#//((She hates being a hero and runs away from the responsibility associated with it. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Note

Hi <3 I'm not sure if you're comfortable writing this but I'll try :) Smth where Buckys girlfriend suffers from a lung illness and normally he supports her whenever she feels bad, but one time he's on a long mission where he cant be there when he struggles breathing. Then the other Avengers at the compound take her to the hospital and call Buck who immediately rushes home to be by your side and it's all cute and fluffy in the end? :) Thank you very much <3

Trapped Air

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary | whilst on a mission, you suffer with your breathing problems, leaving all to panic as you have air trapped in your lungs.

Warnings | breathing problems, angst, mentions of death, swearing, mentions of torture

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

There had been no call back from Bucky; he was on a mission far away, and deep undercover, and the fact that you had no response did not surprise you, however, it was impossible not to feel overcome with worry.

From what you knew, he was somewhere in Austria with Steve, and most likely irritated by the company of Sam. The thought of them together, waiting for further intel made you smile, and so you sat up on the sofa; the place where you had fallen into a rural slumber late the previous evening. That thought also made you lightly snicker to yourself, and had you grasping your chest in agony at the action.

You adjusted your seat on the sofa, kicking the blanket under your legs as you tried to relax your entire body. To subdue the worry for your love that you had and were experiencing, you and Nat had watched a movie, your head running with thoughts of the danger that your boyfriend was possibly under.

It was no doubt that James Buchanan Barnes, the White Wolf and former Winter Soldier was a fine fighter; he had endured and survived wars, achieving victory in the vast majority of his battles. But still, he was nothing more than a man, with a veil of serum coursing through his veins, and whilst it made him much stronger, he was still sustainable to injury, and worse.

Countless times had you seen him braised in bruises, and kissed along the seam of his scars, and though he had lived through decades, and still appeared unscathed considering the circumstances, he was a mortal man, able to die and it was far too clear for your scared eyes that he wouldn’t be able to survive every fall.

An emptiness peeled away inside of you as you placed the phone down, resting your head upon the arm of the sofa of where you had done so priorly. Taking a deep breath, you wheezed, feeling nothing more than internal pain, and it was not just for your longing to see Bucky again. It was indeed something else, a condition that you had grown used to over the years.

It had taken everything from you; the job that you had so well partook in was diminished to being unsuitable for your health. Being an avenger had once been your only purpose, but it had been the one thing that had broken you. From all the rubble and other pesticides that you had breathed in, it had tampered with your lungs, and made you to be nothing more than a victim, a fallen hero.

The worse thing about being fallen in such a way was that you had not died on the job, instead, you were being tormented every time you watched your friends leave the compound, carrying a duffel bag that had all the necessities that they could possibly need for the gruelling months ahead on the missions that they had been sent on.

Knowing that if you weren’t so inwardly broken and that if that were the case, you could have easily accompanied Bucky and the others on their uncover op made you feel worthless, and disposable. As your chest raked the air that surpassed its roots, it waded a feeling through every limb that was attached to you.

Large gulps from the air machine that was beside you usually helped, but as your brought the medically introverted oxygen mask to surround the lower half of your face, the torturous sensation failed to fade. It remained, stuck in the collapse of your airways, refusing to allow air into your defined bloodstream.

The factor alone had you panicking, and as you went to stand, there was a pounding fire coursing through your head. Your eyes got dreary, fluttering as you reached out to grasp for the side of the seating area to stabilise your steps. But it wasn’t enough, all of your weight leant to one side, and a loud and colossal smash echoed through the room.

You helplessly laid there, having no ability to get up, as the shards of the glass table that had tried to break your fall, and had ended up breaking instead, stabbed mercilessly into the canvas of your back. It made you feel like a dartboard, free to the attempts of anything that put a bet on to try. This was your final fall from greatness, and if you weren’t to survive this, that would be o-

“Y/n.” A voice rushed out, as footsteps scrambled to come to your side. The silouhette of a blurry man knelt beside you, sickened with their own scheme of panic. “Nat!” He called out towards the kitchen, you hearing the pitter patter of her assumed footsteps that were toed in competent heels.

“Clint, what happened?” She asked, but giving him a break to compose his answer as she called warily out for FRIDAY, relieved when the AI answered her order. “Get one of Stark’s cars ready to go to the hospital, inform who needs to know. Y/n’s just had a nasty fall, and I assume more.”

