility" and Laito who has grudges with Ayato all the way at the begining? Then comes Reiji who tried so hard for years to become the leader/ leader's right hand man just to serve a person he view as narrow and incompetent (bruh idk about Kanato but everyone else' has something that makes others respect them for. In the Sakamaki family. Shu's smart and know how to act like a big bro when needed, Reiji's a strategist and has been studying to be the heir for years, Laito's intelligent af, and Subaru is the purest among vampires, it’s will be pretty hard to explain this now but all i can say is “it’s smth related to politics in the DL world”), with the last straw being that one hurting his own people? And Ruki who longs for the king's title, who's as dedicated to Karl as Reiji, and is able to seethrough the same Ayato who's unfit to rule all along? 💀 girl. If you people's going to play blame game, blame everyone including Ayato then. He DID made a big mistake. Even it isn't his intention to do so. Try to walk in other people's shoes (in term of mindset and feelings cuz you're oh so capable to do so when it comes to Ayato in other people's route ^^.)

This IS the route suitable for smo with the title "main hero". Because it's different from every other routes. S boys have to deal with both personal problems and their leader position. Now, what kind of personal problem does Ayato have? ^^ Egomaniac, solved. Hatred for Cordi, done in DF. Hating his father? There are some, but not as much as Laito, cuz Laito’s a big personal grudge that can make him going from borderline suicidal to try everything in everyway to khs because he has to receive smth from Karl (No takesy backsy~ Your supplier Karl’s ded). Ayato doesn't. The writers tried their best to make a big ass personal problem for him ya know ^^. 5 other routes r pretty much… peas in the same pot, but Ayato got the element of surprise 👍 Wouldn't that make his route stand out from his brothers', like what a "main hero's route" will be? ^^ Talking about surprises,

Rejet's marketing strategy. Do you know what do Ayato's Daylight aka the most “well-liked daylight cd” and Ayato's LE route have in common? They doesn't follow the stream every other routes does. They stand out. Yes. Because what people like, isn't just sweet moments and fanservices. They long for new things. Creativity. Ayato's route has both of these. Decent amount of sweet moments with Yui, a tear he never shed. So not too much Overall, balance 👍.

II. “The M boys are so narrow-minded when they be like “Aristocrats this aristocrats that” to the S boys, S boys went through traumas too”

THEY-WON’T-KNOW?????? If the S boys don’t share????? Where do you think they’d get that information from? Karl casually telling his surbonates “I traumatized my sons”? The players, aka us, know about their pasts because Rejet puts them in every opening of the prolouge/ epilogues, so we can read their thoughts, sympathize with them, whatever, but can the M boys/ any other boys see them too? You finish the puzzle.

(Trivial matter, if my memories is correct M boys, (for example Kou) have been showing sympathy everytime S boys told them something about their past (in that drama cd where 2/3 of the triplet doing recalls about Cordi’s cooking)).

In conclusion, the “narrow-minded” one is the one saying the similar statement above. ^^

III. There’s no “main character” in otome games.

I don’t think i have to explain the reason, since someone has already said that out loud (“If there’s one “main character”, what are the other 12 for?”, i recall) And i thought everyone knows this already. Because there’s has already been a term for that in the otoge community, being “posterboy”. Yes. The one appearing in almost every posters, the one having the most screentime if the project has an anime adaption, whose cd is the 1st ever to be released. Ect. So. Let’s talk about Young Blood. I see a lot of people thinks that “Oh the story revolves around Ayato and Karl in this manga favors Ayato more than any other sons of his. He must be the main character. If otherwise, why didn’t they make 5 more mangas?” Have you ever thought about how making 5 more manga, with the same plot would spill the budget and no company is dumb enough to not realize that so they just do one that revolves around their representative aka the posterboy and let their audiences do the math that if we change to other boys’ perspective the story would go on the same way (with some tiny events/ details being changed?)

I hope people grow some perspective.

IV. Nothing much. I’m just a little disappointed on how most people i’ve seen here have nothing to say about but how “nice and helpful” the boys is (judging characters based on their moral. I mean there’s more to talk about than just that?)

V. Ruki along with Reiji, Kanato and Laito (idk about other boys) are the most misunderstood character in this fandom (Ruki alone, all because people doesn’t understand his action and try to rationalize them in their own one-way, tunnel-liked, logically wrong way of reasoning, causing the action to look totally stupid and meaningless. Even some resources of him are translated wrong causing even more misunderstandings. (By the way, Reiji fans, Kanato fans, please tag me in posts solving misconceives about your oshi please. I would love to read them. 😔) P/s: Oh and something about Ruki, ofc him killing that cat is wrong, no question asked 👍 Though “=> He should not be entrusted with a pet of all kind bc he’ll kill them” + “=> he hates cats” is also wrong (yall be paying too much attention to the cat and forgot about the bird scene. Those birds he refused to feed. Did he lay a hand on them may i ask?)

#diabolik lovers #personal opinion

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rheiple · 1 year

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FazShorts

Drabbles

▪︎SUMMARY↦ Ever know what kind of shenanigans do you have to deal with when you're with the famous celestial twin bots?

▪︎CHARACTER/s↦ Sun x Reader x Moon

▪︎WARNING/s↦ Cussing, ooc Sun and Moon on the second Part but it's all for cracc purposes

▪︎WORD COUNT↦ 633; 737; 726

▪︎AUTHOR'S NOTE↦ MY PHONE DIED ON ME SO I COULDN'T POST THIS LAST NIGHT😭😭 Man Im having a bad luck this day rn ☠☠ These Drabbles are in a different timeline (timezone?idfk)and is kind of unedited so I apologize for that🕴

Part I, Part II [Here]

Your Problem, My Problem, Our Problem

"C'mon guys! These aren't bad!"

"Sunny get the fuck away from us."

"Language!"

The sun themed animatronic tried to convince his two best friends... Who are currently hugging each other to death at a corner he trapped them in.

He sighed. Well, it's better than nothing he guessed. This is a much better outcome than he thought it would.

A plan to get you guys to get along.

For the past few weeks, he noticed that you and Moonie were getting rather passive aggressive with each other. And that's not good at all! He doesn't want to see his friends fight all the time!

He knew he needed to stop the conflict between you two, and what better way to make them friends with the use of their dislikes?

Dangling the cockroach on his right hand and the other holding the mouse, he took a small step forward. "See guys? These aren't harmful!"

You tried to shrink yourself on Moon's chest, whilst the other tried to hide behind your back.

Letting out a shaky sigh, you tried to think of a way to stop Sun from getting any closer.

"S-sunny, Sweetie, Sunshine. I love you, but I swear to God please put them back to where they belong- actually scratch that, get them out of the damn building please."

"But they're just little creatures! And besides, I saw an article on the internet about how they're actually clean!"

You feel Moon shifting behind you. You didn't bother looking back incase the Sun tried to do something without your gaze on him.

The lunar themed animatronic glarad at his counterpart. He started off with a grumble then began speaking properly... as proper as he can you guessed.

"Sunny... You and I both know that those evil fucks came from the shitty ass drain. The drains are connected to the sewers- and do I have to mention that the smelly sewers are one of the most filthy fucking places to ever exit on this planet??"

The sun robot clenched his teeth. He grinned wider, trying to conceal his annoyance.

"Y'know Moonie, my hands are getting kind of sweaty everytime you cuss... They might just slip out of my grasps anytime now!"

"Eat a-"

"-Sunny."

Both turned to put their attention on you.

Looking up at the solar animatronic, you told him, "Sunny.. Please, put them away and let's talk.. I don't know what we did wrong but we're sorry and we don't know how to make it up to you.."

"Starshine.. you and Moonie didn't do anything wrong."

You furrowed your brows. "What?"

Moon tilted his head to the side, looking at him with confusion. "Then what.. is all this for?"

The sun looked away, putting his hands behind his back. "Well.. You guys weren't getting along for the past few weeks and I got scared! I thought that you guys would end up breaking your friendship because of something and well- I thought this would be a good Idea to make you guys get along!"

"Oh..." Was all you and Moon both said.

You scared your neck, looking rather embarrassed. "We're sorry Sun, we- umm we didn't mean to make you think we hate each other..."

Now it was him who furrowed his mechanic brows. Tilting his head to the side, he asked; "...You guys aren't mad at each other?"

Moon covered his mouth with one hand, looking away. "We.." He lets out a few fake coughs. "We... did something.."

"What something?"

You tugged on Moon's ribbon, a signal to do something before he reacts. "We... we're stressed because.."

"Because..?"

"...We broke your art kit."

...

The sun blankly stared at the both of you.

It wasn't long before he smacked the rat on Moon's face and made the cockroach flew inside your clothes.

Demonic Guardians

'Go back! We aren't suppose to do this! They're going to get mad at us if they caught us!'

"If they caught us."

The moon themed animatronic halted his movement, shrinking himself at the shadow of a building as to not get seen.

You're looking behind you, gazing at nothing. A few minutes passed and you started to walk on your merry way.

He waited, until your a feet away from him and that's where he began his little travel.

The sun tried to force the Moon to go back at the Pizzaplex, opted to wait for you there tomorrow instead of following you to your house.

Yet, with just a few words, he told him something that would distract him with that thought.

"Why wait when we could just follow them to their abode?.. To have them all to ourselves, and to watch over them as no vile creatures will ever lay any harm upon them... You and I are two sides of the same coin, we both missed them dearly after the incident... Surely, waiting for them is not enough now, is it?"

'...'

"..I thought so too."

The sound of jiggling keys both caught their attention. The nighttime attendant hid behind your neighbor's house, waiting for you to go inside safely and to invite himself in.

'What are going to do once you've gotten in?'

"And why do you want to know, Sunny boy?"

'I don't have to read your mind to know you're going to do something bad.'

The lunar bot snickered. "As if I haven't done anything "bad" in the first place... And why bother asking if you already know?"

'Shh, they're sleeping."

"..Already?"

They look at the window of your living room to see you passed out on the couch, in a... neck breaking position.

'Leaving the curtains open and sleeping in a bad position that the outcome for their posture would be terrible? We'll definitely have to fix that.'

The moon would have teased him for getting too caught up in this just like him, but he was too busy breaking in with by opening the window.

...click!

Quietly, as the skilled guard bot that he is, went inside to your room, closed the window, and finally went his way to you.

He changed your sleeping pose into a comfortable one, and went to get the blanket at your room to cover your darling self from the cold.

..With all that done, he... just sat down and stared at you.

Shifting from side to side, you scratched your head because of how itchy your pillow is being.

This went on a few minutes, until you looked to your side...

To see a shadow of a demon.

Your eyes went wide at this, however you didn't bother moving from your place. You tried to see what it looks like...

It looks, familiar in someway.

The shadow has four triangles on the sides of his round face. It seems to be wearing a hat... And it has four arms.

Now that you think about it, is it really a shadow? You know it's not suppose to look like it's solid and touchable. And as far as you're concerned, a shadow doesn't have pupils.

And with how big it is, you can't ignore the churn of fear in your stomach. However, with the moonlight shining some little parts of your room, it only gave you little comfort.

You assumed that that was your sleep paralysis demon, and well...

You just, stared at it. Until you're tired again and peacefully went back to sleep.

"Hey Sunny." You called for him while wiping a table at the Daycare.

His name coming out of your mouth made him jump onto his core, almost dropping the toys, but he was more concerned with how you lacked... a tone or emotion when you called for him.

He asked. "Y-yes Starshine?"

You did one last swipe at the table, and then proceeded to go on the other. "I think I just have my first sleep paralysis."

"..oh?"

You took the remaining trash on the table. "Yea. And you know what? The sleep paralysis demons looked just like you and Moon combined. It was kind of crazy how real that felt you know."

He nervously laughed, not before replying with. "That's... something.."

"I know right."

'..Moon?'

The second bot hummed inside their shared minds.

'We are never doing that again.'

Make Your Move

Sweeping the floor of your living room, you hummed along to the music on the radio.

Today is nice day to clean the house you thought mindlessly. It was rather a sunny day too, and it feels so lovely that you can't help but blast some music to help you keep intertained.

"Starshinneee! We're finished watering the garden!" Your sunny boyfriend yelled at from the backdoor.

Ah yes, Sun and Moon. You almost forgot they're here in your house for now.

You remembered, one night you were watching a news on the TV about a certain building was burning down. You immediately ran to the said building and saved the boys from "dying".

You chuckled, at the thought of not believing you're still alive with the stupid stunt that you pulled.

But as corny as it sounds, you're glad to see them well and "alive".

That thought alone made your cheeks warmer, you only noticed it now how much impact they have on you.

Shaking your head, you brushed the thought off and answered him back. "Yea Sunny?"

You noticed the music of the radio just ended, and is now playing a short commercial of a phone brand.

The Daycare Attendants peeked their heads at the hallway.

"Hello, Starlight.." The Moon greeted, grinning from ear to ear.

You raised your brow. "Did you do something Moonie?"

Putting his hand on his chest with a faux expression, he leaned onto his Sunny counterpart. "Now is that a way to greet your dear friend? I'm hurt, Starlight."

"Yea? Well why don't you both come in already and help me clean up."

The bots giggled and both took one step inside...

And unfortunately, the commercial ended. And a new song began to play...

The start of the song are 4 drum beats (you don't know what kind of drums) and then the sound of a saxophone..

It's feels.. familiar...

But the music.. it's... intimate.. too intimate.

You've heard this song before. How could you not? You've been on the internet ever since you were like 5. You remembered how they would use it for memes, and not to mention your mom would play this on the speaker whenever she cleans the house.

Ah, this song both brings back memories.

And right now, you're betting your sweet ass that in this day you'll be making a new memory with this song, and with your two favorite robots.

'Woah-oh-woah, o-oh~'

The two boys had a shock expression on their face as soon as they noticed how... romantic the song feels.

And if you look closely, you would see a shade of yellow (for Sun) and blue (For Moon) on their cheeks.

'I feel so unsure

As I take your hand and lead you to the dance floor

As the music dies, something in your eyes

Calls to mind a silver screen

And all its sad good-byes'

But, as soon as their shock came, it went away just as quick. Instead replacing it with ... a rather smug look.

They really didn't wanna pass up the opportunity to tease you, don't they?

