Letter

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Letter ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

Characters: Seijoh 4, Y/N, Oikawa’s Fangirls

Synopsis: After spending the entire night trying to make the perfect confession letter you get to the end of the day. In your anxious state you find unlikely help.

Warnings: Confessions

Words: 1353

February 14th. Today. The thought of what you’re going to do makes you cringe. You had spent the whole night trying to write a confession letter. After much editing and rewriting you finally settled on one. You placed it in a carefully picked out envelope and sealed it with your new wax.

You didn't know what to expect from the object of your affections. You feared the worst of course, I mean you’ve barely had three conversations with the man. Despite that though he listened intently each time. He made it at least seem like he cared. Today you were going to find out just how much.

Sluggishly making it through your first classes, letter weighing heavily in your bag. You resisted the temptation to reach down and fiddle with the edges. You didn’t want to give a damaged confession letter when you spent so much time trying to perfect it. This day was going to take so long. Your anxiety weighed on you through the day, your bag feeling heavier and heavier with each minute. Your friends of course noticed and asked if you were okay. You told them of your plan and giggles went around the table.

They weren’t making fun of you. They just thought it was adorable. They were trying to be supportive but you really just wanted the day to be done. Your eyes were growing tired of seeing similar versions of the same chocolates, bears, and flowers. The confession you planned dulled in comparison and you grew more worried it wasn’t enough or right to get your feelings across. One of your friends reassured you that the confession was perfect because it would be from you.

It made you smile how they tried to cheer you up. As the final bell of the day rang you quickly packed your stuff up. You made your way to the gym before stopping. This was supposed to be the easy part, just have to give it to him. Unfortunately you were already stopped. You turn to see a group of Oikawa’s fangirl.

“Are you here to confess?”

“Yeah! To who?” They didn’t seem mean which surprised you. You would’ve though that they would be very mean towards you possibly thinking that you were trying to confess to Oikawa.

“Matsukawa.” You admitted with a cough as you looked away, cheeks heating up. The girls let out an aww.

“Okay! Since we can see you’re nervous we can help. We’ve gone through this plenty of times. Come sit with us during practice so we can help.” The lead girl smiled and took your arm to lead you to the bleachers. Once you all settled into your seats you showed them your letter.

The lead girl, Haru, looked the letter over a calm smile on her face. “This is adorable. I think he’s going to really like it.”

Because they were so caught up helping you they didn’t notice Oikawa come in. Confused, he looked up to see them surrounding one girl. He was a little concerned but when he looked a bit closer he saw a letter in your hand and smiled on everyone’s faces. He smiled mischievously and made his way over to Iwaizumi. “Seems like someone’s getting

confession letter.”

Iwaizumi sighed not wanting to deal with his antics. “No one cares that you’re getting another confession letter Shittykawa.” Oikawa pointed to where his fangirls were sitting closely inspecting a letter.

“I’ve never seen them act like this. It’s most likely not for me.” Little did he know someone was already looking at you. Much to the dismay of Makki.

“Are you going to look at them all practice?” He knew about Matsukawa’s little crush. I mean it was pretty easy to tell: the smiles, the glances, his very red face when he did get to talk to you. Now Matsukawa wasn’t generally a jealous guy but seeing you with a confession letter did something.

The entire practice he thought about who on the team it might be for. He settled on Oikawa. I mean, you were sitting with his fangirls. He didn’t know why they were being so sweet to you though.

After the girls were finished giving you tips on how to confess you all watched the game. They went back to their usual and cheering for Oikawa. They gave you reassuring smiled and thumbs up often though. You started to feel less nervous about what was going to happen in 15 minutes.

You smiled as you watched them all play to their heart's content. It made you happy seeing them happy while they were playing. That seems silly but seeing people really enjoy what they’re doing is the best thing. 13 minutes.

The closer it got the more you looked at Mattsun. You saw him joke around with Makki, saw how he teased Oikawa. Which caused you to laugh as you heard the joke. You muffled it by placing a hand over your mouth though. 10 minutes.

Mattsun looked at you the closer it got to the end of practice too. He cracked more jokes than usual. Hoping you would find him funny. When he saw you laugh he hoped it was because of him and not something Oikawa had somehow done. Makki noticed and patted him on the back. “Simp.” Mattsun rolled his eyes and pushed him a little bit. 9 minutes.

As the minutes counted down the girls returned their attention towards you. “We can come with you if you want. Emotional support and all. Make sure you’re actually able to give it to him.” You smiled. They were being so nice. It was a pleasant surprise when you arrived earlier and they greeted you. You were very thankful for them. 7 minutes.

“I’m still a little nervous but having you guys will help. Thank you.” They nodded and smiled. One girl pulled tape out of her bag and helped close the letter. Another helped you decorate it to keep your mind off of confessing.

“It’s a very sweet confession letter. You’ve got this.” 3 minutes.

Once practice was finally over the boys headed to the locker room to take their showers and change. Mattsun felt more nervous as he was finishing. What if it really was for Oikawa. Makki noticed his nerves and gave him a little smile. “Don’t think too much about it.” He tried. He took a breath through his nose and out his mouth. It helped a little bit.

The girls walked with you to the entrance of the gym and kept you company until they saw him walk out. They turned you around and gave you a gentle push towards him. Your face heated up and you took in a sharp breath. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. You looked at them again to see they were all smiling and giving you a thumbs up. Haru mouthed ‘You got this!’

They disappeared around the corner. You made your way up to Matsukawa. “Hi Matsukawa…can I speak to you for a minute alone?” His face heated up and he felt dazed. Were you trying to confess to him? Surely not? He agreed and you gently held onto his sleeve and pulled him off to an empty corner.

You tried to smile and gave him your letter. “This is for you.” You looked away and scratched your head. Mattsun stared gaping at the letter. It was really for him. He smiled and opened it appreciating the drawing over the surface.

