Headcannon, That If Something Happened To Upset Them, There Would Be More People To Comfort Deku Than

Headcannon, that if something happened to upset them, there would be more people to comfort Deku than Katsuki.

Words. 1.0k~

Notes. I'm sorry I always write bakugou so sad, but hey, it gets me the notes. I hope this makes up for not posting much bakugou content in awhile.

Several years after his unexpected retirement, the crushing death of All Might shook the world once again.

It was no quiet affair, people from all around the globe came together to pay their respects for the fallen hero. His loyal students made certain that everything the Symbol of Peace sacrificed for the people he loved would never be forgotten.

Standing amongst the hundreds of solemn people dressed in black like ants at his funeral, made you realize just how small and insignificant you really are.

The selfless actions of one man led to the gratitude and inspiration of so many when he did everything in his power to leave this world, better than it was when he first came into it.

While you didn't know him personally, you met him through your friends from high school. Sweet, bubbly Midoriya who you went to school with, would never miss an opportunity to ramble on and on about his childhood hero.

Seeing him grieve now made a wave of sadness envelop your heart in a choke hold. His regularly bright, emerald eyes that held all the worlds hope in them, glistened with shed and unshed tears.

The great Symbol of Peace's successor wept for his fallen mentor, along with his friends who mourned with him.

Rain began to pour from the skies as you moved to join them. A melancholy smile worked its way onto your face at the irony. It seemed as if the heavens itself lamented at the loss.

You silently thanked the weatherman for being accurate in his predictions for once as you unfolded your umbrella.

The others around you did the same, some deciding that it was a sign to leave and retreated to their cars. Looking around, you paused when you caught sight of one figure hunched over near the lavishly decorated tomb for the hero.

The distinct ash blonde head was unmistakable, and you noticed that his usually annoyingly sharp and messy hair was drooping sadly from the downpour and lack of an umbrella.

You spared a glance at Midoriya to see that he was not covered by just one, but multiple umbrellas from several people over his place on the ground. Even Kirishima and the rest of his closer friends were standing with him.

While Midoriya had more than a handful of people to rub his back comfortingly and murmurer reassuring words to him, ― you realized that no one seemed to notice just how hard it was on the #2 hero.

Everyone seemed to have forgotten that Deku was not the only hero mentored by their beloved champion.

He looked so fucking alone — abandoned.

Suddenly, you wanted to slap yourself for not noticing earlier. His dark clothes befitting the occasion were soaked through from the rain and stuck uncomfortably to his skin, and you didn't miss the way his shoulders shook with silent shudders.

It made you almost uncomfortable to see him like this, with his usual attitude, it felt utterly wrong to watch someone like him look so broken.

Even if offering to assist did get your ass hurled into the outer reaches of space, you couldn't sit idly by and watch him suffer like this.

You moved to make your way to him when he suddenly collapsed onto his knees. Startled, you hurried your pace, your breath catching in your throat when you saw the state he was in.

His hand was curled tightly in his hair in a way that looked painful, he looked up suddenly when you moved your umbrella over him. Your grip on it tightens when you see his eyes all glossy and red with tears, it makes the carmine of his irises look dull and lifeless.

Water runs in rivulets down the sides of his face, a mix of droplets falling from his hair and streaks of tears you couldn't really tell apart.

It made your chest hurt to see him like this as you carefully kneeled down next to him. How could you have not noticed earlier? You can only imagine how this whole situation must be eating up at him. You didn't know him as well as your other friends, but you've spent enough time with him to know just how much he looked up to the former symbol of peace.

His eyes never left yours as you both watched each other in silence. It seemed he couldn't even find it in himself to look angry at you for bothering him. He sounded so horribly fragile and on the verge of breaking down when he spoke, "What do you want, huh?" His voice cracked and he pulled tighter at his hair, "Shouldn't you be with Deku?"

A sudden cough racked through his body and that seemed to unleash another load of tears from his tired eyes. You watched him carefully and reached out to gently pry his hand from where it was twisted in his unruly hair.

It was rough with scars and trembled sorrowfully in your grasp and you squeezed it in what you hoped was a reassuring manner. He gasped out one last sob and met your eyes again.

"Oh Bakugou, it's ok to feel sad right now. I'm gonna be right here if you need me."

