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farfromstrange · 4 months

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Do No Harm

CHAPTER FIVE: What Belongs Together Will Find Back Together

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Your shitty day gets worse when an agitated patient decides to completely lose his temper.

Warnings for this chapter: Angst, violence, mentions of gun violence, knife, mentions of drug abuse, blood, attempt at humor (again), mentions of abuse, flirting

Word Count: 5.5k

A/n: This is the second part of the double update. Enjoy!

Read Chapter 5: What Belongs Together Will Find Back Together here on AO3

You’re having a downright awful day. A witch must have put a curse on you, or maybe God finally decided to turn his grudge into never-ending misfortune.

You came into the hospital late, hungover, and in the back of an ambulance with a man who was beaten to a pulp by a masked vigilante, but you couldn’t tell anyone that, so you left that part out. Shelly wasn’t happy when the police showed up to question you, and she was even more displeased when she found out that you decided to play the hero instead of heading to work straight away.

She lectured you for ten minutes without taking a moment to breathe, and then she convinced you to take a double shift as an apology. You are far beyond your limit, but if you let the exhaustion seep in, people will die.

Eighteen hours down, six more to go. At least, that is what you believed when you set foot into the emergency room for a surgical consult. You didn’t expect to see yourself where you are now—standing between the security guard’s loaded gun and a troubled young man holding a pocket knife. Then again, the past eighteen hours have been hell, and after everything that happened the night before, this feels more like a cruel joke the universe is playing on you than a threat to your life.

You always happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The man threatening you with the knife isn’t even your patient. An ambulance brought him in after a bad trip on amphetamines. He was aggressive. They even had to strap him down. Someone else was in charge of him by the time you came downstairs to take care of your patient, but somehow, the young man managed to free himself of his restraints, knock out the nurses around him, and demand an almost lethal amount of drugs. When he didn’t get what he asked for, he pulled a knife, and security jumped in.

“One bullet requires over a hundred healthcare workers,” you blurt out. The security guard has his eyes focused on the man with the knife, but your words make him turn to you for a second. He frowns.

“Put the gun down,” you repeat. “If you shoot him, you will take almost all of the staff in this ER away from other patients. People already get shot on the streets like it’s a sport. We can resolve this some other way.”

You’re babbling, but the situation is about to escalate. If he hadn’t assaulted two nurses and pulled a knife on everyone else, including innocent sick people, security would have taken him down, you could have sedated him, and no one would have gotten hurt. But it’s already too late for that.

“Doctor Clarke,” the security guard, Hal, says, his voice eerily steady as he points the gun forward still, “Step aside.”

“No,” you insist.

“You’re gonna get hurt.”

“And you’re agitating him by waving a gun in his face. If you keep doing that, we’re all gonna get hurt.”

“Shut up!” the young man yells. You flinch. “Shut up, both of you!”

You turn to face him. “Easy. No one wants to hurt you. Why don’t you put the knife down and we’ll talk about what’s bothering you, hm? I can help you. You just have to be a little patient,” you say.

A calm voice can do wonders when someone is agitated, but this time, your words fall on deaf ears.

“I want ten milligrams of Dilaudid,” he says. “Now!”

“Okay, I heard you the first time, but 10 milligrams is a lot. Are you in pain?”

“Yes! That’s why I need you to give it to me or I swear to God I will use this knife and gut you like a fish.”

The gasps in the room are audible. You sigh. The way he’s shaking, you aren’t sure if he can gut you like a fish even if he tried. He’s in serious withdrawal. “I can give you two,” you tell him.

He shakes his head. “I want ten!”

“I can’t give you that. I can give you two milligrams. You know they do the job just as well.”

“No, no, no…” His voice grows higher, and it sounds almost as if he’s sobbing. His fist tightens around the handle of the knife. “No!” he says, louder this time.

From the corner of your eye, you can see some of the security guards ushering the remaining patients, the ones who are mobile, at least, out into the waiting room.

“Five,” he begins to argue.

“Two,” you repeat.

“I said five, you bitch!” He wipes the counter of the nurse’s station clean with his free hand. “You do as I say or I’ll cut you. I swear, I will cut you!”

You don’t let him sway you. You don’t let him agitate or scare you. Instead, you take a deep, calm breath and lift three fingers into the air. “Three,” you say. “Last offer. I can’t give you more than that. For now. I can give you three milligrams of Dilaudid, we’ll check you out, and if you’re still in pain, I can round up to five. How’s that sound?”

He licks his dry lips. His eyes keep darting around the room before falling back on you. He’s contemplating.

“I promise, I’ll do it. You just have to put the knife down.” You take a careful step forward. You almost have him. “I’ll make sure that the pain stays away, but we have to be careful about this, alright? Three milligrams, and I will add up to five if it’s as bad as you make it sound. You just put down the knife and I will take care of everything else.”

His nostrils flare as he lets out an exasperated sigh. “You will give me five?” he asks.

You nod again. “If you happen to need them, yes,” you say.

“Three then five?”

“Yes.” You smile gently. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“I’m not tellin’ you.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Let me introduce myself then. My name’s Olivia. I’m a doctor. And I promise you, I always keep my promises.”

The man looks between you and Hal, the security guard. His hand keeps shaking. He doesn’t look angry anymore, simply nervous. “And him?” he asks.

“He will put the gun down,” you say with an obvious glare over your shoulder.

Hal hesitates. He stares at you, then at the man, then back at you before he slowly lowers his gun. He doesn’t holster it, he keeps it at his side, but that seems to be enough for the young man before you. He slowly lowers his knife as well, placing it on linoleum floors. The seconds tick by in slow motion.

When the knife is on the ground and his hand is gone, you nod. One of the nurses grabs him from behind. He yelps. You can tell that he didn’t expect that, and the betrayal on his face is visible. You almost feel bad.

You get handed a syringe and a bottle of clear liquid. You have to be fast. The young man, despite his state of withdrawal, is rather strong and you’re not sure how long he can be restrained before he starts throwing fists.

“Okay, this is gonna hurt,” you state as you fill the syringe with the liquid. It could be Dilaudid, but judging from his eyes, he doesn’t believe you.

“No! Let me go! You promised!” he growls as he struggles against the grip keeping him in check.

“I’m sorry,” your words sound genuine. You mean them.

You truly are sorry. He’s suffering from a disease you are more than familiar with. You know what it does to a human being and those around them. You know the physical and emotional toll this disease can take. It requires so many sacrifices, and those affected have no choice but to give up everything.

You’re about to jab the needle into his upper arm when he manages to dig his heel into the foot of the nurse behind him. He stumbles back in pain, and the young man uses his newfound freedom to haul his arm forward. The syringe falls from your hand and out of his arm. You don’t have time to brace yourself. His anger escalates, and the faith you had dissipates.

A sharp pain tears through the bridge of your nose. The bone lets out a crack that sounds like a scream straight from a megaphone. It’s a pain you have felt many times before, but it still hurts like hell. You let out a groan of agony, losing your balance and falling against the counter of the nurse’s station. Thankfully, your assailant wiped it clean, giving you enough free space to hang onto.

For a moment, you’re disoriented. You can only feel the sharp pain tearing through your skull. The blood from the burst vessels starts pouring out of your nostrils in hot streaks. You can’t breathe. Not through your nose, at least.

When you finally manage to turn your head, you see the young man making a run for the ambulance bay. You push yourself off the counter, breaking free from whoever is trying to grab you and get you to sit down, asking you if you’re okay, and you take a few quick steps after him. You don’t get very far. Not only is your head pounding and your coordination is slightly off, but something gets in the way of the man’s escape plan, and he stumbles. He falls face-first to the ground. He instantly stops moving, and the security guards are all over him in seconds.

You’re holding your broken nose, a look of pain and surprise etched into your features. Your eyes switch from the man to a familiar face. Your eyesight is slightly blurry, but you recognize him right away. You take another step forward.

“Matthew?” you ask, dumbfounded.

The young man didn’t just stumble, he stumbled over a blind man’s cane. If that was on purpose or simply karma, you’re not sure, but the attractive lawyer whose number you tossed into the trash because you were feeling sorry for yourself made sure that no one else could get hurt. For that, you want to kiss him.

You wince. You probably have a concussion. You’re bleeding and confused, although when you look at him and he tilts his head in your direction, you don’t feel confused anymore.

The man next to him raises his eyebrows. “That was so cool, dude,” he says. Then, his eyes fall on you. “But that does not look cool. Hey, why did she just say your name? Do you know her? Matt?”

“Olivia?” Matt isn’t even paying attention to what you assume must be his friend.

You don’t have a lot of time to process the awkwardness of the situation. What felt like hours since you got punched has been nothing but mere seconds. You evaded the caring hands of your colleagues, and you are starting to regret that.

“I–” your vision blurs. One of the nurses rushes to your side when your knees buckle. “Excuse me,” you murmur, “I have to pass out.”

Before she can even tell you to stay awake, the black curtain closes on your vision and you lose all control of your limbs. You’re floating between consciousness and darkness. The strong arms that catch you before you can hit the ground though, you can feel them. And you can hear Matthew’s voice just above your head, telling you, “Hey, stay with me.”

But you’re tired, and your mouth tastes metallic. You hate the taste of metal. You open your mouth to respond, but that is nothing but a subconscious reflex. Before you know it, even the last pieces of your consciousness have slipped away, and you fall into the abyss of complete and utter darkness.

There is no telling for how long you’ve been out by the time you regain consciousness. Everything around you was dark for quite a while, but it still felt like only a minute or two. Your eyelids flutter. The bright neon light above your head hurts your already throbbing head.

You groan, reaching up to touch your nose. The blood has dried. You dare to inch closer to the injured bone, ready to face the pain, but someone touches your arm. It’s a soft touch that sends shivers down your spine. When was the last time someone touched you this gently? When was the last time someone touched you and wasn’t planning to hurt you afterward?

Your first instinct is to pull away. Your eyes slowly adjust to the white walls around you, nurse Miriam with a concerned expression to your left, and the steady beeping of the machine in the background.

“Welcome back,” she says with a relieved smile. “You scared us there for a second.”

“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” another voice says to your left.

You don’t want to believe it. You must be dreaming, or maybe you’re already dead. When you turn your head, you see him. Matthew. The lawyer. The guy you rejected because you tend to feel too sorry for yourself. You can’t help it. You’re scarred. You had a good reason for throwing his number away. What else were you supposed to do?

It takes you a moment to register his presence as something more than a hallucination. You want to ask him why he’s here, but you’re not sure if you want to know the answer. So, you just stare, and you try to figure out why Matt Murdock is sitting next to you in the middle of the emergency room after you got punched by a drug addict.

He smiles softly, even a little shyly. “Hi,” he says.

You blink a few times. He’s still there. “H-hi,” you stammer.

This is real. He’s really next to you. And he looks concerned. The past few minutes slowly come back to you. He tripped the young man who attacked you with his cane, and when you recognized him and walked toward him in a haze before passing out, he caught you. He looks strong enough to explain the way you felt when your knees buckled. The question of how he did it doesn’t even dawn on you because blindness is a complex disorder. It can’t be that easily explained.

You’re merely asking yourself why he’s at the hospital and why you’re suddenly so confused, and your body is tingling all over. All because he touched your arm to stop you from touching your nose, which is either dislocated or broken. You’re not lucid enough to determine that yet. You just know that it hurts.

Matt clears his throat. “You fainted.”

“To be fair,” your voice cracks a little, “I gave you a heads-up before I did.”

He laughs. He has a beautiful laugh. The way he adjusts his glasses as a faint blush covers his cheeks from the blood rushing to his head and the way he laughs are both equally as endearing, and you can hear your heart beating a little faster. The beeping of the monitor changes ever so slightly.

His laughter dies down after a few seconds. “You, uh–you okay?” he asks.

You want to look into his eyes, but all you can do is look at your reflection in his red glasses when you say, “Yeah.”

It’s a lie. You’re far from okay. He tilts his head as if he knows that you’re not, and it makes you want to curl in on yourself.

“There’s blood on your shirt,” you point out. His white dress shirt has a small stain toward the left of his chest. You don’t connect the dots at first.

Matt nods. “You kind of…fell on me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I caught you.”

“Oh.” You bite your lip. “Thank you?”

“It’s nothing. This is the first time someone fainted when they saw me, so… I’ll just take it as a compliment.”

The laugh that escapes your lips is involuntary. The vibrations tear through your nose. “Ow,” you wince. Your finger brushes against the bone this time, and the pain shoots through your body like an arrow.

Nurse Miriam gently pulls your hand away. “Careful, sweetheart,” she says. “We still need to get an X-ray, but Max thinks it could be broken.”

You don’t even question the mention of your colleague. Instead, you ask her, “How long was I out?”

“Five minutes, but your vitals are stable. You probably just fainted from the stress, not the punch itself.”

Turning your head back to face Matt, your finger brushes his hand that is resting on the mattress next to you. “You stayed,” you say.

You don’t understand why he would do that. You don’t know each other well enough. Your frozen heart cracks a little. You’re not used to this level of kindness. You’re not used to being cared for or worried about. You do it for other people. You do it for a living. When the tables are turned, however, you don’t know how to accept it. You don’t know how to deal with it, and you don’t know how to judge the way Matt is looking at you—in his own way, he is looking at you, just without his eyes, and you don’t know what his expression means.

You’re confused and possibly concussed, and your nose hurts. This day couldn’t get any worse. But Matt being there sends an almost welcomed shiver down your spine.

Matt tilts his head slightly, softly. “Someone laid their hands on you and then you fainted into my arms,” he says. He makes it sound as if that alone is reason enough to stay with a stranger he gave his number to but who never called him.

You feel bad. The guilt is eating you alive. He stayed because someone laid their hands on you. Involuntarily, your heart flutters.

“You tripped him,” you murmur. “With your cane.”

“Did I?” The smirk on his face tells you that he knows very well what he did.

You chuckle. He can be the epitome of innocence if he wants to be. “You made sure he wouldn’t get away.”

The redness in Matt’s cheeks only grows. “Ah. He just tripped over my cane,” he says. “Could happen to anyone.”

“But it didn’t.”

“Maybe it was God’s will.”

God’s will. You remember the conversation you had with him in the abandoned hallway a few days ago. You talked about religion. You told him why you are an atheist. He’s a devoted catholic, but he didn’t judge you. That’s not something you see often.

You don’t know what else to say, so you close your mouth and take a moment to look at him. He runs his hand over the stubble covering his jaw and neck. His chest strains slightly against his tight dress shirt whenever he takes a breath, and his suit jacket fits just right around his biceps. He fidgets with his fingers when he’s nervous, like now. You wonder what he’s thinking. Should you say something? You probably should, but you still can’t find the words.

“Listen, Matthew,” that is all you get to say before the curtain jiggles and a man passes through.

You remember his face. You saw it briefly before you passed out. He was standing next to Matt. Blonde, tall, nice smile—he’s the complete opposite of his friend. He’s colorful and giddy; he’s daylight, whereas Matt represents the night. They complement each other perfectly.

He’s clutching two packs of Capri-Sun from the vending machine in his hands. “Dude, you won’t believe what just happened to me,” he says. “I pressed the button for one Capri-Sun and the machine gave me two. Two, Matt! I told you, I’m on a lucky–”

He stops when he sees you wide awake, staring at him. Matt is pinching the bridge of his nose. “Foggy,” he warns.

“Oh!” Foggy breaks out of his trance. “Hey, you’re awake.” He offers his hand to you. “Foggy Nelson. So nice to meet you. I’m Matt’s friend, business partner, and fellow eligible bachelor.”

“Foggy!”

You raise your eyebrows. Part of you wants to laugh, but you swallow it. You take his hand with shaky fingers. “Olivia,” you introduce yourself.

Foggy smiles and it lights up the room. “Did Matt tell you we’re lawyers?”

The fact that he is still trying to flirt with you even with your face covered in blood baffles you. Words go lost on you.

You open your mouth to answer, but the curtain moves again. This time, someone pulls it back all the way. You’re met with a crowd of familiar faces. Everyone asks you how you are doing. You all tell them the same thing. “I’m fine,” you say. It’s nice to know that they care.

“You’re alive,” your colleague, Max, steps forward in his white coat.

You scoff. “Don’t sound so disappointed.”

“Hey, if you die, I’ll get your job. I’m just waiting for nature to take its course.”

“You think you’re as good as me?”

He smirks. “Hardly.”

You can’t help but chuckle. After a moment of silence, you dare to ask, “So, what’s the verdict?”

Max puts the chart down. “Let me take a look,” he says.

You love being a doctor, but you hate hospitals, and you hate being in a helpless position that you can’t control.

For the longest time, you dreaded setting foot into the hospital that was supposed to kickstart your career. For years, you studied for a job that was injecting your veins with the purest essence of fear. It was poisoning you.

You spent so much time and money to become a doctor, but for most of your residency, you hated it. You loathed it. And you loathed everything that was somehow connected to it. Now, you don’t have to be afraid anymore.

You don’t have to be, but you are. That is the problem. You’re afraid every day, and while it doesn’t make you hate your job the same way you did when you were still a student, it makes your blood boil whenever you think about the fact that the person you thought loved you took away the only good thing in your life, and that was the ability to feel good doing what you do. You will never get the excitement you harbored in medical school back. You lost it all.

You’re tense when Max’s slender fingers check your nose for possible fractures. All you want to do is get up and finish your shift. You don’t want to be the one lying in a hospital bed in the emergency room.

“Okay, that looks like a dislocation rather than a fracture, but we still need to get an X-ray,” he states.

You hear him out. You let him finish his sentence. Being rude to someone you get along with is the last thing you want to do. When he’s done though, about to turn around and tell a nurse to book you in for an X-ray, you cup your nose with your hands.

“No need,” you say.

The bone emits a loud crack. You groan. The pain travels to your toes where it paralyzes you for a brief moment. The eyes of the people around you are filled with horror. Foggy exclaims, “Woah, dude!” And the nurses all let out a collective gasp. Max pales. Matt is the only one who raises his eyebrows and shows the slightest sign of a smirk. You’re not sure if he knows what you just did.

The pain is only temporary. Your nose still pulsates under the discolored skin, but it’s back where it should be, and you can finally take a breath again. The small amount of blood that trickles out of your nose is quickly caught with a cotton swab.

Your glassy eyes meet those of the people around you. “What?” you ask.

“Did you just… reduce the dislocation on your own without an anesthetic?” Max retorts.

“Yeah. I was just waiting for you to tell me it’s not broken.”

“Olivia.”

“What?”

“You can’t be your own doctor.”

“Who said that?”

“I don’t know. The law?”

“Actually,” Matt cuts in, and you have never been more grateful for the sound of a stranger’s voice, “To know how to heal yourself is a basic human right. Legally, you’re not allowed to prescribe medication to yourself, but no one can forbid you to reduce a dislocation on your own if you know how to do it.”

Max frowns. “What? Who are you?”

“My lawyer,” you blurt.

“You–okay, you know what? We’re done here.” He picks the chart back up. “Shelly will want to talk to you, but after that, you can go home. Doctor’s orders. You need to rest.”

You sit up. “Thanks. Appreciate it.”

“Whatever.”

If you leave before Shelly can catch you, maybe you can escape a possible second lecture. This was in no way your fault, but the woman has been on edge for months. Budget cuts, staff quitting, and a significant hole in the money pool makes her job so much harder than it should be, and you’re only adding to her headache with your reckless behavior.

Being reckless is so unlike you. You used to be careful. You used to be scared of the consequences of your actions. To a certain extent, you still are. You still believe everything is your fault and you think twice about doing the easiest things, especially for yourself, because you don’t believe you deserve them. But ever since you started running from your old life, you have grown more prone to taking risks. You’ve become reckless. For someone as rational as you, that is odd behavior. Even you can admit that.