You couldn’t look at him while he read it and were worried. Because you weren’t looking at him though you didn’t see how much he was smiling and the blush covering his face. When he finished he tapped you on the shoulder. “Y/N. Can you look at me?”

You hesitated but eventually met his eyes. He was smiling at you like you hung the stars into the sky. “Can I kiss you?” You were taken aback but nodded with a similar smile on your own face. He leaned in and cupped your face. He placed a gentle kiss on your lips.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!!! If you liked this you can find my other works here! Happy Valentine’s Day!!!!

Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are always appreciated

Secret Notes and Misunderstandings - Sugawara Kōshi x Reader

Pairing: Sugawara Kōshi x Reader (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used) Genre: fluff Word Count: 3 420 Warnings: Use of y/n, Tanaka and Noya Summary: You receive secret notes from someone. If only they were from your crush Suga A/N: I’m not really happy with the style of this one…

Masterlist

It had to be every schoolgirl’s dream, receiving cute notes written by a secret admirer, pushed into her locker every morning. And the notes were cute, they really were. Never creepy or offensive, just sweet.

It had started almost a month ago. One morning you had opened your locker, only to find a small note fluttering out. Not recognizing it, you had unfolded the paper that seemed to have been ripped from a Kanji exercise book. In an unfamiliar handwriting, using what seemed like a fine 0.3mm black ink pen, a few words had been scribbled down, making a smile pull at your lips.

“I’m too shy to tell you this in person, but your presentation on the United Nations yesterday was crazy good.”

You had folded the note back together, and placed it in your pencil case, where it made you smile every time you glanced at it.

“You’re in a good mood today,” Sugawara, your classmate, had grinned when he had passed you during lunch break on this way to the sink.

You had shrugged, your heart beating faster when you had realized that Suga had addressed you. The feeling that ran through your body at every interaction with him was so different from the feelings the note had sparked, so much better.

The notes had started that day, and there had not been one day of school since then, that there hadn’t been one shoved into your locker in the morning. Over time they had gotten more personal, leaving less and less doubt about the author’s attraction to you. He (and you knew it was a guy by the words he used), was never offensive or creepy, just plainly sweet, complimenting the hair clip you had worn the other day, or sometimes even admitting how he wished he would be brave enough to talk to you normally, without these notes.

And the more he revealed his own thoughts, his own insecurities and wishes, the more he revealed of his heart, the worse you felt. The notes were cute, sweet, and normally you would have been dying to know who went through all the effort just for your sake. Maybe you would have been trying to find out who it was and asked them out, just because you felt like after all the effort he had made, he deserved you take a risk too.

But no matter how much you wanted to feel excited and honoured by these notes, there was still Suga. Suga who was in the same class as you and your mysterious admirer, Suga who was working hard in every subject, who helped the other students when they struggled, who laughed loud and unashamedly in the breaks, who’s smile was warm like summer sun beams, even when it was only late February. So really it was Sugawara’s fault, you thought to yourself, that you couldn’t reciprocate the feelings these notes conveyed. If it weren’t for your stupid, stupid, unrequited crush on him, you’d have tried to get into contact with the author of these notes weeks ago. But your heart was hopelessly hung up on someone else, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself to let these feelings go.

So, when you stared down on what had to be the boldest note yet, you felt a little sick.

"I've been trying to work up the courage to ask you to sit with me for lunch for weeks now, but every time I think about getting up and asking you, I get so nervous that I can't even think properly anymore. Maybe I’ll ask you tomorrow. I want to make salmon onigiri, I know you like those. What do you think?"

The nervousness of the author as he had written these words and then pushed the note into your locker was basically seeping out of the paper into your hands, pleading you to be as nervous about him as he was about you. But instead, you knew he was just setting himself up for heartbreak. This had to stop. Now. You had allowed this boy to bring up his hopes for far too long now. You had to end this. Even if it would hurt him. Even when you would feel awful for breaking his heart.  But it was better to end this now than to have him work up the courage to face you and then tell it into his face.

Although he did deserve a gentle let down, he didn’t deserve to torture himself before it. So, after your last class, you ripped out a page of your notebook and grabbed one of your pens. During class, between paying attention to the teachers’ words and the way Suga was bouncing his leg under the table on the other side of the classroom, you had mentally prepared what you wanted to write.

“Dear friend, thank you very much for all the notes over the past weeks. I have enjoyed reading them, but I’m sorry to tell you that I can’t reciprocate your feelings. I already have someone I like, and it wouldn’t be fair to let you keep hoping I will return your feelings. In fact, I should have told you this a lot sooner, and I’m sorry for the pain I’m causing you now. Let this be the last exchange.”

You had been tempted to add words of reassurance or comfort, but you were worried they might make him hope against hope that you would eventually return his feelings. When the last class was over, you used a thin strip of washi-tape and stuck the note to your locker so it was blocking the little gap in the door. This way the note couldn’t possibly go unnoticed by whoever had sent you the others.

The next morning rolled around, and you were almost nervous, when you took off your shoes and placed them in the rack, going to your locker to grab your books for the day. The note you had stuck to its door the day prior was gone, and you already feared someone else might have removed it, but when you opened the locker, no new note came sailing out. You were almost a little disappointed. But you had asked him to stop writing, so you had gotte what you wanted. This was for the best. Let him be disappointed or maybe even a little heartbroken, and by next week he would have moved on.

When you entered the classroom, you found, much to your surprise, that yesterday’s note hadn’t been the last. Instead, someone had placed two wrapped onigiri on your table, and a note underneath. Up until now, the paper had always been torn neatly out of notebooks, the signs evenly paced and written with precision. This time, even though it was the by now familiar handwriting, the page seemed to have been ripped out in haste, the words smeared over the paper, smudging the ink.

“I already made these, and I thought you should have them. If you don’t want them, leave them on the desk during lunch break and I’ll take them back. This is my last note. Thanks for your honesty.”