“She was like this when I got in here.” Was the archer’s delirious response. His hands raised your head out of the cracked pieces, gently picking the sharp crystals out of your hair. He was sick with worry, he knew that you were touring a difficult road, one that no one else on the team could fathom to understand, but despite all that, he was still there for you, as were the numerous others.

Wearing his priceless suit, Tony rushed into the room, his brown eyes blown wide as he scoped the scene. “She’s losing consciousness.” Nat informed the pair, focusing on how your eyes barely had the strength to stay open. Your breathing was laboured, and the choke emitting from it was audible, making all witnesses wince from the threatening sound.

“My car is ready, on our way to the ER, give Barnes a call.” He held the keys to his vehicle, swinging them around his finger, as he watched Clint and Natasha hoist you up, and support you through the journey to the front of the compound. Nat stroked your hair as she bit back her own tears, combing tenderly through the slightly bloody tresses to soothe her own present anxiety.

The mission was turning out to be a bust, they were tracking Zemo after his great escape; hence why their departure was classified. It was unknown why the once Baron of Sokovia had fled to the country, but all prior intel had supported the idea that he was searching for a partner to help finish his work, if he were to ever get caught by the American government again.

Bucky hated being away from the place that had slowly become his home. It made him feel lost, but if he wanted to remain within said area to continue his life, he had to follow Fury’s orders, or else the panel that had granted him freedom for all his past actions, may happen to change his mind.

The gig of being an avenger was more of Steve’s expertise, he was loved by the country, and had never tried to break its order down piece by piece. Before he was cleared to join the team, and the debate that lead to Steve and Tony siding against one another, he was nothing more than a tense ghost story.

All knew he was real, but most were too scared to admit that the Winter Solider was an assassinating figure in existence. To everyone’s dismay now, following rule number two, he was no longer HYDRA’s pet weapon. He, for the first time in his life, had some kind of clarity on who he was.

His identity, was James Bucky Barnes, the White Wolf, the protector of the world and a renounced ally of Wakanda. And he was happy to be known as such, in a way, the new him cleared his red ledger, and that faded away with that damned red book.

No one had the power to control his mind again, all of his actions were now completely up to him. At first, with the reign over himself, he had been unsure on how to start with this new and invented soldier that he had become. He was no longer taking refuge behind the facade of T’Challa’s country anymore, for he was no a wanted man of the state.

But Sam enjoyed prodding at his ‘cyborg brain’, driving him to certain frustration. Though, it did not matter as much, for he found the peace he had been searching for after that little bit of calm that he had experienced on his hideaway.

You. A retired avenger, that had kicked his ass, and continued to brag about it to this day, when he was under Pierce’s demeaning orders. Though, it saddened him, to have the knowledge that you no longer had the ability to pin him down on a training mat, or throw his best friend’s shield in his silent face.

There was no longer an ignition of strength to fight left within you, you were weak from the condition that had and was holding you hostage in its devastating grasp. The debts of your god deeds had wormed their way through your body, destroying it bit by bit.

Whenever he was away, missing the presence that you had once accompanied him with, he was unable but to do anything but worry about your struggling health. He feared that one day, he would get a call claiming that you had experienced a traumatic accident, and as he sat in the small and cluttered motel room, the vibrancy and life that his phone was off putting had him nervously on edge.

“It’s Fury.” He claimed to his rugged partners, putting the man that had regained control of his empire on loud speaker, awaiting for the patch wearing associate to respond to his acceptance of the call. A moment of silence had him standing, the next, caused him to pace. Steve frowned, well aware that Fury only went silent, and did not barking affirmative orders when something had happened.

That man was an absolute whore for the dramatics, he had even faked his own death on multiple accounts. There was nothing the man could fathom not to do, and this sure as hell, in the name of Goose, was not the first instance he had informed his recruits of shocking factors. Steve remembered when the dark clothed man informed him that he was in the 21st century, and to this day, it remained to be the greatest shock that he had experienced.

The second had got to be the reveal of Bucky’s survival, that heart stopping moment had gone in slow motion, as the soldat whipped his unmasked face around to face his opponents, and he was quickly recognised. You had been there to ease the confusion and the humongous shock that wired his brain. And not to mention, to soothe the wave of emotions, you had prompted at jokes at about kicking his best friend’s fine ass.

That had only been the start to a long road ahead, it had all seemed like your quad of rebelling would go on forever. Sam Wilson was your best friend, and the first to be told of your failure to continue your raids on missions, and to say that he was holding back fountains in his eyes, was a casual understatement. The Falcon had felt angry at himself for not realising the increase in coughs that fled from your sassy mouth, or how quickly you would get tired.

