#and he wants to fill the role of a hero even though he gets broken down for it over and over | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

an-architect-of-words · 10 months

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I'm intrigued by your comparison of tsh, the great gatsby, and heathers, would you care to share some points?

Golly gee! I’m glad you asked, Anon!

(Obvious major spoilers for the three of these things. Also, I’m using the 1988 film for Heathers. I like the musical, but I like the movie a bit more, and it better suits my points here. There are a few differences in tone between film and musical especially regarding J.D.)

(This talks about triggering topics seen in each of these stories.)

/Opening/

All three of these stories provide critical looks at certain communities, and all of them focus on at least one character whose goal is to reach a particular worldly ideal, to achieve a certain aesthetic lifestyle. Gatsby goes about this in a very reflective and melancholy way. Heathers uses humor and satire. The Secret History uses elements of both.

I really like Joseph Campbell and Thomas C. Foster who analyze character archetypes and tropes. Their points are not that this is necessarily copying or unoriginal but that human storytellers often get attracted to the same concerns, ideals, and concepts— we end up revisiting frameworks such as the hero’s journey or the “vampire” archetype for characters. But what is enriching is the author’s own way of commenting on these things. If we look at, say, Henry, Gatsby, and J.D, they are all wildly different people but the same character type. So let’s go though how the stories are all saying the same thing but exploring it differently.

/Great Gatsby vs Secret History/

Let’s start with TGG and TSH. Richard mentions early on that he identifies with Gatsby, and that this is his favorite novel. I’ve seen a few people question this because Richard is much closer to Nick Carraway. And, from a POV perspective, he is. They’re both outsiders attracted to the mystique of another character. And they’re just neutral enough that different characters can approach them about things. But Richard seeing himself as Jay Gatsby is also accurate, because Gatsby has a similar internal struggle to Richard himself. Richard’s flaws and goals are exactly Gatsby’s. Both men resent the lives they were born into, viewing them as dull and not a reflection of how they see their own identities. They take matters into their own hands to achieve their ideal regardless of the methods. Richard finds himself attracted to the Greek class, and particularly awestruck by Henry, because Henry is a Gatsby-type too. And it’s more Henry who functions as Gatsby in a POV way. Henry does what he must to achieve his desired Hellenistic lifestyle, just as Gatsby chases for the American dream.

The stories also make similar points about the effect of this behavior on other people, particularly women. A big topic of TGG is carelessness. It’s seen through the symbolism of cars. The characters are reckless with their vehicles. Cars are stylish and exciting, but also linked to violence. We see this general concept with Julian who is careless with his teaching methods. Him leaving at the end, dead and broken people in his dust, reminds me of Daisy and Tom at the end of Gatsby, and Nick saying: “They were careless people, Tom and Daisy— they smashed up people and things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness, or whatever it was that kept them together and let other people clean up the mess they had made…” Julian does something similar.

Obviously, Camilla and Daisy fill similar roles. They’re women who aesthetically fit into the lifestyle the male characters want. Daisy is a stunning American socialite. Camilla is a pretty classics student who plays the roles of big name Greek ladies (notably Clytemnestra) in the class’s readings. Gatsby, Henry, and Richard seem to have varying levels of actual love for these women. But the idea is the same: “In order to fully complete my own self-transformation, I need to have a woman emblematic of my ideals.” Even Charles fits into this because his views of Camilla get twisted by his toxic and Romanesque concept of what it means to be a male head of household. Both Camilla and Daisy are aware of their own lack of agency. Daisy’s famous line saying the best thing a girl can be is “a pretty little fool” isn’t meant to be taken as the author’s own opinion, it’s Daisy saying she wishes her daughter will be too stupid to realize what an awful situation she’s in. Camilla and Daisy know that they eventually just need make a plan and go with the man that will make their life easiest. For Daisy, that ends up being Tom. For Camilla, it’s Henry.

As a side note, I saw someone drawing Gatsby comparisons from TSH and mention that Charles is Tom. And I do understand the connection made here (Charles becomes an antagonistic figure for Henry, and they fight over a woman) but it seemed slightly off to me, and I realized it’s because I view Charles way more like George Wilson. Wilson is incredibly impacted by the immorality going on around him, and views the eyes of T.J. Eckleburg as a constant reminder that God is watching them all. In the end, he has a mental breakdown, victimizes his wife Myrtle then loses her. Wilson and Charles come to the same conclusion at the end: which is to attack and kill Gatsby/Henry with a gun. There are obvious differences. For example, Wilson is wrong that Gatbsy killed Myrtle (that was Daisy) and cheated with her (that was Tom). But the backbone is there: a man is haunted by the existence of objective morality. He then reaches a conclusion he must violently seize control and kill the one he sees as responsible.

/Heathers vs. Secret History/

While Gatsby focuses on a desire to be part of an American upper class and TSH focuses on a desire to be part of an erudite class, Heathers focuses on what I’m going to call teenage politics. Jocks, mean girls, bad boys, etc. The cliques of high school. Veronica is a member of the popular girl group at school and is mistreated by her clique. What she craves is to be part of what J.D. represents. He’s a mysterious outsider who is intimidating but also recites poetry and likes Bach. The way he’s introduced is very “Hey look at this guy. He’s not shallow like the Heathers, Kurt, and Ram. He’s layered.” Veronica very much falls into the trap of believing a damaged, edgy boy is somehow deeper than everyone else. She also wants to be dangerous and above the other high school cliques. Veronica is exactly like Richard because she knows J.D. is excessively violent the day she meets him when he threatens football players with a gun, but she believes there’s something cool and beautiful in that. She sees that his opinions are more cultured than her friends, but doesn’t stop to analyze what kind of person would fire blanks at people during school. Well, surprise surprise, it turns out the bad boy is… well literally just an awful person. There’s no hidden heart of gold like in the movies. Heather Chandler was terrible, but her death brings to light that people like J.D. are worse. And, to me, the situation with Bunny and Henry is similar. Both protagonists go along with the killing (I say this because Veronica was kind of sucked into it more than a premeditated accomplice), because they were abused by the victim and want to avoid jail time. But it’s also noteworthy that that victim represents a type of person who is opposite of the protagonist’s ideal. Bunny is an uncultured slob when Richard wants sleek intellectualism. Heather Chandler is a vapid mean girl when Veronica wants cool people of substance. Both protagonists eventually realize that the person they’ve partnered with is the bigger threat.

Heathers and TSH also unfold similarly. Both the Hampden and the Sherwood (Westerburg) communities react to the murder in a way that is so absurd and really off-the-mark. The Sherwood community mistakes Heather’s death as a suicide then proceeds to project deep feelings onto her and rationalize her rude behavior (sometimes in hysterical ways) because tortured souls are deep. They hold all these suicide prevention spectacles that the viewer can see are not really about preventing suicide at all. They’re about showing that people are feeling things and painting Westerburg High as a place full of psychologically complex people. Bunny’s death gets mistaken as drug usage and similar circuses ensue. There are people projecting onto Bunny because he died young. The whole section in TSH where they do the national drug trivia competition to raise awareness and Hampden College dominated was HILARIOUS in its irony, and I literally went, “This is so totally in the tone of Heathers” when I read it.

The way the stories handle the “idealism” character is similar too. Henry and J.D. come across as so wise and above nonsense at the start. You’re distracted by their language and finer tastes. Then, you see that they’re clever when they are able to get away with murder. But the story starts to show you that they’re actually super one-note in ways. Henry and J.D. both get almost embarrassing to watch because you start to see how horribly unaware they are. Henry is focused on what book to bring to his FBI meeting, as if that matters, and he seriously thinks the psychic lady might catch them. J.D. starts to come across as so silly because you see how often he speaks in trite little poetic statements that are stupid in context, but that he clearly thinks sound good (“People will look at Westerburg and say there’s a school that self destructed not because society didn’t care, but because that school WAS society. Pretty deep, huh?”). Both Henry and J.D. meet their downfalls because they’re after random, insubstantial “profound” things. Henry goes out with a suicide tied to a tender kiss with a woman, to prove that he could become the perfect Hellenistic figure Julian wasn’t. J.D.’s suicide was a similar thing: a message to Veronica about how complex and world-rejecting he is. (This is a part that differs in the musical. J.D. is actually self sacrificial there. I respect that the musical had to make J.D. softer to accommodate his songs, but the film character’s actions stick more firmly to the lesson of the story).

Heathers is more of a comedy than TSH is, but they both poke fun then take steps back. Bunny’s funeral is a complete clown show but there are moments of genuine sadness and Richard realizing how evil the thing they did was. There’s a funeral in Heathers where Veronica and J.D. are giggling because they know the things being said about their victim are stupid. Then Veronica catches sight of a crying little girl and stops, shocked by the sudden reality of what she did.

Both stories also comment on group mentality. The Hampden community and Westerburg community are prone to ridiculous conclusions and nonsensical actions because of how quickly stupid ideas get latched onto. The Greek class murders Bunny because they’re all downplaying each others’ best traits and drawing out the worst. I listened to an interview with Tartt where she points this out and states that nobody in the class would have become a murder on his or her own. There’s a well done scene in Heathers where Heather McNamara attempts suicide because she’s depressed but also influenced by what she thinks were here friends’ suicide. Veronica stops her and says “everybody jumped off a bridge, would you do it?” McNamara gives a very honest and defeated, “Probably.” Both stories explore how people can and often do go against rational judgment when others are involved.

/Tying it all together/

At their core, these stories are all doing the same thing: they’re showing how easily humans can be influenced by romantic ideals that they lose control of their moral judgment. The works all show that people can so dearly love the aesthetic of a person and what he or she represents that they create an illusion that masks the person’s flaws. Gatsby goes about this in a very respectful, dignified way. Heathers is full of humor and moments that are meant to be shocking and hilarious rather than realistic. The Secret History does both. It’s not as formal as Gatsby but not as outwardly making fun of itself and all is characters as Heathers is. It’s also partially satire but not at the level Heathers is; Heathers is literally just making fun of its own genre (teen romance films). It presents itself as a cliche movie then just swerves violently into insanity and a tone that mocks all its character archetypes. TSH and Gatsby are both much more up front. As a result, there are some scenes in TSH that strike me as very Gatsby (scenes where Richard is being more reflective and philosophical) but there are also scenes that are so wild they seem to be working how scenes from Heathers did.

Back to archetypes and tropes: While these stories have the same skeleton (a character facing reality after being caught up in romanticizing something), they explore things differently due to different social constructs and narrators of different backgrounds. We have an 30-year-old upper class man whom everyone treats as a secret-keeper. We have a new adult who desperately wants to put his lackluster and abusive childhood behind him. Then we have a teen girl who lacks a perspective outside the drama of high school. They all have personality differences and varying levels of culpability in the violence, with Richard having the most since he was a knowing participant in a murder. Veronica is next because she was part of a murder, stuck with J.D. longer than she should have, and covered things up, but was repeatedly tricked into killing when she didn’t want to. Nick rocked the boat but wasn’t a direct part of any death. Veronica takes back the most control at the end. She lights her cigarette on the explosion that killed J.D. (which, wow, metal). She tells J.D. she wants “cool guys” out of her life then goes to get new friends and move past what happened, as arguably unrealistic as that is. Richard ends up with the least control because he CAN’T move on; the events of the story have permanently damaged him in a deep, spiritual way. These endings lean into different concepts: Heathers lets the protagonist triumph and embrace her lesson. TSH focuses on how immorality has lasting effects on the soul. TGG ends by showing pity for people like Gatsby.

This is the same for J.D., Gatsby, and Henry. They’re very different kinds of people which provides variation to the concept they represent. TGG doesn’t present Gatsby as evil, just tragic and wrong. He did hurt people with his shady dealings, but he’s painted as a man who still has his soul. J.D. and Henry actually have pretty intense evil in them and a clear lack of concern for human life. Nick and Richard still hold love for Gatsby and Henry, even after all that happened. Veronica completely denounces J.D.

I mentioned this in the previous post, but I just love stories like this. I love characters who get these kinds of reality checks, and I love characters who have such strong passions that they have to struggle with. And all three of these stories are so very smart. They’re each so unique in the presentation of these similar ideas that none of them feel like a discount version of another. The methods of story-telling are so different, and their focuses, allusions, settings, tones, and motifs vary as well.

Wow, this is not even all I had to talk about. I could genuinely write a 40 page paper on this.

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qan-t · 6 months

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hello everyone it is time for Shipping Opinions. this is rambly and about locktie and why i'm not into it. disclaimer: if you locktie that is fine! i do not judge you as a person! if you don't want to read negativity about your otp that is also perfectly fine, please have a good day.

alright, let's begin. so a lot of why locktie doesn't work for me is that i can honestly only see it as going very very badly for the both of them in the long term. and don't get me wrong, i'm a Toxic Relationship Enjoyer. it's just that with these two in particular, especially tieria, it hits some really specific squick points for me, and i'll elaborate on that later. this is how i would interpret locktie in a scenario where neil survives fallen angels: i can see things getting co-dependent on tieria's part easily, especially taking Literally Everything Else into account. but most critically, neil never dies, so he never has to move past neil. and neil... i just can't see him able to genuinely reciprocate romantic feelings for anyone. frankly, i don't think he's interested in romance, and i also don't think he's in a mental state at any point in s1 where he'd even believe he has anything to offer to anyone romantically. in our 'neil survives' scenario, he still failed. allelujah and setsuna are missing, ali is still alive, celestial being is in shambles, the world has not changed... the man would be a wreck. if he somehow ended up in a relationship with tieria, i can only see it as some kind of one-sided placation on neil's part. maybe he'd feel like "appeasing" tieria in this way is some of the only value he can provide to anyone anymore? imagine tieria confesses his feelings. neil is reeling from everything, he sees how vulnerable tieria is... better to just go along with it, right? though that feels like a stretch of characterization, itself. if tieria did have a romantic confession to neil prior to operation fallen angels, i think neil would have let him down gently precisely because of tieria's vulnerable mental state. for all neil knows, tieria's confusing guilt and gratefulness for love. even if neil did reciprocate, wouldn't he be concerned about taking advantage of tieria's guilt? ultimately, i see a relationship between the two as something that would be miserable for neil and detrimental to tieria's growth. there is a scenario where i'd be somewhat? more open to it, and that's S2-and-onward tieria/neil, and it's because tieria isn't vulnerable anymore. he doesn't need to rely on neil anymore. he's grown and come into his own and he can be the one that neil leans on instead. i mentioned squicks earlier. in locktie, tieria's often so soft and delicate and sad and vulnerable and feminine -- because apparently femininity and vulnerability simply must go together -- and neil is big and strong and comforting and manly! neil is going to Fix him! the gendered roles rub me the wrong way. i just do not like tieria being put in the "girl" role. some of this is personal gender baggage, possibly, but it is what it is. there's a lot of seme/uke vibes that aren't for me, either, and it often doesn't feel like a relationship between equals. again, i am a Toxic Relationship Enjoyer, but where tieria specifically is concerned, it squicks me surprisingly hard. and the thing is, neil can't fix tieria. neil can't even fix himself. neil is cool. he's a badass. and he's dead inside. he's not a hero that goes out in a blaze of glory -- he dies unfulfilled, filled with hatred, and that's what makes him so interesting. he's as broken as every other person on ptolemy. s2 tieria wouldn't be able to fix neil, either, because you can't fix other people in the first place, but s2 tieria would at least be on even ground with him. if neil's found something to live for and come to terms with everything -- which would take a hell of a lot -- then and only then can i see a healthy relationship maybe forming. all this in mind is why it's hard for me to enjoy locktie: not really being able to see it working out in the first place + characterization trends i've observed over the years. plus, overexposure. i can't help developing opinions when it's the fandom otp.

#gundam 00

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aemonds-sapphire · 3 years

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Comfort — Hawks x Reader

Hawks’ nightmares only got worse with each passing day, but you finally found a way to give him some comfort.

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort. Fluff. Mentions of trauma and abuse. Manga spoilers.

Word count: 1.1k

The scream pierced through your ears like pins and needles, jolting you awake at once.

Another nightmare.

You rolled over to Hawks’ side, nudging him lightly, but to no avail.

“No… no… dad… no!”

“Keigo…” you took his damp face in your hands, attempting to still his abrupt jerks. “Wake up…”

It broke you seeing him like this. You were no stranger to his nightmares. They had been a constant in his life and in your relationship with him. But they had doubled in the past few days, and would often occur more than once each night.

“Keigo…”

His writhing body suddenly stilled, letting you know he had snapped from his sleep. Even in the poorly lit room you were able to see beads of sweat sliding down his skin and strands of his blonde hair sticking to his damp forehead.

Hawks’ eyes remained firmly shut. “I’m sorry…”

Something inside you cracked.

As you watched him bring one hand to wipe the wetness from his face, you couldn’t help but feel helpless.

It seemed like tonight his abusive father had plagued his subconscious.

But far more than that haunted him these days. He had lost his wings — even if not permanently — to his confrontation with Dabi. For somekne who valued freedom as much as he did, you knew this transcended physical pain.

The winged hero was now caged.

He was now bound to the ground and to the guilt of having taken someone’s life. Even though he had never mentioned it to you, you could see remorse eating him from the inside out.

And if these truly gut-wrenching experiences were not enough to tear someone down, something else had broken his spirit.

The very man he had idolized from a young age was exposed as an abusive father and husband. With Dabi’s reveal came not only shame to the hero society, but unspoken pain to Hawks.

He wouldn’t speak of it. He couldn’t. Not now. And even though the general public now resented heroes, he couldn’t turn his back on them.

But there is only so much one can take before they break down.

“I’m here…” you whispered kindly, tracing his skin with your thumb, careful not to touch the burn scar that spread from his neck and into his left lower cheek. “What do you need?”

You were about to slide off bed to get him a glass of water when his hand gripped your wrist.

“Stay… please…”

His hooded golden eyes were fixed on you in a silent plea.

Your heart clenched tightly, and you didn’t dare say a word.

And still, he smiled faintly at you.

Because that’s what Hawks was best at. Being a beacon of hope and comfort to others even when he was the one in pain.

“I’m fine,” he said, knowing his body language told you otherwise. “C’mere…”

He shifted to the side, and motioned for you to join him.

“Keigo… you need to talk to someone about this…” you started slowly, and even though his smile quickly faded you carried on. “If you don’t want to talk to me, then please ask the comission for help.”

This was a blow to his pride, and it was splattered all over his face.

“I told you I’m fine. I knew what I was getting myself into when I decided to become a hero.”

“Really? You a child when they took you in.”

This was definitely not what you had planned. Hawks had a deep devotion to the commission, and, in a way, you could understand why. But it still left a sour taste in your mouth knowing that they used him to carry out their dirty work, which eventually cost him his wings.

“You don’t get it. You never will.”

There was no anger in his voice, but there was no point in prolonging this. You doubted he’d ever get mad at you, and deep down he knew you were right. But his pride was the only thing he had left now.

You heaved a deep sigh, scooting closer to him. “How can I help?”

The urge to make him feel safe was so ablaze inside you that it hurt.

His lips tilted into a genuine understanding smile. Hawks knew that you meant well, and he wanted you to be assured of that.

Fuck. You loved him so much.

“C’mere… please. Let me hold you.” He insisted once more.

You were still hesitant to, again, let him get off the hook so easily.

“Keigo…”

“I need you by my side,” he said, the grip on your wrist tightening with urgency.

You slowly lowered yourself next to him, until his chest was firmly pressed against your back as one of his arms circled your body, deepening the embrace.

“You’re so warm,” he whispered as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

There was a bittersweet feeling to this. One the one hand, you wished that he’d open up to you about his struggles, but on the other you were grateful that he hadn’t pushed you away.

Silence fell between you two, and for a brief moment it seemed like nothing else matter. Nothing else crossed your mind as his heart drummed into your skin and his fingers laced with yours.

After a while, you felt him rock his body lightly. You vaguely wondered if it was just him being playful, but soon realized that it was far from that.

He was lulling himself to sleep.

And it would have been fairly easy to overlook had you not known the cause of it. He had once shared how his mother had gotten him an Endeavor plushie as a child. For a long time, he relied on it for comfort. He’d cradle it in his arms when things at home got rough. The tiny stuffed object had provided Hawks with more comfort than his parents ever had.

The comission eventually took it away, claiming that it was unbecoming of a future hero to depend on such trifling things for emotional support.

Even if he refused to admit it, you knew that that was the exact moment when he first lost his freedom and became a puppet on their strings.

But it was crystal clear that old habits die hard, and in the event of traumatic events, your body will donits best to provide comfort.

And when you can’t do it by yourself, it will seek out another source.

In Hawks’ case, it was you.

You had taken the role of Endeavor’s stuffed toy. It was enough to fill your entire skin with goosebumps.

This felt far more personal than you had anticipated.

Being his safe haven even if only momentarily.

As his back and forth faint motion slowly faded into stillness, you realized he had fallen asleep. His steady breath fanned your neck, but his grip on you never eased.

And no more nightmares or wicked dreams dared haunting Hawks that night.

He was safe with you.