You bit your lip, staring down at the paper. You could tell his hand had shaken when he had written this note. While nervousness had seeped out of the other notes, this one seemed to ooze pain. He’ll get over it, you thought to yourself, over me.

Quickly you crumbled the note in your hand, pushing the onigiris to the edge of the table, not intending to eat them. With a few steps you made your way to the paper basked, discarding the final note of your secret admirer. On your way back to your desk, your eyes skipped over to where Suga was sitting, as always when you got the chance.

He sat backsided on a chair, arms crossed over the backrest, chin propped on his lower arm. He had taken off his jacket, leaving him in the short sleeved, white button-up of the uniform. Warm spring sunlight flitted in through the window, catching in his silver hair and making it gleam like star light. He looked angelic, you thought to yourself. Even though Daichi was telling him something, and laughing at his side, Suga barely seemed to listen, his gaze absentmindedly directed into the distance. He looked pale, you realized, pale and tired. Hopefully he wouldn’t get sick in the last weeks of the school year.

Suddenly his gaze drew away from wherever he had stared of to, and directed itself to you instead. You felt like your heart almost stopped at the way his coffee brown eyes bore into you, and feeling your cheeks heat up, you lifted your hand to wave at him with a smile. Instead of returning the gesture, he only seemed to tense, before tearing his eyes away from you and sitting up, saying something to Daichi instead.

Confused at his unusual reaction, you walked back to your seat, sitting down. The onigiri in front of you seemed to mock you, and far more frequent than usually your gaze flickered over to Suga during the day. His mood didn’t seem to better though, and in fact it grew only grimmer when he caught you staring at him once.

You were not the only one who seemed to pick up on his unusual behaviour, because as the bell rang for lunch break, you overheard Daichi ask him if everything was okay. Suga only answered he was fine, even though he sounded upset and annoyed, but the rest of the conversation got drowned out by the voices of other students.

Like every day, you left the classroom at the beginning of lunchbreak to refill your bottle at the water fountain in the hallway. Today you made sure to take an extra few minutes; hopefully giving the author of the notes you had received enough time to retrieve the onigiri from your desk. And sure enough, by the time you returned to the classroom, they were gone.

The rest of the day went by without any other incidents, unless one counted Suga’s terrible mood. Even across the classroom it seemed to rub off on you. Originally you had wanted to pay closer attention to the other boys, trying to see if anyone’s behaviour differed from usually which might give them away as the author of the messages, but instead your focus was entirely on Suga and what you could do to cheer him up.

When the last class ended, and you still hadn’t thought of anything useful to say to Suga, you just opted for a wave and a smile, as you usually did, bidding him goodbye before heading off to your club. But unlike all the other days, he ignored you completely, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth and your heart heavy.

It was already growing dark outside when you hasted through the corridors of the school again. Your club had finished only a few minutes ago, when you had remembered there was a book you needed for homework, so you were on your way back to the lockers. You had almost reached them, when suddenly the voices of two students made you stop.

“He explicitly said not to get involved,” the one nagged.

“But have you seen him? Can you really just stand by and watch him suffer like that,” the other voice replied.

Carefully you snuck around the last corner, finding two boys standing in front of your locker. Even in the dim light you could make out the one’s buzzcut and the other’s unruly hair. They were both in the year below you, you realized, and members of the volleyball team, teammates of Suga’s. The one with the unruly hair was trying to push a piece of paper through the gap below the door into your locker.

You were about to ask them what they were up to. After all, neither of them couldn’t have been the one writing the notes you had received; that person was in your class. You knew that from the references to your classwork he had been making.

“You know, he’s gonna hate you when he finds out you got involved.”

“So what, let him hate me! As long as he gets his girl! (Y/n) just has to give him a second chance!”

“Who am I supposed to give a second chance,” you asked out loud, stepping out from behind the corner.

The two boys jumped in surprise as your presence, the one with the unruly hair, quickly hiding a piece of paper behind his back.

“Well, you see, the thing is our set-,” he started, immediately receiving a harsh nudge from his friend.

“And what were you trying to push into my locker,” you added. Usually you were not very intimidating, but being a year older than them had its perks: they had to respect you. Demanding, you held out your hand.

The boy with the blond streak in this dishevelled hair shot his friend a side glance before stepping forward and dropping the paper into your outstretched hand.

“Have you been the ones putting notes into my locker,” you asked.

“Yes, well, no. Maybe. Sometimes,” the boy with the buzzcut answered. Tanaka, you remembered.

“What is it now. Have you or have you not?”

“Sometimes,” the other one – Nuka? Nayo? Noya? Oh yes, Noya was his name – answered. “Sometimes we delivered them for our friend, when you had club late and there was the chance of you running into Su-“

He got interrupted by another shove between his ribs. He coughed.

Biting your lip, you twirled the paper between your fingers. You could find out who had sent you all these notes, you realized. You just had to ask now. Tanaka would probably be quiet, but Noya seemed eager to make you like whoever had sent them to deliver them. But did you want to know? Did you really want to go to class tomorrow, look at the person who had written these notes and pretend you didn’t know?

“Please,” Tanaka interrupted your thoughts. “Can’t you give our friend a chance? We know you like someone else, but you’ll forget about that guy in no time, I promise! Our friend is like- he’s the best guy there is really. He’s smart, and patient, and funny-”

“Charming, good-looking, athletic,” Noya continued. “A little chaotic sometimes maybe, but he has like the biggest heart-”

You shook your head. “Listen guys, Tanaka-kun, Noya-kun. I appreciate your effort and I know you just want to see your friend happy, but as I already wrote him: there is someone else I like, and it wouldn’t be right to let your friend hope that my feelings will change eventually. That’s just not fair.”

“But you should’ve seen him today during practice,” Noya continued. “He was not himself! He was devastated! And Suga’s ready to let you walk away because he respects you, but I- we think-”

“Wait, wait,” you lifted your hands in the air, signalling him to stop talking. Your heart was racing. “Say that again.”

