βœ“THE SPACE BETWEEN THE STARS|...

By BisexualCricket

130K 7K 8.1K

{BakuDeku Celebrity/Fake Dating Au} *THE NOVELLA IS COMING TO A WATTPAD NEAR YOU SOON ;)* Worldwide star Gro... More

Prologue
Chapter One: Yes I'm Re-Writing It, Your Point?
Chapter Two: Izu The Artist *Chef Kisses*
Chapter Three: Artistic Drunk
Chapter Four: Did I Mention Angst?
Chapter Six: Dadzawa Confirmed
Chapter Seven: Lovely Blemishes
Chapter Eight: Words Left Unsaid
Chapter Nine: I Know . . .
Chapter Ten: French Girls
Chapter Eleven: Waves
Chapter Twelve: Pitter Patter Memories
Chapter Thirteen: Cherish . . .
Chapter Fourteen: Pt. 1 Three Days
Chapter Fifteen: Pt. 2 Three Days
Chapter Sixteen: Where You Go I Follow . . .
Chapter Seventeen: . . . No Matter How Far.
Chapter Eighteen: It's so fluffy I'm gonna die!
Chapter Nineteen: Naked Drawings 'n Shit
Epilogue: When Stars Collide
Bonus Chap, Q n A!! |00|
Not rlly a bonus chap just an announcement?

Chapter Five: #NotMyMamaInko

5.7K 363 425
By BisexualCricket

Assassin↲
Au/Ra

"You hear footsteps when no one's comin'. But you keep runnin', there's no use runnin' . . ."

 Screaming.

Muted words.

Desperate pleadings.

Izuku shot up in bed, emerald ringlets clinging to his glistening pale forehead and cheeks as frantic eyes dart around the room. Raking his digits through his matted hair the male heaves a sigh, allowing himself to fall back against the pillows. Miniscule specs of dust swirled in the white, unfretted morning light streaming through the cracks of his drapes . . . Damn it. Luckily for him, it was a Saturday, so school wasn't an issue, however — his mother was. He had managed to avoid her all week, surprisingly, but he had no choice but to face her this weekend.

He had no excuse for anything 'keeping him busy'.

Reluctantly, he pulled himself from the comforts and warmth that was provided to him by his sheets. The static-like shuffling of his feet scuffing the floorboards below him soon becoming the soundtrack of his early morning tasks. Quickly pivoting, he enters the bathroom, doing any and all necessary activities before promptly rushing to the kitchen. His mother, Inko, was seated quietly at the counter on one of the bar stools — coffee mug in hand and a silver flask resting next to her. 

"Did you pay the bills?" 

Izuku's eyes widened a fraction of a second, cursing himself internally for forgetting to do so this week. "Uhm . . . No — not yet, but I will today," he quickly said, refraining from making any eye-contact with the woman.

The clattering crash of the coffee mug coming in contact with the floor caused a jolt to slither up Izuku's spine, emerald orbs slowly peeling up to gaze at Inko. "I've been —"

"'Busy?'" Inko mocked, stepping over the fragments of glass and over to her son. "I do everything for you Izuku, and this is the thanks I get? Do you know how hard it's been since your father left, hm?"

Izuku hadn't even realized he was backing up until his bare backside came into contact with the bitter doors of the refrigerator. This conversation could go one of many ways if he weren't careful, yet something told him he'd end up with a bruise of some kind anyway.

"I know mom, I'm trying," he whispered, a grimace contorting his features as Inko's overly-grown nails penetrated through the delicate exterior of his flesh. After a while, hot, small streams of blood began to drip from his chin.

Before she could press the matter any further, a loud string of knocks sounded at the front door. "Go to your room and don't come out," Inko ordered, shooting her son an icy glare, "Now!"

As Izuku dragged himself down the hall and into his room as Inko made her way to the front door. He knew better than to test his luck, it would only end up in a fight — and seeing as though he lacked the normal physical strength of a boy his age . . . he thought it'd be best not to try anything. 

Another series of knocks sounded at the door, prompting an irritable string of curses to flow from Inko's mouth as he made her way over. Finally, she swung the door open, a stone-faced expression on her face as she prepared to greet whoever was there.

"What the hell do you —" the pupils in her emerald green eyes dilated as her mouth hung agape. "Oh, shit,"

"'Oh, shit.' Would be the right way to respond right now," Aizawa growled, matching the woman's horrified facial expression with an outraged one. "Don't even think about bullshitting me, now where is he?"

No.

Fuck, no, this couldn't be happening. She had done so much, wasted so much just so they wouldn't have to deal with them again . . . And for what? For all of that effort and endurance to go swirling down the drain and into the pipes below. 

"I don't know what you're talking about, Aizawa," Inko replied smoothly, her face going slack. "Now I don't know how you found me, but I'd appreciate it if you get the hell off my property."

A scoff escaped the dark-haired man's lips as he pushed himself in, exhausted eyes trailing over every inch of the dirtied house. "It's a fucking pigsty in here," he muttered, "Now you want to explain to me, how Izuku isn't dead like you claimed?"

"Keep your damn voice down!" Inko hissed, eyes wild and deranged as she quickly glanced down the hall towards Izuku's closed room door. "It isn't any of your business what happened, now leave!"

Deep-rooted anger boiled and overflowed from the base of the elder man's nervous system, surging waves of heat throughout his veins as the woman's words finally registered in. Years and years of loss and grief came hurdling through his body, mind, and soul in large clusters — clogging any logical response he could have come up with. Katsuki and the others weren't the only ones who thought they lost someone that fateful day all those years ago . . . Aizawa lost a boy who felt like a son to him.

You don't ever truly recover from the loss of a child.

"It's not any of my business?" Aizawa repeated, "What Hisashi shows up, makes a few empty promises that you believe, then you drop me and everything we were doing and fake Izuku's death? Is that what happened, Inko?"

"I said keep. Your. Damn. Voice. Down!" she seethed in a hushed whisper. "And for your information, Shota, it was a bit more complicated than that . . . If I didn't know any better I'd say you're still in love with me," Inko chuckled humorlessly.

Aizawa scoffed at her words, actually finding some humor in them this time. "'For your information,'" he mocked, "I'm married now, any love for you I once had died a long time ago. Now, where is he?"

The green-haired woman did a roll of her eyes as she crossed her arms, eyeing the man up and down. A sinister smile grew onto her face as she hummed softly, knowing this next part would be enjoyable — for her — to watch. 

"He's in his room, not that it would matter . . . He doesn't remember any of you," she explained quietly, observing as Aizawa's features contorted and pulled together.

"What the hell are you talking about?" the elder demanded, allowing some bite to enter his tone.

". . . He has amnesia,"

Hello Cricket Cultists!!

This chapter was short I know, but they will get longer from here on out - promise!

Hhehehe . . . THEORIES??

I'm back and I actually plan on finishing this story now! I can't wait!!!

DID I MENTION THEORIES???

Until we meet again!!!

    





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