He put some of that blame upon himself, claiming that he should have been the first to notice the signs. It was his idea, before your struggles were revealed to anyone else, to refuse your aid on missions, which lead to conspiracies from the team. For a couple of weeks, the members that you had fought alongside for so long had speculated that you were pregnant,and even Bucky had even began to fall for that idea.

In the end, they had all wished for that to be true, a child would be a gift, whereas instead, you were bestowed with a curse. Sam had offered for you to stay with Sarah and the kids, but upon your insistence, you remained in the compound, organising files and watching cinematic classics for the thousandth time.

But anyone could see, that every time they discussed the missions, of left to endure them, your face fell, appeased by the thought that you’d never share that experience again. They all tried to distract you, Thor had even taken you on a vacation to New Asgard so that you could relax and play video games with Korg, yelling frustratedly at Noobmaster69 as the kid tried to spite your friend and his gaming skills.

That though, had not ended well, and instead, the noise had brought you insufferable pain, and you had to be taken home. But what was home anymore? You hardly felt as though you belonged upon the army of your friends, or the guardians that they were aligned with.

And so, it was very understandable why Bucky was inclined to worry. All his dragged our life, he had watched people die, or awakened from cryo to find them gone, and the split moments that he were required on missions, was another moment that he had lost with you.

He gulped as he waited for Fury to say something, anything! And when he did, he wished that he could go back in time, and stop you from ever having been an avenger. “It’s agent Y/L/N, something has happened...”

It had been hours of no news, and Stark tapped his well dressed foot. He had requested, - no, insisted the best doctors to tend to your internal and external injury, claiming that if your condition was made any worse, he would personally make sure that they never tended to another patient again.

He was not usually one to be so aggressive, but he feared loss, it was a great flaw and attribute of his. Possibly, in some people’s judgemental eyes, he cared too much, but he never thought so. To him, the billionaire was human, no matter what the citizens over the world thought of him.

Sure, he wore an iron suit to protect the world, but beneath all the metal, he had a heart. And he’d be damned sure that he used it, and that it beat for a purpose. Natasha and Clint were either side of him, the assassins on her phone as she read the captain’s well written message.

“They’ve entered the country.” She spoke, referring to Sam, Bucky and Steve. It was a relief that they were going to be here soon, then they’d all look sane in comparison to Barnes. It was doubtful that he was holding himself together well, these hours had been torture to all of them, but he had actually been tortured in multiple gruelling occasions, but it was nothing in comparison to this.

One of the country’s best and devoted doctors opened the door to the room that you were being stabilised in, leading to all eyes waiting outside to stare hopefully at him. It was an intimidating thing, to have three avengers leaving him with one of their owns lives in his hands, he was not a hero. But to them, he was to be, they trusted him and the various recommendations that had suggested that he would be best suited to the deed.

The fact that he was the man in charge in this situation was to be great steak in his career, though, he would never be able to anyone, not even family, that he had saved the life of an avenger. Due to doctor patient confidentially, he was bribed into silence by the philanthropist himself, who was certain that he was fine for paying for the entire service himself.

Money had no importance to Tony, not as his friend was the patient that could have died. The man removed his sunglasses, sternly looking up at the kind doctor with pleading and urgent eyes, wanting to scoop every detail that he could from the eccentric medic. “How is she?”

The doctor gulped, well aware that there was a weight apparent on his shoulders, even when delivering any news. But this, was a whole new experience, he knew that you, the woman hoisted up in the hospital bed, had saved his coursing during the battle of New York. He was grateful, for everything that you had done, but simultaneously, felt the need to be careful with any tactic that he used to save your life.

“Well,” he licked his dry lips, watching as the Black Widow herself stared into his soul, “she’s stable, for now. And it would be okay if one of you went in, she’s currently in the midst of waking up. However, she is going to be unable to give much in the verse of a conversation, the oxygen mask that she’s wearing has to stay on, and it will not be a good if she tries to waste the breath she’s being given to talk.”

He was interrupted by the sound of competent running down the hall, it was as though the men dressed in their gear ignored the no running rule. But it was understandable, seeing as Bucky’s eyes were wild and wide, as he came to a stop and asked what was going on. Clint stood, bracing a hand upon his shoulder, before informing him the details they had just been given. “I think you should be the first to see her.”