Bakugou stared at you, he looked terribly beautiful and miserable at the same time, and you swore that you would do anything too never see such an expression on his face ever again.

His lips trembled and you thought he was going to say something when a sudden tremble shook through his body, and he chocked out another sob. His head drooped towards you almost violently, and you dropped your umbrella. Pulling him towards you and holding him on your arms as he gripped at your smaller figure tightly. Like you would crumble to dust before him if he let go.

The rain seeped through your black funeral gown and chilled your skin, but you only clutched him tighter. You would hold him as long as he needs. Until he feels whole again, until you never had to see his pretty red eyes look so dead ever again.

Your heart ached for the broken hero in your arms under a crying sky.

More.

CN Lucifer x reader. Fluff. Bit of angst. No major trigger warnings.

He stared at his own name, a rumble in his stomach and a distinct pressure deep in the back of his skull signaling yet another headache. He'd been staring for a while, sick of the way the lines of his handwriting curved and flattened out, curved and flattened out.

If he had to sign one more paper, open one more file, he'd throw it all away and walk to the other end of the Devildom.

At least, that's what Lucifer dreamt about as he sighed and finally continued his work.

Lucifer Morningstar. Stamp. Lucifer Morningstar. Stamp. Lucifer Morningstar. Stamp.

It was the easiest part of his day and yet the most tedious. It left room for thinking. Contemplating. Yearning.

Room for the idea of more than a life bound to a desk, his quill his best friend, coffee his most important partner.

Because while Lucifer was known for his work ethic, praised for his accomplishments, admired for his discipline - millennia of work were not what he had always pictured for himself.

Sure. He couldn't really help it. Between his Pride, his oath to the Prince and the havoc his brothers wrought - what choice did he have?

But sometimes, in moments of quiet like this, he wondered what it would be like. To have some free time. To not have the highlight of his day be the glass of demonus and a few mellow tunes from a cursed record right before bed.

Speaking of quiet... Why was the HOL so still? The only sound to be heard the crackling of fire - and the knock on his door.

"You may come in." A knot of anxiety formed in his stomach: Would it be Mammon bringing in more dept? Or Satan bringing in more guilt? Might it be Barbatos with another stack of paperwork?

The knot was quickly untied by little bats, fluttering about within him, as you stuck your head into his study.

"They're all in their rooms, studying...or pretending to", you proclaimed, knowing very well he was expecting bad news.

"I thought you could use a break."

Your soft smile was all Lucifer needed to snap out of his misery. At least for now.

"Do you want to go into town with me? There's this flea market that should be open for another few hours."

He looked down at the last two documents that required his signature. Maybe there could be more. Maybe just a bit.

At least, he could see a flimmer of it in your eyes, as you beckoned him to join you.

Journals

I wanted to write my thoughts on how and why they'd keep a journal. I wanted to do most of them at once but I just finished Mammon's and it's 00:26am I really wanna sleep but I'm equally excited to share it so i'll link the rest of them later.

Lucifer

“Dear Lilith,”

His journal is handmade by a well-known bookbinder in the Devildom and he enchanted it so only he could open it as long as he is alive. He takes the time to write in it daily, in between two pieces of paperwork or at the end of the day. He prefers to be alone when he does because he gets emotional but if he is comfortable enough with you he’d appreciate it if you laid beside him and put your head on his lap while he strokes your head. He writes as if he was going to send a letter to his little sister; always starts with “Dear Lilith,” or “Beloved sister,” and never ends it, as in he doesn’t sign it or finish with a formula; it relieves him from the burden thought that he cannot send it to anyone, anywhere.

He dearly remembers meaningful events from his life; like the annoying’s exchange student arrival in the Devildom or his first kiss with that very same loved individual, so he only talks about the mundane in his entries. He talks about his brothers’ shenanigans and achievements throughout their immortal life. The afternoon Levi flooded the whole house by summoning Lotan and how Levi looked like a kicked puppy after realizing the mess he made out of the house. The way Mammon carefully enters his room and takes comfort in curling up next to his big brother when he has a nightmare, despite denying it all every morning when it happens. That’s where he externalizes his gentler side and soft spot for his brothers. He talks so fondly of them every night, no matter how disastrous or problematic they made his day; that’s maybe why he hasn’t cursed them in a timeless loop yet.