Masterlist

Thank you to my beloved @dabifixation for suggesting this to me ❤️

#hawks fluff #hawks x reader #hawks imagine #mha hawks #bnha hawks #hawks comfort #hawks x y/n #hawks scenarios #keigo takami #bnha fluff #mha fluff #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #hawks #hawks headcanons #hawks x you

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krreader · 3 years

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loving you is a losing game | the aftermath.

pairing: park jimin x sister!reader ; kim taehyung x actress!reader fandom: bts warnings: actress!reader ; language genre: angst ; fluff word count: 4k+ previous: x

summary: all that jimin ever wanted to do was protect you. this time, however, he failed you and his best friend, taehyung.

a/n: I told y’all I wouldn’t let you wait this time haha. I’m super glad to see all your feedback though, all your messages were wonderful and I love you all <3

Jimin had left that night when you and Taehyung had broken up. He couldn't bear looking into his eyes, knowing that he caused all this hurt to both you and him.

But when he walked back into the apartment the next day, he quietly sat down next to Taehyung for the first time since he found out about you and him and found Taehyung smiling at him.

Despite that, Jimin could tell that it didn't reach his eyes.

Throughout the next weeks, their relationship got better again. Still, he caught Taehyung stare at his phone so often and whenever the message from that special someone didn't come, he put it down and closed his eyes, visibly disappointed and sad. Jimin never mentioned you to him in those weeks, not knowing how to even bring it all up, but Taehyung didn’t seem like he wanted to talk about you anyway.

Simultaneously, Jimin tried calling you multiple times, but was never able to get a hold of you.

It was only when his mother finally called and told him that you had come home that he decided to drive up to Busan in hopes of mending the relationship with you... if that was even possible at thit point.

You weren't there when he arrived though.

“Where is she?” he asked his mother as soon as he stepped foot inside the house.

“I don’t know... she went out a few hours ago and hasn’t come back since,” his mother fidgeted with the kitchen towel in her hand, “I’m worried, Jimin.”

Jimin knew were you were.

Where you always were when you were upset and couldn’t stand being at home.

It was only a 10 minute walk to a secluded area at the beach where him and you used to spend all your childhood at. You often knocked heads with the family and whenever you did, you came here to think. The only one that you ever told about this place was Jimin, the only one in the family that you always knew you could lean onto.

Funny how times had changed.

And indeed, there you were, sitting in the sand, staring out at the beach, not moving a muscle when he sat down next to you.

That’s a good start, right?

Jimin tried to find the right thing to say, but he couldn't. Nothing made sense when it was all his fault, when he was simply too proud to see you and his best friend dating, thinking that it was somehow wrong.

But what was wrong was you and Taehyung feeling this way because of him. He had only seen Taehyung, but he saw how heartbroken he was. He could only imagine what you must feel like, as Taehyung was the one that broke up with you... for Jimin.

“I looked up to you my entire life, you know? Way before you became an idol, even. Every time someone would ask who I wanted to be when I grew up, I answered Park Jimin. People would laugh, but I didn't care, because you were my biggest hero. You were the one person that always made people happy, were always happy to bring smiles into people’s faces and where always there when I needed you. And I was always so proud to call you my brother,” you turned your head to look at him, him looking right back at you with wide eyes, “Now I wish I didn't even know you.”

“You don't mean that,” he said quietly, but his voice broke nonetheless.

“I guess it doesn't really matter anymore.”

“It does,” Jimin instantly grabbed your hands, “Please, listen to me. Let me explain why..-”

“BigHit was very kind and introduced me to someone from Marvel. They offered me a role in their newest movie,” you interrupted him mid-sentence.

BigHit? Jimin was taken aback at first, but then his blood instantly started to boil, knowing damn well they did that because they wanted you to leave for Jimin and Taehyung to mend their relationship, even if it meant further breaking that of him and you.

They couldn’t care less about your relationship with Jimin.

“I'm leaving next week and if things go well, I might stay. Being a Hollywood actress surely isn't so bad.”

“(Y/N), listen to me,” he shook his head to get BigHit out of his thoughts, “I just want you to..-”

“No, Jimin,” you got up, him instantly doing the same, “I don't think you realize just how much I meant what I said before.”

“But we're family! Stop saying these things, they don't make sense,” Jimin was a very emotional person. He couldn’t hold back his tears when he realized you were slipping out of his grasp fast. You were still staying strong though, “You're my baby sister. The one I'm always supposed to protect, the one that I can't lose...”

You gulped down hard, knowing the impact of what you said next, “You already have.”

You walked away after that, not being able to see the dispair in his eyes, before he slowly crumbled and started sobbing.

And even though you wanted to be cold, when you walked away, a few tears escaped your eyes, knowing that you just lost the love of your life and brother in a matter of weeks.

But that was ultimately the reason why you had to leave. The loss of such important people, where everything reminded you of both, you wouldn’t be able to function anymore. So you decided that leaving was the best option.

Your mother must have known about this beforehand, because when Jimin walked back into the house, she instantly opened up her arms for him, her son cradling against her chest and crying into it like he was a young boy again.

“It’s going to be okay... she’ll forgive you,” she whispered into his hair, gently rubbing over his back, “Just give her time. Time and space is what she needs most right now.”

He knew that she was right, but not doing anything and just letting you leave was so fucking hard for him. He ended up staying at his parents the entire week, not knowing what to do with himself otherwise.

And it was only when he came home a week later and you had already left for the US, that he looked right into Taehyung’s eyes and knew he had to be the one to tell him that you were gone.

“Hollywood,” he repeated, a small smile spreading on his face. Jimin couldn’t see his eyes, but he assumed that it didn’t reach them, “She always dreamt of that.”

“Yeah... she did,” Jimin gulped down hard and continued to stare at Taehyung, because he could tell that he wouldn’t hold out for much longer.

And indeed, within seconds, he started sobbing, so hard, that Jimin instantly pulled him into his arms and tried to calm his shaking body best friend down.

And once again, all that Jimin could think was: this is all my fault. I destroyed their lives... their future.

In all these months that you were gone, Jimin didn't give up, even if his mother told him that it was no use. He kept trying to text and call, not caring that you never responded. The only way he could see was through promotional photos from set, through interviews and the only way to really know what was going on with you was when his mother told him about it.

With each and every day you slipped more and more away from him, until one day he realized that he completely lost you, yet Taehyung was right at his side, holding his hand at a concert and smiling at him, showing him that he was still here... because he chose him.

Taehyung chose him over you.

And as Jimin was looking into his best friend’s eyes, filled with tears, Taehyung instantly knew what he was thinking about... or rather who.

Not wanting ARMY to catch on, Taehyung pulled him into his arms and held onto him firmly.

“It's my fault,” he whispered into his ear, “We lost her... because of me.”

And unfortunately, he was right.

That night, Jimin and Taehyung sat down together on their balcony at home and talked about the entire thing for the first time... ever.

“How did it start?” Jimin asked.

Taehyung was hesitant at first, but then he started pouring his heart out, seemingly happy that he was finally able to share this story with someone, “It was when we had a concert here years ago. She came to watch it and I was having a really bad day. I locked myself in a room and just cried... or at least I thought I locked the door. She walked in on me having that mental breakdown. And you know her... she worried like crazy,” he let out a laugh, “She always worried about me. Right from the start.”

“She got that from our mom,” he said with a small smile.

“She stayed with me that day until I stopped crying, held my hand and told me that things would get better again. And the next day, she texted me this entire paragraph about how good I was doing and how proud she was, not just of me, but of the band. I felt... really bad about her worrying so much over me, so I asked her if she wanted to have dinner with me. She agreed, but then we couldn't agree on a restaurant and ended up eating Ramen at the Han. We talked all night long... just talked...”

Jimin listened tentatively, but his eyes became sadder within each second again, especially when he saw how much this still affected Taehyung. The more he talked about you, the more his eyes lit up, but then that flame quickly disappeared again when he realized this was all in the past.

“We did that once a week, then. Just meeting up to talk. We did nothing else for four months. And then one day I looked at her and I realized that I had fallen for her... without me even having noticed it. It just hit me right in the face. Like... wow. I really love that girl, you know?”

“Did you tell her?”

“Couldn't. I felt really bad for even having these feelings. Because... you know,” he looked at Jimin, but he didn't say that it was because of him, “I hid it for months until she called me one night, completely drunk and asked me to pick her up. I did, drove her home, got her into bed and that's when she began crying, poured her heart out and told me that she had fallen in love with me, but hated herself for it, because she knew that loving me would hurt you. And she couldn't hurt you, not when you meant the world to her.”

Great, he thought this couldn't get any worse.

“We put the cards out on the table a week later and realized that we only had two options. End it before it even began or try and keep it a secret so that you wouldn't get affected by it. We picked the second option and promised to not tell you until we warmed you up to the idea. But... that obviously hadn’t worked out.”

Jimin gulped down his drink in one go, swirled it around in his mouth for a moment, then quietly said after a moment: “Why'd you choose me when you loved her so much?”

A question that he had always wondered about.

“I thought it was the right decision.”

“You thought?”

Taehyung looked up at the stars, “You did so much for me in the past... I wouldn’t be here as the person that I am if it hadn’t been for you. So at the time, it made sense. But now that I see my empty future... I see that I fucked up. Because she was my future.”

Jimin didn't reply, just lowered his head in shame.

“I even bought her a ring, you know?” Taehyung laughed, though only to hide the hurt, “But that's on me that I didn't give it to her. I thought I still had time.”

“Maybe you do.”

Taehyung looked at his best friend, the sad smile back on his face, “It’s easier to forgive a brother than it is to forgive someone like me. And I can’t even blame her,” he pulled out the ring from his pocket, a beautiful ring that looked a lot like an engagement ring, but Jimin didn’t ask any further questions, “I’d pick her any day now over everything and everyone. But I don’t have that chance anymore. So all I hope for now is that you and her will be happy again.”

Jimin sighed deeply, “If I could turn back time, I would. I would do things differently, give you my blessing and tell you that I'm happy for you.”

Taehyung just leaned back, still playing with the ring as he continued to look up at the stars, “I know you would.”

You had successfully avoided your family for a while now, always putting your career first and not looking at anything other than. Your parents were often angry, up until you literally flew them out because there was no way you’d step foot into Korea again so soon.

But while you were now one of Hollywood’s upcoming actresses due to your hard work, your oldest brother had found love and was getting married. And well... this one, you couldn't get out of.

“Thanks for coming,” your brother hugged you when you finally arrived at the venue, “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” you smiled, “And I'm so happy for you. I can't wait to finally get to meet the lucky woman.”

“Ha, you're just saying that, you'll tell embarrassing stories about me the moment that you meet her.”

You just wiggled your eyebrows, then smiled even brighter when you heard your mother let out a loud squeal and pull you into her arms, your father hugging both of you, not wanting to wait any longer for his daughter to be in his arms.

“Finally, my beautiful daughter,” she leaned back a little, tears in her eyes, making you and your brother chuckle.

“Mom, you're not supposed to cry yet.”

“Ah, stop it,” she hit your brother and then turned him around, “What are you even doing here, you need to get ready. I'll help you. And you? Don't run off, alright? I want to spend some time with my daughter.”

“I won't,” you chuckled and watched them disappear, your father just following them with a chuckle.

And of course, there was one person missing in the mix. Should have known that he’d show up sooner, rather than later.

“You look beautiful,” the voice made you take in a deep breath, then let it out once you were looking at him.

He wasn't the confident man that you once know standing there. He was unsure, nervous, sad, but at the same time, happy to see you.

“Thank you.”

“I wasn't sure whether or not you'd come. If I had known..-”

“Don't be ridiculous, you're his brother too.”

“I wasn't talking about me.”

A second later, Bangtan joined him, Taehyung immediately stopping when he saw you.

After all this time, you thought that you were over it. You thought that if you were to ever see him again, you’d just keep your cool, smile and be graceful about it, but your heart seemed to break all over again.

If it hadn’t been for Jeongguk, you maybe even would have started to cry as all the memories were flooding back in. Especially the ones about the break-up.

“I saw your movie,” Jeongguk beamed, “You were so cool!”

“Thanks,” you shook your head a little, now focusing on the youngest member so that you didn’t have to look at either Taehyung, nor Jimin anymore, “I should.. probably go inside and say hello to everyone.”

Jimin took a step forward, his hand reaching out, but then he quickly dropped it, just like his shoulders did.

None of them were affected by you, only Jimin and Taehyung. Both of them were left standing there, even though the others followed you inside.

Taehyung was the first to speak: “I shouldn't be here. I'll only make her uncomfortable.”

“No, please. Please, stay.”

It was the desperation in his eyes that made Taehyung nod, ultimately.

Still, he didn't feel like he belonged here anymore. Not when he broke your heart and ruined so much in your family.

And throughout the entire wedding, he couldn't focus on anything but you. And as if you could feel his eyes burning into the back of your head, he often found you turn around to look at him, Taehyung quickly averting his gaze to look somewhere else instead.

On a more positive note, the celebration was beautiful, your brother's wife was glowing and he was the happiest you had ever seen him. Even if you had wanted to leave early... you couldn't. You had missed this, missed him, missed your mother and father, missed the memories all these three brought you.

And if you were being honest... you even missed Jimin.

A conversation that you had with your mother a while ago came back:

“He visits a lot these days, you know? Jimin, I mean. He always goes up to your room and makes sure that it’s cleaned... just in case you’re coming back anytime soon.”

“I won’t,” you said plainly.

You heard your mother sigh on the other end of the phone, “You know, (Y/N), I will never presume to know what it must have felt like, your brother doing this to you and your partner betraying you like this. But do you want it to be like this for the rest of your life? Do you want to hate Jimin forever?”

“I don’t hate Jimin,” you hadn’t even thought about it, were even surprised when you said it, “I just.. don’t know how to forgive him.”

“You won’t know until you talk to him again, my love. You can ignore him for the next years to come, but you won’t come any closer to forgiving him. So if that is truly what you want... then talk to him.”

And so after you gulped down your champagne and took a deep breath, you walked outside and joined your brother that was standing on his own.

“So, you'll be the next to get married?” Jimin was so surprised when you started to talking to him as he was getting some fresh air outside, but you didn’t look angry. Maybe unsure of how to talk to him, but not hostile.

“What? With whom?” he laughed nervously, “I haven’t had a girlfriend in years.”

“Ah, I'm sure mom has a few girls that she's eyeing. What was that one girl’s name... the daughter of the baker.”

“Please, don't. I still have trauma from that awkward date that she forced on me,” you both snorted and suddenly the atmosphere between you felt like what it once was. And Jimin hated to ruin it, but he had to know: “Are you okay? I mean.. we haven't talked in a long time and I only hear what mom tells me.”

“You know how it is when your career is at its peek. A lot of stress, but a lot of rewards too.”

“I wasn't talking about your career, I was talking about you.”

You pondered over your next words for a moment, then you said: “I had a lot of time to think about everything. About my life,” you began to smile, even if only just a little bit, “I don’t know when I’ll be able to look at you and not feel hurt. But... when I look at you now, I also realize that I’ve missed you. And if my heart tells me that, then I can’t really hate you, right? So I would like to... I don’t know. Talk. A little. Maybe.”

And his entire stance changed instantly. His shoulder slumped, he began taking in a sharp breath of air and he was on the verge of tears.

“No, don't cry,” you shook your head, even let out a little laugh, “I’m just saying that I’d like to try again. You’re my big brother and... mom is right. I don’t want to spend my life trying to hate someone that I still love. Deep down.”

“I'd like that,” he said, pressing his fingers into his eyes when he couldn’t control the tears anymore.

You just smirked.

The wedding was slowly dissolving. The first guests had left hours ago and now it was only the family left, but even those were beginning to say their goodbye’s.

At a table, Bangtan was sitting with your brother, laughing wholeheartedly.

But one person was missing.

You walked back into the room where your brother and his wife had gotten married and found him standing at the altar, staring at it.

It was hard for you to come up with something to say, so you just waited until he finally noticed that you were here.

“Always thought I’d see you in a hall like this with a wedding dress on while you’re walking towards me, you know?” Taehyung said with a sad smile.

“It probably would have been like that if you hadn’t chosen my brother that night,” you approached him, to Taehyung’s surprise.

“Yeah, I don’t think he looks as pretty as you would in a wedding dress.”

This caught you off-guard. So much, that you actually began to laugh.

He always knew how to break the ice.

“Did you know that he used to wear mom’s dresses and play teaparty with me when we were kids? I thought he looked really pretty.”

“That’s very valuable information that I will bring up at the right time, thank you very much.”

Given your uncomfortable and awkward hello earlier, he hadn’t expected you to talk so casually with each other, but... maybe time healed some wounds.

Taehyung wanted to take a step forward to be closer to you, but he wasn’t sure if you were okay with that, so he just stayed right there.

“I regret it every single moment of my life, you know? Every waking moment I think of you and hate myself for what I did to you. For what I did to us.”

You didn’t reply, just gulped down the clump in your throat.

“If only I had made the right choice that day... if only I had tried to convince Jimin that I was good for you and that you would be safe with me... then maybe it would have been us standing here today.”

In regards to Taehyung, you also had a lot of time to think. Whereas you always just felt hurt in the beginning, you tried to put yourself in his shoes eventually.

What if it had been Taehyung’s sister that objected so much to your relationship that you knew it was either her, your best friend, or Taehyung? Would you have picked him and thrown away a year-long friendship?

Would you have picked him over the girl that knew your deepest and darkest secrets? That walked through hell and back for you? That loved you unconditionally and would forever, no matter what?

The answer to this question was the reason that you were the one to take a step towards Taehyung.

“But it is you and me standing here today.”

His breathing got uneven, even more so when you took another step towards him.

“How can I fix this, (Y/N)?” he whispered, “I’ll do anything... I swear, anything.”

You reached out until your hand cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing over the softness of his skin, “I don’t know how long it would take...”

Taehyung wrapped his hand around your wrist, making sure that you didn’t pull back.

“You have my life, (Y/N). I don’t care how long it takes, I will do anything to convince you that I’m not making the same mistake twice.”

It wouldn’t be easy, forgiving him, nor Jimin was something that you could do in a matter of minutes. But you wanted to try, so that your heart could finally get rid of all the hurt and hate.

So you wrapped your arms around him and hugged him, breathing in the scent that instantly brought back memories, but this time, all the good ones.

And so you smiled, Taehyung pulling you closer and burying his face into your neck.

“I’m so sorry, beautiful.”

And while the two of you were standing at the altar, hugging, Jimin was standing in the entryway with a smile and let out a happy sigh.

“Please be happy together... because I love you both so much.”

457 notes · View notes

cattypatties · 3 years

Text

Tell Me

Silence

Noun

Complete absence of sound.

Except, that wasn’t true for this situation.

The two rivals did sit in silence, but that only applied for them. As for the rest of the world? No, no it didn’t. The bonfire crackled before them, and nature around them made noise too, the crickets mainly. The small sounds of shifting, and other things, before suddenly it was broken by a loud snore instantly getting the duo’s attention as they snapped their heads to look over to the ex-security guard DJ with an arm around Kate, snoring loudly. Daffy let out a small breath of relief before he heard the fire crackle more and a roasted carrot was brought up in front of his bill a second time that night.

“You sure you don’t want one?”

“No, like I said the first time, Bugsth.”

He said, before falling back into silence.

There was almost a tension in the air, both able to sense it, mainly Daffy who clasped his hands together resting his arms on his knees, hunched towards the fire. His hands shaking a bit, the raven feathered duck staring intently at the fire now. As he swallowed a bit, before his eyes flicked to the rabbit, teal locked with gold.

Bugs really was the perfect guy…funny, charismatic, just a bit cocky, and overall charitable. His golden eyes, like drops of honey, swirling with color and entrapping. He could get lost in them and at this rate? He already was, at least until Bugs cleared his throat awkwardly, Daffy in turn snapping out of it and backing up slightly from when his body had apparently shifted to lean towards Bugs. He looked away feeling his face heat up a bit, before shaking it off. As he turned back to the rabbit who gave him a confused look. The duck finally deciding to break the silence between the two of them

“..Bugsth?”

“..yes?”

“How..?”

He asked quietly, which wasn’t usual for the loud mouth Daffy was known as. Even surprising Bugs, who earlier that night recalled their conversation, noting specifically that..well to put it simply, Daffy had reached out to him and was extremely vulnerable, no hidden intentions, no sarcasm. Just as quiet as he was now. Though they didn’t get anywhere with it because Bugs Bunny, despite everything that he was written as, wasn’t emotional. At least not in the serious way like their rival company. Usually most conflict was solved by dropping an anvil on the other, or a pie to the face, something the audience would laugh at, that Bugs would laugh at, but he knew deep down, that wasn’t what Daffy needed from him.

After all..they were best friends.

So, hesitantly, he replied.

“Eh, what do you mean ‘How’?”

He asked, cringing at how almost dismissive and genuinely confused he sounded. He didn’t bother looking at Daffy when he did reply, after all this was brand new territory for Bugs, he wasn’t meant to be..like this.

He wasn’t meant to be vulnerable.

After a couple minutes he heard a small scoff, presumably from Daffy. The duck seemingly not happy about his response, as if Bugs was just that uncaring and unbothered.

