#it was basically the same old song all over again. and when I realized how much love we can give to our people's art projects...

[sovamurka]

If you ever wondered what has been going on inside my head for the last year, then well, I guess you should know that it's "Я остаюсь" cover made by Igor 'Garik' Sukachev and... a LOT of rock musicians (yes, I'm going to list all of them, you will at least know the rock legends of my country), here they are:

- Sergey Shnurov ('Ленинград')

- Vladimir Shahrin ('Чайф')

- Alexander F. Sklyar ('Ва-Банкъ')

- Oleg Garkusha ('АукцЫон')

- Sergey Galanin ('Серьга')

- Sergey 'Chizh' Chigrakov ('Чиж&Co')

- Alexey Romanov ('Воскресение', 'Машина времени')

- Nikolai Devlet-Kildeev ('Моральный кодекс')

- Evgeny Margulis ('Воскресение', 'Машина времени')

- Andrey Blednyi and Anton Zavyalov ('25/17')

- Andrey 'Knyaz' Knyazev ('Князь', 'Король и шут')

- Nastya Poleva ('Настя')

- Svetlana Surganova ('Сурганова и Оркестр', 'Ночные Снайперы')

- Aya ('Город 312')

- Anton 'Puh' Pavlov ('F.P.G.')

- Masha Makarova ('Маша и медведи')

- Vladimir and Sergey Kristovsky ('Uma2rmaH')

- Tatyana Litvinenko ('Квартал')

- Maxim Kucherenko ('Ундервуд')

[youkissedareaderinthedark]

Mockingbird

Synopsis: Charles Leclerc as always been a family man, so it makes perfect sense to everyone when he chooses to adopt a child. Specifically, you.

adopted monegasque daughter reader x charles leclerc

A/N: for this one; charles will adopt y/n when he’s 28, for the most part, the grid will be the same as the 2023, everyone’s just older, and because charles’ relationships are unpredictable, he chooses to adopt and raise y/n mostly on his own.

. okay so

. again, charles has always wanted a family

. small, big, when he’s young, when he’s old

. doesn’t care, just wants a family

. specifically, a child

. but after many not-so serious and semi-serious relationships

. he realizes that he’ll have to wait a few years until he can have one of his own

. unless

. “what if I just adopt a child?”

. “I won’t have to wait any longer, I can just have one and raise them on my own terms”

. charles decides he likes this idea very much

. so he thinks it over and talks about it with his own family

. then after many conversations with his mother

. he visits a few adoption centers

. talks to a lot of social workers and child protective service workers

. finds one wide-eyed, adorable, 3 year old girl

. and falls absolutely in love

. the directors of the adoption center tell him all about you

. your birth parents, your story, your situation

. his heart was set

. the adoption process takes a few months

. so charles take that time to get ready for you

. but nothing could prepare him for the day the adoption agency called and told him you were his

. he swears it was the best day of his life

. he was beaming the entire drive to the adoption center with pascale

. had tears in his eyes when he finally got to hold you in his arms

. so then

. charles leclerc is a father

. the first two years of living with charles was definitely an experience

. you don’t remember much but he tells you how chaotic ages 3-5 were

. about how he basically lived with his mother in his childhood home for those years so she could help him take care of her granddaughter

. how much he loved getting to know you

. finding your favorite foods, toys, shows, ect

. how he loved teaching you his languages

. (he raises you in french, italian, and english, particularly in that order)

. how he cried when he dropped you off for day care and kindergarten the first time

. how he loved helping you know him

. like playing songs on his piano for you

. teaching you how to play different sports

. or watching old formula 1 races together

. speaking of formula 1

. you were raised racing

. charles bought you your first kart when you were six

. brought you to your first f1 race when you were five

. actually, charles had a love-hate relationship with bringing you to races with him during the early years of having you

. because on one hand

. there’s thousands of cameras around during a race weekend, and charles doesn’t want you televised 24/7

. and there’s also hundreds of people around him while he’s in the paddock, and he wants none of them near you

. it’s also hard to give you his full attention during race weekends

. which is something he always wants to do

. so he’s against the idea at first

. but on the other hand

. he can’t bear being apart from you for a few hours, nonetheless a few days or sometimes weeks

. and he knows you don’t really understand what’s going on, only that your dad puts on a red suit and drives a very fast car for a hour and half

. but he loves coming back to the garage to see you sitting with andrea, clad in ferrari merch and big headphones with a happy grin on your face

. it cheers him up no matter what happened on track

. and he knows he has lots of people willing to look out for you while he’s busy

. because you instantly became beloved by the grid the moment charles walked in with you in his arms

. who’s carlos sainz and pierre gasly?

. you only know uncle carlo and uncle pear

. uncle lew, uncle max, the list goes on

. although charles never lets you out of the ferrari garage

. his closest friends come in and visit you often

. sometimes because your dad asked, sometimes just because they want to

. also, speaking of max

. you met penelope during the winter break when you were five

. and even though she’s three years older than you

. she instantly became like your older sister

. and suddenly charles and max hang out a lot more often for the sake of their daughters

. anyway, the early years of living with charles were still chaotic, but he says that those years contain some of his favorite memories

. he loved watching you grow up

. sending you to primary school

. watching you kart on the same track he drove on when he was your age

. spending many afternoons at his mother’s house with his brothers

. (arthur and lorenzo are the best uncles by the way)

. watching you discover your own passions, whether that be racing or not

. traveling around the world with you, both to race and to explore

. watching you become independent, speaking up for yourself and what you believe in

. it all goes by very fast for charles

. and suddenly you’re a teenager

. by now charles is close to/about to retire

. so you don’t spend that much time in the paddock as a teenager

. but the times that you do are very fun

. instead of staying in charles’s team garage, you explore the paddock with penelope, who’s still an older sister to you

. you befriend all the newer drivers

. and hang out with whichever drivers are left from the grid when you first got adopted

. however, the drivers that charles has been friends with and have retired by now

. lewis, daniel, carlos, pierre, max, george, alex, lando

. you’ve formed your own big family with them and their kids

. because almost all of you live in monaco, you see each other often

. you guys go on vacations together when you don’t have school

. holidays on private beaches and expensive yachts

. or at booked-out ski resorts and mountain lodges

. you and penelope are the oldest, and are mostly in charge of looking after the youngest kids

. but you don’t mind, you love them

. it’s your own little f1 community

. but this is barely the beginning of having charles as a father

. he loves embarrassing you, for one

. at first glance, it might seem cool to have your dad come pick you up from school in a ferrari

. until he gets out in strangely pattered pants and a shirt that will never match

. “papa, do you not have anything else in your closet?”

. “what do you mean? you don’t like?”

. he says it keeps you humble

. you say he should just stay in the car next time

. charles does make sure you’re humble and grateful for everything you have

. but he doesn’t help by spoiling you to death

. you like something from the new gucci collection? it’s yours

. new dior bracelet you said is pretty? your birthday gift

. you think aruba looks nice? where do you think you two spend your next summer vacation

. “papa, when I said I wanted a break from school, I didn’t mean in italy”

. “but mon petit soleil, you are relaxed now, non? you’ll be back by monday, don’t worry”

. whether it be italy or not, wherever you go, charles tries to keep you as safe as possible

. he’s always been cautious of fans and paparazzi around you, no matter how old you are

. making sure you’re holding on to him when a crowd comes out from no where and gets too close for comfort

. keeping you by his side when there’s paparazzi around

. and doing whatever it takes to make sure you’re safe and happy at home/school/in the paddock

. anyway

. I could go on and on about being charles’ daughter

. but the point is that he loves you

. you’re y/n jules leclerc

. his petit soleil

. he couldn’t imagine his life without you

[alastorsfuckassbob]

Killing Me Softly- 4

AlastorxFem!Reader part 4

A/N: Ok so this is..uh LONG but its finally here!!! Val's text is in purple, yours is in blue, and Alastor's is red! As always bolded portions are the past..Yes I did revert to using another song sue me. As always: MINORS DNI

Plot: Valentino is a piece of shit You and Al are so shitty at feelings and communication..thats basically it.

⚠️Warnings:⚠️

-Sexual innuendos (they aren't graphic but they are spicy)

-Domestic abuse (this got a lot worse so please be mindful of that and use your own discretion- you are responsible for your internet consumption)

-Alcohol use AND abuse

-Violence!! ~mentions of blood~

-A LOT of cursing ��

 You had decided to take “small nap” to rid your body of the final remnants of exhaustion from night before. That so called “small nap” somehow lasted a good ten hours, leaving you with only two before you needed to arrive at the club again. You sat on the edge of your bathroom counter, the excess silky fabric of your slip cascading over the edge. You grab a stray eyeshadow pallet and begin to apply your makeup. You had decided on an inky toned smoky eye and a lightly lined liquid lip. It was a bit different from your usual look, but it complemented your new wardrobe perfectly. You glanced over at the folded scarlet fabric, excited to wear it again. 

You had decided to get ready at home today. Angel wasn’t working tonight, so there was no sense in being at the club earlier than you really needed to be. You snapped your fingers, and the shadow behind you began to style your h/c hair in his place. It wasn’t often Angel didn’t have to work on a Saturday night. Even in Hell, weekends came with higher foot traffic. Val insisted he had earned a break after yesterday’s long shoot. It was a rare occasion but not entirely out of character. Val couldn’t break his favorite toy.

After a few more pins, the shadow dawned a bright smile and jazz hands upon completing your hair. You looked absolutely gorgeous, the pitch black entity had done a fantastic job. Your hair was twisted into bouncy side swept curls adorned with tiny sparkling gems. You wanted to meticulously appreciate the effort it had so graciously put in, but your guilt riddled conscience kept you from any real form of enjoyment. 

 You needed to stop thinking of him. The more you let yourself fall back on memory, the more you would love him. The more you loved him ,the more it would hurt when he realized he couldn’t love you anymore. It wasn’t his fault, no one could. This was your penance. It wasn’t supposed to be easy. 

Memory had sunk its claws into your wrist. It hopelessly dragged you along by its blood lined chains and scarlet stained fingertips like an old desperate beggar. The hold Valentino had on your soul was insubstantial in comparison to the grasp Alastor had on your heart. You didn’t understand why that was. Val was your whole life, and he would be until eternity itself figured out a way to die.  It would make sense for him to reside in the core of your thought, but he didn’t, he never stayed there long.

 Unlike Alastor,  Val owned you. 

Unlike Alastor, he was there 

Unlike Alastor, 

you could actually feel his lips on your skin.

He had a predictable consistency to him. It was always the same constant battle between his unquenchable hatred and guilty heart. 

Val  insisted he “loved” you in his own way.  From the shackles on your wrists, he had tied you to the stake-All so that he could look for your love. He struck the match against your skin, and lit you both ablaze because he hated that he wanted it. In the end it would never matter how many times the heat touched your skin, it wasn’t going to feel like love.      

You knew what that was supposed to feel like. You had shared your heart with a great many souls in your time on Earth. Love was bathed in forgiveness and brushed with magnolia petal kisses. That love didn’t see you through eyes lined with antagonism, sparkled with fury and blended out with shades of exasperation.

 Valentino did. 

His lips were colored in hot pink brutality. It would smear across your skin with every kiss. He would leave you haloed in messy lipstick stain bruises and be on his way.

 His absence never lasted long. The color in his cheeks was permanently rouged with the lethality of your figure. Eventually, the guilt would seep through his pores, and the chemical reaction would wash his face of your blood. He would return with a silver plated tin bracelet and a few mangled words of affirmation. 

“ Y/n, you know I love you. I didn’t mean a word of it Mi Amore. You are the most beautiful demon this side of hell. I just get so upset sometimes there’s nothing else I can do. I can’t control my anger Amorcito, you know that.”

It’s not that he couldn’t control his anger, he was fully capable. He just didn’t. He never thought it was important to try. Even in his time on Earth, he didn’t care to put forth the effort. He was born with distain and died with detestation. He had always been this way. The guilt he felt afterward would never amount to the freedom found in his bloodied hands. There wasn't a finite limit to the apologies he could patch the holes he punched into your heart with. In the end, it wouldn’t matter. Any remorse he felt would slip from his conscience like every instance before it. It made sense how quickly he was able to rise into over lord status.

  Your focus shifts to the cherry fabric folded beside of you. You haphazardly grab the dress, lifting it over your head. Its crystal beads babbling in your ear as you slide it on. For a moment, the ghost of your human body silhouettes your demonic figure in the mirror.  Distant memories began to bubble up to the surface. In the true spirit of avoidance, you hopelessly shut them out as you grabbed your satin purse and walked out the door. 

As you left the building the newly warmed breeze swirled through your hair. The sunny weather practically lifting your wings for you as you flew towards the club. You reveled in the distance it granted you from your life. From the above clouds, Hell was actually rather pretty. The seemingly dull color scheme found a bit more variation the higher you flew. The different areas of the city blending into one. With each flap of your wings, the clouds whispered murmurs of freedom into your ears. For just a moment, it almost didn’t feel like hell.

 The rest of the flight is relatively peaceful, excluding the occasional scream from the city below.  Eventually you arrive at the club and head to your dressing room. You plop down on the velvety plush sofa seated against the wall.  It was still a bit early for places, so you elected to read one of Angel’s trashy magazine to pass the time. A ginger knock at the door draws your focus from celebrity scandals and tv drama. 

“Amorcito”

Valentino’s voice worms itself into your ear. He leans against the door frame looking for any indication of fear on your face. He didn’t want to scare you off before he had the chance to explain himself. You shoot him a tired glare and return to your magazine. Even if you wanted to answer it’s not like you had the ability to.

“Right, I forgot.”  He muses, his smirk practically bleeding into his eyes. With a wave of his hand , the sigil on your wrist begins to spark in a hot pink glow. In a puff of smoke, your voice returns to you. 

“Do you need something Val” you ask.  It comes out a bit raspier than you had intended. Hopefully he didn't take it as a form of aggression. You had somehow landed yourself in his good graces, and you didn’t want to fall from them any sooner than you had to.  

“I can’t have you sitting silent for your dear clients now can I y/n?” 

You didn’t respond. Mentally, you rolled your eyes. The statement was laughable. He would tear your soul to pieces if he could hear the sarcasm racketing around your brain at the current moment. 

“Mi amor, you know I didn’t mean it. I can’t have my favorite muñeca upset with me, can I?” 

You stay silent. Your body still wept with the soreness of the night before, but he had come here with the expectation you would nurse his pride back to health.

“You know that I love you baby” His tone was permeated with an emotion you couldn't quite place. For the first time, the desperation on his face surpassed the bloodlust. It lacked his usual innuendos and crude curses. If you hadn't known better you might have believed he really did- yet something deep within you really did want to believe he could be good. Maybe he didn't love you but he did feel slightly sorry and maybe that would be enough. You stood up from the sofa and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

"I know you do Val. Don't worry about it" The words are sweet but the emotion behind them is entirely dead. His arm slinked around your waist, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips. 

"I want to thank you, for the dress. Its really beautiful. You have great taste” You added. Your hand layered on top of his, a gentle, but very obviously fake smile curving into your lips. Val loved compliments, the antennae on his forehead usually perked up whenever he received one. 

To your surprise, he started to laugh, his shoulders shaking in its ferocity. “ Y/n you can’t be serious.” 

You didn’t really understand what was funny or why you were nervously laughing along with him. You didn’t have to know why, you just had to go along with it. If you had to guess, he was probably intoxicated in one way or another. Most of the other performers and employees constantly were on some level. It would make sense if he was too. “I’m almost insulted you would even pretend that I would put you in something that tacky, and not to mention conservative. I treat you better than that don’t I?” 

With that, you were even more confused..Did he not gift you the dress? Where the hell else would it come from?  You couldn't even begin to craft a response. You had to come up with something quickly, and improvisation(lying) was not your best skill. Your mind darted from one lame excuse to another. You didn’t have time to think critically about it you just had to say something.

“Yeah I thought it would be a funny joke, I agree it is a bit old fashioned, It definitely needs a little update..I liked the color though.” You lied straight through your teeth. It wasn't clear if he had bought into your practically incoherent rambling. As all good liars do, you dug the hole a few feet deeper with a few more details to seal the deal.  “I wasn’t sure how to alter it so I thought I’d ask you for your opinion”. 

Even if the excuse was lame, it covered all the bases. 

“In my opinion we shred it”  His quiet laugh sounded egotistical to say the least. If something or someone didn't fit his taste he saw no reason why it should exist.

Disappointment drapes your frame from the tips of your horns to the bottom of your heels. Even if the dress had apparently spawned from some freaky stalker, you really did like it. 

“Are you sure I couldn’t just wear it as it is for one night? I could add a slit or something for the next time "Hope laced your bargain as you spoke. You knew he would probably say no but you couldn't help but ask. 

“Y/n, Baby, as hot as I think you look in anything. This dress is going to need some serious alterations if you expect to wear it in front of our rowdy crowd. I can't let you go out there dressed like a nun, it would be awful for business” His face twists into a sly sneer. An idea bubbled on the surface of his thoughts.Before you can register what is happening, his hands are tracing the outline of your hips. Each separated claw of his fingers ran down your body until they stopped just above the outer edge of each thigh. On the surface the action didn't exhibit his typically harmful nature, but if you dared to look even a fraction of an inch closer you would see its minatory subtext. 

“Don’t worry, I think we can figure out something simple out for tonight”. His fingers draw together into a unified line. He digs his nails in a little deeper into you as he drags them down your leg until they reach the floor. He had effectively sliced a high slit on both sides of the dress, with little to no effort. He had pushed a little too deeply in some areas, small pricks of blood leaked from a few irregularly shaped scratches in consequence.

“You look like perfection in red baby”, he breaths out. He stayed crouched on the floor for a moment. You couldn’t tell if he was admiring the surprisingly straight lines of his work or the dots of blood that speckled your skin. He takes your hand in his and places a wet kiss on your wrist where the sigil had been burned into your skin. 

“I can’t wait to see you shine tonight Amorcito” 

He kissed up your arm as he rose from the floor. The way his tongue slithered around your forearm made you dreadfully uncomfortable. The feeling was slimy and otherwise indescribable. You were almost grateful you didn’t have the words to describe your disgust so that the feeling would die with you instead of being passed around to others by language.

You were eternally grateful when he finally walked through the exit. He was finished with his fun with you, at least for now.The club had opened a little more than ten minutes ago. As its owner, he had an obligation to fulfill his duties (flirt with hot guys) ,and supervise the club floor (get blackout drunk and fuck aforementioned hot guys ). Val loved to watch as sinners got down and dirty in the corners of his dimly lit clubs. It was a bit of an ego boost to know he had helped create an environment that led to that sort of thing. He enjoyed the epigrammatic conversations and miscellaneous substance his customers brought with them. He was great at sharing when it came to things that weren’t his own. He loved to hear them praise his accomplishments, and disclose the desire they shared for him and his performers almost as he loved to get high. By the look of tonights crowd, he was in for another pleasurable evening, or so he thought. 

A curt laugh track interrupted the regularly scheduled cycle of conversation. Val’s head practically spun backwards upon noticing the deer eared demon lounging at the edge of the balcony. 

"What the fuck is he doing here" Val grunted under his breath.  He was supposed to be dead.

Alastor, apparently, never received the memo. He sat with a glass of indifferent whiskey in the VIP segment of the balcony above. He was fitted in a well cut vermilion pin stripe suit and a pair of wing tipped oxfords. Despite his polished exterior and perpetual smile, his eyes were glossed in boredom. 

The conversations of lower demons never really intrigued him, they didn't speak much about anything outside of the bounds of recreational drug use. He wasn’t ashamed to admit he had spent time in that particular circle back in his younger days. Perhaps it was the drastic change of aesthetic, or maybe the culture surrounding it had just shifted too much for his liking, but it just didn’t appeal to him anymore. Alastor found the environment dreadfully exhausting. The distinct loud bump of electronic base and synthesized beats made it hard to hear his own thoughts. He was in for a long boring night. There really wasn’t anything more for him to do than pass judgment on the tasteless decor. 

He looked around at the tacky overtly sexual paintings hung against the walls. It was one of Valentino’s classier clubs, but that doesn’t mean the interior designer wasn’t entirely delusional when they picked out its color pallet. For lack of a better word, it was just ugly. The Deep pinks and vibrant reds of the walls accented the white porcelain pillars that framed them. (Vaguely reminiscent of a tampon) The dark purple of the leathery chairs somehow blended in with the black marble tile in such a hideous way the word “unity” didn’t even begin to spark his mind. 

With the exception of its more intimate performance space and higher end clientele, it wasn’t that much different than the typical club experience Valentino provided. It still featured his usual sex rooms and coke lined tables, despite its overall calmer energy. Alastor didn’t understand how you ended up in a place like this. It didn’t seem like you. He had instructed the newest soul under his contract to follow you and figure out your daily routine and “basic facts of life”. He would never admit it, but he was mostly curious to learn of your relationship status. He wanted to know if you had gotten married or if you had moved on. He had been dead for years ,it would make sense if you had. He didn’t want to step back into your life unless he knew everything.He needed to know what approach would work best on you.  “Evidently” you weren’t just outwardly spouting that information into the hilltops. The poor soul came back with a list of two locations and not much else. Naturally, it didn’t get to live much longer. He was not a man to have his time wasted. If he wanted something done correctly the first time he should have just done it himself. So here he was, awaiting your performance.  

 Valentino walked across the crowded floor, his clenched fists glued to his sides. Alastor’s bored expression made his blood boil. He carelessly dodged dancing couples and trays of champagne in his quiet anger. Val never liked that old timey prick or his rickety dated voice. It grated his ears endlessly, not to mention he was just flat out annoying. If Val wanted to listen to some random lanky old man’s diet British accent and senseless uppity rambles;  he would have turned on Downton Abby or some other old pretentious shit. Each step he took towards the radio demon deepened the scowling smirk growing on his face. If Alastor was going to ever so nonchalantly seat him self and a glass of whiskey in the VIP section of HIS club, at least one of them going to have his fun with it. 

