Stay

stay

tsukishima kei x reader

warnings: afab! reader, mentions of unprotected sex, unclear relationship between reader and tsukki, kei is bad at feelings

you hear tsukishima shuffling in the bathroom as you lay on his bed.

looking up at his ceiling, you try to figure him out: is he the kind of guy who’ll kick a girl out after he sleeps with her? will he let you stay? should you get dressed and make a run for it while he’s busy?

instead, you stay where you are, only choosing to drape your arm over your face, the crook of your elbow resting over your eyes. you close them. you’ll leave it up to him to decide what he wants to do with you.

would he walk you home if he kicked you out?

eyes still closed, you hear him come back into the room. you brace yourself for rejection and the eventual walk of shame.

the bed dips as he kneels on it, inching closer to you.

you feel him tap the side of your naked thigh, “open your legs,” he says

you do so, choosing not to remove your arm from covering your face until you feel him clean the mess in between your thighs with a damp hand towel. you guess it’s the least he could do before kicking you out— given that most of the mess is his.

he sighs once he’s finished, discarding the rag, eyes still not meeting yours as he makes his way to the dresser across the room.

“you…” he drags the question out as he rummages through the top drawer.

“want a shirt?”

you hum, and he throws it over to you.

he’s pacing the room again, picking up the various clothing items you were each wearing before the night’s encounter.

you see him fold your pants, the shirt you were wearing, and your bra. he picks up your panties and finally, shyly, meets your gaze, cheeks coloring.

he throws these at you, too. you to put them on.

he’s back to his drawers, pulling out a clean pair of sweatpants for himself. the waistband rests low on his waist as he finally, finally, comes back to bed.

“umm,”

you take this as your cue to leave, sitting up and moving to the edge of the bed, searching his room for your phone, your keys, your wallet.

“i tend to run pretty cold at night,” he begins, clearing his throat, “do you want an extra blanket incase-

“are you leaving?”

he cuts himself off when he realizes you’re collecting your belongings, your pants already in hand, waiting for you to put them on.

you feel like a deer caught in headlights. your mouth falling open into a soundless oh.

“you want me to stay?” you ask him, unsure

immediately, tsukishima gets defensive, closing himself off, “i mean, no one’s forcing you to.”

he looks away, and you feel like hitting yourself with a hammer repeatedly.

“text me when you get home.” is all he says, still not meeting your eyes.

“tsukki-”

“what.” his tone is harsh. he’s furiously picking at the skin around his cuticles.

“i-i want to stay,” you tell him, nearing him where he is sitting on the edge of his bed. while he still pretends to be upset, he’s readily parting his legs for you to nestle in between them, burrowing his head in your stomach as you stand in front of him, your fingers immediately moving to scratch his scalp the way he likes. his hands gently cup your ass, bringing you closer.

tsukishima breathes in the scent of you and him mixed together through his shirt. you’re good to him. too good sometimes.

the truth is he wants you to stay in his bed (and his heart, and his life) forever.

“call me kei,” he tells you finally, softly, “s’the least you can do after asking me to cum inside you.”

“kei,” you say, smile on your lips, savoring the syllable, “can you get me an extra blanket?”

he huffs, pulling you down to lay beside him, “you won’t need one after i’m done with you.”

It took a while to remove his clothes; he took his time with the straps and buckles of his armor. Finally, he had removed the last piece and was left with nothing but his ill-fitting skin. He tucked his hands behind his back and stood on display for her like a soldier standing to attention. This was only one of the many times he'd had to do this but that didn't make it much easier.

She was especially beautiful today with flowers tucked into her hair that complimented the gold blooms embroidered on her wedding dress. She pushed the veil back now like she wanted to get a better look at him.

"Oh," she breathed. "You..."

 He didn't look her in the eye, wanting to save himself from whatever he'd find there. Would she even stay long enough to spend the night with him? Would she sleep in the same bed? Forget about consummating their marriage, he'd be lucky if she even looked at him the same after this. Still, she was in the same room as him with her delicate scent engulfing his senses. It took a lot of willpower not to get visibly aroused.

"There are so many scars," she breathed. "How did you get such a collection?"

"Different monsters throughout the years," he muttered. "Are you done?"

 "It's fascinating. So, each scar has a memory." She reached out to touch a prominent one on his chest.

Despite seeing her reach out it still startled him when her soft hand fell on his skin. He reacted far too strongly to that, jumping back and nearly tripping over his discarded shoes. He caught his balance with a hand on the foot of the bed and stared at her, unwilling or unable to explain himself.

She had stepped back too and now stood with her hand lightly touching her neck, looking vaguely horrified. He knew he seemed more like a wild animal at this point than a man. Hilarious.

"When was the last time you were touched by anyone at all?"

 "A long time ago," he admitted, straightening from the half-crouch he'd been in.

"The Great Dragon of Elinia, too powerful to touch," she tried to joke.

He stared at her with a flat, unwavering gaze. She came alive, taking a small step towards him. He forced himself not to back away and huffed out a breath, watching her carefully. Many of his ill-fated marriages had begun and ended with his bride trying to kill him on the first night, often with a knife she had hidden in her dress.

But this bride either had no knife or was simply awaiting a better opportunity. She lifted her hand again and gently placed it against his skin. He shifted his weight from one foot to another, eyes fluttering shut as a little tension washed away from him.

"You're beautiful," she murmured.

His eyes snapped open and he tensed again, a snarl trapped in his mouth. He worked his jaw for a moment and then said darkly,

"Liar."

"I'm not! Not many can endure a dragon's flame and come out not only alive but gifted with its power," she said earnestly. "I admire your strength."

He was partly amused but largely angry.

"Does it look like it was worth it?" He sneered. "Look at me."

"I am," she said softly. "And I think you're beautiful."

He jolted away, seething. "You don't mean it. You cannot possibly mean it. What is your ulterior motive? What do you want from me? Money? Fame? My heart on a platter to take back to Galamath?"

"We're married. I know it was out of convenience for both our families, but you interest me. I could do worse."

He snorted and turned away.

"Others have tried to kill you," she said it like it was a new revelation.

"You didn't know?" He turned back slowly. "The world is cruel to its own, woman. Crueler still to mutants."

"But you help people."

"It makes no difference to them," he said. "Change out of that dress."

 She clutched at the piles of silk along her waist and raised her eyebrows.

"We have to share the bed," he grunted. "That's all."

"You wish only to sleep?" She frowned, her eyebrows furrowed. "What about-"

"I do not want to get killed in my sleep so don't even try." He strode into the bathroom without a backward glance.

He could hear the rustle of her clothes as she struggled out of the many intricate layers. It sounded like she needed help, but he didn't move.  He could almost picture himself helping her, pulling on those delicate ribbons that held up her dress in the back. And she'd be exposed to him, delicate and womanly. He gritted his teeth as he became aware of a fierce throbbing between his legs. He looked down, biting his lip.

 He braced himself with one hand against the wall and hesitantly touched himself. He stifled a grunt as he wrapped his hand around his cock. His palm was a little too rough and dry but he didn't care. He jerked himself off, biting down on his bottom lip to keep from making too much noise. He came hard all over his hand, spilling onto the marble floor. He cursed and fetched a towel, grumbling to himself.

When he finally emerged from the bathroom he was freshly washed and dressed in a pair of silk pants. It wouldn't hide an erection but it was comfortable and he figured in the dark it wouldn't matter. She turned to him, his brush in her hand.

"Sorry, it was the only one I found." Her gaze lingered on his bare chest.

"It's fine." He lay down and folded his hands over his stomach. "When you're ready for bed, turn off the lamps," he said.

She went into the bathroom and he closed his eyes. When she came out, he kept his eyes closed and breathing even so that he looked like he was asleep. She came around to his side of the bed just like he thought and he waited for her to strike him. But, she never did. After a few seconds of staring at him, she turned off the lamps and went around to her side of the bed, and lay down.

In the darkness, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He waited several minutes until her breathing slowed. She was asleep! After nearly half an hour, he fell asleep as well. But he was ready to wake up the moment she tried something. He was eventually woken up as she turned over and rolled against him.

His eyes opened and he held still. However, she was not awake, only moving in her sleep. Her nightdress had ridden up above her thighs and was pushed up even further as she slung one leg over both of his, pushing closer, murmuring. He could feel the warmth radiating from between her legs inches away from his leg. He was slightly ashamed to feel the blood rush to his cock. He tried to shift away but her hands came out and clutched at him and with a blissful sigh, her hips moved in a sinuous rolling motion against his thigh.

He hissed in a breath, feeling hints of her feminine parts brush against him. What was she doing?

"Oh," she moaned groggily, eyes opening slowly.

He kept his eyes closed, unwilling to take the blame for her actions. She was the one pressing against him, she couldn't say he'd done anything. But she didn't shake him awake and demand answers. Instead, she let out a tiny moan and opened her legs wider, pressing harder against his thigh. He licked his lips, thinking she was mad to believe he'd stay asleep while she ground against him like that. Her actions were beginning to make a wet spot on his pajama pants and his nostrils flared as the scent of her arousal permeated the air.