'I'm never gonna dance again

Guilty feet have got no rhythm

Though it's easy to pretend

I know you're not a fool~'

Sunny was the first one to speak up, putting a hand on his mouth to try and cover up his laughter. "My Starshine, are you suggesting something? You sure are bold with your moves there, Sunshine~"

Immediately hearing that, you pointed accusingly at the both of them. "You- I didn't do any of this! You guys literally saw me do nothing to the radio!"

'I should've known better than to cheat a friend

And waste the chance that I'd been given

So I'm never gonna dance again

The way I danced with you, oh'

The lunar bot puts his hands on his hips. Wiggling his brows at you. "Are you sure you didn't planned this Starlight?... Or perhaps the radio is helping you make your move?.. I certainly wouldn't waste the opportunity if I were you~"

You took a pillow from the couch and threw it at them, distracting them with it while you dashed to your room to avoid the teasing.

But the last sentence that Moon said made you think of it for a second.. what the hell does he mean by that?

#fnaf x reader #fnaf sb x reader #security breach x reader #sundrop x reader #sun x reader #moondrop x reader #is it me or are my works not seen in the hashtags that i use/put in my fics 🕴#how do i undo that someone pls tell me🧎‍♂️#fnaf sb #moon x reader #moondrop x you #sundrop x you #moon x you #sun x you #did you know that the third drabble is actually inspired by real events ☠#it happened to me 🧎‍♂️

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hekaates · 1 year

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open letter to ems (part ii) — @officialjimmybuffet

Hey bitch. Happy birthday

First time it’s just a letter, second it’s a pattern, how long until it counts as tradition?

Maybe it’s weird but I started to write this letter on December 13th, 2022. 179 days until your birthday but I felt the need to start writing this, felt the need to put my sentiments into words.

Yesterday I sent you 18 audios, several minutes each of course, explaining you in deep detail the plot of the first Avatar movie. I watched it alone after my mom went to sleep and to be frank Im kind of glad she did or else she’ll catch me crying over the scenery of a planet that doesn’t exist, from a movie that I’m pretty sure doesn’t pass the Belchdel test (update: it does not, everything is about Jake Sully and his terrible habits). It’s sitting in the bathroom floor all alone, waiting for people to stop screaming at each other that makes me realize how much I needed you in my life, how much I need, and will need someone who understands and compliments (as in complementary) me as well as you do. I like Avatar because I’m insane, but also because I see someone so lost and so insane in their own world they have to go literally to another planet to find a home, because somehow they do and I think, fuck maybe I could to. Looking back at it, the fact Jakes best friend is a short haired ginger scientist (healthcare science is a science right?) might make it even more close to home. (I hope in the end of this story, I don’t turn blue and you die and come back reincarnated as my daughter, but if you do it’d be hilarious and pretty on brand for us).

Everytime I remember you exist I am no longer alone. One time we were talking about the saints (this phrase in itself explains our relationship better than any other thing I can say here) and we said: I’d pick your saint if you pick mine. I remember the first time I wrote it, I looked at the screen, I looked at me and I looked at you (the only way I can, deep inside my mind) and I realize that with no other person this sentiment would make sense, no other person could I send a message at 22h explaining the in-depth history of Brazilian reality shows and make it so that I’m not insane or annoying or terrible, no other person would I search the deep webs of Wikipedia to find out what Saint was killed on June 10 (ps. It’s Saint Olivia, that’s my sisters name).

Saint Emma is the keeper of pharmacy, Saint Luisa the keeper of grief, somewhere along the lines God made it so we can meet and this would make a little bit too much sense.

I want to thank you for always holding my hand, even if have never touched, even if we never do. Times passed, I forget to write and now your birthday is in 4 days and now it is in 2 days and I find myself plagued by a loneliness only you can fill (I think this is the gayest sentence I’ve ever wrote and that’s saying something). Right now I look at the sun and it’s 4pm here so it means that in the other side of the world it’s 3pm and you are looking at the same sun, as the sunlight burns the right side of my face I can’t help but wonder if right now, in the other side of the hemisphere, it burns the left side of your face, that in the sunlight our faces meet and become one (again, really going for the gayness vibe rn).

The only future I am content with is the one I have you by my side, it’s the one I can call you to spend christmas with my family be it next to a British young star celebrity or not (but like if god wants him to spend several christmases with me then like I can’t say no right that’s on God not me right anyways I’m getting of track-) In the good ending it’s Christmas afternoon and I’m sitting by the pool showing you how to open an earl fruit or a persimmon while my siblings play with the speaker. In the good ending we’re in a club in New Jersey and I have no idea how to order a drink, in the good ending, when the movie is about to be done I grab your hand and say “hey.”

So, yeah.

Hey.

#emma tag #anyways congrats on being born ig idk #texts #nothing to see here folks just common Emma birthday mayhams

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itsanotheridiot · 2 years

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Honestly after seeing Vol II ST4 wasn’t that good HEAR ME OUT btw ima be talking abt writing choices and the possible queerbaiting OBVIOUSLY SPOILERS AHEAD

First let’s start with the queer baiting B*ler it been revealed to us that Will is gay after his speech to Mike abt how Mike the heart of the party. Literally if you go re-listen to Will’s speech and replace everytime he said “El” or “her” with “I’m” or “I” honestly still has the same emotional value hell probably more since Will would be admitting his feeling WE AS A AUDIENCE can even tell Will talking abt himself but in the end Will is there just to uplift M*eleven in the end.

Next Robin and Vickie they felt like a cheap shot at getting praise for trying for LGBT+ rep I mean Vickie have like what 5mins of screen time and I’m supposed to care for them but at least they left the two on a good note.

I know there are some who are going to say “BuT ItS tHe 80s” honestly go fuck yourself the whole point of this show is being a outcast and finding other outcast to make a found family of so the chance of a few characters in the gang being queer is a likely possibility

Now I wanna talk abt the shitty writing because Vol I by it self looks amazing but now seeing the ending I’m disappointed. Focusing on Max’s storyline this season we can tell it abt depression and suicide basically mental health in general just looking at “Dear Billy” it holds a GREAT message abt not letting depression take control of you and over coming it but accepting the support from those who love you. It was a powerful prefect message then you watch the finale and Max fuckin dies loses her eyes and have 3/4 of her bones snapped only to get resurrected and put in a goddamn coma it took away the message for “Dear Billy”

But I will admit the writing did have some good choices like acknowledging that Johnathan and Will hasn’t been as close as they used too or Steve admitting he has improved as a person after Nancy dumped him.

Idk I just needed to get some of this off my chest honestly add to this is you want or give me your opinion I would love to hear what anyone has to say abt this

-Rainy

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #st4 #max mayfield #robin buckley #will byers #mike wheeler #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #johnathan byers #fuck the duffers

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bl6ckr0s3 · 11 months

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Finding My Happy Place

I have been in such a deep mental depression that I couldn’t get myself to vent on here. I haven’t picked up the phone to called to speak to a counselor the way I said I would, but something is holding me back from going that route for some reason even though it may be more effective in dealing with my stress & anxiety. One of the bids that I put in at work actually gave me a break in getting out of tour 1. I got a tour 3 bid at the 010/020 area. Apparently, that bid assignment involves going to clear the mailboxes and the mail from the lobby and processing them through the big purple machine in the corner of the building across from one of the dock doors. It’s a 3pm-11:30pm shift. This will definitely be a big break for me going back to my regular shift. I hope that this job will be a lot better, and it will surely be a relief having to be stuck on Robot 3.

I hated my job so much to the point where I called out every week and I gotten an II last week. An interview investigation is basically sort of a write up. My main reason for missing work is because my body is not liking the shift and it has messed up my sleeping schedule. It would be nice not to have to drag my feet going into the workplace late at 11pm anymore. They wonder why so many people called off work at night? They need to use their common sense.

During the safety meeting last night, my supervisor talked about a fight happened during one of the orientations. How did that happened? I have no idea. Maybe the company needs to use their brain and stopped lowering their standards in the way they hire people. I remember having to take a test and a drug test in order to be hired. Now they are not doing either. This is a federal job and they are supposed to.

Josh has finally gotten hired with Graceland, his dream job that he can actually retire with if his dreams never came true. His mom even told him it wasn’t a good idea to be doing that, so now I gotta go through the trouble of waiting to be transferred to Memphis, one of the worst places to be around because it’s considered the #2 highest crime rate area. I heard stories of shootings and things that have happened there. Why couldn’t Elvis have his Graceland in Nashville instead of Memphis? Memphis is basically like South Central throughout the whole town, maybe except for part of downtown. Even downtown itself looks all runned down. I’m worried about something happening there more than I was worried when I was in Los Angeles considering I grew up and lived around the area most of my life.

I ended up missing my court hearing when they said it would cost $72 to be at the hearing telephonically, what a bunch of bullshit. I would’ve expected them to charge somewhere between $20-$50 but not close to $100. I was sitting here wondering if I will actually get to see my son because his father is a controlling asshole douchebag. When I messaged Wilma and she completely ignored me, now I see how she’s playing that game. After all that being nice to her face, allowing her to meet my family, I should’ve known maybe she was just being fake. So I decided that from now on, I’m not really gonna put any trust in her even if she does take good care of my son. Sometimes I wonder if she enjoys taking my son away from me beside his father? If something happens between those 2, I’m gonna ignore her and not give a fuck. If she only wants to talk to me everytime Ricky hurts me, she’s got bigger issues. I sort of hope he fucking hurts her and I hope they are still arguing and are miserable everyday. I will just sit here and say, I wouldn’t know what else to tell you. I told her everything she needed to know about how he is and his past and she made a choice to still stay with him for my son. It’s on her. I will keep her message open and unblocked, but I won’t really socialize with her anymore unless I truly have to. I have to remember that she’s sided with my enemy. This Saturday is suppose to be the first video chat I have with my son since I left California. His father actually messaged me to make plans for the video chat. He will plan on leaving his laptop near his crib so I can at least watch him. I’m not sure whether Lim will be able to understand that I am going to try to communicate with him over video chat. I have to start messing with the Zoom and see how I am able to open up a chat thing through it. If I have problems with it, I can always try Skype or something. There’s plenty of free video apps to use.

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imalwaysconfuzzled · 3 years

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Iroh II Headcanons

Iroh II never got to meet his namesake and vice versa. When Iroh II was born, it was to great merriment and to lingering mourning from the recent loss of Uncle Iroh. It was one of the bigger factors that prompted Izumi to name her son after the beloved tea-maker.

When he got the news, Uncle was very excited at the idea of babies in the palace once more, especially in post-war times, but knew that he would never get to meet the new baby and so spent much of the time he visited the Fire Nation in those nine months speaking to the unborn royal in his mother’s belly. Neither expecting parent suspected anything but the usual doting Uncle.

Uncle wrote a letter to Iroh II before he passed. It is a treasured item as one of the only things Iroh II has from his namesake and helps him feel connected to the important figure in his grandfather and mother’s (and extended family’s) stories.

Iroh II learned both lightning generation and redirection in honour of his great-uncle.

Iroh II has a very similar relationship with his grandfather, as Zuko did with Iroh (of course without the banishment, fugitive status, etc). Zuko teaches Iroh bending when he can using the teachings of his Uncle, he offers advice, love, support and most importantly tea.

Iroh II thinks the person who closest resembles his namesake is his grandfather.

Iroh II grew up hearing about the feats of his grandfather and his friends, as well as the tales of their children, which inspired him to make name of himself and eventually joined the United Republic’s military later in life.

He got a lot of teasing for looking and sounding like his grandfather by The Gaang as a teenager. When he got annoyed or grumpy it got worse.

He and Bumi had a very professional relationship when they were working together, but outside of work they were a riot. Bumi dragged Iroh II to do some wild things and Iroh II dragged Bumi to do some even wilder things. They keep secrets about what to this day.

Iroh II had an irrational fear of the palace turtleducks as a child; he refused to go near the gardens when they were around. He grew out of it as adult but remained wary.

Iroh II was better than Zuko was at understanding proverbs but not a whole lot more. Subsequently, Zuko got better a proverbs as he got older and likes to confuse his grandson on occasion (imagine the emperor from Mulan 1998, especially that last scene he’s in).

Iroh II liked to hide behind the curtains in the throne room to watch his grandfather conduct meetings when he was younger and would imitate what he saw later; thus developed similar habits.

Iroh II and his sister were born with a larger age gap and he would go full big brother on her, even when she became and adult and didn’t need a protector anymore.

Iroh II genuinely likes the Ember Island Players.

Out of the two of them, his sister is the bolder one; but they both inherited some of their grandfather’s recklessness to the exasperation of their mother (who got her parent’s stubbornness).

#atla #Avatar The Last Airbender #atla headcanon #iroh #iroh II #zuko #the gaang #lok #did I need to put ii everytime?#probs not but consistency #izumi

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firein-thesky · 3 years

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COIN TOSS– PART III

(18+ MINORS DNI)

PART I → PART II

PAIRINGS: Tomura Shigaraki x Reader, a little Shouta Aizawa x Reader

SUMMARY: As you fall asleep, you wonder faintly, almost sadly, if you’re the first thing he’s fully touched without losing in a long time.

You are Eraserhead’s troubled protege with a Quirk that cancels out others the moment they touch you. Tomura Shigaraki takes great interest in you.

(Enemies to lovers, a lot of angst, some hurt/comfort)

WARNINGS: Unhealthy/complicated relationships, age gap/power struggle, violence, gore, Tomura’s trauma specifically, (in later chapters) murder, smut, some blurred lines, rough sex, a smidge of a spit kink, a smidge of somnophilia (let me know if I’ve missed anything!)

If you are under the age of 18, you should not be reading or interacting with this!

↳ A playlist I made for this fic, if you're interested!

A/N: here is your final part to this series! again, thank you @randomrosewrites for beta-ing this!! and thank you guys so so much for your support and comments, they mean so so much to me!! i had a lot of trouble with this last part, there was a lot of scenes i cut out and alternative endings before i settled on what is there now and i'm not even fully happy with it still lol. i have a lot of Thoughts about this, so feel free to reach out if you want to know more or just chat!! i hope you guys enjoy this!!