Mammon

”Dear Goldie,”

He occasionally writes in it, probably in a digital journal. He has a racing mind and despite being quite gifted in terms of hand skills, he isn’t a fast writer on the paper. Not only does he has a racing mind but since you came along, more often than not he finds himself with a racing heart in front of the screen. You can be assured he did talk about your first kiss, and if you squint you can find hints of his undying love for you long before you even developed feelings for him. He repertories every first times with you, and he is minutious about it. The way you smiled at him, hold him, and over all the way you make him feel even when you’re not around; he cherishes every memory he has of you. He types all his feelings out with shaky hands, every so often rolling over, and hiding his flushed face in a pillow.

He initially talks about his money schemes and wins and, more often than he’d ever admit it, he writes one paragraph or two about his brothers and the Purgatory boys. He mostly sounds like a sad teenage girl. That’s where he pours out everything he doesn’t show or say to them especially when they’re ruthless with him. It’s not all sorrow and worries in his journal. He notices the sweet treats made and gifted by little chubby hands in his room, and a clumsy note about how “devilish and inappropriate” it is to stay out the whole evening and night. He surely takes the time to write about the restful nap he took with Belphie and Luke under a tree after a family picnic. He will not fail to remember Asmo’s delighted expression when they managed to get the last pink-cherry-devil smoothie after driving all around the Devildom for hours.

He Knows

GN!MC X Obey Me characters

Lucifer knows - that he should restrain himself. That he's smiling too much, too openly around you. That the day he lays definite claim on you, the chaos in the house will be enough to set it on fire.

That the closest he can be to you is behind closed doors, when you are sitting next to him, helping him verify documents and applications from the Student Council. He knows and yet his hand reaches for yours as you are about to leave.

"Why don't you stay the night here, MC?"

💫

Mammon knows - that you deserve so much more than him. That he keeps calling himself Great in hopes that he'll someday believe himself. That you're one bad day away from your seemingly endless patience running out.

That right even though, you're looking at him as if you'll never love anyone else now, it might just be temporary. Yet, he sinks his head deeper into your lap and mumbles softly.

"Being your first enough. Make me your last too, MC, please."

💫

Leviathan knows - that he's being selfish. That you're constantly sacrificing your own desires to meet his and he's not stopping you. That your little finger is worth more than his entire existence and you're endlessly kind to give him even a minute of your precious time.

That even though you're sitting here laughing and nudging him, you deserve to be with people who can match your dazzling energy. He knows and yet he turns to look at you with his sheepish smile you like.

"Want a play a few more rounds, MC?"

💫

Satan knows - that he's one of the biggest threats to your life in the house. That no matter how hard he represses his rage, it will always be utterly destructive when it comes out. That you're the last person he wants to hurt. That it might only take one wrong move to harm your fragile body beyond repair.

That even though you look so content leaning on him as you read from the same book, he'd much rather lock himself away to keep you safe. And yet, he lets you rest your head on his shoulder, running his fingers through your hair.

"You can lean in closer if it makes you comfortable, MC."

💫

Asmodeus knows - that his beauty is useless when it comes to you. That your soul shines much brighter than his ever did. That no matter how much his improves his night-time skin routine, he can never really charm you the way he can do with others.

That his heart beats faster when you merely touch his cheek and tell him how cute he looks blushing. That even though you call him gorgeous no matter, his beauty alone won't be enough. Yet he keeps dressing up for you, twirling for you as you cheer him on.

"Keep looking at me, MC."

💫

Beelzebub knows - that his hunger will one day be a nuisance to you. That you learned to eat less so you can push more of your food onto his plate. That he might end up eating a good amount of human world food that was meant especially for you. That your stomach often roars softly in class because you gave him your lunch.

That despite all that you still smile excitedly when it's your turn to cook, proudly an extra large batch to fill his appetite. And yet, he lets you feed him with your hands, getting extra large plates so there's always enough left for you.

"Now it's my turn to feed you, MC. Say ahh."

💫

Belphegor knows - that he can never truly be redeemed. That you are far too forgiving for your own good and he hates taking advantage of that. That he can't deny it when you so nonchalantly offer your shoulder for him to sleep on. That he can't give up on this escapist bliss and bring himself to apologise for that night.

