How would yandere Deku react to the reader playing a gold flute that's unbreakable because of magic that was gifted to her by someone from another dimension who has feelings for her? It’s like the music from the flute can connect with reader and her friend, there’s a special connection between them
i kinda mixed this with a fantasy setting idea?? Could be seen as either romantic obbsession or platonic. I kinda’ left that up to you. gn reader btw~
shaky writing because i was trying to sound all wise and philisophical and i forgot i was a smut writer
(Fantasy AU! Yandere, obsession, destruction of property idk there’s so few warnings on this one(?))
Playing God
Yandere! Izuku Midoriya x reader
When you first meet Izuku Midoriya, you’re a bit surprised that this was the hero the Gods chose. He resembles nothing close to what the prophecy foretold. He’s merely a child, barely hovering about the age of fourteen, trembling in the dirt of your forest, marks and scratches all over his body.
For a moment, you think to leave him. Eventually the elders of the village will come to look for him. There’s no need for you to meddle with the human’s affairs, especially ones concerning a hero. They did say those who intervened with the destiny of a prodigy often suffered dearly.
It’s the frailness of his body that makes you break, how tiny he looks among the grass. How pitiful.
A warm meal wouldn’t count as meddling, right?
“Are you lost?” You ask.
The boy stiffens, he looks up wildly, before finally focusing his eyes on you. They were bright. Green like the forest. He blended in quite nicely.
He doesn’t answer the first time.
“I asked if you were lost.”
He hesitates, “...A little.” He finally admits.
You laugh, it’s quick, barely a huff, finally deciding to extend your hand towards him.
“Come. Let’s get you out of the dirt.”
As his hand reaches up to grasp your own, you decide that he doesn’t have the hand of a hero’s.
Despite his tiny stature, Izuku eats a lot.
Two bowls have already been downed, and he’s midway through his third. Briefly, you wonder if you even have enough food to fill this boy up.
He seems to suddenly remember himself, stopping himself from devouring the bowl completely, delicately setting it down.
“Thank you for the food,” He says shyly, a blush blooms on freckled cheeks.
You only hum, “Eat as much as you want. You need that energy.”
He nods at your reply, going back to his meal, before pausing again.
“I’m...I’m sorry for barging into your home like this,” He says, guiltily looking away. He glances at the hall of your temple.
“I promise I’ll leave as soon as I can...”
You tilt you head, “What were you doing so deep in the forest anyway? Not even the woodsmen come this far.”
“I was exploring,” Izuku replies honestly, “But the woods got so dark and I didn’t know where I was going and...”
“Hm,” You say, “Exploring? Alone? That’s not very wise.”
He’s helpless to do nothing but nod.
“I know...”
“Well, as long as you realize your mistake,” You sigh, stretching out your arms, “Be sure not to repeat this dangerous adventure again. Understood?”
He blinks. He seems confused.
“You...you aren’t upset I entered your forest?” He asks hesitantly.
“The forest isn’t mine. I’m in no position to demand those things,” You reply, “I’m just glad you’re unharmed.”
He seems to still be unsure. In response, you push his unfinished bowl closer to him.
“That being said,” You hope your smile doesn’t look like a grimace, “I might not be so forgiving if you waste your food.”
His doubt seems to vanish instantly. Immediately, Izuku goes back to eating, scarfing it down with renewed vigor.
When the sky begins to show signs of purple, you shoo him in the direction of his village. He keeps waving back until his figure fully disappears into the leaves. When he’s gone, you sigh, massaging your temples. There’s no moon in the sky tonight. A child is harmless, but it could have been worse.
Maybe you should erect a barrier to keep pesky humans out.
-
After centuries of practice, the art of the woodwind instrument has finally been mastered.
The forest is quiet, thrumming with silent vigor. You can feel the spirits in the trees, the streams, the dirt, all await for your tune. As always, you sit on the floor of your temple, hands steady on your flute. You play something soft, melodious. The song blooms through your halls, spreading across the trees. Your eyes are closed, listening to the notes in a quiet tandem.
“Wow, you’re really good.”
You scream. The golden flute drops to the floor, sending a loud clatter as it rolls away. Recovering quickly, you immediately grab the instrument, before sending a seething look at the intruder.
At least he had the conscious to look remorseful.
“Sorry,” Izuku says hesitantly, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s fine,” You say too quickly.
You take a deep breath, trying to sound a little more patient. You still can’t keep the frustration in your voice, still too flustered at how easily you were startled by a mortal.
“Why are you here anyways?”
He looks away, “I...was doing some exploring...again.” He says shyly.
When you give him a look, he’s quick to respond.
“Safely! This time.”
You swallow your annoyance, “Wonderful. I’m a little busy at the moment. If you’ll excuse me.”
You get up, brushing down your kurta. Izuku is quick to follow, scrambling to walk beside you.