He clenched his fists into the sheets to keep from reaching for her. She probably still thought he was asleep and he didn't want to scare her.

"Fuck," she hissed in frustration, unable to bring herself to climax against his thigh alone and he bit back a small smile.

And then her hand happened to brush against his cock and they both sucked in a breath. Him in arousal, her in surprise.

"How long have you been awake?" She asked, her form barely visible thanks to the moonless night.

"A while," he said, staring at the ceiling.

She hesitated and he almost thought she would return to her side of the bed, but then her hand brushed against his cock again and his legs jerked minimally, trapped underneath her own. He bit back a groan.

"Maybe we can help each other?" She said courageously. "Please?"

 She didn't even have to ask for him to say yes but she didn't need to know that.

"What do you want?" He asked, voice low and gruff with lust.

"Help me cum," she said, and her unabashed words shot bolts of electricity through his body.

"Are you sure?"

She straddled his thighs, pulling her night dress up around her waist.

"Please," she said and he grunted in acquiescence.

The dark shrouded them like a blanket and even though he could see better than her, she took his hand and helped to guide it between her legs.

"There," she whispered as his finger pressed against her clit. "Oh god, yes."

She was so very wet. He wondered enviously, which man had she dreamt of before she awoke. She moaned sweetly, bracing her hands on either side of his body.

"Please," she whispered, wet and slippery against his fingers. "Give me more."

He pressed a finger against her entrance and felt it sink into her hot walls. She sat up, tense and breathless.

"You have such thick fingers," she mused. "Add another."

He did, enjoying the sound of her moans as he searched for the best way to press into her that had her hips jerking forward to ask for more. So he added a third finger and she froze breath catching.

"Slower. Let me have a moment to adjust," she asked, pressing a hand to his chest.

"Are you a virgin?" He frowned.

"No. It has been a while. My first took what he wanted and left. I don't blame him because he didn't know better but it wasn't a wonderful experience."

 "And now?" He couldn't help but ask.

"What do you think?" Her voice trembled and broke. "Your fingers feel so good inside me."

He couldn't help but groan in response. She had been frank and quick to speak her thoughts when they had first met at the wedding party but he hadn't expected the same in the bedroom.

She took a deep breath and said, "The next time I was with him I got on top of him and I didn't let him cum until I had twice. Some people need to be taught. But you-" She gasped and shivered. "You know exactly what to do."

Indeed, he did. Then again, she was curiously receptive and sensitive to his touch. Perhaps the dark made it better when she couldn't see him and his mangled, scarred skin. She came hard against his hand, squeezing around his fingers as she made a small sobbing sound and fell against his chest.

"Are you all right?" His free hand stroked her hair and he licked his fingers clean, shivering at the pure sensuality of her taste.

"That was amazing," she hummed. "You were very patient."

 "I don't see what you mean," he replied, freezing up when she shuffled herself down his legs and seized his cock which still throbbed.

The heat returned with vengeance and he heaved himself up on his elbows, peering down at her.

"You mustn't force yourself," he muttered. "I can take care of myself."

"Nonsense. Let me repay the favor," she said, tugging on the band of his pants.

He lifted his hips for her and she pulled them off, running her hands over his scarred thighs. Her hands quickly found his cock, almost like she was impatient to hold it in her hand.

"Now this is a prize," she murmured, rubbing her thumb over his slit, which leaked a rather copious amount of pre-cum over her fingers.

"Are you always this virile?" She giggled.

His breath caught in his throat and blocked whatever he wanted to say. He was already so worked up that it wouldn't take much to get him to explode. The pace she set was edging him and he was far too wound up to tolerate it. He put his hand around hers and increased the pace, throwing his head back against the pillow.

"You're so handsome like that," she murmured. "I can't believe I get to have you."

"Shut up," he hissed but she paid him no mind.

"I'll get you to believe me eventually," she said in determination.

His response came in shambles as she brushed his hand away and leaned over to kiss the tip of his cock. He tried to keep his noises to a minimum but couldn't help snarling like an animal as she took more of him into her mouth. He clutched at the pillow to keep from clutching at her hair instead. His hips moved of their own accord, thrusting his cock into her warm, wet mouth. She mumbled unintelligible words but they sounded encouraging.

"Fuck," he rasped and his hand came down to rest on her head, pushing her further down on him until she choked on his length. "Stop," he hissed, battling against his desires. "Stop, damn it."

She lifted long enough to catch her breath and utter an imperious "no" before she wrapped her lips around him again. He couldn't help himself anymore and came, spilling in her mouth. She swallowed and licked him clean, humming contentedly. His chest heaved as he struggled to calm his racing heart. She giggled and tucked her body against him.

"That was perfect," she said.

He grunted and held her close, breathing in her scent. He slept deeply this time, deep enough that she could take up the jewel-encrusted dagger that she had hidden behind the lamp on the side table. He had been so suspicious of her and he'd be furious if he found it but she didn't care, because that dagger was not for him. He was hers now and she had no intention of hurting him in any way. People had already done plenty of that.

When he woke up, it was so sunlight creeping in through the blinds to warm his naked skin. He sat up, combing his hands through his tangled hair. The space beside him was empty. He stared for a long time and sighed. So, she had decided to leave after all. This was another thing he was used to; his brides escaping into the forest around his house and getting lost. He would always retrieve them and bandage any wounds they had gotten and send them back to their homes and return to his alone.

How many more marriages would he endure in this fashion? He stood and dressed briskly and went straight down to the stables to saddle a horse and go after his bride. The stable hand, a usually quiet lad, was unusually talkative. But he wasn't in the mood for conversation and held up a hand to silence him. As soon as he was in the saddle, he cantered off into the forest.

Three hours later he returned in defeat, sweaty and pissed. It wasn't often that they went far enough that he couldn't find them. Or worse, they had already been attacked by a wild animal. But he had found no traces of blood so he could only assume that she had found her way out of the forest by herself. He stormed into the house, snapping for a maid to heat water for him to bathe.

He yanked his jacket off, trying to suppress the urge to put holes in the wall.

"So, you do care about me," someone said softly.

His head jerked up. There was his bride, unharmed, wearing his robe. She had never left. Suddenly, he realized that must have been what the stable hand was trying to tell him. He felt a little foolish and simply stood and stared at her, confused.

 "Why are you still here?" He asked roughly.

"I mean to stay," she said, stepping forward and slipping her arms around him in an embrace. "You need a bath and your hair is a mess. Come, I'll help you."

He followed her quietly, contemplating the warmth blooming in his heart. It was a foreign feeling he did not yet know, but he would soon learn that it was called love.

Okay but what if, before MC is taken to the future by nightbringer, they had a big fight with the brothers?

Like, they fought about something and said something along the lines 'go away' ' I don't want to see you', but then, when you don't return they start feeling guilty.

At first they'll think you're angry and don't want to talk with them, but when time passes and you don't return they start to get so worried, looking everywhere for you, regretting that the, possibly, last words they said to you were harsh confrontation.

The angst potential 😭😭 how do you think each of the bros would react?

😈🍬 anon

a/n: well, nightbringer sure is a blessing for angst fans.

the worst goodbye | the demon brothers

2.8k words | gn!reader | sfw | angst

cw: mentions of lesson 16 in belphie's part.

Lucifer goes to his office and pretends that he's not angry. He attempts to distract himself with paperwork, but all he does is read the same paragraph a few times over and over again before he throws the page down with a huff. He taps his pen against his desk while he sifts through the emotions clouding his mind. All he felt earlier was wounded pride—that's why he scolded you with more force than necessary, speaking with his cruel, barbed tongue but regretting it just as quickly. He admires and loathes your feisty temper. You're his stubborn, brave little human that stands up to him when most demons wouldn't dare to try.

He plans his apology like a mantra and goes to your room; he knows if he's sincere, you'll give him a chance to make things right. You don't answer your door when he knocks, and he peeks his head inside to confirm that you're not there. He sends you a message with his D.D.D. and shuffles awkwardly in the hallway while he waits for a reply. He asks in the family group chat, but no one's seen you recently and he ignores the initial tendrils of icy fear that make his chest feel tight. Surely you wouldn't have stormed off in a sulk? But he checks the rest of the house and his brothers realize slowly that something is wrong—you wouldn't just leave. Lucifer searches for you himself, around the House of Lamentation and all around the Devildom, searching for anyone that might've seen you, or any hint of where you've gone. But in the early twilight hours, he pours a glass of Demonus that remains untouched while he stares absently into the fire of his private study. His heart freezes over in your absence. Your warmth thawed his icy demeanor, and the roaring fire crackling nearby can't stop the chills that wrack through him when he tells himself that you're gone and he has no one to blame but himself.