“I mean, the conversation we just had, bucktooth.” He spat, his anger clear in his voice before he calmed down and ran hand through his hair.

Frustrated, Daffy stood up and walked off to a nearby canyon wall, pacing next to it, before leaning against it and crossing his arms, huffing. Bugs got up and followed him, after taking his roasted carrot off the stick he put it on, walking over, carrot in hand as he took a bite from it, leaning next to Daffy, facing him.

“The conversation about..?”

“You should know.”

The duck snapped at him, looking towards him again.

“Warner brothers?”

There was another silence, if only for a few minutes before Daffy grabbed that stupid carrot away from the rabbit and threw it as far as he could into the desert and before Bugs could even make a comment, the toon grabbed him by his arms and shoved him against the canyon wall angrily, as he glared at Bugs. His body was shaking as he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“N-NO! GOD- g-god no! It’s not about them!”

He yelled out, desperately.

His eyes wide now as they looked panicked, hurt, and genuinely taken aback. Causing the bunny to go dead quiet watching him, his whiskers tangled and eyes wide too.

“I-it’s about me! About you!—US.”

He cried out shaking him a bit

“Daff-“

“You don’t get it, do you?! I have been working my whole life to get to the top! I have done everything you did and better!”

The Duck said, voice breaking slightly, unbeknownst to him, the two humans sleeping nearby, waking up to see them, as they watched holding their breath.

“Everything those damn executives have ever asked of me, I’ve done! I played the role of the villain, I played the role of the dumb rival to the great Bugsth Bunny! I did E-EVERYTHING!”

He yelled louder, letting go of Bugs arms and pressing a finger to his chest.

“I know my role! But does the audience care? No! Because you’re the hero, you’re the good guy that everyone cheers for! I’m all bam! Wham! Ka-POW!”

He said smacking himself on the head, as stars flew around it.

“I’d rather work for that rat over at Disney than deal with this!”

He growled, right up in Bugs face.

Bugs backing up further against the wall, watching Daffy and although he was taller he felt a thousand times smaller.

“D-Daff..it’s..”

“Don’t say it isn’t true. Don’t lie to my face rabbit!”

Bugs felt his heart pounding crazily, his breath hitching, watching Daffy yell, it wasn’t like all those times before when they argued and then they did something funny, this was raw anger. This was..reality, it wasn’t an act and of course he knew this, he knew it the moment Daffy snapped. It just,, was a lot to take in.

Daffy upon seeing Bugs expression backed up, quietly as he looked down at his hands which were by his sides in clenched fists.

He frowned, feeling something prick at his eyes, when suddenly, a soft silky hand was put to his shoulder and his eyes flicked up towards the grey bunny.

“Daffy.. I didn’t know you..”

He took a deep breath

“I’m really, truly, sorry.”

The two looked at one another, before Daffy shrugged him off taking a few steps back.

“I’m not coming back to that studio, and I am not dealing with this, I’m gonna get that blue monkey diamond for myself…”

He looked away from Bugs

“See ya around Bugsth.”

He murmured, starting to walk off, before in one swift motion Bugs grabbed his wrist, stopping Daffy.

“Daffy.”

The duck turned to look at him and the moment he did, regret filled him because the rabbit was tearing up slightly, and of course it could’ve been an act, they were actors, but it just felt different. He watched Bugs, holding his breath, the Rabbit sniffling slightly.

“Tell me you didn’t have at least one good memory.”

He said looking to him, which in turn made the Duck look away, before Bugs got closer.

“Daffy.”

He repeated, his voice wavering as the Duck turned back again, Bugs only a few inches away. Daffy swallowed, his face heating up a bit.

The two just a few inches apart, staring. Kate and Dj looking at them, as they watched Bugs get closer

“Tell me.”

He repeated once again, his voice breaking slightly.

Daffy looking to him and sighing

“Yeah..I did have one.”

He answered softly, glancing down. Eventually moving to take Bugs’ hand in his as he rubs a thumb over his knuckles blushing more, thankful his feathers were so dark that Bugs couldn’t see. Another hand being placed over his from the grey bunny as the toon glanced up at him, as he looked to their hands again as Bugs’ hand just covered Daffy’s hand.

“…the first time we met. I swear..”

He chuckled softly smiling a tiny bit

“You were brand new and shy. Like incredibly shy and when we shook hands you were shaking from nerves, I had never seen someone so nervous and you even admitted to me..that I was..your hero…me, Daffy Duck..your hero. I was amazed, and flattered.. and it was nice for the time it lasted.”

Bugs listened, and watched Daffy’s body language, the duck having never been this genuine about something. He supposed he forgot after seeing Daffy play his role for so long, that he..wasn’t that type of guy, but because everyone thought he was, he continued playing that role. Daffy had put on a mask..and Bugs finally got to see it come off, he got to see him smile..

Daffy rarely smiled happily.

That smile..was beautiful, it lit up the world in that one moment. It even made Bugs smile a tiny bit too, even despite their situation, however, as soon as it appeared, it was gone. The duck frowning now, the two friends quiet.

Bugs felt terrible, a wave of guilt washing over him, as he considered Daffy’s words, he recalled his movements and his tone, and when he finally realized Daffy was probably going to leave, he didn’t know if he should even bother stopping him, because it was obvious that Bugs Bunny had failed Daffy Duck as a friend. He failed terribly hard and honestly? No amount of apologies could fix this.

But he wanted to so badly.

Because despite everything there was a reason Bugs kept chasing after Daffy when he did anything, there was a reason he always was willing to help him. There was a reason now why Bugs had grabbed him, and was trying to stop him.

There was a reason, He had such a soft spot for Daffy.

Bugs swallowed, as he snapped out of it and locked eyes with the toon. He stepped closer, as close as he could and pulled Daffy into a hug.

The raven feathered bird freezing up in his arms, his arms in turn raising up in surprise as his breath hitched. The duck, not moving.

“B-Bugsth?”

“..I-I’m sorry.”

He said, holding back his tears as he hugged Daffy’s thin frame tighter.

The Duck tensed up, before eventually hugging back as he closed his eyes, tearing up too. The two hugged each other tightly and stayed like that for the rest of the night, unmoving.

#bugs x daffy #bugs and daffy #daffyduck bugsbunny looneytunes #baffy #my writing #my fic #bugs bunny #daffy duck

143 notes · View notes

arvandus · 3 years

Note

🎉750!!🎉

Congrats on the milestone!! I’m so happy to see your blog growing because I really do think you deserve it! 💖💖💖

I hope you’re still accepting requests for your event. I can’t decide between Hawks (who I love) and Dabi (who you write so well ❤️) so I’ll let you pick whichever gives you more inspiration. Anyway, can I have “best friends to lovers” headcanons for whoever you decide on?

Thanks and congrats again!!! 😘

Thank you so much! 💕 I will totally write Hawks for you! I've actually been really enjoying writing his character, he's one of my favorite to write for. :) Sorry if this got a bit long.... you know how I am... Hawks x Reader (Friends to Lovers)

🪶 Keigo has never had a shortage of ‘friends.’ That doesn’t mean that any of those friendships are meaningful, though. Fame is like that. Everyone wants to know you, wants to be close to you, to use the word ‘friend’ like a VIP ticket, not realizing that the word has lost its meaning, its value cheapened by fake smiles and invasive questions.

🪶 Which is why meeting you is so interesting.

🪶 The first thing Keigo notices about you is that you’re nice. Not the kind of ‘nice’ that’s used as a tool, that screams of shallowness fueled by selfish motive. No, your kindness comes from within, and it is given to everyone. It is just a part of who you are, genuine goodness wrapped in a gentle smile.

🪶 The second thing he notices is that, unlike so many others, you don’t go out of your way to throw yourself at him. You smile and greet him when you see him, ask him how he’s doing, but you never try to push anything past that. You never try to take more than he’s willing to give.

🪶 It almost makes him feel normal, whatever that means. He’s not familiar with normal, never has been. He’s good at faking it, of course… but real normalcy? What even is that?

🪶 Whatever it is he’s feeling, he likes it.

🪶 Keigo enjoys the gradual slow pace of your growing friendship. It’s a nice contrast to his fast lifestyle. When he’s around you, everything slows down and he can breathe.

🪶 He starts spending more time with you, meeting up for lunches and going out for drinks after.

🪶 Boy, do the tabloid papers enjoy that… rumors fly faster than Hawks’ feathers.

🪶 He 100% gets in trouble with his PR manager; after all, he’s supposed to be Japan’s #1 bachelor.

🪶 The two of you laugh about it though. You two? An item? Please. You’re just good friends.

🪶 The friendship doesn’t grow to best friend level until you two start hanging out in the privacy of your homes. It’ll be small, casual things at first - maybe he’ll come by to pick up the jacket he lent you. Or maybe you’ll drop off some cookies you baked. It’ll happen gradually, naturally. A lunch here, a movie night there.

🪶 Once that happens, Keigo starts opening up more to you. After all, there are no paparazzi watching him, no clicking of cameras, no risk of conversations being recorded. It’s slow going and be patient with him - he’s likely never had this level of friendship before. You open up to him too, and it only brings you two closer together as you two build your trust.

🪶 Once that trust is established, you become the center of his world. He doesn’t realize it though, at least not right away. He just knows that he wants to be around you. All. The. Time.

🪶 Keigo suddenly starts seeing you differently. You shine a bit brighter, catching his eye whenever you’re in his presence. He becomes super invested in your happiness, more so than ever before. He’ll do anything to see you smile, and keep finding reasons to be around you. He might even get a little protective.

🪶 He finally gets his epiphany that he’s falling for you when he drops something work-related when you desperately need him. He’s never done that before, and he notices. Somehow you’ve become his top priority. More important than hero work, more important than anything.

🪶 Cue Keigo’s internal panic. He suddenly realizes how vulnerable you make him and he’s not sure how to feel about that.

🪶 Don’t be surprised if he pulls away at first. Love is scary if you’ve never felt it before. Especially like this.

🪶 Keigo’s entire identity has been defined by his work as a hero. He’s had nothing else. He was literally trained into this role. Suddenly his identity becomes more than that. It becomes tied to you.

🪶 He’s going to be grappling with a lot of guilt and fear. Does he even know how to be more than just a hero? Is it possible to make space for you in his crazy life? And what about you? Could you really handle the pressure that his fame might bring on you? You’ve already dealt with it somewhat as his friend, but handling it as his partner will be so, so different. Most importantly… could he even be enough for you? Sure he’s a famous hero. But deep down he’s just…. Keigo: a lonely man from a broken childhood. When all is said and done, what does he really have to offer?

🪶 It’ll take him some time. Eventually though, he’ll come around. Especially once he realizes that he’s on the verge of losing you (he did ghost you for a while after all…).

🪶 When he finally does come to terms with his feelings for you, he’ll show up unannounced at your door.

🪶 First words: “I’m sorry.”

🪶 Maybe you’ll need time to talk to him. Or maybe you’ll accept him right away. That part is up to you. But when you do finally accept his apology and he learns that not only are you not going anywhere but that you also care for him in return, he’ll scoop you up into his arms and kiss you.

🪶 After that, you two will pick up where you had left off, falling into the deep-rooted habits of your strong friendship. But it’s more than that now. Because the two of you become two halves of a whole, enriching each other’s lives in ways that neither of you had ever had before. It’ll feel strangely familiar and yet wonderfully new. Filled with snuggles, kisses, and laughter, and the promise of a bond that will only grow stronger with time.

#Arv's 750 Followers Event #Keigo x reader #keigo takami #keigo takami x reader #hawks x reader #hawks #bnha hcs #mha hcs #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #hawks hcs #keigo hcs #hawks headcanons #keigo headcanons

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sohotthateveryonedied · 3 years

Note

Hiii!! I really love your tumblr posts and I'm pretty new to the Batfam (meaning I have only read fics and textposts about them, no comics) and I wanted to ask about the year Bruce/Batman gets "lost in time". I know general things of what the kids have been doing–Dick became batman and fired Tim from robin, giving it to Damian, everyone thinking Tim was crazy for believing Bruce was alive, (don't really know what Jason was up to though, was he still murderous towards Tim? Does the pit still affect him? Also I have no idea about Cass and Duke, were they introduced at this point??) Anyways, my real question was why was Bruce lost in time, what villain put him there? And how did he get out? And how long was he "dead"? Was Bruce in another reality or like just asleep the whole time? Oh! And how soon did this happen after Damian got introduced to the family–a couple months?

I'm so sorry this is so long, but I hope you answer and thank you!!

(I’m going to try and cover all my bases here by going into how exactly Bruce “died,” what went down during the Battle For the Cowl, what the Batkids did while Bruce was gone, and how Bruce came back. Hopefully it all makes sense?? We’ll see how it goes lmao.)

Part 1 - What Happened to Bruce:

So there was this event called Final Crisis (which I won’t go completely into since it would make this post a million times longer than it already is), but the bottom line is that Darkseid wants to overthrow reality and release his Anti-Life Equation, which would overthrow the whole planet and turn everyone into slaves. (If you’re interested in knowing more about the storyline, here’s a Reddit thread that explains it WAY better than I could.)

What I CAN tell you is that during his final confrontation with Darkseid, Bruce is hit by an Omega Beam and turned into a burnt chicken nugget killed. Poor guy.

Final Crisis #6

Clark and Diana bring the body back to the Batcave and break the news to the Batfamily. Batman #687 covers a good portion of the aftermath such as Bruce’s funeral, the Batfamily grieving, and Dick coming to terms with his new responsibility of becoming Batman.

Batman #687

Part 2 - Battle For the Cowl:

Musical chairs time, fellas! After word gets out that Batman is gone, Gotham erupts into chaos. Dick doesn’t want to take over the mantle, Tim needs Dick to take over the mantle, and Jason says “fuck it” and takes over the mantle himself because somebody around here has to. He becomes this murderous psychopathic Batman and starts taking out criminals with deadly force because someone’s gotta do the job, so it might as well be him.

Batman: Battle For the Cowl #1

(Okay honestly, this series had some pretty bad characterization overall, which sucks since it’s such an important storyline. Jason is portrayed as this violent psychopath, which...okay, he was kind of insane after the Pit and all, but not to this degree. Personally, I choose to owe the bad characterization to Bruce’s death because as much as Jason resents Bruce for all he’s done, he does still love him and losing him would be devastating, which would exacerbate his already fragile mental health. As for Damian, this happens roughly three years after his first appearance, so we can assume it’s been a few months since he first joined the family. He’s still relatively new at this point, so nobody knows how to write him yet. He ends up being depicted as if his main two personality traits are Bratty and Assassin-Child and that’s it. It’s all just a mess.)

Anyway, Tim tells Dick to become Batman and stop Jason’s reign of terror. Dick says no, so Tim follows Jason’s lead by saying “fuck it” and putting on the cowl himself. He goes to confront Jason, which ends in Jason beating the crap out of him (again) and leaving him for dead after Tim declines his offer to become Jason’s Robin. Dick goes to save Tim and ends up fighting Jason.

Battle For the Cowl #3

Dick wins, Jason disappears, Tim is fine, and Dick finally gets his head out of his ass and becomes Batman.

Part 3 - What Happens to Each Batkid While Bruce is “Dead”?:

Dick:

As I said, Dick becomes the new Batman a month after Bruce’s death. He’s got big shoes to fill, and it takes some time for him to get used to his new role. He and Damian end up flipping around the classic Batman and Robin dynamic, with Batman now as the fun counterpart to Robin’s edginess. Dick, Damian, and Alfred relocate to the penthouse above the Wayne Foundation building, operating out of a secret Bat-Bunker in the basement.

Batman #688

Jason:

After Battle For the Cowl, Jason is still batshit insane and determined to make Dick’s already stressful life even harder by becoming a supervillain with an ugly costume and an even uglier hairstyle. (I know it’s just because the artist sucked, but still. Jason is horrifying to look at during this time.) He mostly just gets on Dick’s nerves by running around Gotham with his new sidekick Scarlet and killing criminals as Batman and Robin wannabes. Eventually, Dick has Jason committed to Arkham Asylum and he hangs out there until Bruce returns.

Batman and Robin (2009) #5

Tim:

Tim...doesn’t do great after Bruce’s death, mentally. Dick makes Damian Robin, his reasoning being that Robin is more of a sidekick and he sees Tim as his equal. By making Damian Robin, Dick hopes that it will give him the stability he needs to keep him from straying back toward the “bad” side. (It’s the right move ultimately, although his execution was pretty messed up since he didn’t discuss it with Tim beforehand, but he’s allowed to make mistakes. Dick’s father just died and now he’s in charge of picking up the pieces of their broken family. It’s a lot to handle.)

Long story short, Tim has a breakdown, realizes that Bruce is alive, dons the Red Robin identity, and cuts ties with his family to travel the world in search of proof. It’s a rough time.

Red Robin #1

Damian:

Our little guy becomes Robin! So proud of him! As I explained earlier, Dick makes Damian his Robin with the assumption that it will keep him out of trouble, and he’s right on that account. He mentors Damian, teaching him how to channel his violent instincts into something productive, and it works! Slowly but surely, Damian makes the transition from bratty assassin to actual hero!

Batman and Robin (2009) #22

Cass:

Duke sadly was not introduced at this point in time, so he missed out on all the pandemonium. Cass, however, has been Batgirl for years by now, but she got kind of pushed aside by the writers after Bruce’s death. Bruce disappears shortly after adopting Cass, but once he was “dead,” the writers sort of moved Cass around for a while, not quite knowing what to do with her. First she was with the Outsiders. Then they got disbanded and Cass tried forming a new network of heroes to take over for Batman if needed. Then she helped out in said network during Battle for the Cowl, taking care of a newly ravaged Gotham. Then Cass gave the Batgirl mantle to Stephanie Brown after she became disillusioned with the role, thanks to the loss of her father and mentor. Then Cass picked up and moved to Hong Kong to “follow Bruce’s plans” by continuing whatever work he had set up for her there. It was all very vague and confusing, and Cass more or less got swept under the rug during this time. Thanks, writers.

Batgirl (2009) #1

Part 4 - How Bruce Came Back:

When the Blackest Night storyline happens, the Justice League realizes that the corpse buried under Bruce’s grave is apparently not the real one and that he’s actually alive out there somewhere! How wild is that! This is further proven by Dick after he places Bruce’s body in a Lazarus Pit to revive, which has the same result because it’s very clearly Not Bruce and they should have listened to Tim from the start.

Batman and Robin (2009) #9

Anyway, what actually happened is that the Omega Beams that Darkseid shot at Bruce didn’t kill him, but rather blasted him back through time to the prehistoric era with his memories wiped. The Omega Energy inside of Bruce ends up catapulting him through various time periods, which is all part of Darkseid’s plan. With each time-hop, Bruce builds up more Omega Energy in his body which, when he gets back to his original time period, will be unleashed and destroy everything.

Batman: The Return of Bruce Wayne #5

It’s been a little under two years since Final Crisis, though in-universe it’s uncertain exactly how long Bruce has been “dead.” We can assume it’s been a year, give or take. The way he comes back is too scientific and complicated for me to understand, so uhhhh the bottom line is that Tim and a few Leaguers save Bruce at the Vanishing Point and the day is saved! Hooray!

Batman: The Return of Bruce Wayne #6

(If you want to read about how it actually goes down, then I seriously recommend reading Batman: The Return of Bruce Wayne. It’s only six issues, so it’s a quick read and it explains the situation far better than I ever could.)

Bruce eventually reunites with his family after spying on them for a period of time as Insider to see what has changed in his absence:

Bruce Wayne: The Road Home

After that, things quickly settle back into their new normal. Dick and Damian stay on as Batman and Robin. Bruce goes back to being Batman as well, with him handling Batman Incorporated business and Dick continuing as Gotham’s defender. Tim keeps the Red Robin outfit, Steph stays on as Batgirl, and Cass becomes Black Bat. Jason stays in Arkham for a while before filing an appeal to be moved to a regular prison. He kills 82 inmates in less than a week and gets transferred back to Arkham, which he promptly escapes from. It’s a ride, I tell ya.

Aaaaand that’s about it! I hope this answered all of your questions!

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verkja · 2 years

Text

Pt. 4

Previous | Masterlist | Next

In this part, Mures gets slightly meta and then we see what Radomil’s dream is about.

This ended up much, much longer than it was supposed to be, I expect because I failed to account for how much space it takes to write Plot, my old enemy.

CWs: References to past torture, references to past abuse, hypothetical drowning/suffocation, violence, minor eye trauma (black eye), implied PTSD, self-hatred, suicidal ideation, past animal injury, spiders. This is SFW. Please let me know if I missed anything! Chapter summaries here.

Words: Just under 5K

Only a few days of rain graced the scrubland each year; it was nearly a desert. Therefore, the mercenary company had truly terrible luck to end up drenched on a stormy afternoon while wandering across the barren land. Mures wished he could say he was surprised.

The damp air made his knee ache. It had been broken very thoroughly about a decade ago and always acted up during bad weather. So did a number of other injuries, but the knee was the worst. It didn’t help that the rain was cold, so his muscles felt stiff as well and put more strain on his joints.