“I didn't take you to be a fan of my work Alastor, lovely to see you as always” Val slid into the booth across from him. The remaining groups still seated at the surrounding tables grabbed their drinks and found a better place to be. It was a well known fact the two of them weren’t friends 

“I am most decidedly not! however the streets of hell will not stop praising a certain canary singing on your steps, and I am by far intrigued" His eyed narrowed as his grin grew wider. 

“Oh really? It is my little siren you are interested in? Don’t let her pretty little face fool you, she’s a real bitch to work with. She thinks shes hot shit just because the sound of her voice is enough to chain any demon.” He feigned disinterest, flicking his nails to the side to observing their color.

“Oh really~Where ever did you find her? Surely if she is this talented I would have heard of her already"  Agitation seethed through Alastor's voice. He had never liked Valentino, he found his methods to be crude and unseemly. The way he spoke of you hazed Alastor's vision in permanent red. He had killed far greater demons for far less than the disrespect he had sent your way. However, he knew he couldn't act on that urge quite yet. He was on a mission. He needed to know more about why you were here first in the first place. No one here would know better than the sleazy club owner himself.

“ I don’t really think that’s your business" Valentino accused, venom dripping from his tongue. He didn't really care why the radio demon had taken such a fast interest in a lowly sinner like you. It didn't matter. It gave him something to work with. He had something he didn’t. Pride is a fickle thing, he could use this to get under his skin. 

He didn't want a physical altercation by any means, not in his own territory anyway. Vox would never let him live it down if he started a fight in his own club and accidentally tore it to the ground in the process. A verbal sparring session would have to do for now. Val loved starting any sort of argument he could conceive. 

"My little dove tends to shy away from the limelight. She used to do all of her performances behind a mask, but don’t you worry I was able to coax her out of it." (are you secretly the masked singer?? omg) "You'll be in for a wonderful show tonight." Pride overtook Valentino's usually mendacious features as he spoke. He had something Alastor didn't. Val wanted nothing more than to spark jealousy in his heart. Alastor, wasn't oblivious to his intentions, it just wasn't his primary focus. More-so, he felt frustrated with questions he couldn't ask. You couldn't have been in Hell for more than a few days. How many performances had you really had time for? The possibility you had existed down here for any longer than that didn't exist to him. 

"Now Valentino, there's no reason to be secretive, unless you have something to hide. Surely if this woman is as fantastic as you say she is, there is  no need to hide the details of her origin, I'm sure it must be quite the story"  A deceitful glimmer coruscated his smile, as he took another careless swig of whiskey. His pointed fingers gripped tighter around the glass, cracking its edge.

" Actually-it’s the opposite, trust me its not even worth mentioning” Val laughed. “Why not enjoy the present and focus on her current skillset a? Surely you must have seen her around somewhere, she’s a real star on film." His tone was maliciously sweet, but the dry rasp of his voice revealed the truth. A dark glint flashed in his eyes as he thought of your previous work. 

Getting information out of "barney the big purple pimp"  Valentino was going to be harder than Alastor had previously anticipated. Any information he might’ve had on you was under lock and key. At this point, he considered just ripping off Valentino's stupid little egg shaped head and calling it a day. He didn't understand what you saw in him or this dingy sweat stained bar. In your time on earth, the two of you had spent many nights dancing together in the speakeasies and glitzy clubs of New Orleans. This wasn't the type of establishment you would usually go in for. He had always known you to see the best in others, even if they so evidently didn't deserve it. You sharpened your sword for those you deemed worthy even if they despised you for it. If you were here it must meant you had seen something worth redemption within him. 

"You must be very proud of her accomplishments to rave on about her in this way" Alastor’s voice was fitted in the same snarky tone you often took with Valentino, but unlike you, he could tear the whole club apart with a snap of his fingers. Val didn’t want to deal with that, not here. He would have to wait and slit the radio demon's throat outside of his territory. 

"Enjoy the show Alastor.” He quipped promptly showing the conversation to its end. Valentino walked away before he could get in a word otherwise. 

Val didn’t know the nature of Alastor’s apparent attraction towards you, but he personally knew the pain desperately wanting something you couldn't have caused. Ironically, Alastor was the indirect cause of that familiarity. Through Valentino's partnership with Vox, obsession had sprouted.  Something about the way his televised voice distorted in anger drew him in. He had been caught on his snarky personality and quick wit almost as much as the pitiful reassurances the TV demon would occasionally throw his way. He knew the feelings he had amounted for Vox were never going to be reciprocated.  He would never look his way so long as the radio demon walked the streets of hell. Even if Valentino couldn’t bring about his revenge in his typical violent way, he was determined to get it. You were the key he didn’t know he had. After all, no sinner could resist the call of your sweet song or the appeal of your hips. The radio demon would be no different. 

Eventually, one of Val’s assistants called you to places. You walk through the backstage area, a trail of glittery red streaming behind you. You always loved the moment before the show began. It was typically quiet, everyone attended to their own business. They rarely stopped to bother you, it offered you a moment of order before the chaos this performance would plunge you into. You grab a sugar rimmed shot glass from underneath the bar cart left for the performers. You didn’t bother to read the labels on the bottle as you poured a heavy handed shot. As soon as the liquid touched your lips you realized it had been gin. Despite the burning in your throat, and the sour taste it left in your mouth, you refilled the glass a few more times. On some level, you felt guilty for the amount of alcohol you had just consumed.On a deeper level, you knew you couldn’t make it through a set without it. It was a means to an end, nothing more. 

 Valentino’s compulsion for revenge had led him towards the velvety amethyst curtains of the stage you stood behind. Whatever good mood he was in earlier had vanished, his disposition was dripped in murderous rage. He storms up to you, roughly taking your chin in his hand. 

“I don't fucking know why or how but the radio demon is here. You better make me look good-I’ve already throughly sung your praises and I will not be embarrassed in front of that shit head”  He paced as he spoke hostility following at his heels. “For some reason, he has taken an interest in you. I need you to give an extra little show to the balcony he’s seated in the center. Hes the lanky washed out red asshole with the bitchy little antlers, you can’t miss him.” The words he had spoken jumbled in your brain. You weren’t really paying attention, the calming aura of the alcohol had begun to hit your system. 

“I thought he was dead, are you sure it’s him?” you mumbled as you picked of the remaining sugar crystals from your glass. 

 You had briefly heard of the radio demon in your time-He hadn’t been around for years, most demons speculated that someone finally managed to kill him. He disappeared three years after your arrival in hell, but his methods left a lasting impression. The agonizing screams he had broadcasted still echoed in your dreams occasionally. However, despite your deeply rooted fear, you admired him on some level. He was clever to say the least, and his morals weren’t entirely questionable either. He thought dealing in cheaper souls was crass and frankly unnecessary. He left weaker demons alone, unless they stepped in the way of his path.He wouldn’t pick a fight with anyone he didn’t deem strong enough to fight back. 

 His hands shoot against your throat, the force of the action drags you into sobriety.  His fingers thrust deeper into your skin as he lifts you from the floor by your neck. He had a lot riding on this, and he wasn’t going to let your indifference ruin that. Your grasp on the shot glass loosens as your vision begins to spot from the lack of oxygen. It falls from your hand and shatters with the impact.

“Your job isn’t to ask questions, it’s to get out there and make me look good” he drags your body closer and growls into your ear. 

He slams your body against the floor of fragmented glass. The sole of his foot makes contact with the palm of your hand, pushing the shards deeper into your skin. Crimson flowed through the wounds  in a steady pour. Hot tears took residence in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. 

“ If you fuck this up for me, I’ll do a lot worse than just take your voice Y/n. You don’t want to see me angry. I promise you, you won’t like it.” His foot presses harder against your skin. His dark tone sends shivers down your spine. He had released his grasp on you, but the syllables that slithered out of his mouth constricted around your throat. 

Despite your decision not to cry, the tears began to spill. They weren’t entirely motivated by the pain. The situation had become too similar to those that had existed in your life, and this was your body’s reaction to that. The heat from his glare could have cauterized your wounds. He removed his foot from your hand as he crouched down next to your tear stained figure. His fingers graze the edges of your cheek. His touch is surprisingly gentle as he wipes droplets from your face.

“I can’t wait to see you tonight Amorcito, you always put on such a good show for me.” He kisses your injured hand, the cuts begin to close as his lips come into contact with your skin. He licks the remaining blood from his lips and returns to the club floor- leaving you in a pool of maroon colored regret and splintering glass. 

You watch the stage manager’s eyes roll as they grab a mop to clean up the mess. Whatever they were getting payed, it wasn’t enough. Although the ordeal wasn’t out of the ordinary, it was definitely inconvenient. You stand up from the floor brushing the remaining glass off of your dress and walk through the curtains and onto the stage. Even without a physical mask, you were still wearing one. You dawned a bright sultry smile and an uppity attitude as you waved to your adoring fans. At times the outlandishly theatric persona could be fun. The ecstatic cheers of the crowd after each movement made you feel powerful in an odd way. The attention often fueled your performance into the more seductive destination Val had wanted to begin with. It was a means to an end, nothing more.

“Good evening to all of my lovely sinners in the audience” The sound of your voice echoed over the endless chatter of the club. You sat down at the edge of the rounded stage, your legs dangling over its edge. The short demon in front of you practically drooled as your body edged a little more off the platform in his direction. You noticed his reaction and wanted to take things a step further. Your wings spread, taking you closer to the table he sat at, the edge of your finger tilting his head up to meet your own.

“I’ve got a wonderful show in store for just you tonight” Seduction over took your tone as you blew the demon a kiss leaving the entire table absolutely dumbfounded. You travel back to the stage with various sexual remarks towards the other inhabitants. You sit back on the stage, slowly extending your legs to the side, crossing them as you do. You tease the slits in your dress to the side revealing a bit more skin. The patrons erupt into a sea deafening screams. 

The lights suddenly cut out, you dissipated with them. The shred of an electric guitar echoed throughout the space. An array of red and purple spotlights flood the center of the stage. You reappear in a puff of smoke as they do. The music was a bit “edgier” than what you’d usually go for. The genres you listened to spanned a vast array of styles, but you usually preferred to sing the softer tunes of the earlier decades. Valentino’s typical clientele however, needed a newer, rougher pop/rock sound. The drum set clicks in tandem with the percussive click of your heels as you begin your dance. 

A wickedly wide grin stretches across your face, you were ready to start the show. You began to sing.

“I heard he sang a good song

I heard he had a style”

This was your compromise. You could sing anything you wanted to so long as you updated the instrumentals. Most of the people in the club were too wasted to listen to the lyrics anyway. It didn’t really matter what you sang as long as you sounded good and looked hot doing it. Hell’s population would eat up anything you served them. Their mouths began to water as you drop to the floor, arching your back away from them. The music flowed through you, awakening a deep sensuality in your movement . Each twist of your hips accented the intense chords and high hat hits of the accompaniment. Your hair formed a halo around you as you turned onto your back. Your legs extend into the air earning an influx of vulgar cheers from the surrounding demons. Any softness your voice had once held disappeared as growled into the next phrase.

“And so I came to see him

To listen for a while”

You slowly slid up from the floor, your hands following the shape of your curves until they reached pit of your neck. Your fingers splayed against its circumference as you rolled your eyes back into your head.  You glanced up to the balcony to make sure the radio demon was watching, the dim lighting prevented you from seeing anything more than his silhouette. 

Alastor wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the glance you threw him, or your performance. On the one hand, he was endlessly enamored with you. Alastor would have dedicated the rest of his life to sing your praises in that moment if you had just asked him to. He loved to listen to you sing and watch you dance in any context.

On the other hand however, it made him extraordinarily jealous. He hated the lewd comments and desire filled glances of the other demons around him.  It made sense they were attracted to someone like you, but that doesn’t mean he liked that they were. He would remember each face that dared utter such filthy things about you, and deal with them later.  His attention shifted back to your voice as you spun your voice into a decadent riff. 

“And there he was this young boy

A stranger to my eyes”

 You turned upstage to the silver pole that spun in its center. Hundreds of eyes glazed over in pure lust as your spine pressed against the pole. You were practically suffocated with screams as your form flipped upside down. You dropped one arm from the pole, the tips of your wings grazing the floor as your newly freed hand followed the lines of your body. 

 Your exaggerated and frankly pornographic expressions as you twisted against the pole made Alastor apprehensive. The feeling of unease was not caused by disgust but concern. As much as he loved to listen to you sing, this  didn’t feel right for him to watch. It felt too fake. You looked far too uncomfortable for his liking.He had seen you in a more intimate light before. Even decades later the mere thought of your gentle gasps and fluttering lashes dragged him up from hell and sent him straight to heaven. He was familiar with the grind of your hips against his own, and the feeling of your hands in his. He knew every freckle on your body and the exact degree of your spine’s curvature. He loved nothing more than to worship each fold in your figure. He adored the gentle light that always seemed to flicker in your eyes in those sensitive moments. He reveled in your loving glances and gentle touches he was not bothered with the sexuality of it all but rather its performative nature. This felt too over the top. Despite your energetic movements and sensual smile, your eyes were cold and dead. He didn’t want his memory caught on your legs wrapped around his waist or his head between your thighs if it was just a performance. It didn’t feel right to. He pushed the thoughts from his mind and focused on the sound of your voice. Even with its dolorous tamber the whisper of your gentle heart found its way to seep through. 

"Strumming my pain with his fingers

Singing my life with his words

Killing me softly with his song"

You notice Val seated between two tall blonde demons with their legs crossed over his. He was very clearly not impressed with them or your movements on the pole. His disinterest grew with each sip of his drink. He gives you a pressing look. In that moment you knew exactly what he wanted. He had had enough of your stalling. You looked good but you needed to look better. 

"Killing me softly with his song

Telling my whole life with his words

Killing me softly with his song"

With a slight roll of your eyes, you fly up to the balcony. You place yourself onto the thick marbled railing with your back to the radio demon. With a quick twist your of your hips, you straddle the banister your body rolling against it ever so slightly. You make direct eye contact with the patron in the center booth. He wore a mask crafted in wilted black rose petals and the scent of death, but underneath he held your late lover’s face. His deep red eyes meet your own e/c ones The glimmer of his previously golden swirled dark brown eyes clashed against his current ghostly red ones  He brushed a strand of his straightened two toned hair  to the side of his face. He carried the same nose, body, and expression as Alastor- Your Alastor. You turn upstage to compose yourself. You sway your hips to the beat of the music in order to keep up appearances. You turn your weary head behind you to his table to make sure you hadn’t imagined it. Even in its outstretched state, his smile gave him away. It really was him. After years of searching, you had finally found him, or better yet, he found you. For just a moment, you had forgotten your penance and your heart flowed with oceans of love. You floated within them in pure ecstasy. In that moment, and animosity you held for him faded away with the weight of your excitement.

"I felt all flushed with fever

Embarrassed by the crowd"

Abruptly the realization hits you, he was seated where the radio demon should have been- that must mean that Alastor; Your  Alastor, was the radio demon. Your mind flipped to the initial radio broadcast he first spoke to you with, as well as the note signed “yours truly”.  Alastor had used that phrase so often as a sign off from the radio show…..Perhaps you weren’t the sharpest little crayon in the demon filled box- considering the embarrassingly long time it took you to put the pieces together. 

"I felt he found my letters

And read each one out loud"

Realizing this sent a wave of relief through you. Perhaps he could free you from this life, he was one of the strongest demons in hell. If anyone could break your contract with Valentino, it would be him...Would he even consider it? Your mind swirled in a storm of questions. Why the sudden change? As the relief of the initial realization began to fade and a new understanding took root. He had left you in life, why would he want to help you now? 

You couldn’t help but wonder why he was really here. Considering his previous track record, nothing made sense. Why would he speak to you within his broadcast, or gift you the dress, or show up to your workplace if he hadn’t payed you any mind in such a long time?

He must have wanted something from you. That would be the only logical reason for his sudden appearance. If he truly had always been the radio demon, he held power. He had all of the necessary resources to find you and he never did. He didn’t need to. 

"I prayed that he would finish

But he just kept right on"

You think back to the various gifts he would purchase you before he asked something of you, or the roses he would send to your apartment if you two had an argument in your life together. Your years of wondering why he had left boiled down to one simplistic answer…He had always just needed something. The more you thought on this, the more painfully obvious it became. He wasn’t here because he loved you. He was only here because you had become convenient again.The second he deemed you impractical, he would leave you as he had before.

"Strumming my pain with his fingers

Singing my life with his words"

You fly away from the balcony, sliding down the metal pole in the center of the stage to reach the floor. You were thankful the stage lights blinded you from his pressing gaze once you were on the ground. You would ignore the balcony entirely for the remainder of the performance. It didn’t matter if Valentino would be upset, you couldn’t bear to look at Alastor anymore- Yet even with your newfound distance, he had chained you to memory. You were transported back to the downtown apartment in which you had previously spent so many hours with him in.

 1930 New Orleans: Your apartment 

The candlelit room was a patchwork of miscellaneous vintage furnishings and modern decorative trinkets. You had moved into your apartment not long after your father had passed. Most of the items within it were gifted to you upon his death. He preferred victorian architecture over all else, it was natural his taste in interior design would follow. You leaned against the sage patterned love seat with a cooling cup of tea in hand. The star speckled sky, and tepid air of late April seep through your opened window.

You awaited the arrival of your lover. Alastor wasn’t a man to be late. He was meticulously early and always prepared. His absence had begun to torment you in anxiety. The grandfather clock stationed in the corner of the room struck midnight, furthering your worries. He was supposed to arrive at 7:30, obviously it was long past that. 

He had promised to take you out dancing to make up for the late hours he had begun to keep at the studio. He had become more withdrawn than you cared to admit. He disappeared for days at a time. On the few days you managed to get ahold of him, he dismissed you, insisting he needed to keep working on his show. It aggravated you to no end, but you would never want to be another obstacle on the way to his dreams. It was easier to let it go and enjoy the time you did have with him.

You had the bad habit of jumping to the worst scenario.You didn’t live in the safest sector of the city, it was entirely possible he had been attacked along the way. Your mind shifts to the uprising of missing person’s cases New Orleans had been plagued with. The media speculated a killer of some kind, but the police department denied those theories. They hadn’t found any of the bodies, and refused to believe they were going to.

 If he wasn’t here within the next hour, you were going to search for him yourself.

"Killing me softly with his song

Killing me softly with his song"

An abrupt knock steals you from your worries, you rush to its source without a second thought. You open the door to the dark curly haired man you had been waiting for. To your surprise, his usually tidy hair was unkempt and rumpled around his newly bruised face. His disheveled blood stained clothing reflected the crimson pouring from his nose. You froze like a deer in headlights, it was one hell of a way to show up for a date. 

"Killing me softly with his song

Killing me softly with his song"

“Oh my god” you whispered under your breath. Your hands appear at the sides of his face tracing each little scratch and the deep bruise forming around his eye. “Love..what happened? Are you okay?” You stuttered out.

He sent you a sheepish smile, not wanting to raise any concerns.“May I come in” he asked placing his hand on top of your own.

  His “previous activities” were rather impromptu. Usually, his targets were much better thought out, and handled much more methodically. Although he enjoyed the anguished screams of his victims, he would never hurt anyone who wasn’t actively or indirectly hurting you, the same applied to this kill. The timing wasn’t ideal but it was a necessity.

He had decided to walk to the flower shop from the station so he could surprise you with a fresh bouquet before your date. He felt tremendously guilty for his recent absences, and wanted to alleviate that with a gift. Even if he missed you dreadfully, New Orleans birthed the scum of the earth. It was more important to keep you protected than to keep long expanses of your company. He would never forgive himself if something he could have prevented happened to you.

Upon his arrival into the shop, he was rather annoyed with the short brutish man that held up the line. He shamelessly flirted with the owner of the shop, who very clearly did not care for his advances. Alastor wouldn’t stand for such behavior. It was better to deal with the issue then instead of allowing you to continue to exist in a world full of degenerates. He would do anything to keep you safe. 

 Once the man had finally left, he followed him until they reached a quiet alley. He pulled the knife from his coat pocket, ready to strike. He stabbed the man’s back and twisted the knife in as far as it would go. However, the man was a bit stronger than he anticipated. It was the first time anyone had bothered to fight back.

His most recent kill had gotten sloppy, and here he was covered in blood on your doorstep in consequence. He never wanted any of the evidence to be tied to you, so he had learned to keep his distance. On this particular occasion however, he didn’t have much of a choice. He had dismembered the body and left it tucked in an alleyway, to be disposed of later. The only evidence remaining was the blood staining his clothes. If someone saw him walking through town in his disorderly state, that would raise questions; questions that could indirectly put you into harms way. Although this wasn’t ideal, it was the only option. -Besides, he had accidentally missed your date, you were probably worried sick over him.

“Yes of course I’m sorry, please follow me” You stammer out grasping his hand and leading him to the bathroom. You weren’t entirely sure of the nature of his bedraggled  state, but you were determined to fix it. You reach under the sink and dig out the first aid kit you kept on hand. 

You reach for the bandages and a dampen a small cloth. You press it against his bloodied nose and place a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“Are you alright” You ask hesitantly. Your mind burned with questions, what had happened to bring him here in such a state?

“It’s nothing I can’t manage I’m sorry to drag you into this.” He replied, remorse seeping into his tone.

“No it’s alright I’m just glad you’re okay.” You responded as you began to bandage the scuffs on his hands. From his demeanor, you gathered he didn’t really want to talk about this, but you couldn’t help but ask.

“What happened Al?”  You questioned. Your shoulders were slumped in his direction while you carefully washed the cuts on his face.

“It’s not important my dear.” He responded with a nonchalant smile.

"Telling my whole life with his words

Killing me softly with his song"

His indifferent attitude did anything but calm you. 

“You can’t show up on my doorstep like this, and not expect me to be concerned for you. Please, just tell me what happened love” You begged. 

“I  had something to take care of. It’s not important” He dismissed you again as you unbuttoned the clasps of his shirt to tend to anything below the surface. Through his bloodied exterior, you couldn’t discern what stemmed from him or another person. 