You rarely fight with Mammon these days, but when you do, it spirals out of control. He spits out scathing remarks about how he's sick of you trying to pry your nose into his business because he hates admitting that you're right. You try so desperately not to yell (or cry, or both) when you plead with him to forget about whatever risky scheme he's got planned. It's not worth risking Lucifer's wrath and whatever punishment lies in store when Mammon's plan inevitably fails to his own detriment. He stalks away and ignores the sound of your voice cracking in pain when you call his name one last time—and maybe if he were less incensed, he would stop and turn around and apologize. But today he feels particularly stubborn and he doesn't look back. He fully intends on leaping in his car and driving off into the night to burn off some steam, but he slumps against his bedroom door with his head in his hands and tries to remember why he was so angry with you to begin with. He can't pinpoint the reason and he knows you only have his best intentions at heart.

It feels like hours later when he ends up outside your door, head down and tail tucked firmly between his legs. He shouts through the wood when you don't answer and he swears he didn't mean it, that he'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you. You're too patient and kind and loving for your own good, and he tempts fate every time he takes your forgiveness for granted. He opens the door and scratches his head in confusion when he realizes you're not there. He spots one of his brothers at the end of the hall, and his confusion sours into something ashy on his tongue when he asks him where you are. I haven't seen them—we all thought they were with you!

Leviathan plays his game, tapping the buttons on his handheld with more force than necessary, as simmering anger from your fight earlier darkens his mood. He didn't mean to forget about your lunch date, so why did you get so mad? Maybe calling you a worse nag than Lucifer was over the top, but he planned on making it up to you later! He gets lost in his thoughts and plays his game until he realizes it's been a couple hours and his D.D.D. has been surprisingly silent. Sometimes you message him and invite him to talk things out in your room once you've both had time to calm down. He has no idea what it means that you've ignored him all this time and when he tries to message you first, they go unanswered. He shuffles to your room guiltily and hopes you'll be willing to talk face-to-face. It's almost dinner time, and maybe if you're feeling up to it, he can take you out for dinner. He even canceled his raid tonight so he can spend the evening curled with you on the sofa watching movies instead.

He doesn't expect to hear a commotion as he walks down the stairs to the first floor, and his brothers are crowded outside your room in various states of panic. Lucifer sees him and rushes to explain what's going on, but the words turn to radio static in Levi's head. He doesn't even notice that he drops his D.D.D. and it clatters to the ground, cracking the corner of the plastic case you gave him as a present not too long ago. Instead of cuddling with you on the sofa that night, he curls around his body pillow in the tub, his tail twitching noisily against the porcelain while he buries his head and deafens his whimpers in the tear-stained cotton. Come back, come back, please come back—

When the rage subsides, Satan glances wearily around his room and the terrible mess he's made. Some of his favourite books are ripped and torn to shreds across the floor, but the sight hurts less than the memory of your heartbroken face crumpling in pain as you fought back tears. He's done many terrible things in his life he's not proud of, but insinuating you don't care about him might be the lowest blow he could use during a fight. You've only wanted what's best for him, and you try so hard to show the world that he's more than the violent, angry creature that lurks deep inside him.

If only the world could see you the way I do.

Regret quickens his steps and he leaves the broken chaos in his room to find you because he shouldn't have even let you go. Why did it take him so long to apologize? He doesn't deserve it, but if you'll only give him a chance, he swears to himself he'll make it up to you. He hastily wipes away the tears pooling in the corner of his eyes when he notices his brothers lingering outside your room. They're too distraught to notice the sharp bite in his words when he demands to know what's going on and where you are. Nothing they say makes any sense—you wouldn't just leave, right? He’s the first to tear through the house in a panic to find you, ignoring his brothers’ nervous pleas for him to calm down. You're nowhere to be found and eventually he returns to his room in a trance. No one knows how long he stands there, trembling with regret and shame and fury that someone or something dared take you away from him. All his brothers know, judging by the noise echoing through the halls, is that his room is nearly destroyed as he unleashed his heartbreak in a maelstrom of destructive rage.

Asmodeus takes another selfie and posts it on Devilgram. He hopes the notification will pop up on your D.D.D. and you'll see him having the time of his life at The Fall. He wants you to see it—he hopes it fills you with regret for arguing with him earlier. He doesn't fight with you often, but your tongues are both sharp and laced with venom when you do face off against each other. He enjoyed the anxious gleam in your eye when he backed you into a wall and leaned down so you were nearly nose-to-nose, the sweet scent of his lip gloss lingering in the gap between you while he cooed about how pathetic you looked. But that was almost an hour ago, and he can only pretend for so long that he doesn't regret leaving you stunned and hurt in the front hall when he waltzed out the door and slammed it behind him. The pounding music can't drown out the wicked things he said to you, and the crowd can't distract him from your absence that weighs heavily in his heart. There are many demons nearby who'd kill for his attention, but he knows deep down that the only hands he wants roaming over his body are yours.

It's not long after that he pushes his way out of the club and into the cool night air, but he still hasn't heard from you. Surely you've seen his Devilgram posts by now? You're smart enough to recognize his desperate ploys for attention. Your attention. Are you ignoring him on purpose? Maybe he deserves it, but he's anxious to talk to you and sends you a message on his walk home anyway. Message could not be delivered. The red text pops up on his screen, and he frowns and tries again. Message could not be delivered. He quickens his pace as he taps your contact name and calls you instead. Is there something wrong with your D.D.D.? "The number you have dialed is not in service."

He breaks into a run until the House of Lamentation peeks into view ahead. He bursts through the door and ignores Lucifer's angry shouts behind him as he rushes down the hall to your room, but all he sees is one of your favourite club outfits laid out on your bed, as if you were getting ready to come see him after all. Where are you? His brothers hover behind him and he borrows one of their phones so he can try calling you again. He tells himself that it must be a problem with his D.D.D. because no other explanation makes sense. "The number you have dialed is—" Asmo whimpers pitifully while he listens to the robotic voice drone on speaker for everyone to hear, and his brothers finally realize that something is wrong and split up to search for you. He chokes out your name and slumps onto your bed, inhaling your familiar scent when he holds your shirt, one that he bought you, to his face and sobs. He can hear his brothers' heavy footfalls throughout the house while they look for you, but deep down, he already knows you're gone.

Beel glances at the stands and wipes sweat and dirt from his brow. He can spot his brothers easily enough—it's hard to miss them, with the way Asmo's waving the glittery handmade sign with his name in bold pink lettering—but he doesn't see you. There's an empty space between Mammon and Levi where you normally sit, and they've kept it free for when—if—you show up. You've never missed one of his games, not ever. Maybe the argument earlier upset you more than he realized. He knows you don't normally eat his food on purpose. He knows you meant it when you sputtered apologies when you realized your mistake. He knows how hurt you were when he shouted at you in a hungry rage. The rest of the game passes by in a blur. He moves on autopilot, his mood growing more and more despondent each time he checks the crowd and realizes you're still not there. He barely recognizes his team's happy cheers when the game ends in victory. He has a quick shower and makes his excuses to his teammates because he already has plans for dinner tonight, with you, hopefully. He stops by Hell's Kitchen and picks up your favourite takeaway order and heads home. It's a peace offering, one of many apologies he owes you.

By the time he knocks on your door, he's eager to see you. Silence. He knocks again and waits, and he hesitantly pushes the door open when his greeting goes unanswered. You're not in your room, and after a quick search of the house, he realizes you're not anywhere. He visits your room over and over again as if you'll finally pop out and tell him you were just teasing him, because you wouldn't ever leave him on purpose, right? His name on a handmade sign on your bed, and one of his old jerseys he gave you, are all that you left behind and he wonders if he would've been able to stop you leaving had he come home to you sooner. (Your takeaway dinner remains uneaten in the fridge in case you come back, and Beel refuses to eat it himself or let anyone else eat it either. One of his brothers has to throw it away when it eventually turns rancid—Beel can't bring himself to do it, because it means admitting you may never come back.)

Belphie doesn't like sleeping alone. Most nights if he sleeps alone, it's by choice—his choice. Tonight should've ended like most nights do: with the both of you sharing the bed in the attic. He sleeps better when you're close. You're a warm weight curled against him, and the smell of your shampoo and your minty breath are small comforts when he has bad dreams. Sometimes he wakes up in a panic, his shirt damp with cold sweat, and he listens for your quiet snores, proof that you're alive, that the nightmare of your windpipe crushed in his deadly grip isn't real. Belphie sleeps in the attic alone tonight because you decided you needed space. It's petty revenge for earlier when he woke up from a nap in a foul mood and snapped at you in his frustration. He fluffs his pillow and his bottom lip juts out in a pout. He can't get comfortable and it's your fault. The house grows quiet as his brothers retire to their rooms and fall asleep, and Belphie senses when you finally drift off to sleep too. If he wakes up before you tomorrow, he'll crawl into your bed and hope that you'll be more receptive to his apology when you wake up.