Despite all this, he was surprisingly not miserable. The journey had gone smoothly of late, weather aside; the flat scrubland was easy to traverse, the company was mostly getting along, and they hadn’t run into enemies since the canyons. The spider he’d picked up was moulting and should be done before they reached the edge of its native environment, letting him safely release it.

More than that, he was still a bit giddy over recently having the friendliest conversation he’d ever had in his life. Radomil hadn’t spoken to him since the spider incident, but nor had he said much to anyone else; he also hadn’t told the others about the spider, as Mures had half expected he would. The spellsword was still a puzzle; he didn’t fit neatly into any one role.

As an apprentice, Mures rarely spent time with anyone besides his master; most of the people he knew were characters in folktales, each of whom had a specific part to play. He’d realised early on that the role he filled was one he really didn’t want to, but it wasn’t if he had much choice, and as the years passed he grew increasingly unsuitable for any other role. At this point, the idea that he could be anything else was laughable.

Once he was on his own and going out into the world, he’d realised life both was and was not like fiction. It was, in that danger and evil and selfishness were rampant, bad people typically came to bad ends (as did plenty of other people), and peasants usually got the worst of everything despite just trying to survive. It wasn’t, in that life had a severe shortage of honour and mercy and noble deeds.

This shouldn’t have been surprising - after all, the heroic protagonists of folktales wouldn’t be so remarkable if they came along every day - but he’d never quite managed to stop being disappointed by it. That was why he’d found Radomil’s performance with the dragon so intriguing. The sorcerer knew very well that he’d only ever be an antagonist in any story, but he still wanted to see something or someone measure up to the standards of the tales, even if it directly resulted in his death.

Radomil didn’t quite do that, because while he was certainly brave and skilled and kind to people, he was too detached and aloof to fill the role of a folk hero. And he had also been kind to Mures, which probably disqualified him as well, because any legendary warrior worth their salt would’ve killed the sorcerer as soon as look at him.

Mures knew the obvious solution was to stop trying to fit Radomil into the role of an archetype and think of him as just a person, not a character, but he wasn’t good at that. He felt adrift without stories as a framework to anchor his view of the world. They worked fairly well most of the time, so he rarely had a need to set them aside.

He could still appreciate Radomil without understanding him, though. Doing so was currently helping keep his spirits up despite the abominable weather.

The mercenaries were perhaps a day from the edge of the scrubland, but their progress had slowed. Mures trailed along at the back of the company, thick reddish mud oozing over the tops of his shoes and splattering the hem of his sodden robes.

His heels were starting to throb, scraped raw through the holes in his socks by the gritty sludge, but he didn’t want to suggest a break. For one thing, no one would listen, because they probably weren’t having the same problem; they all had high boots. These were much better for travelling than low shoes, but Mures’ ankles had been badly injured in the past and tended to hurt if cramped inside tall footwear.

For another thing, pausing wouldn’t help anyway, because the scrubland extended for leagues ahead of them with no sign of shelter. Taking a break would let him rinse out his shoes, but the mud would soon seep in again, and he’d get cold standing still in the rain. He was already uncomfortably chilly.

Normally, the knowledge that this discomfort wouldn’t let up until nightfall at earliest would prompt the sorcerer to fantasise about various methods of killing himself. He was wondering if it was possible to lie facedown in the mud until you died, or if instinct would prevent it, but only out of idle curiosity. There was no way he’d really choose to die now, when he finally had the possibility of seeing something - someone - who made reality slightly more like it ought to be. He didn’t particularly deserve to have something this good happen to him, but he had no intention of caring about that.

By the end of the day, his heels were bleeding and hurt badly enough that he had to limp. The cold mud was actually a blessing now; it numbed everything slightly.

The rain had stopped for the most part, but the air was freezing. As there were no mud-free spots anywhere on the ground, the mercenaries gathered some of the gnarled shrubs dotting the landscape to create platforms for their bedrolls. They ate alone, the usual campfire conversations lacking appeal in the absence of a campfire or anywhere comfortable to sit.

Shivering in the clammy darkness after a dispiritingly chilly meal, Mures was far too cold to sleep. Even after wringing out his robes and pulling his head down inside his bedroll, he couldn’t warm up. He wished he hadn't focussed his magical studies so intensely in dark sorcery, which was useless for creating heat; he could cool the damp air around him by draining the energy from it, turning specks of lingering rain into ice, but the reverse was beyond his capabilities. Resigning himself to a sleepless night, he curled into a ball in the centre of the bedroll and hoped morning would hurry on its way.

A foggily anaemic sunrise eventually crept over the edge of the scrubland. Mures had gotten up some time earlier to bandage his heels and try to rub the cramps out of his legs. He didn’t think anyone else had been up all night, but none of the mercenaries seemed to have slept well. They packed and set off in irritable silence.

Mures wasn’t in an especially bad mood - the horrible night balanced out his previous giddiness to produce a kind of equilibrium. Still, he was glad when the damp scrubland began to give way to stubby trees and bushes. Ahead of them on the left rose another line of mountains, while to the right stretched a verdant green field.

He paused to release the spider before they left the scrubland. It had finished its moult and had five slightly smaller legs to go along with the original three. Watching it scutter away across the just-dried mud without apparent difficulty, he briefly thought of calling Radomil’s attention to it, but decided not to; better not to waste the spellsword’s time.

The company brightened up as they passed through the increasingly lush foliage and approached the green field. Something about it seemed off, though, Mures thought. Iesto passed him as he slowed, and then they all stopped abruptly when Herve took a step forward and fell neck-deep into water.

‘It’s a bog,’ said Iesto, as Aure and Radomil pulled the spluttering warrior back to solid ground.

‘There shouldn’t be a bog here,’ Rhedyn said. She poked a foot into the mossy turf ahead; her toe broke through into muddy water. ‘This wasn’t on the map!’

‘Get the map out,’ Herve growled. He was wearing his spare set of clothing while his usual garb dried after yesterday’s rain; mud and silt now dyed the cream-coloured wool an unpleasant greenish tan.

The bog, it transpired, was on the map. It was just poorly marked. A single, winding line indicated a purportedly safe path across a largely blank space spotted with a few faint illustrations of grass.

‘Well, that’s wonderful,’ Aure said in disgust. ‘I thought we were getting close! It’ll take days to make it across this.’

‘Very damp days,’ Iesto added gloomily.

‘There’s an alternative route,’ Rhedyn said. ‘Look, just there - I think it’s a tunnel through that first mountain. Pretty direct, too, but there’s something in the middle…’

‘Shrine,’ Iesto supplied. He was peering around the side of Rhedyn’s shoulder. ‘A spirit is guarding it.’

‘What kind of spirit?’ asked Aure.

Iesto shrugged. ‘Don’t know. There’s a rune, but I can’t read it.’

Since Radomil was busy holding Herve’s pack while the warrior swapped his soaked, dirty attire for yesterday’s merely damp clothing, Mures came over to look at the map.

‘It’s the rune for blood,’ he told them.

‘A blood spirit? That’s not so bad,’ said Iesto. ‘We might need to let a little blood to pass its shrine, but that’s not a problem for us, right?’

‘Better than spending another day in the muck,’ Herve said. He’d finished changing, but still looked decidedly out of sorts.

‘It wouldn’t require anything fatal to appease it, right?’ Rhedyn asked uncertainly.

‘No,’ Radomil said. ‘We may need to write something in blood, or shed some of each other’s or our own. Nothing really dangerous. Spirits tend to stick pretty tightly to their portfolio.’

‘The tunnel it is, then.’ Aure clapped Rhedyn on the shoulder as the taller woman stowed away the map. ‘Let’s get to the mountains.’

The bog made for pleasant scenery as they walked along its edge. Mures might have enjoyed it more had he been fully awake, but even feeling hungover from lack of sleep, he found the vibrant moss a nice change from the last few weeks’ dry landscape. The others seemed to agree, as when they reached the foot of the mountains, he heard a few of them grumble about the return to greyer surroundings.

The entrance to the tunnel lay not far past the foothills; they reached it well before sunset, with enough time left to reach the other side before dark if the map showed accurate distances. The narrow, low-ceilinged cave looked like a natural feature of the landscape; perhaps the spirit had resided here before the shrine was built, rather than migrating to the spot after members of some long-lost civilization decided the passage needed a guardian.

Aure took the lead, carrying a torch. Radomil summoned a string of gently glowing runes above his shoulder and brought up the rear. They walked in silence; even soft noises echoed in the small space.

Mures felt reasonably at home. He’d spent a lot of time underground; caves, catacombs, and dungeons all commonly served as settings for various types of dark magic. Several of the other mercenaries seemed on edge, though.

The shrine stood in a wider area of the passage - not a proper cavern, but a chamber large enough that the company could all stand inside, and high enough that even Rhedyn and Herve didn’t have to stoop. Halfway across the room, an intricately carved archway stretched from one wall to the other. It looked pristine, runic carvings clean and unchipped despite its - its age - hm.

Mures started to speak at the same moment as Radomil. They stopped and stared at one another until the sorcerer gestured vaguely.

‘This isn’t for a blood spirit,’ Radomil said. ‘Those runes say it’s some kind of dream spirit.’

‘You sure?’ asked Iesto, squinting at the carvings.

‘Yes.’

‘How do we pass it, then?’ Aure helpfully moved the torch along the curve of the arch so they could read each rune.

‘It looks like we’ll have to… æv kvës æþ… it says we’ll need to watch one another’s dreams. Or half of us will.’

‘What does that mean?’ Rhedyn asked. She sounded nervous.

‘Pretty simple - three of us lie down on each side of the arch and go to sleep while in some kind of physical contact. Whoever’s on the far side will sleep and dream as usual, and the people on the near side will sleep as well, but they’ll dream the other people’s dreams with them.’

‘Sounds easy enough,’ said Aure, shrugging. ‘Heh, I call the near side. I want to see what you dream about, Herve.’ She prodded her friend, wiggling an eyebrow, but he didn’t look amused; in fact, his expression hung somewhere between furious and horrified.

He wasn’t the only one. Even in the dim light, Mures could see that Rhedyn’s face had gone ashen. ‘I can’t - I won’t do that,’ said the herbalist tightly. ‘I mean, I’ll be on the near side, that’s fine, but I’m not letting anyone see what I dream about.’

‘Best if I don’t either,’ said Radomil.

‘Nor me,’ Mures agreed.

‘Ah, that’s half, huh? Well, I guess I’ll have to skip on seeing…’ Aure trailed off as Herve bumped her on his way to the tunnel behind them. The older warrior’s face was set grimly, his jaw clenched.

When he reached the entrance to the shrine chamber, he stopped abruptly. He moved his leg to step forward, but it was as if he’d run into a wall. Mures closed his eyes for a moment and focussed; he felt a sphere of unfamiliar power around the shrine, passing through air and rock alike.

Slowly, Herve turned around. He was trembling. Staring at Mures, he said in a low voice, ‘You read the map wrong.’

‘No I didn’t,’ the sorcerer told him, sniffing. The rune on the map had been quite clear.

‘Then you lied about it,’ the warrior hissed. Suddenly, he was directly in front of Mures; he’d darted forward faster than the sorcerer had seen him move outside combat. His fist slammed into the centre of Mures’ chest, only just below his solar plexus.

‘Check the damn thing yourself, it -’ the sorcerer stopped talking as Herve punched him again, in the face this time. He barely managed to deflect the worst of the strike with an upraised arm.

Mures was concerned. He and Herve had fought before, and if it had just been a matter of the warrior hitting him until he felt better, he wouldn’t have cared. But this was different - Herve wasn’t mocking him or playing around with different strikes. He was going for damage, and as he drew back after the second strike, his hand dropped towards his sword.

The sorcerer tried to calculate whether he could dodge to the side, but the chamber was too small, and Herve’s broad-shouldered figure blocked too much of it off. Gritting his teeth, he conjured a strand of ice spikes with the hand he wasn’t using to block, aware that he’d be facing multiple opponents very soon. He’d try not to seriously injure Herve, but the rest of the company might not notice or care about that.

‘Stand down, Herve.’ Though not especially loud, Radomil’s voice snapped like a whip. Herve jerked upright, glaring wild-eyed at the company.

‘Rhedyn, get out the map,’ said Aure, keeping a close eye on her fellow warrior as he stood in place, vibrating with suppressed emotion. Radomil came up beside him and remained there while Rhedyn fumbled in her belt pouch. The glowing runes over his shoulder had changed, casting less light but appearing much more solid.

Rhedyn unrolled the map and handed it to Aure, who held it out to Radomil.

‘That’s the rune for blood,’ the spellsword confirmed. ‘The map’s incorrect, or out of date. The dream spirit probably drove out the shrine’s original resident.’

Herve growled incoherently and spun on his heel, pacing furiously across the small chamber. Radomil went after him after briefly glancing at Mures’ hand; the sorcerer immediately let his ice spell dissolve. He heard the spellsword speaking quietly to his companion, though staying a good distance away from him. Aure joined him after a momentary hesitation.

‘We’re trapped?’ Rhedyn’s voice quavered noticeably.

Heart still racing from the close call, Mures rolled his eyes. ‘Yes, we’re trapped. If the spirit here is new, like Radomil guessed, it probably needs energy. It won’t let us go until we’ve fed it.’

‘But I can’t do this.’ She sounded worryingly close to tears. ‘I just - I can’t.’

‘You don’t have to.’ Like Rhedyn, Iesto had stayed out of the earlier conflict, but fortunately he didn’t appear nearly as upset. ‘Aure said she can go to the far side of the arch, and so can I. You can watch my dream if you want - there’s probably not going to be anything interesting there, but that’s okay, right? I dreamed about dancing loaves of bread last night. You don’t have to worry about it.’

That brought a shaky smile to the herbalist’s face. ‘Thanks, Iesto,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry, I just…’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ the scout repeated with a shrug. ‘It’s pretty obvious you and Herve both have good reasons for your privacy. I’m sure the other two can figure something out.’

‘I don’t think anyone wants to see what he dreams about,’ said Rhedyn, nodding in Mures’ direction, ‘but I’m not sure about Radomil. Why he doesn’t want anyone to see, I mean.’

‘No one’s sure about much with Radomil.’ Iesto chuckled. ‘If it’s really something important, I guess someone can put up with whatever’s in the sorcerer’s head for one night.’

Mures was silent. He wished there was a way to know what kind of dream he would have. While he wasn’t pleased by the possibility of someone seeing a memory-inspired nightmare about one of the times he’d been tortured, or about when he was an apprentice for a master who had been, admittedly, very unkind, the runes on the archway suggested that the visitor wouldn’t experience anything firsthand, as it were. Having someone watch him getting tortured would be humiliating, but he could live with it, and the visitor would most likely be unbothered afterwards.

His real fear was that he’d dream about something - well, good. Something that was special, like one of his favourite folktales, or the hopes for the future he’d had as an apprentice, before time and reality whittled them away into nothing. The sorcerer didn’t think he could deal with someone else knowing about those things, and probably mocking him for them.

He briefly wondered what the shrine would require if there were an odd number of people trying to pass by. The writing on the arch didn’t specify. If it came down to a choice between having someone watch whatever he might dream or killing himself, the latter option was vastly more attractive. Unfortunately, the possibility that doing so might trap one of the others as a result made it less viable.

Across the room, Herve seemed to have calmed down somewhat; he and his two companions returned to the centre of the chamber. Aure addressed the group.

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Going back to the bog isn’t an option, so we just have to do this. Obviously Herve’s going to visit somebody else’s dream.’

‘As am I,’ Rhedyn cut in. Iesto nodded to support the statement.

‘Got it. Iesto, you’re volunteering to - I guess host someone else? Great. Me too. That just leaves you two. Radomil, you can sort it out, right?’

The spellsword hesitated, but eventually gave a reluctant nod. He beckoned to Mures as the others started debating how to lay out the bedrolls.

‘If there’s any chance you can compromise on this, you should,’ he told the sorcerer quietly as they stood off to the side. His expression was deadly serious. ‘Will you?’

‘No,’ Mures replied, and felt terrible about doing so. Radomil’s quick intervention earlier had quite probably saved his life, or at least someone’s life, and he couldn’t even agree to this comparatively small request in return. Wouldn’t agree to it - he had a choice, and was just being selfish. He thought about asking the other man to hit him in an inadequate attempt at repayment, but decided against it; the renewed violence might set Herve off again.

Radomil exhaled through his teeth. ‘What if I gave you my word I’d tell no one about what I saw? And wouldn’t talk to you about it either?’

‘No. I don’t trust you that much.’ The sorcerer hated himself a little more with each word, but it was true; he liked and admired Radomil, and had no doubt he was a man of his word, but the thing about promises was that they only reliably mattered if made to another person. He couldn’t be confident Radomil saw him as that, rather than as an unfortunately necessary asset to the company that didn’t really count as human.

‘Right.’ The spellsword didn’t look offended, just solemn. ‘The thing is - this isn’t about privacy. I don’t mind you seeing it, but it’s a prophetic dream.’

That might complicate the situation, but then again, it might not. Mures knew quite a lot about such dreams; they weren’t uncommon, though in real life they could be about anything and so were usually far less important and more innocuous than the foretellings of grand destiny often featured in folktales. A prophetic dream that your second cousin’s horse would one day throw a shoe on the way to market made little difference to anything.

‘What about?’ the sorcerer asked. If it contained private information about someone else, he could certainly see why the other man wouldn’t want to share it. He didn’t know what he would do in that case.

‘The end of the world.’

‘Oh.’ Well. ‘Is it anytime soon?’

Radomil gave a short laugh. ‘I don’t know the precise timing.’

That didn’t answer the question, Mures noted. Still - ‘I don’t care what happens to the world,’ he said. ‘In fact, this is perfect. You ended up talking to the one person in the company who won’t be unduly affected by seeing your dream.’

The spellsword looked unimpressed. ‘Mures, you rescued an injured spider the other day,’ he said.

‘That was… it’s on a different scale.’ The spider was part of the world, yes, as were the rest of the few things he’d ever cared about, but the world as a whole was mostly a disappointment. ‘Look, we don’t have much choice. I give you my word I won’t try to - murder anyone out of despair, or whatever you think, for what it’s worth.’

‘That’s not what I’m worried about. I’m used to seeing it every night, but you’ve never seen it. I also don’t know if it being a prophetic dream would make any difference to how you experience it, whether you’d feel the certainty that it’s real, that it - well. It could really upset you.’

‘It’s alright,’ said Mures, once he could speak past the painful choking sensation caused by the realisation that Radomil apparently cared about how he felt. ‘Like I said, there isn’t much choice, and I’d rather risk seeing your dream than have you see one of mine.’

The spellsword gazed at him, lips pressed together, for a long moment; then he nodded grimly.

The others had already laid out their bedrolls on either side of the arch, and agreed that it was best to get the ordeal over with rather than wait and have dinner while they all grew more anxious. Mures got out his own bedroll and set it down at the edge of the chamber. Radomil passed him on his way to do the same, and paused.

‘I meant to ask - are you alright?’ He gestured at his own eye before pointing to the sorcerer’s, where Herve had punched him.

‘Fine,’ said Mures, the odd strangled feeling making an appearance again. The area around his eye was a little swollen and probably looked horrible, but it didn’t hurt too much. And luckily it was his bad eye, the one which couldn’t see much anyway, and which mainly just unnerved people.

The spellsword nodded, tugging his bedroll into place on the floor and sliding inside it. He pulled one arm back out as Mures lay down parallel to him on the other side of the arch.

‘What position do you usually sleep in?’ he asked. ‘I can probably touch your hand or shoulder or something.’

In the debacle over the shrine, Mures had forgotten the requirement of physical contact.

‘That’s fine,’ he said stiffly, lying on his side and facing away from Radomil. He felt the other man’s hand curl over his bony shoulder a moment later. It was a strange sensation, but not unpleasant; just unfamiliar.

Mures wasn’t sure whether the spirit of the shrine had some kind of soporific magic or whether his lack of rest the previous night had simply caught up with him, but he fell asleep almost at once.

*****

He stood on a plain of red dust. Angular rock formations, studded with dead trees, rose from the arid landscape around him. They cast long shadows over the ground, blocking out the horizon, but the red-orange light told Mures it was probably sunset.

It was completely silent, save for a constant wind which rattled the branches of the distant, dessicated trees. The air wasn’t as hot as Mures might have guessed based on the appearance of the place.

The scenery was like nothing he’d seen before. Drier by far than the scrubland, it would’ve been a quintessential desert had the black, twisted trees not indicated otherwise. The sorcerer knew he was dreaming - or rather, watching someone else dream - but if this was meant to be part of the real world, he had no idea what part.

Turning in a circle, he didn’t see Radomil anywhere, so he set off in the direction he’d originally been facing. There was an especially large rock formation that way, and some parts of it had collapsed to form a slope he might be able to climb. Perhaps he could use it as a vantage point from which to find the other mercenary.

No birds or lizards or even insects crossed his path. The plain seemed utterly devoid of life. He couldn’t think of it as peaceful; it was eerie, and there was something wrong with the light. After a few minutes of walking, he realised that if it was really sunset, the shadows should be lengthening much more quickly as the sun’s angle dropped the last few degrees toward the horizon.