You can feel Matt’s attention on you. “Are you going to be okay?” he asks.

You blink and look up at him. “I think so,” you answer. “Do you know what they did to the guy?”

Matt opens his mouth, but Foggy cuts him off. “They sedated him, put him in a secure room, and called for the police and a psych consult,” he says.

“Okay. That’s… not perfect, but it’s good. Thank you.”

You’re still a bit weak on your feet when you get up. Matt catches your elbow. His senses must be excellent. He picks up on the smallest of movements without an issue. At first, that wasn’t obvious, but he’s no longer trying to hide it.

His scent hits you. He smells like the earth, rain, and sandalwood. He reminds you of fall. You like fall. When it’s not too cold and not too hot outside and all the leaves start changing colors. He reminds you of that, and perhaps even a cozy hug under a warm blanket.

You stare at him, and you feel like he’s staring back at you in some way. He tilts his head. His attention is entirely on you. He’s listening, smelling, and feeling. A silent connection passes between you, wrapping around you like an invisible string and tying you together. It’s weird. You’ve never felt anything like this before. Maybe he’s confusing you because he’s so attractive and you haven’t felt someone’s genuine touch in a while. Or maybe it’s because he cares that your mind can’t process it and is instead confronting you with all of these unwanted feelings for a man you don’t even know. You're sexually confused, frustrated, and it is emotionally draining to feel so many things at once and not be able to understand them.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. “I got your number, but I didn’t call,” you whisper.

Matt smiles, but his smile looks pained. He’s not the kind of man to pressure you into anything. He wouldn’t be mad if you rejected him, but you can tell that you hurt him. That was never your intention.

You threw away his number to protect you and your fragile heart. You tried telling yourself that you did it for him, but you were being selfish. You were feeling sorry for yourself, and you refused to allow yourself even a moment of reprieve from the constant weight of your past that is weighing you down. You are and will always be a masochist.

“I get it,” he says. His voice sounds even more like gravel when he speaks at such a low volume. “You don’t know me and I don’t know you. I can’t blame you for being careful.”

His hand slips from your elbow. “I, uh, should go. We have a cab waiting.” He grips his cane with both of his hands. Those beautiful hands. “Take care, Olivia.”

No.

“Wait!” Your eyebrows are already furrowed when you call out to him. You know that this is probably a huge mistake, but you’re not in charge of your own actions; your heart is.

You hate your tricky heart, considering it’s broken and frozen and won’t survive another heartbreak. Yet it changed its course last minute, and now you’re heading straight into the unknown, which scares the life out of you.

Matt stops. Foggy stops. They both stop. You take a step forward, approaching Matt again.

“Can I call you?” you ask.

He’s taken aback by the question. Your forehead wrinkles as he raises his eyebrows, and his jaw drops. He blushes. He reminds you of a fish on dry land, gasping for air. It’s kind of cute, you have to admit.

“It’s just that I misplaced your card and I would really like to call you later.”

He stammers. “What?”

“Yes. I realize now that I’ve made a mistake. I’d like to make up for it if you’ll let me.”

His blush only deepens. “You don’t have to make up for anything.”

“Even if so, will you still let me?” you ask.

The air is charged with awkward tension that could explode at any moment.

Matt reaches into the inside of his suit jacket to retrieve another one of his business cards. You recognize the delicate Braille instantly.

“If you happen to replace it again, I’m sure we will find each other some other way,” he says.

The blood rushes to your head. It’s your turn to blush. “I—” You take the card from him, and your fingers brush. An electrical current runs through your body.

“Call me,” his voice is barely above a whisper.

You nod, equally as breathless. “If you don’t hear from me,” you say, “you know where to find me.”

“At Metro General, getting your nose broken?”

“Only on Wednesdays. The rest of the week I’m at Metro General without suffering a concussion.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“Seriously, I am so glad you can’t see me right now,” your mouth is faster than your brain. “Sorry, that was probably offensive. I didn’t mean—”

Matt chuckles, but he shakes his head. “It’s alright. I don’t need sight to know that you’re beautiful,” he says.

You had been successfully keeping your head above water until now. One sentence and he’s got you hooked like a fish. Your jaw drops.

“Have a good night.” He squeezes your arm one last time. Then, he turns around, and with a small, “See ya,” he leaves.

You still haven’t regained your voice.

Only when you hear giggling beside you do you turn to face the nurses.

“Don’t even,” you say.

“Just one question,” one of the nurses pipes up.

You glare at her. You know this won’t be good.

“How can I get what you’re having?”

The group erupts into laughter, and you have no choice but to yield.

“I’m gonna find Shelly,” you sigh. You wipe your bloody nose again. “Maybe she’ll kill me for free.”

Anything would be better than becoming the center of the nurses' gossip, even getting lectured by a pissed-off hospital administrator who won’t believe her luck when she sees what happened to you.

You leave the emergency room with the intention of avoiding any and all mirrors, but when you pass the vending machine, you catch a glimpse of your face in the glass. The reflection is a bit runny. Your nose is blue and swollen, but it could be worse. What strikes you the most is the small smile on your lips. You’re used to being covered in bruises—a real smile is a rarity.

You pull away, looking back down at the card in your hands. This feels less like a curse now.

You can either regret something that happened or regret something you didn’t do out of your own fears paralyzing you. You have the choice. You’re in charge of your life now, and you would rather regret trying something and it not working out than never trying it and regretting it when the opportunity has passed you by.

You will call Matt, and you won’t be afraid because he’s the present and all of your fears are from the past. There is no place for the past in your present, let alone in the future. If you ever want to heal, you have to allow yourself to settle down. Perhaps that will finally give you back a piece of what you’ve lost.

“Yeah,” you say to yourself, “I’ll call him.”

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mdhwrites · 18 days

Note

So, do you think they do a good job connecting redeemed Zuko with the competence and skills he had when he was an antagonist?

So what's kind of funny here, as someone pointed out to me recently, is that Zuko dominates my mind as impressive but... He actually isn't the most competent villain in the world. Many of his schemes fail, he has plenty of losses that would fit right in with Team Rocket, etc. like that. So first we have to ask if he was competent or had skills while as a villain. After all, both General Xiao and Azula beat him in scope, danger, etc.

Yes. Because no one was willing to go as far as him.

Zuko's greatest character flaw is also flipped around to be his greatest strength as a person: Stubbornness and Dedication. A lot of his failures come from being so focused on one goal as to end up tunnel visioned and failing to fully utilize all that was around him, which Aang was far better at. However, that conviction also came from the fact that once he chose a goal, nothing could stop him except killing him.

For it to be fully a strength though, this fervor needed to be tempered. Luckily, a lot of Zuko's growth in Book 2, and what would allow him to give wisdom like Uncle Iroh could by Book 3, is about genuinely being able to read a situation and swap square pegs to round ones when he needed to. One of the best examples is the contrast between Zuko Alone, where in order to win a fight he resorts to firebending to win a fight handedly despite it being an objectively wrong move for his goals, versus when he's found by Jet in Ba Sing Se. By then, he's learned to read the room and so adapts, having to fight WAY harder than he would have had to if he had broken out his bending but winning much more because of it too. A character with less conviction to his ideals and goals would have resorted to the easy victory if they ever thought they were losing.

He never accepts defeat. He struggles to even compromise on how complete his victory can be. It is all or nothing for Zuko at all times and that sort of tenacity allows him to achieve things no one else in the series does. Even back in Book 1, his need to be the one to capture the Avatar leads to him infiltrating and taking down his own people, even working with Aang just so no one else can claim his prize. Then by Book 3, we see stuff like him not allowing Katara to compromise who she is for something as petty as revenge, or the fact that rather than try to compromise with Aang on Ozai or have a soft talk to him, he attacks Aang with enough ferocity to make it clear to everyone just how bad of a position they're in when he tells them what the whole problem is. Heck, one could easily say that it's his dedication that makes him understand that beating Azula by letting her kill Katara, still wouldn't be a victory because his goal at that point isn't to just beat Azula. It is to fight for better, more peaceful future and letting someone die for his victory would be counter to that. So jumping in the way of the lightning bolt was easy for him because no other option even crossed his mind at that point.

As a note: Yes, Azula has similar drive but her breakdown in Book 3 actually is extra satisfying in contrast to Zuko's fall because Zuko could have lost all of his allies and had his one victory turn to ash and gone "Alright. Time to get up and figure out how to fix this." Because that is just who he is. It's part of what makes their final fight against each other so good as we have someone who appeared to be an unstoppable force going against someone who is an actual unstoppable force.

I... Will pull back on this for a second though. If not for Mother's Basement's top Avatar fights, I wouldn't have had the comparison of Zuko's Book 2 fights ready and while I feel confident enough about my knowledge of Avatar to talk about the broad strokes of Zuko's character arc, this sort of analysis, how one's strengths and weaknesses as a villain can transfer over to them as a hero, is something that requires a lot more specificity. I need to remember him better as a villain in order to better judge how those traits transferred over. I'm still confident enough to say that it did happen, especially since Zuko is still recognizably himself as a hero versus as a villain, but it's one I wanted to include a disclaimer for anyways.

What do you all think though? Do I make a good case? Am I maybe overlooking some other strengths he carried forward? Let me know and I'll see you next tale.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

#avatar the last airbender #Zuko #Villain to ally

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xenodile · 2 years

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I promised Words about Bylgrael in relation to the MSQ and by god here they are.

Okay so, up until the Titan arc, Bylgrael has sort of been on autopilot. She showed up in Limsa, started listening to peoples' requests and helping out wherever she could, following instructions, and in the span of like two months she's killed Ifrit and is Minfillia's strongest soldier. However, she hasn't really had her heart in it. The whole time she's been following this internal flowchart of "would the hero from a fairy tale do this? Will doing this make people like me?" and otherwise just going with the flow. She's friends with the Scions in the sense that she considers the Waking Sands her new home and is glad of their presence, but she remains withdrawn and shy, never speaking about her past before coming to Eorzea. Even Y'shtola, whom she stays closest to whenever possible, knows precious little of this towering Sea Wolf that has taken Eorzea by storm with her heroic deeds.

Then comes the investigation into Lahabrea, which sees her traveling to Quarrymill. When she learns of Meffrid, Gallien, and the plight of the Ala Mhigans stranded in the Shroud, for the first time, she loses her temper. How could someone, a healer even, willingly stand by and let a person suffer and die when they have the power to save them? To see someone say that they WOULD if they COULD, and then stand idle when it is fully within their ability to do something is beyond infuriating.

"If you want to do something, then do it and damn the gods if they dare to object! And if your gods would demand such acts of callousness and apathy, perhaps you ought to get rid of them!"

She forgets why she came to Quarrymill in the first place, why she needed the Ala Mhigans' help, she just decides that she will do what she can to help them because it's the right thing to do. When Meffrid pens the letter vouching for her to Gundobald, it snaps her out of it and reminds her she has a job to do. She can't help but feel embarrassed by her outburst, and is grateful that she had been alone on this assignment. Such coarse behavior is unbecoming of the noble and poised knight Bylgrael wishes to be. 'Tis far too pirate.

As her investigation proceeds, Bylgrael delves into the Haukke Manor and therein encounters a pair of Lahabrea's minions. Most of what the Ascians have said has been mystical gibberish, talk of "one true god"s and the "power of darkness", but one thing these two say sticks out. "The crystals grant you your strength" Those odd trinkets that seemed to fall into her lap? They had the gall to attribute her actions to a set of colorful stones? She felt no different, there was no marked change in her abilities or her skill when she acquired the crystals or the Echo, as Minfilia called it, and she still fought within her own limits. She felt a twinge of anger. Not the righteous anger she felt in Quarrymill over the mistreatment of the Ala Mhigans, but anger that roiled and seethed. She was proud of what she had accomplished; saving Swiftperch, slaying Ifrit, succeeding where so many others had met grisly ends. Those were her deeds, achieved by her hands, not the power of some silly crystals. To suggest otherwise was an insult.

Her task concludes as Minfilia recalls Bylgrael to begin the campaign against Titan. She'll finally be working directly with Y'shtola again since they first met near Summerford some few months ago. Bylgrael was a little excited at the prospect of being able to impress Y'shtola with more acts of heroism, and the two set out in high spirits. Oh if only they knew what they were in for.

The roiling anger returns when Wheiskaet dismisses her accomplishments out of hand. How is killing Ifrit single handedly not enough to prove what she’s capable of? He speaks of the scores of men that fell when his company fought a primal, then scoffs at her ability to triumph alone? Her thoughts flash to the dozen odd Immortal Flames that lost their souls to a single breath from the Lord of the Inferno, and how casually he insults their deaths by treating Ifrit’s defeat as if it were nothing.

But worse still, he insults Y’shtola. She knows Bylgrael’s capabilities better than anyone else in Eorzea, Y’shtola can vouch for her, yet the former leader of the Company of Heroes all but ignores her. He demands they fetch groceries for his master’s banquet, and then derides her for refusing to subject herself to such a demeaning errand in the face of crisis.

It takes all Bylgrael has not to strike him there and then, but she doesn’t wish to lose her temper again in front of someone she’s trying to impress, and they do regrettably still need his assistance to find the way to Titan’s lair. So off she goes to the Black Shroud to meet with Landanel, a thoroughly despicable man that would’ve been right at home on her father’s galleon. A bloodthirsty lout that thinks he can threaten and insult anyone he wants.

And lastly to the Forgotten Springs, to deal with U’odh Nunh. A condescending old man that treats her like a saltless, unblooded whelp. As if killing a lone Amal’jaa in the throws of grief somehow prepared Bylgrael to grapple with the Father of Crags.

None of these “tasks” proved anything. This was an exercise in ego by a bunch of self-important, washed up mercenaries that were content to waste her time running errands when the threat of a primal loomed over La Noscea. These arrogant, egotistical fools had the audacity to assume she needed their guidance. That she was some foolish pup in need of a teacher to show her what a “real” warrior was, how dare they. Bylgrael already had a teacher, the very best, how dare they put themselves so far above her, on the level of her father.

She reminded herself that Y’shtola was counting on her to gain these buffoons’ cooperation, and resisted the urge to beat the retired mercenaries senseless for their disrespect.

At long last, she returned to Costa del Sol, blasted wine and rank cheese in hand. And then did the Company of Heroes reveal their true intentions, of how these ignoble errands were their way of judging Bylgrael’s character, how now she was oh so worthy and most assuredly capable of besting Titan, and the feast was all for her and Y’shtola to boot!

Did they expect her to be grateful for having her time wasted!? For presuming themselves so superior to her that the idea that perhaps she knew what she was doing was utterly impossible? ...The food is quite good though.

As the evening wore on, Bylgrael allowed her temper to cool and reflected on the past few days worth of frustration. She’d never been so furious before in her life as she had been over the Company’s disrespect. Why? Had her pride grown so much so quickly? The knights in the stories were humble and gracious, to get so wound up over petty barbs was...very pirate.

--------------

“Did the fruits of your effort not agree with you?”

Y’shtola’s expression was soft with concern as she sat down beside her fellow Scion.

“Oh it’s not that, I’m just...tired.”

“Mmm, you looked rather ragged when you arrived with the goblin cheese.”

“This whole assignment hasn’t been at all what I expected...and I’ve been so frustrated the whole time.”

“And who could blame you. It has been an undeniably trying experience.”

Bylgrael breathed a heavy sigh. It was vindicating to hear someone else say that the Company of Heroes had been poor hosts, to put it mildly. It was only natural for her to be angry after their repeated insults and disrespect...but even still...

“Do you...think I’m a good person?”

The question caught the conjurer well and truly off guard.

“And what, pray tell, has prompted such introspection..?”

“I’ve been angry because the Company hurt my pride, but it’s made me wonder what I have to be proud of. Ever since I arrived in Eorzea all I’ve been doing is swinging an axe around and piling up bodies. Should I really be proud of that?”

Y’shtola frowned, her eyes narrowing.

“I’m certain the good people of Swiftperch would disagree. As would the Sylphs of Little Solace, the refugees of Drybone, the entire population of Limsa Lominsa; need I go on? You have risked your life for the sake of others time and again and asked nothing in return, pride in your accomplishments is surely the least you deserve.”

Bylgrael reddened slightly.

“I-I didn’t really risk anything, if I couldn’t handle something, I would’ve just run!”

Y’shtola was amazed that the woman beside her could simultaneously be so audaciously confident in her abilities yet so insecure about her reputation.

“You have never displayed hesitation in battle before, what cause do you have to now doubt the actions that have saved countless lives?”

Bylgrael thought hard before replying. She hadn’t actually shared why she came to Eorzea or what she hoped to achieve with any of the Scions. The fear that any sensible person of good morals would revile her solely for her father’s name was enough reason to keep any mention of her past a secret. But...she could trust Y’shtola, right? Y’shtola had been her first friend in a strange land, who watched over her and gave her a place among the Scions, who vouched for her when others doubted her. Yes, if anyone could be trusted, it was Y’shtola.

“It’s...about something my father said to me before I sailed for Limsa.”

As the sun fell behind the horizon and glittering jewels filled the night sky, Bylgrael at last shared who she was. The identity of her father, her childhood aboard his ship, the ordeals he faced for his wickedness, her love of fairy tales and stories of good vs evil, her dream to be a noble and heroic knight, beloved by all. And of course, her father’s warning.

“Don’t writ yer legend in blood, lass. Live yerself a good, righteous life.”

“And so by earning fame through battle, you feel you have failed him?”

Bylgrael nodded.

“A knight should be humble and gracious, like in the stories. Not proud of their body count and losing their temper over petty barbs from common brigands.”

The miqo’te stifled a chuckle at Bylgrael’s own petty barb. She couldn’t disagree with the Sea Wolf’s assessment of the retired mercenaries.

“Well, I have not met any knights, so I cannot vouch for how humble or gracious they are. However, I am quite confident in saying that a villain would not be plagued by so fraught a conscience. Nor would they willfully tempt the wrath of the Elementals for the sake of healing a stranger.”

Bylgrael’s blush deepened in hue as she suddenly found herself struggling to look at her companion.

“Ah...you heard about that.”

“Word spreads very quickly whenever you are involved, I’m afraid.”

Y’shtola smiled as she spoke, and placed a reassuring hand on Bylgrael’s shoulder, prompting the larger woman to flinch at the sudden contact, her heartbeat quickening

“You have saved countless lives, and you endeavor to save more, even as you question whether you have the right to expect recognition for doing so. I can scarcely imagine one more deserving of being called a hero.”

At last a soft smile crept its way onto Bylgrael’s emerald features. She still worried that she was far too pirate to call herself a knight, much less a hero, but for now, she was satisfied that even one person saw her as such despite it all.

#David plays FFXIV #The MSQ Replay #Bylgrael #Watch out folks I went off with this one.#wow this took longer than I thought I am fuckin' tired

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oftomorrow · 1 year

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I keep thinking about early days Superman, still trying to figure out this hero thing -- and fucking things up. He makes a statement a bit too strong during an interview and says something that alarms a lot of people, thinking he’s going to become some kind of tyrant. He’s caught on camera losing his temper and using his heat vision, and people are terrified that he could burn them all. He barrels through a crumbling building trying to help, but doesn’t pay enough attention to its supports and accidentally brings it crashing down. Those kinds of fuck-ups, where people genuinely question whether this all-powerful being is just too much of a risk to have around.