“What-what are you busy with?” He squeaks, “I could maybe help you?”
“Gardening,” You say stiffly, “It’s mainly heavy-lifting work. I’m not sure a child could help me.”
Why was he here? How had he even found you? Hadn’t he learned his lesson last time he got lost? You wondered if the dryads had helped this kid out. Annoying you was something of a pastime for them.
“I can help! I’m pretty strong. And-and I could...” He trails off when you sigh.
You come to a stop.
“Child, don’t you think it’s a little reckless to be wandering the forest again? Why don’t you go play with your friends in the village?”
His face falls and you wonder if you said the wrong thing. When he glances down to stare at the dirt, you know you’ve said the wrong thing.
“Who know who I am, right?” He mumbles, kicking at the dirt, “You already knew my name.”
You don’t respond. He already knows your answer.
“The kids in the village don’t really like me...” He quietly says, “They say the Gods wasted their gifts on me...that I don’t really deserve it.”
He looks at the trees. You follow his gaze, hoping to catch what he sees.
“The elders also say think same thing. They never say it...but...I can tell.”
You can almost imagine it, a boy with green hair being ostracized by children, each which jealousy, annoyance, that this was the hero the Gods chose. Adults clambering together, whispering their distaste in hushed rumors.
“Do you believe them?” You ask.
He looks at you, confused.
“They said you were a failure. Before you could even start. Do you believe them?”
He doesn’t hesitate, this time.
“I don’t.”
You laugh at that. The confidence a kid like him has. You admire it, honestly.
Heroes are rare, an abnormality. Despite all the years you’ve lived you’ve only met a few. You’ve never seen a hero grow, get stronger, flourish with the gift of the Gods.
“Do you believe them?” Izuku asks.
This could be an opportunity.
You tilt your head. “Which Gods have visited you so far?”
He only has one gift so far. Strength, from the sun. You hum in acknowledgment, before calling out to the forest. You ask for ore from the caves, wood from the trees.
You ask for indirect heat, from the moon.
The sword is too heavy for Izuku. He bends a bit, struggling to support the weight.
Still, he doesn’t let it drop. You smile at that.
“We’ll see.”
Watching over a hero might give some entertainment in your mundane life.
Izuku visited consistently. His favorite time was in the evening, just when you were about to play your tune. You don’t mind. He’s diligent. A hard worker. You supposed it’s because no ones bothered to try with the little hero. He’s grateful for it.
You just wish he’d be a bit more efficient.
“It’s been hours, let’s just stop here, for now.” You say, coming to stand beside him.
He’s barely sitting, almost lying in the grass, exhausted. The hero groans in what sounds like acknowledgment. Slowly, he tries to lift himself up, staggering.
You sigh, “Take a break. Gain back your strength.”
He collapses back to the floor, and the sword sinks into the grass. Curious, you step towards his work, the job you’d given him for today.
As you expected, it wasn’t a lot. The dead stump you instructed him to cut down barely had a scratch on it, a shallow line where his sword had mashed through. Could be his age, or his overall power, but Izuku was weak, despite the gift the Sun had given him.
“No,” You tell him sternly when he tries to wobble to his feet, “Just sit for now.”
He looks like he wants to argue, but he wordlessly complies. You were glad you had to stop him from pushing himself, instead of the other way around. Tenacity was honestly the only thing he had going for him at this point.
“Thank you,” Izuku politely takes the cup you offered him, drinking the contents down in one swing.
You stand next to him, waiting for him to finish.
He couldn’t access his gift, he told you when you berated him one evening. He knows it’s there, deep within him, but he can’t reach it. Theoretically, cutting down a stump should be child’s play with his gift. You were pretty sure it was because he lacked any initial power. In order to start a fire, one needed a flame. Izuku didn’t even have a spark.
“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” He says when he finally catches his breath, “I can still feel it. It’s still there, but I can’t use it. Am I still not strong enough?”
You give him a look over. It’s only been a few weeks but he’s already gained a bit of muscle. Not by a lot, but he didn’t look like he’d fall over by a gust of wind at any second.
It should be more than enough, right?
Maybe you were looking at it the wrong way? You bite your lip, studying him. He’s strong, plenty strong, but maybe it isn’t just physical strength that’s stopping him?
“I think the issue is that you aren’t picturing it,” You finally say.
“Picturing it...?”
You nod. “Gifts mainly are channeled through your body, but you need to guide it. I’d suggest temporarily setting a goal, before you fully harness your gift.”
You expect him to jump up, eager to try your strategy out. Instead, Izuku uncharacteristically remains seated on the floor.
“Something wrong?” You ask.
He shakes his head.
“No, it’s just: you’re always helping me,” He says, “I wish I could do something to repay you.”
You feel a little guilty when he says that. You still don’t have the heart to admit you’re doing this for your own entertainment.