The scale of the landscape was deceptive; he had to walk for a long while before reaching the base of the rock formation. The slope proved easy enough to climb, though, since the tumbled rocks composing it were larger and more solid than they’d looked from a distance.

About halfway up the rock formation lay a plateau. Most of it was on the opposite side of the main column from the slope, but Mures found a narrow path winding up around the side and followed it. More trees grew along the path and at the edge of the plateau. This close, he could see that they were charred as if by a forest fire, though not even their highest branches seemed to have escaped the flame.

He stepped out of the trees and onto the plateau proper, and then halted as the source of the unnatural light came into full view.

The sun was not setting; it was falling apart. Though still high above the distant horizon, it was red and less bright than it should have been, and also far larger. More than that, whatever force kept it as a sphere of fire seemed to be gone; pieces had cracked away like clay shards and now fell, immeasurably slowly, down the sky. Mures’ mind supplied the unhelpful visual simile of a shattered plate.

Radomil was already on the plateau. He stood a little ways back from the edge, gazing out at the disintegrating sun. The sorcerer slowly headed over to him.

There was still no sound apart from the quiet wind and the soft shifting of dust under Mures’ feet. The star fracturing high above was entirely noiseless despite its enormity.

Radomil turned as the sorcerer came up beside him. The dying sunlight reflected weirdly off his face; it seemed to produce more shadows than it should have, and made his normally dark eyes shine almost orange. He smiled at Mures, and the effect would’ve been disturbing had he not looked so calm and so tired.

They watched the sun break apart for a while without speaking. It was serene, in an odd way. The gentle breeze never ceased, and there appeared to be nothing alive in the wasteland apart from the two of them. Standing there with Radomil, Mures thought this dream might explain quite a lot about the spellsword.

Time passed, but not at its usual pace; whether because this was a dream or due somehow to the state of the sun, Mures didn’t know. The greater part of the shattered pieces were still floating above the horizon when he woke up.

#rhedyn and herve are just side characters but they can have a little trauma too #a mercenary’s life is tough and there are no therapists in generic-mediaeval-fantasy world #cw:violence #cw:eye injury #cw:ptsd #cw:torture #cw:suicide #cw:self hatred #cw:abuse #or references to all the above #meta whump #in a sense #medieval whump #fantasy whump #whump writing #my writing #whump

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screamingatanemptyroom · 3 years

Text

Please Fix the Story pt 21 - Sci Fi

New part is here! Hoping this makes up a bit for the heartbreak of the last part!

I have no idea how long this spurt of energy and and inspiration will last, but I'll keep writing until it runs out!

Master Post linked here

Enjoy!

____________________________

“Did you hear me?” Chris’s voice was filled with patience and warmth. “I’ll save you. I’ll be your Connector.”

I looked at him silently, knowing that I should feel relieved.

Whether my alternate memories were caused by the mental degradation, or if I was truly some sort of traveler tasked with saving this world, his offer solved all my problems. Forming a match with him would stabilize my mental condition, allowing me to fully understand what was real and what was not. It would help me become not only a true Guardian, but a powerful one that could help take on the Hive and save the world, completing my mission.

I should have felt relieved. I should have felt grateful for his generous offer.

But instead, I felt sick and wanted to run away.

“Thank you for offering this, but you have a dream, Chris. You want to be a Guardian more than anyone else.” I found myself arguing passionately, hoping he would withdraw his offer. “I can’t let you sacrifice all the work you’ve done, the trust others have placed in you. Besides, you already have a Connection with Princess Ilene...”

“Alaira.” He frowned as I finally managed to free my hand from his grasp and leaned back to put some distance between us. “None of that is as important as your wellbeing. Ilene understands that.”

“Maybe you don't have to sacrifice all that though. Maybe there’s another match out there for me…” I was grasping at straws, not even sure why I was arguing. But I knew it, felt it deep in my soul.

I didn’t want to match with Chris.

“There’s no one else. I am your only chance to be a Guardian.” The warmth was gone, his face and tone were serious. “Either you match with me, or they’ll put you on indefinite leave, and you’ll never be a Guardian again. “

WARNING! MISSION FAILURE IMMINENT!

TOTAL COMPLETION 2%

MISSION FAILURE WILL RESULT IN WORLD COLLAPSE AND DESTRUCTION OF THE SOUL. PLEASE COMPLETE THE MISSION.

“I don’t want to force you.” He reached out to smooth my hair, becoming visibly frustrated as I pulled back further, refusing to let him touch me. “I’m just trying to save you.”

“…”

“Trust me.”

____________________________

“Trust me.”

The man in front of me threw up his hands as he paced back and forth. “Everything will go a lot smoother if you STOP CHANGING THE STORY!”

“I thought that was why we were here, though?” I sighed, leaning back in my chair, adjusting the ballgown out of the way and cleaning my nails with a blade. “To fix the lower realms, to save these worlds? That requires change, right?”

He paused in his movements, glaring at me. “Stop acting stupid! These worlds are broken because they didn’t follow the rules. We know the rules. We have to follow them perfectly.”

“I don’t want to though.” I shuddered. “No offense, but if the rules are going to require us to have a romantic relationship, I’m finding a different way. There's always an alternate solution.”

“That’s what the story requires, you have your role to play. I am the hero of this world, the prince, and you are the damsel in distress. I was supposed to save you. You were supposed to fall in love with ME. Why did you have to stab the witch yourself?!"

I flipped the knife in my hand. "She was asking for it."

"You can't keep doing this. You know the consequences of not playing the right part.”

“No, there’s always different paths to take." I sighed, "You’re a good friend, and I’m glad to have you by my side, but that’s different than love.”

“…”

“You clearly don’t love me either, so why are you making such a fuss about this? As long as we complete what we came here to do, that’s all that matters, right?”

“…”

“Right?”

He stepped closer to me, his atmosphere slightly threatening. “Why are you so different from what you are supposed to be?”

“What are you…?”

“Why can’t you just ACCEPT...”

His hand grabbed my wrist, the grip painful. I raised the knife in my hand, but hesitated to stab him.

“YOUR.”

He pulled me closer until our faces were inches apart. His bright blue eyes were blazing with anger as they stared into my own. Each word burning itself into my soul.

“FATE.”

Letting me go, he walked away, putting some distance between us, before turning back to face me.

“This lower realm is stabilized. We should return.” His smile was cold. “The next mission is a little different from our previous ones. We’ll talk about it later.”

“…”

“And next time…?” He laughed, a bitter sound. “You’ll play your part whether you want to or not.”

____________________________

The memory was slow to fade, my heart still beating quickly with residual anxiety and anger. My hand tried to grasp the knife from the vision, but it closed on empty air instead.

“Alaira. Why aren’t you answering?”

I will not accept my fate.

I didn’t even know what fate I was rejecting, but I knew deep down in my soul that I had to fight.

I blinked a few times, focusing on Chris’s expectant face.

“I really appreciate you being willing to put aside your dreams to help me, but... Can you give me tonight to think about it? I’m just… I’m still really overwhelmed with all the changes that have happened.”

“…” He studied me closely before nodding with a polite smile. “Of course, Alaira. Like I said, I don’t want to force you. This will be the start of a beautiful partnership.”

Reaching out, he caught my hand again before I could pull away. He squeezed it tightly, almost painfully, before letting go and stepping back.

“The hero and the heroine… together… as it should be.” His mumbled words reached my ears and I felt sick and panicked once more.

No.

“Have a good rest, Alaira.” He closed the door behind him, and I heard the lock click into place.

I was trapped. I wanted to panic, to get up and pound at the door. To try to escape. Instead, my head started throbbing once more, and exhausted, my body pulled me back to sleep again.

____________________________

I woke up to three young women sitting next to my bed, staring at me.

I let out a startled shriek, scrambling to sit up and back away until my back hit the headboard of the bed. Looking around, I was still in Chris’s dorm room, but it now seemed much smaller and crowded with the trio who seemed intent on watching my every move.

“Hey guys, what’s up?” I waved a hand weakly, feeling scared by their intensity.

“… We wanted to see how you were feeling.” Princess Ilene was staring at me, her face unreadable.

This feels very uncomfortable.

“Why?”

The girls looked at each other at my question, before turning back to focus on me once again.

“We know what Chris offered to you.” A young lanky woman, who I recognized as my classmate Allie spoke up. Wasn’t she the one who sent me all the threatening messages in class?

“He’s willing to give up everything to save you.” Wen, the engineer who had confronted me early on, spoke solemnly, her face grim.

Ilene snorted bitterly. “Even if it means breaking up our partnership.”

“… Are you here to beat me up?” I don't think I can fight in my current condition. “Because if that’s the case, let me go ahead and say that I haven’t agreed to his proposal.” And I don’t want to. “ If you want to talk him out of it, that’s fine with me…”

“Are you stupid?” Ilene interrupted, rolling her eyes. “You should be grateful that someone as wonderful and caring as Chris is willing to sacrifice his dreams to save you. And you want to waste that?”

Allie chimed in. “Yeah. We may not agree with him becoming your Connector, but we all care about him, and if you’re that important to him… then we need to respect that.”

Glancing around the room, I shuddered at the intensity of the atmosphere. “You all care about him… romantically?”

“Yes.”

“Yep.”

“Of course!”

The girls answered in unison.

“And he cares about you all the same way?”

“…” There was an awkward silence, before the petite engineer spoke up.

“We are important to him, obviously. But now isn’t the right time for him to get involved in romance. He’s pursuing his dream of being a Guardian. One day things will settle down, and we’ll know which one of us is in his heart.” She smiled at me. “I’m sure you understand. You’re the same way, after all.”

“I’m the what now?”

“You’re in love with Chris.”

Umm, No.

“Sorry, there’s been a misunderstanding.” I rubbed my forehead as I tried to explain. To be fair, ALAIRA had been in love with Chris. But me? Not so much.

“I… respect him. “ It wasn’t completely a lie. I did respect his ability to completely ignore reality and charge forward without any doubt his actions were right. “But I’m not in love with the guy.”

Allie patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’re in a safe place. You can admit your feelings here. We all love Chris. Even if he’s too busy becoming the strongest Guardian ever to return our affections.”

Have I… accidentally been admitted in the male lead’s harem? I sighed, wishing I could bang my head against a wall. Someone SAVE ME!

“We just wanted you to know that we will support you and Chris becoming partners.” Wen smiled, standing up, preparing to leave.

“You really don’t have to…”

Allie stood up as well. “I’m just glad you’ve come around and want to work WITH Christ instead of trying to embarrass him…”

“I really don’t…”

“And you better appreciate what Chris is willing to give up for you.” Ilene still looked angry. “He’s too good for you.”

“I don’t want…”

“We’ll be cheering for you at your next match with Chris” Wen pulled Ilene to her feet. “Don’t let him down.”

I was getting REALLY sick and tired of not being allowed to finish a sentence. “I AM not going to be his partner!!!”

WARNING! MISSION FAILURE IMMINENT!

TOTAL COMPLETION 1%

MISSION FAILURE WILL RESULT IN WORLD COLLAPSE AND DESTRUCTION OF THE SOUL. PLEASE COMPLETE THE MISSION.

The girls ignored my words, leaving with smiles and waves. Frustrated, confused, I slammed my fists against the bed, screaming. The bright blue words warning me of my upcoming demise slowly faded from the world, as if they were never there.

SCREW THIS! End of the world… destruction of the soul… I DON’T CARE! I am not going to be forced into matching with Chris. He gives me the creeps. I’d rather have my mind splinter than let him into it.

Feeling a strange mix of recklessness and calm, I sat up in the bed, taking a deep breath and staring at the clock in the wall.

Just a few more hours, and everybody should be asleep. And then…

I leaned over, picking up a small hairpin that dropped on the floor from Ilene’s head when she stood up.

I make my escape.

____________________________

Time passed slowly. I felt as if each hour was taking a century to pass, sitting in Chris’s room, not knowing if he would come back. Not sure if the blue words would pop up again, announcing that I had failed my mission, that my soul would be destroyed. I was having trouble focusing, my thoughts tangling together inside my head, difficult to separate out. I took slow, deep breaths, trying to sort out what I knew.

I don’t want to match with Chris.

I knew that for a fact.

I don’t have a better plan to save my mental state, or complete my mission.

Also fact.

I might die.

The facts were really depressing, actually. Just looking at it like this, it still seemed as if my best option would be to agree to Chris’s proposal.

____________________________

"We know the rules. We have to follow them perfectly.”

____________________________

The man's words from my memory echoed in my head, but I ignored them.

Like the me in those memories said... There's always an alternate solution.

I won’t match Chris.

It wasn’t rational or smart. But I couldn’t give in.

So, if I don’t have a better plan, why bother to escape?

I leaned back against the headboard of the bed, trying to come up with a single goal after leaving this place. It didn’t take long, as a familiar face came to mind.

Liam. I want to find Liam.

It didn’t make sense. It wouldn’t help my mission, as he couldn’t form a connection. We didn’t even know each other that well, only spent a few hours in each other’s company. But deep down inside me, the only thing I wanted to do was see him again. He was the only person I trusted.

Chris said he returned home, though.

Hopefully he was lying. And if he wasn’t… well, then I would just have to search for him then.

The clock chimed. It was midnight, and almost everyone should be asleep. Getting to my feet, I took a moment to steady myself, ignoring the searing headache and lightheadedness that had gotten worse the more awake I was.

It must be the mental degradation. Who knows how much time I have left?

I moved quietly towards the door, studying the lock. Alaira had been a good student, spending all her time studying military tactics and Mech technology. She had no idea how to pick a lock.

____________________________

I was an assassin, crouching in front of a door, easily forcing it open within a few seconds.

“Amateurs.” I whispered to myself with a grin. “Thinking you could keep me out.”

____________________________

The memory faded, but my hands were already moving, inserting the hairpin I had found into the lock and rearranging the tumblers inside. As I felt the last one slide into place, there was a loud clicking noise, and the door swung open.

“I’m not Alaira.” I whispered. “These memories aren’t hallucinations.”

Which was probably not a good thing, given that I was about to fail my mission, and have my soul destroyed. But I was still happy.

I am not Alaira.

I crept down the main hallway of the men’s dormitory, having to hide a few times to dodge security guards. The throbbing of my shoulder served as a steady reminder to keep close track of my surroundings.

“Report.”

Just as I was entering a entrance hallway to the dormitory, someone called out. At the sound of the voice, I ducked under a table, hiding myself in the shadows, glad I was wearing my dark uniform still.

“Everything has been quiet, sir.” A security guard stepped into my vision, looking nervous.

“You’re certain?” The voice was quiet, but was still easily recognizable as the one I wanted to hear the least right now:

Chris? What’s he doing up at this hour.

“Yes, sir. There’s been no movement around the dorms tonight.”

“Good.” Chris stepped into view, his polite façade gone, in its place a grim, ruthless man. “As I’ve said before, Guardian Alaira is deep into mental degradation, and is a danger to herself and others. I've kept her here solely for the purpose of her safety, but she can’t understand that in her current state, and may try to escape.”

“Are you sure…?” The guard seemed nervous.

“Do YOU want to be responsible for General Gladus’ only child being harmed?”

He straightened up, shaking his head back and forth vigorously. “No! No of course not!”

“Then do what you are told. And remember, Prince William…”

Liam? I leaned in, interested.

“…whereabouts are unknown, so keep an eye out.” He sighed. “He was supposed to go home after receiving that written summons. But he hung around instead, and has been trying to see her.”

“Why can’t they…?”

“He’s the reason she has refused to match. As a Connector without the ability to make the connection, he hopes to keep her like him, not caring that her mind is almost completely broken. “ Chris held out his hands helplessly. “Even if he’s a prince, we can’t let him do this. Not to General Gladus’ family, right?”

Liam didn’t go home?! He’s nearby! I felt excited, almost not hearing the next part of the conversation. The sound of my name dragged back my attention.

“Alaira and I will be forming the Connection tomorrow. So we just have to keep an eye out until then.”

“She has agreed?”

“She will.” He smiled, the expression terrifying in the shadows. “She has to.” He moved off to the side, his boots only a few feet from my face, picking up something from the table above me.

“Or she’ll fail the mission, and her soul will be destroyed.”

He whispered the last sentence, but it struck me like a bolt of lightning.

HOW DOES HE KNOW ABOUT THE MISSION?! ABOUT THE WARNING? I clapped my hands to my mouth, preventing a sound from leaking out as my frenzied brain tried to make sense of this new information. Is he a traveler too?

Does he know who I really am?

“Well, congratulations on a successful match, then.” The guard responded cheerfully, unaware of the grim threat lurking behind Chris’ words.

The two separated, leaving me frozen, still hiding underneath the table.

Who is Chris, who am I? I clutched at my head, the throbbing pain worsening. I don’t have time to figure this out!

I started moving forward, ignoring my growing panic and confusion. Ignoring the agony of my mind falling apart.

I was going to find Liam.

I crept along the side of the room, making it to the front door of the dormitory.

What if there are guards on the other side?

I pushed away the panicked thought, and mentally prepared to fight my way out.

I’ve already gotten this far. I won’t give up now!

With that, I took a deep breath, and pushed open the door, rushing out, ready to start swinging.

I ran straight into a firm chest.

Fight!

I cocked a fist, swinging it towards the man’s face, when I head a single word.

“Alaira?”

I froze, looking up into familiar dark blue eyes. “Liam? What are you doing here?”

“Trying to rescue you! What are you doing here?”

“Escaping.”

“Awesome!” He grabbed my hand, pulling me along. “Let’s escape together!”

We ran away.

____________________________

Quickly moving through the different winding hallways, I lost track of where we were going. The doors flew past us, the soft glow of the emergency lighting a blue blur. All I could see was Liam’s back in front of me.

And I feel a whole lot safer than I ever did sitting in that quiet dorm room.

Finally, Liam pulled me into a classroom, dragging over a chair for me to sit on. Once I sat down, he brought a desk over, opening up a backpack and setting a thermos and a container down next to me.

Opening the container and thermos, I shook my head “How on earth did you manage to bring along hot tea and sandwiches to a rescue attempt?”

“I was worried that you might not have been eating properly.” He muttered.

A brief flash of a smiling man peeling an apple by a campfire filled my mind. “Support spouse?” The muttered words came unbidden to my lips, and I rubbed my temples.

Liam blushed, “What did you call me?”

“Nothing, sorry. My mind is having trouble keeping things straight right now.”

“The mental degradation?” He reached out, his hand pausing in the air before dropping back by his side. “How are you doing?”

I took a sip from the thermos, realizing from the empty feeling in my stomach that I hadn’t eaten anything in the whole time I had been trapped in Chris’s dorm room. “Honestly… I don’t know. Things are getting jumbled… I’m having trouble figuring out what’s real and what isn’t.”

“It’s already that far along?” Liam’s face was full of concern. “And there’s still no high enough match for you to make a connection and reverse the process?”

Chris’s offer crossed my mind, but I shook my head. “No.”

“…Alaira.” He spoke my name quietly. “ What about Chris? “

“…”

“I don’t know what’s going on. All I know is that you disappeared from the infirmary last night, and all of a sudden I received a communication telling me to return home immediately. When I tried to track you down to check on you first, I couldn’t find you. Finally I narrowed it down to the Chris’s dormitory, but he had the place locked down like a fortress.”

Liam sat down next to me, staring down at his hands. “I heard that he has a high enough resonance match with you to make the connection, but he’s always refused in the past.” He glanced up at me. “But that’s not the case anymore, is it?”

“…I don’t want him in my head.”

“Even if it means your mind degrading further?”

I thought over the mission warning. “Even if my soul were going to be destroyed. I won't match him. It would be worse than death.”

“…okay.”

Shocked, I stared over at him. His face was serious, his eyes concerned as his gaze met mine. “Really? That simple?”

“I won’t force you to let that person into your mind. If it’s against your will, my attempt to save you could destroy you.” He broke the eye contact. “I just wish more than anything that I could make the Connection.” His voice cracked on the last word. “I’m useless.”

____________________________

“I’m useless.” The man in front of me, usually confident and smiling, was broken, his hands clutching tightly onto my own.

“Don’t say that.” I was breaking down, barely able to lift my head to look at him.

“It’s true. Something has changed... the world has changed. This place is rejecting you. My blood doesn’t work anymore. You’re going to be forced to leave, to go back to… “ He held his face in his hands. “And I can’t stop it.”

“Hey, lean closer.” I whispered, a small grin on my face despite the pain that wracked my body.

He leaned in, his dark blue eyes curious.

I grabbed the front of his shirt, pulled him in closer, and kissed him.

____________________________

I blinked, the memory still gripping me tightly, and realized that something was very wrong:

I was still kissing someone.

I was kissing Liam.

My hand gripped the front of his uniform tightly, the fabric wrinkled in my grasp. My other rested on his shoulder, feeling his trembling beneath my hand. His own hands braced against the chair and desk, keeping him from falling down where I had already obviously pulled him out of his seat. Our lips pressed together tightly, a comfortable warm feeling.