Bucky didn’t argue with Clint, and instead, walked into the room, ensuring that he shut the door behind himself. He smiled painfully at the sight; there were so many tubes, and all the surrounding machines were lit up with statistics that he did not understand. Nevertheless, he looked towards the vacant seat beside your bed, and claimed it for his ass that you had once kicked.

Your eyes watched as he looked down upon you, your hands reaching to remove the mask, but he placed his hand upon your own, and replaced them to be upon your chest. “Shush darling, no talking, doctor’s orders.” He spoke, rubbing your cheek with his right hand, feeling the corner of the mask against the inside of his palm.

“Had me so worried doll, thought I was gonna lose you.” At the thought, a grimace presented itself of his woeful face, and to comfort him, you placed your fingers around his own, absentmindedly playing with them as you listened to his sincere voice. “On the way here, I spoke to Shuri, we are going to see if she can help you in anyway, as long as you’re okay with that. Does that sound good baby?”

Fluttering your eyelashes as you looked through their webbed curtain to stare lovingly at him, you nodded your head, ignoring the spiteful pains that emitted from where the glass had shallowly penetrated your scalp. “Alright, I’ll let her know. And I was thinking...” he waited for a moment to continue, being encouraged by the crease between his brow line.

“What if we stay in Wakanda, and we leave all this behind? We can still see people when they visit, and we can just, have some calm to ourselves. No missions, no aliens to fight, and no Zemo to chase. Or I was thinking, we go and live by Sarah, you love those kids, they’re basically your nephews, and we could take boat rides during the middle of the night, and help the people who live there, and...”

At his rambling, you smiled beneath the plastic system that was around your mouth, listening to him talk and talk about your future together. Yes, you missed missions, but you would give all that up for a normal and easy life, with Bucky Barnes.

590 notes · View notes

yumeyooa · 3 years

Text

bippity-boppity bloom: act one | todoroki shoto

—everyone knows the story of cinderella, saved by a prince and a glass slipper. but what if the true hero wasn’t the prince, but rather the fairy god mother? todoroki shoto has been suffering under the hands of his wicked family his whole life, yet everything changes when he meets you: a fairy forced to take care of him as punishment. will the odds be in your favor? or will everything go down from here on out?

➢ pairing: todoroki shoto x female! reader

➢ word count: 15.2k+

➢ love letter: henlo!! i am late but this is for @milktyama ‘s once upon an alternative universe collab!! originally this was supposed to be a one-shot, but i eventually realized that it would be better if this was split into two! although most of the romance comes in the second part T_T i hope you like it and let me know what you think!!

➢ taglist (send an ask to be tagged): @loveinhaikyuu @mirakeul @strcwberrieswine @kunaigirlx44 @maxzinn @faewraithsworld

navigation | anime masterlist | act two

Magic was a curious thing.

Since the dawn of time, people have used magic to describe the unknown, to give meaning to the things they could not explain. That quarter you lost suddenly showing up at your feet? Magic. An electric jolt shooting through your veins after coming into contact with another? Magic. Flowers blooming amidst the cold winter? Magic.

No matter where you went or what you did, magic was everywhere. It hid itself from the world, waiting in silence for those who would come to know the beauty of it. Those who would cherish it with all their heart and soul and would never abuse it for their own selfish gain.

To the rest of the world, magic was something they could only wish to find.

But the true secret of magic remained hidden in the arms of those who could wield it.

“Don’t tell me you’re pranking someone again?” An exasperated sigh calls from behind you, and you turn around, startled to find a young man with deep violet hair haphazardly framing his face. He was staring at you with an unimpressed look as if he had gone through this exact situation plenty of times in the past, and from the way you sheepishly smile back at him, he probably had.

“Me? Pranking Someone? Why I would never!” You exclaim, faking innocence as the man gives you a knowing look, causing a groan to fall from your lips as you heave a sigh, throwing a playful glare back his way.

“Oh, come on, Hitoshi!” You whine, rolling your eyes in fake annoyance. “What harm can one prank do? It’s not even that bad!”

“Must I remind you what happened that one time you decided to prank Elder Aizawa?” You freeze in your place, looking at him like a deer caught in the headlights. “He nearly convinced the council of elders to have you banished to the human realm! Do you not understand how grave that could have been?”

You remain silent, sulking. As much as you hated to admit it, your best friend had a point. To fairies, being banished was like a death sentence. Without any support from the all-powerful tree of life, a fairy would wither away and die just like that. It was scary to even think about it, and you were lucky that Hitoshi had somehow managed to save you from that terrible predicament.