And it brings me to this incredible bit of dialogue from Clark to Jordan, from one of my favorite S&L episodes so far, “Broken Trust” --

I told you, your powers come with responsibility, and I need you to get that. [...] That anger you felt that made you want to use your powers the way you did tonight? I have those feelings too. [...] But I keep them in check. Otherwise, I risk losing the trust of the very people I’ve sworn to protect.

When I first showed up in Metropolis as Superman, there was a lot of talk about what the world should do with someone who had powers like mine. And it took me a minute to realize that other people were more afraid of what I could do than I was. So what I had to do, more than anything, was earn their trust. Prove to them that no matter what, I would never use my powers to hurt them.

Twenty years later, every time I use my powers, that trust is tested. Every time. Just today, in fact.

It takes Clark a little while to really, truly figure this out. He doesn’t quite have a grasp on just how terrifying he can be if he’s not careful. Especially because he’s finally reached a place where he can truly trust and accept himself, after years of not know who or what he even is -- but that trust and acceptance doesn’t automatically extend to everyone else. On top of that, he is just so young. He becomes Superman at 22. He’s still figuring out how to be a regular adult, as well as a hero.

It’s something he has to rely on Lois for at times, probably before she even knows who he really is. Going to her as Superman and asking for help making sure that his intentions are coming across as clearly and non-threateningly as possible. And trusting Lois to tell him when he’s making a mistake.

And it’s still a process, even decades later. The “just today, in fact” from Clark’s dialogue is referring to this just a few hours prior.

If Clark had had just a little less control, lost his temper just a little bit more, he could have incinerated someone. In fact, seeing Superman that pissed was what got the soldiers to lower their guns -- he basically scared them into submission.

Clark even tells Lois in “Fail Safe” that the fear of losing his control and letting go scares him, to the point where he ensures that someone he trusts has the ability to kill him if necessary --

I have been controlling my powers every second of every day for almost forty years. But when Zod took over, for the first time, I felt what it was like to let go. To really let go. [...] And I’m not saying I want this to be true, I wish it wasn’t... but it felt good. It felt really, really good. That feeling worries me. If there’s even the slightest chance that I could be manipulated again with that desire to let go... the world needs a way to stop me.

It just shows that the test is never-ending. Clark doesn’t have the liberty to just behave however he wants -- not without risking becoming the monster that some people already fear that he is. Even knowing full well what he needs to do to maintain people’s trust in him, it’s not always easy following through.

#i feel like this started as one thing and ended as another but i do not care #( about )#( meta )

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wind-sage-serin · 1 year

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Guess I’m making a post regarding my place as an agent of Her Grace.

My name is Daphell, I consider myself of Koshia lineage and I am a major protector of Serin Kyneri. He kept me sane during the most harrowing period of my life and that gratitude bound us together all the way into this life, where I was his first and most early headmate.

I was born post-Calamity, the grandchild of Link’s unnamed and little-known younger sister, who had fled to Kakariko for asylum. In my particular timeline, the hero did not survive his stay in the Shrine of Resurrection, and Hylia brought him back as me. That being said, I was a latent hero— it wasn’t until later that the signs would even show.

My father and sisters live in Kakariko. My mother was killed by Yiga the same day I was taken hostage. My father knew, as he was an agent meant to spy in the event that the hero should return. I imagine that he knew where the hero was all this time, but he put up an amazing act.

During my decade-long capture from age 7-8 to 17-18, I came into contact with Serin. As a child I could see Serin well, but when I started showing signs of trouble he had mixtures prepared to make himself visible again. Nobody could help it— it’s a hazard of growing up.

He kept me sane all those years and his company was endearing, especially because the Yiga could not see him. This meant he was in no danger whatsoever and could come and go with no issue. Even when they tried to get a mouser of a cat, they failed to account for every crack.

Around the end of my stay they attempted to break me by feeding Malice directly into my body, essentially turning my blood into Malice. I don’t have to tell you how badly that backfired— several dead, a trail of blood as I escaped into the Gerudo Highlands. Arming Ganon’s sworn nemesis with his own tricks was just about the biggest mistake his fanboys made.

I escaped with Serin in tow and returned to Kakariko. At first, father was very nervous. He’d seen me on and off in that cell and it was hard on him. But I didn’t hold ill will against him— if he didn’t comply he’d lose even more family.

After we’d warmed up, there was a blood moon which… I almost killed someone. Luckily, the seal on my head proved useful. Unlike the others, who wear their seals to ward off Ganon’s influence, mine is explicitly meant to seal the Malice inside.

Though I often can go too far, I did my best to temper this ability. Doubly so once I went to free the Divine Beasts. The defeat of the blights were less about destroying them and more like absorbing their matter. So I guess I’m just even more monstrous than before. Great.

Regardless I took care of the ensuing disasters. I had made it clear early on to Her Grace that once my service was done She needed to find a new heir to the Hero’s role. I was beyond done after the horrors I had endured, and even with that, my blood and (likely) my spirit were tainted by the Blood Moon and I did not feel comfortable stepping into a role so sacred.

But as I went on my quests, I grew fond of the Picori who had assisted me. It was hardly anything beyond platonic, but I am of the belief that the gratitude he made me feel kept me from succumbing to Malice. And so I asked Hylia if I could follow him, wherever he was going to go when he passed.

His own passing wish was more personal, but alas I was given into this life with him and since then I’ve protected him.

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intangibly-here · 3 years

Text

it’s a fact (that i want you in my life)

various (diluc, kaeya, xiao, zhongli)

- scenarios; 6.8k words - gn!reader - fluff & angst - hurt/comfort - warning: description of injuries/blood, mild cursing

————————————————————

is it really so hard to be understood?

[argument & reconciliation scenarios]

title from mckay, jeff bernat - angel 2 me.

requested by @nanana-kashi

————————————————————

❥ diluc

it’s a chilly evening, as always.

you trod down the dusty path, steps kicking up clouds of dirt and sending pebbles skidding as you walk. the dim glow of street lamps illuminate the edges of your figure, passing under them on your stroll returning home. you take carefully measured steps past the countless rows of grapevines, past the stone walls of the building’s perimeter, and arrive at the polished front doors.

the dawn winery is quiet in the evening, only the chirping of crickets filling the silence, whereas servants would fill the air with talk and work during the day. fishing out a key from your pocket, you unlock the door with a click.

all that meets you when you enter is more silence. empty again.

diluc has always been a busy man. he’s a hard worker, as are all of the people that surround the two of you are, and he carries the heavy weight of an entire legacy on his shoulders. recently, however, he’s been especially illusive, managing the angel’s share during waking hours and working undercover as the “darknight hero” so to speak throughout the evenings.

while it’s not out of the ordinary for diluc to work nights on end, it is unusual that you haven’t caught a glimpse of him at all, between visiting the angel’s share during his usual shift or roaming the paved streets of mondstadt. even asking charles himself remained fruitless.

“my sincerest apologies, but i haven’t seen him. i’d thought he was with you.”

it’s even more unusual that he hadn’t told you a word of what he’s been up to. were you that untrustworthy?

you close the door with a resigned sigh, removing the bow that’s been strapped to your back and resting it against the wall across from the entrance. your pull your gloves off, the mahogany leather of it reminding you of ruby eyes and stiff clothing. they drop into a box rested on a nearby shelf. the unsettling silence closes in around you, and for a moment, you breathe in a strikingly painful loneliness. it fills your chest uncomfortably, like it’s carving out a hollow space in-between your ribs, gnawing at your heart. then, you breathe out, and the discomfort dissipates. no, he trusts you. you know you both do.

even so, something shifts wrong inside you without diluc here.

you’re not sure how to feel about it.

you minutely fiddle with your ring, cool silver pressed against warm skin, finger tracing the simple engravings carved into it with care. it’d been your request for something subtle, away from the flashiness of blinging jewels and rare stones.

he’ll be back soon.

you say this, turn the words over and over in your head just as you turn the ring on your finger, but you know better than that. you had truly believed it the first day, but then the first day bled into a second, a third day into a fourth, a fifth, sixth, seventh—

and now you stand here on the eighth day by the arching doors, inside the enormous mansion, cold and disappointed and alone.

you shake your head, chastising yourself internally. it’s no use worrying yourself down over it. dropping the rest of your belongings in a pile by the foot of the bed, you scratch the back of your head and turn to the bathroom. best to run yourself a shower and get to bed quickly. the whirring of crickets and fireflies keep you company ‘till the sound of splashing water erases the quiet.

you’re toweling your hair off, foggy wisps of steam trailing behind you as you leave the bathroom, when you hear the resounding click of the front door.

diluc?

leaving the towel hanging around your neck, you walk to the entrance room where the man you’ve been waiting for stands upright, glancing at you when you enter. it only lingers for a second, before darting back to his own hands.

“welcome home.”

“thanks.”

the clock ticks in the heavy silence.

“not going to say anything?”

he lifts his head up to face you properly for the first time in a week, confused. fiery red hair shuffles with his movements, and he releases it from the confines of his hairtie. “what is there to say?”

you take a deep breath, shoulders rising, then falling again. you fiddle with your ring again. “we haven’t seen each other for days, and there’s nothing you want to say?”

“...” he purses his lips.

“i’ve been looking for you.”

diluc looks away. “..i’ve been busy.”

your stare turns frostier by the second, the beginnings of a bonfire starting inside you. oh really now? just an ‘i’ve been busy’? “busy enough that you couldn’t spare even a second to let me know that you were doing okay?”

he bristles at your chilly tone, hackles rising, and body turning sharply away, apparently preoccupied with hanging his coat up. “i don’t need you to fret over me like— like this.”

the words have you suddenly losing all your temper, leaving behind only the dredges of a deep-seated sorrow.

“am i not allowed to worry about my husband?”

his untold frustration seems to only grow at the dimming fire flickering out in your eyes, and his eyes narrow. still, he stays silent, a brooding look on his face. it wars with the thinning desperation you unconsciously let yourself show tonight.

“ —even if you won’t tell me what you’re up to, why won’t you see me at all?”

the loosening hold on your emotions is gripped tight once more at the deafening silence not unalike how it were even without him. your face is drawn neutral once more, and you turn to make your way back to bed.

“..alright, diluc. goodnight then.”

seems like tonight was a lost cause as well. you trail through the hallways, pausing before the door to the study. you enter against your better judgement, something pulling at you to not do this— but really, did you have to listen to that voice? something curls inside you, hurt and tired. that voice never helped with anything anyway. diluc’s still drifting, far, farther away from you and you’re still alone.

(you know your emotions are getting the better of you, but you just can’t help it. how are you supposed to handle something you’d never dealt with before?)

standing before a relatively smaller bookcase, you reach up to pull out a book rather carelessly—

diluc opens the door, a regretful nervousness on his face and brow furrowed, to see the heavy wooden shelf tumble onto you. his eyes widen, and he lunges forward.

thud.

you blearily blink your eyes open a couple times to dim spots floating across your vision. two distinct voices murmur somewhere in the vicinity of the room. last you remember, you’d left diluc at the front door... and went to pick out a book for the study.. and oh.

so you’re recovering now, you’d assume.

you trace the bandages on your head with sublime caution. the door clicks shut, bringing you out of your thoughts, and you tilt your head on the pillow. red. it’s diluc. he’s in his casual attire, plain white top and black slacks, but is still so stunning. maybe even more so than his regular clothing.

diluc whips where he was staring at the door towards you, eyes wide and hand flying to his face. it’s flushed a brilliant crimson pink.

oops.

snapping out of his daze, diluc rushes to your side and kneels by the bedside. your mouth opens to protest his actions, then pauses, and closes again. it’s about time you receive an explanation. you two are past unnecessarily polite formalities. he grasps your hands in his calloused ones like a lifeline.

“i’m so, so sorry, my love.” he stumbles over his words, almost like he’s choking them up from the bottom of his heart. maybe he is. “i didn’t want to get you caught up in the— the incompetence of the knights, and all the troubles that come with cleaning up after them.”

he glances away at the floor, gazing somewhere you can’t reach him.

“...all it brings is sorrow.”

he takes a shaky breath, and his eyes glisten from underneath his mussed bangs. his hands tremble in yours, and your eyes soften. you run a hand through his hair in a silent gesture. continue when you’re ready. it’s alright.

“a-and so i didn’t tell you, didn’t go to find you. there was a really— really unexpected gathering of abyss mages, and i didn’t want you to get involved. but you’re right— i shouldn’t need to hide it or avoid you because of it. i’m—”

he chokes back a sob, wiping furiously at his eyes, and for a moment, it reminds you of how he was before everything happened. how bright he was. how open. but it’s of no importance any longer, and you brush the stray thoughts aside. mature or not, cheery or not, he is still diluc. he is still the man you love.

“it’s okay, love. it’s okay.” you shush his sobbing gently, cupping his face in the palm of your hands. “i forgive you. i always will.”

you nudge him up from the floor and into downy bedsheets, nestling him in front of you. encircled in your embrace, diluc huddles closer to you, sniffling all the while.

“when the bookcase fell on you, i was so scared. i— i thought you’d...”

he trails off, face buried in the crook of your neck. you can feel him pressing his cheek into it, nuzzling closer. you lean your head against his in a comforting manner, i’m here love, and the heavy conversation peters into a soothing silence. you both move in tandem with your breathing, intertwined and floating in the newfound peace.

“..’m love you...”

but a whisper in the (welcomed, for once) silence, diluc drags out the mumbled syllables childishly, probably embarrassed from the entire ordeal. you press a warm kiss to the top of his head and smile for once, affectionately, softly, sweetly—

“love you too, diluc.”

❥ kaeya

sometimes, just sometimes, the personality of kaeya alberich, mister cavalry captain of the knights of favonius, gets on your nerves.

kaeya is sly and sweet-talking, words sharp and lined with double meanings left and right. even at night, tucked into each other and settling into the quiet of drowsiness, teasing words will slip out of his lips and leave you either furiously blushing, firing back at him, or cracking up in full blown laughter— most of the time.

his joking manner is what drew you to him, the way he’s the spark in the room and how he brightens up your life with every passing moment.

it is also what is pushing you away now.

you know you’re being stupid. his joking and teasing is just one of the many parts of the man you fell in love with, inseparable and intertwined. it’s just kaeya being— well, kaeya. and it’s a wonderful part of him that you’d never want him to give up on.

the thought itself doesn’t exactly help when you’re spiraling into a pit of unwanted emotions.

lately, you’ve been heading home late, exhausted and worn out from putting everything into your job during the day. you hadn’t anticipated the rain to come down so hard and in turn didn’t bring an umbrella, resulting in absolutely waterlogged clothes and soggy shoes as you neared the pathway up to your home. today, you’d just like a little soft peace and quiet.

the thought stings like a sharp slap to the face when you open the door to kaeya’s unusually boisterous laughter (usually it’s less... annoying than this...), the room smelling thickly of wine. you can hear the clink of glass against glass from where you’re standing in the doorway.

whenever kaeya happens to consume alcohol, he becomes rowdier than ever; this incident is no exception. you shake your head and sigh. apparently kaeya is sober enough to notice you, because he looks over at you and grins in a telltale sign of mischief.

(not sober enough to recognize your breaking point it seems.)

“kept me waiting long enough, sweetheart! look at poor lil’ lonely me, sitting here with only this wine to keep me company.” he shakes the bottle in his hand, pouring another glass, taking another sip. “don’t you think i deserve a little something? maybe—”

the rest of his words are drowned out in the buzz of your mind, piling on your strained emotions. it’s so much. too much. (it’s unreasonable, you know you know you know, but you can’t stop, won’t stop, it won’t stop—)

does he not see you?

the words fly out of your mouth before you can reign in your haywire thoughts—

“would you just shut up? asshole...”

—anddd you didn’t mean to say that.

the rainwater drips from your clothes and pools onto the floor in a miserable puddle. the shocked look on his face and the thump of the wine botte falling to the floor says enough to send you turning on your heels back into the pouring rain. the door slams shut behind you almost achingly as you run wherever your feet will take you.

stupid stupid stupid! why did you say that! your head throbs in a mixture of hurt, guilt, and confusion. you stumble on rain-sodden ground and stray pebbles as your feet rapidly grow sore, unable to keep up with you anymore.

your legs give up from under you, and you collapse to the ground, face buried in your hands. even if you were tired, you shouldn’t have just shouted at him like that — he didn’t even know what you were upset over! you didn’t tell him!

picking the pieces of your thoughts back together as the adrenaline wears off, you unsteadily rise to your feet once more, knees shaky and weak. it’s as you’re preparing the walk home from who knows where you ran to, you hear a loud grunt from the vicinity behind you.

oh no.

just as you feared, when you turn around you’re greeted face-to-face by a shield-bearing mitachurl that’s likely strayed from its camp. its shadow looms in front of you, crawling forward as it slowly makes its way to you. you scramble for your sword, fingers digging at the buckles of your belt, then realize you had left it hanging on the sword rack at home.

(kaeya...)

the stomping grows closer, like an ominous sign, and you curse under your breath. as much as you’d like to believe you can survive this relatively unharmed, your wobbling legs and unarmed hands say otherwise.

without another moment to spare, the mitachurl dashes forward, swinging its shield as if it were weightless. you put all your effort into dodging its sweeping blows, the embedded stones whistling by your face as you scan the area in another attempt to run—

as you turn your head, the mitachurl charges in from your blindspot, slamming straight into the side of your head.

fuck.

the impact sends you falling backwards in a tangle of uncoordinated limbs and stinging scratches. the throbbing at your temple doubles over, and when you tentatively reach up to touch it, you feel it’s sickeningly sticky. blood. a lot of it.

black spots swim across your vision, and hazily, you think you hear a voice call your name in the distance. whatever it was, it’s soon drowned out by the sound of the creature stomping towards you impendingly.

hallucinating already? you bark out a hysterical laugh in spite of it all, then hunch over in a fit of hacking coughs. red streaks across the dry grass. it burns. you rub at your throat. any further efforts would be futile. you know a hopeless situation when you see one— or in this case, are in one.

thump.

another bruise blooms on your leg, and you wince. closing your eyes, your fuzzy conscious awaits its silence. there’s a swoosh, the raising of the mitachurl’s shield, and you brace your body for the impact—

“love, you— what— i—“

something, someone, lifts you up, up, up. and you’re drifting, carried in gentle arms and smooth fabric. the air grows heavier, the whistling of finely honed swordsmanship hanging in the wind, and the thundering steps draw to an abrupt stop. a familiar voice trickles into your ears, but your mind is sinking sinking...

(it trembles.)

on the edge of your sopor, just before you fall into its depths, you feel a clammy hand clutch yours. it’s warm.

mind empty, the bone-deep exhaustion swallows you, vision fading to black.

you awaken to soft white sheets and bandages looped round your arms. your muscles scream at you when you try to rise, flames of pain crawling up your torso and singing your nerves. a grimace paints itself across your face, and you slump back against the pillows. what had happened again...?

the lock clicks, door swinging open, and you turn your head to face it. kaeya steps in, a tray in hand as he closes the door with a twist of his hand. when he raises his head, his eye widens, and you can see the faint bags under it, red rimmed at the edge. you purse your lips, heart panging in your chest.

neither of you speak when he shuffles to the bedside, setting the tray down on the nightstand and picking up a stray pillow that had fallen to the ground. it must’ve been when you’d just woken up; you hadn’t noticed. he tucks in back into its spot behind your back, propping it to help you sit a bit more upright. he doesn’t retrieve his hands from where they rest on top of yours.

you start, “kaeya, i’m so—”

he doesn’t let you continue, pressing a finger to your lips.