It takes longer than usual but he finally falls asleep and feels content. Even when he's unconscious, he instinctively reaches for your presence and it calms him. Your dreamscape is like a little pond, and he watches from his own nearby shore as your thoughts pass by in a blur, like slick oil paintings skimming over a watery surface. He doesn't like to intrude on your dreams if he can help it—he only interferes when he senses them slipping into nightmares instead. He tells himself it's not selfish to erase them for you, but the truth is that he's not sure he can stomach seeing his own face reflected in your dreams anymore, not with its wicked sneer and bloodstained teeth. He's not sure he forgives himself for what he did to you, and he wonders if you've truly forgiven him too.

Something odd in your dreamscape shifts suddenly and it catches Belphie's attention. The images in your subconscious grow murky and twisted, like they're being sucked down into some unseen void. Your presence is like sand falling through his fingertips, and it's harder and harder for him to feel you. He reaches out to your mind to wake you up because he doesn't know what's wrong, but something about this scares him. He jolts awake in the attic, chest heaving with the final memory of something snapping in his mind, like the cord that tethered you to him was suddenly cut. Eventually his brothers get up too and he can hear the commotion coming from down the stairs. He makes his way to your room in a trance before they can come find him. He already knows what his brothers are struggling to understand, the truth that no one can explain. You're gone somewhere far away, impossibly out of his reach, and he dreads falling asleep and feeling the void your absence left behind.

Sleep evades him until he forces himself to try and rest, and he finds himself in your bed instead of his own. He curls himself around your pillow underneath your sheets, clinging to the last whiffs of your scent, and he hopes you'll wake him up and tell him this was nothing but a bad dream. (Your scent fades away long before the nightmare ends, and he stops sleeping in your room after that.)

read more: obey me masterlist

when you call them "husband"

how the blue lock boyfriends react when you call them "husband".

pairings: itoshi sae, shidou ryusei, isagi yoichi x fem!reader (no descriptions tho, just the words "mrs." and "wifey") (separate) | warnings: established relationship, fluff, kissing, the boys are simps, shidou is a warning itself

notes: hi guys! another one of these scenarios since you guys seemed to like the other one so much <3 thank you for all your love and support! also it's my first time writing for shidou so i hope this isn't absolute garbage.

Itoshi Sae

one of your and sae’s favorite couple activities was driving around the city. you loved the feeling of madrid’s summer breeze kissing your face and messing up your hair, and sae… well, he would never admit that, but sae loved anything that made you happy, even if it meant driving with no clear destination in mind until his feet hurt. so it was no wonder you convinced him to do just that on that afternoon.

after half an hour of wandering around town on a porsche, you decided that some starbucks would do both of you well. your little pleading eyes quickly convinced sae to stop by one, letting you order since the intercom was on your side.

“welcome to starbucks, what can i get for you today?” the man’s voice came out of the intercom, the spanish accent still making it a bit difficult for sae to fully comprehend, despite living in madrid for years now. 

“hi! i’d like a caramel frappuccino and a chocolate muffin, please.”

“anything else?”

you turned to him, asking in a whisper, “what do you want, baby?”

“just an iced matcha tea latte.” he shrugged. you smiled, and sae had to fight the urge to smile too. it was maddening, really — how much of an effect you had on him with something as simple as a turn of lips.

he watched as you turned back to the intercom, “and my husband wants an iced matcha tea latte. that would be all, thank you.”

distracted, sae started to take his foot off the brake to go to the payment booth, but suddenly his body froze. he furrowed his eyebrows, confusion etched on his teal eyes.

wait. 

fucking wait. 

sae didn’t register what the guy on the intercom said next, much less what you answered. he didn’t even notice the line of cars behind him and the need to move forward. all that mattered was that one word that fell from your mouth seconds prior.

“what did you call me?” he asked, silently afraid that it was all a trick from his mind fed on his deepest wishes. 

it was only then you seemed to realize what you said. “o-oh, i… i’m sorry, it just— it just came out…” you squeaked, bashful. fuck, you were so pretty like that, with your cheeks rosy while averting his gaze. 

sae smirked, pinching your chin so that you would look at him. he kissed you with a sweetness that wasn’t usually present in his bitter mouth, and you melted at his gentleness. 

“don’t apologize,” he said as he broke the kiss. “i liked that, mrs. itoshi.”

it seemed like it was finally time for that velvet box on the bottom of his drawer.

Shidou Ryusei

peace. peace was all you wished for — at least a little bit. five minutes on the phone to schedule an appointment was not asking for much, was it?

apparently, for shidou, it was.

you were well aware your boyfriend was selfish, and that was an universal rule when it came to your attention. considering he spent a lot of time away for games overseas, you couldn’t blame him for wanting some time alone, since you wanted it too. 

however, you really needed to schedule your doctor’s appointment, and your whiny boyfriend was making this task extremely difficult. every time you started talking to the lady on the other side of the phone, ryusei would butt in with very unnecessary comments that made your eyes roll. you apologized profusely to the woman about a hundred times, and she assured you it was okay. she even said it was sweet. 

if you weren’t so annoyed, you would have thought it was sweet, too. ryusei was never one to shy away from expressing his love, even if it meant embarrassing you and himself in the process (although he was completely shameless, so it made no difference).

“will anyone pick you up after your exam, ma’m?”

you could faintly hear what the woman was saying, since shidou was babbling nonsense in your ear as if you weren’t on a phone call. it made you sigh, and you rubbed the bridge of your nose.

“yes, my husband will pick me up.”

and then, silence. 

it took you a minute to realize that the outside noise disappeared and ryusei had completely stopped talking. you blinked a couple times, confused, and turned your head to look at your boyfriend sitting on the couch. to your surprise, he was blushing and gaping like a fish, in what seemed to be utter disbelief.

you braced yourself for what was about to come. 

“HUSBAND?!”

ah, there it is. his scream pierced through the living room, and you were certain even the other side of the country heard it. 

“thank you for everything, ma’m. i should be going now,” you told the receptionist. she only giggled and wished you a good day. 

the second you put your phone down, ryusei’s arms were around your middle, lifting you up and twirling you around like some cliche romance movie. your prior annoyance melted away in a second, and you could only giggle like a schoolgirl in love. 

“awww, ya wanna be my wifey?” he cooed, putting you down without letting you go. his nose touched yours and you blushed with the intensity of his stare. 

though you wouldn’t back down. 

“of course i do, ryu.” you smiled sweetly. your boyfriend stared at you, shocked and bashful for the second time in the span of five minutes, and then groaned when broken from his stupor. 

what a little devil, he thought. 

and then he kissed you, intense and dominating like only ryusei knew how to be, prodding his tongue in your mouth when you gasped and savoring every corner of your mouth. it was one of those kisses that swept you off your feet and left you dizzy, and he could tell from the hazy look in your eyes when he finally backed away.

“fuck, i love you so much. you ‘gon be my wifey, baby, i promise ya.”

Isagi Yoichi

you were usually the one to accompany yoichi to parties — mostly galas thrown by sponsors who wanted to secure a deal with some sports hotshot —, so, for him, it was a breath of fresh air to be your plus one on the holiday party of the company you worked for. 

since the company in question was a corporation, it was no wonder the decoration was flawless, with lots of gold and red to represent the christmas that would soon arrive. the soundtrack was mainly composed of classical music, and he smiled watching you enjoying a vivaldi song. it reminded him of the early days of your relationship, where you teached him about your favorite classic musicians such as beethoven, mozart, ludovico einaudi and chopin.

your arms were linked as you wandered around the hall, and, non surprisingly, everyone seemed to want to talk to you. of course they would; you were the sweetest, kindest and smartest soul to walk on this earth. isagi couldn’t be more proud of all the recognition you were getting, because you deserved more than anyone he knew. 

“are you having fun, baby?” you suddenly asked. the striker finally noticed he had been staring at you for a while as you drank a glass of champagne. he blushed, but nodded. 

“how could i not? i’m with you.”

a giggle left your lips along with a fond roll of your eyes, and yoichi couldn’t help but think that, if he could listen to a single sound forever, he would choose your laugh in a heartbeat. 

“you’re so silly, yoichi,” you playfully chastised him, but stepped forward to give a kiss to his cheek. he smiled, circling your waist with one arm and pulling so that your bodies were glued.

“what can i say, you make me silly, sweetheart.”

“isn’t that what love is supposed to do?” a third voice suddenly spoke, slightly startling the both of you and breaking you from your little bubble. 

you put down your glass on a waiter’s tray, smiling at the man that arrived. “mr. tanaka! what a pleasure it is to see you here.”

“of course! i wouldn’t miss such a party!” he exclaimed, laughing a little loud for the etiquette of that kind of gala, but no one seemed to mind. 

“and who is this?” he asked, pointing to isagi. 