From the very beginning, you had always been considered a peculiarity amongst the other fairies. Whereas they were graceful and elegant, you were clumsy and awkward. Where they excelled in soft chatter and gentle smiles, you reveled in chaos and the undignified.

You were an outcast amongst the fairies, but you honestly couldn’t blame them.

Fairies were the keepers of magic, after all. They were expected to uphold a particular image befitting of being wielders of the most sacred entity provided by the tree of life. Fairies were supposed to be noble and delicate. They were supposed to hold their heads up high as protectors of the supernatural. That very image, however, didn’t suit you at all.

You never understood it. Why did they take pride in being so uptight? It was boring. There was no freedom in upholding the elegance of their kind through every single thing they did. They seemed so bare as if being a fairy sucked all the life out of them. Which was ironic, considering they were supposed to be protectors of the tree of life.

“—(Y/N)? Are you even listening to me? Hello?” You snap out of your trance, looking at your friend who was staring at you with a nonchalant look on his face. Hitoshi has always been a rather unique character, even to you. He didn’t explicitly fit into the stereotypical image of a fairy, yet he was never ostracized for it. It was as if he was an exception— an anomaly from the harsh judgment of the fairy realm.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” You ask, trying to come off as if you were paying attention when in all actuality, you weren’t. Hitoshi sighs, rolling his eyes playfully as he ruffles your head, messing up your hair in the process, causing a grunt of protest to fall from your lips. He sits beside you on the ledge you were perched atop on, staring down at the crowd of fairies below.

The two of you were apprentices to the council of elders, helping them ensure that there was order amongst the fairies. Order was essential for the protectors of the tree of life because, without it, chaos would ensue, and the world, no, the entire universe, would fall apart. The council of elders was the supreme government of the fairy world, and to be an apprentice to even one of them, was a great honor and responsibility.

You just hated all the expectations that came with it.

“What kind of prank were you supposed to play this time?” Hitoshi asks, humming as he stares up at the sky above you. You stare at the wand in your hand, puffing your cheeks in disappointment at the realization that you wouldn’t be able to pull the prank off anymore.

“Nothing much,” you mutter. “Just wanted to test out some new spells I learned the other day, and I figured why not test it out on some… unsuspecting figures.”

“(Y/N),” Hitoshi says, voice stern as if he were a mother reprimanding his child. You huff, pout forming on your lips. “You know that if any of the other elders were to find out, they’d have your apprenticeship stripped away. What would you do then?”

You stay silent, the truth in Hitoshi’s words stinging painfully, more than it should. He was right. Shunned away from your family since your coming of age, the council of elders was the only one who had accepted you, albeit reluctantly. No fairy wanted to be associated with an outcast after all. It would only tarnish that pure image they had crafted into perfection, and as prideful beings, they couldn’t have that.

If it wasn’t for Elder Yagi, the most influential fairy in the realm, then you would have been left for dead. Elder Yagi was the definition of the perfect fairy. He wasn’t just delicate and graceful on the surface; he was kind and compassionate within. Although many disagreed with his views on accepting those who didn’t fit into society’s expectations, they could never truly go against him. Because that would be like going against the very essence of fairies, after all.

So they kept their malice and disdain a secret, waiting for the perfect moment to strike, and if you weren’t careful, then their next victim would be you.

“The elders are calling for you,” Hitoshi says out of the blue, causing your blood to run cold. You stare at him with a shocked expression on your face, and you couldn’t deny the fear that was beginning to bubble within. “Elder Aizawa sent me to look for you. Said they requested your presence immediately.”

There’s a solemn look on Hitoshi’s face, and you can tell beyond the surface that he’s worried. Being called upon by the council of elders meant only one of two things to a fairy: it was either they were to be punished, or they were to be rewarded. And you had done nothing of the sort to deserve a just reward.

You chuckle, looking down at your lap, not knowing what to say. You didn’t understand why what you did was so wrong. Why were they trying to punish you when all you wanted was to bring life into this otherwise dull place? No matter how hard they tried to hide it, some fairy children enjoyed your pranks, and the thought of bringing smiles to their faces was what kept you going.

You just didn’t expect to get severely punished for it, though.

“Thanks for telling me, Hitoshi,” you say, standing up, a fake smile plastered on your face in an attempt to seem as if his recent news didn’t bother you as much as it did. “Guess I better get going then, wouldn’t want Elder Aizawa to scold me for being late again.”