“He respects you and-”

“No, you said his name,” you disagreed.

The boys exchanged glances.

“He’ll kill you,” Tanaka mumbled to Noya.

“Did you say Suga,” you asked.

Their silence was answer enough.

All this time you had wanted Suga to notice you and all this time it had been him who had sent you these notes? And then you had rejected him? Was that why he had been so pale today, why he hadn’t smiled at you today? Because you had rejected him, not even knowing who you had rejected? Your heart dropped and the floor felt like it was giving way beneath your feet. You had to fix that. Somehow you had to fix this stupid, stupid situation.

“Do you have a pen?”

Tanaka rummaged around in his pocket, before handing you a blunt pencil. You took it anyway. Unfolding the paper you had taken from Noya, you placed it against the closest locker, flipping it to its empty side.

“What’s Suga’s favourite onigiri filling,” you asked, glancing at Tanaka and Noya from over your shoulder.

“Salmon,” they answered at the same time without hesitation.

You furrowed your brows. “Are you sure?”

“We talked about it just the other day,” Tanaka assured you.

“He said, he likes them because you like them,” Noya added. You exhaled slowly, trying not to laugh. This sounded so much like something Suga would say.

Putting the pen down, you began writing.

“Noya and Tanaka ranted you out. Don’t be mad at them, I made them tell me. Let’s eat lunch together. I’ll make salmon onigiri, I know you like those. We can eat outside under the plum tree. The blossoms are your favourite, aren’t they?”

Quickly, before you could change your mind, you folded the paper, and pushed it into Suga’s locker, making the two boys exchange wide eyed glances.

“What did you write,” they asked excitedly as you returned to your locker to retrieve the book you had come here for.

“Are you giving him a second chance?”

“You’ll see,” you answered with a smile.

The next morning, Suga was already sitting in the classroom when you entered, like he did every morning. When he saw you sitting down behind your own desk, he quickly exchanged a few words with Daichi, before walking over.

Pink was dusting his cheeks, the colour almost matching that of the plum blossoms outside. He was nervous, you could tell, fiddling around with a piece of paper between his fingers. Watching him walk over, your own pulse spiked. Yesterday you had been filled with confidence when you had written the note, but today it all seemed unreal. That was until he dropped the small piece of paper on the desk in front of you, leaning against the table.

For a moment you looked up at him, his chocolate brown eyes nervous but also filled with warmth as he glanced down to you, then you reached for the paper. He had rolled it into a tight scroll, probably an act of nervosity while he had waited for you. For the first time the note didn’t contain any words, only a doodled Smilie. The smile on your face was instantaneous, and quickly you looked back up to Suga, who was full on blushing now.

“I know, I said I’d stop it with the notes, but…” he shrugged bashfully, making you laugh quietly.

“No, that’s okay,” you let him know.

“I do gotta ask though- not that I’m complaining, just curious – what changed your mind?”

He’s still smiling, but you could hear the insecurity in his voice as well.

Inhaling deeply, you settled for the truth. “Turned out the guy I rejected was actually the guy I was rejecting him for.”

Suga just furrowed his brows in confusion.

“What I mean is,” you shuffled in your seat a little, wondering if the words would come any easier if you sat differently or if Suga weren’t nailing you to the chair with the intensity with which he was considering you now. “You’re the guy I was talking about in that note, the person I like. I didn’t know you were also the person sending me these notes.”

Finally, the last bit of hesitation seemed to melt away from Suga. “Lucky then, that I like you, too,” he teased, making your heart stutter and his cheeks tint an even deeper pink. “Sooo, are we eating lunch together?"

You nodded. “I made onigiri, like promised. Is salmon really your favourite filling?”

Suga laughed. “Yeah, it is. Always has been, since I was little.”

He was about to say something else, but was interrupted by the teacher, calling the beginning of the class.

Quickly he pushed away from your desk, winking at you mischievously. This Suga was so very different from the disappointed, heartbroken Suga from yesterday. You knew exactly which one you preferred. He turned around and hurried back to his desk, but not before dropping another note to your table, this one folded several times.

As the teacher began the class, you quickly unfolded the paper under your desk, reading the few words Suga had written down. This time they were a lot neater than the note he had left with the rejected onigiri the day prior.

“I mean it. I really like you too.”

And underneath he had drawn a tiny, almost hesitant doodle of a heart.

these boots WEREN’T made for walking | m. izuku

cw: father! izu, reader and izu have two kids.

-reader and a pair of uncomfortable boots she begged for. if you all have seen friends, it’s based on that one time monica bought those expensive ass boots she could barely walk in lmao

“you’re not going to wear them,” izuku stated plainly, mouth forming a thin line as you held up a flashy pair of high heeled boots, much too tall for what you usually wear.

“am too. they can go with that dress i just got,” you smiled proudly, turning to scan the different sizes to accommodate for your own feet.

“that dress, yes, and what else?”

you paused your hand on one of the boxes, pursing your lips to think for a second but you were drawing serious blanks. you knew better than to look his way since he was probably raising those thick eyebrows of his, giving you that damned knowing look that always made you cave.

“what do you know about fashion anyway, deku?,” you huffed, squealing in victory when you saw they indeed had your size in stock.

it wasn’t that money was an issue, even if the boots were a whopping four hundred and fifty dollars, plus tax, but he knew you well. every time you got fancy shoes you wore them about two times max before chucking them somewhere in the depths of the closet to never again be seen with as a matching set. even you not wearing them wasn’t his biggest concern, you always chose shoes that hurt your feet, gave you horrible blisters and aches. it was a sad sight to say the least when he caught you limping around in his peripheral.

“i know that by the end of the night in those, you’re gonna be pouting for me to give you a piggy back ride because your feet hurt.”