“Clearly-" you huffed. You examined the small contusions that littered his chest. “Please don’t run from me Al”  Even though his injuries are less severe than you’d thought your lips contorted into a deep frown. “I’m worried about you.” Your e/c eyes bore into his smooth brown ones.

“I just.. got involved with the wrong person y/n, please save your worries for a worthy cause.” He murmured. He attempted to dissuade your worries with another smile, it only multiplied them.

“We should report this to the police Alastor I don’t care who you got involved with they don’t have a right to leave you like this” You urge, your fingers mindlessly trace the edges of each forming bruise.

“Y/n just drop it.” He finally snapped, his voice is intense and almost feral. His shoulders tense up almost as quickly as they release.

“Please”. He softens, pressing a tender kiss against your lips.

"He sang as if he knew me

In all my dark despair"

1930: New Orleans: Your apartment, six months later

Another pressing knock awakens you from your sleep. You didn’t even have it in you to be upset anymore. It had become habitual, he would show up on your doorstep a little before four in the morning speckled in bright red blood; just as he had done every few weeks for the last six months. It wasn’t worth asking for explanation anymore. He would ramble out the same tepid excuses and unconcerned reassurances. 

You opened the door to his typical scarlet splatted clothing. The longer his little escapade expanded, the less injuries he sustained afterwards. It was a double edged sword. You were glad he never walked in branded in bruises or dripping his own blood, but it also made you apprehensive. How was he able to hurt another so easily with no more damage than the occasional scrape on his knuckles? Nothing about the entire affair made sense. You recall the vague details he had mentioned after the first incident. If he truly had been accidentally whisked into the company of the wrong individuals, why didn’t he just leave? He worked in radio, theoretically he could accomplish the same goal in a different location. There wasn’t anything to stop him. You had assured him you would drop everything and go with him if he only asked you to. New Orleans had no reason to hold onto you in his absence. You were a matching set.  

With a small kiss between your drowsy eyes, he walked into your bedroom to shed his dirtied clothes. Upon his return, he flitted about your kitchen collecting the necessary materials to make you both a cup of tea. It was routine at this point. Accompanied by the smooth lull of the radio, you would drink your tea and chat. He was never at a loss for words, and you loved to listen. You didn’t really talk about anything meaningful, just whatever happened to cross his mind.  You sit curled into his arms tea in hand. You couldn’t help but wonder why this was all happening. You wanted him to open up to you. It didn’t matter what the circumstances were. Maybe if he told you, you could find a way to help him out of this

“Al..why don’t we just leave here? I don’t like that you keep showing up like this. I promise I won’t be upset with whatever details it holds…I just want to know that you’re being safe.” You nestle your head into the crook of his neck, as you speak.

“My dear, we have been over this, it is nothing I can’t handle. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it” He smiles down at you and presses another kiss against your forehead. He admired your care, but he feared your judgement too harshly to admit the true details of his actions.

"And then he looked right through me

As if I wasn't there"

“This is the second time this week Alastor. I’ll support you through anything but I deserve to know the details”. You plead, lifting your head to better observe his features. He looked completely and entirely unbothered.

"And he just kept on singing

Singing clear and strong"

"y/n I'm telling you to drop it" His hand cups your cheek.

"No you don't get to tell me that anymore. I'm concerned for you Alastor.” Your voice gets louder as you pull away from his touch.

"I've told you before darling, you needn't worry" He tucks a stray loc of your hair behind your ear. "I promise I would never hide anything from you for longer than I needed to dear.I will always be truthful with you y/n” He pulls your body back into his lap as he speaks.

“ I just can’t tell you yet… It wouldn’t be right to involve you in this.” His voice is indistinct and distant, as his arms wrap around you into a tight hug.

“ I can’t risk you getting hurt, You are my perfection dear” 

Your heart falls from your recollection as your body finally drops to the from the spinning pole. Alastor didn't end up keeping his promise of eventually veracity. How many other things did he simply “not tell you yet”.

"Strumming my pain with his fingers

Singing my life with his words"

You were convenient and gullible, you had loved him too much to even consider that he might have been hurting others and not a victim himself . You lived in the middle of the city, giving him a central location to act from. He hadn’t lied when he said you were perfect.

"Killing me softly with his song

Killing me softly with his song"

It was much deeper than you previously thought. You weren’t just someone he kept around for the occasional favor or entertainment. It was deeper than that. The bloodied clothes and unexplained absences finally made sense.  He would’ve needed to harm a lot of people to hold such an astute amount of power upon his arrival in hell. You were the unknown tool that helped him reach that status. 

"Telling my whole life with his words"

No wonder you ended up in hell. Any sinful actions you may have taken or blood on your hands was nothing in comparison to the amount he spilled with your help. You were nothing more than an accessory to his crimes. You had wasted your life on counterfeit kisses and meaningless utterances of  love. You had wasted your afterlife believing they held some merit.

"Killing me softly with his song"

He didn’t come for you because he didn’t need anything from you. He never actually loved you enough to search for you beyond that. 

The music crescendos into its final note. You take a slight bow as the crowd exploded into a sea of cheers.

“Thank you for being such a darling audience, I’ll be out to speak with you soon” you announce as you blow a kiss in their direction. Val would have to be mad later. You needed to get out of there

As soon you walked off stage, the lively armor of your theatrical persona was thrown aside, leaving nothing to guard your wounded heart. You stumble down the hall towards your dressing room ,a freshly opened bottle of wine in tow. You wanted nothing more than a moment of clear unfeeling peace. Valentino preferred you to mingle after a performance, but you needed to collect yourself and dampen your anger before you had to speak with your untamable fans. Alastor’s appearance had shaken you to your core in ways you weren’t prepared to confront. You didn’t have time to accurately process those emotions so you would settle for a second alone to compartmentalize. By the time you reach the dressing room’s door, the bottle in your hand is nearly empty. You turn the knob to reveal to a vase of crimson roses reflected in your mirror and the shadow of his antlers on your face. 

“Why are you here.” You asked pointedly. Your voice held the typical icey air of a frigid hellish morning. You had no intention of letting him stay long enough to propose whatever twisted favor had brought him back to your door.

“It was you that contacted me dearest” He ignored the frostbite forming on his finger tips from your cold shoulder- His frankly untrue statement struck more than a few of your nerves. 

“If I had, don’t you think I would have done it sooner?” You seethed with aggravation. Alastor hadn’t a clue as to why you were so cross with him. Perhaps guilt motivated your responses and he was simply caught in the overtly anguished crossfire. You had always been slightly oversensitive to your effect on him- maybe that was it?

“Now my dear you haven’t been in hell very long, you mustn’t blame yourself for needing a bit of extra time to understand your skillset. I was pleasantly surprised to hear your sweet voice interrupt my usual broadcast- Although, I must say I wasn’t aware you were so interested in continuing show business after death. Had you asked before finding your own way, I could have connected you with a classier establishment" 

“A bit of extra time is the understatement of the hour” you huff under your breath. 

“Most demons take weeks to learn control, you on the other hand managed to do so in a couple of days you really should be proud” He sent you a reassuring smile.

You laugh dryly, confusion overtakes his features and seeps into his smile.

“Oh sure you’re absolutely right! I should be proud it only took a day or so- give or take a few years” The sarcasm radiating from your response would have slit the throat of a lesser demon. This confused Alastor even further. 

“y/n, how long have you been in hell.”Bewilderment etches across his lips, he had never considered the possibility you weren’t another new arrival before then.

“Ten years, eleven next week.” you admit. His eyes grow wide in remorse.

“Dear I am so very sorry I didn’t find you sooner. Between your anonymity and my little leave of absence, we must have just missed each other. I assure you had I known you were here I would have been chasing at your heels.”  Despite his deeply genuine intentions, you perceived his words as nothing more than another manipulative tactic to persuade you into whatever twisted plan he had in store.

“Please- Al, you can cut the act already. To be entirely frank, I don’t need any more of your sweetly worded lies, I know who you’ve always really been now. I’m telling you it’s not going to work anymore- I’m not that stupid.” Your retort was accompanied by the roll of his eyes.

“You left me without a care in the world, and with a child for that matter. It stands to reason your sentiment wouldn’t change, even in hell. I don’t care for whatever old favor you’re trying to call in. I’m not helping you.” Even across the room, the edges of his raven tipped hair practically singed at the weight of your words. For the first time in his hellish existence, his everlasting smile dropped. He didn’t know he was a father. He had died before you had chance to tell him.

“ We had a child?” His voice is weak and raw, entirely devoid of its usual crackle. His eyes hold a deep sadness you had only ever seen in your own reflection. Your posture visibly softens at his sorrowful reaction. The realization hit you: He never got to meet his son. At least you were granted a moment with your baby swaddled in your arms. Alastor hadn't been so lucky. 

“ Yes.. his name is Eugene. He turned 50 last year...He was such a beautiful baby. He had your brown eyes and curly hair. I swear I could almost hear you in his laughter.” The corners of your mouth begin to peak up in response to the remembrance. Despite the short time he had been a part of your life, Eugene was everything you lived for. You endured every sleazy comment and blood splattered old fashioned in the hopes you could see him again. You even went as far to marry the bar’s immoral owner. You suffered a lifetime of abuse and the plight of that man's own children on the half hearted promise you might have been able to regain custody in your newfound stability.

“Did he live a good life?”  He was overtaken with dream-like sun spotted snapshots of you and his son. The hypothetical moments alleviated his guilt slightly. At least in his absence you weren’t entirely alone. Alastor's legs carried him to your side. He wanted nothing more than to wipe the melancholy from your face and offer you comfort. His hand gently outstretched to your shoulder. The silence that overtook the room was hinted in comfort instead of animosity.

“ Yes..he did" you finally respond. 

Your mind wanders to the flower shop he owned downtown and its painted green exterior. The lavender cursive of the sign above it read "Eugene's Fanciful Flowers". He was a complete and total dork, just like his father. The older you got, the more you found yourself walking past it. He had sent you a bouquet of daffodils once. You kept them in the vase next to your bed long after they had begun to wilt and shrivel. You weren't sure how he knew of your existence or even where you lived. He was only 18 months old the last time you had held him in your arms. You weren't really his mother, just a circumstance of his birth. You never had the chance to watch him grow. 

"I just never got to see it” You snap out of your memory inspired daze.

He never got to meet his son because he chose not to. Any remorse you felt was quickly scrapped from your system. You could have watched your son’s mind grow and learned the nuances of his little voice if Alastor had just stayed. That’s all he had to do. You didn’t care if your eventual marriage with him would have crumbled in the process. For all you cared, he could continue his distant nature and whatever wicked deeds he pleased, just as long as he stayed…He made his choice to walk that crestfallen path alone, separating you from him and your son in the process. You shrugged off his soothing hand and turned away, effectively burning a fire flecked wall between the two of you. 

“I had to give him up. The radio show shut down in your absence. I couldn’t support the both of us with what little I made at the bar.” Bitterness seeps into your previously softened voice. You weren’t going to allow yourself to be manipulated by his falsified concern. The mirage of imagined moments you had collected of your son over the years flashed through your mind all at once. You were devastated by the memories you didn’t get the chance to make.

“Y/n.. I am so sorry.” He is nearly frozen in place, shocked by the sudden shift in your demeanor. If you weren’t so angry, the pathetic broken string of words would have shattered your desolate heart.

“ You can stop pretend to care Alastor. You had no issue leaving us then- What do you really want from me? Just get it over with so I can go back to forgetting you exist.”  The short horns peaking out from your hair nearly doubled in size. You were growing frustrated with his half assed excuses and blatant lies. In that moment, you didn’t care if he disappeared entirely. The deserted lovesick island you had so often found yourself stuck on burned to the ground in the back of your mind. 

“Why would I, an overlord, want something from a weaker demon such as yourself. I don’t know who placed that foolish notion into your head, but I assure you, I don’t want anything from you” Anguish accented the pungent inflection of each word. Alastor was growing tired with your antics he didn’t want anything from you other than your forgiveness. He had apologized for the first time in decades, and meant it. Why couldn’t you just accept that? Your resentful resolve exasperated him to no end.

“ I just wanted to see you again, I thought you might like the same, evidently I was wrong.” His typical smile pressed into an uncharacteristic sharp line.

“Will you please just stop?” Your voice raised far more than a few decibels. He couldn’t take the hint, and you were not sober enough to keep reiterating it.

“Darling it has been agony sitting around waiting for you here, only to find out you’re cavorting around with Valentino. Leaving you wasn’t my fault, you can’t blame me for something I didn’t wish to do. As much as I wish to I can’t control my circumstances. I’ve already apologized I don’t know what else you want me to do."  He would gladly do anything you asked to mend the bridges you had set ablaze in your unreasonable fury. He hadn’t meant to die, it just sort of happened. Were you really blame him for his untimely demise?

“Didn’t wish to do? How stupid do you think I am?” You scoffed.

“The only thing I want you to do is leave.” Your voice wavered but the sentiment was strong. He could almost see the fighting spirit that traced your form. Alastor couldn’t help but laugh. He had done nothing but answer your call, and you had the audacity to reject his answer. If you wanted to fight, he would fight with you. If nothing else, it kept you talking to him.

“Naturally, because you are just so much happier leashed to Valentino and spinning around that pole” He taunted, his scornful sneer seeping into his cadence.

"Believe me I'd rather be anywhere else-" You snapped. He had added fuel to the fire and the weight of its introduction flooded you with spite.

“Don’t pretend that you’re any different from him Alastor. You are two sides of the same coin- except unlike you, Valentino actually owns my soul. I have to put up with this shit from him. I’m under no obligation to take it from you. I am not a toy for you to pick up and put down whenever you need something to play with- I’m not some tool for you to use whenever decide you need a favor.” 

You didn’t really believe the words coming from you, you just wanted to hurt him the way he hurt you. Evidently it worked a little better than you anticipated. His eyes contorted into the shape of radio dials, the static erupting from his core in tandem. His height over you nearly tripled, as the horns on his head wept out jet black roots that stretched into the ceiling. His voice distorts into a vicious growl.

“You don’t get to stand here and pretend that I am entirely to blame. It isn’t my fault your life went so poorly. Let’s think reasonably for a moment, provided you haven’t completely lost it. You could have made any number of different choices, but you went with the easiest option, just as you always have. As for your current situation, you did the same. Although I regret not finding you sooner, you clearly had the ability to reach out if you truly needed something. You don’t get to blame me because you finally started to regret your careless mistakes. You have no right to be angry with me for your own choices. Look at how pathetic you’ve become y/n.” He grasps your chin, tilting it to meet your eyes in the mirror. 

“I don’t know how I ever managed to love someone stupid enough to waste their soul on nothing more cheap liquor and lust rolled cigarettes.” 

The radio static that had permeated the room just seconds before fizzled out leaving you alone in the silent pit. His antlers returned to their normal size as he observed the void that replaced your sparkling eyes. As soon as he saw the tears welling up within you, he realized what he had said. 

 In actuality, he didn’t mean a word of it. In his time in hell, he had grown too accustomed to uncovering the insecurity of his opponents. In that moment, he had forgotten you really weren’t one. 

He didn’t truly blame you for anything that had happened. How could he?  He knew he was mostly at fault for the more unfortunate aspects of your life. His heart incessantly throbbed with guilt just thinking of what you must have gone through. He hadn’t known what he left you with in such an unforgiving world. If he had, he would have found some way to pluck the bullet from his skull and return home to you. 

As for the quality of your after-life, he knew the blame belonged entirely to Valentino. You had always been strong, but you had never been cruel. To survive in this hellish landscape, you had to be on some level. You probably would have ended up just another lifeless body bloodying up the street if you hadn’t taken the offer. Valentino had taken advantage of that, and Alastor hadn't been there to help you find another solution. Even if you didn’t want his help, he would never forgive himself if he didn’t find a way to break the deal you had made. 

 “Get out.” You didn’t have enough strength for anything more than a whisper.

 His eyes bore into yours as a single tear slipped down your face. He hadn’t noticed the deep scratches that decorated your cheeks or the dark purple bruises that formed under your contour until that moment. They had been hastily covered in concealer and he hadn’t been close enough to notice the jagged indentations until then. The ears perched atop his head began to twitch as his mind sparked with an entirely different form of rage...As soon as he figured out what twisted soul had dared to lay a hand on you, all of hell would hear their screams. 

 His grasp on your chin softens as he traced the edge of each scratch with his free hand.

“Who did this to you” 

“Get out.” You tear your face from his hold. 

“No I’m not leaving you here” he stated, the desperation of his tone rimmed the edges his lanky frame. He took a step towards you and you took a step away. 

“Get the fuck out Alastor. Now.” Your eyes began to glow a familiar pink. 

“Y/n, I didn’t mean t-“

“Just go” you cut him off before he has the chance to put a word in edgewise. You had been through enough. You didn’t need his excuses to confuse you more. Your eyes squeeze shut as the objects in the room began to float. All you wanted was for him to go away. 

“I won’t leave you again” He stood his ground.

“Leave me alone” You were practically screaming at this point. If he couldn’t listen to your request, you would just have to be louder to make him listen. Your voice reverberates throughout the room, effectively shattering both the light bulbs surrounding your mirror and the mirror itself. The residual glass scattered through the space and into your hair. 

To your surprise, he doesn't respond. The remaining floating objects fall to the ground in a piercing clatter. Your eyes shoot open at the sudden noise.

Other than the abundant mess, there was no trace he had ever been there to begin with. Even the roses he had brought for you had dissipated. You stood alone in the glass covered room, thankful he had taken his leave. The swirling overload of emotion made you feel ill. You replayed the conversation a few times in your head, each replay inspired a deeper feeling of regret and a plethora of questions you no longer had the opportunity to ask. 

A/N:

Hey yall thank you sm for the support I adore each and every one of you!!

Also a note about the content revolving around abusive relationships: This is going to be a bit long winded but I feel it's important to be said. The content in this chapter as well as chapter 2 features some pretty awful depictions of abuse. I want to check in and make sure that this isn't coming off as an overly done cliche or a cheap plot device to further the story. In no way is that my intention. I know that I am a very small writing page but it's important to me that I dont accidentally wind down the same path a lot of larger entertainment companies follow. I've drawn from the experiences of my friends who have gone through similar things as well as my own to try and prevent that. However I am also aware my writing style is a bit..dramatic? If you find that it is coming across negatively, and if you feel comfortable, don't hesitate to message me normally or anonymously. I will gladly listen to anything you have to say!!

[jackiepackiee]

“May I have this dance?”

Chuuya x reader

(ft. The Flags)

Warnings - none

Type - Fluff

Word Count - 798

A song for you by Donny Hathaway. The slow jazz filled every inch of the old world pool hall, seducing the ears of every resident that found themselves inside. There were only seven, but that's how it always was. Every other night, when no missions were to be had. Albatross, drinking some fruit-based cocktail while teasing Chuuya. The latter gritting his teeth at his friend, although any passersby would think he hates him. Iceman enjoyed the music, as well as Doc as he both sipped on some heavy whisky. Pianoman and Lippmann were in a very intense game of pool, tied the entire run. Then, you. Changing the record to some more up beat jazz.

“We should dance! Doesn’t that sound fun?” You had always been rather energetic with a bit of alcohol in your system. It’s not like this place had a limit or carded anyone.

Lippmann looked up at you, a bit surprised. “Dance? Since when did you dance?”

“Since forever! Come on~ I love dancing, it’s only natural.” She explained.

On the other end of the hall Albatross teased Chuuya’s hair, before whispering into his ear.

“Go dance with her, you know you wanna~”

You didn’t realize this teasing, thinking Chuuya’s red cheeks were only from some overly expensive wine. Little did you know he hadn’t had a sip all night.

“No way! Anyways she’s talking to Lippmann, I don’t wanna bother her.” Chuuya said, pushing away Albatross. Not enough to hurt him of course.

Lippmann was having the same idea, no way he’d pass the opportunity up to play matchmaker.

“Very well then. Hmm, I’m not sure… you shouldn’t dance with Doc, wouldn’t wanna knock over his IV.”

Pianoman joined in, putting his pool stick down.

“And not Iceman, he’s a whole lot bigger than you with all that muscle.”

Pianoman said, easily concealing his playfulness.

Doc leaned into the trio of you, Lippmann, and Pianoman.

“And not Albatross, I’d bet he has two left feet.”

You.. you were not understanding what this was leading to. But still giggled at Doc’s little joke. Luckily Albatross couldn’t hear.

“Well, then who? You, Lippmann?”

Did she have to be so dense?

“No! I mean uh- I’m not very good at dancing, and neither is Pianoman!” Lippmann tried to turn it on Chuuya.

“But Pianoman, I’ve seen you dance on a mission before?” She spoke, curious as to why it was said he couldn’t dance. He shook his head, lying for a good cause.

Albatross walked over before she could ask any more questions, Chuuya in tow.

“You know, Chuuya could dance with you! Isn’t that right?”

She perked up, happy someone would dance with her. She smiled, and he melted. How could he ever say no to her?

“Sure… will you dance with me?”

He asked, gentlemanly as he always was with her.

Iceman, quiet as he always was, was still listening. He picked a record, it was from New Orleans. Jazzy and fast pace, probably from the 1930’s. He knew she loved this style. Swing dancing… Chuuya was in for an absolute treat, as well as the rest of the flags. Since they knew damn well he’d be faking it till he made it.

“Of course I’ll dance with you! Let’s go!”

She took his gloved hand in hers. It was surprisingly soft leather, though the real hand would be much nicer to hold and feel. Even if neither would admit it.

“You ready, Chuu?” God, his heart would give out if she called him that nickname ever again. But, he wouldn’t complain. What a lovely way to die that would be. Damn it, he got distracted.

“Chuuya? Ready?”

She was so patient.

“Yeah, I’m ready. Umm.. what do I do?”

She laughed, not in a mean way. It was cute, that’s what he thought anyway.

“Sorry sorry.. we can start with the basics. Okay, hands in mine.”

He took her hands. Unbeknownst to her, the flags gave him grins and thumbs up. “Your nails… They are painted red. That’s my favorite color, they’re lovely.”

“It is? Well isn’t that perfect, and thank you.”