Did… I just jump Liam while in the grip of a memory?

…Also, I should probably stop, right?

I slowly released him, embarrassed as he sat back in his chair with a loud thump, his eyes wide with surprise and his face red.

“I … I’m sorry, I was confused…I didn’t mean…” I stuttered, wondering how to explain.

“I felt that.”

“I’ve been getting flashes of memories, and I’m not sure what they mean, or what’s real…”

“Alaira.”

“I shouldn’t have grabbed you, and… done that. I’m sorr…”

“ALAIRA.” Liam’s uncharacteristically loud voice startled me into silence. I stared at him warily, unsure if he was mad or not.

His hand grabbed my own, shocking me. “I felt that.”

“I don’t…”

“I felt it… without the barrier.” Liam was still blushing, but his eyes were filled with an excited light instead of the defeated expression that had been there before.

“You did?”

“Yeah… um…” He swallowed uncomfortably, glancing at me before looking away. “Can we do that again?”

“…”

Seeing my strange expression, he waved his hands frantically. “Not to take advantage of you or anything! I mean I can try to match you if my barrier is down, and that’s the only way…”

I raised an eyebrow. “So you’re saying you don’t want to kiss me? You just want to see if we’re a high enough resonance match to form a connection?”

He hesitated, and then covered his face. “No. I want to kiss you again too.”

“Good.” I moved closer this time and leaned in with a smile. “Me too.”

We kissed again.

This time, beyond the warmth of the physical connection, I felt an electric pulse between us, a surge of power that was foreign to myself, but all too familiar at the same time.

We must be higher than a 50% match! Enough to stop the mental degradation!

Before I could break away to tell Liam, I felt his hand gently slide around the back of my head, his fingers tangling into my hair. The kiss deepened, becoming more passionate. The power exchange between us grew exponentially, the tangling of Alpha and delta waves binding our souls together.

He’s making the Connection. I responded fully, throwing all my power into it. Immediately my headache lessened, the vague sense of uncertainty that had been haunting me faded away.

After what seemed like an eternity, we broke apart, catching our breath. My heartbeat was frantic in my ears as I stared at Liam. I could feel him still, inside my self, tangled with my mind and spirit, a constant presence within me.

This is more than a simple Connection.

Liam nodded, looking overwhelmed. “I’m not sure exactly what happened… I think we might be a really high resonance match.”

“Why…” I paused, trying to sort out my thoughts. “Why does it feel like we’ve always had this connection… we’re just getting it back now?”

“Maybe we did in another life. ” he grinned, his face still red. “I felt tied to you the moment I met you.”

I sighed, resting my head against his shoulder. “Same.”

There was a comfortable silence, as we sat in the dark classroom, the tea in the thermos in front of us long gone cold. Finally I spoke up, refusing to move from my position of leaning on him.

“What now?”

He thought it over. “I guess we tell everyone we formed the Connection, and that you don’t need to be suspended anymore.”

“And after that?”

“Not sure.”

There is still the mission, I guess. “How about we save the world?”

His arm tightened around me. “If it will make you happy, anything.”

We waited out the night, together.

#writing #please fix the story #sci-fi #lost memories #more background #liam is here #Some sweetness to offset the bitterness of the last part #world hopping

165 notes · View notes

stickyy · 3 years

Note

if it's not too much of a hassle,you can write about hawks with a SugarBaby (reader) because he's like a SugarDaddy BUUUT Instead of being the one who dominates,¿is the reader who does it? hawks only gives her money and gifts as payment for a little of your attention,hawks pays the reader to dominate it and pay for his company,if you step on his crotch he will surely thank you (femdom and ¿mommy kink?). I was thinking a lot about this dynamic and I found it VERY interesting,¿what do you think?.

warnings: sub!hawks degradation, findom, femdom, mommy!kink, cock stepping, spit kink, an instance of face slapping, hawks is a little bitch simp with a fat wallet, reader is kind of a bad bitch ngl

wordcount: 2340

notes: anon this is IT this is what im mf talking ABOUT!!!

PERFORMANCE

Keigo all about spectacle. Chaotic destruction in the pursuit of a villain, the dramatics of combat, blinding camera flashes, cacophonies of squealing fangirls, the sheer wealth that comes with the exclusivity of the top 10- he’s no stranger to the limelight. Popular for a reason, he’s young and powerful, deceivingly coy despite it all, and it drives the public wild. He has them in the palm of his hand. A playboy poster child, spectacle is his middle name, and he wears it well.

He gives you a different performance behind closed doors.

You’re working, finishing an uneventful shift at your dreadfully mundane day job. You’ve been counting down the hours, which, ironically, causes time to slow down. Scrolling through your social media feed, you just want to pass the time. You’re skimming an article about music when your phone vibrates in your hand.

‘heyyyy :)’

A grin spreads across your face. The number is unlisted, which is exactly why you know who it is. Excitement bubbles in your chest, the monotony of the day suddenly shattered. Keigo must be in town; he knows not to contact you unless he has something to show.

You check to make sure your read receipts are enabled, before staring at the message on the screen, not bothering to type a response. It’s a waiting game; you want him to work for it, to put on a show only for you.

Two whole minutes pass before you receive another.

‘i’m back in town tonight! :D’

You make no move, not yet appeased. It takes five minutes for him to cave:

‘can i see you?’

‘i need to see you’

‘missed you so much, mommy’

‘let me take you out to dinner? please?’

The prospect of a nice dinner outshines the takeout you were planning to order. A quick google search gives you a few options, and you decide on a steakhouse. They have wagyu, which you’ve been dying to try. Of course, coming in at $120 a steak, you hadn’t gotten a chance to yet.

You send him the link, along with a short message:

‘8 pm, wear something nice.’

He instantly responds with a ‘thank you mommy :)’. You can’t help the the giggle that comes out of your mouth.

Keigo takes you back to his place after dinner. You make a point to keep your red-bottomed heels on, the click-click of your stride setting the tone for the night. He slips into his role easily, taking your coat and purse (both gifts from him; $1,790 and $2,850, respectively) to hang up. You take your place on the plush couch in his living room, legs crossed as you lean back, thoroughly satisfied from your meal. You never pay, of course- you don’t even go out of your way to acknowledge the check, but you were able to sneak a peek at the tab, which came in at a whopping $459.85. You didn’t think that two people could spend so much on a meal, but Keigo always found a way to spoil you.

He comes back into the room with a bottle of wine that you had requested last time you saw him (1990 Château Haut Brion, $875; even you had to admit that was ridiculous), handing you a wine glass and pouring your drink. He moves to fill his own, but you stop him.

“I didn’t say that you were allowed to drink tonight,” it’s a casual statement, but your pleasure ignites at the slightly dejected look on his face as he closes the bottle. It’s such a contrast to how you see him in the press. He never stops performing, you know, but this act is different. His fans see his chest puffed and wings flared, you get to see him on a leash.

“Why don’t you come sit next to Mommy?” you offer, Keigo perks up, meeting your gaze as he moves to take a seat next to you on the couch.

“The floor,” you correct before he can do otherwise. His breath hitches and he hesitates for a moment, but he kneels next to you anyways. He’s so pretty beneath you. It minimizes him, his usually proud aura squandered from your elevated point of view. It doesn’t help that he loves it- loves slipping into his role of being lesser. It excites him, and that, in turn, spurs you on. You thread your free hand through his hair and he visibly relaxes, pressing into your palm as his wings unfold slightly. The two of you stay like that for the moment as you sip on your wine, the luxury made so much sweeter by the hero in your company.

“Did you miss me?” you break the silence with your question, tilting his head up toward you to make eye contact. He nods enthusiastically, subconsciously scooting closer to you.

“Yeah,” his voice is saccharine, gaze full of adoration, “couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Of course, you sick freak. You’re supposed to be off saving the world, and you’re thinking about the girl who won’t even fuck you if you don’t pay up first,” you tug on his hair roughly, causing him to hiss in pain. A grin graces his features despite the abuse.

“You know I can’t help it, you drive me crazy.”

He shifts, and you can see the outline of a bulge in his pants.

“You’re fucking kidding,” you scoff, “all I’ve done is play with your hair and you’re already hard?”

He’s so easy to fluster when he’s like this, willing and pliant in your hands. He nods again, always so unashamed in his perversion.

“I didn’t touch myself at all, like you told me to, and it’s been so long,” his eyes plead with you, slightly rocking his hips for any kind of relief. He wasn’t allowed to jerk off so long as he was seeing you.

“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re easy for it, baby. All it takes is a little affection to get you to empty your wallet. Pathetic, don’t you think?”

He whines quietly, pupils visibly dilating . “Yeah, I’m pathetic, just a slut for Mommy.”

With a hum, you set your glass down and uncross your legs. “Unzip your pants.”

He obeys, getting the zipper stuck twice in his haste. Cute.

You press the flat of your heel against the tent in his boxers. The moan he lets out is sinful, grinding up against you in search of any sign of relief.

“These heels are so nice, aren’t they? Probably one of my favorite gifts,” you reminisce, admiring the way the shiny leather contrasts against his skin. You can already see a wet spot forming on his boxers. “Do you remember how much they cost you?”

He’s lost in the sensation, too preoccupied to answer your question. You step down slowly, watching his face contort into one of pain, though the grinding doesn’t cease.

“Answer me, Keigo.”

“F-fuck, what was it, like $700?” his voice cracks, his breathing labored.

“Close enough. Aren’t you embarrassed, spending all that money on shoes just so you can rut against them?” your words send a shudder through his body. The act is starting to fade as he nears his orgasm, his playful exterior melting into one of desperation.

“I’m close, fuck I’m close,” Keigo almost sounds panicked, his hips desperately bucking in pursuit of his first release in a long time. You remove your heel abruptly, pouting at him. He lets out a pitiful gasp as the loss of sensation, a sob making its way out of his throat.

“You know what you have to do if you want to cum,” you say sternly, feigning disappointment. He jumps up, stumbling across the room for his jacket and reaching for his phone in the pocket. You notice his hands are shaking as he taps his screen a few times, before your phone chimes in its place next to you. You look over, and grin at the Cash App notification.

‘birdbrains🐤 sent you $1,430 for i love you mommy <3’.

“Holy shit, Kei, you’re that desperate to cum? If I didn’t know otherwise, I’d assume you can’t get anyone else to fuck you,” You’ve always made his pay before he touches you, but he’s never broken a grand for just an orgasm.

“Please, Mommy,” is all he gives. He’s already back at your feet.

You spread your legs, unable to contain your arousal at this point; seeing the winged hero so broken always sets a fire in your stomach. “Make Mommy feel good, and I’ll let you stuff that needy cock inside of me.”

You don’t have to tell him twice. He’s immediately between your legs, pulling your lacy panties to the side (one half of a custom made designer set, $650) and shoving his face between your thighs. He always eats you like his life depends on it, obscenely slurping on your gushing entrance. He’s good at it too, expert tongue on your clit, pushing two fingers inside and prodding at your velveteen insides, causing you to bury your hands in his hair to keep him in place. You moan loudly, not bothering to hold back your noises. This is always about your pleasure, and you make sure to remind him of that first and foremost. It’s not necessary, though; you're convinced that he’d go bankrupt if it meant he could have even an hour of your time. You can do anything to him, say anything to him, and it only drives him crazier.

To prove your point, you squeeze your thighs against his head, effectively suffocating him. He doesn’t let up- if anything, he begins to lick and suckle more enthusiastically, hands gripping your thighs tightly. You keep him there for a solid minute, watching him struggle in your grip. It’s enough to push you over the edge, and you shout as you grind against his face, riding out your first orgasm of the night. You let up, spreading your legs again and he gasps for air, tears flowing freely as he catches his breath.

“Thank you Mommy, thankyouthankyouthankyou,” he huffs between gasps, face glistening with your juices. You grab his chin and lean down to give him a kiss, feeling him melt into you as he lets out a little moan. The taste of your arousal on his lips causes you to shiver in pure euphoria. You pull back but keep his chin in your hand, coaxing his mouth open before you spit, tilting his head back and watching your saliva slide down his throat.

“Good boy,” he perks at the praise, smiling despite himself.

“Go ahead and strip for me, and I’ll let you have that orgasm you want so bad,” you say as you stand, peeling yourself out of your dress. He obeys, albeit slowly as he’s more distracted watching you strip in front of him, eyes tracing your curves as you undo your bra and slide your panties down, opting to keep on the heels. You notice, but decide to let it slide this time. You gesture for him to sit and he obeys, grabbing your hips as you straddle his lap. His cock curves against his stomach, an angry red and damp with the obscene amount of pre dripping down his length.

“This looks like it hurts,” you lilt mockingly, gently running a finger up his length to gather some of his pre. You smear it on his lower lip, raw from your earlier abuse.

“It does, fuck- Mommy, please,” he’s back to begging, eyes misty, “Please let me fuck you Mommy, I promise I’ll make you cum again, I’ll make you cum as many times as you want-”

“Shh,” you stop his babbling, positioning yourself over him, “keep your hips still for me, okay?”

He nods, and you begin to sink onto his length, slowly.

He moans, eyelids fluttering as your gummy walls begin to constrict around his length. He struggles to keep himself from squeezing your hips and fucking up into you, but he manages in fear of a punishment. You take your sweet time before bottoming out, staying completely still. Keigo chokes on a sob, thighs quivering with the effort to stay put, and you watch him for just a moment longer, revelling in the sight. He’s flushed down to his chest, eyes lidded and pupils blown, skin dewy with sweat and tears and your slick, wings fluttering behind him.

If only his fans could see him now.

You take pity on him and start to move, allowing him to take your weight in his hands, bouncing you on his cock. It takes a lot of focus not to get lost in the sensation, squelching noises filling the empty air as your mind starts to blur, his cock rubbing against the spongy walls of your pussy. He’s nothing if not enthusiastic, moaning unabashedly, eyes trained on your face. He’s already close, but there’s a determination in his eyes that confuses you slightly; he has permission to cum after all. It’s when the blunt head of his cock hits something gooey inside of you that it makes sense; of course he’s making good on his promise to make you cum first. He’s a good boy, after all. It doesn’t take long, his hips jackrabbiting as he abuses that spot in you, forcing the pressure in your stomach to pull taut, and eventually snap. You cum with a squeal of his name, vision darkening as you watch him finish, stray tears flowing down his cheeks. You catch a few with your thumb and lick them up.

“What do you say?”

“Thank you, Mommy,” he’s breathless, but you can tell he’s not totally satisfied; it’s been weeks since he’s seen you, after all. He begins to roll his hips again, face scrunching in the sweet torture of overstimulation.

You land a firm slap on his cheek and he gasps, giving you a surprised look.

“You know what you have to do if you want another orgasm.”

The show goes on.

387 notes · View notes

burnedbyshoto · 4 years

Text

(i won’t say) i’m in love

― Bakugou’s feelings for you are true, but he can’t seem to utter those three words no matter how much he wishes to. ―

pt 2

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pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

warnings: fluff, angst, cursing, alcohol mention, bakugou katsuki is bad at feelings

word count: 6,625

a/n: this was supposed to come out yesterday but I sort of got lazy and didn’t want to edit. anyways, I hope you enjoy, stories like this one are always fun to write and if you’re the anon who requested that bakugou thing like... a week ago, this was inspired by you.

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The first time that Bakugou really noticed you was during the final year at Yuuei.

Three years of vigorous and intensive academic and heroic work at the esteemed high school had led him to this very moment. While Bakugou was not the intensive hothead he once was when he was sixteen, he was definitely still hotheaded at the prime age of eighteen. With the end of the school year approaching, heavily enforced by the fact that a crowd of third-year middle schoolers had just left campus with hopeful and tired expressions on their face, he was grumbling while making his way back to his classroom.

For the practical part of their final, they were paired off to handle some insane over the top final as always. If Bakugou knew any better, he would be paired off with someone lame like Mineta or some shit. How he missed the days the teachers thought him and that damn nerd couldn’t get along enough to pass tests together… they had been paired up so often that first year - on top of finally establishing proper respect and an unadmitted friendship - it had led them to become an unbeatable force.

While Bakugou climbed the stairs after his loudly chattering classmates, he was sunk in his thoughts about who he would be with. Bakugou was versatile, and while he was often a pain to work with, he worked well with just about anyone. ‘Who hasn’t he worked with yet?’ he thought, his fingers fisted in his pockets while they gathered onto the floor where their classroom was located.

“MINA AGAIN?!” was the first noise to break through the aimless chatter to hold truth and knowledge.

Bakugou looked at Kaminari and Mina, who were both holding each other and crying.

Every single final, they had been paired up together, each time facing off the principal to be utterly demolished. Bakugou snickered at the thought of them failing the practical final for the nth time again.

“Looks like I’m with Todoroki!” Kirishima pointed out, his hand waving at the half and half bastard who was also seeking him out.

They had three weeks until final exams took place, and the fact that they were announcing the teams this early definitely sat the slightest bit uneasy with Bakugou. And with his attention back onto the role list, Bakugou found himself praying that Deku’s name was next to his. If there’s anyone left who wouldn’t hold him back, it would be him.

“Bakugou!” a voice yelled, and Bakugou looked away from the list to see you walking over with a wave of your hand. “We’re paired up!”

Just like that, Bakugou realized that during his three years here, he had never once been paired up with you, and his lips turned into a frown. Interesting.

“You’re not busy right now?” he didn’t even wait for you to confirm his thoughts, “Let’s go, the TDL should be free right now.” Bakugou practically commanded, uncaring that you were definitely not in clothes to be doing anything physically demanding.

“I needa change! I’ll meet you there in ten minutes!” was your unaffected response and Bakugou’s eyes narrowed when Kirishima jabbed him in the ribs, his eyes telling him to play nice.

“Tch. Fine, just don’t take forever.”

By the time you had returned to the TDL, Bakugou was still warming up, his hoodie pulled up to help his cold ears while he stretched.

“I don’t think we’ve ever been paired up or teamed up before!” you called out while stretching your arms above your head. “You think they kept us apart for so long for that very reason?”

“Like hell I would know,” Bakugou grumbled, refusing to look at you while you finished up your warm-up routine, by the looks of it you had run from the dorm here; that was a good enough warm-up. “I don’t know what kind of crap they’re going to try and pull on us at this exam, but I want you to let you know that you better not fuck this up,” he stood up, his hands rotating in circles, relieving the built tension in his wrists while he stared at you for the first time. His calm gaze meeting your strong one. “I plan on walking out of here with a perfect score.”

A smile spread on your face while you nodded, “I plan on it, too.”

Pleased with your response, Bakugou’s lips quirked into a smirk, his stance lowering immediately, and he watched while you readied yourself.

“Ready?”

“Come at me.”

Bakugou sat on the floor, his eyes wide with his shock and personal embarrassment.

The practical final exam had been a fear-induced, villain crawling, pro hero gone bad filled nightmare. A test designed with the help of Support Course students and a teacher who generated physical and real items based on whatever she thought had caused a most horrendous scene for Bakugou and you. It was then that Bakugou realized why both of you had been paired up - your fears were one and the same.

Failure, rejection, not being enough.

While both of you had been so good in the beginning, powering through every obstacle at alarming power and speed, there had been a hitch in the road right before the finish line. When a ‘villain’ took on the form of All Might and blamed him for this downfall that society knew. He had thought he was long past breaking over that, he believed that it was something he had healed over two years ago. This faux All Might carried himself just like the retired hero, changing between his big form and the small one, his words and accusations dropping like boulders on him with every broken whisper that passed his lips. Unlike you, Bakugou wasn’t able to fight this terror, wasn’t able to beat the thing that still tripped him up.

The loud ringing in his ear wouldn’t quit while he fell down, his breathing short and scattered. He couldn’t hear your screams while you were battling your own opponents while All Might drew closer to him.

His fault, this was all his fault.

But a bright light exploded across the room, and Bakugou eyes felt heavy while you threw him onto your back and took off. His last exam ever, and just like his first one, it finished with him being carried across the finish line, but where the first one still felt like a victory, this felt like a complete failure.

“Bakugou!” you exclaimed, your hands finding his pale, clammy cheeks in your hands while the victory tune carried lightly in the background. “Bakugou, can you hear me?!”

Of course, he could hear you, he wanted to snap as his body instinctively wished to push off his insecurity with anger. But his tongue was too heavy in his mouth, his eyes merely focusing onto your terrified face. You had taken a blast in the face earlier, and the bruising swollen lip you had was an indicator of the failure you came across.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay!” you reassured, your smile spreading wider, brighter on your face, your calloused fingers rubbing softly against his face. “You’re okay! It was fake, remember!”

“It wasn’t fake, though,” Bakugou heaved, his fingers trembling with his grief and suffocating anger while he shoved your hands from his face. “It wasn’t fake. I’m the reason fucking All Might is gone, why the world fell into chaos! You were there that day, weren’t you? The day I was taken from the fucking forest.”

Your eyes widened from the statement, but Bakugou couldn’t blame you for that. No one but Deku, Aizawa, and All Might knew about these feelings. Still, the emotions that sat heavily on his throat seemed to pierce themself further into his throat while you very obviously thought about the circumstances of that fateful night three years ago.