Hitoshi remains silent, staring up at you with an unreadable expression before letting out a sigh, standing up and ruffling your hair once more. “Stop putting up a brave face, idiot. It doesn’t suit you.” You want to protest but can’t find the courage to do so, remaining silent as the smile falls from your face. “Come on, I’ll accompany you there.”

Shocked, you look up at him, features clearly showing your surprise. “What?” He asks, scoffing. “You really think I wouldn’t accompany you to your death? You know that I’d kill to see it happen in front of my very eyes.”

You know he’s joking, trying to lighten up the mood because the nerves running through you are too much to handle. But even so, you’re grateful for it. Despite not being outright honest about it, Hitoshi still cared. He had cared for you ever since you called out one of the other fairies for calling him a disgrace the moment you first met. He had stuck with you through thick and thin and had been the only fairy to believe in you, aside from Elder Yagi.

And you couldn’t be any more grateful for it.

“Weirdo,” you call, a genuine smile forming on your lips, Hitoshi reflecting his own, albeit his was a lot less noticeable. You take a deep breath, trying to calm down the nerves that were thrumming deep beneath your skin, and nod to Hitoshi, the two of you teleporting just outside the auditorium of the council of elders.

You had always hated the auditorium. It was a dark and scary place, dimly lit, with all of the elders present atop a high porch, staring down at you like you were some inferior being to them. Whenever you were in the dark room, assisting the elders in their work, you always felt the paranoia creep up against you, begging you to just run and leave the room, even when there was no immediate danger present.

That was the effect the council of elders had always possessed since the beginning— intimidation. And you hated them for it.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the raging waves of nervousness that were thrashing wildly deep inside you. You’re shaking. You can see it in the way your hands shiver as you reach out to place a knock on the wooden doors, hesitating.

“You’ll be fine,” Hitoshi whispers, a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “No matter what happens, I’ll be here, yeah?”

It’s comforting. Hitoshi isn’t one for words and prefers to show his care through subtle actions, but you know he means well. Taking another deep breath, you give your best friend a weak smile, knocking on the doors, heart heavy.

Like magic, they open, and a deep “come in” calls out to you, causing you to gulp as you nod one final time to Hitoshi before entering the auditorium, with a hopeful heart dangling on the edge of light and darkness.

The Council of Elders truly had a knack for intimidation, you think to yourself as you stare up at the seven fairies that governed the world you had come to know. They sat atop their seats (which looked more like thrones, in your opinion), staring down at you with glares on their faces.

While you had expected their hostility towards you, as you didn’t exactly have the best reputation amongst their apprentices, you were surprised that even Elder Yagi, your mentor, and father figure, was looking at you with a disappointed gaze. What was going on? What had you done wrong?

It’s then, amidst your confusion, that your eyes land on another figure present in the room. The very presence of this figure makes your blood boil in anger, and you try to suppress it with deep breaths, closing your eyes to calm yourself before meeting eyes with the said figure.

Neito. Oh, how you despised the man. Neito was one of your fellow apprentices who served the Council of Elders, specifically Elder Sekijiro, who was in charge of the vanguard— the elite force of fairies that specialized in defense, ensuring that there was peace and order in the world.

While it was an honorable position, Neito was not an honorable man in the slightest. Ever since you had met him, he had been mean and downright evil, taunting you every chance he got. He was the very reason you had gotten into trouble, multiple times, with the council. He was your mortal enemy, your archnemesis, the man you wished would fall into a puddle of shit and never come back the same.

If he was there in the room, then it only meant one thing. He had ratted you out or had made up some ridiculous story to use against you.

Typical.

Oh, how you wished you could wipe that ridiculous smirk off his face.

“(Y/N),” a voice booms and your eyes turn up to meet Grand Elder Nezu, the elder amongst all elders, the wisest and most potent fairy ever known (much to the disbelief of everyone else, as compared to Elder Yagi, Elder Nezu looked weak. But, you supposed, you shouldn’t judge someone based on appearance alone).

“I bow towards the Council of Elders,” you greet, bowing in respect. Your heart thrummed nervously within you, not sure what to think of this summon. What were they going to reprimand you for this time?

“Are you aware of the reason you’ve been summoned here today?” Grand Elder Nezu asks, looking at you with calculating eyes. You gulp, not knowing how to proceed, but figured that in a situation like this, honesty was the best policy. “Unfortunately, no, Grand Elder,” you reply, eyes cast down in respect. “I have an idea, but even so, I am still clueless to the true reason as to why I’ve been summoned.”