She started to sway to the music. He followed suit, thanking his past self for learning how to keep rhythm.

“Can I spin you?”

She agreed, spinning while holding his hand. She was smiling, eyes beaming while looking into his. Was she?… she had her doubts before, but she definitely loved him.

Iceman, with his knowledge of records, changed the music to play a slower song. Meaning Chuuya could hold her close. He did not need five wingmen.

He pulled her closer by the waist.

“The music slowed down, so we should too.”

“Since when did you know about dance?~”

He made a faux annoyed expression.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Part two?

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Drawn to you | Pt. 4

(A/N) This one's a bit shorter, but I hope you like it! Also, thank you so much for 2500 Followers!!! Aaaahhhh I love all of you so much!

Pairing: Alastor x bunny demon!Reader (no Y/N)

Warnings: flashback to life on earth, sexism

Synopsis: Your life back on Earth.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Earth - 1920

“You’re late.”

You raised your head to look into the glaring eyes of your boss. The fat, old man regarded you with a scowl before turning around and stomping towards his office.

“I-I’m sorry Sir. The bus was full, so I had to wait for the next one, and-”

He turned to face you again, his face red with anger.

“I don’t care! You are paid to be here on time! The next time you’re late, I’ll cut it from your paycheck, understood?”

You frantically nodded while holding your breath. Pointing out that you were actually twenty minutes early and just ten minutes late from your usual thirty minutes early, would just enrage the man even more.

With another huff, the man walked into his office and slammed the door, making you jump at the sudden, loud noise. You sighed and quietly made your way to your workstation, where you sat up for the day. You smiled at your colleagues that passed and led pleasant small talk with the ones that stopped for a chat. But the whole day went by without you seeing your favorite person even once.

Not that he had to stop by or anything, but he sometimes did and those were always the best moments of the day. He held such a passion for this job, it always infected you, made you hold on to the dream of one day being a host yourself.

But in your heart, you knew that that dream was foolish. A woman? A radio host? That would never happen. If you were lucky, maybe you could become the secretary, but your voice would never be aired live. At least not in this century.

With a sigh, you got to work. You quickly wrote up the weather report for the day, before handing it over to your boss, who would give the final go. After that you filed through letters and parcels, delivering them to where they needed to go.

You were basically done with your day’s work and it wasn’t even time for lunch. So, you decided to work on your dream some more. Whenever you had free time, you’d type out what you would do if you were the host. Corny jokes and funny advertisements. You’d make a list of the songs you’d play and what you’d be talking about.

Your shoulders slumped as you finished your dream program, the realization that that would never happen, catching up to you. Sometimes you wondered if playing into the dream made reality harder to bear. You still continued your wishful thinking, lost in a dream where you were calling the shots and where you would yell at fat, old men.

Two hands suddenly covering your eyes pulled you back to reality and a grin took over your lips.

“Guess who?”

You chuckled, trying to think of a witty response.

“Oh, Samantha, is that you?”

The laugh that escaped the man behind you made your heart race and butterflies erupt in your belly.

“Would you prefer it being Samantha?”

You shook your head with a smile and the hands lowered until they rested on your shoulders. With a wide grin, you spun in your chair, to come face to face with your favorite person.

“Now, how is my favorite lady doing?”

You rolled your eyes as he guided your right hand to his lips, before pressing a chaste kiss to your knuckles.

“Ah, you know, same old, same old. Got my work done within two hours, wrote down my concept for the day and it’s not even lunchtime, got yelled at by boss-man once again,-”

The usually smiling host’s expression hardened when you mentioned the fat, old man. He glared in the direction of his office. If looks could kill, that man would be dead.

“Someone ought to take care of that bastard.”

With wide eyes, you raised your hands against the man’s mouth to shush him.

“You can’t just say stuff like that. You’ll get fired.”

He turned back to you with his signature smile.

“If I were to get fired for protecting you, it would be worth it.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words and quickly lowered your head, a coy smile playing on your lips. Your reaction caused the man to chuckle, before carefully ruffling through your hair. A complaint crossed your lips at his action and he stopped with a playful laugh, before helping you to fix your hair.

“So, what’s on your agenda today?”

You grabbed the pieces of paper and went through the different points you had written up, ending on the big story you’d talk about, were you in any kind of position to.

“Congress is supposed to vote on the 19th amendment in a few days. I really hope it gets signed.”

The man nodded thoughtfully, taking notes in his head. He was about to say something when his name was called from the other end of the office space.

“Gotta run, will you tune in tonight?”

He was already walking away, still facing you.

“I always do.”

He grinned, before turning around and running to where he was being summoned, leaving you with a soft smile and a racing heart.

By the time you had to clock out, you were sure you were dying of boredom. It was bad enough that you had considered asking for more work, but thankfully you made it through the day without. You quickly put on your gloves and hat, before you left the radio station and made your way home.

As soon as you entered your apartment, you hurried to the old radio in your kitchen and turned it on, just in time to hear him introducing himself.

“Welcome ladies and gentlemen to the evening show. I’m your host, as usual, Alastor!”

Hell - now

“Why don’t you remember me?”

@impulsivethoughtsat2am @dasimp777 @fanficwriter5 @wonderlandangelsposts

Please consider reblogging and following me! It helps a lot!

Hazbin Hotel - Masterlist

Master-Masterlist

[not-goldy]

He broke up with Jennie cause he realized Jimin is the one he wants to be more then Friends with. DUH!

Lets see.

(1) Siren

(2) Red String

(3) Friendship that becomes Eternal

(4) Apple/Forbidden Fruit

So basically.

(1) Jimin? Everyone calls Jimin a siren, Tae even said Jimin reminded him of a mermaid & Tae himself has said many times Jimin is desirable and alluring and also Desire is written with a red string.

(2) Vmin wore matching red string bracelets.

(3) Vmin Soulmates/Them singing in Friends Part 1 about it being for eternity.

(4) Tae saying Jimin's eyes were Temptation (Forbidden fruit) during Blood Sweat and Tears video or when Tae was asked what he'd do in his non idol life and he said he'd be an apple seller and told Jimin to come and do it with him. Take your pick.

Anyways its all jokes & wild funny theories so don't take any of it too seriously. Seems Vmin shippers are winning over Taennie shippers right now. Come on Taennie's step it up. I also love how bored everyone is and spouting out off the wall shit. And how one group of shippers can't connect shit to their ship no matter how hard they try. Whomp Whomp sorry Tkk, better luck next time. You have to sit this one out AGAIN like every other time. I know they seething cause they never been able to connect a Tae song to JK. lol

Anyways, As a Jikooker I'm good, cause Jikook together right now. I'm just enjoying the conspiracy party.

Here's where I splash water on his and your face to get a grip

JIMIN IS MARRRRRRRIIIIIIIIEEEDDDDDTTTTTT

Baby boy move on.

Don't support Jennie for you but at least that's moving on. Power to you😩

Yall shouldn't stress me and Jungkook out like this🥲

If he were here he'd explain to yall how Vmin are friends Frensh ppl frensh 🤧

Ooooooohhh thank God I thought you were serious there for a sec🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Interesting analysis A for effort I like it

Vminers it's our time to shine 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

Go crazy with the theories 🤭

Personally want him to put out a song to tie everything in neatly regarding his friendship with Jimin with all the enmeshment and roller-coaster emotions involved. Would be nice to bring it all to a climax no? Just a nice letting go kinda song.

Who knows, perhaps it started out as friendship then he'd entertained the possibility of it being more, then he'd moved on as he matured and came to love and understand himself better. Now he's healed found love somewhere else and would always have a special place in his heart reserved for his best friend.

That's a song I'll definitely cry to🤭

But honey it's 2024 we not doing that same old unrequited love story no more free me Tae😭😭😭😭

Also I'm here for the chaos🤣

Jimin explaining to death how Tae is crazy and Jungkook cussing him out all the way from camp🤣

Aaah I miss this drama

I feel alive again

Thanks Anon🤭

NB: like Anon said no one shud take any of this seriously. We are just delulus doing our delulu things

Off to read some vmin fics🙂

[redrobin-detective]

the things we lost to the ice

It didn't quite sink in until Gunter put on the crown and became an Ice... something that it was all over. He was back as himself, with his body and brain and awkward personality, permanently. It didn't feel like last time, like each breath was bringing him closer to his last. Simon was also somehow back in his old favorite suit, with its worn elbows and his glasses clean and unbroken. He even couldn't feel the crown whispering in the back of his mind anymore. It was as GOLB had taken him back to just moments before he'd worn the crown for the first time, intending to tease Betty.

Oh Betty.

"Hey so uh, who are you?" Simon looked up from the rock Marcy had set him on to see Flame Princess staring at him curiously. Right she was... literally made of fire. He knew that, Simon blinked. Wait he did actually, his brain retained lots of facts about Ooo and it's people. It was his or, well, Ice King's personal experiences that felt fuzzy. "Because you came out of the GOLB thing together with Finn but I've never seen you before. Marceline seemed to know you though." She tilted her head and frowned, "Finn told me he was the last human, was that another lie?"

"Get away from him!" He heard Marcy screech as she rocketed over from where she'd been talking to Bubblegum and some other candy people. Her arm wrapped protectively around him, her sharp nails digging into his clothes and her batlike face pressed against his own. Her skin was cold like death. He hated how he tensed with instinctual fear at having a predator so close. This was his Marcy, his precious little girl. She was different than he remembered but she loved him, she wouldn't hurt him. He clenched his fists so they didn't shake.

"Hey Marcy! Don't worry, F.P. is cool!" Finn shouted, galloping over with a big grin on his face. "Oh man, so much just happened but Simon are you back-back, like for realsies? That is so math!" Finn hug tackled him and Marcy.

"Still waiting on an explanation," Flame Princess grumbled.

"So she actually got you free, how joyous," Magic Man -no, Normal Man- said with a small smile but his eyes were sharp. "I suppose the power of GOLB is the only thing strong enough to undo elemental wish magic. Congratulations, Ice King, welcome back to reality."

"Wait Ice King?" Flame Princess gaped and Simon realized that -with the major world ending threat neutralized - they were now the center of attention. It's only just occurring to him that his window to divorce himself completely from Ice King and pretend he was someone else was about to close forever. Just like the chance to hold Betty in his arms again.

"Yea!" Finn explained, wrenching around to address Flame Princess and gagging Simon by putting him in a headlock. "It's a long story -seriously long, he's like over a thousand years old or something- but Simon put on the crown only he didn't know it was hecka cursed. It possessed him and piloted his body like a meat puppet, turning him into Ice King and made him act all Banaynay."

"It took him a while for him to become Ice King though," Marcy said, shifting Simon slightly out of Finn's grip so she was hugging him from behind with her chin propped on his head. "He rescued me when I little before I was bit by the Vampire King. Simon took care of me after the world ended, he even showed me the basics of playing guitar." She nuzzled him and gave him a gentle squeeze, "I missed you so much, you have no idea."

"I missed you too, Sweet Girl," he murmured back. He'd been here the whole time but at the same time, been very far away. There's hazy memories of this older Marceline, her songs echoing somewhere in his head. Mostly he remembers her frowning over whatever crazy thing Ice King had been doing at the time.

"Whoa, you taught Marcy! I had no idea you were so musical," Finn shouted before looking thoughtful. "Well I guess IK used to play on his drums or his keyboard a lot now that I think about it." He smiled, a goofy teenage smile despite the missing teeth and scars from numerous adventures. "I guess you weren't totally gone."

"It doesn't justify the constant harassment and kidnapping of innocent Princesses," Bubblegum said primly.

"Bonnibel," Marcy growled.

"But I'm willing to forgive past grievances so long as it doesn't happen again. You are, after all, practically a new man." Bubblegum noted. "I presume it was born out of subconscious desire to find Betty again, the crown fixating on that desperation for love. Of course, Betty is gone now so it's all rather a moot point, isn't it?"

"Bonnie, seriously, now is not the time," Marcy warned. The fresh reminder of Betty's sacrifice, the permanence of it hit him again. Insanity had overwhelmed his depression and loneliness and loss of identity, redirected it. Now nothing could distract him from that sucking chest wound of loss threatening to consume him.

"Uhhh hey Simon!" Finn interrupted with a manic smile. "Can't wait to learn all about human stuff from you! I bet you can even teach the Islanders a thing or two, pretty sure they've forgotten what it's like to be human. But you know all sorts of humany stuff I bet. It's gonna be awesome learning where I come from." Good lord, was someone going to love and support this beautiful child or was it up to him again?

Finn reached out with his remaining hand and grabbed one of Simon's own, lacing them together. Simon jolted and looked at their conjoined hands before spreading their palms and fingers together. His pinky finger only met empty air.

"Oh my god Finn, have you only ever had four fingers?" He balked. Ice King's memories weren't that reliable, he couldn't actually recall.

"Don't you mean glob and uh yeah, that's the normal amount I think," Finn shrugged, squinting at Simon's pinky. "What do you need that extra one for anyhow? Does it have special powers or something?"

"Yeah, I always thought that was weird," Jake said from somewhere behind Finn. "Marcy has an extra one too, figured it was just how things were before the Mushroom War."

"It was actually a nuclear holocaust that wiped out pretty much all life on earth and mutated the rest beyond recognition but sure," Simon said with a hysterical edge in his voice as the weight of his situation pressed down on him.

He was a thousand years removed from the world he knew, a world that now only existed as ruins or twisted, funhouse mirror replicas. Simon was totally alone, the only person who remembered the way things were before. Marcy was here but she'd made the journey through time naturally, she'd adapted and likely forgotten. He no longer had magic and, without it, he wouldn't be allowed into Wizard City. The Ice Kingdom was now Gunter's and the humans of the future have changed in ways he could hardly recognize.

Sometimes the past is a different country, sometimes it's a black hole taking everything down with it.

"Hey dude, you've probably gotta use the bathroom like super bad," Jake said as he broke through the crowd. He gently manhandled Simon away from the well meaning arms of people who were both dear loved ones and strangers all at once. "You haven't whizzed as yourself in like a million years, we better find a place to get your man biz done."

"Wait but-" Marcy said reaching out but Bubblegum grabbed her hand and pulled her away. The rest of the onlookers slowly backed off, going back to the post fight cleanup. As Jake led him away, he made brief eye contact with Normal Man who'd once been a magical god and was now just a man. Simon would probably have out and out collapsed if Jake wasn't steadying him.

"Look, we're just gonna walk away and when we round this corner where no one can see, I'll leave you alone to do whatever you need to do." Jake soothed. "I can hold off Marcy and Finn for maybe 10 minutes, 12 tops. You focus on your breathing and if you gotta hurl, just do it, holding it in jacks you all up." He lowered Simon to the ground once they were out of sight. Simon immediately went into the fetal position.

"You're good at this," Simon noted even as the stress and panic and misery washed over him. He pushed his glasses up into his hair and buried his face in his knees. Jake rubbed his shoulders, it felt good, grounding.

"I've talked Finn through a lot of these episodes before, the kid's been through a lot. You have that in common. You and Finn might have some different physical traits but you're both human. You just had a lot of junk thrown at you so you don't need to figure it all out now. That's what the rest of your life is for. I'll keep the worry squad off your back as long as I can. Take it easy, Simon but, either way, you gotta take it."

Jake went back to the crowd leaving only his wisdom. He was right, no matter how miserable or overjoyed he was over the circumstances, this is the way the dice fell. He had no choice but to take it, to use Betty's sacrifice on his behalf to do whatever he wanted with his remaining time. And he was mortal now, time affected him once more so he had to learn quick.

He had no idea what he would do or even who this new Simon Petrikov, PhD student and aspiring antiquarian was. Just being able to think coherently and regulate his words and actions was a strange miracle he hadn't fully digested yet. Things would be okay, he would be happy once more but, for now, he thought it was okay to sit here in the dirt and cry for everything he'd lost to the ice.

[pedriscroquettes]

I know your requests are currently closed but would it be possible to get a Pablo Torre birthday sex with his birthday being in just over a week? 💜

spin the bottle – pablo torre

summary: your relationship with your brothers teammate takes a turn during his birthday party.

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, and a very derailed alejandro lol.

listened to zorra by bad gyal.

a/n: it’s no longer pablo’s birthday but just pretend it is.

the small yet luxurious apartment got warmer every second. your brother, pedri, apparently knew half of the city and had invited all of them to the surprise birthday party alejandro had planned. you had yet to see the birthday boy and hoped you wouldn’t run into him because of the complicated feelings he induced in you. he always came over to hang out with the rest of the barça youngsters in your shared apartment with both your brothers and he somehow always managed to fluster you but annoy you at the same time.

you quickly downed the punch in your hand trying to think about anything else. a party was supposed to make you have fun and if you just wondered about a boy the whole time you wouldn’t enjoy it. you also can’t help but shake your head at the fourth quevedo song in a row instantly recognizing that pedri had taken over with his playlist. you’re too busy trying to guess which one of the canarian’s songs is blasting through the speakers that you don’t notice the figure walking towards you.

“ey! chiquita! vamos a jugar botella, queréis jugar con nosotros?” balde shows off the huge bottle in his hand. (hey! little girl! we’re gonna play spin the bottle, wanna play with us?)

“we’re only one year apart alejandro stop calling me that.” you look down at the bottle debating on what to say next. “who’s playing? depending on who’s playing i’m in.”

“just because our age gap is small doesn’t change the fact that you’re younger so your nickname will stay.” he defends the awful nickname he gave you when pedri introduced you. “let’s see gavi’s playing, the two girls he’s talking to, pablo is playi-”

“okay i’m in.” you blurt out.

“no shame in your game i see.” he teases you knowing that pablo and you don’t necessarily see each other eye to eye with some things.

“shut up, i just wanna see him flustered. if i get him i get to humiliate him.” you reason.

the circle of people was quite big and you were quite surprised to see the plethora of players who had agreed to play. more than half of them were from the second team and you quickly realized that alejandro had used you as a pawn. the only girls involved were you, some of the girls the guys were talking to, and random girls you were sure he had just met.

“okay everybody pay attention so everyone knows how spin the bottle works, hopefully. since i’m in charge i’m going to change things up. whoever you land on you have to go inside of the guest room for seven minutes. if you have-”

“so seven minutes in heaven basically?” estanis interrupts him.

“congratulations estanis you’ve figured out the game.” the room erupted into laughs. “there will be two rounds because we can’t have siblings in the same round and also so everyone can get a chance.”

you instantly look around the room noticing your brother missing meaning he’d be playing in the next round. for once you considered alejandro smart as it would be humiliating if you had ended up landing on your own brother.

“pablo the birthday boy.” alejandro pauses at the suddenly claps and chants for the now twenty year old before proceeding. “you get to go first.”

you barely notice the way your hands fist at the fact that he gets to spin first. although your worry quickly washes away because the chance that he would land on you first try we’re slim. you almost curse at the sweet time he’s taking on spinning the bottle. cheers and chants once again filled the room and you quickly looked away not wanting to see the bottle slow down but quickly look back once you realize the cheering has diminished.

“guess it’s your lucky day.” pablo smirks.

“more like the worst day of my life.” you murmur trying to keep it to yourself but you realized you’ve failed when the people next to you laugh.

you quickly stand up wanting to get the seven minutes over with already. you’re almost halfway across the room when you realized pablo hasn’t moved an inch. you almost scoff at the way he didn’t get the memo.

“well? are you coming or not?” you raise your voice making sure he hears you loud and clear.

“oh. oh! yes. my bad.” he quickly follows your steps.

“looks like the birthday boy has been wiped off his feet.” alejandro jokes and the laughter the follows slowly fades out the closer you get to the guest room.

as soon as pablo and you are inside you close the door and lock it knowing one of the guys or more will be waiting outside trying to listen in.

“happy birthday.” you look around the room realizing that pablo also used it to store all his old stuff. his pictures from childhood almost make you proud.

“thank you.” he replies and soon the room is filled with nothing but silence.

“are y’all going to kiss or what? there’s only six minutes left! don’t be pussy’s.” alejandro yells from the other side of the door.

“should i? or do you want t-” you don’t let him finish as your lips are on his before he can blink.

he stays still for a couple of seconds before he takes control of the situation and before you know it you’re straddling him. you can’t help but be mesmerized at the way he treats your body gently and with a lot of care. you’re almost out of breathe so you pull apart and smirk at the way he instantly whines at the loss of contact. the brunette tries to lean in for another kiss but you quickly lean away, teasing him.

“pretty sure we’ve already completed the game. don’t see the need for anymore kisses.” you flash your proud smile at him.

“so you’re really going to tease me on my special day?” he whines.

“pablo you literally got me a pack of gum and a twenty five dollar gift card for my birthday and you want me to complete your sexual fantasies? okay.” you argue.

“well i couldn’t just fuck you out of the blue could i? especially since you hated me although doesn’t seem like you hate me now.” he smirked.

“oh i still hate you you’re just actually attractive this year.” you reply back.

“i’m attractive?” pablo takes you by surprise as he bucks his hips up into you.

“joder, pablo.” you can’t help but moan at the sudden friction against your core. (fuck, pablo.)

“you’ve got to be quiet bonita. you don’t want alejandro hearing you and telling your brother do you?” he teases you as his movements accelerate. (beautiful)

“fuck you.” you mutter.

“oh, i really hope you do.” he mocks you.

your mind is so hazy you don’t realize how close you’ve placed your hands to his zipper nor the way his hands creep up your legs. the mini dress you decided to wear managed to give him easy access to your core. it’s not until his fingers are dangerously close to your entrance that you decide to kiss him back as if to say that you wanted this. you didn’t waste any time placing your hand over his and guiding two of his digits inside of you.

as you moan at the sudden intrusion pablo can’t help but stare at you in awe. the way your body moves against his fingers lock him in a trance. you’re currently the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. he loves the way you clench around his fingers and the breathy moans you release while you beg him for more. he also admires the whine you let out as soon as he stops his movements.

“joder, porque paraste?” you dig your fingers into his shoulders in reaction to the loss of pleasure. (fuck, why’d you stop?)