“sweetheart, i should be the one saying that.” he ruffles your hair endearingly, expression both relieved and pained at the same time. “i was drunk and just let you run out there—” he pauses. “i pushed it too far.”

you can feel the start of tears welling at the corners of your eyes, hands trembling and teeth wearing at your bottom lip. “...i still should’ve spoken up. you wouldn’t have known otherwise.”

he smiles warmly, genuinely, the cheerful glint in his eye sparkling at you through glossy eyes. “then next time, speak up, alright darling? we both can learn from this.” you nod, and he cups your face, thumbing the rims of your eyes and the side of your cheeks where rivulets of tears paint transparent rivers.

“may i kiss you?”

there’s a lot more to unpack to your actions, both your physical injuries and mending the worn strings of your minds, but for now—

you nod wordlessly once more and lean in, meeting him in a soft, sweet kiss. he wraps his arms around you in a familiar hug that you’ve sorely missed and pulls back, pressing more small, but equally as sweet kisses across your face.

—for now, this is enough.

❥ xiao

“you need to take better care of yourself!”

xiao rolls his eyes, crossing his arms in protest like a child. he sure is acting like one right now. why is it that he’s only like this when it comes to medicine? every time... you grimace at him, glaring threateningly and shaking the porcelain bottle in your hand. the round pills roll over each other, rattling in the container.

“xiao...”

xiao just huffs and snarks back, turning his face away as if it’d do anything.

“i’m doing fine. adepti don’t need medicine.”

it’s a weak argument, and he knows it. why is he fighting this so much? it’s just taking painkillers. no matter; it’s time to put in the finishing argument.

“it’s from zhongli.”

the statement has him freezing in place, chewing his bottom lip nervously. of course it’s the mention of zhongli that has him finally seriously considering listening to you. petulant kid. can’t believe you’re really dating this thousand-year-old child.

“i—”

he cuts himself off and goes silent for a beat, another argument on the tip of his tongue, but accepts the medicine in defeat anyway. you drop the little jar into his outstretched hand, and he pockets it in a flash. now if it were only that easy from the beginning...

“fine. but you have to stop nagging me so much.”

you can agree with that one.

“alright, it’s a compromise.”

unconsciously, his mouth draws into a pout, and you chuckle, dipping down and kissing his cheek. his face shifts from awkward confusion to sudden realization, immediately stiffening up and stalking off in a mere shadow of his usual cool.

if you spy the pink flushed tips of his ears and the prominent blush on his cheeks as he leaps off the balcony, you keep it to yourself.

so much for taking care of yourself.

“and you were saying?”

the door slides open, frame rattling as the illustrations of one panel swallows the other. xiao in all his midget glory strides in, footsteps careful as he closes the door behind him. a tray is balanced in one hand as he does it, somehow steadier than you’ve ever actually held a tray before. even with two hands. is this an adeptus thing too? expert, perfect, unbelievably infallible tray holding? you can tell from the expression on his face as he makes his way over that something’s tipping him off. he’s definitely grimacing, like he would when you said something unbearably stupid— in his terms of course. not yours.

is he a mind reader too? wasn’t that only a rex lapis thing? like with the prayers?

“you look like shit.”

even worse than earlier goes unsaid. his face is typical frosty-xiao, but his brows are furrowed and disbelief shines in his eyes. guess it wasn’t your thoughts after all. but actually, did you really look that bad?

“yes, it’s that bad. now sit up so you can eat.”

whoops.

holding yourself from making any snide comebacks, you move to touch your cheek as you sit up, a little shocked when it actually makes contact with the back of your hand; it feels as though your face was set in front of an open fireplace. a damp towel drops off your forehead, plopping on the blankets. it’s lukewarm. huh, didn’t notice that before.

removing the used towel, xiao sets the tray down on your lap meticulously. now closer, you can see the plates of cold noodles and steaming bowls of jewelry soup sitting on the wooden tray. the smell is incredibly appetizing, as expected of smiley yanxiao, and you take care in preparing to eat the sumptuous meal.

“aw, thanks xiao.”

he turns his head away habitually, too shy to meet your eyes. you can, however, see his fingers subconsciously fiddling with the edge of his sleeve. the sun takes that moment to peek out of the clouds and through the window, outlining the contours of xiao’s face and soften his sharp features. it makes him look almost luminescent, like an angel descended from the skies, and you’re drowning in his being. he’s stunning.

feeling your stare, xiao whips his head back around, narrowing his eyes and nearly growling. like a cat, your mind supplies. your cat.

(and then you laugh at your thoughts, because xiao isn’t anyone’s. you just happen to be by his side for as long as wants you here.

and yours, him.)

“don’t stare,” he hisses, and then you can’t hold your laughter any longer, hacking out laughter at his defensive demeanor. “you- !”

he hastily picks up the pair of chopsticks on the tray, taking a mouthful of mushroom-topped noodles between them and stuffing it into your mouth. you immediately cease your chortling to chew, else you shove yourself into a choking fit.

floating bits of dust fade in and out of the sunbeams falling on the floorboards, as if playing peekaboo with the air. the noodles are perfectly seasoned, mixed with just the right amount of sesame and savory sauce to not be bland, but not taste overpowering. they’re light and easy to swallow, and xiao hands you a cup of tea as you finish your bite; his fingers brush against yours, soft and warm. you sniffle. your runny nose hinders your senses, but you can still smell the faint scent of qingxin blossoms, and a relaxed smile makes it’s way to your face as you take a sip.

this is nice.

❥ zhongli

you’d first seen morax in the midst of a fierce battle.

jueyun karst was as empty as always, save for the presence of several adepti crouching in the shadows, more than the darkness would usually hide. then, as you sat high in the branches of one of the many golden trees in the valley, feet swinging over spikes of climbing amber protruding from the ground, you sensed a change in the atmosphere. the wind whistling through the treetops and over your head shifted sharply, soft gusts transforming into howling gales that had you falling backwards.

cursing under your breath, you gripped the branch tightly, face scrunched in a grimace. by the time the turbulent winds had stopped, your hair blown astray in a hilarious mess and your back rebalanced against the trunk of the tree, a squirming, inky mass of something had appeared, hovering in the air just above the ground. it steadily grew in both physical size and energy, the air humming and pulsing with it’s indiscernible movements, until it towered at the height of the larger trees, far larger than any human could.

you could feel the surrounding adepti grow increasingly concerned, their energy fluctuating wildly, but they showed no signs of movement. why? shouldn’t they be neutralizing this threat? your feet pick up their movement again from where they’d stilled during the storm, swinging back and forth. forwards. the lump of dark energy steps towards the harbor. backwards. another step. forwards. it pauses in its steps, unfurling its wings. back-

thump.

so that would be why they hadn’t moved. almost as if heaving a sigh of relief, the chaotic energy of the adepti lurking nearby immediately deflate, retreating back into a neutral state. oh hoh, a big shot? when a gold-pattern embellished white robe emerges from a tear in empty space, you nearly topple over from your spot in the tree. bingo.

the storm clouds in the sky poured as they fought, the sound of pattering raindrops both filling your ears and serving as a backdrop to the clashing of metal and vicious growls. as you watched him fight, the prime adeptus rex lapis, lithe form crossing blows with the distorted form of an abyssal beast, you knew from somewhere deep in your soul that something was bound to change.

(it was when you were leaping down from the tree to leave, silently thanking him with a glance in his direction, that your gazes interlocked. morax made for an awfully odd sight when he had both a curious spark gleaming in his eyes and a dissolving corpse at his feet. and well, if it got even odder when he invited you to tea, that would be his problem, not yours— even if you had accepted the offer.)

soon after, in the days following that first “meeting”, you’d seen zhongli (as he preferred to be called) in town, lingering indecisively around various stalls both big and small. noticing his dilemma, as a good friend (if you could be considered that; you’d only watched him slaughter a demonic monster and talked over tea once after all) you walked over and helped him out.

multiple tea outings, three bags of mora and several weeks later, zhongli is looking into your eyes— and wow, this is really reminding you of your first meeting, where he was beating the shit out of that thing while you all just sat around and waited for him to be done and— he’s getting closer? please say this is going where you hope it’s going—

evidently you win this time, because zhongli moves forward and presses his (soft, soft, soft—) lips to yours in a breathtakingly warm kiss.

he tastes faintly like the sweet syrup of the almond tofu you’d shared earlier, and the moment he draws his head back to allow you a breath, you pull him back in for another.

your shoes step soundly against polished flooring as you enter the doorway of liuli pavilion, soft chatter drifting between the rhythmic click-clacking of your stride. the waitress greets you politely as you walk in, taking a glance at the clipboard she’s holding, then gesturing for you to follow her.

“based on your attire and the time, you must be the one mister zhongli is waiting for, no?”

to the assenting dip of your head she gives her own in return, leading you through the back doors and to a secluded table out in the open. settled by the railing overlooking the harbor is zhongli, pristine as always, sipping a steaming cup of tea.

he doesn't notice you at first, attention trained on the book lain out on the table, but then you're sliding into your seat with a quiet thank you to the waitress, chair audibly scraping against the pavement, and he looks up. remarkably deep amber eyes meet yours, but then again, you’re not meeting a random passerby now, are you?

(you’re not wooing just anyone.)

or at least, that’s what you’d thought. however, by the time he’s mentioned guizhong for the— what, 5th time tonight? you can’t say you’re completely unfazed. guizhong was his partner in war, best friend, closest companion; of course he would talk about her. it’s only natural now that you’re getting to know each other more.

yeah. natural.

you rest your head on the palm of your hand, leaning forward onto the table. the glass of wine in your other sloshes against its confines. your eyes follow it as the liquid tips and turns over itself, deep mahogany flowing into semi-opaque purples and vibrant reds.

guizhong. she’s an inarguably important part of his very, very long past. you understand this— but really, did he have to talk about her regarding every single thing? it’s as if— as if you were just— just there. you’re missing something. there’s a label for this feeling, you know there is, but it’s only escaping your mind the more you think about it. just what is it...?

“the leaves of this tea have been harvested from wild glaze lilies themselves, then additionally infused with the purified essence of glaze lily blossoms. countless meticulous steps and tremendous efforts must have been taken to execute this brew as splendidly as it was. it is most definitely an exquisite tea befitting of guizhong’s legacy.”

zhongli pauses, then sighs wistfully, a reminiscent expression painted on his face.

“an... unfortunate end she had. time never stops, neither for gods nor mortals alike.”

ah, yes. irreversible, unalterable, set in stone. you’ve heard these words so many times over, no matter how eloquently they’d been reshaped and rephrased. no matter how different they’d sounded every time. no matter how much you wished you could stop overthinking it.

looking less like a new romantic interest and more like a replacement, you chuckle inwardly to yourself as zhongli stares out over the harbor, a new mortal friend to chat with. the thought hits a little too close to home, and oh that was the word you were looking for.

you are just a replacement.

how could you not be? you see how zhongli looks when he talks about her. though he doesn’t say it outright, you know he loved her.

still loves her.

and so, who— no, what are you but just another someone?

and here you were thinking you were someone special. of course you just had to stick your nose somewhere it didn’t belong.

you’d really thought you could keep your head cool in all situations; no, before all this you really had— but suddenly when emotions and love are involved, everything spirals out of your control. vile thoughts crawl up from the depths of your soul, clawing at your rationality and eating away at your want want want.

and so when zhongli turns to look into your eyes again, mixed emotions rise in your heart like bile would up your throat. the wine you’d been drinking all night loosens your tongue, and the words are slipping out of your mouth before you can take them back.

“are you really going to talk about her all night?“

fuck.

zhongli frowns for a fraction of a second, his head tilting to the side in contemplation, then parts his lips and replies:

“is there a problem with it?”

his answer makes you want to throw your head back in hysterical laughter. his energy is completely placid, which actually might make it even worse. he’s genuinely asking. genuinely fucking asking. here your head is, overrun with thoughts left and right, mind fraying at the seams, and that’s what he’s asking? is there a problem? your hand clenches and unclenches, nails digging crescents into the palm of your hand. he has to be joking.

a waiter arrives to change and refill the empty pot of tea, but immediately stiffens at the silent atmosphere. once the new tea leaves have been added and begun to steep, he immediately hightails it out of there, nearly slipping in his haste.

clink.

you set your wine glass on the tabletop. need to sober up after that one. zhongli still looks faintly puzzled, but allows you to do as you wish, and you both watch as steam floats up from the spout of the teapot. pouring a cup of glaze lily tea, your mind taunts, you take a sip to clear your head.

huh. that’s odd.

you pull the porcelain rim away from your mouth, tilting the cup to stare at its contents. nothing is out of the ordinary, and the tea smells as fragrant as ever, but there’s a particular... sweetness to it? if it were any more bitter you wouldn’t have payed it attention, but the brew shouldn’t be.. sweet?

“zhongli, did you add anything to the tea?”

the bewilderment on his face only grows.

“i don’t believe so? nothing other than the tea itself should be present...”

the corner of your mouth quirks down, eyes still inspecting the tea dredges in the cup. then why was the tea... was it really just your taste buds? a foreboding feeling sends shivers down your spine, and it’s building building building—

zhongli’s eyes suddenly widen, and he startles back from the table like a frightened colt. his head whips to the side, spear immediately appearing in his hand, and he draws his shoulder back at a speed you hadn’t seen before. the tip slices through air and hits its mark instantaneously, pinning the waiter from earlier to the wall he was lurking behind. zhongli rises from his seat, the tips of his hair glowing amber, and promptly knocks the man out with a blow to his neck. the waiter lets out a choked sound, then slumps unconscious. a crumpled piece of paper falls from his pocket.

instructions. zhongli understands what’s happened the moment he picks up the piece of parchment. most likely sent because of the swindling incident yesterday. a desperate last-resort attempt at ridding the millelith of a witness.

dexterous fingers begin to unfold the note.

but why implement such an unskilled assassin? they barely had any killing intent whatsoever, else they would have been noticed sooner. there are no weapons other than this dagger on them either... his eyes swiftly scan the contents of the note, and all at once, everything falls into place.

the tea. he should’ve realized it sooner.

the clatter of rattling dishes sounds from behind him, and he spins on his heels, staring wide-eyed—

red red red stains your hand and drips through your fingers, spilling out of your mouth and splattering the ground. red. your throat makes a garbled noise, not unalike the one made by the waiter just moments before, and your eyes dilate out of focus, rapidly glazing over. red.

you collapse in your chair, and all he can see is red.

picking you up carefully in his arms, he closes his eyes (from the red red—) and teleports to the pharmacy.

a single plead hangs in the air.

you jolt awake, hand flying to your mouth and chest heaving anxiously. you can still taste the metallic tang of blood. your blood.

then, as you’re trembling from what could have been a brush with death, firm arms wrap themselves around you, tucking you securely into a warm chest.

“shh... it’s okay. it’s okay.”

a low voice murmurs reassurances to you, cradling you in safety and tranquility. zhongli runs his hand through your hair soothingly, bringing you down from the frantic state you’d awoke to, and now you can recognize where you are. zhongli’s living room. you’re settled on his lap, gathered in his hold, and you can feel his steady breathing against you, a stark contrast to your own labored breaths. it’s when he’s sensed that you’ve regained rationality that he begins to explain.

“you were out for a few hours and collapsed due to the poisoning that was originally intended for my consumption. i sincerely apologize for that. it was an unfortunate mishap.”

his voice is smooth and saccharine sweet as he talks, a deep rumble that you can feel as you lay your face on his chest. he takes it on himself to explain a little further of what happened while you were unconscious, which you are grateful for so you can sort your... thoughts out, from before the interruption.

(while he brushes over the matter of carrying you in his arms rather perfunctorily, it still lights a warm flame in your heart. you want this to work out. desperately.)

when his narration peters out to a natural quiet, the muffled hum of early morning workers bustling about outside, you ask the question that’s been on your mind since the very beginning of your outing.

“is this,” you gesture to him, to you, to the comfort, the hugs, the love, “because of guizhong too?”

understanding finally washes over zhongli’s face in subtle waves, and he gives the most mesmerizingly fond smile to your doubting question. a rich chuckle bubbles up from his chest, the endearing tinge to it only pushing your slight confusion forward.

“ah, so this is what your previous question was mentioning.”

his eyes soften, the smudge of red under them only making the gold of his irises bloom even further. the hazy look in his eyes makes you feel like he’s drifting. you can recognize that well enough.

(drifting away from you, a faint bite of a bitter voice whispers.)

“yes, i did love guizhong. she’d departed from this land all too soon for me to convey it, and it is one of the few things i still regret to this day.”

the words spark a pang in your chest, the sharp, tingling-sour kind that reminds you of unripe sunsettias and overly spiced mint, but you take a deep breath and it fades. you should hear him out. you need to. you want to.

“i retold my memories with her to you because they were... my happiest memories. they were all i had to speak of, other than the redundant miscellaneous knowledge i’ve retained over the years. i’d thought you’d rather hear of happy experiences rather than the long tangents i can run myself off of. i’ve been properly chastised by this incident nevertheless.”

he gently tilts your head up from where it’s buried in the front of his silk shirt, wiping away the stray tears that roll down your cheeks. you sniffle and wait for him to finish speaking, chest already lightening.

“however, remember this— while i did love guizhong, you are not a mere semblance of her for me to retain by my side.”

he calls your name softly, reverently.

“my love, you are not a replacement. the one i’m in love with now is you.”

relief, warmth, and love love love surges in your chest altogether as he smiles gingerly, and you cup his face with your own hands, feeling the heat of his flushed cheeks against your palms.

his lips are plush, soft against your own chapped ones as you draw him into a kiss spelling all the things you couldn’t say out loud. that you were frustrated at the thought of being a rebound for him. that you were terrified at the thought of dying with regrets. that you were unimaginably relieved at his explanation.

that you love him too.

zhongli takes it all into stride, leading your hands to rest on his waist as his own cup the back of your head and nape of your neck. he kisses fully, wholeheartedly, lips moving tenderly against yours, giving back what you’re bringing forward to him, for him, in equal measure. it feels right.

thank you, zhongli.

1K notes · View notes

rocorambles · 3 years

Text

Two Wrongs Equal a Right

Pairing: Bakugo x Reader

Prompt: Eavesdropping

Summary: Eavesdropping isn’t right, but maybe...just maybe sometimes the end justifies the means

A/N: This is for the Anylisum’s SFW collab. Masterlist can be found here. Enjoy!

You giggle, laying your head on Tsu’s shoulder as you catch your breath from the impromptu dance party happening in the dorm room led by no other than Mina. You love the boys, but this is nice, hanging out with just the girls, chatting about fashion and makeup, doing face masks and braiding hair, pretending you’re just normal high school girls and not heroes in training. The boys had sulked, pouting and complaining about why all of you couldn’t hang out together like you always do. But all of you had just smiled and cheekily waved as you locked the dorm room shut behind you.

They’ll be fine. You’re sure they’ll find something to bond over themselves and you laugh at the thought of them doing some impromptu sparring or shouting at each other over a video game.

Yes, they’ll be just fine doing something normal high school boys do. Definitely not quietly crowding around the other side of the dorm door, trying to eavesdrop on what all of you are saying and doing like they’re doing right now.

The boys of class 1-A aren’t nearly as subtle as they think they are accidentally banging foreheads and elbowing each other to try and press their ears against the vertical surface. But luckily for them the combination of the music and your voices drown out their scuffling and they eagerly listen in, curiosity keeping their attention rooted to the commotion on the other side of the barrier.

“That’s not fair. I want to dance too!”

“Shut up, Aoyama! They’re going to hear you.”

The hushed bickering continues as the boys continue to subtly bop their head to the music, trying to make out the snippets of conversation between the rhythmic beat and laughter. But they all freeze, even attempting to quiet down their breathing as the music finally stops.

Is the night over? Do they need to make a run for it before the door opens and they’re caught red handed?