Read on Ao3

***

Shouta apologizes to you soon after. You sheepishly get out your own apology, even though you’d planned on holding a grudge a little while longer.

Still, Shouta confides that he also had his doubts and worries as a young hero and that he shouldn’t have dismissed yours. He talks in a soft, low voice for you, sits beside you on the edge of the couch.

You hate it because it’s easier to be at odds with Shouta lately, easier for your conscience. He put distance between the two of you, but you forced it apart further– if only to keep him in the dark. Maybe if only to spare yourself all the lying, all the pretending you’d have to do.

He says, “You know, you can always come to me. Whenever you need me.”

You have to swallow hard around the lump in your throat.

“I’ll always be here for you, despite everything.” he promises gently, trying to catch your eyes. Your gaze ducks away, out of his line of site.

Still, you hug him, tuck your face into his shoulder so he can’t see the guilt written across your face. Your secrets will constrict around you if you’re not careful. You know Truth is tricky and likes to reveal itself with Time’s help.

Once more, you become acutely aware of the clock ticking away on your relationship with Tomura.

But this time, you also realize how much trouble you could get in. You realize that you’re endangering Shouta now, too. You swallow hard, try to keep all of that down inside of you, but you feel nauseous suddenly. Bloated with guilt.

You wonder if you would’ve confessed to him then, if you would’ve spilled your guts the way you’d wanted to, if it would’ve saved you the heartache of it all.

Instead, you’d just clung to him, little fingers twisting in the back of his shirt, praying that you’d never need to make good on his promise. Praying you’d never need to test how far he’d go for you.

(It’s far– you’ll realize, further than it ever should’ve been. And you’re all the worse for it.)

***

Tomura thinks one of the troubles with heroes is their willingness to sacrifice anything for their greater good. He doesn’t think there’s anything noble in it, there’s nothing glorious or good in leaving their friend behind because they think it will save more. Nothing honorable in facing down a threat you know you can’t win against alone. What good is their world if they’re willing to sacrifice all that’s good to them in the process?

Everytime he watches you patrol, go up against other villains, maybe yakuza members, throw yourself in harm’s way needlessly, he realizes the Hero Commission uses heroes’ bodies as collateral damage. You are nothing to them. Even to other heroes; your sacrifice is expected. He knows it isn’t wanted, per se, but it isn’t surprising.

It doesn’t help that you have a streak of recklessness in you. You are quick to danger, just as quick to flash teeth and stand your ground, to fight mercilessly.

You struggle against large, powerhouse types. He watches you nearly get crushed or strangled some nights. Your Quirk doesn’t do much for you when your opponent has strength and weight to defeat you with a singular blow.

Your mentor is often pulling you out of danger with his capture weapon, yanking you away from a massive swinging arm or a curled fist about to smash you into the ground. But if it came down to you or the greater good, he knows what your mentor and your heroes would pick.

He thinks it’s strangely unfair, for you to give them your loyalty over him. He’s more loyal to you, isn’t he? There is very, very little he wouldn’t destroy for you. They would sooner let you be destroyed for the sake of their world.

Destroying the hero society that is so careless with you now feels, in part, like his gift to you. Freedom from the world that only cared about you when they realized you could be useful–

There is a night you become not just useful to your heroes but imperative.

It starts with your sacrifice, just as you were trained to do. You shove a civilian out of the way of a villain’s Quirk– it’s something with tusks and teeth that jut out from his body, sharp and ready to gut you.

Your mentor is busy with this villain’s accomplice.

Tomura watches when he shouldn’t. He was supposed to meet with Kurogiri, but he knows you patrol in this area and when there’d been commotion, he couldn’t help but watch from the shadows.

He watches one of those tusks jut towards you, your hand reaching out in hopes of disengaging the Quirk. But it’s a physical Quirk, not something like Dabi’s fire or his disintegration. And he doesn’t know if this Quirk disengages with it’s user or if it’s just his body.

Tomura feels his heart drop, the trapdoor given way to all icy fear as he watches one of those tusks pierce into your stomach.

Tomura stops breathing.

You grab hold of it, a scream getting caught behind your clenched teeth. Your fingers are tight, near frantic as you press into them– hope with everything in you, in him, that his Quirk disengages with yours.

Your broken off scream is wretched from your struggling body when another tusk rushes to crash into your shoulder.

You’re the only thing between the civilians behind you and this villain.

Your other hand reaches for the tusk at your shoulder, digging fingers and nails into it desperately.

Your eyes are bright and feverish with the hot pink of your Quirk.

Tomura stutters towards you, before the villain let’s out a pained groan. Your teeth are bared, blood bubbling up in your mouth, but you’re still standing, vicious and undeterred.

The tusks begin to crack where you grip them, splintering apart–

A sudden fission of light through those crevices, same fire pink as your eyes, arcs throughout the villain. A flare of it that makes the villain almost see-through, the lines of his bones burned by light, an x-ray flash, as if you’d struck him with lightning for a moment.

Eraserhead shouts for you.

When the flare dies, there is a scream of pain and it’s not yours.

The tusks shatter, splinter apart into gleaming bone that flies through the air.

You’re left standing, blood oozing from your stomach, your shoulder, but still standing, your eyes crackling and too bright.

The villain, tuskless, crumples at your feet, smoking. A normal, Quirkless looking man.

Did you–?

“What happened?” he hears the distant voice of your mentor, laced with worry, whose already reaching to staunch blood, blood that seeps so dark out of you. Tomura’s stomach rolls, twists suddenly, but you’re still standing. You’re okay– you’re okay–

“I-I don’t know.” you manage, but you sway into your mentor’s arms and Tomura has to look away, jaw clenched tight, swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat.

He hears, “I need an ambulance– there’s a hero and villain down–”

But he’s already turning away, his mind churning, trying to keep the nauseousness from overcoming him. He feels suddenly furious, that it can’t be him at your side, that he has to watch, pushed to the outskirts. His fingers rush to scratch at his neck, his throat, desperate for relief from the pressure that has built in his chest.

He will try to call you– later, much later– the only time you’ll answer him. He is certain you will be okay with your healers and–

He thinks of the flare of light, the breaking of those tusks, the sudden heap of that man on the ground. If Tomura is correct about what you’d done, about what your Quirk actually is, the heroes won’t let you die now.

No, now you’re imperative. Now you’re trapped.

And the destruction of hero society will be his gift to you, an end to all the strings in place, the hands holding you both back.

***

“You destroyed his Quirk.”

“W-what?” you manage to get out, wobbly. You’re bandaged up, your torso and shoulder wrapped in fresh gauze after Recovery Girl healed the worst of your wounds. You’d been sleeping, hooked up to an IV to aid you in recovering. “That’s not possible, my Quirk only cancels–”

The doctor that has entered to give you this news shakes his head, “No, we’ve done scans, tests, the works on this guy. His Quirk is gone from his DNA. No trace of it.”

Shouta, who's sitting beside your hospital bed, speaks up, “Is it possible that it will eventually return?”

“I suppose, but we think it’s unlikely. It’s gone from him. There’s nothing left. She destroyed it cleanly. It’s like it was never there at all.” The doctor answers.

“I don’t understand–” you manage to get out, your head beginning to swim, giving a painful throb at your temples.

“It seems your Quirk isn’t so simple as cancelling out another’s. It’s likely that subduing other’s Quirks was just the surface of yours.”

“Is the man okay otherwise?” Shouta asks now, fidgeting in his seat when he senses your sudden distress. He leans towards your bed more and you have the sudden urge to latch onto him and not let go.

“Physically, yes. He’s fine.” the doctor answers, “However, mentally...he’s inconsolable at the moment. As you know, Quirks are incredibly– well, they’re a part of who we are, aren’t they?”

You swallow hard around the lump in your throat.

You think Shouta says something else, finishes speaking to the doctor for you. The moment the door clicks shut, the tears that you stubbornly had been holding back rush forward.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” you get out on just a hissed breath. “I-I didn’t know I could.”

Shouta shushes you gently, “It’s okay, this happens. Sometimes people don’t know the full extent of their Quirk.”

“I destroyed his Quirk, it’s not okay!” you respond, guilt thickening inside of you, dragging you down heavy, clogging your throat and chest. “I didn’t mean to do that– what if I do it again?”

“You were under distress,” he soothes, reaching out to brush a tear away from your cheek, “Really, you were fighting for your life.” And when he says it, something gets caught in his throat. Something hitches in yours, too.

His eyes rove over your face slowly, taking you in carefully, as if he hasn’t been by your side the entire time. As if it wasn’t him in the ambulance, or him kneeling beside your bed when Recovery Girl put you back together.

“I should’ve been there. It shouldn’t have happened.” Shouta admits, the confession filling the small space between you two.

You take him in now, too, tired and worried, his face finally displaying the fear and care he has for you. It softens out his features, turns his eyes gentle and dark.

You realize suddenly that you miss him. You miss quiet nights on his couch as he graded papers. You miss his clothes and his cats and the tenderness that blossomed in all your silent spaces to fill you both out.

You wonder if he misses you as bad as you’re realizing you miss him.

You think of him cooking for one again, eating alone, and it does something horrible to your heart– mangles it, twists it up horribly.

It’s made all the worse because you’re lying to him. And here he is, at your bedside.

“S’okay, Shouta,” you get out, reaching up to touch his cheek with a trembling hand. He leans into the touch, letting his eyes flutter shut for a moment. He savors your touch in a way that he hasn’t ever allowed himself to before.

But after a moment, he shakes his head fractionally, and he murmurs “I’m supposed to protect you.”

You don’t know why, but your bottom lip wobbles. Big, fat tears well up in your eyes, burn hot and put pressure on your already foggy head. You feel like you’re unraveling, your chest all swollen and tender, too, aching horribly.

You can’t decide if it’s because you’re lying and disobeying him so badly or because no one has ever bothered to say something like that to you, let alone mean it.

And you’re betraying him, your mind hisses.

When he notices, his face falls, his thumb moving to try and brush away your tears. “Don’t cry,” he hushes, “I’m sorry, don’t cry.”

You lean into his large and warm palm at your cheek, let him cradle and coddle you.

“I-I’m sorry–” you barely manage to choke out, for reasons far beyond him.

“No,” he coos, “No, sweetheart, don’t apologize.”

You choke on a sob and he grows more worried, leans over you more, brings his other hand up to stroke at your hairline, too.

He says your name softly, trying to soothe you, “Why are you crying, huh? What are you apologizing for?”

You shake your head, more tears loosening, your small fingers twisting themselves in the shoulders of his shirt. You think you’ll drown in all this guilt, it’ll fill your lungs with pressure, choke you out slowly as you struggle and thrash.

But for now, all you get out is a warbled, slurred, “Please don’t hate me–”

Shouta moves then, shifts to sit beside you on the bed. He’s painfully careful with you as he slides strong and sturdy arms beneath you, lifts you slightly into his lap, mindful of your IV, and cradles you to him.

You bury your face into his chest and try to hold back another sob as he murmurs, “Why would I hate you? I could never hate you.”

He strokes your hair, he hushes your cries, rocking you gently. Rocking you until you can stop crying, until you’re exhausted and aching and tender.

“I’ll help you with your Quirk,” he promises gently, holding you tight to him, “We’ll be okay, huh?” he murmurs, and it just forces another cry out of you, swallowed up by his chest that he cradles you to, “We’ll be okay, sweetheart.”

It’s the we’ll in that sentence that makes you squeeze him tighter. You wonder how willing he’d be to use it if he knew where you were every other night, who you filled your time with.

If he knew who called you late that night, when you’re alone in your room, aching and sore and alone. If he knew who you answered to, your voice hushed in the inky darkness;

“Tomura,” you exhale his name through the receiver.

“I saw what happened,” he answers instead, “I saw what happened today.”

You can feel the sudden jump of your heart, your nerves wringing themselves tight. “Oh,” you respond lamely.

To your surprise, Tomura rasps, “Are you okay?”

You don’t know why, but you cradle the phone to your cheek tighter, your eyes slipping shut for a moment.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Sore and tired, but I’m okay.”

“Good,” he responds, his voice softer than it usually is, just a breath when he asks, “What happened? What’d you do to him?”

You’re silent for a long moment. You can’t decide if you should tell him or not. You think of Shouta earlier and his voice like a hearth and the tender way he holds you, you think of his we’ll be okay.

But you can hear Tomura’s soft breath on the other line. You can see Ryuji in the patch of sun that splays out against the corner of the couch in the evenings. You think of him curled tight around you, like you’re the last good thing left on earth.

“I destroyed his Quirk,” you say, voice barely above a whisper, “With mine.”

“That’s new,” Tomura almost hums, but it nearly seems like he was expecting the answer.

“I didn’t mean to.”

A quiet snort from him, “What are you trying to prove to me?” he asks, “I’m not your heroes. I won’t look at you differently whether you intended to or not.”

The thought strikes like an arrow between the ribs, sharp, sudden. It stings, when you realize it’s truth. How hard have you tried to prove yourself to Shouta? How hard are you trying to prove your goodness to yourself?

“You could’ve killed him,” Tomura says, “And I wouldn’t think differently.”

You wince for some reason when he says that, “Don’t–”

“What would your heroes think then?”

“Tomura–” you snap, voice gaining some bite, a warning.

But for some reason he presses, “How badly does the Hero Commission want you now? With a Quirk like that?”

“What?” you ask, suddenly shocked.

“Don’t be naive,” Tomura says and there’s an edge to his voice. He sucks in a breath, “That’s a big Quirk. Destroying someone else’s? You don’t think they’ll be interested in that?”

You feel the pressure of tears work their way through your head, your throat. Your fingers clutch so hard at the phone that your knuckles are turning white and before you can think, you hiss out, “And how interested are you now?”

“As interested as I was before.” he returns, sharp and quick, and then with a vitriol he hasn’t directed at you in months, he says, “Don’t compare me to them.”

You bare your teeth, tears stinging sharp at your eyes, prepared to fight back when he hisses, “Mark my words, they won’t let you go now.”