“this is my husband, isagi yoichi. he came today to support me.”

with such simple words, yoichi’s mind went silent. 

he could faintly discern the man saying something about being a soccer enthusiast and a bastard munchen’s fan — mostly from reading his lips, since his ears were buzzing —, but honestly, he couldn’t care less. isagi’s heart was beating so pathetically fast that if he weren’t an athlete, he was pretty sure he would faint right there. 

husband. you called him your husband. 

did that mean you wanted to marry him? he’s been wanting to propose for a while. you have been dating for five years, after all, and yoichi was sure there was no one else in this world he’d rather spend the rest of his life with. did you only say that because you already lived together? or did you actually want a wedding ceremony with all your friends and family, signing the paper that would bound you for good? until death do us part, he remembered. though yoichi would love you even after dying—

“dear?” you called him, worry in your tone. it’s only then he realized he got lost in his thoughts, and both you and mr. tanaka were staring at him.

“oh, sorry. it’s really nice to meet you, sir.” he shook the man’s hand, engaging in conversation.

while you watched them, you smiled coyly, hoping isagi took the hint.

© 2023 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.

A Sacrificial Game

King!Dragon x Reader

This is my first post since deciding to kick off this new account. It’s rewritten from an old story I had posted on here long ago once upon a time. I hope you enjoy~

CW: ♢ Mention of Near Drowning ♢ Blood/Injury ♢ Abduction ♢

The coos of morning doves and the gentle brushing of branches against your bedroom window were quickly drowned out by the boisterous laughter and squabbling of your many siblings. Your attempt at trying to drown them out via the trusty quilt-over-head technique was quickly plundered as they burst through your sacred doorway. With energy only children can manage to conjure from the depths of hell at 8 in the morning, they jostled you around roughly, stealing away the comforting warmth you'd had. Surely, you'd thought, this was an act of merciless torture. Your skin prickled with goosebumps and, irritably, you managed to croak out a yip. "Ow! Off!" Your anger did nothing more than make them giggle as they lightly bruised you with their rough play. "Lemme sleep, dammit! Off! Get off!" Taking evident joy out of your misery, the damn gremlins only gave you a round of smug looks. They did relent, however it was truthfully only to avoid your flailing swats at their heads. “Momma said we ain’t eatin’ breakfast till you get up. So get up lazy" A chorus of agreements and more jostling only drew a strong eye roll from you. But, nevertheless, you shooed them off and sat up, groggily rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

Normally they'd just eat without you, leaving the leftovers warmed in the oven to be picked at by whoever passed by, but today was a special occasion. It was your birthday. Normally birthdays were happy events full of gifts, smiles, and all things merry-making-- but this one was different. While the younger whelps scurried off to the old wooden table, none the wiser to the fate that you now had to face, a heavy weight hung over the heads of the adults in the house. The thickness of the air palpable as you stepped into the kitchen and saw the grim look on your mother's face.

The saying goes that a starving savage is less likely to ravage your home if you give it a single meal-- and such began the gruesome, superstitious tradition... Once a year, one unlucky village that bordered the human kingdom would be chosen to place the names of all it's unmarried, of-age residents into a box and perform a drawing. Whichever sorry soul was picked would be ripped away from their homes by the temple, never to be seen again. The nobility liked to call it one of the "highest of all honors" a commoner could receive. The common people? You call it human sacrifice.

At least, most of your people do. Despite that being so, the vast majority of the population feared the very notion of abandoning the ritual. Why? Because the entire purpose was to "sate the otherfolk's thirst for human blood." One sacrifice, one year free from their wrath.

Your skin crawled at the very idea of it all as you leant down, clumsy hands tying up the laces of your worn leather boots.

As a child, you believed every word that hung off of the elders' tongues down near the pub. The fascination and wonder of another terrifying world outside the kingdom's tall, stone walls ignited your naive little heart. But with age, it grew evident to you that they were no more than simple old widows and drunkards with nothing better to do with their remaining time than talk stories and scare little children with tall tales. How were you supposed to believe beasts, much less entire civilizations of them, would be satisfied by the blood of one person if they truly wanted to attack a meager village, much less an entire country? Who decided they even wanted that blood? It was an argument you’d tried to raise countless times with your village council only to have it shot down with a simple “Well the Chosen never return, do they?” It pissed you off to no end. It didn't even take two wrinkles in the brain to conclude that it was more likely the animals of the woods, the elements-- or worse, other humans that caused the sacrificed to meet their demise; but no point you made would ever change their stone cold hearts.

And as though your age wasn't enough to make this birthday sour, the drawing was to be held this evening. The irony of someone losing their life on the day of your birth was palpable. Taking your usual chair at the kitchen table, you noticed the way two of your brothers squabbled over the last roll. With spiteful retaliation, you plucked it from between them taking a slow, mocking bite right in front of their faces. Maybe next time they'd think twice before ganging up to practically assault you out of bed.

"(y/n)?" Your head snapped up to attention, meeting your father's gaze. "How are you feeling?" You swallowed the fluffy bread quickly shooting a quiet reply. "I'm alright. Would feel a little better if you guys would stop lookin at me like I'm headed to the gallows." The laugh you were awarded from him was dry, but it eased some of the tension in his weathered shoulders nonetheless.

"I suppose it is a bit stuffy in here for a birthday, huh?" Your mother piped up sheepishly, wiping her hands on the dishtowel that hung from a belt on her hip. "Say, why don't you go visit Alikar? Trade some of our tomatoes for a basket of peaches-- bring those back and I'll make a pie we can all have after the drawing, how does that sound?" The little heads in the room visibly perked at the idea of getting their grubby little paws on something sweet. It wasn't often you had the sugar for such things after all.

Dismissing the idea of having to attend the black box event, you gave her a gentle nod. "Sure, I can do that. Need anything else while I'm out?" You inquired, stuffing the rest of the bread into your mouth before your youngest brother could snatch it from your hand. "No, dear. Just finish your breakfast and we'll handle the rest."

After practically beating your siblings off the table with a stick to get your fill, you quickly washed up and plucked the basket from the floor. “I’m off!” You called, getting no discernible acknowledgement as the chaos in the house never ceased. No matter to you-- the pie would be well worth the trip ahead.

Uncle Alikar.

The man was a huge part of the reason you didn’t believe a lick of all that ‘savage otherfolk’ nonsense. As your feet scuffed along the well worn path, old memories bubbled up to the surface like froth from the babbling brook that ran beside you.

You were the eldest of your siblings which, consequently, meant that when you'd been a rumbling little runt there were no older kids to show you the ropes and your parents' first trial run at raising a whole little person. This always resulted in you tumbling headfirst into trouble, but one day it had gone a little too far. Your tiny body approached the ledge of the stream. The same edge you would use every summer to hunt tadpoles. But, unbeknownst to you, the soil that was far too saturated with yesterday's rain to hold your weight. Without warning, it crumbled beneath your little feet sending you hurtling down into the rushing waters below. The merciless current carried you faster downstream than your father could run and just when your little head was wrenched under the raging current, a large beast sprung into the water after you. Before you could even process what had happened, your little lungs were hacking up the water they're inhaled, the coughing doing little for the burn in your lungs.

At first it was all a blur, you could hear your parents shouting as well as another rumbling voice above you responding back to them. Your little legs dangling far above the ground as a muscular arm stayed firmly wrapped around your waist. Someone was... holding you? You blinked away the tears, looking up to be met with a mouth full of razor-like teeth, thick sopping wet fur, and bright, slitted eyes. Misunderstanding what was going on, you began to cry out in fear. You were absolutely terrified you were about to be eaten by the ravenous river monster your mother warned you about countless times in attempt to dissuade you from wandering near the water when they weren't watching you. Only when those large paws handed you off to your mother ever-so-gently did you begin to quiet back down "Are you alright now, sweetpea? Ol' Alikar didn't mean to spook ya. Poor thing." He was some kind of rakshasa or tabaxi, evident by the sopping tail that swayed in the water behind him and round, fluffy ears that tilted back with concern. Speaking of...

Your knuckles rapped against the wooden door, sending warm clunks into the cottage. It was a serene place far from the human village which was always surrounded by the sweet smells of fruit and scents of warm, freshly made bread. Not but a few seconds later the upper half of the door swung open and there, in all his striped glory, was Alikar himself. “There’s the birthday girl!” He greeted you, his smile full of sharp teeth. A sight that originally took some getting used to but was now synonymous with a second home. “Hey Uncle Al. Mama sent me down to get some peaches for a pie.” You raised your basket of tomatoes.

He only chuckled in reply. “Oh, I know, how else was I supposed to give you your gift?” His paw pushed the lower part of the door open, welcoming you inside-- the scent of herbs and butter wafting much stronger from within. Surprised, you could only follow dumbly after him at first, setting the basket down as you took a seat on his kitchen table.

“A gift? Since when do you have the extra funds to get me gifts?! Aren’t you saving for the wedding? What about--”

    “Would you hush, child?” He laughed, taking amusement in your fretting. “You’re still new to the whole womanhood thing, what do you know about adult troubles?” You gave a halfhearted growl at him but had no argument to fire back at him. Even though you'd been considered an adult in human standards for quite a few years, Alikar did have more experience than you in that department.