Their questions are answered when after some scuffling and movement the girls resume talking and there’s a palpable sense of relief as the boys relax, leaning in once more to decipher what’s being said.

What girls night would be complete without boy talk? You all knew this topic was bound to come up in this safe all-female haven, but there’s still a tittering of nervous and shy giggles when Ashido brings up the topic with a mischievous grin plastered across her face.

It takes some prodding and some patience, but to no one’s surprise Uraraka is the first to speak up and you all smile knowingly when she begins to ramble on and on about Deku, how much she respects him, how observant he is, how hardworking he is…

“We get it. You like Deku! Seriously it would be shocking if you two didn’t eventually start dating.”

“Think about how cute that would be! A romantic hero couple fighting villains and saving the world together.”

Uraraka’s face is so red you think she might burst, but you hide a smile at the fact that there isn’t even a hint or sound of denial from her as she accepts the good-natured teasing. Unknown to all of you, Deku’s face matches Urarka’s extreme shade of red and the boys smile and nudge him playfully, waggling their eyebrows teasingly.

The light-hearted banter has broken the ice and Momo is the next one to open up, demurely looking at the ground and swiping a stray bang behind her ear as she quietly praises Todoroki for his amazing skills and how rapidly he’s learned and improved during his time at U.A. But what she isn’t expecting is the outpouring of support she herself receives from all the girls about how smart and resourceful she is and how quick on her feet she is. And Todoroki silently nods his head in affirmation of the deserved recognition she receives.

One by one everyone shares their thoughts on their male counterparts, but it’s Ashido who makes everyone burst into laughter once more when she practically screams her approval of Kaminari and Kirishima and how cool and manly they can be, imitating their signature moves as best as she can to everyone’s amusement.

However it doesn’t go unnoticed how Bakugo’s name isn’t brought up and it just seems right to bring him into the conversation if the other two musketeers are being discussed. There’s thoughtful pondering and the girls quiet down as they think of their blonde classmate.

“He’s smart and talented.”

“He’s pretty good looking.”

But there’s an almost unanimous vote that his temper is a little bit...scary. Almost.

The boys try their hardest to stifle their howls of laughter as Bakugo begins to deeply scowl, looking like he’s ready to storm away. But everyone shuts up, eyes going wide when your voice travels through the air.

“I actually think his attitude is kind of cute. He’s like an angry chihuahua. All bark, no bite.”

There’s silence as everyone on both sides of the door processes your words, even Bakugo looks uncharacteristically stunned. And then there’s chaos as the girls begin to loudly question your sanity and the boys hold back a raging Bakugo who’s seconds away from kicking down the door and confronting you.

Needless to say there is no more eavesdropping done that night as it takes the entire male population of 1-A to wrestle Bakugo away and safely back to his dorm room.

Cute? CUTE?

Bakugo can’t remember the last time anyone has called him that damned word, if anyone ever has. Not even his own mother has called him anything remotely as nauseatingly endearing as that recently. There’s nothing about him that’s cute. He’s not cute. He HATES anything cute. Yet as he’s barricaded in his room and forced to mull over your words in solitude, it’s not pure rage and indignation that fills him to his own surprise.

He’s not sure exactly what he’s feeling if he’s honest and that only pisses him off more. Anger is something he knows and holds close. But this...this strange, disgusting, fluttering feeling in his stomach? He doesn’t know what that is and he grumpily forces himself to sleep, to leave all these stupid thoughts and feelings behind him. Tomorrow will be just another day of class and you’ll just be another classmate he’s forced to tolerate as he focuses on becoming a hero.

Except tomorrow does come and you aren’t just another nobody like you were before.

Unlike before where he barely even noticed your presence and walked past you like you were nonexistent, too focused on perfecting his moves, he can’t stop being aware of you. He finds himself watching you without even meaning to, observing your movements, the use of your quirk…

“Kacchan, watch out!”

Turns out even when he’s entranced by you, Deku’s damn annoying voice is enough to drag him out of his funk and he narrowly misses the debris about to rain down on him.

“What’s up, Bakugo? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you distracted-”

“I’m not distracted!”

He is distracted and he can feel his short fuse nearing its limit with every uncharacteristic stumble and sloppy movement as he can’t tear his eyes from you. And when Aizawa-sensei awkwardly tells him to maybe consider sitting out a bit until his head is clear he loses it.

Under all the rage, common sense tells him this isn’t your fault, that he’s wrongly directing his ire at you. But Bakugo clings onto his temper, that fire inside of him that fuels most of his decisions as he storms towards you and shouts at you to spar with him.

He knows he’s being too hard on you, punching and kicking you harder than he even goes against Kirishima and his hardening quirk. And he even feels a pang of guilt when he sees you wince when his fist grazes you as you try to dodge. But you don’t tell him to stop, just looking at him with determined, focused eyes holding a shocking amount of trust that he won’t take it too far and actually harm you despite how his irritation is almost visible.

It’s the same look stupid Deku looks at him with, but he doesn’t feel that familiar buildup of anger rising inside of him. Instead he feels that same strange fluttering feeling deep inside of him and his heart is racing more than it should be for the amount he’s worked out today. It’s all so...confusing and to everyone’s shock, it’s Bakugo who abruptly ends your weird impromptu spar with a scoff, shoving his hands in his pocket as he saunters away, trademark scowl on his face.

That’s only the beginning of Bakugo’s strange behavior and everyone watches anxiously as the angry blonde borderline begins to bully you on a constant basis, practically hovering next to you from the moment you leave your dorm room to the minute you go to sleep at night, growling, shouting, and even just glaring at you. But no one steps in, curious about how things will play out when they see how unbothered you are by your new volatile shadow.

Bakugo doesn’t know what reaction he expected of you. Maybe a slight hint of fear? At least some respect? But he certainly wasn’t expecting how calmly you accept your new fate, how casually you interact with him.

He’s forced to silently blink in shock as his jaw rapidly works to chew the fried egg you’ve stuffed in his mouth when he angrily tells you to sit somewhere else, deciding he wants your seat despite the bounty of empty chairs surrounding the both of you in the cafeteria. (He ends up just grumpily sitting in the available spot next to you when he finally swallows, both of you quietly munching on your breakfast together.)

But although your exchanges start off fairly one-sided with Bakugo usually trying to incite some reaction from you, everyone watches in amusement when you begin to meet him halfway. The blonde is mouthing off at you about something or another during sparring exercises which has become a typical background noise to the class by now, but everyone, including Aizawa-sensei stops in their tracks when your voice interrupts Bakugo’s rant.

“Maybe you’d be able to perfect your new technique if you spent more time practicing and less time barking at me.”

There’s a playful smirk on your face as you utter those fighting words and Aizawa wonders if today is the day he’ll have to prevent Bakugo from committing a truly villainous event. But even his jaw drops when all Bakugo does is scoff at your statement, barking at you to follow him to both your preferred area of the training grounds to resume practicing together.

Both of you look almost...friendly, exchanging punches and kicks, no heat behind Bakugo’s snarky comments, a smile on your face when you give it to him right back verbally. The upperclassmen and the pro-hero faculty watch in amused fondness as overtime Bakugo’s glowering and barking lulls down to a muted calm grumpiness as he continues to trail beside you. He’s not too different than a tamed feral kitten (not that any of them would voice that thought aloud and risk being blasted to pieces).

And as time continues on, everyone gets used to the fact that the two of you seem joined at the hip. You’re just...always together in a strange amicable friendship? Partnership? Relationship? No one knows how to exactly describe it and maybe that’s what finally leads to you overhearing an interesting conversation one morning in the dorms.

You yawn as you make your way to the common room to see who else is up, but you pause before you turn the corner from your hallway when you hear Kirishima mention your name.

“So what’s going on between the two of you. Are you dating?”

You don’t even have to peek around the bend to know who he’s talking to and your face heats up, ears perking up in anxious curiosity as you wait for Bakugo’s response. Realistically, you know you shouldn’t expect much. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less when you wait for Bakugo to shut Kirishima’s well-meaning thought down with a rude “why would I go out with that nobody” or some similar derogatory comment aimed at the idea of dating you or anyone for that matter.

Yet there’s only silence and a secret smile spreads across your face when all Bakugo finally responds with is a quiet scoff and a “it’s none of your business”.

“That’s not a no!”

“Shut up!”

Your heart is pounding as hope blossoms inside of it and you slowly countdown from ten, taking deep breaths to calm yourself down, schooling your face into as neutral an expression as possible. When your excess giddy energy is under some semblance of control, you make your presence known, bidding good morning to both boys and teasingly ruffling Bakugo’s spiky hair in a more affectionate version of a noogie. And Kirishima is left with a gaping jaw as he watches Bakugo merely roll his eyes at your antics and grunt here and there in response to your rambling as the two of you make your way to the cafeteria for breakfast together.

#mha fluff #bnha fluff #bakugo x reader #bakugo fluff #mha fic #mha imagines #mha scenarios #bnha fic #bnha imagines #bnha scenarios #mha x reader

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astaroth1357 · 3 years

Text

The MC is a Valkyrie

Demigod MC Series: Intro

Greek: Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena, Hades Pt. 2, Poseidon, Ares, Hestia, Nyx

Norse: Valkyrie

A bit of a change of pace this time! No worries, I'm not done with the Greeks or anything. I just had this idea and wanted to get it out.

Valkyries aren't really demigods, but are a part of Norse myth as the minor divinities that help choose and deliver fallen warriors to Valhalla to join the ranks of the einherjar (the souls who will fight when Ragnarok comes). Valkyries are depicted as women who are fierce warriors in their own right. Despite their place as the gatekeepers of the Chosen, they've been said to sometimes take heroes and mortals as lovers or take residence in Midgard posing as daughters of royals/nobility.

Lucifer

At first, they thought they grabbed an heiress - which would have been bad enough - but then the MC grew wings, drew a spear, and asked who among them wanted a glorious death...

How hard is it to find ONE damn human on Earth? Isn't that realm supposed to be full of them??

Diavolo was thankfully able to talk their winged friend down from skewering Asmo and accepting the exchange on behalf of the human wo-… Midgard.

Living with a Valkyrie is different for sure. The MC is a proud woman who takes her role very seriously and she's seemingly deemed him and his brothers as candidates for einherjar (despite being demons).

He's tried many, many times to explain to her that they're not interested, but she's unconvinced. Now the MC watches his brothers like a hawk waiting to cart one of them off to Valhalla! Any mortal wound could be an excuse...

He's had to save Beel and Satan twice from getting dragged to that infernal palace… For whatever reason, she seems to have taken to them the most. Is it old Norse culture to favor the brash and strong? He has no idea...

At the very least, she knows better than to try to drag him into her little plans. Though he's sure he could qualify for the einherjar (obviously, why wouldn't he?) he has no interest in leaving his life here behind.

To think he'd actually have to put surveillance on his own brothers for their safety… But they're not going to get drafted into some ancient Norse war, not if he can help it.

Mammon

She’s an heiress… An heiress!!

Well, her human world identity is an heiress to a well-respected (and rather magical) rich family but that still technically counts! She’s crazy loaded back there! He’s in love!!

The only problem is that in the Devildom she doesn’t have a cent.

… and the fact that she keeps trying to get him killed. That’s also a problem.

In a way, things are not as bad and exactly as bad as that sounds. The MC apparently wants him to go to Valhalla (dope) but she can’t just take him there… He technically has to die in some kind of “vallent battle” first.

Her solution? Pick fights with nearly anything that moves and drag him into it!

Honestly, it’s pretty annoying… Sometimes he just wants to have a fun night out without getting into a barfight, you know??

At least the MC can handle herself… Hell, he was her "babysitter" but she barely even needed him. A lesser demon once made the bad idea of trying to cup her ass and lost a hand for his trouble…

Though, what this amounts to is the MC starting something then fighting alongside him like back-to-back badasses while looking for any excuse to scoop him up and fly him to Asgard!

Why does he put up with this? Well for starters human world rich is still rich, all he has to do is get himself a portal then he's living the high life! And secondly, well… what's the harm?

Sure, she technically wants him dead but he's the secondborn! The list of people who can take him down is so slim that it's not like he's in any danger. She even fights with him so things are a piece of cake!

Is this a case where he's 100% more forgiving because she's rich? Yes. Absolutely. But a golddigger's gotta eat somehow, right?

Leviathan

Is it weird to be jealous over someone not wanting you to die...?

Okay, that's an oversimplification but Levi can’t help but feel snubbed that the MC doesn’t have any interest in taking him to Asgard. Like, none! And why not??

He’s strong! He’s tough! He’s part snake too! Don’t the Nords have a thing about that? Like, there’s a giant snake they’re all worried about?? Maybe he could communicate with it!

Logically, Levi knows that he really shouldn’t press her on this… MC is pretty much a Grim Reaper with a Norse coat of paint and Asgard doesn’t really sound like his speed. No anime, no video games, not even cable! It’s just eat, train, and drink all day… Ew.

But still… What makes him an odd one out?

At best, she just knows he wouldn't be happy there. At worst, she's underestimating his skill… or maybe she's gauged him just right? He's always known he was weak!! 😫

Oh well... at least she's not a bore to be around. Far from it. She treats EVERYTHING like a life or death trial - he's pretty sure that if he challenged her to rock, paper, scissors she'd commend him for his bravery and swear on her sisters that she won't lose.

He once made the mistake of inviting her and Simeon for a game of Devil Party and they both got so into it that they nearly had a duel to the death as a tiebreaker…

Thank Devil that the game had a pre-programmed minigame for that kind of thing… It would have gotten messy otherwise.

Well, even if his other brothers go to Asgard, he can just chill out here with Lucifer and Asmo… right…? Actually, no, that sounds horrible! MC, he changes his mind!! Take him too!!! 😭

Satan

How many times does he have to say that he doesn’t want to go to Asgard?!?

Well, okay that’s not entirely true. Out of scientific curiosity, seeing the godly realm of the old Nords would be fascinating but he doesn’t want to stay, which the MC seems to have trouble understanding…

He’s not even sure why she's singled him out for einherjar status… Any one of his brothers are powerful beings in their own right and he’s not particularly, uh, “even-tempered” himself...

His best guess is she saw him wipe out a handful of lesser demons at some point and declared him Ragnarok material. He always ends up throwing around at least three of those idiots a week so checks out…

If he's being honest, her very existence raises so many questions… Does this mean that Ragnarok is real? Will the human world be swallowed up by the sea? Will the gods of Asgard fight and die as a new world is established? When??

Unfortunately, the MC won't tell him when it all will come to pass (he suspects even she doesn't know) just that Loki will trigger it… Someone keep tabs on that guy.

Until then, he just has to put up with her attempts to convince him but his patience is wearing thin… He's pretty sure he threw a bookshelf at her once but she caught it anyway so yeah...

He did challenge her to a proper duel too but… well let's say she's a Valkyrie for a reason and leave it at that. (Being saved by Lucifer was so humiliating… He's done here, move on already!!)

Asmodeus

First things first, she's gorgeous. Beautiful! Divine! (Literally 🤭)

Now that that's out of the way… She may also have a screw or two loose.

Like, he gets it. She's a Valkyrie and snapping up strong souls is her thing but come on… Mammon? Really? Why would he get into Valhalla instead of him, huh??

Why can't he get to go to the beautiful afterlife of the old Norse with all their strapping warriors, lovely maidens, and endless partying?? It's not fair!!

Ugh… and now she's got him sounding like LEVI! How frustrating…

Well, it may not be that bad. According to MC, he'd have to do battle training in Valhalla and that wouldn't really agree with his beauty routine. Like dirt, sweat, blood, and muscles? No thanks! Not for him.

He asked MC if he could get some kind of pass, but no dice… Maybe he could still convince her to let him vacation there… Or go for a visit? Just one? Surely that couldn't be so bad right?? He's heard that Thor looks NOTHING like people think he does and he's so curious!!

The closest he's ever gotten was challenging the MC to a fashion contest for a visit, but he dropped that idea quick when she proposed that they somehow include a wrestling match in the dressing room (and he knows she didn't mean the fun kind...)

As much as he'd love to get skin-to-skin with MC, the idea of getting locked in a chokehold was less appealing for some reason. 🤔

Ah well, he'll just have to make due admiring her wonderful body clothed for the time being… There's something to be said about muscular ladies, no?

Beelzebub

So she’s almost convinced him to join the einherjar like twice now…

He’s not the best at making decisions when he’s hungry and the MC keeps hyping up the food… Apparently it’s really good up there and MC says that she’s never seen an empty platter... Just thinking about it makes his stomach do backflips.

Thankfully for him, Lucifer usually steps in before Beel can sign his soul away and reminds him that he can’t just abandon the family for a meal, even if it is a feast.

You'd think he'd be annoyed but Beel isn't really bothered by her habit of trying to bring everyone to Asgard. At least not on a personal level.

Like Lucifer, he doesn't want to see his family broken up so he'd rather she wouldn't… But she's a Valkyrie right? It's what she does. It's not like she can help it.

In a weird way, he also thinks she means well. She just respects them and wants them to have a good afterlife. It would be kind of sweet if they didn't have to die for it first…

If he's being honest, he's not that worried about it anyway. His family is pretty tough, not a lot in the Devildom can take them down. As long as they're careful, everybody should be alright. 🙂

Maybe he could get MC to make some Valhallan food for them in the Devildom… Or he could get one of those immortality apples?? Though those would extend his life wouldn't they…? Oh well...

Belphegor

Belphie's attempt to kill the MC went something like this:

Belphie: *switches to his demon form* "I can't believe you actually trusted me!"

MC: *blinks* "Oh. So you want to challenge me then?"

Belphie: "What?"

MC: "Ah, now I see! You want to fight to prove your valor then die by my hand??"

Belphie: "What are yo-??"

MC: *summons wings and golden spear* "I like your spunk, demon!! Fight me with all you have and perhaps I'll take you to Valhalla! May you join us in our fight as a brother!!"

Belphie: "What the hell are you talking about!?!"

To his credit, he put up a good fight and probably would have gotten into Asgard if Lucifer hadn't intervened to save his life.

It can be said that the MC's Valkyrie-hood took Belphie completely by surprise. Sure, he thought she was a little weird for a "human" but challenging him to a duel to the death? That came out of nowhere!

His uneasiness about her only grew after he found out that she's been literally trying to get Beel killed! How in the world were his brothers so relaxed about this?? She's insane!!

So say what you will about the MC, but she's managed to do the impossible. She got Lucifer and Belphie to make up and work together on something! (i.e. making sure she doesn't send them all to their deaths)

Between Lucifer monitoring his brothers and Belphie watching the MC, they'll keep everybody in the Devildom where they belong. That's a promise!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me demigods

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

Note

I kinda wonder, what could bakugou do (hori write bakugou to do) to make him less popular with the "anti" crowd. Like He was a horrid child no doubt and people who try to put blame on Deku or lessen the terrible shit bakugou did aren't great. But as we don't rly see it, we have to assume bakugous behaviour wasn't stopped, we only ever saw his mum "punishing" him when he was being rude after getting kiddnapped. Nothing will excuse what bakugou did, but he has stopped? He's overall a harsh person but he's not harrassing and bullying people anymore, specifically not deku, he's trying to attone for what he did to deku and has now apologised for it. His behaviour was never viewed as justified or good in the series, he's a scary figure in middle school, we're not meant to like his behaviour, so the series itself hasn't justified his actions.

As someone who relate to both bakugou and deku more than I'd like to admit (never told someone to jump tho, that's fucked lol) so I can 100% understand not liking or even hating bakugou but as someone who's not 15 anymore, looking back I also made a lot of really shitty decisions and like bakugou have tried to make up for it, and like deku I was 'friends' with people who hurt me.