“nope, you’re wrong,” you were busying yourself with pulling one of the boots onto your foot, zipping it up the calf and gaping in awe at the way it sucked you in like a glove, “these are extremely comfortable. i love them…god if i could marry a shoe.”

izu held up his hands in surrender, not that he was going to fight long on the topic of giving you whatever your heart desired. he aimed to please, liked watching you smile.

he had to give you your props, almost every day you had managed a way to worm your new boots into your outfits. you were stubborn, sometimes enough to even best kacchan, and you were determined to prove you could milk the money’s worth out of these boots. izu chose to pick his battles, even when he came home from a tiring day of hero work just to see you vacuuming the living room in heels. it was cute, really, how hard you tried to make your point, and he let it play out without rebuttal. truth of the matter is, you were starting to hit your peak, heels burning and ankles aching from the amount of times you had twisted them from tripping when your husband wasn’t around. you’d hate for the bastard to be right, he was always so smug when he was. so you put on brave faces and strutted around in your prize, until you were out of eye sight so you could wince in peace.

there were bruises forming on the knuckles of your toes, cramps taunting your soles every time you flexed your feet too graciously. it was getting about that time for these death traps to hit the back of your closet. you just hated the idea of giving izuku the satisfaction of his win, that and you didn’t want to put his hard earned money to waste. it was a constant nag in the back of your brain. you knew he’d never tell you no (not really anyway) and he had spoiled you heavily with the fruits of his labor from the moment the currency started pouring in. it was why you couldn’t help but ask for things, and he wanted you to have everything, even if he teased you about it being a ridiculous purchase. but anxiety was still a bitch. you had to show these shoes love, it was like- in your mind- being extra grateful for his generosity.

your final straw was a long walk in the park. foolishly you had slipped on the horrid boots, they went well with your attire. izu warned against it, told you it sounded like a dumb idea when you were going to have to chase your three year old down, but you only shut him up with a kiss, giving him a twirl to show off your outfit. park days were rare, but when the family could get a chance to go out, izu pushed for it. he hated extended periods of time away from you and the two little ones, aika and a beautiful baby boy, nix. he wished he never had to leave or at least that he could shrink his perfect pack and put them in his pocket for safe keeping.

it was nice outside, the coos of spring rolling in, flowers blooming and spreading their plumes of pollen into the air. you were taking a well needed rest on a bench, shaded by the bright green rooftop of a gazebo. your feet were screaming from the confines of your shoes, but you bit back complaints as you pushed the two seater stroller back and forth. your son was sleeping soundly, tiny fists clutching onto his teether for dear life. just a few feet ahead on the playground, your tall tree of a husband was pushing at your daughters back, sending her way higher than you would have liked on the swing set. the little one seemed to love it though, screaming in delight as perfect green curls flowed in the wind. she enjoyed his strength and his supernatural abilities, it only meant getting to be spun around or pushed high into the sky in a rickety swing set, a height many three year olds would probably have a fit at. though maybe it was just her love and admiration for her papa, she knew even at a young age, he’d never let her fall. nothing was scary when izuku was around.

perceptive as ever, izu cast you a look as if he could feel you staring. he greeted you with a dimpled grin and a wave to which you giggled. he was such a dork and it always amazed you how easily that switch could flip when he was in the midst of battle.

when aika grew tired of all the playground had to offer and was clipped into her side of the stroller, already dozing off and quiet, you and izu marked it time to head home. except, the long way home seemed like a hike through hell now that your feet were throbbing and swollen, still, you stood from the bench your thighs were glued to, outwardly whining. you stumbled slightly, catching ahold of your husband’s bicep with a huff.

“love, just take off the boots already.” his voice was stern, guiding you to sit back down, kneeling before you like a knight off duty.

you pouted, “i’m fine, ‘zu, let’s just go-“

“y/n. now.” he patted his thigh for your heel to be kicked up on, using his ‘father voice’ no less.

you did as told with each foot, watching as he careful undid the boots, sliding them off and tossing them into the stroller pouch. you slumped in relief, cool air from outside feeling so nice on your clammy skin. he sucked his teeth in disappointment at the sight of your battle scars, shaking his head at your stubbornness.

“i can’t walk home barefoot, babe.”

he gave a slight turn, offering his back to you, “don’t be dense. i’ll carry you home. hop on.”

it was probably a sight to see to others that the number one hero was walking the length of the sidewalk with a double stroller to his front and his wife clinging to his back like a feral koala. you had you face nuzzled in his neck, taking in the honeyed pine scent of his shampoo, legs wrapped snugly around his waist. he wasn’t even struggling, or breaking a sweat for that matter, just walking as if he was carrying nothing more than a backpack. another marvel of his strength.

“you know,” he started, voice vibrating through you, “i was only giving you a hard time about the shoes. i didn’t actually expect you to wear them so much.”

you absentmindedly toyed with the small chain around his neck, it seemed almost dainty on him, but it was so beautiful with the way your named was carved in cursive on the base.

“i didn’t want them to go to waste…you paid so much for them.” you didn’t mean to sound so dejected, but it was the truth, “i wanted you to know i actually do appreciate all you do.”

he chuckled softly, “silly girl. i know you do. just the way you should know i love gifting you things. i can’t think of a better use of my money.”

“still. it was an awful lot for a pair of boots.”

“baby. if i could, i’d buy you the whole milky way wrapped in a silk bow, even if it meant you would only look at it once. your happiness is the only repayment i need.”

your ears heated from his words, unable to respond. you chose to tighten your arms around him. so he continued to speak.

“gifts, money, hell- i’d give you every organ i have in me. nothing i do is transactional. you’re worth every penny.”

“you’re such a sap.” you choke out, cursing your hormones for the tears brimming your eyes.

“by association. i think that makes you a sap too, yes?”