“Stop it,” you spit, “You don’t know anything–”

And he laughs at that, caustic, harsh, a grating sound. Villainous. It slithers through the phone, down your spine. Your stomach twists. You hate this– your head is throbbing. You don’t want to fight. You want to stop crying, God, you wish you could just stop crying–

“I’ll be here when you realize it.” he says and there is too much heat behind his voice, simmering and venomous. You can feel the end of this conversation, the bitter goodbye in his words.

Your bottom lip trembles, and for some foolish, lovesick reason, you gasp, “Wait– don’t hang up–”

But you hear the click of the other line and he’s fallen away from you, leaving you with an empty, static silence that buzzes around in your head. In your heart.

You throw your phone across the room. You hear it clatter somewhere in the darkness. You turn to press your face into your pillow and let out a sudden, childish scream. It tears at your throat, before tapering off into this pathetic little sob.

It’s worse because he ends up being right.

And it’s ironic because it’s another string tethering you to him, the ability to destroy something with a touch.

It’s like some part of him knew all along, or maybe some part of you.

You scream into your pillow again, louder, kicking at your covers before it breaks off into a bitter cry.

***

The Hero Commission is very interested in the new discovery of your Quirk. They run tests and scans on you, over and over again, trying to find something interesting. They want you to practice with it, but there’s no way for you to practice without potentially destroying other people’s Quirks.

They offer up criminals to practice on.

It turns your stomach.

“I don’t want to do this,” you tell Shouta one night after another long series of poking and prodding at you by white coats from the Hero Commission.

Shouta is silent for a moment, “No one is making you.”

“But they want me to. It’s expected of me.” you tell him.

“They want to make sure you can control it,” Shouta answers, “And the only way to do that is practice, unfortunately.”

Or do they just want to be sure they can control me? The question bubbles up unbridled inside of you. It sounds suspiciously like Tomura’s voice.

You frown, “I can control it. I don’t go around destroying Quirks with every touch. I just mute Quirks still.”

“Under distress, too? Can you summon it completely calmly? Or stop it in an instant?” Shouta asks.

“I don’t know– no, I don’t think so.”

“Then you can’t fully control it.” he answers, which makes you ball your hands into fists.

“It doesn’t feel right taking people’s Quirks– practice or not. And it’s controlled enough.” you respond, gaining a sudden edge to your voice.

“Then don’t do it.” Shouta responds, almost impassively.

You try not to grow upset or so frustrated that you say something you might regret. You swallow tightly. “Will you be disappointed? If I don’t?”

Shouta tilts his head and in the quietness you fear he will be, but he eventually answers, “No. You’re right; you have it controlled enough that it doesn’t hinder your day-to-day life.”

You let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“Besides, if you’re under that amount of distress again, it probably flares for a good reason. It’ll probably save you if you ever need it again.” Shouta then says, “And if what they want you to do doesn’t feel right to you, then you shouldn’t do it.”

You stare up at him, a little surprised but–

Relief sweeps through you, sweet and cool.

“I trust your instincts,” Shouta says, the curl of his lips small but promising, as he reaches out to nudge your chin with his knuckle.

The guilt blindsides you later, so hard that it makes you lock yourself in your bathroom and keep a sob trapped behind the palm of your hands.

But for now, you smile up at him, the curve of your smirk playful, something he hasn’t seen from you in what feels like forever that you give to him again freely.

“Can I get that one in writing?” you ask and his answering laugh strikes you so suddenly it almost makes you dizzy and it’s like hearing the notes to one of your favorite songs that you hadn’t heard in a long time.

Like you couldn’t ever imagine forgetting it, now that you’ve heard it again.

***

Tomura wonders what it will take to make you leave your heroes.

Specifically, your precious mentor.

When he sees you again, you look like you did before nearly bleeding out in front of him and destroying the Quirk of another. It’s almost as if it never happened at all, almost like your argument never happened at all, either. In this little apartment where the rest of the world doesn’t exist, just you and him and sometimes Ryuji.

Except when he lifts your shirt there is a twisted, ugly scar from where they patched you up. Another at your shoulder. He doesn’t kiss it or run his fingers over it gently, he doesn’t make any sort of comment. He just thumbs at your waist and glares at it, wishes he could make it disappear like the villain who gave it to you.

(Not because he finds it ugly or unacceptable, only that it is now a permanent reminder of what he’d seen. Only that it reminds him that you are not guaranteed to him, not in life nor in loyalty).

You’re a little hesitant with him now. You feel more fragile to him now, too, like you’re holding something back, waiting for everything to finally fall.

The inevitable crash and break.

Tomura is gentler with you– he knows he needs to play his cards right now. It’s crucial. Something is building, even for the League of Villains. There’s more on the horizons.

And despite everything, he wants you there, when the sun is bloody and falling on a dismembered, new world.

He thinks he shouldn’t have pushed you now, when you’re so delicate, barely stitched together. But he had– he’d started another argument. He’d tried to convince you of the heroes’ lack of care for you, their greediness upon discovering the depth of your Quirk.

You throw it back in his face; isn’t that what All For One does to him? Isn’t that what he does for the League of Villains? Aren’t they all just pawns for him? Is that what he wants of you?

He seethes, digging into the skin of his neck desperately. You don’t stop him. He can feel the facade of this little apartment beginning to crumble, fall away into dust and he–

He knows he destroys everything he touches.

But you were supposed to be different.

(You are, his mind hisses, you are, you are, and that’s the worst part of it all).

You storm out that night. You leave him, no doubt to return to your precious mentor.

He thinks about destroying the entire apartment complex. He could now– he knows what’s coming. He won’t be staying here any longer. He has plans, so many plans.

You come back to him a week later, though. You’re bound to him in some way, returning again and again when you know you shouldn’t.

The make-up part is nice, with him buried so deep inside you that he’s trying to turn your stomach. Make you sick with him, the way he is with you. Your gasping moans, with the arch of your body far too pretty for hands like his.

And still, you lay on his chest afterwards, you let him run his fingers over the planes of your shoulders, the line of your pretty neck. He drags his knuckles against your soft skin, enamored with the feeling, with the way you soothe the haunting, sunken part of him. His Quirk submits to yours easily, dimmed inside of him. Maybe he should be frightened of your new potential.

But you’ve never been frightened of him, so he’s not of you, either.

You’re very bold, though, he thinks, for you to say, “Your parents were cruel.” After the argument you both had last time.

He tenses beneath you, grits his teeth. He’d thought you’d both learned your lesson, getting too personal in a place as sacred as here.

“You don’t know anything,” he says and it’s just a breath. Surprisingly toothless. He’d said it to you last time, in your argument. You’d said it to him before that. It feels almost ironic now.

You shake your head against his chest, your nose nudging into him, lips soft against his skin. You remain calm. “I know your name is Tomura. They were very cruel to give you that name.”

You say this as if it’s a fact, something as simple as the sky being blue. But it’s dark out now and the stars are dull, the moon just a scythe in the sky, caught in the window’s glare.

“What?” he demands quietly.

At least you have the guts to tilt your head up to find his eyes now. You look up at him through dark lashes.

“Your name–” you say again, gentle, “It means ‘to mourn.’ I don’t know why anyone would give their child such a sad name.”

He knows what his name means.

But this takes him by surprise, for some reason. Only because it’s not the name his parents gave him. You don’t know that, though. You don’t know anything about him, technically. He has the urge to tell you suddenly, that’s not my name.

He doesn’t, though. He stays silent. It’s his name now. And he likes the way you say it, the syllabus softened by whatever it is you feel for him.

(He won’t give it a name, he’s realizing now that names can be very powerful.)

Your fingers are gentle on him, rubbing strange patterns against a scar near his collar bone.

You have rendered him silent.

And eventually, as you begin to drift off to sleep, you murmur, “You were just a kid, you know?”

He doesn’t really know what you’re getting at, only that it does something strange to the tempo of his heart. He swallows hard, tries to keep his fingers gentle on you. Your breathing has slowed, the rise and fall of your back measured and even, but his has gotten tight.

He squeezes you against him, glaring at nothing, at darkness.

You were just a kid, you know?

It’s this part of you, the one that sees the human in him, that makes him think maybe you will be at his side until the bitter end of it all. Your compassion, the sympathy you have for the child he was, for the person he somehow became. Your unending ability to understand the worst of people.

He doesn’t dwell on the child he was, just has buried it in the cemetery of his chest– a part of him that only you have been able to reach through Quirk, through something too massive to name. You’ve soothed it, put it to rest like the dead, lit your incense in the spaces of his heart. Said your prayers along the notches of his ribs. Tried to appease that restless spirit that possesses him.

He doesn’t know why, but he starts to shake. He can hardly breathe.

And in the dark, when he thinks you’re asleep, and his secrets will be lost to your dreams, he admits for the first time in years what has always trembled inside him. He speaks the tragedy that has made a home of his body, the mourning that he was given name to;

“I wanted to be a hero– when I was a kid.”

***

Tomura thinks, for a moment, when you’re splattered in blood, that this will be your great turning point.

Your fall, the tearing and burning of your wings from your holy back. It will hurt, but he will be there on the ground with you, a hand extended to guide you. He will be there to cradle you into his chest, to hold you close when your world falls apart.

The way All For One was there for him.

The beginning of the end starts with you being a hero.

But you save the wrong person.

Toga’s been following him around as she does every so often, dogging in his shadow, skipping along beside him. You’ve become accustomed to her, too. She likes having you around. Something about not being the only girl. You’re kind to her in the same way he thinks you probably wanted kindness at her age.

The sky is mottled purple, bruised as the day sets into night. The sun looks like an open wound, violent and red.

When he thinks about it, he figures he should’ve been more careful, but then there’s a petty villain Tomura knows vaguely, someone they’ve clashed with before, who he’s pretty sure Dabi and Toga pissed off. He spots Toga first. Your back is turned to him.

“Uh oh,” Toga says, peering over your shoulder.

Tomura grabs your wrist, “Hide,” he hisses, and when you try to peer over your shoulder at what Toga is looking at, he forces you back around so the villain doesn’t see your face.

He doesn’t know why he saves you like that. Only that he doesn’t want you to get in trouble, doesn’t want you taken from him like that. He is not an idiot; if the villain recognizes you, if it somehow got around that you were seen with two of the most notorious villains, the Hero Commission would eat you alive.

And here’s the part that really gets him. You listen to him. You trust him.

You dart away, swift and fast like a fox, disappearing into the shadows the way you were trained to.

“Hey!” the villain shouts and he’s large, Tomura remembers now.

Stupid, too, he thinks, as he barrels towards them.

The glint of Toga’s knife in the sun makes him pause.

Better to not engage, Tomura thinks, not yet, not now. Too much on the horizon for something foolish to happen tonight. The apartment isn’t far from here. He hopes you’ll retreat there. He just needs to get Toga away safely now.

“Oh, I’ve missed fighting!” she sings.

“No,” Tomura rasps, “Don’t engage. We need to go, too.”

She whines a long and drawn out, “Why?” just as the hulking mass of a person swings at her. She ducks away easily, quickly.

However, then his Quirk bursts to life and it’s far worse than what Tomura had hoped for. He doubles in size, his arms in particular growing longer, and fill out with what seems to be rushing water.

“Dammit, Toga,” he hisses, shoving her out of the way as the villain blasts a large cannon of water at her.

Tomura takes the hit hard, black coloring his vision when he hits the ground.

In truth, he thinks he is out for at least a full minute, because when he’s come to, you’re shouting at the villain. You’re tugging desperately at his massive shoulder, clawing and screaming. You’ve canceled his Quirk, but he’s still too big, even without it.

Toga is pinned beneath that arm, choking and spluttering, drenched. It actually looks like she’s choking on water. She can’t even scream, too garbled, too water-logged. She looks like a doll, she looks horribly small. Her face is turning a deep shade of red as she struggles for breath. Her little hands claw at his wrist, too.

Tomura tries to stand, his vision swimming, swaying so bad that for a minute everything goes sideways.

Fuck, he curses, just as he watches you get tossed away by that villain’s other hand like you’re nothing. His Quirk suddenly ripples back to life and he blasts Toga with another bout of water, plastering her to the gravel, the onslaught of it unending.

You’re up in an instant, throwing yourself onto his neck, trying to wrench him off. His Quirk disengages again, and Toga heaves and gasps for breath, coughing up large amounts of water.

“You’re going to kill her!” Tomura finally can catch onto what you’re saying, what you’re desperately screaming. His ears ring.

You get thrown off again. More water. Toga is being blasted so hard that she can’t even choke or struggle.

Tomura thinks you’re trying to rationalize with them, you’re trying to explain you’re a hero. And to disengage. Stop, please stop, please stop–

He’s not listening, though, of course.

And he’s too big. You tried knocking him out, tried putting him to sleep with the grip of your elbow. You’re trying everything, even to crush his Quirk beneath yours. Tomura catches the flutters of pink, your inability to summon your destruction when you need it.

It wouldn’t matter anyways, not with how big he is. You struggle against powerhouses.

Tomura stumbles.

But you’ve always been gritty and sharp and determined, if nothing else. You have always fought so desperately for your life, never mind law or honor or glory.

He thinks he catches the glint of your knife, the desperate threat to let her go, leave her alone!

The villain grabs you with a massive hand around the throat, lifts you clear off the ground.

Toga has gone slack against the pavement in a puddle of water, face colored a strange shade of red and blue. A little like the way the sky blurs before his eyes.

You kick and thrash, a horrible growl wretched from your throat. You don’t think, just lash out.

And then there is blood. So much blood. It’s all over Toga now, seeping into the water– did she cut him? She managed to cut his throat? Because that’s where the blood is pouring out of–

Tomura sways.

You’re dropped.

You stumble away.

Your blade– the one you used to threaten him with, is bloody.

“Fuck!” you shout, raw and so sudden that it jars him a little. He forces himself over to the scene. So much blood. His stomach rolls.

He looks at you, your shell-shocked face. You’re looking at the knife, at the blood. At Toga, who's still not moving.

He goes to her first, tries to shake her a little, fingers held away from her shoulders carefully. For a moment, she doesn’t respond, limp and lifeless and something inside of him threatens to overwhelm him. No, no–

Her eyes flutter, though, and she wheezes for a breath, suddenly turning over to vomit up far too much water.

“I-Is she-?” your voice, so small and lost, cuts through his thoughts.