“porque por mucho que me gustaría verte correrte sobre mis dedos, prefiero que lo hagas sobre mi polla.” he simply states as he moves your panties to the side. (because as much as i’d like to see you cum all over my fingers, i’d rather you do it all over my dick.)

you don’t waste a single second helping him out of his pants. he wants to tease you for how eager you are but decides against it as he doesn’t want to risk you leaving. he’s once again in a trance by the way you spit into your hand with such ease and make your way to his shaft. the groans he lets out as you combine your spit with his precum is enough to send you into overdrive. the seven minutes are long forgotten and all you want now is to feel him inside of you.

he seems to think the same as he quickly aligns himself to your entrance. he practically moans at the sight. seeing you desperate for him turns him on in ways he can’t even describe. he almost cums as soon as you place your hand on his shaft to guide him inside of you. although his maximum ecstasy is reached once he’s filled you up to the hilt. he stays still for a second allowing you to get used to his size.

as soon as he notices that you’re all adjusted he gently grabs your hips bring them up before bringing them back down. soon enough you’re bouncing on his cock with him guiding you. the pleasure immediately consumes you, it’s so heavy that your curses soon become gibberish. his hand in your hair also doesn’t help and soon you bury your head in his neck practically begging him to speed up.

“have i fucked you stupid?” he teases and you can practically imagine the smirk he has plastered on his face.

“i just don’t wanna give you the satisfaction of mo- oh” he slams harder into you on purpose. “moaning your name.”

“i think just being inside you satisfies me.” he replies.

“just shut up and fuck me.” you’re frustrated.

and so he does. he changes his angle to reach you in places you didn’t know where possible. soon you’re both moaning messes and his thrusts get rougher. the way you clench him so tightly is enough to motivate him to give you a mind blowing orgasm. he brings two of his fingers to your mouth before pausing.

“suck.” he demands.

you don’t know why you open up your mouth so easily maybe it’s because you know he’ll stop again if you don’t do what he says. he fills your mouth with his fingers and you suck. you make sure to coat them with your spit and the brunette swears that he almost cums at the angelic sight. as soon as he think it’s enough he drags his fingers to your core and immediately starts circling your clit.

“fuck pablo i’m gonna cum.” is all you can muster at the increase of pleasure he’s giving you.

“cum for me then.”

and you do. you coat his dick with your juices as you reach your high and you could’ve sworn you’d seen stars. but you wouldn’t tell him you’d already boosted his ego enough. it doesn’t take long for him to reach his high right after. he quickly pulls out, the fear of becoming a young dad consuming him, before releasing on your leg. both of your sweaty foreheads seem to find one another and for a couple of minutes you’re just staring into his brown eyes.

you leave that night telling him that it won’t happen again that you can’t risk it. but it’s all a lie because it happens again the next week and the week after that and soon enough he’s on his knees for your birthday. he has managed to consume your every thought and you his. you don’t even question yourself wearing his jersey to games or the way you instantly get on your knees when he expresses that he’s frustrated. pablo torre has taken over your life and you don’t mind one bit.

[novemberwasgrey]

Xavier Thorpe-centric headcanons (featuring Wenvier)

Because I ship them and I stand with Percy Hynes White. I will probably post more of these later. Team Xavier to the end of times.

‌Xavier’s middle name is David.

‌He was born on August 28th. It’s the only summer day Wednesday tolerates.

He lives in New York.

‌He has a difficult relationship with his father, that we know of. He always hopes it gets better and for his dad to reach out and not prioritize his work for once. He always ends up disappointed. Wednesday hates Vincent Thorpe’s guts.

His mother passed away when he was eleven. He rarely talks about it but he loved his mother deeply and she was amazing. She was an artist like him.

‌Xavier has a green eyed black cat named Shado. It was his mom's and he kept it despite his father's attempts to get rid of it. He is quite the old jaded cat and usually hisses at everyone who isn't Xavier. That's until he meets Wednesday: he's basically all over her purring when she's at Xavier's. She'd like to chase him away when he's too clingy sometimes and she's trying to read but she can't resist those green eyes. And we all know how much Wednesday must love green eyes.

‌Obviously, Xavier loves Arctic Monkeys and Chase Atlantic. His favourite song is Do Me a Favour by Arctic Monkeys.

‌He's very good with kids. Which Wednesday once thought could be handy in the future. The minute she realized what she was thinking, she wanted to hit her head against the wall for becoming like her mother.

(TW: eating disorder/body image) ‌Xavier struggles with eating sometimes because he used to be overweight. He didn’t start running out of pleasure: his father forced him to lose the weight because "having a fat son wouldn't be good for his image". Again, Wednesday's still waiting for Xavier's permission to curse his father.

‌Xavier is a huge fan of The Hunger Games series, he read the books and watched the movies at least ten times. It's partly why he chose to practice archery. Definitely has a celebrity crush on Jennifer Lawrence. He made Wednesday watch all the movies with him and she actually didn't hate them.

His second obsession is Star Wars. His ringtone is Cantina Band. Wednesday hates Star Wars.

‌Xavier is this annoying person who has multiple hidden talents. Obviously, he's a very good painter, but he's also a great piano player (his mom taught him), he's an okay dancer, and he's not that bad at singing even though he mainly does in the shower. But since he's modest or thinks it's not that great, people usually randomly find out about it. Ajax always acts falsely jealous like "Dude you can do literally everything, I hate you", but he's also the first one to exclaim "oh you need someone who can do that? Xavier's like so good, you should ask him!"

Wednesday was impressed (although she was careful not to show it at first) when she found out he could play the piano and they've definitely both played piano and cello together.

Speaking of Ajax, him and Xavier are basically brothers and we all know it. They met when they arrived at Nevermore the same year when they were twelve and they've been inseparable ever since.

I have a very clear vision of Xavier barging in Ajax's room after he and Wednesday get together like "it's official, bitch!" and they're both gloating like two tall idiots, so proud that they're dating the two hot best friends from Ophelia Hall

Wenvier headcanons here

[trigunwritings]

Hello hell-o!!, so i wanna request can i get Gn! Reader with base on a song hire the song

Gn! Reader who is an angel who fall from the heaven , disguise her self as a human, Bit by bit they try and try to help people , but somewhat felling bit sad and you know.. Kinda hate himself , eventually they meet humanoid typhoon it self, and so bit by bit spent time with him, The reader wanted to show her true self ( like wings and Halo things ect) and yet they did but reader said " I'm look bad aren't i? " But Ofc you know Vash Like shut the reader up and tell that they are Not bad ect ect

SO YE IT'S MIGHT BE SAD A LIL BUT IN THE END READER HAPPY WOOO!!!

One step placed in front of the one before it, the motion even and repeating. It’s almost a mantra of physical movement, over and over again with no seeming end in sight—both metaphorical as much as physical. Onward. That’s all you can think. Onward and onward.

How long? The hot days and cold nights have begun to blur together.

How far? You’ve lost count of the steps since last meeting the eyes of another living thing.

The feeling of sand beneath your feet has gone numb, faded into the background of pure existence just like everything else; the sharp wind, the cold darkness, the air burning beneath a merciless sun. Things like hunger, sleep, thirst—they are nothing, but you are not without a physical sense that feels lacking and empty.

But it’s for the best, you tell yourself.

A lie, you tell yourself.

-

It’s never a good idea to stay in one place too long. If you do, people begin to get curious; from there, curiosity turns into suspicion, then to realization, and then accusation. It’s the same cycle every. single. time. Once one person knows the origin of their town’s newfound ‘miracles’ then its only a matter of hours to get out before they inevitably try to corner you with desperate pleas and agonizing voices of hope.

Please heal my son, he’s been sick for so long-

-bless our crops so that they will finally grow, or else we’ll starve-

-you can’t leave without helping us!

Help us.

You have to.

Each voice is a stone you drag along behind you, tied inexplicably to your memories no matter how hard you want to forget them. Sometimes they are just desperate and think they must convince you to part with some of your strength in order to heal their sick, their tired, their hungry. Other times—most other times—they think you are selfish and evil. To be capable of helping people and not doing so, they say, is that not a form of evil itself?

And that is why you roam. Why you can’t afford to stay without bringing even more harm and fear to the very people you want to help. Why you are afraid to let anyone see you. Know you.

Beg you.

Curse you.

It’s for the best, you tell yourself.

-

Your existence spans so many years that its hard to pull specific moments apart from the relative gray that haunts you. Moments of fleeting joy interspersed with empty desert, sand beneath your feet and wind howling in your ears.

But is shattered by the companionship of one singular man, and his name is Vash.

At first you’re wary of him, hoping to leave his presence and escape to your self-enforced isolation every moment that you can. And yet somehow he sticks to you without fail, as if he has the same levels of unending stamina and inhuman lack of basic needs—but he is so… bright? Joyful? Having grown so used to the cold, dark auras of people in need, Vash’s soul is like staring directly into the sun.

You think that he will wander off on his own path eventually, but he doesn’t—nor does he ask any questions when most would.

The random feathers strewn about camp in the morning after bedding down for the night (it felt nice to sleep again).

Your constant supply of food somehow procured from deep within the old bag on your shoulders (when did it taste so good?).

He did not even question when, in the quiet moments beneath the dark night sky, you held up your cupped hands so that he could sip from the water that miraculously came into existence from nothing at all. And as you sipped in kind, it tasted so cool and refreshing against your dry throat.

When had it been so quenching?

-

“Vash.”

The sound of his name stopped the man mid-step. He turns, eyes glancing back towards you curiously but saying nothing in reply.

He has to know. Why won’t he say something about it? Why isn’t he calling you selfish?

“I’m not human,” you say, the words like needles against your tongue.

He’s quiet for a moment before a soft smile pulls at his lips.

“I know.”

“This is not what I really look like.”

“I know.”

You stare at him for an unknown amount of time before your gaze moves down towards the sand shifting around your feet. How many grains of sand was there on this planet? How many people had succumbed to its deadly embrace? Starvation when you could have created food, illness when you could have healed them. How many people have died in which you could have saved?

A hand suddenly comes down upon your shoulder, jolting you from your thoughts so viscerally that when you look back up to see Vash standing in front of you, there must be tears in your eyes from how much they burn.

“Having the power to help one person doesn’t obligate you to help everyone.”

Hypocrite, but an honest one.

He brings his hands up to cup either side of your face. Is that empathy in his eyes? An understanding? Whatever emotion lies within them, it is interlaced with a pain you are all too familiar with. The pain of regret and guilt.

But his touch is soft and warm. New and unfamiliar. In that very moment, you suddenly realize that there’s not a singular moment within the gray sea of existence that you remember someone touching you like this. It’s nice.

And that’s when your wings shimmer into material existence. Feathers swirl in the air around you both, as numerous and white as forgotten bones strewn across the desert. With but a simple motion they expand outward, so wide that they cast a dark shadow across Vash’s entire body from the suns behind you. Two, four… six? Maybe more, countable and uncountable in ways a human’s eyes can’t always perceive.

The golden ring of light above your head sits like a crown, though it feels many times heavier. Neither a physical or material shape, it hums and wavers in and out of existence as the sunlight scatters through the air. You can even feel the marks start taking shape on your skin—words of a language so old that it spoke the universe into existence.

And Vash doesn’t look away from you.

He watches, smile never fading, holding your face in his palms even when he must feel the weight of a thousand mountains on his shoulders in your presence. Even as the air is hard to breathe, even when your very whispers are like thunder, he looks at you with such fondness.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs. “So beautiful.”

And for the first time since the dawn of time itself, you truly believed him.

[wonder-queen-123]

Bakugo’s Starshine Katsuki Bakugo x Depressed Self Harming Suicidal Reader

Y/n’s family was as good as you can get for the first 16-17 years of her life, but something unexpected happened just a few days before Sports Festival was held.

Y/n had just gotten home and was excited to tell her parents that she had been accepted into UA, however, things didn’t go as planned.

As Y/n was looking for her parents, she overheard them arguing over something, and walked closer to try and figure out what they were arguing about.

“…I never even wanted a kid in the first place, nevertheless a fucking daughter!” Her mom screamed, surprising her. “I should’ve gotten rid of her before she was even born! And besides, she’s not even going to a regular high school, Damien! She’s going to a school meant for heroes!” “Would you calm down, Sherry? Y/n could be coming home any minute, and I’d hate for her to find out about this.” Damien said, trying to calm Sherry down.

As the two of them continued arguing, Y/n didn’t want to hear anymore of it, so she ran upstairs and locked herself in her room for the rest of the day.

The next day at school definitely could’ve gone better. For starters, instead of having a smile on her face like normal, she had a stoic expression on her face. “Hey Y/n, is everything…?” Bakugo started, noticing her walk past him.

Btw, Bakugo and Deku had known Y/n since they were kids, but Bakugo was closer to her than Deku. (Also Bakugo has a few nicknames for her; idiot, dumbass, {those two are a given} and very rarely Star/Starshine)

During the entire Sports Festival Y/n did her best to not let her parents argument from last night bother her too much…but just before the calvary battle started, Bakugo noticed her and walked over.

It took him a few minutes to realize that it looked like Y/n had cried earlier because her eyes were still a little red and puffy. Before he could even ask, the calvary battle started, and barely left any time to talk.

[Also later on when both the Dekusquad and Bakusquad are “formed”, Y/n is going to be part of both, but more so the Bakusquad]

[{(these are how Bakugo is going to know that something is wrong, and all of these are going to be from the present time at 16 years old during her time at UA)}]

* Singing Baku’s Song (forward March and here we go; members of the Agency Bakugo)

* Going Silent (basically giving everyone…including the ash blonde himself…the silent treatment)

* Crying hysterically/hugging Bakugo randomly

* Smiling ONLY at Bakugo

* Calling Bakugo by his FIRST name {instead of one of his nicknames; Katsu, Kats, Kaachan, Big Brother Kats(u), and Blondie}

* Also calling Deku by his FULL name {like Bakugo…instead of nicknames; Izu, Zuku, Big Brother Zuku, Deku, and Freckles}

* And lastly, leaving single worded notes around ONLY for Bakugo [{with just his FIRST name}]

* Star-shaped Necklace

Once the calvary battle ended, Bakugo noticed that Y/n had looked worse than before it started. He walked over to her, and tapped her shoulder.

She quickly turned around, and smiled as brightly as she could, but Bakugo knew that it wasn’t genuine. “I know you’re forcing that smile, Dumbass. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing, Kastu. Don’t worry about it; I’m fine. Just a little tired. That’s all.” Y/n lied. Bakugo looked at her in disbelief, and tried again. She said she was fine, and walked past him.

While off to the side, Y/n kept thinking about what she heard her mom say. ‘“…I never even wanted a kid in the first place, nevertheless a fucking daughter! I should’ve gotten rid of her before she was even born!”

Why would my mom say that? She never wanted me? She was going to have an abortion just to get rid of me before I was even born? Wait. Does Dad feel the same way? Does Dad even love me? It obviously doesn’t seem like Mom does.

She started silently crying to herself, and walked even further, while wiping her eyes. Why? Why doesn’t Mom love me? Was the only thing on Y/n’s mind.

Once she got home, she didn’t bother greeting her parents, but instead went straight to her room, and cried for hours.

Soon Bakugo called her to check on her. “Wh-what’s up, Blasty? What are you calling me for?” Y/n sniffled. Bakugo grunted in surprise. “Hey, Idiot, why are you crying? What happened? Did someone say something to you today? I noticed you were crying earlier as well.”

“It’s nothing, Kats. Can we please talk about something else? Please?” “Shut the hell up, Damien! You know how I feel about this!” Y/n’s mom screamed. She quickly put her phone on mute, and listened to what her parents were arguing about now.

“I’ve had to deal with a fucking kid that I didn’t even want for the past 16 years, and not to mention, she’s not even in a normal high school!”

As the arguing continued, Y/n couldn’t stand to hear it, so she hung up the phone with Bakugo, and left the house through her window. Once outside, she ran as far and as fast as her feet could carry her, and only stopped when she got to the park.

She panted breathlessly, and screamed. She walked over to the nearest bench, and sat down. She laid down, and silently cried herself to sleep.

While she was sleeping, Bakugo tried calling her, but she wasn’t picking up. Dammit, you stupid nerd! At least I know where you’re at. I swear, if she’s not there…

As Bakugo left his house, and started making his way to the park, Y/n woke up only briefly, before deciding to sleep under the bench.

She curled herself into a ball, and continued crying silently. Once Bakugo got there, he didn’t see her anywhere. Where are you at, you stupid idiot?

As he was looking around, Y/n was tugging on her sleeves, gripping them tightly. Once Bakugo thought he saw her, he walked over, and saw her laying under the bench.

He bent down, and gently touched her leg, and realized she was shaking. It took him a moment to realize that she was actually crying.

He gently shook her awake, and watched as she crawled out. She immediately hugged him, and wasn’t planning on letting go.

“You good, stupid idiot?” Bakugo asked, slowly hugging her back. She nodded slightly, and continued crying into his chest. “Something is obviously wrong, so will you just tell me? I want to-“ “Parents fighting.” She interrupted.

Bakugo pulled her away from him, and turned her face to look at him. “That’s all? My parents fight and argue as well. They-“ Y/n just cried harder into the ash blonde’s chest, and hugged him tighter.

“It’s obviously more than just your parents fighting. Will you talk to me? Please?” Y/n wiped her tears, and told the ash blonde that she would see him at school tomorrow.

He was just about to stop her, when Kirishima called him. “What do you want, Shitty Hair?”

As they were talking, Y/n started making her way back home, and called her dad. Surprisingly, it went to voicemail. She didn’t bother leaving a message, and decided that she would just talk to her dad at home.

Once she got home, she climbed up the side of her house, and got back inside through the window. She didn’t want to see her mom, so she quietly made her way out of her room, and downstairs.

“Dad? You here?” She said, looking for him. “He went out for a little bit.” Her mom said, peering around the corner. “What do you need?” Y/n jumped back in surprise, and said that she was looking for Dad.

“Dad’s not here right now. Tell me what you need him for, and I’ll answer for him.” “It’s fine, I’ll just wait until he comes back. It’s not that big of a deal.” Sherry grabbed Y/n’s wrist, and asked why she wanted her dad so badly.

“I just need to ask him something. And it doesn’t concern you.” For the first time ever, Y/n got slapped across the face. “Go to your room, and stay there until your dad gets home. I’ll have him deal with you.”

As Y/n made her way back to her room, she mumbled something under her breath. “What was that?” “Nothing.”

Once back in her room, Y/n laid on her bed, and repeated herself. “I said ‘good’. I like Dad better than you anyway. And wait until he hears about what you just did to me. He’s not going to be happy.”

After about 30 minutes, Damien came back, and saw Sherry waiting in the living room. “You’re slut, I mean, daughter was looking for you.” “Sherry, not this again. We constantly go back and forth with this. She’s not anything you call her; she’s our daughter, and should be treated as such.”

As soon as Y/n heard glass shatter, she had a feeling that her dad was home, but that another argument had broken out. “Sherry! Stop talking like that! If Y/n is still here, she could probably hear us. And I’m not having her listen to this.”

“Damien, don’t give me that tongue! You know as much as I do that it’s true! So what if she hears us? She’s not old enough to live on her own yet, and in case you have forgotten, she’s the reason why we started arguing like this in the first place! How many times do I have to remind you; I never wanted her to begin with. The only reason I didn’t get rid of her is because at the time I was a coward.”

Wait…does this mean that Dad didn’t and doesn’t want me either??

“Sherry, I will not have you bad mouth our daughter anymore! You’ve been verbally and emotionally abusing her since the age of seven! I’m not doing this with you anymore. I’m taking Y/n, and we’re leaving.” Sherry started throwing everything she could grab at Damien, and the latter kept dodging.

“Damien, why do you care about a fucking whore like the one upstairs?! She’s pathetic! She can’t even defend herself!”

By this point, Y/n was silently crying, while listening to the argument escalate. She tossed her backpack out the window, and once again, climbed out and down.

She closed the window, and made sure that it was loud enough for both her parents to hear. Just as she was about to leave, she heard her dad’s voice. “Look what you’ve done now, Sherry Jane Adams.”

Y/n ran all the way to Deku’s house, and knocked on the door. “Y/n?” Deku said, surprised, opening the door. “Hey, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“Izuku Midoriya.” She sobbed, throwing herself against his chest. He stepped away from the door, and let her inside. “Calm down, Y/n. Breathe. Take a few deep breaths, and calm down.” As Deku tried comforting her the best he could, Inko walked in the room, and asked what happened.

“I don’t know, Mom. She just got here, and hasn’t said anything. I’m trying to calm her down, but she’s hysterical.” Inko walked into the kitchen, and got Y/n some water and some snacks.

After a while, Y/n finally started calming down, and explained what happened. “Oh my.” Inko said, putting her hand over her mouth in horror. “And she slapped me for the first time as well.” Y/n added, starting to tear up again.

Hearing this infuriated Deku. “Mom, can you call Katsuki for me?” “No Katsuki!!” Y/n shrieked. “Katsu…get…mad.” Deku looked at his mom, and shrugged his shoulders.

“Izuku honey, take Y/n to the guest room, and help her get settled, would you? Im going to let her dad know that she’ll be staying here for the night.” Deku took Y/n to the guest room, and asked if she needed anything. “No thanks, Freckles. Im alright. Just thinking about what Mom said.” Deku hugged her tightly, and told her that she could stay with him and his mom for as long as she wanted to.

This made Y/n smile a little bit, and hugged Deku back. “Wait right here. Im getting you some ice for your face. I’ll be right back.” Y/n laid on the bed, and curled herself into a ball, and began crying again. About five minutes later, Deku came back, and handed the ice to her.

She smiled through her tears, and thanked him. The rest of the day quickly turned to night, and Y/n couldn’t stop thinking about the next day at school, specifically how Bakugo would react if he saw the bruise on her face.

Without realizing it, Y/n ended up falling asleep, and completely forgot that she had her uniform still on. Izuku carefully took her shoes off for her, and set them by the nightstand.

He then lifted the blanket from under her, and covered her up. “You rest up, Puppy. I’m just going downstairs with my mom, and I’m only a call, or in this case, a yell away.” He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, left the room, and cracked the door.