“no. no just you, broccoli top. just you.”

you were totally a sap when it came to izuku midoriya.

fruit bats: @neon-gothicc @bakubunny @bookcluberror @kunigamisgirl @dizazter-dragoon @jazzafayesworld @cherriluvs35 @dreamcastgirl99 @pastelbakugou @ladybirdk @i-literally-cant-with-this @darkstarlight82 @maddietries

this is for your prompt game- word count: 800

human!alastor whos starts to feel a bit guilty when he sees his darling worry about him after hearing about the various murders near his studio. maybe some cuddling after alastor comes home especially late, and reader freaks out?

tyy!!

Nothing on This Earth

tags: human! alastor x human! fem! reader, established relationship, alastor and reader are married, anxious reader, fluff, very mild angst note: This was such a cute request to fulfill, I had a really fun time with it :) I hope you enjoy, anon <3

"And in some rather frightening news, the police have revealed the recent discovery of yet another body, this one found partially buried just outside city limits, mere miles in fact, from this very radio station that I'm broadcasting live to you from now. Presently, the authorities have yet to reveal the identity of the poor soul, but he is believed to be yet another victim of our infamous NOLA killer."

Alastor hummed a popular tune as he made his way across the walkway that led from the drive to the house that he and his wife shared.

From outside, he could hear the oh-so familiar static of the radio as his late night replacement droned on and on endlessly between the evenings pre-selected songs.

With a marked lack of haste or impatience, Alastor listened on vaguely to the words his coworker spoke, scarcely paying them any mind as his long legs carried him casually along the stone path and toward the steps of the house.

Instinctively, his hand reached into his pocket as he grew closer to his destination, long fingers seeking the familiar chill of cool metal until they finally found what they were feeling for, allowing for him to properly grasp his keys between them.

Humming the same pleasant tune as before, the radio host smiled to himself as he slowly ascended the three wooden steps that led creakily up to the deck, upon which the front door could be clearly seen.

Quietly, his shoes tapped against the old wood as he made his way closer, the keys in his pocket jingling familiarly as he moved to pull them out.

Still clearly in no rush, Alastor moved casually as he raised the now slightly warmed metal of his house key to its empty socket.

Much to his surprise though, the brass device had only just grazed the mechanism containing the deadbolt lock when the door swung inward quickly, revealing quite the alarming sight on the other side.

There you stood, his darling wife, all wrapped up in that slightly sheer white robe of yours that his mother had gifted you for your wedding, arms crossed and expression fixed firmly into a frown.

If he hadn't known any better, perhaps Alastor may have even believed you angry at him, your jaw clenched and your eyebrows furrowed just so.

But, of course, as your ever so observant husband, he did know better.

He could see the anxiety hidden behind that veil of vexation as clear as day, made obvious by the constant shifting of your gaze and the way you nibbled at your lip.

Wordlessly, your love reached forward, pulling your trapped flesh from between your worrying teeth, his ring finger tilting your chin upward as he did so.

"Why hello there, my doe."

He all but purred as he stepped swiftly inside, his ankle moving to kick the door closed behind him.

"How very kind of you to wait at the entrance for me. Although, I do have to wonder," He began, leaning down toward you so that his breath fanned across your lips, "What a lovely, delicate creature such as yourself is doing up so late."

He teased, pressing a quick kiss to your mouth before pulling away and turning around to shrug off and hang his jacket.

"I was worried about you."

At those words, Alastor halted all movement immediately before his brow quirked and he spun on his heel, grin wide.

"Worried about me?" He asked incredulously, both of his hands finding yours before offering them a squeeze of reassurance. "Whatever for, my dear?"

You swallowed thickly, your words becoming caught in your throat as if the sheer weight of them were too much to manage.

"There's a killer on the loose, Al." You said fearfully, your returned grip on his hands tightening as you spoke.

"So when you're out so late like this, I can't help but think-" You paused there, as if unable to finish that thought for fear of it coming true.

Regardless, it seemed that Alastor understood your worries plenty.

He squeezed your hands once more.

"Oh chère," He all but crooned, "You're very sweet to worry, but I promise you that I am in no danger." As he said this, you felt him start to pull you in closer, until finally, you were chest to chest.

You sighed wearily, leaning into your love's touch almost instinctively in spite of your concerns. "But how can you be so sure, Al? There's no telling when or where-"

"My dear," Your husband interrupted gently as he began to sway the two of you rhythmically in time with the jazz that was now flowing through the speakers of your radio, "I can assure you that as long as I have my wife to come home to..." He paused to tuck a few stray hairs behind your ear, his gaze upon you filled with an almost overwhelming adoration as he did so,

"There is nothing on this earth that could keep me away from her."

Save Me

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

warning: violence n blood but happy ending

“Summon your blue blood master, whore.”

The demon carelessly drops your phone into the cage and it lands at your knees. You don’t remember if this was a ransom or a hit on your beloved. You can’t bring yourself to care because you know the minute he sees you in this state, none of it will matter.

Your tongue darted out and swiped over your cracked lips, gathering the copper taste of your own blood. The chuckle that you let out is dry, cut short by a cough that worsens the state of your throat. It highlighted the bruises littering your skin, especially those you couldn’t see.

He would.

“This is gonna end real badly f’you.” You tell the demon hoarsely, offering them the biggest, meanest smile you could muster.

Your thumb hits the call button without hesitation.

You hadn’t even uttered a single word.

Immediately the energy in the warehouse shifts. An undeniable chill crept in suddenly and seemed to chase off any light the windows provided. Someone may as well have thrown a blanket over the building. If not for your phone providing a faint glow, you wouldn’t have been able to see your labored breaths leaving your lips. Simultaneously, the shitty bones of the warehouse trembled, quietly at first then ramping up to a deafening sound that surely meant it would collapse at any moment. It wouldn’t. Not while you were there. Even if it was only your body for him to collect, no damage would come unto you by his doing.