“How was it your fault you were taken?” you asked, your head tilted, arms folded across your chest.

Bakugou’s eyes widened, not at all expecting you to care or even try to calm him down. There was no point for you to either; it wasn’t as if you two were close after all.

“I was a fucking dick back then,” Bakugou grumbled, his head turning to the side his gaze refusing to look at you. No one had ever questioned his thoughts on this statement, everyone had always left it at that.

“You’re still a fucking dick,” you half teased half spoke truthfully, and your body sank to the floor, sitting before him with a tilted curious head. “A lot of people are dicks, but that doesn’t mean dicks are targeted by villains. I mean look at Endeavor, he was sort of a flaming dick back in the day, but he’s a hero.”

“But it’s different, I was barbaric to the point where they tied me up during the sports festival,” Bakugou reasoned, his gaze turning back to you, and was slightly shocked (not that he would show it) to see annoyance in your eyes.

“Yeah, and that was total bullshit of them to do!” you exclaimed, pushing a hand onto his grenade gauntlet. “There was no reason for them to do that for you, you didn’t think you won, and they should have just let you be. Giving you a medal like that was completely idiotic of them. Should you have behaved like that? No, you shouldn’t; it was childish and dumb of you, but they’re also the adults… they should have known better before strapping you up like a rabid dog in front of the world.”

“Wha-?”

“I get that we’re not… close friends Bakugou, but if you think that the League capturing you in an attempt to make you cross sides was your fault, which would lead to Kamino… I mean, it did lead to All Might losing his ability to use his quirk and all, but this has nothing to do with you,” you affirmed, your eyes deadly serious but with a type of kindness that Bakugou wasn’t used to. “You were trying to make a name for yourself in this competitive field, and you did! I mean… don’t let this inflate your ego anymore than it already is-”

“Hah?!”

“-But you’re someone to fear. You’re strong and capable, and from everyone who was shown in that sports festival, you were definitely the one to watch. But it was the adults who fucked up that day, they’re the ones who ultimately set the scene in painting you like a deranged loose canon - which you are at times, but you’re not evil. The League thought you were that way, and I’m sure there is no doubt in All Mights eyes about what he did for you. You were someone who needed to be saved, and All Might is the world’s number one hero for a reason: self-sacrifice. It could have been you, me, or even the grouchy pork bun lady down the street - he would have given it all to save. Don’t even get me started on the fact that Japan became too comfortable with All Might and held him to the status of a god and not a human that he is… so… yeah, I’m not good with this kind of stuff, but I want you to know that this isn’t your fault. You’re in the story as to why he lost his ability to use his quirk, but All Might’s will carries on in all of us, especially in you, so unless you give up, he’ll never truly be defeated.”

It was at this moment that Bakugou finally saw you.

The way that you had been exceedingly kind and ever so gentle with him. Your words rang heavily in his ears, and a heavyweight felt freed from his shoulders the more he digested your words. He wasn’t sure when your hand began to hold his, but while he looked down at his gloved hand, he let out a shaky breath at the sight of your hand in his.

“You’re pretty amazing, Bakugou, please don’t forget that,” you smiled, nothing but sincere truth on your tongue, and finally standing up, you looked down at him. “Well, it’s time to see how we fared, yeah?”

But there was something different in the way that his hands sweated. He knew that his hands were always perspiring. There was a normalcy to the nitroglycerine sweat that his hands emitted without a single thought, but the tightness to his stomach and the way that the sweat poured nervously from his palms made him realize that no, this was different. But what exactly? His stomach flipped at the still and happy appearance on your face, and a shadow of realization flooded through him… oh no… he knew why, but he knew he shouldn’t believe it.

He couldn’t.

With a sigh, he pushed off the floor, standing beside you, a smirk daring to pull at his lips at the way that your eyes traveled up in your surprise to his height and closeness.

“Let’s go.”

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“Watch where you’re fucking running, dunce face!”

“I was watching!”

Bakugou’s head snapped over to your giggling face while you lay on your own towel a few paces away from him. Today was Mina’s birthday, and instead of going to a restaurant for a birthday celebration like any average person, she had decided she needed to tan. How someone who was pink could tan was beyond Bakugou, but while he had no intention of hanging out with his old classmates on his day off, Kirishima had asked him to go for him. That wasn’t enough, so when Kirishima had included that you were apart of the group that was going, Bakugou considered it for about ten minutes before finally agreeing - but he would never say it was because of you.

So here he was practically babysitting a bunch of nineteen-year-olds while he lounged under the sun’s hot rays. He needed to get rid of the funky tan lines on his body.

“What are you laughing about?” Bakugou grunted, his eyes narrowing at your figure, which was relaxed against the soft towel you were using as a blanket of sorts. “I’ll kill you.”

“I’m sure you could,” was your smooth response, your head adjusting on your arms to look at him easier. “I just think you should rub your sunscreen in better, Sero did a horrible job at applying it on your back. Unless, of course, you want a penis tanned on you.”

“Why the hell would I want a fucking penis on my back?!” Bakugou growled, his hand grabbing his SPF 100 sunscreen and slapping a handful onto his back.

He heard you push off the sand ground and felt you stop behind him, and Bakugou froze when your warm fingers pressed against your back. “You’re a bit helpless at this sort of stuff. I figured you’d be the type to carry around a stick of sorts so you could apply it to yourself with no issue.”

“I don’t come to sunbathe ever,” Bakugou countered, his ears lightly burning at the feeling of your hands rubbing the sunscreen against his paler back. “I’m typically covered from head to toe.”

“Oh, I am more than aware of that,” you sagely nodded, pulling away when you were done to fall back onto your towel with a grin when he finally turned to look at you. “Still, you’re a big enough nerd to do it.”

Bakugou’s jaw dropped at the accusation, his eyes narrowing and his defenses on high alert, “The hell?! I’m not some damn nerd!”

“You graduated third in the class, unlike the cool kids who graduate ninth in the class,” you teased, your class ranking lower than his but still nothing to be ashamed about with who was in their class.

“That doesn’t make me a nerd, just makes me smarter than you damn idiots!”

“You’re the only person who flosses every day, always eats healthy foods, probably rivals Midoriya in hero trivia, listens to everything authorities say, never broke a rule or got detention, and sleeps at eight p.m.”

“How is any of that nerd shit? Just sounds like I’ll live longer and be better! Besides, how you know all that shit, you sound like some creepy stalker.”

A glint of amusement sparked in your eyes before you slipped on sunglasses, leaning down onto your towel with a proud grin on your face. “I have a strange fascination with nerds, sorry to disappoint you.”

Blinking in disbelief, Bakugou shook his head, settling back onto his own towel with a snort, “You’re a bigger asshole then I thought you were.”

“I hide it very well behind this pretty smile,” you flash a disgustingly pretty smile his way, and Bakugou rolls his eyes again.

“So… uh, how have things been for you at your agency?”

Bakugou would then find himself having a rather informative conversation with you. The both of you trading stories of how it was to work as a legit hero now, to no longer have to think of UA’s reputation or the fear that taking action in stressful situations would cause their learning licenses to be removed. He was also quick to discover that he really enjoyed talking with you, his often limited conversation energy never feeling drained as he continued talking.

Stories were shared, snarky comments exchanged, which left both him and you in laughter until the party of two became more.

He could barely keep a hold on his fake annoyment when both of you were being hauled into the cold ocean water, your loud shrieks as Mina tackled you into a crashing wave, making him grin as he quickly tore off Kaminari and Sero from his arms. That is until you reappeared from under the water to take him entirely off guard and tackle both of you into the water, your screams loud in his ear.

When he emerged from the salty water looking akin to a wet dog, everyone froze up in their poorly concealed concern and fear: this was war.

It had been a fun day at the beach, even if Bakugou had a hard time admitting to it, but as the sun set, the hot summer day fading into a warm summer night, and they all sat around a bonfire Bakugou felt as if the sun was still beating down on his tan skin. There was no reason for the explosive warmth invading his skin except that you were huddled at his side, your attention on the others. At the same time, you playfully fought with them, your eyes occasionally falling on him in hopes of a verbal back up.

He agreed with you every time, growing more and more pleased with the fact that your eyes glimmered with great joy and how the others booed and disagreed until finally, they had to go.

“I miss hanging out with you,” you admitted when you all piled into the car, exhaustion sitting heavy on all of you after a good but long day.

Bakugou’s heart skips a beat, and he licks his lips, nodding slowly, not wanting to let you see how he was coloring in his embarrassing agreement.

“Yeah, whatever,” he looked at your still smiling form, letting him know you didn’t buy his statement even for a second. “...I do, too.” And the smile that consumed your face nearly killed every willpower he still had left.

It was then that Bakugou had to admit that he never thought he would have to consider.

He liked you.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“Bakugou is that you?!”

Bakugou had been going home. Dressed up in a formal suit, he thought he would be unrecognizable and left alone with his head hanging low and earbuds in, but he guessed no matter what, the laws of having earbuds in went ignored.

Today had been hard. Today had been the day of the funeral to one of his colleagues who had perished in a black market raid he and the agency he worked at had embarked on. It had been a perfect raid, something that hailed his name in the spotlight for quite some time, but it was for naught because a friend of his had died. Those who had been close to his fallen friend were forced to take the rest of the day off and get okayed by the agency’s psychiatrist before resuming duty. It wasn’t something Bakugou wanted to follow; after all, crime didn’t take a day off, but he had no choice (he had been threatened with more days off, and stupid Deku had pulled him away before a real scene could emerge).

But he felt weird in this get up, the suit just felt strange on his body, too nice, too formal for the lifestyle he held. Why it was inappropriate to show up to a funeral in your hero attire was beyond him. As it was midday, Bakugou had hoped that he wouldn’t have to see anyone on the train back to his province, but to his dismay, even with the classical music blasting in his ears, he heard someone yelling.

He turned his head slightly and paused when he saw you running towards him with a bunch of paper in your arms, your face sweaty from what he assumed was exhaustion.

“You’re looking handsome!” you chirped, sighing heavily when you stumbled to his side, your cheeks pinched into a genuine smile. “Why you all dressed up for?”

“A funeral,” was Bakugou’s dry response, and your smile quickly fell off your face, a flustered and mortified look replaced the smile, and if it had been any other situation, Bakugou would have barked in laughter.

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry!” you awkwardly state, your condolences heavy on your face and quickly emitting from your tongue while you bowed in your embarrassment. “I didn’t remember that Slingshots’ funeral was today.”

Bakugou’s jaw tightened at the name, his head nodding with a stiff shoulder, “Not a big deal, he’s been gone for a few days now.”

Your eyebrows knit together, your eyes looking at him concernedly before you shook your head, “Doesn’t really matter, it’s still the death of a friend of yours.”

Bakugou shrugged again, his hands moving out to grab half the stack of papers in your hands and holding them for you. He always remembered his dumb nerd friends telling him that it was a kind act to do for people you liked, Kirishima always raved about how it worked for him at least.

“Well, um… Kirishima told me that you moved into the building across from mine! How crazy is that?!” Bakugou knew immediately that you were changing the subject for him, something he truly and deeply appreciated because he was not ready to talk about his feelings about Slingshot - well, at least not in public. Damn paparazzi always seemed to catch his most embarrassing moments.

“Kirishima’s telling you that shit about me?”

“Oh yeah, Kirishima loves to gossip all about your life,” you state matter of factly, your head tilting with a wink. “I know all your dirty little secrets Bakugou Katsuki! We have a class group chat where Kirishima and Midoriya spill all their knowledge on you.”

Bakugou wasn’t precisely sure how false that statement was; all things considered, he knew those damn idiots would do something like that should the old class actually want information on him. Sighing, he nodded towards the train that pulled up to the station, and the two of you climbed on, taking the first two available seats together.

“What’s my biggest secret, then?” Bakugou decided to play along, his head resting on the train window, his eyes falling onto your softly smiling form with shielded amusement.

A shit-eating grin grew magnificently against your face, and Bakugou almost regretted asking because you leaned in close, your lips whispering to his ear despite the empty train cart, and uttered something that sent horrified dread through his veins.

“You’re one of three owners of the super exclusive and rare All Might Bronze Age trading card.”

“HOW THE FUCK DID YOU KNOW THAT?!”

“OH MY GOD, IT’S TRUE!!!”

Embarrassment blazed on Bakugous face while you continued to laugh, your hands holding your papers flat against your body while you shrieked for air. He rolled his eyes despite it all and just stared at your snorting form since you failed to recompose yourself at what was your lying attempt to disillusion him and worked.

It had been seven months since Mina’s birthday, and since that fateful day, his feelings for you had only grown more extensive and more real. He could never admit it to anyone, but he texted you nearly every day - the days where there was no communication would often come from your end of the conversation or because one of you had an extremely exhaustive day at work.

He watched how the soft winter sun shone through the clouds, piercing through the window to brighten the color of your eyes, making them look even warmer and more delicate in his opinion. How he was never interested in you during high school was beyond him. You were - on a personality level - identical to when you were in high school, he had confirmed that suspicion of his with Mina, who had been appalled on your behalf that he hadn’t noticed you before. It was times like now that he regretted it, he wondered if he would have felt the same way as he did right now back then.

He hadn’t exactly changed much at all either, so he figured he would have liked you back then too.

You were witty, sweet, kind, but no pushover. You had helped to ease his worries and anxieties in a single night, where professionals failed to do so in years. It made no sense to him why it was this way, but as you asked to listen along to the music he played, he slipped off one earbud and handed it to you with sweaty fingers.

You graciously accepted it with a broad and exciting grin while placing it into your ear, your amused groan making his heart flutter with warmth while you complained about his old folk music selection.

“I still don’t peg you as a Beethoven guy!” you exclaimed, your head swaying in time with Symphony No. 9. “I thought you were a Led Zepplin sorta man.”

“That shits bad for your brain, you have to keep your entire body healthy or you might as well die off like some shitty extra.”

“You really think you’re some main character in this world, don’t you?” you ask, your smile teasing and your eyes so warm and smooth Bakugou felt his heart stop with just your stare. He licked his lips, his mouth feeling dry, and his hands that usually never stopped sweating felt dry when he placed them on his lap.

“I’m the main fucking character,” he corrected with a smug smirk. “Don’t you dare fucking forget it.”

He would never say it, but his favorite sound and sight in the world became this moment right now, the hardworking city fading in the background and even his music fading into nothing while your hands pressed to your mouth, and a charming giggle escaped your mouth.

“I won’t.”

He won’t admit it, but when you hugged him later that day as a means of goodbye, it took every ounce of self-restraint to keep himself from tilting you backward and kissing the lights out of you.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Bakugou was in trouble.

It wasn’t anything that warranted immediate concern or any type of life-ending trouble (although his heart was hammering so fast he thought it could be life-ending), but he was in trouble.

His hands were clenched together, and his head was down while he listened to Jirou and Mina screaming some sort of punk-pop duet that was in English together. It had been over a year since the train incident, a year for Bakugou to shift through his feelings for you and what they meant and if they were meant to be pursued. It was weird for him to have waited this long to begin with. He was a man of acting quickly and thinking later, a fatal flaw of his if he would, but you were so different to him - a situation where he couldn’t behave like some hot head or else he would regret it.

Today was Kirishima’s twentieth birthday, and he had wanted a simple stay in party with everyone, a shit ton of alcohol, and a karaoke machine. It was to no surprise that it was a party that the entire class 1-A ended up showing up, each and every one of them ready to have fun with the drinks and karaoke machine. But as he watched you up there doing the stupidest poses (alongside seven others) known to mankind while singing some diva song, something hit him.

His once amused smile melted off instantly when you smiled widely, your head tilting backward into a peal of laughter when Aoyama knocked you straight into Hagakure and Mina.

He was in love with you.

He was in fucking love with you.

That was a problem! That was not okay!

He had gotten up from the crowded bedroom (something you had insisted they perform in to really push that karaoke room feeling). He walked into the living room, a harsh comment about how he needed some fresh fucking air being thrown behind him while he slammed the door shut. No one questioned him, and the party continued.

A part of him was relieved that neither Kirishima nor Deku followed after him, he didn’t really wish to be a damper to the party even though he sure he was one right now. But what he didn’t expect was for your body to slip out of the bedroom door, beads of sweat rolling down your face while you met his gaze.

You smiled broadly, walking over with a wave before flopping onto the couch.

“It was too hot in there, I was sweating like a goddamn pig,” you exasperate, your hands fanning your face for added coolness.

How Bakugou wished he was that half and half bastard so he could help you cool down.

“I think you’re sweating more than a fucking pig,” Bakugou pipped in, giving his unneeded opinion.

You chuckled, your lightly sweating forearm smacking his side while you chuckled, “Yeah, true. I’m sweating like you right now.”

“You’re an asshole,” Bakugou grunted, his eyes shifting to look at you.

Despite his harsh words, he was looking down at you with no malice in his gaze. Breathing heavily out of your nose, you pushed off the couch and sat on it properly, looking at your best friend with a grin.

“And why are you out here exactly? Kiri wants to sing a song with you, Midoriya, and Todoroki like really badly.”

“Well shitty hair can come ask me to sing a song with him and those idiots if he wants, I’m not going back in that disgusting room until I have to.” Bakugou waves off, his thighs shifting against the soft couch and his arm falling on the sofa behind your head.

“Don’t be a party pooper!” you groaned, your hands shoving his side softly, but your smile remained on your face. “What’s eating you up? Come on, you can tell me anything, ya know!”

Bakugou freezes a bit, those words relaying in his mind like a broken record.

What would happen if he told you if he was in love with you?

Would you hate him if he did?

He was sure you wouldn’t say it back - that was for sure.

“I won’t say,” he breathes out shakily, the words ‘I’m in love with you’ pounding on every cell of his body.

He loved you. He loved you more than he thought he could ever love anyone.

He wanted to tell you, and the look of utter disappointment in your face only made his stomach twist with guilt and failure that he didn’t tell you.

“I promise I won’t tease you… I won’t do anything to upset you! You know you can trust me, right?” you plead, your hand taking his sweaty one, and Bakugou flushed at the warm contact.

He loved you, he loved you, he loved you.

There’s a look of guilt that twists on your face, and you sigh, your head dropping and Bakugou freezes when you begin to shake your head. “Sorry, that’s… that’s rude of me. If you don’t want to tell me, I won’t make you, but if you want to, I promise that I won’t judge.”

Your concerned eyes rose back up to meet his, and Bakugou felt his spine go stiff.

A shaky breath of air expelled past his chapped lips, and Bakugou’s fingers trembled, “I have something to confess…”

Your eyes widened in shock and silent glee that he was going to let you in on his secret, but he wondered if you would look the same after he confessed.

“I’m-”

“Y/n!” a shout interrupted, and Bakugou froze while both of your heads snapped over to see Kirishima pushing out of the door with a bright grin on his face.

“Ei!” you smiled broadly in return, your voice almost breathless at his arrival, your eyes filled with emotions that Bakugou could only dream were directed towards him. Immediately his stomach twisted sickeningly at the sight of his red-headed best friend take three long strides to get to the couch before planting the biggest kiss he had ever seen onto your lips.

Bakugou’s stomach filled with bitter acid at the sight of you and Kirishima passionately kissing despite having him no more than two centimeters away from you. Giggles and the purest sounds of two people in deep, deep love emitted from the both of you, and it took everything in Bakugou not to split his skull in half in raging jealousy.

“I was missing you so much! I looked away, and you were gone!” Kirishima pouted, his tone a low whine, but his mouth continued to press flustering kisses against your mouth until you were gently pushing him away. Embarrassment obvious in your posture because shamelessly making out in front of any audience always left you uncomfortable.

“I was… checking up on… on Bakugou,” you pathetically moaned against Kirishima’s mouth, your hands helpless against his chest while you attempted to push away your tipsy and loving boyfriend. Kirishima let out an understanding ‘oh’ before pushing away from your lips and collapsing onto the couch next to you.

Bakugou was silent and frozen as he looked at his feet, his nostrils flaring in his anger and embarrassment because what was he ever thinking?! Confessing to you when you had a boyfriend?!

“How’s Bakubro doing?” Kirishima cheered, his hand slapping against Bakugou’s taut shoulder with a wide grin. “Is he being a good friend?”

“You know he always is,” you laugh, your lips pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “He was about to tell me something, though!”

Bakugou froze when he felt your gaze and Kirishima’s fall on him, and acid shot to his mouth.

You had been dating Kirishima since the start of the third year at UA. It was a relationship he was always and has always been aware of because Kirishima never was secretive about his puppy love crush on you! Still, he knew this and fell for you. You were his best friend’s lover, and he fell in love with you. He could never say he was in love with you, not if he knew what was best for you and Kirishima.

But even if he wasn’t the sixteen-year-old boy with anger issues from hell, there was a part of him that would always be that, and in a time where he needed to be calm and lie through his teeth, seething anger exploded in his chest.

“I don’t want to be your friend anymore.”

Both you and Kirishima froze, “W-What?”