“Okay, talk to you later, Mr. Martinez. I won’t say anything about it. Izuku is in the guest room with her, or was, he just walked into the kitchen. Anyways, yeah. I’ll be sure to tell her when she wakes up.” Just before Inko got off the phone, Izuku looked at her, and asked if Y/n’s dad was aware of what happened.

Inko shook her head, and quickly told him, what his wife did to Y/n for the first time. “What?!” He bellowed, not believing what he just heard. “I’ll call you back later, Ms. Midoriya. Thank you for telling me.” After getting off the phone, Inko had a feeling that things were getting worse between Y/n’s parents.

A few hours had passed, and a loud thud was heard from Y/n’s room. “Ow. That hurt.” She said, as Deku opened the door. “You alright, Coffee Bean? What happened?” Y/n sat up, and was holding the back of her head. “Hey, Freckles. Yeah, I’m fine, just fell off the bed.” She chuckled lightly.

“Come downstairs, Mom is making dinner. Also, it looks like the slap bruise has gotten better. That ice must’ve worked.” She nodded, and said that while the slap bruise didn’t look as bad as it did, she probably had a giant knot on the back of her head.

“Come on, Coffee Bean. You must be starving. I didn’t even see you eat lunch today.” Deku said, as he helped her up. The two of them walked downstairs, and were met with the smell of dinner once they entered the kitchen.

“Oh, you’re finally awake, Y/n. Go take a seat, and I’ll bring the dinner to the table. Izuku, do you mind getting the rolls over on the counter for me?”

As the three of them sat down and started eating, it was only now that Inko had realized how much the swelling of the slap bruise had gone down. She smiled softly, and looked towards Izuku.

After dinner, Y/n went back to her room, and changed into one of Deku’s oversized shirts, and a pair of shorts. Deku walked in just as she finished changing, and almost saw her changing. “What’s up, Zuku?” She asked, sitting on the bed.

“I was just coming to check on you, Coffee Bean. Does that bruise still hurt at all? I can get more ice if it does.” “It’s fine, Freckles. Don’t worry about me, I’m fine.”

‘I wish I had aborted her, Damien! Or given her up for adoption! Why can’t you fucking understand that?!’

Y/n wiped the single tear away, and texted her mom telling her to check who she just sent that message to. ‘Why? I sent it to your father! And how do you know what I sent to him?’

‘Maybe because you sent it to ME instead! Next time check who’s contact you’re on, before sending messages…so you don’t end up sending them to the wrong person.’

‘Damn Bitch! I know who I sent that message to, you probably just have your dad’s phone with you. Why did you even tell him about the slap? It’s not that big of a deal. You can handle a little slap, can’t you?’

Y/n seethed quietly, and gritted her teeth. ‘Not a big deal?! Are you fucking kidding me?! You slapped me so damn hard that it left a bruise the size of a hard boiled egg! Not to mention, the fact that you slapped me just because I said I wanted to talk to Dad about something! And I heard what you called me when he got home; a fucking slut. Why don’t you love me anymore?’

‘You want to know why? You really want to know why? It’s because you ruined my life, Slutty Bitch!’

She threw her phone across the room, and laid down, grabbing a pillow, and held it against her face, and screamed into it. “Coffee Bean, are you alright?” Deku asked, reaching out to place a comforting hand on her knee.

“Izuku Midoriya, can you do me a favor? A HUGE favor.” He looked at her with an eyebrow curiously raised, and asked what the favor was. Completely removing the pillow away from her face, she looked at him sadly, tears pricking the corner of her eyes.

“I’ll actually ask you tomorrow. After class. For now, just know that I love you, Izuku Midoriya.” Hearing the tone of her voice become so dull and soft suddenly worried Izuku, but he knew it would be futile to ask what she was saying.

With a worried look, he slowly got off the bed, and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. Making his way back to his own room, he flopped down onto his bed, and stared at the ceiling in worry and confusion.

When he woke up, he heard faint singing coming from down the hall, and wondered what was going on. The closer he got to the noise, the louder and more clear it became. “🎶Forward march and here we go; members of the Agency Bakugo.🎶” he heard coming from the other side of Y/n’s door.

He tried opening the door, but realized it was locked. “C-Coffee Bean? A-are you alright in there? You haven’t sang that song before at all, unless you were teasing Kaachan. What’s going on?” Deku asked as he knocked on her door.

“🎶Forward march, and here we go; members of the Agency Bakugo.🎶” was the only response he got. Once he heard the door unlock, he twisted the door open, and saw Y/n sitting on her bed, having almost no expression on her face. “Morning.” Was all she said, before getting up, and walking out of the room.

As Deku watched her walk around the house, he knew something had obviously happened last night, because usually Y/n would be smiling in the mornings, and actually talking to him, or at least acknowledging him.

Her behavior wasn’t much better when they got to school, because everyone that tried talking to her just ended up getting ignored, even the ash blonde himself.

“Hey Explosion. How are y-wait a minute. Come here.” Deku just realized that Y/n didn’t put on any makeup like she usually does, and he also realized that Bakugo most likely just saw the bruise on her face.

“What happened, Explosion? Why do you have a bruise on your face?” She just looked at him with an annoyed expression, and he took a step back. “Deku, get over here for a minute. I wanna know, do you know what’s going on with her?”

“No, I don’t, Kaachan. After she came to my house last night, she threw herself into my arms, after saying my full name. Every time she said my name last night, it was my full name. She didn’t say any of my nicknames, or even my actual name this morning. She literally just said the word ‘morning’, before giving me the silent treatment the whole way here; although, she was singing your song from when we were kids.”

Bakugo turned to look at her, and noticed she wasn’t even trying to fight back, or pull away. “The hell?” He said, quietly. “Let me go, Katsuki.” He grunted in surprise, because she almost never called him by his first name.

“Not until you tell me what’s going on with you. This isn’t how you normally act, so what’s up?” “Let go, Katsuki Bakugo.” Her tone was cold, even more so than Todoroki’s. Bakugo heard the venom laced in her voice, and knew she was serious.

Kirishima soon walked over, and asked what was going on. The minute Bakugo loosened his grip, Y/n walked off, purposefully bumping into the redhead. “Geez, what’s wrong with her? She’s never like this. I mean, she would usually apologize if she bumped into someone, but it seemed like this time it was on purpose.” Kirishima said, rubbing his shoulder.

“Kiri, Blasty, Midoriya, come on, we’re going to be late for class! Hurry up!” Kaminari called out, noticing the blank look on Y/n’s face. “Hey, Sparks. How are y-“ he was suddenly cut off by Y/n punching him in the face, nearly breaking his nose.

“Ow! What was that for, Sparks? You never swing your fists at me, unless we’re training, and even then you never go for the face, or head.” She raised her fist again, and was about to punch him again, until Sero stopped her with his tape. She turned her gaze to look at him, and noticed his face go from smiling to one of fear.

Nobody had ever seen this side of Y/n, so they didn’t know what to do. Everyone walked inside the school, trying to keep their distance from Y/n the best they could, but it wasn’t easy.

“Bakubro, what’s going on? Why’s my gemstone acting so weird? This isn’t how she usually is.” “I don’t know, Shitty Hair. Let me try and talk to her later. Deku said this morning she was singing my song from when we were kids, and she usually only does it to tease me, so her doing it out of the blue like this is a little strange.”

“Everyone listen up, today we are going to be testing your quirks against various ‘villains’. In other words, you will be paired up to test your quirks against dummies and robots that me and a few other teachers have set up. Go change into your hero costumes, and meet me at the training grounds.”

As everyone got up to get changed, Bakugo noticed the look in Y/n’s eyes, and had a bad feeling about it. “Oi, Raccoon Eyes.” He said, catching Mina’s attention. “Keep your distance from Y/n, but also keep an eye on her if you can. I don’t know what’s going on with her, but something is definitely wrong. Tell the other girls the same thing.”

Before training even started, Y/n had walked over to one of the buildings, and punched it so hard that almost all the windows on the first two floors shattered.

Everyone gasped in surprise, and looked behind them. Aizawa used his quirk on her, but realized that even with her quirk gone, she was still destroying the windows of the building like it was nothing.

He gulped nervously, and used his capture scarf to restrict her movements. She quickly turned around, and began glaring daggers at her teacher.

Without realizing what he was doing, Kaminari began walking over towards her, and couldn’t even get one word out before getting backhanded so hard that he got sent ten feet away, and nearly had a rock fall on him. “Gemstone, what’s going on? That’s the second time you hit Kaminari today, and training hasn’t even started yet.”

She turned her gaze away from her classmates, and walked to the side, pulling her teachers scarf off her. She began fidgeting with the collar of her hero costume, and still had her moms words echoing in her mind.

She got up after about 5 minutes, and walked over to her teacher. She whispered indistinctly, to where Jiro couldn’t even hear what was said. Mr. Aizawa gave Y/n a nod, and said to see him after class.

She nodded back, and walked over to the bench. It was only now that Bakugo noticed that she was wearing a necklace, but couldn’t tell which one, until he saw the star.

She picked the star up, and squeezed it in her hand, before letting it go again, and sitting with her knees to her chest. She sobbed into her arms, and heard Aizawa pair her classmates up for training.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but she got up after hearing Bakugo and Kirishima’s names. She got up, and walked over to her two classmates. Approaching the ash blonde from behind, he almost backhanded her, until he felt someone hug him.

He grunted in surprise, and looked down at his chest, and immediately knew who it was. “What is it, you damn Idiot? Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something?” She buried her face in his back, and hugged him tighter.

“Damn, if you hug me any tighter, then you might as well be All Might. That wasn’t cue to actually hug me tighter, Idiot. You trying to suffocate me here?” She softly whispered something in his ear, which made him growl lowly.

“Me and you are having a talk when class is over, got that, Dumbass?” She nodded against his back, and wished him and Kirishima luck.

After they finished, it was Uraraka and Deku’s turn, then Ojiro and her. “Uraraka, do you see anymore villains around? All clear on my end.” “No, but I’m still looking. Deku, on your left!” Deku powered up his quirk, and used a Detroit Smash, and completely obliterated the robot.

“Uraraka, next time try not to overuse your quirk. Midoriya, try aiming your punches more clearly and more accurately. Also, try not to use all your power, or most on three villains. Keep in mind, some villains might have a quirk that can drain energy from other quirk users, so keep that in mind. Both of you pass. Next up is Ojiro and Martinez.”

As both of them got in front of Aizawa, he noticed Y/n seemed to calm down a little bit, but still had that same look in her eyes. “Erasure, hold up a minute. I’ve gotta ask my Explosion something real quick.” Bakugo grabbed her wrist gently, and pulled her to the side.

“Is that all she said? Or did she say anything else? You don’t have to tell me right now if you don’t want to, but just let me know when class is over. Please. You’re my little Explosion, and I want to be here for you whenever I can.” She nodded, and gave a soft smile. She looked to the side, then back at the ash blonde.

“Understood.” He wished her luck, as she began walking back towards her teacher. “I’m not going to ask what that was about because frankly, it’s none of my business, but I will say this. I do want to know why you’ve been so aggressive and moody today. This isnt like you.”

She gave her teacher the same gesture, and then lowered her head slightly, and raised her eyebrows subtly. Aizawa nodded slowly, and looked towards the rest of the class, then back to her. She only gave a slight nod, but Aizawa noticed, and said that she would have to do at least some talking and communicating, just so Ojiro didn’t think she was ignoring him.

She gave a thumbs up, and waited until Aizawa told them they could start.

“Y/n, if I lift you up, do you think you’ll be able to spot any villains?” Ojiro asked looking around, as he picked her up with his tail. She nodded, and activated one of her many quirks. “Two on the left, I wanna say at least three on the right, one in front that has a cannon, and one underground. Walk sideways, and be careful where you step! There’s traps all around here! There’s a land mine about three or four feet in front of you, so be careful. Stick to the wall!”

As Ojiro followed her instructions, she almost missed a second villain that was hiding underground. “Ojiro, set me down, and use your tail as a springboard, and launch yourself in the air to avoid the mine in front of you! Be careful where you land though, because there’s traps everywhere!” As Y/n was helping Ojiro, she didn’t realize that there was a trap in front of her, so one misstep caused her to get stuck.

Ojiro heard her yelp in surprise, and was going to go back, until Y/n told him that he was about to get ambushed. As Ojiro was trying to keep the robots at bay, Y/n activated another quirk, and managed to free herself from the net she was stuck in.

“Ojiro, take cover!” Y/n yelled, as she sent a giant gust of wind past Ojiro, and got a direct hit on the three robots that were ambushing her training partner.

She then flew herself over, and punched the biggest robot so hard, that it exploded with such force, causing her to get sent flying backwards.

She crashed into a building, causing a whole floor of windows to shatter. She groaned in pain, just as she landed, slamming her head against the wall, leaving a hole behind her.

All Ojiro heard was the sound of distant windows breaking, followed by an echoing thump. He winced as he looked behind him, knowing that Y/n had most likely slammed against something. Losing concentration almost caused him to get crushed by the first underground villain that had yet to show itself.

“O..ji..ro, be..hind..you.” He heard faintly in his earpiece. He quickly turned around, and knew he wouldn’t be able to take down the robot without assistance. “Y/n, are you alright? I need backup! I need help.” All he heard on Y/n’s side was ragged breathing, and heavy sighs.

Damn! This is bad, if I dont do something quickly, then I’ll get crushed! Where’s Kirishima when you need him?

Suddenly, Ojiro heard what sounded like water running, but it sounded like a heavy waterfall. “Oh shit.” He said, barely dodging the rushing water.

“And time.” Aizawa said, just as the water overpowered the robot. “Martinez, nice use of your quirks, but next time don’t overdo it to the point where you’re too drained or hurt to move. Ojiro, good thinking picking Martinez up, and asking her to scan the area. Losing your concentration, however is something you both have to work on. Ojiro, while the both of you did well, you both overdid it. You pass, but only barely. That’s it for class today. Good work everyone, and I’m impressed with how much you’ve all improved over time. Next time, we’ll do something we’ve already done, but a little different. Next week is more quirk training, but with us teachers as the villains, and you as the heroes. The only difference this time is that the teachers and students will be teamed up. For example, I might be paired with Jiro, while Tokoyami and Yaoyorozu might be a team.”

As everyone was leaving the training grounds, Ojiro walked over to Y/n, but suddenly got stopped. “Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Ojiro froze in place, unable to move. “Where do you think you’re going, Hero-in-Training?”

Ojiro’s lip quivered as he stood there, feet glued to the floor. “You don’t mind if I take you back to the base with me, now do you?” Y/n stood in the distance, leaning against the wall for support.

“You…leave…him…alone.” She strained, coughing up blood. “He’s…done nothing…to you. If (wheezing) you’re going to take someone, take me.”

Y/n stumbled slightly, finding it harder to stay awake. “I don’t know what your motive is this time, but you’re not getting away, Shigaraki! If you’re after someone, take me away from here!” “Y/n, shut up! You can barely talk as it is! We have to get you to Recovery Girl!”

She shook her head, and continued making her way over to Shigaraki and Ojiro, while stumbling. “Don’t…me. I’m…fine. You….im…por…tant.” “No you are not, Y/n! Oh shit!” Ojiro quickly brushed past Shigaraki, and ran over to Y/n, just as she lost her balance, and fell.

He caught her just in time, and realized she was on the brink of losing consciousness. “Fuck.” He mumbled under his breath, standing up, and carrying Y/n bridal style. “I’m taking you to Recovery Girl, alright? Then I’m letting Mr. Aizawa know about our encounter just now. But until I get you to the nurse, try and stay awake. Please.”

Just as Ojiro started walking away, Shigaraki grabbed him by the tail, but left his pinky dangling. “Let go of me, dude!” Ojiro said, turning around. “Okay, if you insist.” Shigaraki said, as he let Ojiro’s tail go, causing the latter to fall forward.

Luckily Y/n had just enough strength to push Ojiro backwards, to keep him from falling. “Y/n, save your breath! You’re already about to lose consciousness due to you overusing your quirks!”

“Like I said…don’t….me.” Ojiro growled in frustration, because he knew that Y/n needed help, but at the same time, he didn’t want to just let Shigaraki get away.

He quickly ran out of the area, and saw the rest of his classmates heading back inside. Bakugo heard heavy breathing behind him, and turned around. “Explosion?! What the hell happened?”

As Ojiro explained the situation, Bakugo growled so loudly that it echoed throughout the training grounds. “Damn you, Wrinkled Villain! Damn it! Give her to me, and you go catch up with the others.”

Y/n slowly opened her eyes, and looked around the room, realizing she was in Recovery Girls office. “What happened? Where’s Shigaraki?” She tried to speak, but her voice came out as a whisper.

Recovery Girl walked over, and told her that she had been out for the last three days. Y/n pointed to her neck, and tried asking what happened with her voice.

“Well, Bakugo brought you in here, but a student from 1-B had stopped him, and fried your throat.” Y/n knew immediately who would do something like that.

Neito Monoma.

“After you were brought here, I healed you and everything, but the student had grabbed your throat, and burned it so badly that it almost completely destroyed your vocal cords. So, I’m afraid that for at least the next week, you’re going to be a bit of a mute.”

Y/n couldn’t believe what she was hearing. First her parents start arguing about her, then she gets slapped by her mom; gets insulted, almost breaks Denki’s nose, and now this?

Damn, this is just one bad thing after another. And it all started with my mom saying that she didn’t even want me! What the actual shit?

Deku came by Recovery Girl’s office a little while later, and asked how Y/n was doing. “She’s alright, but still needs some rest to completely recover. Her throat was badly burned, so she’s going to be a bit of a mute for at least the next week.”

He walked over to her, and asked her about the favor she wanted to ask him earlier. She reached for her phone, and typed something, then showed it to him. “What do you mean don’t worry about it? What’s going on? You’re never like this, Puppy.”

She handed her phone to him, before telling him to not say anything to Bakugo. Deku hesitantly took the phone, and asked why she handed her phone to him.

“Look…messages.” He didn’t want to go through her phone, but figured that since she was letting him, he was going to snoop, just enough to figure out why she’s been acting weird since yesterday afternoon.

Once he got to her messages, he asked her why she wanted him to look at her messages. “Mom.”

Deku went to her mom’s contact, and scrolled up enough to fully understand what was going on. The very first message he read that got him mad was her mom saying that she should’ve gotten rid of Y/n while she had the chance.

Deku continued reading the messages, but soon found it hard to keep going. He looked up at her, and noticed she was looking to the side. He set her phone down, and sat on the bed with her.

“Puppy/Coffee Bean, why didn’t you tell me earlier? Wait, was that why you were singing Kaachan’s song the other day?” She just nodded, and it soon clicked in Deku’s mind what the favor most likely was.

He only hoped he was wrong though. “If you don’t mind me asking, what was the favor? I know you already said for me not to worry about it, but I want to know.”

“BlackWhip…me…restrain…” Deku’s eyes saddened, but were also filled with anger. “I’ll be right back, Martinez. I’m just going to go find someone.”

Y/n knew instantly who Deku was getting, but didn’t have the mental energy to stop him. “What the hell are you talking about, Deku?! Yeah, she’s been acting weird the last few days, but that doesn’t mean she’s got something happening at home!”

“Katsuki, shut the fuck up, and come with me. I mean it, Katsuki.” Bakugo shut up real quick, because he’s never heard Deku call him anything other than ‘Kaachan’.

Deku didn’t even have to ask, because Y/n nodded, and typed a message to Deku before handing her phone to him. “Alright, Coffee Bean, but we’re talking about this in the dorms. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. I’m not letting you deal with this shit anymore.”

Y/n and Bakugo froze, because neither of them have ever seen this side of Deku before. “Explosion, what the hell’s going on here? I want to know right now.”

After staying with Recovery Girl for another three days, Y/n was free to go back to class, but was told to try and not talk too much until her throat completely healed. She nodded, and thanked her.

Anytime someone tried talking to Y/n, they just got ignored, or got death glares from Y/n. While in class one day, Y/n got another message from her mom, that nearly pushed her over the edge.

‘Hey, Useless, did you tell your dad anything else that happened? I know you like him more than me, and you’d rather live with him, so how would it make you feel if I stopped being your mother, and took your dad with me, and moved? We’d get new identities, and phone numbers, so you couldn’t be in contact with us anymore.’

‘No the fuck you’re not! You can leave if you want to, since you obviously never wanted me in the fucking first place, but you are not taking Dad with you! And you’re right, I DO love Dad more than you! At least he doesn’t insult me left and right, and say that he never wanted me!’

As the argument between Y/n and her mom was quickly escalating, Y/n couldn’t take it anymore, so she ran out of the classroom in tears, and locked herself in the bathroom.

Everyone looked at each other in confusion, but Bakugo and Deku looked at each other in concern. “Ashido, would you and one other girl go check on Y/n for me? Bakugo, can I have a word with you in the hall for a minute?”

Bakugo, Mina, and YaoMomo all got up from their seats, and left the classroom; the two girls went to the bathroom to check on Y/n, while Bakugo was talking with their teacher.

“Y/n, love? Are you okay? What’s going on?” Mina asked, knocking on one of the stalls. “Go away, Mina! I’m not in the mood.” Y/n sobbed, as she continued cutting her wrist. Mina noticed blood drip to the floor, and felt her heart break a little.

“Y/n, talk to me, please. YaoMomo is with me, and we’re both really worried about you.” Y/n took off her necklace Bakugo had given her. She then wiped her eyes, and put her blood stained razor back in her pocket, and rolled her sleeve back down.

She unlocked the door a few minutes later, and walked out of the stall, and over to the sink. She splashed water on her face, and quickly left the bathroom.

Just before reentering the classroom, she tapped Bakugo on the shoulder, and gave him her necklace, before walking away. “I love you, Katsuki Bakugou. Thank you for the necklace, and always being there for me. You and Izuku Midoriya both. I appreciate that.” She said, looking at the ash blonde, while making a heart with her hands.

