“Friendly Husky Affectionately Thanking A Firefighter Who Helped Them Out After The Pupper Managed

To Calm a Storm

This is the fourth part of my “when he knew he loved you” series.

Lucifer | Mammon | Levi | Satan | Asmo | Beel | Belphie

Warnings: None

Pairing: Satan x GN!MC

Words: 1080

2:56PM

Satan resists a growl as he paces in a small, tight circle in the corner of the RAD library. His fingernails, which are on the verge of becoming claws, are biting into his palms. He hopes he’s not bleeding. He’s planning on meeting you, as he often does between classes, and that would be embarrassing.

Fuck, he thinks, as he wrenches his hands apart to see angry, red crescents on his palms. But no blood, that’s good. Either way, he can’t let you see him in this state. The very idea is enough to make him feel sick. Satan sinks into a chair at your regular table in the corner and takes a deep, deep, breath, trying to steady his nerves. Trying to forget the argument he’d just had with the professor of Pactology.

You’d once mentioned that slowly counting to ten was a human method of controlling one’s anger.

So, he gives it a try, and he can almost feel it working. Then he hears your voice as you say goodbye to some of your friends outside the library’s entrance. His eyes snap open and he puts on a pleasant smile just as you appear from behind one of the tall shelves. As you approach him, your own bright smile falters.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” you ask, giving him a once over. Satan’s eyes widen briefly and he closes his hands.

“What? I’m fine,” he says slowly, carefully. To avoid it coming out from gritted teeth.

Your eyes search his face as you drag a chair over to sit next to him. After a quick inspection, you determine that something is wrong. “No, really, what happened?” you ask, placing your hand on his shoulder.

His eyebrows bunch up, “you can tell I’m upset?”

You nod, “you’re a good actor, Satan, but I can tell when something’s bothering you.”

Since the metaphorical cat is out of the bag, he sighs and starts to tell you about the argument he’d just had with his idiot professor. How she’d been giving the class the wrong information.

And when he raised his hand to correct her, she had to gall to scold and belittle him, as if there were no possible way a student could know more than her. Then ended her barrage against him by calling him the wrong name.

“She called you Lucifer?!” you screech, mortified. This earns you a glare from one of the librarians. You shrink into your seat until they pass by. Once the coast is clear, you ask again, in a more appropriate tone, “she called you Lucifer?”

“Yes.” he grits out, knuckles turning white as he grips the armrests. They’re probably moments away from being ripped off the chair.

“I’m sorry, Satan.” You rub at his arm in an attempt to sooth him. The two of you sit quietly for a few minutes. Your hand moves to his back, rubbing gentle circles between his shoulder blades. His eyes are closed and he subconsciously leans back against your hand.

You can feel the tension leaving him with every circle you make.

“I apologize.” he mutters, under his breath.

“For what?” you ask, hand temporarily stilling. He opens his eyes to look into yours.

“That you found me in such a bad mood. I was trying very hard to get myself under control.” he whispers. You smile softly and continue to massage his back.

“Satan, you’re allowed to get upset, ya know? That’s part of being... alive.” (You were about to say human, but that isn’t exactly applicable is it?)

“Yes, but—”

“No," you interrupt, “she was being unfair. She didn’t hear you out and she was being horrendously disrespectful. You had every right to be angry. As long as you don’t act on it, it’s okay.”

“Do you really feel that way?” he questions, with a head tilt.

“Of course I do. You didn’t destroy the classroom or threaten to disembowel her or something. You’re just irritated. Ya know, I’m surprised she started a fight with you anyway—”

“Because I’m Wrath?” he guesses, hurt written on his face.

“Because you’re very smart. And you’re the only one who gives half a fuck in that class.”

He blinks in surprise, then groans softly, “everyone thinks I’m just a copy of him. It makes me so…”

“I know, I know,” you whisper, moving to sit on the arm of his chair. He looks up at you. “You’re not a copy of anyone. You’re Satan. You’re the most intelligent, most well-read, kind, witty, handsome—” you slam your free hand over your mouth.

He smiles again, it’s genuine this time. You look away, face turning red.

“Um, I’m gonna go find a book on ancient pactology and we’ll show that old hag!” you say, standing abruptly before wandering off in the completely wrong direction. Satan laughs softly, then touches the back of his shoulder where your hand had just been.

He watches you stumble over your feet, then realize you’re going the wrong way. As you turn towards the correct section, you nearly walk into a bookcase. He chuckles again. His anger dissipated.

Something else flutters in his chest, he puts his hand over his heart. It’s not anger, or fury, or rage. It’s something much… softer. Lighter. Unfamiliar.

Once you return with a book, several hundred years older than you, you carefully set it down before opening it to the back. And as you run your finger down its index, Satan only looks at you.

If the books he reads are accurate, this feeling could only mean one thing. His eyes scan your face.

“Here we go,” you say, pulling the book towards him. Then you start to read a passage which probably proves his point, but the words aren’t quite registering. “See, you were right!” you exclaim, pointing to the words.

“Uh,” he glances down to read the details of how pacts were formed in the days long before your birth. “Of course.”