"You get onto me about my finances but I don't see you moving out of your parents' home yet." He teased, carefully unloading every piece of fruit from the wicker basket with care. "Don't bully me! I'm plenty experienced in other things!" You whined. Snatching one of the many apples he'd left unattended. The crisp sweetness did little to nurse your slightly bruised ego but the coolness of the juice as it dribbled down you chin quenched plenty other, more satisfying needs. "Yeah? And what would your area of foreign expertise be? Apple thieving?"

You glared at his back, cheeks tinting "No! Like conversation! And courting."

"Pah!" He scoffed, soft paws stacking the soft, pink fruit into a neat arrangement. "Much good your 'experience' has gotten you, I am the only one getting married here out of the two of us." Okay. Ouch. "And I converse plenty well, thank you very much!"

The afternoon passed with similar banter as you stuffed yourself with whatever fruits Alikar let you get your hands on. In the end he had given you a carefully carved wooden totem of your favorite animal, peaches, and sent you on your way. Whatever wood the little figure was made from gave a faint, sweet scent when wet with water. A bit ironic considering how you met all those years ago but you appreciated it nonetheless.

You had asked him if he’d have wanted to come and celebrate with you and your family but, regretfully, he had to decline. As charming and kind as he was, the path to your home was far too close to the village for his comfort and the idea of one of your acquaintances or friends coming to celebrate as well and reporting him sent the hairs on the back his neck straight upward. It was no secret the village wasn’t excited about strange, new creatures given the black box tradition, so it was doubtful Alikar would be in the public eye anytime soon, as unfortunate as that was…

   You didn’t realize how much time you’d wasted until the shadows began stretching longer, snuffing out much of whatever light the day had left for you. “Ah shit.” You mumbled. You'd definitely missed the drawing, and at this rate you wouldn't be able to eat sweets till the next morning. Speeding up from a mozy to a quick trot back up the hill was unpleasant to say the least, but damn if those thoughts of peach pie didn't motivated you to haul ass.

However, as you drew closer your eagerness was smothered.

Hunching down, you quickly used the cover of the thorny brush to peer out at the scene below-- The terrified cries of your siblings pierced through your chest.

“Where’s the girl?!” A man demanded, spear to your father’s throat and eyes unwavering as your mother pled, voice breaking with fear as her children clung to her skirts.

“Dunno what you’re talkin’ bout.” Your father replied curtly, looking the assailant back in the face with matching fury and anger. “I've only got sons.” The hair on the back of your neck stood up. Only once before, in your entire life, had you heard such a chilling tone come from that man. You'd been no older than 12 when a suitor equal to your mother in age offered to pay a hefty sum for your hand in marriage. The cruel chill in his voice as he sent the man away stuck with you-- but it didn't seem like this scenario would have the same outcome.

“Have it your way.”

A pit knotted itself in your breast as your family’s pleas turned to screaming cries, the spear cutting into you father's shoulder without mercy. Everything seemed to move so slowly after that...

First, you'd prayed he'd give in, relenting your location to the angry mob that surrounded him-- but your father stayed silent. That same fury in his eyes unwavering as he stayed on his feet.

Second, you though, maybe, the crowd would believe they'd truly made a mistake. Maybe a (y/n) didn't live in this village. Perhaps they'd been mistaken-- but that hope was quickly snuffed out as the spear-wielding man reeled the weapon back again, poised to strike.

You hadn't even known what you were doing as you pushed through the thorny brambles. Didn't even register as your fingers curled around a plump peach from your basket. And certainly didn't realize the strength you'd shot through your arm as you slung the fruit straight into the back of the man's head.

The hard impact followed by the splatter of sweet juices dripping down his neck was followed only by a second of silence.

Then two.

Then three.

All heads turning in your direction....

Run.

It was nothing more than instinct as you dropped the precious wicker basket your mother had weaved to the ground-- Alikar's carefully nurtured peaches bruising in the dirt. You shot back through the thorns. Dress skirt shredding, legs practically minced as you rushed through the uncaring wild.

Everything blurred.

Heart racing, the sound of shouting, the thundering of feet right on your tail. It was so much, too much-- too soon. There was no where else you could go. You didn't even know where you were going. Run. Run. RUN.

And run you did, even as your calves burned and blood dripped down your skin, you flew through the woods in a desperate flurry. It was fruitless though. Your wreckless abandon being brought to a halt with a blistering pain that shot through your ribs. The last thing you saw was the sight of the ground coming right at you, and then? Darkness.

I was going to wait till I finished part 2 to post this part but I'm too excited and part 2 is about halfway written anyway :) Stay tuned!

ex!b.katsuki x reader ; m.izuku x reader — bakugou cheats on his gf, with midoriya's girlfriend.

☆– warnings; ANGST. mention and description of panic attacks, swear words, cheating (bakugou to reader; uraraka to midoriya), description of a fight. But it ends in fluff~ c;

☆–a.n; honestly, i don't know if i'm going to add another chapter... i still have a bit more of ideas for this, but i don't know ._.

in the meantime, i hope you liked this new part! <3

also, i hope ya'll have a wonderful beggining of 2024!!! may this new year bring lots of good thing for everyone, lots of love and adventures, new amazing things and wonderful people to your lives!

love ya'll so much, wish you all ALL the good things life can bring; no more tears, except happy ones. <3

A few weeks go by, and Midoriya and you keep in touch, texting almost everyday. Talking about random stuff, important stuff, whatever the mood is. But it's mostly cute, random stuff, getting to know each other kind of feeling. It's funny how you both have been around each other for so long and did not actually know one another. 

The texting was cute. Like a picture he sends one afternoon, when his shift is calm and almost finished, when the sun is setting, taken from up high in a building. A beautiful sunset picture that you use as a lock screen wallpaper on your phone. Or that one selfie he sent when he shared patrols with Hero Shoto; you remember thinking how cute he looked posing next to the hot and cold Hero, with two fingers of one of his hands pulled up on a peace sign. Or a picture of a little puppy Hero Deku found on a rainy morning shift. He took it to the closest vet so they could help the little animal, and you find that so fucking heroic it makes your heart jump from the cuteness.

"I wonder… who has you smiling like that? Oh , I know… Mister Greeny," Mineta mocks, his eyebrows shaking up and down suggestively.

"Shut up," you bark and hit him on the upper arm strongly. He simply laughs.

Three months pass faster than you actually realize. You're better, you feel better. You haven't had a single panic attack since Midoriya Izuku entered your life. Which is good… it means good.

He is good.

Since that first Friday you grabbed coffee together, you both decided to make it your day. Each and every Friday morning, Izuku and you would go to grab coffee at that same shop you went to the first time; then he would walk you home as the gentleman he is.

It's Friday and you're waiting for him, it's a bit late already, but you know he is coming. He had a night patrol but he insisted to not break the new tradition - his words. You found it cute, so you didn't protest.

But now you're worried, because it's almost 30 minutes since you have been waiting and he hasn't come yet. Then it becomes 40, 45, 50 minutes. You feel your neck itchy, but you try to ignore it, looking at your phone. Waiting for a notification, waiting for Mid‐ Izuku to contact you. But nothing.

It's already been 1.10 hours long and no sign of him. You sigh and decide to go home, it's been more than an hour already. Probably he had something coming up at the last minute, or he simply forgot. He probably had a rough night and he didn't have time to meet you. You're not as important as his job, obviously.

You grab your things and exit the place, the kind girl behind the counter smiles sadly at you and waves her hand as goodbye. You smile, or at least try, in her direction and leave the coffee shop.

You feel itchy all over. This… This is… weird . Why are you feeling like this? You have no right to feel… disappointed, hurt . He's a Hero. He's freaking Number One, pro hero Deku. His job will always come first. But you can't help it. It's like…

You're not my priority, Y/N. Understand that you'll never be. I have to concentrate in my job if want to fucking be Number one.

You haven't heard his voice in your head for a long time now. And hearing it again is… painful. Hurting. Choking .

Every sound around you feels a hundred times louder as you walk, every light blinds you and you don't realize you're bumping into almost everyone around. The pressure on your neck is getting stronger and you can't breathe. You can't think. Your vision is turning black, like that night at the ramen shop with Mineta. A panic attack . You're having one in the middle of the street. How embarrassing . How pathetic . 

You want the blackness to finally evolve you, and don't let go.

And then you see it, you feel it. Green eyes and strong hands grabbing your shoulders. You know those green eyes, you have seen them before. He's moving his mouth but you can't hear his voice. He looks worried; why is he worried? You feel rough hands that grab your face as softly as he can, and they are cold. You aren't used to the cold, but you like it. It's refreshing.

"...hear me? Y/N, please breathe, okay? Breathe with me," his voice is comforting, so you follow him, you breathe with him. "That's it… You're okay. We are okay."

The sight around you starts to clear, the blackness dissipates and you see clearly. His face is the first thing your eyes find. You know him. "Izuku?"

" Yes! Yes, it's me… Hi, love," he smiles relieved. You look around realizing you're in the middle of a circle, with him. People are watching, some worried, some annoyed. Embarrassing .