He, Aizawa, Mina, and YaoMomo all stood there in a daze, and watched her retreating figure get smaller and smaller.

‘I love you.’

Was all Y/n texted to the class group chat, before silencing her phone, as she began making her way to the roof.

👽: ‘Y/n?! What’s that supposed to mean? Talk to me. What’s going on?’

💵💸💰: ‘Y/n, hon, you there? Talk to us. What’s going on? You’re never like this. Please talk to us so we can help you.’

🎶🎧🎸: ‘Rockstar? Hello? Why aren’t you answering us?’

🥦🦸‍♀️🦸: ‘Coffee Bean? What are you doing?’

Pushing the double doors open, Y/n made her way over to the roof, and checked her phone. She went to the class group chat, and began typing.

😀😃: ‘Just as I was about to take my shoes off of the rooftop, there I see a girl with braided hair here before me’

🎶🎧🎸: ‘My Rockstar, what are you doing on the roof? And why’d you take your shoes off? What’s wrong?’

👽: ‘Love, please don’t do anything crazy. Come back to class and we can talk things out. Please!’

🥦🦸‍♀️🦸: ‘Puppy? Is this about the messages I saw? If it is, let’s talk about it. You don’t have to do this!’

🔌⚡️: ‘Sparks, I’m not entirely sure what’s going on here, but I agree with the others. Let’s talk things out. I’m sure we can help you…but for that to happen, we need you to talk to us.’

😀😃: ‘Despite myself, I go and scream "Hey, don't do it, please!"’

👽: ‘Y/n, what are you saying? If the girl you saw was about to jump, and you saved her, then that’s awesome, but that doesn’t change the fact that YOU need to get off the roof. Why are you even up there to begin with? And what roof for that matter?!’

💵💸💰: ‘I agree with Mina. You need to get down, Y/n. And again, why do you even have your shoes off in the first place?’

👟👟: ‘Martinez, please get down. And also, it’s not nice to scream at people.’

😀😃: ‘Whoa, wait a minute, what did I just say? I couldn't care less, either way. To be honest, I was somewhat pissed.’

🎈🎈: ‘Why are you mad, Y/n? And what do you mean you could care less? That not the Y/n we know, you’d never say something like that. You’re one of the most caring people in our class.’

🔌⚡️: ‘And what do you mean what did you just say? You just said that you were on a rooftop, then you said that you told someone not to jump. What’s going on here, Sparks? What are you talking about?’

🥦🦸‍♀️🦸: ‘Puppy, I don’t know what’s going on with you exactly, but if I had to guess, I’d say it’s got something to do with the messages you showed me. I’m not sure what you’re trying to say, or hint at, but I do know that you said you wanted to talk to me and Kaachan about something in the dorms, or anywhere that wasn’t Recovery Girl’s office.’

🐸🪷: ‘Ribbit. Froglet, you know we’re all here for you. So please, tell us what’s going on. Kero. We all want to help in any way we can, but we can’t do anything, if we don’t know anything. You’re scaring me, Lilypad. I don’t want anything happening to you. As a matter of fact, where are you? I’m coming to get you down, Lilypad.’

😀😃: ‘This was an opportunity missed; the girl with braided hair told me her woes; you've probably heard it all before: “I really thought that he might be the one, but then he told me he was done.’

🎶🎧🎸: ‘Wait, is that all that’s going on, my little Rockstar? A break up? And Midoriya, you keep mentioning something about messages you saw. What’s that about, and what messages are you even referring to? The only messages I know about are the ones from Y/n that sound sketchy and alarming.’

🥦🦸‍♀️🦸: ‘Y/n showed me her messages on her phone, and let’s just say that they’re not good. From what I’ve read, it seems like-‘

😀😃: ‘Don’t say anything about it, Midoriya. Please. No one else needs to know. Besides it’s not that important anyway.’

🔌⚡️: ‘Y/n, did you just break character? Doesn’t matter. Will you finally tell us what’s going on?’

👟👟: ‘I’m with Kaminari on this one, Martinez. Besides, you haven’t answered a single question anyone has asked you yet. That’s kinda rude, y’know.’

🐱🐶: ‘Also, what do you mean by opportunity missed? What opportunity are you taking about? And why haven’t we heard anything from Shoji, Bakugo, Sero, Todoroki, Tokoyami, Kirishima, or Ojiro?’

🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛: ‘I’m right here, Koda. Sorry it took so long for me to say anything, but anyways, I’d say the point still stands. What opportunity are you talking about, Darkness? And if this is because of a break up, then, why? I mean I get it, break ups are the worst, but that doesn’t mean you have to go this far or anything.’

🐙🦑: ‘Tokoyami’s right, Y/n. Just because someone broke your heart, doesn’t mean you should just let it consume you, or that you have to do anything drastic like this. Besides, I’m sure you’ll find the one for you sooner or later. Wait, guys, she said the girl with braided hair said that. The line was “the girl with braided hair told me her woes; you’ve probably heard it all before. “‘I really thought that he might be the one, but then he told me he was done.”’’

The others in the group chat didn’t catch that, until Shoji pointed it out. Quick side note: Aoyama isn’t going to be a part of this story, and neither is Sato.

🎶🎧🎸: ‘Why does it matter what the line was? I don’t think it hardly matters, or makes a difference. Y/n, my little Rockstar, why won’t you just talk to us? That’s all we’re asking.’

😀😃: ‘For God's sake, please! Are you serious? I just can't believe that for some stupid reason, you got here before me.’

🔌⚡️: ‘What do you mean before you, Sparks? I mean, I agree that it is a stupid reason, but like I just asked, what do you mean by before you? Wait, don’t tell me you were actually going to…?’

🥦🦸‍♀️🦸: ‘Kaminari, I’m not sure if that’s what she’s hinting at, but let’s just wait and see. If anymore of her texts seem sketchy, then I’ll go get Aizawa, and let him know what’s going on.’

🎶🎧🎸: ‘Midoriya, I think Kaminari has a point here. It is a stupid reason for jumping, if that what she’s thinking about doing, but at the same time, I want to know what she means by before her as well. So, my little Rockstar, what did you mean by that?’

🐙🦑: ‘Guys, she probably didn’t mean it in that kind of way; but it still does seem sketchy. Let’s just wait and see what else she says. If it seems to be getting too sketchy, then I’ll let Aizawa know.’

📼: ‘Should we really wait though? I mean, what if we wait too long, and something ends up happening with Y/n? That could be bad.’

As Sero was texting, Y/n typed the next line, but nobody saw or read it, because they were too busy talking with Sero, and each other.

🎶🎧🎸: ‘Wait guys, hold up. I just saw another message from Y/n. Everyone stop texting for just a minute, otherwise we won’t be able to see the next lines.’

😀😃: ‘Are you upset 'cause you can't have what you wanted? You're lucky that you've never gotten robbed of anything.’

🐸🪷: ‘Guys, I just read the next line. And the messages seem to be getting a little bit more sketchy the more Y/n types. Read the message she just sent, and tell me what you guys think.’

🔥❄️: ‘Snowflake, what do you mean? Did someone rob you?’

👟👟: ‘If someone did, then that’s something you should tell Aizawa about. I’m sure he could help you find whatever it is, and get it back to you.’

💥🧨🔥: ‘Who the hell robbed you, Explosion?! I’ll fucking murder their ass! Tell me who they are!’

🥦🦸‍♀️🦸: ‘Kaachan, calm down. I don’t think it’s that kind of robbed. I could be wrong, but I don’t think I am.’

🪨: ‘If it’s not that kind of robbed, then what else could it be, Midoriya? What kind of robbed are you thinking of?’

🥦🦸‍♀️🦸: ‘I can’t say, Kirishima, but trust me on this. It’s not the kind of robbed you’re thinking of.’

🪨: ‘Tell us, man. It wouldn’t be very manly of you if you didn’t enlighten us about what’s going on.’

🔌⚡️: ‘Yeah, come on, Midoriya. Enlighten us. If you know something we don’t, fill us in. We want to help, but we can’t do that if we don’t know anything.’

💥🧨🔥: ‘TELL US WHAT THE HELL IT IS THAT YOU MEAN, DEKU! IM NOT MESSING AROUND! THIS IS MY EXPLOSION WERE TALKING ABOUT, SO IF YOU KNOW SOMETHING, SPILL THE FUCKING BEANS, AND TELL US!’

🥋: ‘Bakugo, you don’t always have to scream, especially when texting. But, he’s got a point, Midoriya. If you know something that we don’t, then tell us. Don’t keep us in the dark. I thought we were all friends, and if that’s the case, then I don’t think friends should keep things from each other.’

👽: ‘Yeah, tell us, Midoriya. We all want to help.’

💵💸💰: ‘Why are you and Y/n both acting so weird, Midoriya? Before, you were talking just as much as the rest of us, but now, you’ve basically gone silent on us. What’s that about?’

🎈🎈: ‘Come on Deku. We’re not going to stop asking. Besides, Bakugo told me that almost any time you found out something new about someone, you take notes. I guess Y/n is the only exception, huh? Anyways, I’m getting off topic. We’re all curious to know what you’re talking about.’

😀😃: ‘I'm feeling better, thank you for listening; the girl with braided hair then disappeared. Alright, today's the day, or so I thought, just as I took both of my shoes off. There was but a girl, short as can be;’

💥🧨🔥: ‘Shorter than you? They must be a fucking dwarf at that point. And why the hell do you keep taking your damn shoes off? What the hell is wrong with you, idiot? Just keep them on! Especially if you’re outside! You could get a damn infection otherwise, stupid idiot.’

🥦🦸‍♀️🦸: ‘Kaachan! That’s mean, and yeah, I get it; Y/n’s not the tallest in the class, but she’s not a dwarf either! But you do have a bit of a point. Why do you keep taking your shoes off, Coffee Bean? Also, i just remembered that you said you were outside. Why haven’t you came back inside yet?’

Everyone else seemed too busy with messaging each other to pay attention to the messages Y/n was sending now, everyone apart from Bakugo and Deku that is.

😀😃: ‘Despite myself, I go and scream; the petite girl told me her woes; You've probably heard it all before.’

💥🧨🔥: ‘Why the hell are you repeating yourself, you damn idiot? You’ve already said this! Let me guess, next line is going to be another stupid reason. Just hurry up and type the next line, fucking Nerd.’

🥦🦸‍♀️🦸: ‘Kaachan!’

😀😃: ‘Everyone ignores me, everyone steals; I don't fit in with anyone here.’

💥🧨🔥: ‘Let me guess “For God’s sake please! Are you serious? I just can’t believe that for some stupid reason you got here before me?”’

🎶🎧🎸: ‘'Cause even so, you're still loved by everyone at home. There's always dinner waiting on the table, you know.’

😀😃: ‘“Im hungry said the girl as she shed a tear. The girl short as can be then disappeared.’

👽: ‘You saved someone else, Y/n? Good for you! And Jiro, how did you and Bakugo know what she was going to type next?’

🎶🎧🎸: ‘It took me a minute to realize that it’s a song. I’ve heard before when I was younger, but I had forgotten about it. I don’t know how Bakugo knew though.’

💥🧨🔥: ‘It’s because the damn pipsqueak was repeating herself. And if you extras were actually paying attention, then maybe you’d know that!’

Y/n messaged Deku alone, and told him that she actually wasn’t loved by everyone at home.

🥦: ‘What’s that supposed to mean, Coffee Bean?’

😀😃🥲: ‘Do you remember me telling you to look through my messages? Did you see the way my mom texted me? She’s the one who doesn’t love me, and I honestly don’t think she ever did. My dad’s always been the one to take care of me growing up, while my mom usually just sat in the corner barely even acknowledging me. I haven’t told anyone about this, not even Katsuki. Please don’t say anything about this to the rest of the class. I’ll tell them later.’

A few minutes later, they both went back to the group chat, and Y/n continued texting the next set of lyrics.

😀😃: ‘And like that, there was someone every day; I listened to their tale, I made them turn away. And yet there was no one who would do this for me; no way I could let out all this pain.’

🎶🎧🎸: ‘Pain? What kind of pain are you talking about, my little Rockstar? If you’re in pain, then why don’t you go see Recovery Girl?’

💵💸💰: ‘Everyday? What do you mean everyday? Why are you going outside, and taking your shoes off everday? Just like Bakugo said earlier, you can get infections if you do that.’

💥🧨🔥: ‘What the hell do you mean you’re in pain, you damn Nerd? Which one of the idiotic extras hurt you?!’

😀😃: ‘For the very first time, there I see; someone with the same pains as me. Having done this time and time again, she wore a yellow cardigan.’

🎶🎧🎸: ‘Time and time again? And what do you mean for the first time? You still haven’t answered any of our questions about the the pain you said you were in. What’s going on, my little Rockstar? Why won’t you talk to us? And I don’t mean in song lyrics.’

🐸🪷: ‘Wait same pains? Earlier you said there was no way you could let out all your pain. What pain are you talking about, Lilypad? I can go with you to see Recovery Girl, if you want me to.’

👽: ‘Besides, should you even be walking around if you’re in pain? It could make it worse.’

🥦🦸‍♀️🦸: ‘Guys, I got Aizawa! He just joined our group chat.’

😴😴: ‘What’s going on here, Problem Children? I was in the middle of taking a nap. This better be good, or important.’

Everyone: ‘Backscroll, Mr. Aizawa!’

👽: ‘It’s Y/n-Chan! I think she’s thinking about doing something bad!!’

😀😃: ‘"I just wanna stop the scars that grow, every time that I go home; that's why I came up here instead". That's what the girl in the cardigan said.’

😴😴: ‘Martinez, Problem Child, whats going on?! Where are you?! What are you thinking of doing?!!’

🐸🪷: ‘You’re really starting to worry me now, Lilypad. What are you saying? What scars are you talking about? I haven’t seen any scars on you; I never have.’

🥦🦸‍♀️🦸: ‘Y/n, Puppy. Why didn’t you talk to me sooner. I’m so sorry, Coffee Bean. You don’t and didn’t deserve any of that.’

💥🧨🔥: ‘What the hell are you talking about, Deku? She didn’t and doesn’t deserve what?! Also, why the fuck are you apologizing? You didn’t even do anything!’

👽: ‘I’m actually really scared to ask this Y/n, but is your home life okay? Does someone at home hurt you?’

🔌⚡️: ‘Mina! You can’t just ask something like that! Especially out of the blue! My Lightning Bug can handle herself, isn’t that right, Sparks?’

😀😃: ‘Yeah, sure, Kami. Whatever you say.🥲’

🐙🦑: ‘Y/n, please talk to us. We want to help you. We’ve been asking this whole time, but you haven’t said anything, or hardly given a response. And Jiro, what’s the name of this song?’

😴😴: ‘Problem Child, tell me what’s going on! Please! Me, and all of your classmates want to help you!’

🎶🎧🎸: ‘It’s called “My R”, and I believe the “R” stands for “Resolve”. And Shoji is right, Rockstar. You haven’t answered a single question yet. What’s going on? You can talk to us; as a matter of fact, that’s exactly what we want you to do. We want you to talk to us.’

🎈🎈: ‘Why aren’t you responding to us, Y/n? Did we do something to you? I’m sorry if we did.’

📼/🥋: ‘Yeah Y/n. Usually you’re one of the most talkative people in class, but lately, you’ve been uncharacteristically quiet. This isn’t like you. At all. What’s going on? You don’t have to tell us everything, just tell us how we can help you.’

🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛: ‘My Darkness, we all want to help you out, but you’re not doing anything to help us help you. You’re not talking to us.’

🔥❄️: ‘Snowflake, please let us in. Please, don’t keep us in the dark. We’re your friends, and we’re always going to have your back.’

😀😃: ‘Whoa, wait a minute, what did I just say? I couldn't care less, either way; but in the moment I just screamed something that I could not believe; "Hey, don't do it, please!"’

💥🧨🔥: ‘Quit repeating yourself already, you fucking loser! It’s giving me a headache!’

💥🧨🔥 has been removed from the chat by 🥦🦸‍♀️🦸.

👟👟: ‘Why’d you remove Bakugo, Midoriya? I get that he screams everything, even in texts, but was removing him really necessary?’

🥦🦸‍♀️🦸: ‘I’ll talk to Kaachan later, for now, we need to worry about Y/n. I told her that I wouldn’t say anything, but I think you guys should know.’

😀😃: ‘DONT YOU DARE, IZUKU!🤬’

By this point, things were becoming too chaotic in the class group chat, that it stated to overwhelm Y/n and Deku.

😀😃: ‘Ah, what to do? I can't stop this girl, oh this is new; for once, I think I've bitten off more than I can chew. But even so, please just go away, so I can't see your pitiful expression is just too much for me.’

💵💸💰: ‘What do you mean you can’t stop this girl? Did she jump, or are you still trying to talk her out of it?’

🎶🎧🎸: ‘Midoriya, you and Kirishima go run outside, and wait behind the school. Uraraka, you and Tsu take the back of Heights Alliance. Midoriya, text Bakugo and tell him to go with you and Kirishima. Todoroki, you go with Uraraka and Asui!’

As everyone was running to get to where Jiro told them, the rest of the class was wondering what was going on.

😀😃: ‘I guess today is just not my day; she looked away from me and then she disappeared. There's no one here today, I guess it's time; it's just me, myself and I.’

🔌⚡️: ‘Sparks? What do you mean by that? Did you save the girl? And what do you mean by “it’s time”? It’s just you by yourself now? What’s that supposed to mean?’

🎶🎧🎸: ‘Kaminari, everyone that’s still in the group chat, keep texting Y/n! Do NOT let her get off the group chat, or go offline!

😴😴: ‘Ashido, see if you can actually call Martinez. I’m gonna see if I can either meet up with Midoriya, and Kirishima, or with Asui, and Uraraka. Everyone, try and keep Y/n on the phone!’

😀😃: ‘There is no one who can interfere; no one to get in my way here. Taking off my yellow cardigan; watching my braids all come undone. This petite girl, short as can be is gonna jump now and be free. I love you, everyone. Hope you guys enjoyed the song, and our time together.’

😀😃 is offline.

Everyone split up and took either the back of the school, or the back of Heights Alliance, and hoped they weren’t too late.

‘This is the last thing I want to say to you, Mother! Fuck you, and I’m doing you the BIGGEST FAVOR I can. Since you obviously don’t even love me, I hope this makes you happy. Goodbye.’

With that, Y/n tossed her phone behind her, after removing her passcode, and stood on the other side of the railing, and let herself fall.

As she began falling, she looked up at the sky, and smiled as big as she could, finally feeling free from her mom. She had her arms open, and felt the cool breeze against her face, and finally felt at peace.

She felt someone grab her from behind, and wondered who it could’ve been, until she saw blonde spiky hair. Fuck. Out of everyone, why’d he have to be the one to catch me? If he knew how my mom has been treating me, he’d want to kill her. Fuck this shit.

Landing on the ground, Y/n was thrown out of Bakugo’s arms, and skidded down the sidewalk. “What the fuck, you stupid ass Nerd?!? What the hell?!” She heard the sadness in his voice, and looked to the side.

“ANSWER ME, YOU DAMN IDIOT! What the fuck were you thinking!?” “I-“ Bakugo picked her up, and threw her even further down the pathway.

“Why the fuck did you do that?! You’re my Explosion, don’t you understand that, you idiot?! God, how worried were you planning on making me, and the others?!”

“Kaachan! Did you find-Kaachan!” Deku yelled, as he saw what was happening. He ran over, and restrained Bakugo with BlackWhip, and told Kirishima to take care of Y/n.

“Why?! What’s the reasoning behind this?! Why the fuck do you want to die so badly?! What’s so wrong in your life that you feel the need to end it?!?”

“My mom wants me gone.” She muttered, looking at the ground. “She hates me. She always has. She’s never cared about me. She’s been abusing me my whole life; while not physically, emotionally for sure. Dad’s always been good to me, but I don’t think he likes or loves me either. I don’t have anywhere to go, no home to go back to, no family. So, what’s the point in even living anymore? It’s not like anyone actually needs me or wants me. You probably just saved me out of pity, and because Zuku probably told you everything.”

Bakugo growled, and told her to speak up, before he burned the shit out of her. She picked her head up at that, and gave him a soft, sad smile.

“Do it, Katsuki.” She said softly, catching everyone’s attention. “Gemstone, what-?” She looked behind her at Kirishima, and gave him the same smile as Bakugo.

“You know everything, don’t you, Katsuki? I’m sure Izuku told you by now. From the slap, to the messages I showed him.”

Bakugo gave her a confused look, and let himself relax slightly. “What are you talking about, Explosion? The Nerd-Deku-Izuku hasn’t told me anything. What’s going on here, Explosion? Talk to me.”

It was only now that she realized that Deku most likely hadn’t told Bakugo, or anyone anything. “Izu..” she said, softly, before feeling her knees buckle.

Bakugo got out of Deku’s arms, and walked over to his Explosion. He picked her head, and made her look at him.

“My Explosion, my Starshine, please tell me what’s going on. I want to know. I really do.”

She hugged him tightly, and asked him why he even saved her. “Did you not just hear me? I said that you’re my Explosion. And I want to know why you just tried to throw your life away like that.”

[awesomedurraworld]

do you just one day realize that you have tons of ideas and Aus, and half of them- if not 3/4 of them will be forever forgotten?

Like. When I tell you the amount of things that I come up with during one day is... Is unbelievable? Sometimes it is the same plot but different scenarios.

The other week, I was going back to my old chats with my bestie, and I was shocked to find this very old Au that I came up with, ( Papa Royed obviously.) and the fact I drew for it too??

I also Reopned an older Au, called “ Roy Elric.” which, really, Roy in Trisha’s shoes. Does that mean Riza is Ho? No I don't think so. I was inspired by this older fic on Ao3, and kinda doodled for their Au.

Another Au- Tangled. I have only shared this with my bestie, but basically when the “ kingdom dance.” music was trending- which has been my favorite type of music since I watched Tangled which was in 2011 😂 when I heard it again, I realized how much that song ( music.) will fit Fma, and 2 ideas came:

what if Fma had a culture? Like, dances, foods, and Music and clothes?? I started designing Riza’s costume over good 9 months ago, so if you are interested I will love to share

Idea number 2 is basically your classic Fma x Tangled. With Ed as Punzel and Roy as Eugene and Ho as mother gothal. Not that Ed is a prince, but the idea of him being locked and Roy freeing him to show him the world.