That he tries to fall asleep before you because he gets afraid if he stares at your closed eyes for too long. That when you fall asleep next to him, he often checks your neck for your pulse and the hideous marks of his sin. Yet he curls up closer, offering his pillow for you to share.

"You can lay next to me whenever you're tired, MC."

The secretary confirms your name, checking you into your appointment and sucks in a tight breath.

"What's wrong?" you ask, worried you might be here on the wrong day or at the wrong time.

"Nothing," he gently assures you and tries to smile, "I just noticed your appointment is with Dr. Shirabu."

"Oh...Is that bad?" You drop your voice and the secretary starts to shake his head but then sighs.

"He's a brilliant doctor. One of our best really, but..." He glances around. "He's got a bit of a nickname.... Stone-face."

It doesn't take much to figure out why.

As he delivers your diagnosis his features don't emote. His voice stays even, his posture proper, and his eyes flat.

His words bounce around your mind causing pain with each hit as understanding echoes distantly in the protective disassociation.

All you can see is his face.

His golden hair looks soft as if it would tickle your hands like the tassels on tall grass. His brow has the slightest downturn over neutral eyes and as you fight to accept the horror he just delivered you realize that yes. He's stone-faced. But he's not

...cold.

"Thank you, Dr. Shirabu."

His brow dips, threatening to frown. "For what?"

"I just...I can't imagine news like this is easy to deliver." You swallow back the tears fighting to get out. "And it's got to be nerve-wracking each time."

"It's..." He was going to say fine, you can tell. But something shifts between you in the small room and some wall drops. His emotionless exterior becomes a little more revealing. "Just part of the job."

You nod, not trusting your voice to speak.

Dr. Shirabu waits patiently. "Do you...have any questions?"

"Not, uh," you clear your throat, "not right now but I will."

He nods. After a moment he pulls a pen from his shirt pocket and flips a page of your paperwork. "Just call me directly when you're ready to ask."

"Thanks," you mumble, accepting the papers. Glancing at the number you notice "it's your cellphone?"

"Yes," he turns away with a little cough and successfully hides the pink on his cheeks.

He doesn't know how to tell you that he trusts you won't abuse it. He's given other patients his desk line before but never his cellphone, not that you need to know. It's just...he feels a foreign need to be available for you...to answer any questions to might have...to really be there for you.

Is this how doctors feel about all their patients?

He's not sure.

But after one conversation all he knows is that he wants to be there for you.

"The volleyball team doesn't have parties." Your eyes narrow at your friend. "To be fair no one at this school really has parties but least of all the volleyball team...What kind of prank are you trying to pull?"

"I'm not. But since they lost the inter-high and they're not going to nationals..." he leans over his side of the library table and drops his voice, "...the guess monster convinced the other third years to host a...thing...I don't know, something! Before we all graduate."

You roll your eyes. "He has a name."

"I know," snips your friend. He watches your gaze drop back to your book, picking up notes where you left off. "Well?"

"Well what?" you ask without looking up.

"Do you want to go?"

With a snort you reply "no."

"Aren't you the least bit curious about them?" His voice curls salaciously. "They're the elite--"

"Everyone at this school is an elite," you remind him.

"Of the elite," he amends. "C'mon...I know you've got a huge crush on-"

You slam your pen down and glare at him. "Finish that sentence and it'll be the last thing you ever say."

He smirks under your full attention. "Promise to go?"

"No." You smile derisively. "I have literally no interest and I won't be manipulated into going."

He huffs and drops the topic as you get back to work.

"Last chance to come," he prompts, stopping by your room later.

"No thanks," you reply without looking up from the line of text. He huffs admonishingly but leaves without further argument.

It's pleasingly quiet in the dorms.

You're sure most of the other students have gone to the volleyball team's event and it just reinforces your decision not to go.

You're not here to make friends.

You're not here to find yourself or your place in the world.

No, Shiratorizawa serves only one purpose for you.

It is a stepping stone.

An escape.

You've worked hard to get into the most prestigious high school, achieving the best marks while you're here to give yourself the highest launching point to get as far away from here as possible.