He gives a frustrated huff.
“But I’m not really sure what a human like me could give a God.”
Now, that gets a laugh out of you. Izuku’s face falls to confusion as you almost fall to the floor in hysterics.
“Sorry,” You huff, out of breath, “Do you...do you think I’m a God?”
He hesitates, “You...you aren’t?”
“No,” You’re still grinning, “Not even close.”
“But the-the temple,” He flounders, “Your-your powers?”
You shake your head.
“I was simply gifted by the Gods, same as you.”
His eyes widen, “Are you a Hero too?”
“Not quite,” You hum, “I think once, a long time ago, I was a human. A normal human. But I did something that a God rather appreciated. They gave me my gift.” You whirl the flute in your hands. Izuku stares at it, transfixed.
“What happened?” He suddenly asks.
You glance at him, he’s backpedaling, trying to squish words in a sentence.
“Why did the God give you your gift?”
Your smile falls.
“...I don’t remember.”
Izuku sits back, something somber on his face. A wince of anger.
“You...don’t?” You shake your head.
“It happened centuries in the past. It’s...trivial to recall things that happened so long ago.”
Izuku sits, letting what you said fill the silence. He doesn’t move until you’re scowling, telling him to get to work. He’s quick to comply.
Your theory is proven correct when Izuku closes his eyes, focusing on his gift. When he swings, the brunt of the sun comes with it, shattering the stump completely. It’s shaky, uncontrolled, but he did it.
When you ask what he was thinking about, he cheekily tells you its a secret.
There’s a festival in the village that evening. Timidly Izuku asks if you will attend. His face falls when you shake your head. He’s suddenly wondering why you haven’t left the forest in all the years you’ve been alive.
“That’s the price of immortality,” You hum.
“Imprisonment.”
_
Izuku is sixteen when news of him reaches the kingdom.
Imperial knights are sent to his village immediately. Within weeks nobles and merchants swarm his tiny town, endlessly gifting him with gold, jewelry, expensive clothing he’s never seen before.
Even the current crown prince of this era came to greet him.
“His highness says there’s a school in the palace, a place where people can train with their gifts,” Izuku says, swinging his knees on the roof.
You idly stand beside him, onlooking the view of the forest. It was so pretty like this, the time just before nightfall came. The temple is washed in duller colors as the sun disappears beneath the skyline. You can see the moon creeping up to take its place.
Usually, he’s dressed so modestly, simple clothes, scuffed pants. Today, he sits in your temple wearing an expensive shirt, material you’ve never even seen before. He looks healthier. Fuller. He gave you a fruit you had no name for. It tasted sweet on your tongue.
“Exciting,” You state, indulging him, “When are you planning on departing?”
He frowns.
“In a few days,” He says.
His tone is off. You tilt your head.
“Are you not excited?” You ask, “This is the chance you were waiting for, correct? After all, there’s so little training you can do in a forest.”
“I am,” He returns, too quickly, as if he’s trying to convince himself more than you.
He isn’t looking at you, rather, he’s avoiding looking at you completely. Bright green eyes stare into the horizon, dimmed by the setting sun.
“Then?”
“You won’t come with me,” He phrases it as a statement. A certainty.
“I won’t,” You agree, “Why are you so worried with my presence?”
“I just-” He doesn’t respond, trying to figure out the correct words. He takes a minute. Then another.
“I wish you could.” He gives a glance at your flute. You can’t make out his expression. “But you can’t.”
You hum.
“Have you ever wanted to leave this place?” Izuku asks.
That question has never crossed your mind before. You peer into the forest, alongside him. You can see treetops, hills, valleys. It’s all yours.
But have you ever wanted more than that?
How have the humans developed? How has the world changed? The fruits Izuku brought, the clothes he wore, you wanted to see the place they came from.
“I think It’d be nice if I could,” You reply honestly.
This gift was a curse, as well as a blessing. But you were happy with that. Content. The world will change around you, evolve, possibly leave you behind. But you’re fine in your little world filled with green.
You know Izuku doesn’t see it that way. No mortal would, not with their finite days.
“You never told me,” Izuku says.
“Told you what?”
“Which God gifted you.”
You smile, “Why does it matter?”
He frowns, “Is that you saying you won’t tell me?”
“Not quite,” You honestly state, “I’ve given you some hints, I believe.”
“Isn’t it more fun to figure it out yourself?”
He doesn’t respond, not to your last statement, at the very least.
“I’m not strong enough to help you, yet.” He whispers, turning to look at you.
“But I will be, one day.”
You smile at him. But, for some reason, his words feel like a warning.
The next day, Izuku heads into the kingdom.
You don’t see him off. You know he understands.
It’s not like you could.
_
You lied to him.
You remember how you got your gift. Just pieces, shatters of a complete memory. Sometimes you try piecing them together, trying to create a concrete storyline. Something always feels wrong, uncomplete.