“Didn’t doubt you for a second,” you smile before looking up at the clock behind you. “Uh oh, my next class is in four minutes! I’ll see you later.” you say as you get up. You pat his head softly before exiting the library.

And suddenly his cheeks are on fire.

(He totally doesn’t sit there for the next fifteen minutes, imagining your hand on his back. And he certainly wasn’t late to class for the first time because of it. No sir.)

–

Thank you for reading! Please reblog!

If you enjoyed this fic, please consider buying me a coffee.

<3 Aerie

Way to go superstar! 💫

merp…

(Source)

“Medical professional having to deal with an unruly patient trying to take off their mask”

(via)

Aberration - Chapter 1

MHA!Various x Fem!Reader

Thriller/Horror/Drama

Criminal!AU

Words: 2.3k

A/N: Yay, here’s the first chapter of my new AU! It might be a little slower at first but it’ll pick up the further we get into it. So I hope you like this!

Warnings: Yandere Themes, Mentions of murder, blood, felonies, bullying, swearing.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of MHA, just this story. In no way does this reflect the characters, writers or VAs of the show/manga. MINORS DNI.

~~~

Aberration Masterlist/Character profiles

~~~

In this world, mutations, renamed as ‘Quirks’, are abnormal. Only about 5%-8% of the world population are known to have these so called ‘Quirks’. You are a graduate of one of the most prestigious science tech schools in the country. You’ve been selected to work for a secret scientific research facility that houses some of the most notorious criminals in the nation. Besides their crimes, what makes these individuals incredibly dangerous are their mutations. After meeting these individuals, they seem to have taking a liking to you. That should make your research and search for the cure all that much easier…

Right?

Keep reading

I don't know who I am...

Camilo Madrigal x reader

Warnings⚠️ some angst, sad Camilo, but don't worry it's fluff at the end 🧡

Camilo stared at himself, his hazel eyes darting across his face. His nose, his mouth, his hair, and yet he still couldn't see it. He couldn't see Camilo.

That scared him, it scared him that he changed so often, pretending to be others in his everyday life that he didn't even know who he was anymore... Who Camilo was.

The more he looked at himself the more he hated what he saw, but he couldn't figure out why. Did he not like his nose? Eyes? His height? He didn't have a small cute button nose like his sister, he didn't have big curious eyes like his brother, he wasn't strong and tall like Luisa, wasn't elegant and graceful like Isabella, he wasn't good at expressing like Maribel.... So what does he have?

Tears started to fill his eyes, his nose slightly scrunched, eyebrows tweaked up, and his bottom lip taken between his teeth to stop it from quivering.

He was always someone else, every day for everything... He shifted to be taller when helping around the house and doing chores, he shifted into his sister for seconds when eating, he even shifted when babysitting the children in the village, he was always someone else.

He was a copycat... A doppelganger... What's the use of getting a gift as special as you when you weren't special at all, just a copy of someone else.

Tears started to fall down his cheeks, falling faster and faster. He desperately tried to keep his breathing steady, vision going blurry as he tried not to blink, as he knew that would only make the tears fall faster and he was still hoping they would just go away. The more he stared into the mirror the more he had to fight the urge to smash it.

Copycat

Doppelganger

Copy

Shadow

Shifter

His shoulders began to shake, putting his head down, fingers tapping feverishly on his dresser telling himself not to cry, but it was fruitless and his whimpers and soft cries left him.

He fell to his knees head in his hands as he asked himself 'who is Camilo' over and over and

Over

And

Over

And

Over

Over

Over

Over

"Camilo?" Camilo's head shot up from his hands, oh no it was you his amor, he couldn't let you see him like this. He hastily turned away from you frantically wiping the tears from his face and eyes, but the more he wiped them away more came falling. His breath hurrying in frustration, only to stop when he felt your hand placed gently on his shoulder, he flinched hands shaking as he looked anywhere and everywhere but to you and your eyes, he couldn't look at you, he couldn't see your face of pity as you gazed down at him.

He could feel you kneel next to him and try to pull his shoulders to slowly turn him to face you, he took a deep shaky breath before turning to you giving you a broken smile, but as soon as the corners of his lips lifted he couldn't hold it and it dropped back into a quivering frown.

"ay, mi pobre amor" you whispered as you pulled him into you, you rubbed his shoulders as you helps him stand walking him towards his bed, getting him to lay down with you. You pulled him in and he snuggled into your neck, as you began to run your fingers through his thick curls. He let out a shaky hum of appreciation, closing his eyes. You kissed his forehead, pausing your hand running through his hair to brush some almost dried tears off his freckled cheeks giving him a small boop on his nose causing him to giggle.

"You are you, Camilo amor you are mi corazón, my one and only, my prankster with a heart and soul of gold. I see you, and I love you." You mumble the last part kissing his forehead, he smiled, a real smile. One that lit up your life every time you saw it without fail. You helped him turn over as you brought him impossibly closer to you, Camilo smiled he loved being the little spoon more they he let on.

And now he knows that even if he sometimes doesn't know who he is, he has you to remind him.

🇺🇦💛💙

lil marshmallow