Bakugou was a good hero because his quirk was powerful. Explosions were powerful, and they were deadly if misused. He wasn’t someone who could use his quirk as a means to save - sure he saved people every day, but he would never aim a blast towards a victim. That would be idiotic. Bakugou knew he wasn’t his quirk. He was explosive and bitter and mean at times, but he believed he was more than that. He was better than that. And for the past three years, he had been working on that part of himself, only for it to fall and collapse in an explosive fury right now.

He was dangerous.

“This entire time, I only gave you a shot because I knew you were seeing Kirishima. You’re fucking annoying though, an airheaded, a coward, and so fucking nosey, I wonder just how Kirishima is still with you! He can do so much fucking better than you, and it’s embarrassing that you can’t even see it!”

“You don’t mean that,” came your soft and utterly broken voice, your face pleading for him to say it was a lie, pleading that this was some joke.

Tears burned at the back of his eyes but refused to form, and Bakugou wished he could say he was done after that, but the thing about destruction is that there was always more than just one wave.

“I tried to be your friend, I did, but it was the worst mistake I made. You’re a shit friend, a shit hero, and a shit significant other. You’re not someone I admire or think of as an equal, and I think it’s best if you just left me the fuck alone.”

“You’re an asshole,” you laugh humorlessly, your eyes stone hard and staring daggers into Bakugou’s skull, but to his own horror, a steely laugh escapes his lips he shrugs.

“I’ve been called worse.”

You stood up, storming away from the loud room and slamming the door so loudly behind you it rattled the walls.

“What the hell was that, Bakugou?!” Kirishima gasped, his eyes wide in a fury and hurt, the once tipsy glaze to his eyes gone and only full of sober anger and disbelief. “That was the unmanliest shit I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth?! The fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Fuck off, go take care of the fucking crybaby,” Bakugou heaved, the tears burning even more as he folded his arms, his gaze focused on his feet once again.

“Did you know that y/n used to fucking like you?! All three years in high school y/n had the biggest fucking crush on you, and even when we got together… I knew those feelings still existed…” curling acid shot up his throat at the critical information. You had liked him? “For three years y/n tried to be your friend, and it didn’t work until the very end and you just… why did you do that?! You’re a fucking dick, Bakugou.”

Bakugou wasn’t sure if he was grateful or not when Kirishima pushed off the couch, his footsteps shockingly sober as he moved to chase after you. But the moment that Kirishima was out of sight and the karaoke room began to play the Disney classic, I won’t say I’m in love, something twisted in his soul and tears pushed through his eyes.

He loved you so fucking much, but as he always seemed to, he had destroyed every good thing in his life because of his attitude.

You were Kirishima’s, and it only really hit him now… how could you ever forgive him?

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou angst #bnha #bnha x reader

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thankchaosforspellcheck · 3 years

Text

In a Svsss princess tutu au the system would definitely be Drosselmeyer.

And i can see you thinking "but what about airpla-" and yes I KNOW why that would be your first thought but actually i think he would be somewhere between Autor (cant remember if i spelled that correctly) and fakir.

In canon hes the original writer & the world works based on his OG plans, sure, but the systems the ACTUAL one in control the second canon starts. The system is the one that decides not only to stick to the script but to also make everyone else stick to it as well while only changing a few things it didn't like.

And dont get me wrong, airplanes not exactly a great guy either. He genuinely liked his tragic conversation about the cycle of abuse turned actual story up until he went full sellout, and he still seemed to want to stick to the script to some degree, which is why i would stick Autor in there as part of his role.

However, he dislikes just enough of how the system is forcing him through things (and also is, once again, the actual OG writer) that i think he should also play some of Fakir's role. He hates and fears his power for what could- and HAS- happened, so now he needs to learn how to use it for the better (or at least for less bad reasons).

It's been difficult to place how everyone, but I think I've got a general idea of how it would work:

Airplane's plot in this is just a classic fairytale that he never got to finish before his house was struck by lightning, causing a fire that killed him and his editor, also destroying his original outline.

His latest chapter was just before the grand finale, right in the middle of the epic battle between the antagonist, the demon king Luo Binghe, and the hero, the brave prince Yue Qingyuan.

Because of this, they are both trapped in a constant battle until YQY finally has enough and, in a move of pure desperation, uses his sword to pierce his soul, causing it to shatter and meld to the broken pieces of a sword, using the power from this to seal LBH away.

However, this did not completely seal LBH, and in fact only sealed his demon side and his memories along with it, while also sealing off YQY's own memories as well.

(Airplane, centuries later after being reincarnated, swears he had no idea these characters were going to become real.

"I mean, come on bro!!! who PLANS for that!?! It was a basic-ass fairytale at that point, I hadn't even written out all this backstory yet!!!" He pleads with the cat currently trying to claw his face off.

The cat does not sympathize.)

Of course, because this is Airplane, this wasn't all that there was to it. If he had actually gotten to finish it, it would have gone on quite a bit longer than originally implied. Up to that point, it was a "basic-ass fairytale" with a few hints to a larger plot.

But that fight was supposed to be a turning point.

After Binghe won, there was supposed to be flashbacks from his point of view showing his Tragic Past(tm) and explaining that all of this could have been avoided if there were a single reasonable adult around for his formative years.

It was going to have grand themes revolving around the cycle of abuse and how the villain of your story might be the hero of someone else's and yadda yadda yadda.

Airplane regretted not being able to finish it a bit, but ultimately it wasn't that big of a deal.

His editor though?

Was furious.

Decades later, after years of plotting and planning and searching for the right "characters" to continue the "story" with, they finally come back from that strange place outside of the narrative as something... strange.

They've forgotten their name by now.

They've forgotten most of their life.

They do remember some things though.

They remember the rush they felt whenever they read another tragedy, each one crueler then the last.

They remember the awe that filled them when they discovered how The Prince and The Demon was actually going to end.

They remember the frustration of going through the mess on airplanes desk just to find that last page they needed to edit.

They remember his constant reminders that "I have a system!" that would come out of his mouth, to which they would snidely reply "Yes, and its me."

So that was what it called itself.

The System.

and it has found the perfect new character to get the story back on track.

----

Xiao-Yuan was a perfectly average cat, thank you very much.

He liked sunbathing, sleeping, and stealing food from the campus cafeteria (not that it was really stealing when it was left in a bowl specifically for him).

He did not like getting stuck in the woods at dusk after the fog roles in, but he had been chasing a particularly quick rodent and was distracted until it was too late.

He was not panicking, no sir. Cats do not panic. He just didn't want to find his own way out. So he decided to attract someone who would do it for him. by meowing.

loudly.

a lot.

And he was right! Someone did come!

(he might have been more crying then meowing at that point but shhh)

Warm, strong arms pick him up and a soft, if a bit vacant smile shines down at him. "ah, are you lost, little one?" The man asks. "I should take you back to campus. I've finished practicing out here anyways."

In that moment, a vague feeling of concern flashes across the little black cats mind. "He looks so... empty." Xiao-Yuan thinks "I wish I could do something to help that."

This feeling follows the cat as they walk to campus, even after he's safely set down, even when he's back in his favorite spot (a little spot with a pillow set up behind the water heater, carefully insulated by the cooks and students so he doesn't get burned) and well into a deep slumber.

---

Shen Yuan is a perfectly average student, thank you very much.

He's not fantastic at ballet, much more suited for lounging then intense exercise, but he's lithe and agile enough that he's a solid B+ student.

(Most of his issues come from the fact that he's much better at being lifted then doing lifts, and that is generally reserved for the girls in class.)

And yeah, he might have a bit of hero worship for Yue QIngyuan, but who doesn't in this school?

so if he's a perfectly normal student, with perfectly average grades...

...why the fuck is he suddenly a cat????

#scum villain self saving system #svsss au #svsss #princess tutu #princess tutu au #guess it would be PRINCE tutu for this one tho #god so many characters can fit the part of rue in this #and if that doesn't say something about svsss #I don't know what will

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amlovelies · 3 years

Text

Kindling

big thanks to everyone on discord for your help and feedback on this one 💜. Julia and Cyn rescue some hostages and then make out in an alley 😉

fandom: fhr pairing: Julia Ortega/f!sidestep (Cynthia Basri) rating: M, death/violence mention as well as some mild spice words: 2.9k read on ao3

Even without your telepathy, it’s easy to know where to go. The craned necks of passersby and the distant sound of sirens all point towards Los Diablos’ latest disaster. Ortega had been frustratingly vague in her message, no information, just an address and a ‘come quick’. Not that you really need details. There’s nothing else you’d rather be doing.

There had been a time when you had to work to slip behind the barricade unnoticed. Back when you were still an unknown vigilante, as likely to be a nuisance as an assistance. When you had to amplify your usual projections: ‘don’t notice me’ and ‘there’s nobody there.’ It’s still uncomfortable letting them drop, feeling the moment when you are seen, when you are recognized. Feeling little excited exclamations of ‘Sidestep’ and ‘hero’ in the minds around you.

Uncomfortable, unfamiliar, but also real. You spend so much of your time hiding, just a ghost in a crowd, dancing at the edges of life, but not now. Not when the officers give a respectful nod in your direction. Not when they look at you like someone who matters, like someone who can help.

You allow your mind to expand, to scan the city block around you as you take in the scene. Brushing over the crowd, you sense nothing to be concerned with, just morbid curiosity and anxiety. A customer is worried about their favorite teller. Exclamations that this is a nice neighborhood, things like this aren’t supposed to happen here. Never mind that they have no idea what ‘this’ is, they’re just irritated at the disruption to their daily routines.

You know the moment Ortega notices you by the lift at the edge of her mouth. She throws a smile in your direction that makes your stomach knot before returning her attention to the officer in front of her. You still don’t know what to do about this new thing. Fuck, you shouldn’t even call it a thing, that makes it too real. So what if you’ve been kissing, so what if you’ve let her see your face? You’re sure it’s just a passing fancy on her part, a new way to stave off boredom, and you are too stupid and selfish to stop it.

She nods at your approach, and you take the opportunity to listen in. An established routine, it’s happened more than once that the LDPD failed to give the Rangers crucial information. Sometimes it was simple incompetence, like an officer in over their head who was unable to recall the right details. Not always though. Not everyone has such an appreciative viewpoint of the Rangers, and some have a real problem with having to play second fiddle to a woman. Want to see her knocked down a peg or two (or in that case, nursing a couple broken ribs).

Even if she hadn’t asked, you would have checked. Would have let your consciousness spiral out, gentle fingers touching lightly against the minds around you, getting a fuller picture of the situation. It’s too ingrained a reflex, your primary role, reinforced in endless hours of training. Always meant to be a fly on the wall, not a part of the action, only there to report and monitor. Not anymore. You are so much more now.

Seems like a botched robbery. The ringleader is a fire boost, Pyradical, and he has at least two modded goons with him. That’s more firepower than the LDPD can comfortably deal with. It makes sense they called the Rangers in. You’ve heard the name before. He’s new on the scene and young. Early twenties or so, another desperate kid taking a chance with the boost drugs and looking to get rich quick. He was blamed for the robbery of La Brea Jewelers last month. Nasty. Last you heard, the security guard was still in the ICU recovering from the burns, but that had been a solo job. He’s getting more daring.

Ortega gives you a look as the officer mentions hostages, and you switch your focus. A year ago, this would have been outside your range, but not now. A deep breath as you push your consciousness out to toward the darkened bank. Heat, intrusive and suffocating, blazes across your consciousness and your lips pull back in a snarl in response. You change direction, not trusting yourself to touch the knotted maelstrom of Pyradical’s thoughts. Even that brief connection was enough to make your muscles tense and bunch.

The hostages are easy to pinpoint, beacons of terror and despair. The officer had said four hostages, but you only count three. Did they separate the hostages? Or is this an inside job? You need more information so you let your consciousness dip down, no longer a light brush, but letting yourself connect with one of them.

You rear back almost instantly as the scent of burning flesh fills your nostrils. A steadying hand on your shoulder keeps you from wobbling.

“You okay?” Anathema asks. Her brow is furrowed until you give her a small nod. Her frown returns, however, as you relay what you had seen in the teller’s memories. The branch manager was dead, Pyradical holding a flaming hand to his face when he refused to input his half of the vault combo. You need to move quick.

It’s a simple plan: you and Anathema will sneak around back and focus on getting the hostages out. Ortega will create a big showy diversion and keep Pyradical busy. Getting attention is what she does best after all. Power has been cut to the building, so you don’t have to worry about any alarms. Anathema rubs her hands together and you grimace as the sharp scent of acid fills the air. You’ll never get used to the sound of metal bubbling as she presses her palm against the lock. You close your eyes and focus on the minds inside. The world narrows down. Narrows down to just this building, you feel yourself settle into your body. Awareness focused, reflexes honed, like an arrow ready to be fired, listening and waiting to react.

The mod guarding the back door goes down easy. He had no hope of dodging your punch to his throat. Especially not when his brain is telling him you’re still a foot out of reach. He goes down and you keep moving.

It’s stuffy inside, warm even for Los Diablos. Sobs, muffled and hopeless escape from behind the teller line, but no sounds of alarm. You step over the prone body and into the dim interior of the bank, Anathema following close behind. Any second now Ortega and her distraction should arrive.

Glass shatters as her familiar form crashes through the front window. A roar of surprised anger erupts and chaos descends. It takes an effort to ignore the sounds of the fight, the fizzle of Ortega’s mods and flesh hitting flesh, you have to ball your fingers into a tight fist as you resist the urge to join her. Orange and white light paint the walls in bright flashes as you draw closer to the hostages.

�� You catch an intention and roll to the left as a bullet narrowly misses you. Before you exit your roll, Anathema is already moving, her fist flying towards the shooter’s face.

You trust her enough to turn your back on the fight. The hostages look dazed, eyes unfocused and tears staining their faces. The fear rolling off them hits you like a wave and you strengthen your shields. You make quick work of the zip ties binding their ankles and wrists. One of them begins to bolt, fear clouding his judgment. He’s only focused on the safety promised by the daylight shining through the shattered window, not one the flames shooting from Pyradical’s hands.

It’s a good thing you’re quick, hands flying out to grab the back of his jacket and pull him away from the danger. Heat billows in waves from the lobby. Even through your mask, your eyes burn from the acrid smoke as cheap décor goes up in flames.

Ortega’s voice taunts from the lobby. You can’t make out the words, but you know the tone. As long as she’s laughing things are under control.

It’s easy enough to soothe the hostages, just a gentle brush against their minds, a promise of safety, of making it out of here alive, to trust, to be ready. A firm command to their minds and they follow you out the door.

You lead the hostages to the waiting hands of the paramedics who are waiting with shock blankets and oxygen masks. Your objective completed you turn back to the building. Smoke pours out the shattered window mixing with the omnipresent Los Diablos haze. If you don’t end this fight soon the whole building is going to go up.

You’re nearly to the building when Ortega leaps out the window.

“Get down!” she yells. Not that you are given a choice as she barrels into you. The wind is knocked out of your lungs as she tackles you to the ground.

“What the fuck—” but the words are lost in the explosion that shakes the ground.

Your ears ring. Ortega’s lips are moving, but you have no idea what she’s saying. Probably some dumb quip.

This is not the time or the thing you should be focused on, but she’s so close. It feels different. Different now that she’s kissed you. Different now that you’ve felt her lips against yours. Fuck, you want to feel them again.

You should focus on the fact that there was just an explosion, but instead your whole world has shrunk down to the weight of her body pressing you into the ground. The concrete is hard and painful under your body. There’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

“Was that really necessary?” Your voice has none of the steel you were hoping for. It’s a gulping flustered thing.

“Better safe than sorry,” Ortega says with a wink. “Besides, I’m quite comfy.”

“Really? Is that all you think about?”

“Only around you,” she says as she presses her lips down against yours. Even with the mask in the way, you can’t help but gasp. She doesn’t need her mods, or even to touch your skin to leave you feeling electrified.

And then she’s up, all movement and action, turning back to the burning shell of the building. Anathema emerges, one of the goons in tow, and you breathe a sigh of relief as Julia surges forward to help her. Smoke rises in thin tendrils from her suit, and there are patches where the fabric has burned away to reveal her pale freckled skin underneath. Skin that is untouched and undamaged despite being caught in the explosion.

Pyradical is dead, going out in a blaze of glory rather than allowing the Rangers to bring him in.

The hostages are shaken up, but physically fine. The goon you’d left unconscious by the back door is carted away in the back of an ambulance, the other in the back of a cop car. He’s lucky to be alive. Anathema shielded his body with her own during the explosion. Not that he’s feeling particularly grateful right now.

The action is over and you let yourself slip into the background. Anathema has already left, back to HQ for a shower and change of clothes. Ortega holds court answering questions and smiling for the cameras. You should leave, head home, but you can’t bring yourself to yet. Not with the glances Ortega keeps shooting you.

At last satiated, the press leaves, and with them the rest of the crowd. It’s oddly peaceful. The fire from the explosion has long since been put out, though smoke still hangs in the air. The surrounding area is almost empty, now that the excitement is over, people go on with their day.

You fall into step with Ortega as she walks to where her motorcycle is parked. It’s a natural instinct to envelop her in your projection, to let her pass unnoticed as well. A young woman nearly walks into her, and Ortega shoots you a questioning glance. You shrug, she should be used to this trick of yours by now. It’s just easier to wrap you both in a bubble of anonymity. To not have to worry about sharing her with the public.

Her smile turns wicked, and something in your stomach flutters, twists, knots. You don’t have the language to describe the things that smile does to you. You can’t read her thoughts, but you can guess her intentions. This is when you should dodge, should step to the side, distance yourself. You don’t. You let her grab your hand and pull you into the dimness between two buildings.

Her hands are quick, nimble, as they roll up the edge of your mask with ease. As if it was a regular practiced movement, and maybe it is becoming one. How many times have you let this happen now? You’d have to stop her if she tried to remove the whole thing, but she doesn’t. Only your mouth is exposed, and only for a moment, before she captures your lips in a kiss.

This is so much better than that ghost of a kiss during the fight, so much better when you can feel the brand of her lips on yours. A small sigh escapes you, and that’s all the invitation she needs to deepen the kiss. Her tongue darts out, teasing and quick; one hand grips the back of your head. Her nails scrape against the nanoweave of your mask as she angles you exactly how she wants you.

Oh, this is foolish. This is playing with fire and knowing that you will get burnt, but not caring. You have so many scars already, what is one more?

The kiss breaks and she pulls back. You chase her lips, wanting more, needing more. Another drag, another kiss, you’re used to wanting things that will end up hurting you.

“You’re too damn tall,” you huff. You need her closer, but you don’t trust your footing balancing on your tip toes. Your arms wind around her neck as you attempt to pull her down to your height. She concedes bending down to kiss you again. She chuckles against your lips, the reverberations traveling down to your toes and sending a shiver down your spine.

Before you can protest, her hands move to your waist, and she lifts you with an ease that draws a surprised squeak out of you, one that is cut off as she captures your lips again. Your legs wrap around her waist as if by instinct, pulling her flush against you. Nothing but your skinsuits between you. You trust yours to stop a knife, a bullet, but now it feels so insubstantial. Unable to protect you from hungry press of Ortega between your thighs as she holds you pinned against the brick wall of the alley.

Adrenaline from the fight is still coursing through your veins. Your very blood transforms into an electrical current, dancing through your veins and grounding you on the feel of Ortega’s lips. You wonder if this is how she always feels. Your fingers knot in her hair, pulling it out of her careful braid. The small curls at the nape of her neck wrapping themselves around your fingers much like how your limbs are wrapped around her.

You should stop this, eventually you will have to stop this, but that thought is a small voice compared to the screaming of your body. A voice drowned out by the groan Ortega makes as you nibble on her bottom lip, and her grip tightens on your thigh. For a few moments the rest of the world ceases to exist. There is nothing but this moment. You don’t think, can’t think of anything but her. Her hands and her lips and the blood pounding in your veins. You thought you felt alive during that fight? There’s no comparison.

Eventually, the kiss breaks, and she rests her forehead against yours. You both are breathing heavy; your pulse is a wild erratic thing. A softer kiss this time, not quite a peck, still letting herself linger, but the frantic need of a few moments ago has dissipated.

Your legs wobble when she sets you back down on your feet. From the smug smile on her face, you know she notices. You wish you had a sharp quip at the ready, but you’re still too drunk on her.

At least pulling your mask down means she can’t see your facial expressions.

You walk back to the bike in silence. She’s closer than she needs to be. Her hand keeps brushing against your arm. Gentle, accidental touches which you know are no accident at all.

“Come back to HQ with me?” she asks as she climbs onto the bike. “I’ll order pizza and you can keep me company while I do paperwork?”

You don’t have to read her mind to know she isn’t thinking about paperwork. Not with the way her eyes trail over your body. Letting you know she is looking, appreciating.

“Only because I’m hungry,” you lie as you take the helmet from her outstretched hand and climb behind her.

“Don’t worry,” say says with a wicked laugh, her hand squeezing yours where it rests on her waist. “I’ll make sure you’re satisfied.”

#fallen hero #if: fhr #lovelieswrites #julia ortega #fhr ortega #oc: Cynthia basri #fic: cynthia basri #ship: you'll be her ruin

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