He looks at you again, blood splattered and terror caught in your eyes. Pale and slack faced and half-mad. You look like a ghost, standing there in the aftermath, in your gruesomeness.

“She’s fine,” he says, just as she wretches up more water, “You saved her.”

Toga falls limp again. He checks frantically for a pulse at her wrist with two careful fingers. Still there. She needs a doctor, though. He stands to face you.

You make a noise, high pitched, trembling. You cover your mouth to keep it in, it’s something like a sob, an animalistic noise.

“I didn’t mean to– I didn’t, I didn’t– she was just–” you’re trying to get out, almost doubled over now.

Tomura doesn’t bother to check if you killed the villain. He knows the dead when he sees it. And he won’t lie to you now, he won’t soften this blow or shield you from it.

But he also knows what he needs to do.

You keel over, about to scream more and– no, that won’t do you any good.

He grabs for you, hauls you back up and you’re shaking so hard that he fears you’re going to split apart. You’re about to lose it.

“Listen to me,” Tomura hisses and you choke on a cry. He shakes you a little, tries to force you to look at him and not the body behind him. Your eyes, feverish pink, meet the wildfire of his, “Listen to me.”

“I– I don’t–”

“Sshh,” Tomura hisses, palm going to your cheek, a little too rough, forcing you to look at only him. “Sshh, listen.”

You try to swallow and he continues, “You’re going to call reinforcements. You’re going to tell them there’s a villain down.”

“W-what?! I’m going to– they’re going to–”

He shakes you again, harder, your teeth click together with the force of it. He needs you to understand this– needs you to hear this if he wants to keep you safe and out of jail.

“Tell them I decayed him. And before that, tell them Toga cut him, and it splattered onto you. Say you heard commotion and like the good hero you are, you ran to help.”

“Tomura–” you sob.

“Do you understand me?” he snaps instead, grabbing you harder, his fingers curling against your cheek to press desperately into you. “Answer me!”

“Yes–” you gasp, wide-eyed and terrified. “Yes!”

“Good,” he hushes, wiping blood from your cheek, “Good. You saved her,” he tells you, “You saved her, do you understand?”

You nod, jerky, and he continues, hand petting your cheek, messily pushing your hair from your face, “You did everything right.”

Your breathing is still labored, but you’re quieting with the praise. When he thinks you can handle it, he breathes, “Now, are you ready? I’m going to decay him and the knife, then I’m going to leave with Toga. You’re going to call for help.”

You glance at the villain, lying lifeless, in his own pool of blood and Tomura ducks his head to force you to look at him. “Okay?” he asks, “Answer me.”

“Okay,” you exhale slowly.

“Good,” he murmurs, “Good. Now give me the knife.”

You press it, trembling, into his hands. It’s slick with blood. He forces himself to stay calm for you.

He steps away, let’s go of you. The knife turns to dust.

“Look away,” he commands then, his voice a rasp.

And you– you listen to him. You trust him. You turn away. He sets his hands on the villain. And just like that, his body breaks down, gore at first, until it is nothing but dust. It blows away easily.

And then he goes to Toga and he lifts her carefully. She’s like a ragdoll in his arms, soaked and cold. He’s certain to keep his hands away from her, fingers lifted away, but she lolls into his chest.

When you turn around, Tomura says, “Thank you for saving her.” And he means it.

You swallow hard. You look to where the villain was. He’s gone now.

“Now call your heroes, just like I said.”

You nod, eyes filling up with tears. That’s fine. They’ll have more sympathy for you, for what you’ve witnessed. They’ll believe you more. Your mentor will protect you, with those tears in your eyes.

Tomura’s eyes burn crimson as you pull out your phone, “Do what I said and you’ll be okay.”

And you do, just like that. You lift the phone to your ear. That semblance of calm that he had coaxed you into shatters the moment someone picks up on the other end.

Your voice goes high, near hysterical, “T-There’s a villain down–”

He turns away from you as you stutter and cry into the phone about what happened. You give them the lie he told you to feed them. You make Tomura out to be the villain, you make yourself out to be innocent. He holds Toga close to him.

He tries not to smile, a dizzy slip of a thing, as you do exactly as he told you to– as you lie and lie and lie through your teeth.

Toga stirs in his arms. Police sirens are heard in the distance. An ambulance for a pile of dust. The sun sets, darkness blanketing the world, shielding it from the light.

And as he stalks away, with Toga alive and in his arms, he thinks maybe he’ll make a villain of you yet.

***

The police believe you. It’s hard not to, when there is so little evidence otherwise. Tomura destroyed it all for you. It’s hard not to believe you, when you’re crying and terrified, as you should be for witnessing the death of another person at the hands of Himiko Toga and Shigaraki Tomura.

Shouta, however, is not as easily convinced.

Not after so many strange occurrences with Tomura.

When he brings you back to his apartment, when the door is shut tight, and you still stand in bloodied clothes with your teeth chattering, Shouta eyes you warily.

You want to shower, burn yourself beneath the spray of water, like you could wash away what you’d done. You squeeze your eyes shut.

You saved her.

You swallow down the lump in your throat.

“What really happened?” Shouta asks, almost tentatively, standing in the middle of his living room.

You turn and you don’t– you don’t know how you should react. Should you be offended that he’d doubt you? React in outrage after all that’s happened? Should you act confused? Play dumb?

You can’t stomach any of it. Not when someone’s dead at your hands. But someone is alive because of them, too.

Your eyes well up with fresh tears.

“I-I told you.” you choke out.

Shouta’s jaw ticks. He draws in a slow breath, “Something isn’t adding up. You have had more contact with Shigaraki Tomura than anyone has been able to have.”

Your stomach drops. Your tears fall harder.

“What’s going on?” he asks and the distance between you two feels massive. It feels continental in the small space of his living room. He seems suspicious.

The lie comes out on a sob, “I–I think he’s been stalking me.”

“What?” Shouta asks and any uncertainty he has in you evaporates as he watches your face crumple.

You let your guilt overwhelm you into choking on another cry, cover your mouth as if you could catch it in the palm of your hand. Shouta doesn’t know the truth of it, so he believes it.

He crosses that distance like it’s nothing now. He stands tall in front of you, reaches to try and brush tears away from your cheek.

“I don’t know–” you gasp, filling out your lie, “I think he's interested in me because of my Quirk. Because he can’t– I can’t decay, when he touches me.”

Shouta tips your face up towards his but you can’t look him in the eyes, let your eyes squeeze shut when he asks, “Why wouldn’t you tell me that?”

“I don’t know–” you choke out, “I wasn’t sure.”

“Did something else happen?” Shouta prods gently and you grit your teeth to keep back another sob. More tears cut tracks down your face, right into Shouta’s waiting, gentle hands.

There is a long moment where you think of giving everything up. You think of telling Shouta everything, if only to lift the weight that has settled onto your chest. Surely, it will crush through your sternum, surely your heart will burst with it’s pressure.

“It’s my fault,” you whisper, “It’s my fault he’s dead.”

“No,” Shouta says then, gentle but firm, shaking his head, “I know it may feel like it–”

“He was going to kill her.”

This stops Shouta. He goes very, very still.

“What?” he rasps softly.

“He was drowning her– he wouldn’t stop. I tried to get him to stop and he started choking me–and she saved me by–” It’s a fabrication to save yourself. That’s not how it went! Your mind screeches, that’s not how it went– you saved her by killing–

Toga was turning blue, she didn’t help you. She didn’t save you. She was drowning. She didn’t kill him. You did.

“You saved Toga Himiko, a notorious villain, one of the most wanted–”

“He was killing her!” you hiss, “She was turning blue–”

“She’s a powerful villain, too, you should’ve tried–”

Something inside of you fractures, bursts apart the way glass does when thrown against a wall. You think there are a million, shining pieces of you now lying on the floor.

“She’s Shinsou’s age!” you snap, hoping one of your shards cuts him, suddenly half-furious through all your tears. “She’s Shinsou’s age, do you know that?!”

You break now, wrenching away from Shouta’s touch and rushing to double over the sink to dry heave again, body squeezing painfully. You threw up everything in your stomach already at the scene, when recounting the story to the police, to Shouta. You claw at your stomach, trying to stop it, to keep it all down inside of you. You curl your fingers into the divots of your ribs, try to force them to give you air, but they won’t– betrayers that they are, they squeeze and squeeze until there’s nothing of you left.

Your knees buckle, head spinning when you turn away from the sink and crumple into a heap on the floor,“She’s just a kid,” you wail desperately, “That’s all I saw when I tried– when I–”

Your head bows forward, body folded in on itself, forehead digging into the ground as you cry, “I didn’t mean for him to die, I didn’t mean it– I didn’t, I swear I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

Shouta moves again finally, drops to his knees down beside you. He cradles your skull in his large hand, pushes your head into the crook of his neck to hold you, “It’s alright,” he breathes, curling his other arm tight around you, “It’s not your fault,” he hushes, “It’s not your fault.” You sob hard into his chest, fingernails digging into him, clawing at his biceps, “Sshh, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

And he holds you, buries you in the bulk of him, like he always has when you need him. Your constant, the love you never once deserved. Especially not now. Especially not here, with blood stained on your clothes, sunk to the floor with nothing but the anchor of your guilt.

He strokes your hairline, gentle, cooing softly to try and calm you.

He murmurs, his voice so deep and soft and earnest, “You’re a good hero.” When you make a strangled noise against him, he presses on, “You are. You’re compassionate. You see everyone’s humanity and that’s a good thing.”

He hushes more of your cries, fingers gentle in your hair, and you try not to throw up again when he tells you;

“You’re a good hero, I promise. I promise.”

The beginning of the end starts with you being a hero for a villain.

***

The next time you see Tomura, he questions you about what happened, if you pulled it off. You tell him you managed it, somehow. You don’t tell him anything else. You don’t tell him you haven’t been sleeping, that you can hardly keep food down. You don’t tell him that you take too many showers, trying to wash away the phantom blood.

You remember when it was Tomura’s blood on you, so long ago. A beginning that now seems so hazy. You hadn’t minded blood, then. You had never been particularly squeamish but now–

Now it could make you sick on your best days, downright hysterical on your worst.

Your guilt tears chunks out of you, bites down and shakes the meaty, soft parts of you until you’re all torn up.

It is easier to be with Tomura than Shouta now.

We have more in common, you think, and it makes you want to laugh, empty and wobbly.

You look in mirrors and hardly recognize yourself, wonder if this is really your body. If this is really your life, or if it’s someone else’s. Maybe you are possessed, maybe that explains how you got here.

You don’t tell him any of this. You stay silent.

And that’s okay because Tomura seems strangely quiet after that, pulling you to lay on his chest. He doesn’t let you put the TV on. You can tell he needs to think. You let your eyes drift close as he runs his fingers through your hair with a surprising amount of gentleness, compared to his usual petting.

But eventually he says, so soft that you fear you almost imagined it, “A yakuza head visited the League recently.”

Your eyes flutter open and in your surprise, you sit up a little, looking down at him. “Tomura–” you start, almost a warning.

He knows he isn’t supposed to talk like this here, in this little slice of another world.

But he continues anyways, his voice just a rough scratch, “He killed Magne.” And then, “And Compress no longer has an arm.”

Now you really pull away to look at him. You can feel your eyes widen out, your shock, then the stomach-turning sadness. His face is unreadable, but his jaw is tight. His eyes are simmering, so red, even in the low light like this.

“It was a set up.” he hisses, “I failed them.”

He doesn’t cry, but you can feel the slightest tremble in his body.

You hurt for him, you realize, your heart falling into the pit of your stomach. Those are two of his closest, some of his inner circle.

He looks shaken.

He looks young, with the weight of his world on his shoulders, with the crown of thorns placed on his head. Heir to a monstrous throne. All For One’s successor, boy prince to inherit an underground empire.

You just see him, though, just Tomura who's twenty, who likes sour candy and video games.

He swallows hard. He looks angry and hurt.

“Nobody mourns us,” he says eventually, looking away from you, somewhere in the darkness of the apartment.

Except you, you want to say, with a name like Tomura.

You lurch forward, throwing your arms around his neck, hugging him tight to you. “I’m sorry,” you tell him, soft, the way Shouta speaks to you, “I’m sorry.”

And then you think, I’d mourn you, and you squeeze him tighter, I’d mourn you, oh God, I’d mourn you–

He doesn’t hug you back, but you can feel the shaky breath he exhales, and the way his fingers tighten in the fabric of your shirt.

***

Tomura thinks it should be you, at his side, when he takes Overhaul’s arm. You are everything Overhaul wants. Your Quirk is what he has tried to bottle.

Tomura thinks you could’ve been useful, to switch off his Quirk, to destroy it in an incredible twist of irony. It would’ve been the ultimate power move, to have you at his side by the end of all of this.

But you’re not there, no, not with him.

You’re with your heroes, Toga had told him.

It shouldn’t, but it feels like a betrayal. It stings hard and sharp inside of him, like a livid bee that jabs at his heart.

He seethes about it. Hadn’t he done everything right with you? He’d played this game slow, knew that the rewards would be worth it.

You’re still walking away from him, though. You’re still not his.

And you’ve still got one of his ribs, left a gaping wound inside of him.

He wants it back. He wants it back.

***

Eri looks up at you with watery, red eyes when you first introduce yourself to her. You crouch to be on her level. She has silver hair. She’s timid, wobbly bottom lip and flushed cheeks.

You almost start crying, looking at her now. You wonder if this is what Tomura was like as a child– small and terrified of his Quirk, round red eyes pleading with the world. All you see in her is every other forgotten child.

“Hi, Eri,” you hush, half for her, half because you’re scared your voice might break.

“H-hello,” she trembles.

You try to keep your smile in place, but it’s a weak, sad thing.

Still, you say, “I’d like to be your friend, if you’ll have me.” And you extend your hand to her, palm up and offering. “I have a Quirk like Mr. Aizawa’s.” you tell her gently, “If you touch me while using your Quirk, it’ll stop.”

She brightens at this, not smiling but, surprised, “Really?” she asks, just a breath.

You nod, swallowing around the lump in your throat, “Really.”

She takes your hand then, eager, tightening with her small fingers, despite her Quirk still being off.