You always give up.
In the end, it was pointless to try to explain remnants of a memory to a boy who can hardly fathom your passage of time.
Tonight, once again, the moon doesn’t join you.
_
To you, 11 years is only a moment.
To Izuku, it’s more than a decade.
He’s bigger now. Earlier, he was shorter than you, thinner. Now, he feels larger than most trees, towering over you. Untamed green hair is shorter now, and those giant emerald irises have matured.
The only thing you recognize is the smile. Soft, hesitant. Nervous.
As if he’s unsure if you even want to see him.
He timidly waits by the entrance of your temple, patiently waiting for you to acknowledge him. It’s a little comical, with how big he is, yet his posture remained the same. Polite, to the end.
You wait for a minute, then two.
Finally, you sigh.
“Come here, Izuku,”
He’s huge, practically dwarfing you. He has to bend over a little, hunch, in order to wrap his arms around your smaller body. But you’re just as warm, just as welcoming.
You pat his broad back, and you can feel him relax into your hold.
“Welcome home.”
~
“You can only stay for a few days?” You cock your head, disappointed.
He’s nodding, just as remorseful.
“I already visited the village,” He’s sighing, leaning back, “So much has changed.”
You laugh, “I can imagine. Tell me, what was it like?”
Izuku tells you stories. Stories of his travels. Stories of the adventures he’s had. Stories of the long harsh battles. Stories of finally slaying the nightmare that had plagued this world for decades. Stories of being a hero.
You wonder if he feels guilt, guilt that you weren’t there to watch him. You can’t blame him. That’s how he is. He needs to be everyone’s savior. You often wondered if that was just his personality, or the traits of every hero.
You like to think that it was just Izuku’s.
He’s smiling when he finishes his tales. The sun is setting in the sky. You won’t let him stay the night.
He’s matured between his younger years. There’s no disappointment on his freckled features. He nods, with a smile.
“You can only stay for a few days,” You say, tilting your head.
“I’m offended you aren’t more saddened about leaving.”
He jerks, stumbling over apologies and you laugh.
“No it’s just, I have a feeling.” He smiles knowingly, a light blush over his tanned faced.
You prod, “Feeling?”
He nods, “I won’t be leaving you.”
You don’t know what he means by that. It sounds metaphorical, because he must know you’ll never leave this forest. You’ll live forever, while he, the great hero, withers away with mortality. Another will take his place.
Still, his last words feel strangely cryptic. You force yourself not to linger on it.
~
Something was wrong.
You woke up. The forest was screaming. You could hear the horrid cries of the trees, the saplings.
They were screaming for you.
You’re stumbling through the halls of your temple. It’s night, but the moon isn’t out, not this time. There’s no one to see you. To hear you. You feel alone.
But you aren’t.
Izuku is right there, in the edge of your temple. You want to feel relief, but you can’t, not when the thing he’s holding in his arms is too familiar to you. Something he shouldn’t even be touching.
“What are you doing?”
“I’ve figured it out,” Izuku is smiling, spinning your flute in his hands. He’s too reckless, and you have a feeling he won’t listen to you if you tell him to be careful.
It strangely feels like it’s the intention.
“Figured what out?” You cautiously ask. Izuku doesn’t feel like the companion you trained all those years ago. He feels more than that. Bigger.
It scares you.
“It was the Lunar God. The one who gifted you.” Izuku says, his eyes trail up to the sky. There’s nothing. Nothing nothing nothing.
“You never let me visit on days there’s no moon. You don’t have power on those days,” He looks down at the flute, “Neither does this.”
“Izuku,” You feel like you’re begging but you don’t know why, “Izuku what are you doing?”
His eyes are softer, like he believes his own words, rather than your tearful ones. You suddenly realize the forest wasn’t crying for you to come and save it.
It was crying for you to run and save yourself.
“Don’t you get it?” He says, “I’m saving you.”
There’s a crack. And you don’t have the courage to keep staring as he drops the instrument to the floor. There’s two distinct clatters, and you know it’s over.
You can feel it. All of it, lifting from your skin. Your tether to the moon is disappearing. Your power is returning to someone who once gave it to you with a smile. The voices of the forest are growing weaker and weaker and weaker.
Then you stop hearing it entirely.
You sink to the floor, no longer someone with a god’s gift, just you.
Just Izuku’s.
He’s quick to retrieve his prize, following you to the floor of a temple that you once owned. His hands rub your back in a soothing gesture that lacks the intent, just the greed.
“You’ll be okay,” He’s murmuring, “I’ll take care of you now.”
He’s humming, just barely over your hushed sobs.
“All you ever need, is me.”
Izuku draws you into a hug, and you suddenly feel very foolish.
Despite all the years you’ve lived, you were simply a mere human.
Who were you, to play God?
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