The demon’s eyes narrow in suspicion, like whatever was happening was your fault and yours alone. Your crooked smile widens into a malicious forewarning for what’s to come. The grin pulls and tears the cut on your lip that had only just stitched itself together, stinging you in retaliation. You’re certain the light illuminating you from below, combined with the blood, has you looking positively mad.

“Told you.”

Lucifer was more than a king; he was the judge, jury and executioner for his subjects. It wasn’t often they forgot it but should they do something drastic, such as stealing his beloved, then he would make an example out of as many souls necessary. You knew this and you knew it well— you’ve been around every century or so when the newer sinners needed a refresher. This just so happened to be your first time being directly involved in why.

It must be then that the harrowing realization finally sets in. They’ve bit off more than they could swallow and now it was going to choke the life out of them. Or, more accurately, he would.

Apparently determined to get in what would surely be their final reprisal, they reached into the cage and yanked you forward by your neck. Your forehead quickly meets an icy bar, sending pain ringing through your skull in greeting. Trapped, a mangled cry rips through the room that you don’t recognize is your own. You writhe in the demon’s grip, struggling to claw at their wrists and face. Tearing at their skin, trying to make them even in wounds more than you’re trying to escape, you manage a particularly good swipe at their eyes that makes them reel back. In their stubbornness, they refuse to release you and your face is squished against the cage as they stumble and crash.

No, you realize. They were flung clear across the room like an unwanted doll, landing in, what was now, a pile of wood. Familiar eyes of ruby and gold steal your attention from the groaning demon. You blink furiously, forcing your vision to tell you true. Of course you knew he would come for you, that was never in question, but whether you would be alive or not for that rescue did cross your mind. Your body had already begun to relax, melting with the comforting warmth of your beloved’s presence. Lucifer’s gasp is rigid, his voice trembling in disbelief and rising fury but he manages a soft tone just for your sake.

“Oh, angel. My sweet, sweet dove. I’m here now, I’m here. I’m so sorry.”

Metal creaks under his palms but it takes less effort than opening a jar of marmalade. He’s obscenely gentle while plucking you out of the cage, acutely aware of the way your breath hitches at his touch. Those aforementioned bruises pulse with vigor, spreading a dull ache all over your body. Just as you suspected, Lucifer's eyes roamed all over counting each and every one. He’ll return the favor tenfold.

One minute Lucifer’s holding onto a fraying thread of mercy, studying your precious face and stealing the apple of your cheek. The next he feels tears slide under the pad of his thumb, swiping them into nothingness like he wished he could do your pain. Your relief is palpable in them, he can taste it on his tongue with hints of your fading fear. His golden pupils get smaller and smaller until they’re consumed entirely by red.

Logically he knows you’re right there in his arms but your weight isn’t grounding enough for him. He can’t see you anymore. All he can see is the ugly blotches that some pitiful excuse for future kindling dared to taint you with. Clearly they knew who you were and how important you were to the King of Hell, so the consequences of taking and hurting you had been glossed over but accepted nonetheless. An act against you is no less treasonous than an act against Lucifer himself; to spit at your feet would be to do the same to him.

“You’ve got guts to pull off a stunt like that, huh?” A terrifying grin cracks unevenly across his face and is shot over his shoulder at the demon that was struggling to pick themselves up. “Let’s see ‘em.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and shield your face from a gust of wind. Upon opening them you realize you’re sitting on the ground alone. Lucifer unfurled his wings and launched himself over to the demon. They made it to their feet only to be launched into the wall and leaving a them-sized crater behind. Horrified and paralyzed you could only watch as Lucifer hovered over them, cocking back both fists and hurling them forward one at a time.

“I think there was one there, there— oh can’t forget here!”

Even while knowing what was to come, it still made your stomach lurch to see it firsthand. Teeth clattered to the ground in one punch, another and the demon’s eye was swollen shut. You were positive what Lucifer blocked with his body, the savagery you couldn’t see, was much worse. It shouldn’t bother you, not with how long you’ve lived down here but having blood on your hands, no matter how indirectly, made your stomach lurch.

“Luci—“ You croaked, your throat closing in on itself when you tried to speak. It was as if your body had sided with your beloved’s vengeance.

However the tiny sound managed to put a stutter in Lucifer’s next blow, his knuckles halting just before the demon’s face. A frustrated snarl rips from him and cracks through the silence like thunder, but the storm in him quiets before he turns to you. Wracked by guilt more than rage, your beloved can’t fully face you.

You try again, “Can we—“ only to be cut off by a cough.

“Stop—stopstopstop,” Lucifer whispers, voice getting closer, louder, “I’m here, I’m here. Don’t… don’t hurt yourself.”

True to his word, he’s right there. All it took was a blink and he’s kneeling before you, hovering his hands all over as if he’s not sure where to touch you. How can he comfort you when you’re bruised all over? You force yourself to continue, knowing he’ll keep his focus with you if you do.

“Jus’ wanna go home.”

Lucifer’s demonic features flare, hesitation on the tip of his tongue. Unfinished business never seemed like an issue before. With the bewildered look he gave you, you may as well have asked him to throw out his entire duck collection. The thought of using your voice again made your throat itch so you beseech him with your eyes, pinching your brows together and turning them up.

Scrunching his face once more he sighed heavily, seemingly defeated as his horns shrunk back into his skull and his tail retreated. Then your Lucifer returned to you at last, smiling softly, though guilt and regret swam in his crimson eyes.

“Home it is. Agh, I hate when you use your secret weapon against me. It’s not fair, I mean, how am I supposed to resist this face?”

You try to keep your own smile from spreading too far, opting instead to squeeze the man close to you to share in your joy. Lucifer was starving to do the same, holding you as close as he could without stressing your wounds. You could feel him inhale against your neck like you were air to him, filling him with relief and the ability to carry on.

When he pulled away you grew worried, especially when his smile dropped and he turned ever so slightly to the bloodied and battered demon.