Then she looks up into your face and offers you a tentative smile. Small, just the corner of her lips lifting up.

“I’d like to be your friend, too.” she murmurs bashfully and you close your hand around hers. It’s small, almost fragile. She’s all bandaged up, arms wrapped in gauze.

You look at Eri and her red eyes and silver hair and see a coin toss, see it up in the air, spinning and spinning, catching in the light. A twist of fate like the flip of a coin.

But you think you could call it now, with her hand in yours, and the heroes that hover protectively around her.

***

There is a morning shared in blush light that isn’t the ending but feels like it could be one. In truth, you’d prefer to remember this as the ending, more of a whimper and less of a bang. The night before had been one of your better ones, too– you’d only woken once with a nightmare. Tomura had already been awake and he’d soothed you with a careful hand that drew patterns across the bare skin of your back.

That night, that morning, was gentle in the wake of all that violence, love taken root, finally bursting through your veins to make a mess of your insides.

Dawn is too mellow a place for the two of you.

(You have come to the conclusion that Tomura looks best in dusk, saturated, sharp and rich in color. Bold and vivid. You didn’t know it, but he thought the same of you.)

You never told him you loved him.

You think about that a lot, wonder if it would’ve made a difference in anything. You wonder who was the last person to tell him that, if anyone at all.

He’s still half hoping that you’ll follow him, but you think he knows he’s losing you. You are not content in fuming misery, cannot stomach to leave the mentor that has loved and cared for you with such perseverance and softness. You cannot stomach to turn away from the boy with violet hair, or now the girl that reminds you of him.

You wish you could keep him, too, despite it all, but all you see in the future with him is rubble.

In the least, you’ve always had a sense of preservations, survivor that you are, scavenger that you are. You know when to move on, can’t linger too much longer now or you won’t live through it.

You sleep better with Tomura, though, and that’s the cruel part. You wake with less nightmares. You sleep more soundly, wound up in him, so tight that you two might just grow together. Palm to palm, your Quirk quieting his, lulled and softened.

And that morning, you wake slowly, twisting around fitfully with the warmth that has blossomed gently inside of you.

Consciousness creeps to you, fighting against the pull of sleep, being coaxed awake by the fluttering of your heart, the slow roll in your core.

Your eyes lift, heavy with sleep, finally awake. You blink blearily before a sudden, sleep soft cry escapes past your lips.

You glance down the line of your body to find Tomura nestled between your legs, tongue tracing messy patterns into where you’re most sensitive. Your stomach swoops sweetly, flares into a spark of heat.

The light is soft on him. He cracks a ruby eye open to gaze at you, to open his mouth so you can watch the flash of glistening pink as his tongue laves against you slowly.

“About time you woke up,” he gets out, voice still morning-rough, a little grating. His fingers squeeze your thigh, pulling you apart further to be at his mercy, spread open all for him.

“Tomura–” you gasp, your hands finding their way into his hair, fingers gentle and weak with sleep.

He sets his mouth to you, sucks on the bundle of nerves in a way that makes you keen, almost arching away from him. He fixes his eyes on your face, watches as your expression twists up.

You can see the way his hips are twitching into the mattress. Sometimes you think he does this more for himself than you, takes pleasure in rendering you down to your most basic, most desperate.

Pleasure coils warm, simmers on the inside of you. Your fingers flex, tighten in his hair until he groans against you. When he pulls away for another moment to admire you, his lips are spit slick, a string of translucent spit and slick bridging between the two of you.

It makes you flush darkly, makes you throw your head back and whimper.

He takes you apart with the savagery and viciousness that he has always carried. Dawn spills over the bed sheets in rays of peach and honeysuckle, lovely for the impending destruction. You shatter like glass, pretty and ringing beneath his hands.

And then he’s flipping you onto your stomach, letting you claw at your pillow as he sinks deep inside of you. He hisses when he fucks into the crux of your sweet, supple thighs. Your hair is messy with sleep. He presses his chest to your back, presses you into the mattress.

You fist at your pillow, whining at the burn and stretch, and you can feel the sickle cut of his smile against the arch of your shoulder blades. He leaves sloppy kisses, scattering them, sucking at your skin until he has claimed and marked and branded you.

He nudges his nose against your cheek until you tilt your head back to his, to rub back affectionately, nudge into him like a cat. He hums in satisfaction, in pleasure, the sound of it rumbling against your back.

You feel like he’s trying to savor this. He doesn’t pull your hair, or speed up his hips. No, he waits until you arch your back for him, until you’re near begging.

He likes you weakened, maybe delirious, maybe like he’s giving you a dose of your own medicine. He’s trying to make you as addicted as he is, but there’s no need.

No need when he covers your hand with his, slots his fingers between yours. All five of them, squeezing at your hand.

“You were made for me,” he gets out, giving you a rougher thrust, his eyes flashing to your hands, “See?” he groans, fingers digging into your wrist, your knuckles, “Made for me.”

You moan, too, all wobbly and pitched, with all the pressure, with the squeeze of his hand. With the stretch of him inside where you’re vulnerable and soft and slick.

He drags everything out that morning, fucks you both into oversensitivity, until you’re both shuddering and gasping. He breaks you down, until there are tears streaming down your face, until he’s gripping you so tightly that he’ll leave a bruise in the shape of his hand.

He fits his hand against your throat at one point and your eyes roll into the back of your head. You end where you began, with the violet petal bruise of his fingertips into your skin.

You linger in bed with him that morning, letting him pet and stroke and touch you. You stay gentle, even when he gets rough.

You make cheap, bad coffee for the both of you.

You feel twenty something with a boy and his tiny apartment. A cat chirps at the window and you’re smiling when you let him in. The breeze is cool. You don’t put on clothes because you feel like an adult, with a lover.

You feel normal for a fraction of a moment after everything that’s happened.

You feel sated and tender and saddened. Your chest fills with aching as you watch Tomura drift in and out of sleep in the sunbeams.

You were made for me, he’d said and you reach out to brush a strand of hair from his face. You were made for me.

You swallow around the lump in your throat, the one that feels like needle pricks and the hard truth. You don’t have the heart to tell him that he may need you, but you don’t need him.

You want him, though, your fingers trailing down the lines of his face, you want him so badly that it hurts. Your fingers travel over the hitch of his scars, his body as familiar as a home.

You want him, but you don’t need him, you try to tell yourself in this moment. You want him, but you don’t need him. You will survive this.

Still, it’s going to hurt. You’re bracing for impact, can feel the free fall rush up to the ground, can feel your stomach swimming up where your heart is.

You’ll survive it, you think, breathing hard, trying to keep back your tears as you look at him. But it’s going to hurt, it might tear out something very precious inside of you.

You’d rather he just break your arm again. At the thought of it, you try not to choke on the bitter, furious laugh that splits from your aching ribs.

***

You get to know Eri, try to spend more time with her and Shouta and Shinsou like you’re trying to fix something you broke. The pieces aren’t quite matching up right, though. It can’t be fixed, not really, not fully.

You can’t close your eyes without seeing that villain in a pool of their own blood. Or Toga’s face made blue. Sometimes in these dreams, it’s Shinsou who is drowning. Sometimes the villain in blood is Shouta. Tomura is always the one who saves you.

You can’t look at yourself anymore. You can’t stomach to. Your lies explode out of you when you catch a glance of yourself, haggard and exhausted and beaten down.

Shouta takes you to a hospital after your fist collides with the mirror in your bathroom. Glass shatters into hundreds of reflections of your warped and terrible image. They’re not as pretty, when the sun isn’t setting in a warehouse with a boy that you think you love.

Your hand bleeds the way that man’s necks did–

Your world spins as you lean over the bowl of the toilet to throw up your lunch. You’d made it with Eri earlier, before Shouta had gotten home from class.

Shouta finds you on the floor, sitting in all that glass, with your hand clutched tightly to your chest. He must’ve heard the commotion next door.

“What happened?” he asks, voice flooding with concern. He doesn’t hesitate to step carefully over the glass to you.

The question feels too large for you.

I did something horrible, you think, that’s what happened.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter weakly, lifting your chin from its place on your chest. “I didn’t mean to.”

(That isn’t true and you know it.

(But you’re always trying to prove you’re good. Especially now. Especially to Shouta– trying to prove you’re worthy of his love.

You suddenly crave Tomura. You didn’t have to prove anything to him.)

Shouta lifts you carefully, cradles you to his body to carry you out to his car to bring you to the hospital. He treats you like you’re fragile, made of glass yourself. “What’s going on with you?” Shouta murmurs gently, but there's almost a plea in it, concern that is so transparent it hurts, “You’re scaring me– I’m worried about you.” he confesses, almost desperate, “You know you can talk to me, don’t you?”

The laugh that sputters out of you is hollow, a grating noise that gets choked off. Shouta looks at you warily, uncertain and fearful.

The hospital keeps you for three days. Eri asks Shouta about you, apparently. She misses you. Shinsou helps her decorate a card for you.

Get well soon! Is written in her poor handwriting with far too many colors, and in Shinsou’s messy scrawl at the bottom;

Miss getting my ass kicked by you.

The doctors tell Shouta you’re struggling with a lot of survivor’s guilt and you have to fight back another absurd, off-kilter laugh.

Part of you thinks you’d be better off with Tomura at this point (your coin uncertain, hanging suspended in the air), if only to relieve you of this guilt, when Shouta tends to you and cares for you and loves you so steadfastly that it makes you feel rotten and horrible and monstrous. He has no idea who he’s loving. And you don’t deserve any of it–

But you think of Eri and the way she clings to your sleeves. And how you and Shinsou share granola bars during training.

And mostly, you are terrified to be without them.

None of it’s the same, though, and you think it’ll eat away at you until you’re nothing at all but the empty lies you kept feeding them.

You want to be better, you realize, when Eri draws you in pictures, holding her hand. You want to be better, you realize, for kids like you, like her–

(Like Tomura–)

So you decide one night, with your hand still bandaged, with Eri sleeping peacefully on the couch in the crux of your arms, and Shouta at the opposite end of the couch, that you will stay with them. The easy thing to do would be to leave, to not look back. But you have always been nothing if not determined, if not a fighter.

You will become who they want you to be, who they believe you to be, even if it tears you apart from the inside out.

Which means giving up Tomura, which feels like giving up a rib.

***

You had hoped you’d be able to slip away from Tomura and leave your secrets in a rundown apartment in a part of the city you grew up in. You had hoped that you could get away unscathed, without Shouta ever knowing more.

But Dabi mentions you to Hawks.

Offhand. Something about another traitor hero. Something about Shigaraki’s bitch.

Tomura also mentions Hawks to you.

And here is your trouble, what you were hoping to avoid by never allowing him to speak about his plans; you now know that the Number Two Pro-Hero is a traitor. However, the only reason you know that, is because of your secret relationship with the leader of the League of Villains that you have been slowly, painstakingly trying to sever yourself from.

(It doesn’t help that he’s latched on tighter–)

So, if you go to Shouta to warn him that the Number Two Pro-Hero is a traitor, you have to also conveniently come forward with your own truth. And what if he thinks you’re a traitor, too?

Surely, it looks that way.

Truthfully, you might as well be– you killed someone.

You killed someone.

Your stomach squeezes tight.

You think of Shouta and Shinsou and Eri and the loss of their love, when you’ve been trying to earn it back.

You don’t get much time to mull this over, though, because while walking back to your own apartment at U.A., a shadowy span of wings fall over your form.

Your heart falls into the pits of you, the drop of it sharp, horrible.

You think running will make it look all the worse.

Besides, he’s fast.

You can’t decide how this will go. Maybe he’ll only want to speak with you, traitor to traitor. But then you will be confronted with the undeniable truth that you now need to share with Shouta, with the Hero Commission, for the sake of people’s safety. You will have to come clean. Maybe it will be worse. Maybe he’s not after you at all, but just in your neck of the woods because–

All other thoughts are cut short when he lands in front of you.

You try to think of a proper reaction. Should you be expecting him? On guard? Should you act surprised?

His wings flare and you realize quickly how massive they are. They throw you into their towering shadow, make you feel like a mouse.

His eyes glint when he pushes up his visor, the gold of them sharp, his pupils a pinprick. The eyes of a predator.

You try not to cower. You stand your ground, lift your lips a little like you might bare teeth in warning, your hackles raising. Backed into the corner, you feel half wild, too.

But Hawks beats you to any form of a greeting, his smile a menacing twist of his lips, like he’s trying to be pleasant but he wants you to see all of those sharp, white teeth of his. You think he doesn’t look like much of a hero in this darkness, with the way his wings look thorny and maroon. His voice is barbed wire, the drawl of it stinging.

You know you’re in deep trouble now;

“You and I need to have a little talk.”

***

You are kept in a steel room that the Hero Commission tells you is not a holding cell, but you definitely think is a holding cell.

Your mind has not slowed since you got here.

You scramble for a story to tell– for lies to sew.

Hawks is not a traitor. Not to the heroes’ at least. He is a traitor to the villains and you know, logically, that this is for the greater good, but something about it bothers you. Villains aren’t people to the Hero Commission. You feel strangely protective of Tomura’s league of outcasts, even if you know you shouldn’t.

But they’re young, with feelings and thoughts and lives and pasts.

Nobody ever mourns us.

No, they don’t, you think, trying to keep away bitter tears from springing to your eyes. They don’t bother trying to see the big picture, they don’t bother to try and figure out why villains are on the rise.

They can’t stomach the idea that maybe their precious hero system has given birth to their villains.

Or maybe they can and they just don’t care.

They need heroes for their charts and money and power, don’t they? So they need villains. A never ending cycle, forever going around on this carousel. You’re dizzy with it, you’re sick of it, caught up in it’s riptide.

You don’t look at Tomura Shigaraki and see the most dangerous, wanted criminal in the country. You see a twenty-year-old pawn, a chip in a bigger game. You see someone as starving and desperate as you were.

You see a coin flip.

(You see the person you fell in love with–)

Shouta enters silently and the moment you see him, you have to try to keep from bursting into tears. Your lip wobbles.

He approaches slowly, cooly, but when he gets near you, his eyes are livid and searching your face, like maybe he could finally find the lies you’d kept buried so deep inside of you. They’ve finally blossomed, you think, all of them sprouting from your body, creeping through your lungs and up your throat to choke you out.