Is there anything he can do for the "antis" to just dislike him rather that be "anti"?

(I'm very sorry if you've talked about this somewhere, you can just tell me to look for it if you have, I'll continue to look for your posts on the subject)

Hey there, anon! I think I’ve spoken about this only tangentially and/or in my main Bakugo meta, which is too big for anyone sane to read. So yeah, let’s chat here!

For me personally—and that’s all I can ever do: speak personally. I think it’s important to keep in mind that there is no single solution to please the “anti” crowd. Each fan will be looking for something slightly different in Bakugo’s character, much of which might contradict what a “stan” is currently enjoying. Given how charged a character he is, I'm not sure it's possible to get the entire fandom to like him—what I’m looking for hinges on having a different reading of the story than you seem to. Meaning, I think the series does justify his behavior. Not in any overt, super obvious way like having all the characters go, “Wow, Bakugo! I sure do love how you threaten people all the time. That’s super cool and heroic!” Things are rarely that straightforward. Rather, it’s in a more subtle, but consistent manner that paints a rather conclusive picture across hundreds of chapters.

Simply put, Bakugo is continually rewarded for his actions. Or, if not outright rewarded, his actions are ignored in a way that implies silent acceptance. Characters may not always like what he does... but they're willing to let it slide because Bakugo's heroism was always treated as a given, not something he had to earn and prove.

With the ever necessary disclaimer that I’m not fully caught up yet, here’s a list of some of the things that stood out to me in the first half of the series:

Bakugo’s bullying made him the most popular kid in school.

Bakugo’s bullying was ignored by/outright supported by the teachers.

Bakugo’s bullying did not hinder him from getting into U.A., one of the most prestigious hero schools around.

Despite acting horribly throughout his time at U.A. too, this behavior was continually ignored by the teachers and other authority figures around him.

Bakugo’s struggle to realize that other people aren’t “trash” doesn’t hurt his achievements in any way. He still gets top scores, still wins the tournament, etc.

Bakugo’s behavior gets him special attention from All Might, the greatest hero and Bakugo’s personal idol.

His behavior doesn’t make others dislike him in any manner that’s taken seriously. Everybody is still willing to not just put up with Bakugo, but—in time—start treating his behavior as a quirk (no pun intended lol) that they’re secretly fond of, rather than something he should legitimately be striving to change. Kirishima is the most overt example of this.

This is compounded by his behavior constantly being framed as humorous. Much like with Mineta’s perverted actions, characters might superficially go, “No, that’s bad!” but the story never demands any significant development because then we’d lose the “joke” of Bakugo screaming in rage at the slightest inconvenience, threatening to murder someone over nothing, constantly belittling everyone around him in a “funny” manner, etc. When fans talk about development of a manga character as archetypal and extreme as Bakugo, most don’t really want to see significant change to his base personality. Because then that would result in someone who doesn’t look like the “real” Bakugo: someone nicer, more even-tempered, more mature, etc. But for those of us who were never drawn to that personality in the first place, the continued acceptance of his rude, egotistical, and violent behavior is discomforting. The easiest comparison I can draw is between this and Bakugo’s mother slapping him. That slap is meant to be another “joke”—we see it constantly in shonen anime, something "humorous" you shouldn’t take too seriously because haha, it's just an overprotective mother—but many fans do take it seriously, using it as the basis for a whole “Bakugo was abused and this explains his behavior” reading. Well, I take the “joke” of Bakugo’s threats and insults seriously, especially in a story that starts with something like telling Izuku to jump off the roof. In the same way that many fans want others to treat Bakugo’s mother as a serious topic that has had a negative influence on his development, I want the series to take Bakugo’s everyday actions seriously as a negative influence on… well, everyone around him. But it doesn’t. His base personality is grudgingly adored.

The above two points are seen most overtly in Izuku, who never wavers in his respect for Bakugo despite how Bakugo treats him. Not just prior to U.A., but during their training too. Izuku, as the protagonist, is the emotional heart of this tale, so when he talks about how inspiring Bakugo is, it encourages the reader to see his behavior as inspiring too. Rather than, as said, something that needs to change. Izuku's continued friendship with Bakugo, his adoration of him, and his acceptance of the way he's treated has severely warped how the entire story sees Bakugo's actions. After all, if #pure Izuku can see the good in Bakugo, why can't everyone else? He must not be that bad after all.

I could get into detailed analyses of all the above—like how Bakugo was the one comforted after attacking Izuku outside the dorms at night and how the messed up relationship he has with Izuku is upheld as something to nurture; how the remedial courses he had to take were made to be rather silly, thereby undermining their supposed importance to his development; how Bakugo’s kidnapping had nothing to do with his flaws, but much of the fandom uses it as a way to dismiss any appropriate consequences because, “Hasn’t he suffered enough?” etc.—but in the interest of keeping this within a readable length, I’ll leave it at that. The point is that Bakugo has always been privileged when it comes to his behavior, resulting in others either outright praising it, ignoring it, or demanding that he change a miniscule bit, which always keeps him far below the standards of both his peers and the expectations of a hero. Everyone in 1-A must learn to be even better than the good people they already are... Bakugo needs to learn that other people aren't dirt at the bottom of his shoes. It's never been a particularly impressive development when pit against the rest of the class. All of which can make something like an apology feel pretty hollow. Yes, he’s apologized and I say with all seriousness that that’s great! But how does that apology stack up against 300+ chapters of content? As Bakugo’s words highlight, he's been a really awful person up "until now": he was consumed by Izuku being “miles ahead of [him],” he “looked down on [him]” because he didn’t have a quirk, he “didn’t want to recognize that,” he “hated that,” “grew distant,” “tried to beat you down,” “opposed you and tried to show my superiority over you,” and ends it all with, “it probably doesn’t mean anything telling you all this” before finally getting to the “I’m sorry.” This is basically a laundry list of how horrible a person Bakugo has been for the entire series, with an acknowledgement that this apology is coming really, really late. This is the moment where I could START to like Bakugo, depending on how he acts form here on out, but that pivotal moment arrived after six years of content and in the final arc of the story. It’s too late. Bakugo needed this kind of self-reflection and positive action 250+ chapters ago so he could (hopefully) grow into a better person across the story, not at the story's end. What we got instead is 322 chapters of him being a really horrible person, but the story going out of its way to excuse or even praise that behavior the majority of the time.

As a quick comparison to end on, I think what Bakugo needed was what Soo Jin got in True Beauty. You don’t need to have seen the drama to follow along. The tl;dr is that she has a lot of the core qualities of Bakugo: an all-consuming drive to win that was created due to abusive parents with high expectations, resulting in her bullying a peer to a pretty horrific extent. The difference between them is how the story frames their actions. When Soo Jin becomes the bully she loses everything. Rather than succeeding academically, her grades plummet, making it clear that this anxiety and self-doubt (things the fandom keeps insisting Bakugo is struggling with, but that rarely ever show up in the text) is actually impacting her day-to-day life. Her best friend drops her because she’s not going to support her choices. The boy she likes rejects her. She’s eventually forced to start over somewhere new - which importantly separates her from the girl she was bullying - and get some distance from her parents, resulting in the growth needed to become a healthier, happier, good person again. So when Soo Jin apologizes to the girl she hurt, it feels earned. The story continually recognized how horrific her actions were and put her into a place where she either had to change, or continue losing at everything else that was important to her. Bakugo? Bakugo doesn’t lose. Oh, he claims he does because he’s comparing himself to Izuku constantly, but that’s just him thinking in extremes. He still wins academically. Still wins many battles. Still wins at having friends. Still wins by maintaining the prestige of being a U.A. student. Still wins by getting All Might’s attention. Still wins by receiving Izuku’s respect and an agreement to maintain this rivalry that Bakugo is so obsessed with. Bakugo comes out well 99% of the time, he just thinks he's "lost" because he can't stand not being the absolute best.

For me, the story needed to have Bakugo face consequences for his behavior, not receive rewards and/or have others ignore it, and that revelation/apology needed to come way, way sooner. For me the issue is not a specific action that Horikoshi can have Bakugo do in the next chapter and them bam, I like him now. The problem is Bakugo’s entire concept, how he’s received by the entire cast, and his run across this entire series. "Entire" is the key word there. Which is why the “But he’s apologized. What more do you antis want?” reactions don’t sit well. What we wanted is a better written redemption arc across those 300+ chapters, not a single scene that’s meant to have us forget all the other problems inherent in the story. At this point it’s a far more complicated situation than, “Bakugo just needs to do X, Y, and Z and then we’re golden.” At the end of the day, Horikoshi failed to make me like him as a person and I’m pretty sure he isn’t going to change Bakugo enough to make him likable to me. Bakugo was never the sort of character I’d be inclined towards without a serious, nuanced redemption arc, but sadly, a core, crucial part of that redemption arc took six years to arrive. At this point there’s no way to change the problems in Bakugo’s writing for that huge chunk of the series and not enough time left in the series, it seems, to do the work we should have seen across the entire run. Honestly, idk if the Bakugo we'll get going forward is someone I can just dislike as opposed to being really uncomfortable with, but my money is on there being too little story left and too much investment in upholding Bakugo's base personality for that to happen. I could absolutely be proven wrong! But I think the problems are structural and needed to be better dealt with from page one, not hastily patched over in the final hour.

#BNHA #My Hero Academia #anti bakugo

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ignitification · 3 years

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Midoriya Izuku - Green for Hope, Red for Burning Passion

I always asked myself why exactly Horikoshi has changed Midoriya's character design so drastically.

Indeed, we go from a character called Yamikumo who looks like a feral child with the bad habit of eating his nails off, and drinks more coffee than humanly possible to an anxious bunny who smiles awkwardly and does not know how to accept compliments.

To me, the difference is absolutely insane. Izuku's hair and eyes are uniform and reflect his character and surname. However, a thing that I find peculiar is how the dark (Black/Green) and the Red theme are a constant throughout particular tellings of his character.

The legendary red shoes are one of Deku's main features. It's part of his character. However, I just got to think why exactly (especially having an idea on why was green used for him) and I think that the answer might be very very banal. However, I do think that this is not the only reason.

First of all, there is the most simple reason which I could think of: Midoriya Izuku is described as plain. In my opinion, plain does not really define Midoriya but the concept of him being bland and capable of melting into background is fundamental to express him in the most little details (however, there are few things which inwardly contradict this description: first and foremost his freckles). But as it might be, and Midoriya is indeed considered not worthy look at for more than once (at least as described in the manga - which is also one of the reason why his design has been changed so much, as Yamikumo had literally zero chance to go unnoticed), it appears clear how this suppression of character, of wanting to relegate Mido to a background role is what instead pushes Izuku forward to make a bold choice of something like wearing red shoes. They are strikingly particular, and noticeable: which means that Midoriya is not happy about being an npc, but instead wants to be noticed and in some way stand out.

The second reason, which I mulled over if was relevant enough is All Might. A recurrent color in all All Might's costumes is Red (and Blue, which kind of reminds of Superman and the American Flag. A fact that I found interesting as well if how AM wears Blue, Yellow and Red while Midoriya wears Green and Red, and of course Blue and Yellow together form Green).

And finally the third and final reason (at least, for now) is that Red, as a colour reminds Deku of Kacchan (even if arguably, we see in the first panel of the manga how Izuku wore already his shoes so this might be false and instead it might refer to the fact that Red is Izuku’s favourite colour only), who we know he associates with victory. As the mental image of Kacchan, who was red eyes, is his substitute for him being able to stand proud, strong and capable to win, Izuku might want to express this strive to be strong.

But what do these two colours mean, stand alone ?

As for Green: this colour, in different cultures, is associated with "Hope" . I think here the main gist and general going is that Midoriya represents Hope for the Heroes, Hope for the Unwanted, the Broken and the Damned (the Villains). I talked about Izuku being a Symbol of the New Society here, but in short, with Izuku Midoriya being fundamentally associated to the colour green, I think Horikoshi wants to express two things: how Izuku never loses hope (to be a hero, to have a quirk, to be a friend to Katsuki who bullied him for years or Shouto who straight up challenged him even before getting to know him, to reach and to save everyone) and how he represents and spreads hope for others (Eri, Kouta, the same Todoroki and Katsuki).

Green indicates life, renewal, harmony and safety. Which, in this sense, points out Izuku's nature as a person and how he is bound to feel restless unless he provides comfort to everyone, and that desire to save desperately anyone who he can reach. Green is a calming and soothing colour. It also stands for prosperity, freshness and progress - which point out not only the conclusion of Deku being N1 Hero, but as well at him 'changing up' the society and becoming the Symbol of Hope and Change (on which I briefly touched upon here).

However, on a negative side it also stands for Greed (wanting to be a hero and follow AM steps even when he had a hard time adapting his body to his new quirk) and Envy (Bakugō first and foremost and the generally heroes and those who has time to wield their power properly). In this negative meaning of the colour, I think Izuku’s selfless nature comes to the surface even more: how he feels bound to feel negative emotions which spur his renewal and development (after all, he did unlock Black Whip after Monoma had insulted Bakugou), but at the same time use this emotion toward a bigger goal (him being mad at Shigaraki, but at the same time wanting to save him - I wrote about this too here).

Green, is, finally, the colour of the Heart chakra: an expression of how Midoriya puts everything before him, because his heart cannot take the selfishness of thinking of himself first, which also come hand in hand with his sacrificing nature and reminds of his name meaning and the association made with the number 9. Indeed, “Opening the Heart chakra allows a person to love more, empathise, and feel compassion” - which in short, stands for an externalisation of Mido’s personality.

On a shorter note, in Japan, the colour green represents youth, eternity, vitality and energy - which, in its own way is both a confirmation and a denial to other references made in Izuku’s character, such as his dangerous nature, him not being concentrated to live on for more than he is allowed to fulfil his duty (him being tied to number 9 and so on), and at the same time it reminds us of OfA, as it gains more power and energy and at his cheery, youthful persona.

As for Red, as the colour of Blood, it also stands to indicate '' Danger, Sacrifice, Courage" (which reconnects to his name's theory and numerology, of which I talked about here, in short).

In addition, red is usually used to professionally gain attention (it's hard to miss something so bright) and convey confidence. We know for a fact that Deku has been wearing red shoes since he was a kid (or at least, since he met Bakugō, which coincides with Izuku being four) and that despite being Quirkless, he always showed courage in standing out to people even when they thought of him as 'inferior' because on his unusual condition.

Among other negative meaning, there is an overflow of temper, anger, agitation, and overbearing, demanding and oppressive behaviours. As clear as day, these characteristics relate more to fiery Katsuki than Deku, but as stated before, Deku puts Katsuki as model and adapts his combat style to resemble Katsuki’s. So, this overflow of energy and action is a double-edged sword which affects both Katsuki and Izuku in different ways (and is mellowed out in Izuku’s character by his other soothing characteristics , but more on that later).

Also, Red, in Asia is a lucky colour which might (or not) hint at how, despite everything Izuku got his 'lucky' chance to inherit AM's power and follow his dream of becoming a hero. Particularly, in Japan this colour is associated and denotes strength, passion, self-sacrifice. A transmission of feeling as complex and empowering as the ones Deku fills while he is living his everyday life as a future hero, summed to his nature and inherited quirk.

Red is also a magical and religious color. It symbolized super-human heroism to the Greeks and is the color of the Christian crucifixion, which might be as meaningless as other things, but in this case it might greatly relate to the type of enormous power Izuku tries to reign in, and to the self sacrificing spirit which he proves again and again.

So far, the meanings of the colours which have been associated with Deku are in line with his name, his personality and even the storyline which has been drawed out.

Among other meanings red represents power, courage, energy, passion, and creates physical effects such as enhanced metabolism, enthusiasm, higher level of energy (which comes back to the initial reasons on why Deku chooses Red as a distinct colour for himself and his shoes).

The color red is linked to the most primitive physical, emotional, and financial needs of survival and self-preservation.

Finally is also the colour of leadership, determination and courage. So in short, the colours red, where it indicates energy, action and strong emotion-filled desires and aspirations, is also weak to overbearing aspects which transform empowerment into negative traits (which is what, in the end, is represented by Bakugou). It is also strong-willed and can give confidence to those who are shy or lacking in will power (the shoes in Deku’s case).

Red is the colour of the First (or Spine) Chakra and usually allows a person to be grounded and connect to universal energies, while Green is the link between spiritual and material.

What do these two colours mean in association with each other?

Onto how these two colours are related to each other, especially considering the premises made, we see that Red (life-giving properties, trust, belonging and violence) and Green (health, eternity, youth and greed) are not only opposites, but they complete and balance each other out. Indeed, to reign over emotions and actions, to red is usually added green which indeed is a pain-relieving patch for red’s intensity (the theory of Bakugou and Deku being two sides of the same coin are thriving).

Midoriya Izuku is an intense person. His personality allows him to balance out his power with a selfless nature, and while he himself is sweet and caring, his fiery eyes (and shoes) express for him his utmost sincere feelings, which deep down are very telling. As mentioned before, Izuku responds to Monoma when he insults Bakugou and makes a jab at how actually Bakugou is the one who ultimately terminated AM, by unlocking a new dangerous and powerful quirk, which is so powerful and fiery, and red in his intensity, that they need Shinsou’s intervention to actually calm him down.

Izuku is a overly protective person: he has forgiveness as a foremost characteristic and even if he does mention how he will not forgive Shigaraki for what he has done, on second though he realises that even a ‘monster’ like Shigaraki deserves to be saved, and therefore his other nature takes over.

Therefore, the coexistence of these factors, and his personality are probably at the origin of why Midoriya has had such a drastic make-over before becoming Midoriya Izuku, and why the colours of Red and Green are fundamental in the description which lets us have a full picture of Midoriya as an individual: something who is full of hope and energy, striving to express whisk power and passion while trying to concern only himself with the danger that comes with his mission to save everyone.

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the-bat-collector · 3 years

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SUPERBAT Rec List!! AU NO POWERS ish PART 1

I love NO POWERS NO CAPES AUs but its been so hard to find them!! so decided to make this list to help y’all in your search :D

The length varies, but I prefer long fics so most of these are 10-20k up to 200k

Heart and Soul by Pandamomochan

E - 150,044

Clark Kent used to be a renowned composer who was said to be able to write masterpieces that were designed uniquely for each individual player. Famous musicians around the world would flock to him in hopes that he would write for them because his pieces were always said to bring out any player's crowning performance. That is, until one day Clark loses his wife in a tragic accident and decides never to write again.

Years later, Clark's son, Jon, gets admitted to the famous "Gotham School of Performing Arts". It is there that Clark meets Bruce Wayne, a strict, uptight, by the book piano instructor who is said to be able to craft the best musicians around the world.

this is one of my favorites. I'm not really into Hurt/Comfort but this is so beautiful!! highly recommended I'm biased cause I play the piano

Seeing Bruce Wayne by Evilpixie

E - 15,089

Clark Kent is the only male midwife working in Metropolis General. Bruce Wayne the residential pediatric surgeon.

I'm so into medicine/doctor AUs this is also one of my favorite fics!if you have to pick one from this list, pick this one!!!

On The Cusp by vesper_house

E - 47,378

Clark's life isn't going so well. He's in his thirties, he works at a coffee shop run by his old crush, his journalism career is going nowhere, and he's broke. It takes only one tall, dark and handsome stranger to change everything.

COFFE SHOP AU COFFESHOP AU!! We need more of these, the dynamic between Bruce and Clark is Great!!!!