And from the way the options sprawl out before you, you're almost free.

Finding yourself will come after you find a way out.

Tokyo, Paris, London, Seattle; the acceptances have poured in and you can taste the finish line.

The freedom.

You won't jeopardize that with meaningless distractions.

Pouring your heart and soul into every subject, you've been recognized by almost every teacher you've had. Almost every peer, too. From those who've spent their whole academic career trying to catch you, drag you down, cheer you on, or chew you up. Your name is renowned.

Your future is envied.

"I told you I'm not going," you say sternly to the knock on your door.

"How do you know that's why I'm here?"

You jump with a gasp, turning sharply in your seat toward the door and see Tendō Satori leaning against your doorframe all lean muscle and cool confidence.

You scrutinize his lazy smile with a tight gaze. "Why are you here, then?"

"I didn't see you at the party." He crosses his arms, eyes never leaving yours. "I was curious what you were doing instead."

"Well," you gesture across your desk, turning back to it, "now you know."

He lingers in the doorway, not asking for your attention but distracting you all the same.

You ask stiffly "is there something else you wanted?"

"You."

Snap; the tip of your pencil breaks off in shock.

You're too embarrassed to look at him so you just stare at your books hearing the smirk in his voice.

"I was hoping I would have an excuse to cross your path, an opportunity to be subtle at the party but I should have known better."

Your heart's beginning to thrum.

Yes, you're aware of the guess monster. The eccentric genius whose personality and character are even more alluring than his performance on the court. But attraction is distraction and the future is uncertain so for the past three years you've ignored any curiosity toward the appealing red-head.

The fact that he's here now...what he's implying... you're not sure you believe it.

When you don't say anything he prompts "do you understand? I threw the party for a chance to hangout with you."

The concept of it is too tough to understand, like a lump in your throat.

"I...I understand..." you admit.

Can he hear how hard your pulse beats in the quiet?

"And?"

"And what?" You fight every urge to look at him.

"How does that make you feel?"

After a moment of sluggish consideration you reply "I'm...flattered...Tendō, really. I am. But, I need to study."

He hums from the doorway, unsatisfied. "That didn't really answer my question."

"I don't know how to answer it, then." You stare at the pencil in your fingers as you twist it. "Or maybe I don't understand what you're trying to ask."

"I'm asking if you'd like to hangout with me."

Of course you would.

The answer is right there on the tip of your tongue but it feels like saying it would puncture some intangible bubble, destroying the path to your future.

"Let me ask a different way," he says slowly, gently. "Can I...hangout with you?"

Your eyes flick to him with a frown because it has to be obvious that you're in the middle of studying right now and not interested in just hanging out.

That's when you notice his backpack.

He smiles wryly.

"You mean..." The creases of your frown deepen. "You..."

He nods. "Can I study with you?"

"Why would you want to do that?" you ask, face screwing up as you gesture. "There's a party going on right now with your friends. A party you literally organized."

"Only to spend time with you," he amends holding up a finger and you gape in exasperation.

"I don't know, Tendō." Rubbing your forehead you grimace. "It's..."

He waits patiently, far longer than anyone else would and you realize what you have to say is just that important to him.

With a slow, steadying breath you meet his eye and confess. "I don't want to stay here...I've worked hard all this time to escape...And I'm... scared..."

"Of stumbling on a reason to stay?"

Something clicks into place within you. Like a puzzle piece perfectly fitting with another, you feel seen.

Understood.

You nod.

He looks hesitant now, eyes still gauging your reactions. "What if...that reason... wasn't going to stay either."

Your chest tingles with implication but you hold it at bay again, denying the suggestion. "What do you mean?" you ask nervously.

Tendō cautiously straightens up as if facing something head-on. "What if...when you escape...you weren't alone? What if a reason to stay...became..."

"A commonality to leave?"

Tendō's eyes shine and he smiles, mirroring the pining hope dawning inside of you, too.

There's a flash of images through your mind: saying goodbye to family and friends, boarding a plane, walking down a cobblestone street with the Eiffel tower twinkling in the distance.

Your heart skips a beat because you've imagined these things before but, for the first time, you imagine you aren't alone.

"So..." He asks, failing to hold back a wry smile. "Can I join you?"