“Tell me the truth finally.” Shouta says, sharp and icy. He speaks like he’s speaking to a criminal, “Now.”

You suck in a shaky breath, try not to flinch when he leans across the metal table and snarls, “And if you are a traitor, at least have the decency to tell me now, before they come in here and interrogate both of us.”

Tears catch in your lashes.

Through the throbbing of your head, you realize you have jeopardized Shouta in the way you never wanted.

“I’m not a traitor.” you get out, voice quiet but firm, barely above a whisper.

“No?” Shouta clips and you can see it now, the hurt in his eyes. He feels betrayed, deeply so, and you can’t even blame him. “Hawks says differently. Says you’ve been working with Shigaraki.”

You rub furiously at your cheek to try and keep the tears from falling, shaking your head quickly, “No–”

“Then what happened?” he snaps and through the blur of your own tears, you catch the way his own eyes glisten.

“I didn’t tell you everything, when I said I thought Shigaraki was stalking me.” you say, having readied this lie the moment that Hawks brought you to the Hero Commission’s doors. You give them the story they want to hear of you, not the one where you fell in love, but the one where you jeopardize yourself for them. You are careful to peer up at him through damp lashes, “I–I got close to him, because he let me, because he was interested in me.”

Shouta goes very, very still. All you can see is his chest rising and falling, quick, as he slowly begins to walk the path you’re leading him down.

“And I thought he might tell me his plans, I thought that I could help–”

“No,” Shouta says in disbelief as it all begins to connect, leaning away from you in shock, “Please tell me you didn’t–”

You lurch towards him slightly, naturally, your hands coming up to the table like you’re reaching for him. “I wanted to prove I could do this–” you choke out, voice breaking, “I wanted to prove I could do undercover work like you wanted– like they wanted!”

“What were you thinking?” he hisses in return.

“You never would’ve let me do this!” you snap, almost plead with him, and it must strike true because he looks away from you momentarily, “I-I saw an opening so I tried to take it– I was perfect for it. Shigaraki was interested in me. I used to be a thief. I would’ve fit in.”

The moment you say it, you realize how true it rings. It startles you, maybe, with how close you were. Almost, but didn’t, your coin doing an extra rotation in air. And why didn’t you? Why not be with Tomura now? Why not be where you fit in most? Where hero society wanted and expected you to be?

“I’m not a traitor,” you cry, tears tracking down your cheeks freely now– you think you’re trying to convince yourself as much as Shouta now, “I promise I’m not a traitor– I couldn’t do that to you. O-or Shinsou. Or Eri–”

And there is your reason. The truth to disguise your lies. You look at him, across from you, his face almost unreadable, with his furrowed brows and tense jaw. His eyes shine, though, gleam with unshed tears as he listens to you. The man who gave you everything, who has cared for you since the moment he found you– perhaps the sole reason your coin has flipped in their favor. All because he did more than what was asked of him, because maybe he just saw someone starving, too, like the way you did with Tomura.

Believe me, you plead, believe this.

There is a long stretch of silence after that, where all you can get in is hiccuping breaths.

Finally, Shouta asks, “Did you find anything out about him? Or the League of Villains?”

You exhale hard with relief, your shoulders finally falling. You collapse somewhat, exhausted, folding in on yourself.

You hang your head, then shake it slowly, “No,” you sniffle, wipe at your drippy nose, “He didn’t tell me anything. He didn’t trust me.”

Shouta eyes you warily.

“So that’s why you encountered him so much. That’s why you were there with Toga Himiko when–” Shouta cuts himself off when he sees your wince, the shuddering of your features at the mention of that incident. But he finally put all of the pieces together. All the pieces you’ve given him, at least.

You nod, stray tears falling quick, dripping off your chin, “I’m sorry for lying,” you get out, “I hated it— I hated lying to you.”

Truth.

Shouta throws you a hard look, “You shouldn’t have. It was dangerous and irresponsible. And now look at what you’ve done–”

Your stomach knots up tightly.

“I thought I could handle it.” You breathe and there is another truth, sprinkled throughout your lies.

But you were so horribly wrong–

Shouta is about to open his mouth again, but the door swings open and a man in a suit enters slowly. His gaze is cool as it falls on you and Shouta. You know this isn’t the end of your conversation with him, you know he wants to know more. But now, he focuses on the higher up that encourages him to sit, too.

He says, because Shouta has been such an upstanding hero and teacher, they are allowing him the courtesy of explaining everything now.

And then you watch as Shouta opens his mouth and lies and lies and lies for you.

He tells them that it was his idea to allow you to get close to Shigaraki. He knew, every step of the way. He tells them he bypassed speaking with a committee at the Hero Commission’s because it would’ve taken too much time. He says that they needed to act quickly and accordingly.

He takes the brunt of it, saves you from far more trouble. He’s a trusted hero. You’re an ex-thief in the eyes of the Hero Commission with a too-big Quirk. They won’t believe you and truthfully, if they did more digging, if they pried more, there is a chance that the truth might leak out of you, open like a wound.

Shouta protects you, the way he always has. You don’t deserve it and you can feel your heart tearing itself to shreds.

You know you can’t go back to Tomura, not after all this.

You watch Shouta lie for you, speak for you, get you out of the grave you have dug yourself. For the second time in your life, Shouta saves you. You try to hold back more tears, you try to hold back from throwing yourself onto him, clinging to him.

And finally, they ask, “Did you learn anything, then? About Shigaraki Tomura?”

He likes sour candy. He has trouble sleeping. He drinks too many energy drinks. There is a scar at the corner of his lip. He has a beauty mark on his chin. He is desperate and starved of love. He let’s a kitten sleep in the sunlight of his apartment. He tries to take care of the League to the best of his ability– he cares about them more than he will admit. He is not heartless. His hands are often cold but seeking, longing for what he can’t have.

Your eyes well up with tears but you take a slow, steadying breath. They don’t want those pieces of him, the human, messy ones. No, they want to know how evil he is, how diabolical his next plan is going to be. But you don’t know any of that, just that he holds you as if he never wants to let you go when you fall asleep at night.

So you’re not lying when you say;

“I don’t know anything about Shigaraki Tomura.”

Only that he wanted to be a hero– when he was a kid.

***

The days following are the worst between you and Shouta.

He doesn’t trust you anymore. You can’t fight him. You have nothing to say, which is perhaps worse than if you tried to fight with him.

There’s no defending you, especially if Shouta even knew half of the truth. He barely speaks with you some days.

He wedges the distance between you two wide, forces it apart further.

He does not comfort you, he does not hold you when you cry this time. He’s not there with soothing, hushed words or the gentle touch of his hand to your cheek.

A piece of his trust is broken, now so severely that it’s just a jagged edge, something you don’t think can ever be soothed.

(And you’re right, in some way– there’s a deep shift in your relationship with him, changed and scarred. It never returns to what you once had, when your life was very simple and all you knew was him.)

He doesn’t ever say, I forgive you. I will trust you again, in time.

But he eventually will make dinner for you again and you will sit beside him, shoulder to shoulder at his table with a respectable, lonesome distance between his heart and yours.

Nothing is ever the same again.

You think about running– from Shouta, from Tomura, from all of it. It would be the easiest option, where you never have to look either in the face again.

But the Hero Commission looks at Eri the same way they looked at you when they discovered you could destroy Quirks and you can’t stomach the idea of leaving her to them.

(Tomura was right in a lot of ways.

And when there’s a war on the horizon and the Hero Commission seeks to use you as a weapon, you will think of him again.

I’ll teach you, if that’s what you want, he’d said to you once. And he did.

You hate the system, the endless cycle, Prometheus chained to his rock, the need of villains to have heroes, the creation of heroes to make villains. The endless bodies, the using and discarding of real, human lives for a greater good. You wish you could destroy it.

But there is more than only destruction, too. What good is rubble and ruin and death?)

You stay so you can do what you can, so you can protect a child with red eyes, with silver hair, and a Quirk too big for their own body.

And you think maybe if you stay with her, it makes up for leaving Tomura.

***

You go to Tomura one last time, walk the distance to his apartment with your hands shoved into your pockets. It’s a familiar walk now. The pavement is wet from rain. It’s cold out. You don’t know what you’re going to tell him. You wonder how he’ll react– for a moment, you’re fearful. Will he lash out? For a moment you wonder if he’ll try to kill you.

But you know, deep down, he wouldn’t. Won’t.

And you won’t pretend you’re scared of him now. You won’t play the innocent hero, not in front of him.

The moment Tomura sees you, he knows something has changed. You are too expressive and now you look at him with a sense of foreboding. With a sadness that he feels uncomfortable gazing at.

You tell him, “I got in trouble with the Hero Commission.”

For a moment, he lets his hope grow and stretch inside of him. Maybe this is finally your turning point, your fall from grace that he will catch you on. But no, your lip wobbles and your eyes dart away.

“I can’t see you anymore,” you whisper.

At first, he wants to snap at you, hiss out something cruel between his bared teeth. Maybe if you had done this a few years ago, a few months ago, he would lash out, try to tear into his neck or you or the world. He thinks about hurting you, slamming you against a wall or–

The thought is unfortunately repulsive to him. He doesn’t want to hurt you, not like that.

His anger and resentment wells inside of him, swarms his chest viciously. He wants to argue, to point out every way your heroes have failed you. The world feels so absurdly unfair suddenly, to give him you– you who quiets his Quirk and touches him gently and winds your arms around him in the way he likes so much– only to then take you away, too. You who destroys with a touch, too. Who is perfect at his side.

But for all his work and care and strategy, he can’t get you to stay.

You will run back to your heroes.

You don’t need him, he realizes now. But you have his rib, tucked away inside of you. He wants to dig into you, pry it out, rip it from your body and take it back for himself.

But you’re crying.

And you’re pretty in the dark, like you’ve always been. This time, though, you’re not looking for a fight, there is no viciousness in you now. Maybe you’re too tired to fight.

So instead of erupting, instead of lashing out, Tomura steels himself. He’ll play the longer game, then. You don’t want to go, but you will. You’ll go back to your heroes and they will disappoint you. As they always do, at some point, eventually.

You will come back to him again, he tells himself.

And he will be forgiving, the way All For One has been with him. He sees it now; you, needing his hand, needing him to take you back. He will welcome you back into his arms, as if you hadn’t even left, and you will know then that you were right to leave.

He gazes at you, red eyes smoldering, “Then don’t.” he rasps and he’s trying to remain dispassionate, but his voice has a trembling note in it, the hidden fear underneath the harsh coolness.

Your eyes flicker back to him, your lips parting in surprise. You wipe at your eyes.

“So that’s it?”

And this makes him angry, the sharp tug of it like a dog at the end of it’s leash. He lurches forward threateningly, like he might hurt you.

(You don’t flinch. And he stops himself before he gets too close.)

“What?” he snaps, “Did you want me to beg for you to stay?”

He wants to, he realizes, he wants to howl and scream and tear apart everything in sight. He wants to say don’t go, don’t go, don’t slip from me, too.

He wants to bargain with you– what is it he can’t give you that they can?

Your heroes only love you because they don’t know you, they don’t know what you’ve done. Your heroes only love you as far as truth and justice go. A hero would sacrifice you for the greater good and you would agree with them, even if you were shaking and crying, even if you burned with all that liveliness.

But he’d sooner sacrifice the world for you.

You have his rib, he wants to scream, of course he wants to beg.

You shake your head, though, more tears falling free, “No,” you say, voice surprisingly strong, “No, I never made you beg.”

The truth of it burrows beneath his skin. He knows. The itch squirms beneath his skin. His hand reaches up, digs into the crook of his neck to scratch at it.

It’s Dabi’s voice in his head that says something about getting too distracted with this braindead hero. He has bigger plans than hiding in an abandoned apartment with you. More to do. You were nothing but a side quest.

His pause screen.

Besides, what’s there to be upset about? You’ll come back.

He won’t even punish you for leaving, he promises. He promises.

“Then that’s it.” Tomura tells you, a bitter curl to his lips.

There’s no goodbye, just the breeze between the two of you, the empty space that he always hated. The nothingness between that he always sought to destroy.

Eventually, he just turns away from you. He can’t stomach looking at you any longer. He can feel your eyes pressing into his retreating form– he imagines you rushing for him, crashing into his back to throw your arms around his middle. You can’t do it, you’ll cry, burying your face between his shoulder blades. And he’ll freeze, but eventually he’ll wrap his arms around yours and bow his head with the strength of your feelings for him.

Or he imagines later, when it’s the end of the world, and you emerge from the rubble to reach for him. It’ll be like his dreams, when the sky is falling, and you only want to hold his hand in yours.

He imagines you shouting to him, changing your mind, saying his name like it’s a song to sing, not mourning bells, not a curse or an affliction.

But none of it happens.

And when he turns around, you are gone.

You leave his life as viciously as you entered it, suddenly there, all furious and beautiful, and now gone, like a lightning strike, like a lifetime.

***

You tell yourself you’re going to be fine, but you spend random days weeping over a villain. You spend long nights awake, missing him, replaying it all in your mind. You cover all your mirrors. You try to be different. You wish you could say you regret ever getting involved with him, but it would be one more lie. You wish for the time before the worst of it, the strange honeymoon you never should’ve had.

You wish you’d remembered to slow down, to savor it all a little more. You try to remember what your first kiss was like and the shade of his eyes through the evening light of an abandoned warehouse.

You try to remember when you didn’t feel so heavy, so corrosive and lost.

It doesn’t help that you’re suspended from heroing; a choice made by both the Hero Commission and Shouta. There’s nothing for you to do some evenings.

Shouta lets you train with him and Shinsou still. Shinsou tries to cheer you up, though he doesn’t know what’s wrong with you. Still, it hurts because he’s trying. It hurts because he cares so much, even about you.

You don’t deserve it, after everything.

You take care of Eri more, too, now that she is nearly in Shouta’s care. You babysit her while he’s away. You grow close with her, fiercely protective of the young girl, careful to keep the Hero Commission at a distance from her. She settles in your lap on the couch in Shouta’s apartment most evenings, watching TV and movies, while he grades papers at the opposite end.