A Game You Can't Win by NightFoliage

T - 78,328

Injustice is the hottest MMORPGs available to play! Set in a world where superpowers exist, players can become civilians, heroes, villains, and anybody in-between. Designed by Hiro “Toyman” Okamura, and Timothy Drake-Wayne, Injustice was created with the best Wayne Industries technology available and has the most human NPCs. The game is beyond it's time and is planned to be at the top of the charts for a while.

By accident, Clark finds himself pushed into the spotlight and new found fame. To him, Let’s Plays are a means to stay in touch with friends and to make money. He never got into LPing to become famous.

Bruce, who funded the game after Jason’s accident, is irritated (not jealous) that a video game player is such a big topic among the kids. After the nth time they mention him, Bruce decides to take matters into his own hands and see what all the fuss is about.

link to art

ONE OF MY FAVORITE SUPERBAT FICS OUT THERE!!!!!! this is great and fun and Clark is the best!

As We Grow by butterflyslinky

E - 23,451

Clark Kent is a farmer deep in debt to Lex Luthor.

Bruce Wayne is a billionaire with seven children and no luck in love.

But their families have a scheme to get them together and hopefully make life a little bit better.

Modern Medicine by BuckinghamAlice

G - 5,208

Pediatrician Dr. Clark Kent becomes beloved to his patients, the Wayne boys... as well as to their doting father Bruce.

ABSOLUTELY lovely and adorable, you get the feels!

Hellooooo, nurse! by weirdraccoon INCOMPLETE WIP

T - ?????

Clark enjoys his job at the Free Clinic. He loves helping people and tending injuries. Saving lives. But this man... Bruce Wayne is going to kill him if he doesn't get killed first.

Bruce is still Batman on this one but HERE ME OUT, Clark is a nurse! is incomplete but looking forward to the following chapters!!

Two Cities by EllenD

E - 96,152

Clark Kent, is simply Clark Kent, junior reporter for the Daily Planet who moved to Metropolis from Smallville with big dreams. Bruce Wayne is a billionaire playboy from Gotham, who also happens to be Batman. They meet, date, and fall in love, though not without hurdles because mild-mannered Clark is also socially awkward as heck. But when the most dangerous criminals in Gotham are gunning for Batman, Clark gets caught in the middle of it all. (He's basically Batman's Lois Lane) Meant to be set in the Dawn of Justice movie universe, but also draws inspiration from video games, comics, and those awesome Batman cartoons.

This is part of a series, but this is the main fic of it. Love this trope of Clark is just a civilian and Bruce is Batman. Warning this fic does contain disturbing topics so read the tags.

Here Comes the Sun by batsy_rocks

T - 18,815

Clark Kent is a kind-hearted reporter working in the big city. Bruce Wayne is a stressed dad of four with no idea of what he's doing.

Then they meet.

Seasons of Love by littlechinesedoll

G - 4,603

Clark Kent took over that farm at the edge of the Town of Smallville. He likes Smallville's resident doctor, Bruce Wayne.

The best gifts for Bruce are ginger ale, salad, coffee, and any kind of flowers. He hates gems, and bars of copper, silver, and gold.

Petals and Ink by drunkraiinbow

T - 12,976

With a new kid joining the family, Bruce tries a new tattoo artist to continue the tradition of adding them to his sleeve, but he won't trust just any artist. Clark manages to win him over with his incredible talent and his farm-boy friendly demeanor, and he may even have begun to win Bruce's heart. However, Clark might have a few things to learn first.

FLOWER SHOP TATTOO PARLOUR AU! what else is there to say, this is extremely cute and a fast read! :D

Faceless Killer by Batsymomma11

E - 51,519

Detective Bruce Wayne from the GCPD and detective Clark Kent from the MPD have been asked to create a joint task force in an effort to catch the John Doe Killer that has been ravaging their sister-cities. Aside from their long-standing animosity towards one another, it should be a breeze to work together. Besides, lives depend on them getting along.

They never expected they'd trip headlong into a romantic entanglement that feels a lot more serious than even the killer they're chasing.

The Tailor by maderi

E - 16,026

When Clark is assigned to cover the Wayne gala, he finds himself in need of a professionally tailored suit. His tailor though is drop dead gorgeous, which brings up a lot of awkward situations during their appointments.

Heroes of the Squared Circle by Mithen

M - 226,687

They've gone by many names: Billionaire Brucie, Country Clark, the Kryptonian, the Dark Knight. But no matter what their stage names are, one thing has always been true: Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne are the world's finest wrestlers.

Six's a crowd by Untoward INCOMPLETE/ABANDONED

G - 10,133

When Alfred has to make an emergency trip back to England, Bruce soon finds out he can't manage running a business and taking care of six kids all alone.

He turns to a nanny agency for help, and is astonished when he finds Clark Kent, who seems like he can handle anything.

Clark not only can take care of the kids incredibly well but seems to be breaking Bruce's walls down rather well too.

After Hours by ????

E - 3,175

At the end of a long semester Clark can't hide his attraction to Professor Wayne any longer. Grad School AU.

This is practically a one-shot, not really my type of fic but worth adding!! Haven't come across this professor trope in Superbat so if you got any recs, send them my way!

Wings and Fangs by DanielleN3

E - 17,224

Clark thought he could never fall in love with anyone, especially not after being alone for such a long time… but all of that changes when he encounters a sexy vampire in Gotham.

TECHNICALLY they both have powers in this one but there are soooo different from cannon that I think this fic still qualifies for this list

thirteen by CapnWinghead

T - 22,890

Drowning in student loans, Clark Kent takes a summer job as the Wayne family nanny.

OKAY. so this is not entirely NO POWERS, but I mean Clark is a NANNY so this is great! TRUST ME

Kiss me, take my breath away by J_Jubilee

E - 37,934

There were legends about Gotham Reef. Legends that said it was haunted by a beast of foul temper. Stories told of a ravenous sea beast that feasted on the flesh of men, and was said to be more hideous than Satan himself. Others told of a woman with eyes that glowed like gold to lead sailors to their death. Some even spoke of a witch that cursed men and wreck their ships, taking all their treasures with it. When Clark’s catamaran is wrecked by a terrible storm, he learns that the stories were oh so far from true.

Baby Bats by AlmondRose

G - 4,003

this is a short series of adorable and simple domestic fluff

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Haven't read this one but heeey the art is sooo pretty soo decided to add it anyways

Dragon Heart by Hells Angel 921

T - 27,660

Kal wants to make up for his past.

Bruce tries to move on with his future.

They eventually meet in the middle.

link to art

I didn't know that Dragon/DragonSlayer was a thing but hey... apparently it is, so here it is.

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hehe and so my rant ends here! let me know if you know fics that fit any of these tropes! I’m all ears

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endeaavorr · 3 years

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PAPA!ENJI AU CHARACTER BREAKDOWN

hello ! this is some new content idea that i thought would help everyone understand their dynamic better, and if this turns out well i’d turn this into an event too, i hope you enjoy. with love, moon. cw : mentions of death, violence, suicide, slight yandere tendencies.

“if you (have to) choose between the fate of your partner or the fate of the world, what will you choose ?”

y/n’s answer : them

y/n is very selfish when it comes to her relationship with enji. there’s something with the way she thinks, that’s just different and not even i, her creator can fathom or tell if it’s good or not. she’s so emotionally intelligent it boosts her and even enji’s publicity. but at the same time, to her nothing matters other than enji and her brothers. she would gladly knock on devil’s door and put a bargain on things no one wants to know what is just to get her way.

enji’s answer : the world

this is pretty obvious. enji is officially japan’s number one hero, with a successful agency to lead aside from it. it naturally makes him a leader that will have no choice but to put others first, it’s his responsibility, it’s his fate.

“will you sacrifice yourself for the other person ?”

y/n’s answer : will

after all the todoroki discourse, y/n considers enji her life and death. she vowed to herself to do everything in her power and beyond to make sure enji can be happy with her. to her, death is painless. it is life that brings misery.

enji’s answer : will

this is self explanatory. even if their relationship remained platonic, enji’s parental love would still let him give up his life for her.

“can you kill your partner if they become a monster ?”

y/n’s answer : can not

as i stated previously, y/n is selfish when it comes to enji. she would rather sit back and watch the world gets consumed by hellfire if it means she can be with enji.

enji’s answer : can

he has his responsibilities as a hero, and sacrificing personal matters is at the top of the list. he knew what it’s like to lose a child, so he can have a better judgement of what he would do. it’d crush him though. he’d be on distraught for a long time.

“will you take revenge if your partner is killed ?”

y/n’s answer : will

enji is a hard man to kill, if he somehow got killed it would be because he was distracted like when dabi revealed himself as touya, or it would be because reinforcement came late. the latter would be worse though, there’s no limit to how far she would go.

enji’s answer : will

unlike y/n’s egocentric temper, enji wouldn’t blame it on reinforcement or other survivors. he’d use all his connections and power as the number one to find whoever’s responsible. i haven’t thought this enough but it’s possible that the grief gets too much for enji to handle, it completely dulls his hero tendencies. he not only will let your killer die a slow and painful death, but also their kid too. an eye for an eye.

“will you follow your partner to death ?”

y/n’s answer : will

there are two scenarios where i thought about this possibility may occur. scenario one would be if enji’s sacrificing himself to save everyone like fighting a villain or gets trapped etc, if that’s the case she’ll stay and let life play whatever joke it has on them, as long as she has him, it doesn’t matter. scenario two would be if enji died without her like for example in a hospital or a battleground where she’s not present, if that’s the case she wouldn’t straight up kill herself, she’ll see what happens after like if it was accidental or planned or anything, but im not disclosing anything though, she can be unpredictable when it comes to enji.

enji’s answer : will not

if the conditions are like as i stated with y/n, on scenario one enji would sacrifice himself with y/n so ‘she at least won’t be alone in her last moments’. meanwhile on scenario two, he’s gonna prompt for revenge, and maybe find a way to bring her back.

“possibility of marriage ?”

y/n’s answer : there is not

enji’s answer : there is not

enji is legally still married to rei in this au. even if their marriage wasn’t built on love and it’s practically ended, a divorce will stain his and his family’s name. they had a talk about this about two years after both of them became a thing, and there’s a mutual agreement on this matter. the todoroki legacy that has been built is way too valuable to taint. enji feels bad though, y/n has sacrificed way too much, even more than rei did. so enji did give her a promise ring, making it clear that he’s not messing with her feelings or taking her for granted. he wears that ring in place of his first one that he got with rei. on a more simple answer, i’m sure incest marriage is illegal. (too bad)

“at the end of the world will you be with your partner ?”

y/n’s answer : will

enji’s answer : will

there’s no need to elaborate further on y/n’s answer. however enji’s a bit tricky since he should be trying to save people, right ? but no. he’s still a person with his own desires before he is a hero. it’s not like the world ever sacrificed its life for him anyways. enji would stop by rei’s place where natsuo and shoto lives to give a last apology, then go somewhere nice with y/n to watch the skies darken for the last time.

“will you tell lies to your partner ?”

y/n’s answer : will

enji’s answer : will

both of them are similar in this. i guess this is where the todoroki genes take place. she would only do harmless lies like birthday surprises and when she’s hiding her struggles or something because really there’s nothing for her to lie about, while enji would lie to protect her from the harsh knowledge of the grown up’s world. he thinks you’re still too innocent for the world, and he’d like to keep it that way.

“your partner has been killed to end their hellish suffering, will you revive them ?”

y/n’s answer : will

by now, it’s clearing up that she has some yandere tendencies. it’s not to the extent that she beheads any woman breathing the same air as enji, but it’s enough to be delusional at times. in this case, if enji was killed then she’d go into a craze frenzy. it’s even worse because people will come up to her and say shit like “he’s happy now.” she’d think “he was happy with me too” and mutter it lots of times. kinda scary to the people around her, and if given the chance to revive him, she’d take it in a heartbeat. she’s sure she can make him happy.

enji’s answer : will not

well, how do i say it. enji do loves her, but the years difference in life experience between him and y/n makes all the difference. he thinks rationally, like a normal person do. he’s not that confident in making y/n happy in the first place either, it’s not like she was free from his shitty jerk behaviour back then, if not she even sometimes took the hit for his brothers too. he’s not sure if he ever really made you happy despite trying his best. thus if given such situation, his insecure ass would consider it best if he lets what has happened, happened.

“can you live your position and responsibility for your partner ?”

y/n’s answer : can

y/n’s still quite young, only a few years in her hero career. she doesn’t really have a lot to stake on to be frank. especially with her pesonality, it won’t be a hard choice. hell if enji asks her to be a homemaker she’d be delighted to resign.

enji’s answer : can not

he has too much responsibility, having achieved that much in such a young age means he has a lot in stake. it’s unprofessional too, it irks him to be anything other than that.

“what are the last words you will say to your partner before you part ways forever ?”

y/n’s answer : i will care for you always, that was my part of the deal.

enji’s answer : i’m sorry.

in my au, i only consider this possible to happen if rei wanted to get back together and enji had no choice but to agree. it would be a long shot though, it’s canon in my au that y/n despises her mother, she’d be on her neck the moment she got off the hospital, keeping her away from enji as much as possible. but if this scenario did somehow happen, i think y/n would give in. he’d do anything for enji at the end of the day. (as long as they still fuck regularly tho)

“would they want to meet each other again if they were reborn ?”

y/n’s answer : i want to

enji’s answer : i want to

maybe this time, he won’t be so insecure and flawed. maybe this time, she would fight harder for him.

“finally, one word to describe their relationship ?”

moon’s answer : romantic.

maybe they were doomed from the very start, but they loved each other with all they had. maybe it was wrong, and ugly at times, but still they were two romantics yearning for each other.

this is the end of the character breakdown, thank you so much for making it this far and enjoying my papa!enji au. i appreciate all of you so much.

#papa!enji #endeavor x reader smut #endeavor x reader fluff #enji todoroki #enji todoroki x reader #enji todoroki x reader fluff #endeavor headcanons #enji todoroki headcanons #mha headcanons #bnha headcanons

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bokettochild · 3 years

Note

Hey Ketto, I'm not sure if you are taking any requests rn, but I've had a rough time of it recently and if it's no bother or hassle, could I request a fic where Time gets comforted by Warriors? Something with cuddles and hair petting, and Time getting to be held. Only if it's no bother. - Nick @thesacredtwink

Of course, Nick!

Sorry I didn't see this until just recently, but I whipped up something for you as soon as I could. I hope it helps, luv, and if you want more please do not hesitate to ask!

Time has been acting strange since the last switch.

At first, none of them questioned it, after all, leaving the ranch made them all a bit down, Time especially however, their leader usually sprung back to himself within a few days of travel time, going back to making jokes that made the others groan and offering advice and aid to their younger heroes. This time however, Time had only gotten worse, the shadows under his eyes growing nightly, the older hero falling silent and stern and very nearly snappish with the others. Only this evening, Warriors had seen Time lose his temper with Wind when the kid had been bubbling around him all day, and while the sailor took the scolding and tired ‘you’re just too much, Wind’ like a soldier, Wars had seen how the kid had retreated to Twilight and Legend during dinner, clinging to the both of them with misty eyes and keeping himself strangely silent while Time brooded on the other side of the fire.

The captain sighed to himself. If his boys were having trouble getting along, not just adjusting to being on the road again, then it was his place as a father (brother?) to step up and see what the problem was. After all, Time would tear himself up about this later, so he needed to nip it in the bud now before the man did something that would make the following guilt later even worse.

Time was seated on the far edge of camp that evening, and unlike most nights on the road, the man had left his sword in its sheath, himself still clad in his armor as the others shed their excess layers, and a blue ocarina was cradled in his hands, eyes distant and brows pulled low as he stared off into the forest. Not brooding then, sulking, and he wasn’t quite sure if that was better or worse in the moment.

“Room for one more?”

Time’s blue eye flickered to him for a moment with a dark scowl, the man shaking his head tiredly and pulling himself up.

Oh shoot, a royal sulk! Time was usually fine to let someone sit next to him, even when he was brooding, but if it was so bad that he didn’t even want anyone nearby? Oh goddesses, Warriors had his work cut out for him.

Dinner that night was a cold affair, the younger ones trying to prompt Wind into anything resembling conversation as Legend poked the sailor’s side, and the older ones exchanging worried glances as they looked from their sulking leader to each other. Usually, someone would break the stillness with a joke or a tease, but Legend’s snark only made things worse when Time shot the vet a look after he had made a jab at Warriors, and while the captain appreciated the defense of his honor, it was reminding him much too much of the war when Time had been a gremlin ready to wreak havoc on anyone at the nearest hint of insult to his father-figure. And while he rather doubted that Time could pants Legend (no pants, and their leader hopefully knew better now that he was older) it was an uncomfortable reminder of the kid’s worse days when nothing could get through to him and Warriors had to be very careful to hide his flask where the kid wouldn’t find it.

When arranging watches, Time had just grunted and moved to the edges of camp and Warriors found himself wincing.

“I’ll take second watch.” He told the others. “Time’s claimed first- don't ask, that’s what that huff usually means. Wind, you’re on Twilight duty, make sure the rancher doesn’t wander off again this evening, alright?” That earned a smile from the kid however hesitant, and while Twilight looked mildly offended, Warriors mentally blessed the rancher for not protesting the comment.

“Yessir, Cap’n.” Wind offered a sharp little salute, and he couldn’t help but reach over and ruffle the kid’s hair as his chest had swelled with pride. They’d worked on that salute a thousand times and now it was as clipped and smooth as any officer’s, even better than many of his men. Maybe he should have the sailor give his soldiers a few tips he chuckled to himself as the others sorted out watches; Legend taking the one directly after his and Hyrule the one after. Wild was on morning cooking duty, so the kid was ordered to rest for the night to avoid any sort of unfortunate mishaps. Usually, it wasn’t a problem to let the wild Champion take final watch, but if his plans (of course he had plans, did you doubt him?) were going to work out, the kid would need to be well rested to prepare the breakfast he’d asked for in the morning.

Knowing glances were shot his way by the others, Sky and Twilight both clapping his back and Legend tugging his scarf with an impish smirk as the others headed to bed, silent wishes of good luck ringing clear across the camp as he was left alone with their leader while the others settled in for bed.

He waited until the sun had set properly and the snoring of the others had begun rumbling around the camp, Twilight’s throaty snorts and Wind’s rumbling ones mixing with Four and Legend’s more soft snuffling ones. Hyrule and Wild lay silent and curled up, each snuggled into one side of the cuddle pile that had formed with Wind in the center, the sailor clinging to Twilight and Legend both in his sleep and dooming them to be smushed in by the other heroes. Sky, at the head of the pile, drooled slightly in his sleep, apparently uncaring that the others were using him as a pillow, and with one hand lost in Twilight’s dark hair. It made him smile as he took them in, pulling himself up to go and ensure they were all tucked in warmly before he turned his attention to the brooding warrior on the edge of their camp.

Time was still fiddling with his ocarina, eyes downcast and almost misty as the older man sat on the edge of camp, and he had to stop for a moment to collect himself before confronting him; Time looked miserable.

“Guilt hitting you yet for yelling at Wind?” He drawled, coming to sit next to the other and carefully arranging his scarf where time could grab it if needed. The man was no longer a child, but even so the blue fabric was a comfort to most of their odd little family, and scoldings or long talks were always made easier when it was available to hide under.

“A bit.”

“If it helps, he knows you didn’t mean it.”

Time slumped in place. “I still said it. Wind looks up to me now, I-” The other cut off with a sigh, tired eyes and weary heart both dimming as he watched.

“Right then, what’s eating you?” At Time’s startled expression he offered a knowing frown. “I helped raise you, Sap, I know when you’re taring yourself up over something and I’d half to be as blind as you to not tell when somethings hurting you. So, what is it?”