“Ha!” Neito exclaims, scoffing. “Look at how shameless she is, Grand Elder. Pretending to not know when she knows exactly what she’s done?”

“I beg your pardon?” You ask, feeling yourself get annoyed the more Neito stood there all high and mighty as if he were some chosen one. “I speak the truth, elders. I truly have no idea why I’ve been summoned….”

“Lies!” Neito accuses, pointing a finger at you. “How can you be so shameless after attacking me?”

You pause, blinking slowly as you try to process the ridiculous claim Neito had just presented. You? Attacking him? As much as you despised the guy, you knew that attacking another fairy was absolutely forbidden for an apprentice of the council of elders. You weren’t stupid.

“Attacking you?” You ask in disbelief. “When have I ever attacked you, Neito?”

You watch with cautious eyes as Neito smirks at you, eyes taunting as if you had played right into his trap. He grabs the hem of his dress shirt before pulling it up to reveal a massive bruise on his torso.

“You did this,” he accuses, and you can tell he’s faking it, although judging by the harsh glare you’re receiving from Elder Sekijiro, his act is actually believable. Were the elders really that vulnerable? “You attacked me because you were jealous of my achievements!”

You gape at him, not believing your eyes at the pure monstrosity that was the situation you were facing him. What kind of story was this? There was no way that the council of elders actually believed him, right? Their view of you wasn’t that bad, right?

“(Y/N),” Grand Elder Nezu calls, eyes stern. “Is this true?”

“Of course not, Grand Elder!” You exclaim in protest. “What reason do I have to be jealous of Neito?”

“Don’t listen to her lies, Grand Elder!” Neito says. With the way he was acting, you swear he could get an award for being the worst and best actor of all time, and you yourself weren’t sure how that was possible. “In fact, the question we should be asking is what reason does she have to not be jealous of me? She’s an outcast. She’s been shunned by society for so long. Everyone knows she hates my guts— although I do not understand why as I’ve been nothing but nice to her— so why would she not want to sabotage me when she sees me excel?”

Scratch that best actor award, you think to yourself. The darn idiot deserved an award for being an expert manipulator. If you didn’t know better, if you weren’t sure of your truth, you would have been swayed by his words, second-guessing yourself and questioning whether or not you did attack him. But unluckily for Neito, you were one stubborn fairy, and you wouldn’t go down without a fight.

“You? Nice to me?” you say, seething, much to the shock of everyone in the room. “Grand Elder, what Neito is saying is absolutely preposterous! Yes, it is true that I hate his guts, but that’s because ever since I’ve been an apprentice, he’s made my life a living hell! And besides, this apprenticeship is all I have. If I do anything to jeopardize it, I would have nowhere to go; I’d basically be dead. Why would I risk it because of one person? And Neito, for that matter!”

You honestly didn’t mean to let your emotions slip like that. But you couldn’t help it. It infuriated you that the council would be willing to believe Neito. Neito who had everything, who had a choice to leave or not, who had a family to return to. Neito who didn’t understand how much pain you were going through, how much torment plagued your heart. He didn’t and would never understand. That’s what privilege does to a person.

“Grand Elder—” Neito begins, and you swear if he spits any more lies, you would genuinely launch at him and smack him in the face. But before you could make a move, the Grand Elder raises his hand, causing silence to settle in the room.

“—Enough.” Grand Elder Nezu’s voice booms throughout the empty room, causing the two of you to halt in your banter, bowing in shame and obedience. “The council has heard both sides and are appalled by the disgrace exuded by both fairies, especially you young Neito.”

You can see the way Neito clenches his fist, glaring at the ground below him, and you can almost imagine the way he thinks the floor is your head, glaring daggers at it for causing him to be criticized by the grand elder of all fairies. But that was the least of your concerns, as you can feel their disappointed glances lying on you as well.

“For your misconduct, both of you will receive punishment. However, young (Y/N), because of your alleged behavior and misdeeds, we will have to take extra precautions to ensure that this does not happen again.” You can feel your heart beating rapidly within your chest. What kind of punishment was he going to give? You hoped you weren’t going to get banished because you couldn’t stand the thought of not having to see the people you cherished ever again.

But whatever the council says, goes, and no fairy, no matter how powerful they were in society, could deny their final verdict.

“For your punishment, young Neito, you will be serving under Elder Aizawa until the Purification Ceremony next fall.” From where you stood, you could see Neito jolt up in fear, eyes pleading with the Grand Elder silently, as if he were begging them to give him any other punishment instead.