Sometimes she falls asleep tucked into your side. You stroke her silver hair and try to bite back tears.

She catches you, sometimes, perceptive as she is, and asks very gently, “Why are you sad?” even if a tear hasn’t slipped free yet.

And you always shake your head, trying to dispel the thought of Tomura and the parents that gave him such a tragic name as a child. You force a smile for her and you tell her something silly to distract her, “I’m not,” you promise, “I just think there’s an onion nearby.”

She wrinkles her nose at this, “No, there isn’t!” but she’s easily distracted with tickles or the promise of painting her nails or having a tea party with Shouta.

Miraculously, your relationship with Shouta begins to heal, despite your betrayal. You think he can tell something worse happened to you during your time with Tomura, you think he can tell that you’re hurting, so he ends up gentler with you. He doesn’t trust you, though, keeps you on a tight leash. He looks at you some days like he isn’t quite sure he knows you.

Nothing is the same. Part of you wants to regret it. The part of you that loves Tomura can’t stomach the idea of regretting it. Someone is dead because of you. Someone is alive because of you, too.

But Shouta doesn’t ask and you don’t tell, can’t seem to speak the words.

You can’t even say, I fell in love, can’t speak the truth because it is so horrible.

And you know what everyone would ask; who could love the likes of him?

Me, you think, vehement and grief-stricken, me, you think defiantly. Why couldn’t you? He was a child once–

Shouta lets you burrow into his chest, wraps his arms around you. He sways with you in the kitchen until you can keep back your tears, until your heart has slowed to the tempo of his. He kisses the top of your head.

And it’s Shouta who is with you, when you return from training, and open the door to your apartment to reveal a scruffy, mangy looking grey kitten that wasn’t there when you left.

Ryuji chirps happily at you, rushing to the open door.

For a moment, you’re so shocked that all you can do is stand, startled, as he rubs himself against your legs.

“Don’t tell me you found another stray–” Shouta starts, but all you get out is a small, choked noise.

And here is the impact from the fall, you think, looking at that little cat that is excitedly winding itself around your legs. You can feel the shattering of your heart, like he’d lobbed it against the wall. You wonder if it catches light the same way glass does, all stained with color and broken into shards.

You drop to the floor with the weight of it all, with the clean splitting of your heart.

The moment Ryuji climbs into your lap, a sob finally ruptures out of you.

Shouta is fast, coming down beside you, you think he’s asking what’s wrong, why you’re crying, but you’ve already gathered the kitten into your arms, cradling him to your chest as the tears come quick and furious down your cheeks.

You think maybe you should be more concerned as to how he got Ryuji here, in U.A. dorms, you should be worried about security and safety but all you’re thinking about is that little apartment that you hid from the world with him in.

No, all you’re thinking about is the way light fell through the lone window to turn him hazy and soft in your memory. You’re thinking about how he never denied you affection, so long as you gave it tenfold in turn. The drawl of his voice. The pressing of his fingers into your skin like you were a miracle.

To him, you were.

Another sob spills out of you, from somewhere deep inside you.

What a lonely life, to only be able to touch one person in certainty. You wonder who will be the next person that will lay their hands gently on a body that has known too much pain. You wonder if you will be the last person to do it.

The thought hurts, opens up a part of you that is tender and shaking and desperately furious.

When Shouta can’t figure out what’s wrong with you or why you’re crying, he gives up, and sits on the floor with you. He gathers you into his lap so your back is pressed to his chest, pushing your head beneath his chin, Ryuji still cradled in your arms.

You cry harder when Shouta tries to comfort you, when he hushes softly, so sweetly, only because you don’t think there’s anyone to comfort Tomura like this.

You think of Tomura alone, even without Ryuji and it just–

Crushes you.

You squeeze the kitten tighter to your chest as you cry and cry and cry. You let Shouta hold you against him, but there’s no comfort in the aching hollowness that is growing in the pit of your chest.

You want to scream at the world that tossed the coin.

But all that comes out is a garbled, misery struck, cry.

You never told him you loved him, never gave word to what consumed you. And you realize, sitting on the floor with a kitten in your arms, that you won’t ever be able to tell him now.

It will live and die inside of you, never spoken into existence.

And even though it’s too late and Tomura Shigaraki is readying for a battle with a giant without you at his side, you still whisper the words you never got to speak into the top of Ryuji’s head.

Your lips barely move with it, the quietest, most desperate, “I love you– I loved you.” that escapes you with a trembling breath.

Shouta doesn’t even hear the confession.

Ryuji nudges your cheek with his, though, purring softly, keeping your secret safe.

And in the least, you are able to twist into Shouta’s arms and bury your face in his chest to cry as hard as you need. There’s no distance between the two of you now, like you always wanted.

Always here when you need him, even now, when it’s not him you want.

The irony isn’t lost on you.

You mumble incoherent apologies into his shoulder, try to hide in him, like he might be able to shield you from all the hurt and ache of your first love. He doesn’t ask, but he tells you very gently, his voice like the hearth of your home, “If you ever want to talk, I’ll always be there for you.”

You keep Ryuji, clean him up, fit him with a new collar, a new life. Shouta helps you care for him.

Eri adores the kitten, hugging him to her smiling face every time she sees him. Thankfully Ryuji is even-tempered, eager for affection. Almost desperate for it.

Ryuji is like proof of another world, proof that it all happened.

Sometimes you rub between his ears and ask, “Do you miss it, too?” but all he does is peer at you inquisitively, eyes large and fixed on you.

You sleep with him, though, let the kitten curl up in your lonesome arms, hold tight to him the way you used to hold tight to Tomura.

***

In the middle of the night, your phone wakes you with its insistent chime and buzzing. You blink awake sleepily, slowly and blindly paw for your phone.

You turn the screen towards you and squint at the bright light, making out the word that flashes on it;

Unknown Caller.

You grimace, rubbing at your eyes. You debate putting your phone down, letting it ring and go to voicemail. Why should you answer for an unknown caller in the middle of the night?

And yet, something in you squirms, urges you to pick up. You have no idea who it might be— maybe someone needs your help. Is it possible it’s Shouta? Shinsou? What if it’s—

You answer finally, groggy voice slurring out, “Hello?”

You’re met with static.

“Hello?” you say again, voice hushed with sleep.

Still nothing.

Tomura sits on the other side, with the phone pressed desperately to his ear. He holds everything inside of him, barely allows himself to breathe on the other end.

He doesn’t know why he’s done this, only that he is on his way to proving himself with the League and he wishes you were still at his side.

He swallows, hears you call again, “Hello? Anyone there?”

He tightens his four-finger grip on the phone, squeezing his eyes shut at the sound of your voice, sleepy and soft in his ear, wrapping around the jagged parts of his heart.

He exhales and you must hear it because you say, “Is someone there?”

He bites back an answer, feels his lip tremble slightly.

He hears you huff, indignant little thing that you are and his lips pull into a shaky, painful smile. “I’m going to hang up now,” you say, all prickly, the way you’d get if he woke you too soon.

He used to soothe you with lips and teeth and tongue, run diligent fingers over you until you were sighing and arching into his touch. Until all your hard, vicious edges softened with the flattening of his palm on your body.

And for some reason you try, one last time into coaxing him to answer, “C’mon,” you say, almost like you know, “Nothing?”

Nothing, he wants to echo, but doesn’t.

His heart pounds an uneasy rhythm, a haunted tempo. He feels himself shaking again.

“Okay,” you exhale, slow, like you’re giving him a chance to stop you, “Goodbye.”

A beat passes, before he feels his heart lurch painfully in the hollow place of his chest at the thought of not hearing your voice again like this, so near. He doesn’t want you to go, wants to listen to you until it coaxes him to sleep.

“Wait– don’t hang up–“ Tomura hisses into the phone at the last moment, unable to decide if he wants you to hear him or not.

He gets his answer in the buzzing silence, long and drawn out, that fills his head. His heart.

And he sits there with his phone still in hand and his heart still on the line.

***

Tomura shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be watching you from afar, in the park that he thought you’d looked like a painting in. You’re beautiful.

But what does someone like him know about beauty, anyways?

The fireburst leaves are nearly gone, barely clinging to lone and stark branches. They claw up into the sky now, but the sun is shining. It’s mid-morning. You’re in the park with your mentor, with the violet haired boy he’d seen you with before, and the little girl with silver hair. The one that was in Overhaul’s care, with the devastating Quirk.

She tugs excitedly at your sleeve now and you give her your undivided attention, your face lighting up with whatever it is she tells you.

You scoop her into your arms and her echoing giggle is like wind chimes, melodic and childish and care-free.

You look happy, he thinks, with your mentor’s hand on the small of your back, looking down at you and the girl fondly. The violet-haired boy says something that makes the girl laugh, it makes you smile as you watch her.

You look back at your mentor with a look that Tomura has come to know; one that begs of attention and approval and affection. He can see the desperate glint to your eyes, hungry for his love.

He swallows around the sharp bitterness he feels. Jealousy floods him in a way he has never fully known. But it’s more than just jealousy for you and your attention, for the way you’re looking at your mentor.

No, it’s something greater, far worse.

He’s jealous of your mentor, with the easy way he gets to touch and look at you out in public. But he’s also jealous of you and your life.

He doesn’t realize it at first, but he’s begun to shake.

Because you were saved– isn’t that it? You were saved. And he wasn’t.

Maybe he’s jealous of the boy with you, too, with the possibility of his life so much brighter already. He has more of a chance than Tomura ever had.

Or maybe it’s the girl in your arms, with eyes like his, who he is most jealous of now. He has never allowed himself to ask;

Why couldn’t it be me?

But now he does and he can feel the pit in his chest grow with a livid sort of despair. Grief for a life never lived. Didn’t he deserve to be saved, too? Like the girl in your arms? Like you? Didn’t he deserve a life like this, too? What’s the difference? He wants to demand it, what’s the difference?

You were just a kid, you know?

His fingers dig into his neck. There is no one to stop him from breaking skin, for drawing blood on his own body. His chest festers, angry, like a blister. His stomach turns, his body trembling harder, like he’s a child, like he’s going to shake apart.

He looks at your smiling face, the curve of your lips, and wants you so bad it hurts. He wonders if you ever dreamt of him as a hero, the way he dreams of you as a villain. He wonders why it feels so unfair suddenly, the turning of your lives, the coming together and falling apart.

He shudders, feels the sudden lump in his throat. He tried not to mourn you, when you left him. He told himself that there was nothing to mourn; either you would be back or you weren’t worth it. He feels the pressure of tears now, though, much to his frustration. He feels his lungs burn for breath as he watches you hand the little girl off to your mentor, who props her onto his hip easily.

He watches you throw your head back and laugh, the sound of it distant, but he catches it, the outskirts of it. He used to feel that laugh against his throat, against his lips.

But now he watches you live a life he apparently never deserved.

His bottom lip trembles, a furious scowl marring his face.

He could scream or shout at a world that wouldn’t listen. The fact of it all, the helplessness of it all, burns beneath his skin like wildfire, like acid.

Tomura takes one last look at you; the expressive glimmer of your eyes, the flash of your teeth. He lingers on you, commits you to memory as if he could ever forget you. Maybe someday he will. Maybe he won’t have to, if you come back to him.

But he won’t wait on it, in an apartment that still has traces of you in it’s corners and crevices. No, he has more to do, bigger than him. Bigger than you.

Even if the horrible tempo of his heart begs differently, even if the shaking in his shoulders is an indication otherwise.

One last look of you– you’re talking, saying something with your hands. The little girl laughs again, her red eyes crinkling up happily.

Tomura turns away.

He walks a familiar path to the apartment, the wind tries to slice through his jacket, kicks up leaves and litter in shadowed alleyways.

He enters and there is no one trailing behind him, your hands twisted into the back of his hoodie, or his sleeves. It’s quiet. Empty. He surveys it once, the bed with unmade sheets. The window that let in beams of colored light, that Ryuji would sit at.

And then he sets his hands on the wall, all ten of his fingers down, the way he used to touch you.

The wall begins to decay, cracks and crumbles beneath his hands. It spreads, and spreads, and spreads like a disease filling out the body of the apartment. Dust begins to fall like early snow.

His heart squeezes painfully, his eyes suddenly flooding with pressure, with tears he tries to keep back. His head throbs, feels like it’s going to cleave apart. His ribs ache– hurt so bad it’s like he can feel the one you took from him, the gaping part of his chest.

His Quirk flares hard and hot and fast. It burns through him, floods his veins in a way that makes him cry out, suddenly shaking, suddenly pained.

He destroys the apartment, disintegrates the tiny world he created with you that existed outside of the real one. He unpauses the game. He takes apart what the world should’ve been, when he was here, with you. He sees now that a world like this cannot exist.

The peace, the ideal, the way you had understood him. Your unending compassion. It’s rare. Not enough to save the rest of them.

So he tears it all apart, pushes at his Quirk in a way he hasn’t been able to before, nudges at its strength to test it. It flares outward, eating away at the entire space, at the furniture, at the floor. Everywhere.

He seethes, blooming, finally allowing that livid and vicious thing inside of him to burst forward. It’s explosive, wrenching out of him in the form of terrible destruction.

He’ll grow into what he was supposed to–

I wanted to be a hero– when I was a kid.

The only option he ever really had, the hand extended to him a villain’s, gentle when he’d taken it.

He destroys the boy inside him, the one that was naive and hopeful and weak. He let’s that boy inside of him fall apart, split open and leaks gore before turning to dust, too. He kills the part of him that he had only ever shared with you, in the blue-dark of night, when you were lulled to sleep with just the sound of his heart.

He swallows down his anguish and his jealousy and his bitterness, keeps it safe inside him, like All For One always said to do. He’ll nourish it, let it grow, fester inside of him until the only thing it can do is explode out of him to tear the world apart, too.

When he’s standing in the rubble of the tiny world you’d made with him, the apartment complex demolished, the people inside gone, he knows what he has to do.

And he has so much work to do in order to achieve it.

He tries to forget you, to destroy your memory, too. He will not carry the weight of you around inside him.

(But in his dreams, you sit cross-legged in front of him, serene and beautiful, like a painting he knows nothing about.

In his dreams, you ask for his hands to have, and he gives you them to hold.)

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