“Congratulations, peasant, you’ve been pardoned. Courtesy of the King of Hell and his angel— who you will never ever even think of again. Right?” There was a pained groan from the demon that sent a dark chuckle bubbling up from Lucifer’s chest, “I thought you might agree. Do me a favor and spread the word? I’d rather not do this again. You know what I mean?”

There was a sharp edge to his grin for a moment too long but it faded by the time he eagerly returned his attention to you. The portal below whirred to life with a faint hum and sent pulses of warmth up into the air. You were completely and utterly wrapped up in your beloved that you hardly noticed. Lucifer mumbled into your hair how he would kiss your “boo-boos”, get you bandaged up and in pajamas in no time.

Hearing that, it was a liiittle hard to believe he was the same man that was seconds away from slaughtering someone for you.

~

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ thanks for voting everyone!

Nightmare Catcher = Requested

[Alastor | Vox | Lucifer x Nightmare!Reader] - separate

The Request

Alastor, The Radio Demon

Alastor’s a light sleeper or he doesn’t sleep. You do and he doesn’t find fault in that. He’d sit on his side of the bed with a book in hand or some times he’ll be writing in a notebook gifted by you for some broadcasting ideas, all while the his bedstand’s lamp is on at the lowest possible lighting

He’s notice you groaning and shifting in your sleep. The shifting was normal, but not the groaning and the way your face crunched up in distress. His eyes turn to you and observes for a while before muttering soft, “Dear? My darling?”

You don’t reply but the groaning and shifting continues

Now that he’s positive you’re having a nightmare, he’ll try to wake you up as gently as possible to not freak you out too much. Probably nudging you or shaking you awake

If you wake up, like snap awake, he’ll apologize for waking you and explain you were groaning and shifting more than usual. He doesn’t ask if you have a nightmare, he’ll let you say it to him. Either way, he’ll reassure you the same. Whatever you dreamed wouldn’t happen to you. Whoever was trying to cause you harm wouldn’t be able to come near you. 

He’ll be there to protect you 

If you don’t wake up, he’ll put away his stuff and lay down next to you, turning off the lights. As gently and smoothly as he could, he’ll wrap his arms around your waist and hold you close to him. Adjusting you so you’d be listening to his heartbeat while his hand patted the back of your head

His humming calms you down and you unconsciously latch onto him too

When you wake up the next day, neither of you will talk about it unless you bring it up. Otherwise, Alastor will comment how he had another lovely night with you and the two of you would make breakfast together

Vox, The TV Demon

Here’s a question. How do you sleep with a demon with a TV for a head?

Funny thing. Vox doesn’t sleep on a bed, he sits in a very very comfortable giant chair without any hard surfaces and sleeps like that

Now you don’t do that. Nope. You sleep on the bed

So when you have a nightmare? You wake up in a cold sweat and looked around. You got your barings hugging a pillow and wrapped your blanket around you for comfort. You mutter Vox’s name, hoping he hears you somewhere since you didn’t know if he was awake or asleep

If he was awake, he’d catch your name calling and zap through the technology to your room. “What’s wrong? There an intruder?”

You hug onto him, still wrapped up but your pillow was discarded. While he hates dealing with childish acts (Valentino), you were an exception

He brings you back to the bed and has you comfortable before asking what’s wrong. Whether you tell him or not, he plays you funny videos on his TV screen to lighten you up or music to calm you down until your eyes get droopy and you yawn. He stays by your side until you sleep, he silently works beside you though

If he was asleep. Haha. Good luck. Oh, not you, it’s Vox. If it’s one thing he doesn’t like people seeing it was his sleeping form. Because he shuts down, with a black screen and all that. He has like a fixed schedule set to wake up after shutting down

Still, he gave you a special code to his quarters when you need to come. You wrapped up in your blanket and hugging your pillow tip-toed to Vox’s room. On the way, you’d be debate whether to go or not. You went

You poked his screen first, he doesn’t wake up. His chair was big and comfty, matching that of a bed’s. So you got comfortable on Vox’s lap, leaning on his chest with your ears on top of where his heart would be, your pillow on the armrest to cushion your back then you covered the both of you in the giant blanket

You kissed the side of his face (screen) and said night. Slowly falling asleep

Next day, Vox thought Valentino or Velvette played a prank on him. Imagine his surprise to find you on his lap peacefully asleep. He checked last night’s CCTV to make sure you weren’t in danger, just a nightmare, he bets

But he delays his schedules and shows just to enjoy you on his lap

(a full day of work was gone and Vox got a vacation from taking care of Valentino)

Lucifer, The King of Hell

I swear he’s the one with nightmares- But this time it was you with the nightmares

He immediately stirs when you shift too much, even getting warmer to the point that he felt like he was hugging a heater. He wake up and notice immediately you’re having a nightmare

He copies what you do for him. Wake you up gently and holds your cheeks so you’d be focusing on him. “Look at me, My Apple. You’re safe with me.”

He leads you to do a breathing exercise with him, when you were done and more calm, his forehead connects with yours. He asks if you want to talk about, since he felt better when you listened to him, he offers the same to you

You nodded

Lucifer immediately starts snapping his fingers, conjuring so much familiar objects and items. They were all your favourites. From comfort items, entertainment, food and even drinks. He spared no expenses for you

His goofy attitude lightened you up and you almost forget about the nightmare. Still though, you tell him

Midway, he summons his wings and wrap you around with them, a comforting reminder that he was there with you. You comb your hands through his wings, even leaning against them with a comforted sigh

Lucifer laid you back down, this time with his wings as the blanket and his chest as the pillow. He sings softly to lull you to sleep, humming after you were sleeping until he was positive you were dead asleep, then he’ll sleep

Next morning? He surprises you with a day at his Lu Lu Land. He’s such a goof ball you can’t resist him

Note: Ha! There! How you like this? Next try on Vox actually. Surprised I got more to write for him than I imagine. I thought he'd have the least content

Circe Y.

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