You realize then that Izuku's hands are around your face, holding you with no intention of letting go. "Izuku…"

He blinks, realizing then probably your surroundings and nods. "Yes, come one, let's go…"

Izuku helps you stand, his arm surrounding your waist pulling your weight on him so he helps you walk. Everyone starts clapping, clearly recognizing hero Deku even in his civilian clothes.

He walks you to your apartment in silence. Until you walk into the building, "There's no elevator?"

"No, it's been broken since before I got here," you know your voice sounds throaty, and the expression on his face says it worries him.

He sighs looking at the long stairs ahead. He knows you live on the fourth floor. "Okay, then," he says before picking you up, bridal style.

"Izuku! I can walk!"

"No, you can't. You have been putting your weight on me the whole way here."

"Still, I…"

"Shut up. Let me help," his tone it's so authoritative you have no other option than to do that. Shut up and let him help, because you know you wouldn't be able to climb those stairs up on your own even if you tried.

On the way up, you can't avoid watching him. He looks… angry . You have never seen him like that, or better said, you have never experienced his anger, you have seen him angry on the TV, fighting villains.

"I'm sorry," you say, and he stops midway, his eyes traveling to your face.

"You're apologizing for having a panic attack?" He's frowning, his tone incredulous, but serious. It makes tingles run your body.

"I'm… Yes, it's embarrassing ," you feel your voice crack a bit, and you hate that.

"Y/N, it's not embarrassing. It's a trauma response. And it's okay to go through it. But you need to heal…"

You look away from his face, tears already burning your eyes. You can't help but hear his voice again.

Having panic attacks in public is embarrassing, Y/N. You have to control them. Don't be fucking weak.

" He said… he said they were embarrassing."

You know you shouldn't be saying this to Izuku, but you said it even before you could actually think it.

" Who said-…" Izuku stops mid sentence. Takes a deep, deep breath, and continues climbing the stairs in silence. You don't dare look up. He's so tense and angry, you don't really have the courage to witness that right now.

When you arrive at the fourth floor you signal him which one is your apartment. And even when you are in front of the door, he doesn't put you on the ground. He stands there, waiting patiently, as you search for the key card on your bag and when the door is open he enters with you in his arms. He of course takes his shoes off at the entrance and walks inside.

He doesn't say anything as he sits you over the small couch and sits next to you, his arm touching yours and taking almost all the space around you. His smell is around and you like it.

His face is even closer to yours when he asks, worried, "When were you going to tell me you have panic attacks?"

"I… I don't want to bother anyone with them." You tell the truth. You can't lie to him.

"That's what he told you? That they are a bother?" You simply shrug, not really wanting to answer. "Y/N, I'm not angry or feel like this is a bother. I'm worried, you need help."

"I am going to therapy. I've been going since I'm five, Izuku. I had a handle on them, they weren't recurrent until…"

"Until he left you," he finishes for you, slightly shaking his head and you nod.

Izuku sighs, standing up and you watch him. Is he going away? Is he embarrassed and going away, deciding not to involve or do anything with your broken self?

"Do you mind if I make us both tea?"

You shake your head rapidly in answer. He smiles and walks towards the kitchen. You follow his every move, being a small apartment it's easy to do it.

Izuku is… staying . For tea. He's not leaving. He's not leaving you alone after a panic attack. Like Mineta. But he's your best friend, Mineta has always been there; like you have been there for him even after the war he had to be part of at such a young age and he tried to push you away. Izuku doesn't have that obligation. Izuku… is your friend? Well, that's how you like to think of him since you got to know him this past months. But the category of best friend was not there for him yet. You were just getting to know each other. So, why is he here? Why does he stay?

"It's ready," he suddenly says, sitting back next to you with the two mugs of tea. He gives you one and you accept it a bit startled.

The sudden smell of lemon with honey tea that invades your nose as you bring it closer to drink immediately relaxes you. You smile after taking a sip.

You look back at him and he's watching intently at you, like he's waiting for your reaction.

"You remembered," you say and you really want to cry now.

He smiles, a hand flying to the back of his head to scratch it nervously, "You said it was your favorite."

You did. On a text message, when the topic was favorite drinks . But the fact that he remembered that you said it, it is… overwhelming.

Silence again. On your part it's more relaxed, but you can feel him a bit anxious. You decide to give him space, time to say whatever it is that it's inside his mind.

Until he does.

"You're not the only one… struggling still… with all that happened." He says as he sets his mug on the little coffee table in front of you. It's very small, mostly for decoration. Only space for the two mugs you're using at the moment. Izuku then lays his elbows over his knees, fingers fidgeting in the middle clearly showing his nervousness. "I have nightmares. Very bad ones, since the war. Uraraka used to help a lot, she was always there for me when I needed her."

This is the first time he talks about her this willingly, so you just keep silent and give him the space he needs to say whatever he wants.

"I was finally getting better… and then… she wasn't there anymore…"

"The nightmares came back?" He simply nods. You can't help yourself but to direct your hand towards his shoulder in a form of comfort, which he accepts with a small smile.

"I guess… we are two broken people, trying to pick up the pieces left. Aren't we?"

His eyes shine with tears he refuses to set free, probably also what your own looked like. He smiles sadly at you, before patting your hand that still holds his shoulder.

You both stay in silence for a little while before Izuku breaks the silence again.

"I'm sorry about today. I had…" He sighs. "I had a discussion with a partner."

Partner? You know Izuku doesn't have many partners. One is Hero Shoto, who also is his best friend. You doubt he had a discussion with him, you couldn't actually see Shoto in a heated discussion at all. And the other one is… Oh .

"What did he do now?" You don't even have to mention his name. You and Izuku know who you're talking about.

The green-haired man rolls his eyes. "We have been civil. For the sake of everybody around us. And if I'm being honest, we work well together. In fights, we understand each other perfectly. So we decided to just be professional and not bring up anything that happened."

You know this. Izuku had already told you this once, when he called you on his lunch break to talk to you about a cute little butterfly that he would send you the picture of when he was less busy and you heard Bakugou's voice on the back calling for Izuku. They had been on a mission together.

"Until…" Izuku continues, "Until this morning, when he decided to bring up our Friday morning's coffee."

" What?! " You frown. How did he know? Nobody knew, besides Mineta and probably Shoto on Izuku's side. Nobody else knew… unless…

"Paparazzis discovered us. I don't know how. I'm always careful when meeting you. I take a lot of turns and I disguise myself the best I can so they don't recognize me. But they found out." He sighs, a hand sliding his green and black curls back. "They released an article yesterday. About us."

Izuku takes out his phone, searching for something before showing it to you.

NEWLY BACHELOR, NUMBER ONE PRO HERO DEKU, FOUNDS NEW SWEETHEART?

Yes, my readers, this is apparently what it looks like. A young, pretty lady like this caught the attention of the Symbol of Hope quite fast, if you ask for my humble opinion.

We don't have much information about her, sadly. Only that this lady has our favorite Pro Hero on her clutches... Look at the way he looks at her in the following pictures!

Isn't it cute? Let me be honest, as a fan of Deku myself, I can't avoid feeling a bit heartbroken, but I also think that this man deserves all the happiness anyone can give him. Don't you agree? And after that sudden break up with Pro Hero Uravity that caught everyone by surprise, makes me think… Does this lady have anything to do with it? Did she catch Pro Hero Deku's heart from before, causing the break up? Mmm, so many questions, readers, that we don't have the answers yet! But no mind, we will try our best to find them! Be patient, and in the meantime, show a bit of support for our favorite Number One Hero.

You feel like vomiting. Your picture, clear as day, has never been on the front page of a magazine. Bakugou has always protected his privacy so meticulously, and that included you. The media and his fans knew he had a relationship, but he never let anyone get a glimpse of it.

And here you are now, on the front page of Go-zzip Hero magazine, the picture showing you sitting in front of Izuku in that coffee shop, talking so close to his face it practically looks like you're kissing. Oh, shit . You do that? You actually speak that close to him??

You swallow thickly, looking back up at Izuku.

"I am so sorry, Izuku, I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't know. None of us did. But I'm sorry I wasn't more careful…"

"Don't be silly. This is not your fault."

"Yours either."

You both smile shyly at each other. This is… chaotic. Being involved with him is… OH, SHIT.

"What? What is it?" He asks as he sees your eyes open wide in fear.

"Your fans are gonna kill me..."

"No, they aren't…"

"Yes, they are! Oh my God!" You stand, after putting your mug over the table next to his, a bit wobbly on the legs which makes him react fast to hold you if you fall, but you don't. You start walking one way to the other of your small living room. "I'm so food for the fishes… they are going to kill me!"

Izuku chuckles. "No, they aren't, Y/N…"

"Don't laugh! Yes, they are! Especially after what that journalist said! They even hinted that probably I was the reason you broke up with Uraraka!"

"Which is not true. I'll call my manager and PR team and ask for an interview with the magazine and clarify this. You don't have anything to worry about. Neither does Mineta. I'll clarify that we are just friends…"

That makes you freeze in place, frowning. "Mineta? What does he have to do with this?"