Royal blue blinked slowly, a match for his own and so terribly distant as Time turned back to the forest, thumbs trailing over the smooth porcelain of the ocarina. “I’m worried.”

“For?”

“For Malon.” Oh shit. “She wasn’t feeling too good when we left and-” Time’s face twisted up, eye glimmering as the man stared up at the stars, pain twisting his expression and straining his voice as one hand had wound into the prepared scarf. “I’m not there. Talon’s getting on in years and if something happens when we’re gone-” Time’s voice hitched, not quite a sob but broken all the same, and like a trigger was hit Warriors was already pulling the other man into his arms, holding tight as Time’s shoulders shuddered under his grasp. “I’m worried, Pops.” Came the broken whisper. “What if-”

“Shhhh.” Like a million times before his hands were running through short blonde hair. It had been ages since he’d trimmed either of his boys and Time was getting shaggy again, something he was grateful for. Running his hands through the kid’s hair had always helped him calm, and it seemed to still be effective even ow, Time melting further into his embrace as he hummed softly, rocking ever so slightly in place. “Malon’s a strong woman, she’ll be fine. People get sick all the time, Sapling, this isn’t anything to fuss over.”

“She couldn’t get out of bed the other morning.” Time breathed against his chest, the ocarina falling to the ground as both of the man’s hands had wound into the blue scarf instead.

Warriors tried to steady the stutter of his heart as he clutched the other a but tighter. “Is that so?”

“She’s been awful nauseas too.” Time choked out. “Wars, I-”

“Has she had random dizzy spells and weird cravings? Maybe gets sickened at the mere idea of certain foods but also likes eating things that even a pig would turn away from?” Oh, goddesses let this be right.

Time’s blue eye stared up at him curiously. “Y-yeah, how’d-”

The captain choked back a snort. “She’ll be fine, Time. Ladies get that way sometimes. My own beloved was that way for a while too, it passes in time, and there's few ill effects.”

“What ill effects?” Time shifted uneasily, pulling away to stare at him better.

“Exhaustion mostly, some pain, and loss of sleep, but,” He tilted his head with a knowing grin. “It’s well worth it in the end when she’s okay again. You’ll want to talk to her about it next time we get there,” if the bulge of Malon’s stomach didn’t give her away first. “But she’ll be alright.” Time stared at him in disbelief, brows pulling together in a doubtful frown that had him huffing in mock offence. “Wat, you don’t believe me?”

“Battlefield experience as a medic-”

Wars cut Time off with a snort. “Battlefield nothing! I was fighting my loves illness before the war even started. It’s not something that catches, I’ll have you know, and as long as she takes it easy, something I trust Malon knows as well as the next woman, she’ll be fine.” He reached over to tig Time’s ears making the other shy away with a strained laugh, only earning a hair ruffle “Stop fussing, Sapling, your lady love will live just fine.”

Time actually outed at him for a moment, something which quite frankly looked ridiculous on the man’s face and made him bust up laughing as the other flopped against him. Absently, his hands drifted back into Time’s shaggy hair, humming softly as Time continued to lay in silence, eyes staring up at the stars and ears twitching slowly.

“Tomorrow,” He tugged one flickering ear pointedly. “You need to apologize to Wind.”

“Trust me, I intend to.”

“Good.” He grinned, flopping his scarf across the other’s face. “But for now, rest, kiddo, you’re a right grouch when you're tired and I don’t mind pulling double shift for a night.”

“I’m-”

“Not fine, and not staying up. Past your bed-time squirt.” He tugged the ear again, earning a soft growl from his adult kid as Time shifted.

“I’m still in my armor.”

“Then change.”

Time pulled himself up with a huff, shucking his armor and letting Wars help him with the buckles and belts before the both of them settled down again. Tomorrow night, the leader’s metal shell would need cleaning, but for now, he’d let himself out to be seen and held, head nestled in Warriors’ lap as the captain played with his hair.

Time’s breathes evened out to join the cacophony of rumbling snores of the others. Warriors smiled, ruffling his son’s hair fondly and turning his eyes towards the moon.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #dad warriors #lu warriors #lu time #lu malon #mentioned #mamalon #more so than usual #time gets grouchy when he worries #hints at #pregnant malon #time is a good husband #warriors is married #feel free to insert your own ship there if you like #for #thesacredtwink my beloved #fluffics

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kozutenshi · 3 years

Text

INK—KATSUKI BAKUGO

prompt: every lie you tell appears on your soulmate’s skin.

what: 1.6k of soulmate fluff in an established relationship.

warnings: none!

He didn't want to meet you.

He didn't want to see the other end of his ink, where the dark lines and curves of his lies find itself before it fades. He didn't want to meet someone who will actually accept him: his "greatness", temper, doubts, and all his flaws.

He didn't want to touch you, so he settled on doubting the concept of soulmates, ignoring the facts that surround him every single day. After all, contradicting what he was scared of is one of the things he had learned to do to cope with the sudden changes in his life.

Yet, he often found himself staring on his skin, waiting for your next lie. He found himself having the urge to know your voice even though he doubts he'll find it unattractive.

In short, he was hooked as expected.

So here he was, by the beach. The evening is near as the air further ruffled his hair, his outfit proving to be useful. The red maroon long-sleeved turtleneck he wore helped in regulating his temperature, even if the winter had little to no effect on him as he stood nervously numb. His dark baggy pants that are hiding a knife somewhere in its pockets contrasted how body hugging his top was. Sighing, his fingers reached for the silver chain necklace around his neck.

He wondered if he overdressed for the occasion.

The sunset was calming to see, the total opposite of his jumble of nerves, his red eyes glowing even if they were cast downwards. He could feel the exhaustion in his bones after going through back to back missions to free up his schedule. The mask and the glasses had tried to hide his identity but failed as people still swarmed around him when they saw his red eyes through the lightly tinted lens.

Not like he was complaining.

Free from the disguise, he stood in front of the bay his old friend had cleaned up for his training, waiting for your arrival.

"Katsuki!" The few people around close enough to hear you looked at him as you waved towards his direction. His hand found its way on his forehead, a tired look on his face as people started to swarm around him again. You acted quickly and grabbed his hand that had started sweating and bolted away, to the street where the two of you were supposed to go eat. Your hand felt warm in his as you dragged him away, laughing at the commotion.

With Bakugo, the press tracking his every move was not new, especially with him being an influencer, a hero at such a young age. You've come to terms with it after loving him for years, recalling the photos they had taken of the two of you on a date or a simple walk. Annoying, but, unexpectedly, tolerable.

"Sorry to keep you waiting. Were you alone for a long time?" He was glad you didn't address the public's attention to him and settled on focusing your eyes on him. He didn't want to upset you but he knew you'd still see through it: first because the blank ink will always find its way on your skin every time he tells a lie, and second, because you know him that well after years of putting up with his nature.

"Yeah, but I didn't mind." The two of you had slowed down, your hand now out of his grasp as you tried to catch your breath. "The sunset was nice anyway."

In the span of five years since he met you, the two of you found yourselves in your own careers, often assigned to separate missions, far even, pursuing your own dreams. The two of you rarely met up now, and the only way to communicate was through calls and texts every night or at every free time you two share. And every time he sees you, the feeling always felt like the first time he sees you in the same high school you attended as him, watching his lies line up in your skin just to check if his eyes were betraying him or not.

"That's great. I was getting worried you'll leave me since you didn't even want to know me at first." He grumbled as you chuckled, lightly tapping his arm as a sign that you were just kidding.

"Well, you couldn't blame me. Soulmates sounded really dumb." The red of the lanterns blended with the hues of his eyes as he looked at your figure, excitedly pointing at every food stall. The month of February was coming to an end so the cold didn't affect him much anymore, but he found himself craving your warmth in many ways than one.

"Everything was dumb for you if it wasn't part of your goal," you jokingly retorted which he snorted at. He couldn't exactly deny that. "What are you spacing out for anyway? You looked, and still do by the way, like a lost Pomeranian." His face scrunched and was about to start yelling at you which you were prepared to laugh at when loud cheerful yells can be heard from the distance. He was clearly unfocused, but is unwilling to tell you about it. A small subtle blush crept up his face with the thought of finally being alone with you after so many months, which he then quickly hid behind the crepes you handed him.

The food park started getting busier, and you thought back to how silent and peaceful the beach was. The bench the two of you sat on proved to be not as secluded as the two of you thought, people looking sideways with giddy smiles and recognition.

"Do you want to go back to the beach?" He looked around subtly, noticing the growing crowd and nodded.

Hand in hand, the two of you walked in comfortable silence sipping on your drinks, only because both of you didn't want people to overhear you. The walk was peaceful, his warm hand anchoring you to safety. That even with the danger of the night, or the two of you probably making the headlines if people recognized you by tomorrow, you felt safe and surrounded only by his familiar caramel scent mixed with the distant salt of the beach. The lanterns slowly disappeared from your peripheral visions, going back to a normally lit street.

Loving Bakugo wasn't a small feat. You remember when the two of you shared the same lies, repeating it as if the two of you wanted to love each other that every lie would turn to a truth.

Maybe that was why the two of you had avoided looking on each other's skin for months, getting to know and bonding over nothing without the influence of the dark ink.

Maybe that was why the two of you refused to exchange i love you's later, opting to show each other's affection in other ways then seeing the remnants of the three words like a faded tattoo with a dejected look on both your faces.

This time, the evening has fallen over the beach, the dark veil of stars reflected over the waves instead of the pink and orange hues when he was waiting. The stars shone brightly, the moon unseen, blended into the night. He gazed at your figure as he wordlessly stopped, letting you walk in front of him, and gave into his urge, wrapping his arms around you from behind and burying himself in your scent, in your familiar warmth.

"I missed you."

You stood there in petrified silence before melting in his arms, understanding, contentment, love and warmth flooding your senses.

"I missed you too."

His eyes willed you to drown in his scarlet petals as the two of you wordlessly swayed to his rough hums, his rough tune blending with your own notes. Strangely, it was a pleasant melody; not the best, yet, the softness behind them seemed fitting for the night's ambience.

The stars gazed at the two of you as if you were the only people in the world, but he could care less about the stars.

You were the only light in his eyes.

He didn't want to meet you, to damage such a dream for him, but right now, he knew he didn't want to lose you, spilling pure moonlight instead of the night dark ink of both your lies.

citizens(taglist): @celestialarchiveshq @rendezvoi

footer: reblogs are appreciated!

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ginanosakka · 3 years

Text

The War Has Begun

Masterlist

Mind of a Monster | Next

Katsuki had been quiet as a mouse since the meeting, and even as he handled the investigation and information he was being relayed by those part of the mission, he looked more in thought than exploding with anger at his current situation. Usually, he would be patrolling the streets, taking down any petty thug or idiotic villain that dared to cause a scene in his area, but he found himself patrolling for as long as many other heroes he knew that preferred to take this profession slow. It didn’t even matter to him that he was seeing icy-hot on the news more than him now when he sat in the living room with his son.

His son.

Those words felt so right now despite the fact that children were at the bottom of his list of things to deal with. Seeing that blonde boy with the same blown out ashy blonde hair as his, sharing the same eyes with that damn sparkle of the girl he was forever intertwined with, he felt nothing but pure satisfaction and peace. The same satisfaction and peace he believed he could only have by being the number one hero, which was the reason why he spent so much overtime as a hero to try and surpass Deku, and to never be lumped into the same category as Todoroki. When he thought of being number one now, he couldn’t find that same passion for it.

“You should feel honored that the future number one hero lets you talk to him.” Katsuki boasted, grinning like a maniac while you sat across from him at the mall food court.

“Being number one is a sham, you know. My dad said that all those heroes at the top do it for money and fame, with the only exception being All Might. I prefer heroes like Gang Orca, he’s super cool and he actually cares about the people he’s saving.” You mentioned casually, picking up another fry from your tray of food and chewing on it.

Katsuki simmered down enough to take in what you said, and felt the slight shade you threw at his goal. “What’s that supposed to mean?! You think I’m a bad hero or something?!” He shouted, and you shrugged while ignoring the stares that you two were getting.

“That isn’t my dream to pick at, but it’s not hard to see that Endeavor doesn’t save lives because he cares about people. . You said the reason you want to be a hero was to make a lot of money and show off that you were better than everyone else. Do you really think you’re an All Might and not an Endeavor?”

He stood up with his hair casting a shadow over his eyes, and before you could even say another word, he walked away from you. You stared after him in shock at such a negative reaction from the truth, but you knew that he wouldn’t take that well. It was the truth that he’d been facing since starting UA that he wasn’t like his classmates who all shared his goal, but you knew he didn’t understand what you truly meant. The heaviness of your words weighed Katsuki down as he walked away from, his insecurities that he’d hide from you shining through in that moment. You were right in that moment; Katsuki didn’t understand what you meant, but he can’t pretend like it didn’t hurt.

“Real heroes don’t care about being number one as long as they’re helping someone. . what a dumbass.” Katsuki mumbled the moral of your words as they hit him like a train wreck.

‘She’s always been that damn wise, huh?’ He thought as he turned away from watching the television with his son to you.

You sat not too far away from them on his recliner, your legs crossed and eyes intently focused on your phone as you typed away. All morning you had been like that when you weren’t talking or doing something with Ryu. The two of you had not moved forward since his apology, but there were no longer small acts of aggression towards him when you spoke, and in your constant teasing of his short temper, there was no longer any comments about the past riddled in your humor. Though that didn’t ease his mind about the unspoken rivalry that had sprung from your reappearance.

He refused to lose you again, and damn sure not to shitty hair.

Without warning, Katsuki stood up and stalked towards you. His sudden movements took your attention away from your emails with your assistant and you looked up at him as he towered over you, and you’d never admit that the butterflies in your stomach weren’t from fear. In a simple tank top and shorts standing above you was a man that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, but you’d much rather burn the image in the back of your mind and keep your hormones to yourself than embarrass yourself.

“We’re going out.” He said as if stating a fact, and in his mind, it very much was.

“. . . Who the fuck is we? Ryu, you didn’t hear me say that.” You blinked at Katsuki as if he had grown three heads, before looking to Ryu who’s attention had moved to the both of you when he heard the foul word fall from your mouth.

“When I burn stuff I’m bad, but you can say bad words,” you heard your five year old huff.

“I mean you and I,” Katsuki explained with slight irritation at you. “Pinky’s been bugging me anyway, so she can-“

You cut him off and turned your phone off, “there’s no need to call her. My assistant will watch him and I’ll babysit you.”

“Pain in my ass,” Katsuki mumbled just loud enough for you to hear as you stood up, and you smiled in return.

Being stuck in Katsuki’s house most of the time made you appreciate the outdoors more, and maybe a few weeks ago you’d complain about being in the park without Ryu, but it felt like a stilled moment in time now where you could pretend there was a sense of normalcy. You could pretend like you and Katsuki were just frenemies with complicated emotions, and he could take a breath from that world of constant ridicule and popularity contests. It was never spoken between you two, but it was clear that it wasn’t just you that was causing him to be stressed and consistently explosive; the hero community was wearing him down for a while now.

It only took finding out he had a child, rivaling the girl he lost, and having them both be targeted by her father, for him to realize being number one wasn’t that important.

“So, why did you want to take me to the park . without the child that loves the park?” You said with mild amusement, you two walking side by side in your hoodies and sweats to be at least slightly concealed in public.

Truthfully, in his moment of haste to get a leg up on his own friend, he hadn’t fully thought out an idea to get close to you. It wasn’t until he made it out of the apartment, after barely casting a glance at your assistant, Nanami, that you allowed into his home, that he realized this may not have been the smartest course of action. And he’d never admit that to you.

“You looked like you needed some time away, and I’m tired of looking at you working when you’re not even there.” He said gruffly, avoiding your face and doing his best to fight the small blush he could feel heat up his cheeks.

You chuckled lowly, “some things never change. . Speaking of that, how are things with Midoriya? I was surprised to hear that you didn’t full on murder him when he was announced the number one hero.” You said, giving him a sideways glance to gauge his reaction.

That was quite a blow to his ego. It took him a while to recover from losing to the boy he had looked down on his entire childhood, and then underestimated in his later years until he was forced to realize that Deku was his equal. What he lacked, Deku excelled, and there was nothing he could do about that other than to work harder. It took a long time for Katsuki to truly accept that there was something special about that nerd, and the world needed him.

“He’ll always be a loser to me. . but he’s a decent hero. I’d be a dumbass like the rest of you to kick his ass about it.” Katsuki said and looked you in the eyes, showing that he meant every word. “You know, I can’t tell if you hate me or care too damn much sometimes.”

You hummed with a smile creeping up on your face, “It’s a healthy balance of both. . I’m not ready

to overthink us right now when I can’t be completely open with you, or anyone else for that matter.” The smile that grew had withered near the end of your sentence, and you felt a flash of guilt in you for dragging him into a battle that had little to do with him. You dragged an entire army of heroes into this, and you couldn’t even guarantee they’d have their jobs. . without using them like pawns.

“I’m not letting you go through this alone. I don’t care how much you try to push me away, your shitty ass is stuck with me.” He said without missing a beat.

For a moment you smiled again, and Katsuki accepted the uncontrollable beating of his heart around you. Your bodies had inches closer during your walk, and though your hand never touched nor did your arms link, you felt close to another. It was possible that it was a toxic attachment neither of you should be so content within, neither of you wasted another breath to question it.

You both arrived back at the apartment a mere few hours later. Walking in public together in broad daylight wasn’t the safest idea at this time even in hoodies, so it wasn’t long before you both agreed to turn back. The sun was still shining outside when Katsuki opened the door, yet the eerie silence that welcomed him made a chill run down his spine and every alarm in his body went off at once.

His body reacted before his mind when he stalked towards the living room, then to the kitchen, and lastly to Ryu’s bedroom to find absolutely no one. There were things of Ryu’s missing — some clothes and toys that he took with him wherever he could. There were signs that a child had once been here still scattered around the house, but there wasn’t any sign that Nanami had ever been here.

Rage, fear, and sadness were running rampant in Bakugou’s mind as he frantically searched Ryu’s room for anything that would tell him where they went and that this was some misunderstanding. He was cursing himself for not taking a second look at that girl, and he cursed himself for leaving his only son with her when he knew nothing about her. Had he stopped and checked her out he might have been able to tell something was off — he might have been able to stop his son from going missing and be a good father like he should have.

His frantic thoughts stopped suddenly, along with his movements and time. He remembered who else was here and wasn’t making a sound while he tore the room apart. Who hadn’t made a single sound since leaving the park.

“Y/N.”

The way your name fell from his lips felt like venom being injected straight into your veins, but your face remained neural even as his manic eyes made contact with yours. You didn’t speak in fear that any response would cause him to spur completely out of control, and you knew that whatever response you gave him wouldn’t be good enough. This wasn’t a battle you’d win.

“Where. . Is he?” Katsuki asked slowly through gritted teeth.

“I think you need to-“ you attempted to reach out to him and de escalate this enough to explain, but he cut you off with more fury than a scorned man.

“Where is my son?!”

Before any answer could be given the front door was slammed opened with a deafening smack, sending you whirling around at the sudden action. Thundering footsteps came down the hall and before you could even let the anxiety consume you, men dressed in riot gear appeared in the doorway of the room with guns pointed in your direction. Your hands flew up automatically, and they wasted no time swarming you.

“Y/N L/N, you’re under arrest for conspiracy and premeditated murder.”

A/N: A missing mother, a missing son, and an arrest. What a wholesome story. Anyways, the angst never stops and the tables keep turning, LETS GET CRAZY!

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