There is this other idea, that Roy adopted Ed and Al before they committed the taboo but kept them a secret to protect them?

And the idea of Royai retiring and having Ed and Roy is blind and military comes and Ed learns who his parents are?

Also, I never realized that I have been writing regressed Ed? Like, I never did until I started following Mayliz ❤️ and I was like. “ hold up, this has a name?” and then my bestie pointed it and was like, “ Your Ed always regressed,” and I was like “ oh yeah.” and kinda tempted to write a whole fic with that WITH AL AND ED being regressed

What If the taboo failed BECAUSE Ed isn't Trisha’s biological son?

Like, gah, I didn't even scratch the surface of these ideas. And I want to write after math of Hughes’ death! And OH MY GOD I HAVE THE AU WHERE ROY WAS IN HUGHES’ SHOE!

Okay okay, so instead of Gracia and Elysia, it’s Riza and Ed and Al, but the catch here is that Riza isn't a solider, she is just Roy’s wife, one day when the whole team goes around to fight Envy they find Mrs. Mustang there with her husband’s gloves, KILLING Envy? Like having no shame because he killed her husband and orphaned her kids. This would mean, that Riza is an alchemist too. Roy probably taught her to keep herself and the kids safe just in case

Also, I do want to write a fic where the boys just grief the loss of their dad

😩😩😩 I don't joke when I say this is just a normal day with my brain, haha, I just wished I had more time to draw and write. I am busy currently, but I am hoping and praying that mid of December won't come without me posting something. I want to finish Took my kids? Take my fire now- which, has been on my chest since last year and there is no way we're going to Jan 2024 with this fic unfinished

And yeah I guess this is all have to say today, is there an idea that you liked? What do you think of this haha

[verfound]

MINIFIC: Oct. 23: Day 7: Cats & Bats (MLB, Lukanette, DLM AU)

For @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers October Minific Challenge 2023.

Read on Ao3

To Feel Alive Again: Day 7: Cats & Bats

“…twinkle, twinkle, little bat,” Luka sang despondently, staring at the same water spot on the ceiling that he’d been staring at for a few hours now.  His fingers moved almost listlessly over his guitar, picking out the rudimentary tune he’d learned so many years ago now.  It had probably been the very first song he’d actually learned, back when he was still in diapers and his ma had first placed a guitar in his grubby hands.  It was so deeply ingrained in his bones by this point.  He should be able to play it in his sleep.

…he hadn’t actually touched his guitar in a while, though.  Years.  Not since Mendeleiev had fished him out of the ocean after his dad’s plane had gone down.

He’d never actually thought he’d get to play with the old man.  Jagged had never owned him in life, and Luka had always tried to avoid the livelier circles in death.  It was easier that way, not mingling with the living.  Keeping your connections to that world sparse.  Getting to reap Jagged Stone – posing as his guitarist and playing with him on what would become his last plane ride – had been…surreal.  Definitely unexpected.  A gift he still wasn’t sure he was grateful for, even all these years later.

It had also been the last straw – or string, if you would.

Luka had replaced the strings the saltwater had warped, stuck Claire II in the corner of his room, and hadn’t touched her since.

“How I wonder what you’re at,” he sighed, his fingers stilling on the strings again.  It had been too long.  The willingness to play – the need – was there, but his fingers were so damn stiff.  He’d been at it for a few hours now, ever since he’d come home from…well.  His job, technically.  Because he’d dropped Pip off and gone straight to his reap, and that song that had been teasing at his mind since he’d seen Marinette at that café still hadn’t left him alone.

…it had been teasing him a lot longer than that, if he was honest.  He was just…usually better at ignoring it.  He was usually better at ignoring a lot of things these days.

“Luka Couffaine’s just a big ol’ softie…”

Maybe Marinette was right.  Maybe he was going soft.

It had just been too much today, though, so after a quick shower he had sat down with a notebook and tried to scribble down some notes.  They had been a jumbled, confused mess, though.  Nothing had sounded right, and thinking that was because paper sounded like nothing at all he had gone to retrieve his guitar.  It had been so out of tune, though, and then he’d felt too rusty to produce anything coherent, so he’d just…dropped back on his couch, staring at the ceiling as he ran through basic drills.  Rudimentary songs.

Twinkle, twinkle, little bat, how I wonder what you’re at…

“Oh, Luuuukaaaaa!”

He jumped, nearly dropping his guitar at the sudden pounding on his door.  He glared as the annoying voice called again, still dragging his name out.  Fucking Théo.

In some ways, the guy made him think of his old best friend.  In all the ways that grated on him with not enough of the ways that mattered.

“What the hell do you want?” he groused, rubbing at his eyes as he opened the door.  Théo grinned at him from the other side.  It took Luka a moment to realize he was holding a black cat to his chest: it blended in to his sweater almost completely, save for the white patch on its belly.  “And what the hell are you doing with that?”

“What?” Théo asked, frowning.  “You’re a dog walker.  Can’t I be a cat walker?”

“…that’s not a thing,” Luka said, his eyebrows lifting above where he was pinching at his sinuses.  “That sounds so dumb, Théo.  Who the hell would want a cat walker?”

“You have your side hustles,” Théo scoffed, slapping a yellow post-it against his chest.  Luka’s eyebrow rose as he glanced down at it.  “Let me have mine.  Ladies love cats, I’ll have you know.”

“They love cats,” Luka said, looking at the post-it.  Early morning reap tomorrow – scheduled before breakfast.  Well, at least that cleared up the rest of his day.  “They don’t love you.”

“You wound me, Couffaine,” Théo sniffed.  “And here I am, doing you a favor, making sure you don’t miss your – oi!”

Luka slammed the door in his face, cutting him off.  He turned around and leaned against the door, staring at the post-it.  The address was close to Fred and Marinette’s.  Maybe he could swing by after.  Catch them on the way to breakfast.  Walk with he…them.

“It’s bad manners, Luka!” Théo snapped.  Luka rolled his eyes and thumped his fist against the door.

“Fuck off, Barbot!”

[newtedison]

maze women 2023: belonging

1st person pov, brenda journals about teresa (sfw, 1k) @themazewomen

God, this is stupid. I haven’t written in a journal since I was…what, 11?

A few months ago I found one that had fallen behind my desk drawer. I was so angsty back then, it was ridiculous. I really didn’t have anything to be upset about. I didn’t know how good I had it.

I never kept my old journals long enough to look back on. Any time I tried, I would feel so ashamed and embarrassed of my older self that I would immediately shred it into as many pieces as possible, and then burn it. The cycle went on for years until I eventually stopped journaling altogether. 

I guess I ended up pivoting to songwriting, but that’s never felt quite the same. I still have to focus on getting the words to rhyme, get them to match with the music in the right way.

I always hoped I would be able to write a song about her to tell her everything I feel. But I’ve never managed.

So here I am, journaling again in my 20’s. To what end, I don’t know. I guess I thought that the feelings I had been shoving down into the pits of my stomach started to burn in the acidity and go rotten. I’ve been spitting the poison back up at people, and they’re starting to notice. Her, most of all.

She thinks I hate her. Or that I’m mad at her. She hasn’t said it, but I know she does. I can see it in the way she looks at me. Like I’m a fucking equation she hasn’t quite figured out yet. 

It would help if she had all of the variables. It would help if she knew I’m so in love with her it’s making my whole body come undone.

I shake, sometimes, if I’m around her too much. Isn’t that crazy? Shaking like a fucking chihuahua. Like the 20 year old one my abuela is holding onto for dear life. At least that thing has a reason, it’s ancient and built like a mistake. 

I’m just hanging out with a pretty girl. What’s my excuse?

I don’t know if it’s the adrenaline from liking something too much that I get excited being around it, or if I’m so busy closeting my emotions that they’re batting on the walls of my ribs trying to get out. It’s an energy I can’t shake. I’m constantly tapping my feet or shaking out my hands.

She notices, too, of course she does. She’ll take my hands and hold them tight in hers until I stop. “Too much coffee,” she tells me. “You’re getting the jitters.”

She’s not one to talk. I’ve been with her when she’s working in the lab, I know how much coffee she can go through. Still, if she thinks that’s what’s causing me to lose all the composure I’ve spent my life building, then I’ll take it.

I want to tell her but I don’t. I want to tell her in a way that matters. I want to tell her in a way that feels like it’s not wasting her time.

She’s too smart for me. She’s the smartest person I’ve ever met. Half of the things she says go right over my head but god damn, does she look pretty when she says them. I have to nod like I’m following along just so she doesn’t realize she should be doing basically anything else than talking to me. 

I don’t know why she spends so much time with me. That’s coming from someone who, until recently, was a fairly confident person. And she hasn’t done anything to lower it, and she compliments me more often than necessary. But I feel so unbalanced around her, sometimes. Like we’re not playing the same game.

Does that really matter? It sounds kind of stupid when I write it down like this. She’s a smart person. She values her time. She wouldn’t hang out with me if it didn’t benefit her in some way. 

I hope it benefits her. Lord knows it benefits me. I’ve mentioned the shaking, right? 

I haven’t liked something this much in a long time. I’ve never loved someone like this before. Other times, I’ve had to ask myself: Do I really love this person? Or do I just want to?

It would be easier for me not to love her. It would maybe make more sense. But I’ve never felt more at home with someone before. When she takes my hands to stop me from trembling, it’s like I’m breathing for the first time. She’s made me act in ways I’ve never allowed myself to with anyone else. I think in the past I always stopped myself from loving anyone in a way that mattered. I never let it get past the surface level.

With her, I feel like I’m scraping through the bottom of my chest just to make sure she gets every ounce of me I have left to give. I had been holding out for her without even knowing it. 

I don’t know what to call this. Belonging? I’ve never quite understood that word. We don’t own each other, especially with her not knowing how I feel. I don’t think I would ever want her to belong to me, she’s too amazing to be contained. 

God. She’s so beautiful, I might even let her contain me. That’s how you know it’s bad.

Maybe I do belong with her. Maybe that’s why I’ve felt like a defunct person for all of these years, loving people the way I thought I was supposed to. 

I think that she would let me love her whatever way I wanted to. I don’t know why I know this, but it feels right. 

See, this is why I can’t write her a song. I can’t condense all of this down into three minutes of verses and choruses. My incoherent, late-night journal ramblings probably haven’t conveyed it, either.

If I come up with the solution, I’ll write here again.

I tried to talk to her and my mouth went dry. I forgot every word I’d ever learned. It was a little pathetic. I ended up kissing her instead.

It felt like it worked. It felt like I had said everything right there. She ran her hands through my hair and it felt like a song. She whispered my name, and it belonged to her.

[ashtrayfloors]

—I was getting kinda down on myself because I felt like I’d been really on top of my shit recently but then somehow ran out of money again. So I had to remind myself that being broke doesn’t mean I’m not on top of my shit—it just means we are living in late capitalism, and times are hard. But then I’m not going to let myself stop trying to improve my own/my family’s lives because of it, either. Times are hard but that doesn’t mean I can’t keep looking for more/better work, or that it’s not worth going back to school.

—Saturday evening, P. and I got to go out for a drink. We went to a different bar than the one we usually go to, and had the place to ourselves, so we ended up talking with the bartender. The three of us hit it off immediately. The bartender was a flamingly gay punk dude, and the first thing he said to us was: “You two have the best couple energy I’ve ever witnessed.” He said he could just tell we love each other a lot, and then he commented on the fact that we were even sorta dressed alike. Which I hadn’t realized, but when he said that…we were both wearing Chucks, and jeans, and flannel shirts over old tees. (Love each other so, closer than you know, and all that.) Then we were all talking about our favorite cocktails for a bit, and then Green Day’s “When I Come Around” came on the stereo and me and the bartender were both singing along at the top of our lungs. “I can’t not sing along to this song, you know?” he said, and I said: “Oh my god, same.” And then later somehow the discussion turned to ghosts and he told us the haunted history of the building we were in and some other nearby places, and it was all stuff which I’d never even heard! And I’ve researched that shit! We told him how years ago we went on the downtown ghost tour and it was so boring, we barely even heard any haunted stories, and it turns out that he’s one of the people that now does the ghost tours since the old group folded—and he’s a member of the local paranormal investigation group! He gave us the dates that he’ll specifically be leading the tour this year, so we’re definitely going on one of those dates. Anyway, befriending a gay punk who’s into ghosts and Green Day? 10/10, highly recommended.

—The bar we were in is also a high-end liquor store, and I perused their whiskey selection while we were there, and discovered there’s an Irish whiskey called The Legendary Silkie. As soon as I have enough money where I can justify dropping some on it, I’m going to. Because Irish whiskies are my favorite, and also because I’ve been obsessed with silkie/selkie lore since I was a wee’un.

—Sunday, I basically did jack shit. I was having a sinus issue flare-up, plus it was the first day of my period (which always comes with cramps and exhaustion and a general feeling of yuck), so I stayed in bed half the day. And yes, while I am still hustling my ass off to improve my situation, I have to remind myself it’s okay to have days like that. Especially when I physically need it. When I was younger, I would push myself past my limits, and then I’d wind up super ill for weeks or months, unable to do much of anything. I’m not willing to risk that these days, so when I need a day of rest, I take one, if it’s at all possible.

—Yesterday, I felt a lot better. I did school stuff with the kids, dayjob work + side hustle, and writing/submitting stuff. I also took the kiddos to the library for Maker Monday, and they got to mess around with robots and VR and 3D printers. While at the library, I saw the most beautiful trans woman, and I tried hard not to stare at her like a creep. I managed it—I just smiled at her, she smiled back, and I went on my way. And then in the kids’ play area, I encountered an adorable toddler. He was clearly new to both walking and speaking, and one of the few words he knows is ‘bowl.’ He found a plastic bowl in the play kitchen, and was toddling around the room, presenting it to everyone, saying “bowl!” Which he pronounced like ‘buh!’ So obviously I was super enthusiastic when he showed it to me. “That’s right buddy! That’s a great bowl you’ve got there!” And he grinned his little toothless grin and toddled away to present his ‘buh’ to someone else. Aw. I definitely don’t want any more kids, and in many ways I’m glad my kids are past the toddler stage, but it’s nice to interact with teeny kiddos from time to time.

—Today I felt pretty sucky again, physically. My period yuck has passed, but it was a bad allergy/sinus day. I wasn’t able to take the day off, but I rested as much as possible. I did school stuff with the kids, and then made a cup of tea and took it up to bed, and I worked from bed for a couple hours. After that, I felt well enough to do some other stuff. I packed up some zine orders. And then C. and I did some baking—I had a bunch of peaches left over from a meal we made the other night, so we baked a peach and blackberry galette.

—I’m deep in nostalgia these days, as per usual, but right now it’s mainly for September 2003 and September 2008—The Perpetual Motion Roadshow, and Thee Hobo Love Tour. And how the fuck were those tours 20 and 15 years ago, respectively?!

—Today, I found out that Nick Cave is playing in Milwaukee later this month. There is literally no way I can afford to go, but unlike the Blue Meanies show in July, I didn’t freak out about it. I was bummed for about thirty minutes, and then went: “Eh, so I can’t see Nick Cave in concert right now. Instead, I will sit alone in my room, dressed all in black, drinking tea or wine, and listening to Nick Cave while thinking about a girl I once knew, as god intended.”

—Overall, I’ve been better able to appreciate the small moments of contentment in my life than I was earlier in the summer. Like the fact that the weather is turning autumnal. Like lying in bed drinking tea, or sitting in my backyard drinking coffee. Like watching the birds in my backyard. Like listening to jazz while writing or doing chores. (I’ve been on a big jazz kick lately. This is fairly common for me, this cycle—listen to a ton of punk to the point where I’m almost sick of it, then listen to a ton of jazz.) Like cooking with my kids and reading with my kids.

—Plans for the next week or two include: getting the new CoViD vaccine/booster, home visit with the director for the community program we’re getting D. into, more printing/collating/packing up zine orders, submitting work to more contests and magazines, a field trip with the kiddos to our favorite nearby park/stretch of woods, and performing at 100 Thousand Poets for Change.

[quandaryqueen]

YJ, BTAS Harley Quinn  Again with ex-spouse hero but this time they hear song that was on their wedding so Riddler proposes a dance. While dancing Hero admits that they kinda miss it and so when he goes for the kiss they don't stop him.

Two slow dancers

Edward Nygma X Hero Reader

Hmmm, if I were allowed to assign a song-- I, a basic bitch at heart, will be playing "Come what may" from Moulin Rouge. What song will y'all be dancing to?

💚 Young Justice

It took him all his being to hold his hand out once he heard the familiar notes playing. To be frank, he's been wanting to have an excuse to dance with you this whole evening at this party, he doesn't find any harm in it since you're not parading around as your respective rogue and hero jobs... It just so happens that your the song of your first wedding dance played, when he noticed your face softening with a certain nostalgia and he just happens to be there, the man you had to divorce because of your conflicting careers.

"May I?" He suddenly spoke beside you. Have you any idea how hard it was to maintain his composure and make sure his voice doesn't crack?

Well you do, as you find yourself smiling. You take his hand and allowed him to lead you to the dancefloor. He initiates to lead the waltz, and he moves with a certain fluidity in him. Back then, at your first dance he was nervous. His hands were clammy against yours and he kept apologizing for it, he stepped on your foot twice... He certainly improved. With the wedding song at the background, he couldn't help but to string you along memory lane by reenacting your first dance.

Edward looked down to see you leaning your head against his chest. Could you hear his heart too, he wonders. He knows he can hear it, pounding against his ear.

"I missed this. I missed you..."

... there comes the butterflies. Didn't thought he'd feel them again.

His hand finds its way on jaw, his thumb running over your cheek. Out of habit, you leaned forward to meet his lips in the middle. He wasn't sure that you'd reciprocate, he thought you'd glance away and he thought he'd ruin things again. He smiles on your lips, relieved that you still feel the same.

💚 Batman the animated series

Thinks he's smooth, confident that it was a mere coincidence that your song played, unaware that you saw him when he bribed the musician to play a certain title next. You can smile fondly or roll your eyes at his sappiness. He didn't need to bribe them to play your song, you would've danced with him either way.

And when he inevitably asked for your hand, you immediately accepted. He takes you in a waltz position, with him leading and wouldn't ya know it, started the choreography with the one from your first dance.

"Really?" You raised a brow when he dips your form.

"I don't know what you're talking about, my dear." He lifts you up again to twirl you, before his hands repositioned at the small of your back and you were once again chest-to-chest.

This was pleasant. You missed this...

Your face that was soft with admiration flushes and drains. Your movements grew stiff and Edward immediately took notice. Instead of taking you through the choreography of your dance, he opts to just sway you from side to side.

"What's wrong?" He asks.

"I... I don't know..."

"Would you like to step off the dancefloor?"

"No!" You cleared your throat sheepishly, not really intending to be that loud with your word. "No... It's just that... How I miss this so much." And how I regret divorcing you. "I... I don't know what your intention is with this dance, whether you're just doing this for old times' sake or out of just... Entertainment... To me... It's a realization that... That I..."

He knows what you're referring to. You have a way with words that made him fall for you, but you didn't need them to send a message across. And he'd like to let you know what's his response.

He gently pinched your chin and tilted it to meet with his. Your message was the same as his and you happily return his gesture.

💚 Harley Quinn

The only reason why he lead you to the dancefloor, was to avoid the discomfort you were feeling. Being a hero in near a crowd of villains isn't really an ideal thing, so your ex husband had opted to whisk you away from the oncoming whatever the fuck-- brawl, gun fight, shanking, fear toxins, laughing gas, you never know. You've made quite the enemy out of his friends.

But well... Fate has a way of making two souls shitty, such as playing their song in the middle of a tense sway in the middle of the dancefloor. Your last meeting was less than ideal, given that you were... Screaming bloody murder toward each other, about your careers, the crimes he's commit, how you chose poorly of marrying a guy like him, how you regret falling in love with him...

It still stings, by the way.

"Fucking hell, really?" You hissed under your breath when you heard the song play, the lyrics being ironic to you now.

"You and me both." Edward sighs.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" He acted as though he didn't know what you were referring to.

Why did he knowingly whisk you away from people who wants to fuck you up? Simple, he still cares... And you know that, which makes it all the shittier since you've let out words, unsavoury words, slip from your lips that you regret letting out.

You decided not to continue the topic, knowing full-well he doesn't want to talk about it. Some things still don't change about it, that's good to know.

"Thanks..."

Edward looks down at you with a raised bow. "For what?"

"Doing this. Protecting me?" You know how your only protection from the rogues was your association with Edward and at the duration of your relationship, you took advantage of that by taking risks.

'Hurt me and the Riddler will kill you.'

Meanwhile, he used you as well. Took the risk of putting a bug on you to spy on your meetings with your hero league.

"Yeah, no. I just want to do ditch Joker and his posse. I swear, they always inflate that clown's ego to save their skin." His tell of lying? Looking away.

"Look... I'm sorry about... The past. The things I've said."

The tension in his face loosened at the slightest. He still refuses to meet your eye.

So what? You're apologizing, big whop. It's not like it's going to undo things.

"Is something wrong?"

"No." Fuck, Why'd his voice crack? Fuck, why is his face wet?

You reach for his face. Right then and there he wanted nothing more to relish your warmth and lean to your touch. Your thumb swipe his tears away and though it didn't stop his tears, he felt as though he's going to be okay.

"You're not the one supposed to be apologizing..." Edward huffs. "I deserve the things that you told me."

"I forgive you."

He snorts, tears still in his eyes. "Really? Like that?" You nodded. "You're a moron."

"I guess I am." You shrugged.

A familiar spark ignites between you, and he was unsure whether it was only him who was feeling it. He slowly leans in, stopping midway to make sure he was reading this right, until you meet him in the middle.

Perhaps, a new beginning is in session.