Izuku frowns too, looking confused at you. "Aren't you… Isn't he… Aren't you dating ?"

"WHAT?!" By Izuku's flinching, you realize you raised your tone a bit louder than you intended. "Sorry…Mineta is my best friend, Izuku. He's like a brother to me."

Izuku looks so confused, "But… But you always speak about him. He cooks for you, he is… he is here almost everyday for you, and he did all that stuff to piss off Bakugou for you, like a…"

"Like a brother would." You smile. "I do think that somehow our souls are connected, because I know I could leave apart from anyone, except him . He's that annoying sticky thing you get used to living with and don't want to unstick, because if you do something will miss. Because he's my brother. I wouldn't be able to live without his annoying ass." Izuku laughs with you. You walk back to sitting next to him as silence comes back. Then, you keep talking, "Mineta has been there when I had no one. Even when we were five years old and my parents died in a car accident, provoked by a hero-villain fight." Deku tenses, but keeps his attention on you. "We used to play heroes when we were kids and fantasize about how we were going to be Number One. Both of us, together. And then the accident happened. I was left alone. I didn't have much family around, only my old great-grandma that was barely suitable to raise a child. So I was given to the state. I went to an orphanage."

You don't know why you're baring your soul to Izuku like this. This was a painful, very intimate part of your history nobody knew but Mineta. Not even Bakugou knew. He never insisted for you to tell him. He simply accepted that you were Mineta's best friend, end of sentence. He never questioned anything. Now you wonder if that was a good or a bad thing.

"That's when your panic attacks began?" He asks a bit timidly. You nod.

"It happened that same day, when I was given the news about their deaths. A kind lady had been there with me, explaining what it all meant. She was kind, but she didn't have much experience. Imagine walking into a room as a kid where your parents are lying dead in two stretchers and being told these are your parents and you're not gonna see them anymore ." Izuku flinches again, a chill clearly running down his back. "A few hours later, I had my first panic attack. I lost consciousness for almost an hour. It was the longest one I ever had and doctors were worried not enough oxygen had gone to my brain, considering that even when I woke up I wasn't talking to anyone."

"Until Mineta and Auntie Asiki came to see me at the hospital. The second Mineta lay down next to me in the hospital bed, I started crying, and he held me. We were kids, not knowing anything about life, and he still understood that I needed him. Auntie Asiki offered to bring me home with her and Mineta, but the forms to the orphanage had already been filled and accepted. It would take a lot of money, lawyers and procedures to let her, a single mother, take my custody. And while her heart and intentions were hugely appreciated for even thinking about it, it was impossible."

"I didn't know Mineta's mom was a single mother." Izuku frowns, probably guilting himself about it, because of everything they, as class A, had been through their years at UA.

"He doesn't like speaking about it. He really has to trust you to tell you about it."

Izuku nods, instantly respecting that decision. He then scratches his neck again. 

"So, you and him are not…"

You chuckle. "Not even if he was the last man on Earth." Izuku laughs too.

" Ouch , that wounds me so deep, bun," Mineta's voice is heard from the entrance as he walks inside your apartment.

Shit , you haven't heard him at all. The worry on your face is visible, because you have been talking about him, about his private life, and you hadn't consulted him before. You feel so bad, so worried he'll get mad at you.  

Mineta sees you and simply shrugs, "It's okay, bun, I trust Midoriya." He then winks at you and you feel the worry disappear completely.

"Thank you, Mineta. I promise I won't speak about it to anyone."

"It's okay," Mineta answers Izuku, pulling his thumb up in his direction. You smile watching their interaction. "I'm not here though to have this conversation." Your best friend gets closer to where you are, a worried expression on his face. "I was told you had another one, in the middle of the street.." You sigh, looking down at your hands that lay in your lap. "Was it because of him again?"

You nod and Mineta is the one who sighs this time.

"About Bakugou?" Izuku asks then, frowning.

You nod again. "My therapist is helping, but yes, they appear after I remember something, random things he once had said to me."

"Why it doesn't fucking surprise me…" Izuku barks as he stands from the couch and walks, just like you had moments ago. Mineta opens his eyes wide, watching amused at Izuku's reaction.

"He's such a fucking jerk… But we already knew that, didn't we?" 

Izuku immediately agrees with Mineta.

"I should have punched him harder," Izuku's comment makes you choke on the tea you were about to swallow.

"You what?!" Both you and Mineta speak at the same time. You look worried about the whole situation, the discussion clearly hadn't been a simple one if there had been fists involved. Mineta looks like a kid given the awaited present on his birthday.

"What really happened, Izuku?" You ask, worry clear on your tone.

"He saw the article, clearly. I came back from night patrol and was changing in the locker rooms, the whole night shift was there preparing to go home at the same time the morning shift was getting ready to start their patrols. And he started making comments about you and me, about how I apparently like his leftovers, about how you are a gold digger and now went for me."

"He did not fucking say that!" Mineta stands up, ready to beat some ass, Bakugou's, specifically.

"He did! I couldn't not do anything. I tried to be civil and only told him to stop talking about us, that he didn't know anything. And I told him to stop playing the victim, because he was none. The only victims in this story are you and me," Izuku looks at you like he's assuring you, "They don't have the right to even comment on this." 

"Hell yeah, Midoriya!" Mineta cheers, raising his hand for Izuku to high five him, and the green-haired does, animated. You shake your head trying to hold your smile back. "What did corn-head say then?"

Izuku laughs at Mineta's nickname for Bakugou, bumping his fist again with the man in agreement.

You roll your eyes. Jesus , men are such idiots with nicknames. 

"He then said that… I don't know if I should repeat it…" Izuku and Mineta both look at you, Mineta already intuitively knows.

"He talked… he talked about our sex life, didn't he?" You ask after a minute of silence.

Izuku nods.

"Tell me you did punch him hard though…" Mineta is fuming, you can see the smoke coming out his ears, metaphorically. 

"Of course I did. Twice, before someone pushed me away."

"Well done, man." Mineta high fives Izuku again.

"You shouldn't… you didn't have to…"

"I won't let him or anybody speak about you that way, Y/N. Now that I know all you've been through, I won't even give them a chance to."

You move before you think, again. One second you're seated on the couch, and the next you're hugging Izuku. Arms around his neck strongly, as your face hides in your arm and his shoulder. It takes him a second, but he reacts by hugging back, strong arms surrounding your waist as delicately as he can, but also firm and securely.

You heard Mineta walk out of the living room towards the kitchen to entertain himself with anything.

And you feel… safe . You feel so safe in Izuku's arms, it's so comforting and nice.

You feel him take a deep breath over your head, as if your smell was comforting to him. You like that idea. That at least in something so insignificant like your smell, he finds comfort and peace. Relax and ease.

"Thank you, Izuku," you whisper only for him to listen.

He shakes his head, "You have nothing to thank me for."

"I do, though. Not only for those punches," you say backing away just a bit so you can see his face. He smiles proudly at the mention of the punches. "But because you helped me with my panic attacks… Twice."

"Twice?" He asks confusedly, but you nod.

"The first Friday we went to have a coffee, remember?" He nods, "I was waiting, and because it was my first time out of my apartment without Mineta I was feeling overwhelmed and… and then you appeared at the door. And all I felt was relief… I felt safe with you there, so it stopped even before it began."

You are looking at his eyes, and you can see the emotion in them as you speak. He then rests his forehead on yours and takes a deep breath, clearly pushing his emotion back in so he can speak.

"I'll be there for you… I want to be there for you, if you want me…"

"I want you," you immediately answer, "I want you to be here."

"Then I will."

"I also want to be there for you," you scratch the back of his head softly, as he bites his bottom lip, taking a deep breath. He looks like he's trying to control himself from doing something then and there, and that makes you smile.

"I want you . I want you to be there too." He repeats your exact same words, making you feel tingles all over your body as you feel his fingertips caress lightly, timidly, the bit of skin showing at your waist.

"Then I will."

You feel him moving, his nose caressing yours in a cute manner. Slowly getting closer, lips barely touching and…

"Sorry to be a cockblock, but your phone is ringing, Midoriya."

The bubble is popped , so you both back away, clearing your throats and fixing your clothes out of nervousness.

"Oh, yeah, ummm…" Izuku walks back towards the kitchen to search for his phone. "It's Shoto. He's probably heard already about the fight this morning. I should pick this." You nod, signaling to your room for his privacy and he thanks you as he walks there.

Your eyes follow him until the door is closed, and then they go towards the kitchen, where Mineta is standing, hip against the counter and a bowl of snacks in his hands he found somewhere, eating them slowly as he looks at you accusatory. A knowing smirk in his face.

"Shut up."

"I didn't say anything… yet."

You roll your eyes. "Spit it out." You walk towards him, picking some of the snacks on the bowl and eating.

"I have nothing to say, Y/N."

That's impossible, he always has something to say. 

"Or should I call you Ms. Midoriya from now on?" 

Ah, there it is.

You punch him in the arm and he laughs out loud.

PART I - PART II - PART III