Elder Aizawa was the dean of the academy all fairies were expected to graduate from. And, as a dean should, he was incredibly strict and was known for ruling over his apprentices with an iron fist. Amongst all the elders of the council, he was the one most hoped to avoid serving under, and if you were sent to serve under him, then it meant that you had done something extremely bad.

Although, sometimes you could hardly believe those rumors, considering Hitoshi himself served under Elder Aizawa. But perhaps that was because the said elder treated Hitoshi like he was his own son, much like Elder Yagi did to you.

As much as Neito wanted to protest, to exclaim how preposterous it was for a fairy from the noble family of Monoma to not serve through the vanguard, he couldn’t. The elders’ eyes pierced through him, and it was incredibly nerve-wracking once he felt the menacing glare of Elder Sekijiro on him. Even his own master thought he deserved to be punished. What a shame.

With his head bowed low, Neito grits his teeth, bowing towards the council. “I humbly accept this punishment bestowed upon me by the Council of Elders and pledge to fulfill it until I am deemed worthy once more.” His words contain malice, and you can tell he was trying to control himself from lashing out and making the situation even worse. It was a blow to his pride, after all, that he would get punished after trying to bring someone ‘beneath’ him down.

Just as he’s about to take his leave, he stops beside you, and it almost feels as if he’s glaring at your soul, cursing it for the things you’ve done to him, although reality has proved that you’ve done nothing wrong. “Just you wait,” he whispers, low enough for only you to hear. “I’ll get you back someday,” and then he leaves, closing the wooden doors shut behind him.

The silence that envelopes the auditorium is uncanny, you think to yourself. Maybe it was because you were still getting the chills from the words Neito had whispered into your ear. Or perhaps it was because of the unreadable yet at the same time uncomfortable stares the council was throwing your way. Either way, the silence made you want to drown. To hide in the comforts of your room and stay there until the coast was clear.

“Young (Y/N),” Grand Elder Nezu begins, and you gulp, hoping for the best yet expecting the worst. “As for your punishment, you will be reassigned to another group of apprentice fairies under my guidance— the god fairies.”

What?

...God Fairies?

Grand Elder Nezu smiles softly at the look on your face before clearing his throat and continuing, trusting that you would be able to keep up with him. In his eyes, you were a rather intelligent fairy after all. Strange, but brilliant nonetheless.

“The God Fairies are a special elite force of apprentices under my supervision. It’s composed of fairies deemed problematic by the standards of our society and utilizes their uniqueness to serve our realm for the better good.”

You wanted to scoff. Rather than an elite force, it sounded like a group of slaves forced to listen to the Grand Elder, with an even more severe punishment dangling above their heads. A suiting sentence disguised as an honor.

“I know what you’re thinking, young (Y/N),” Grand Elder Nezu says with a knowing look. “However, this elite force is infinitely more important than any other group in the fairy realm, as they help sustain our influence over the humans.”

Confused, you look up to him, a million questions dancing within your eyes. Influence over humans? What exactly did he mean by that? Back at the academy, the older fairies had always taught you that humans and fairies never, under any circumstance, interacted with each other. It was forbidden. Interacting with humans was too dangerous as they were greedy and vile beings who would only seize magic for their own selfish gain should they even catch one whiff of it.

Magic was not meant to fall into human hands. That was just the way the world worked. So why was the Grand Elder telling you otherwise?

“The God Fairies help ensure that the humans’ belief in magic remains strong,” Grand Elder Nezu continues, even though you were still trying to comprehend what he had said prior. He couldn’t afford to waste any more time. Being the Grand Elder had numerous responsibilities involved, and those responsibilities waited for no one, not even him.

“You see, young (Y/N), as the years have passed, we, the council, have come across an alarming discovery,” you look up to the council tentatively, choosing to merely listen as trying to process their words in real time was proving to be complicated. “The tree of life that we have grown to cherish for over a millennium has weakened.”

A soft gasp leaves your lips, and rightfully so. The tree of life was the lifeline of the fairies. It was literally their world, giving life to everything they had ever come to know. The tree of life was what made fairies, fairies, providing them with their gorgeous translucent wings and copious amount of magic to have every other supernatural being out there jealous.

If it were to weaken and somehow die, then that would mean the end of the fairies. And that was a thought even more terrifying than the prospect of banishment.

“Fear not, young (Y/N),” This time, Elder Yagi decides to speak up, sensing the inherent panic and fear in your eyes. Elder Yagi always had a knack for reading your emotions, much like Hitoshi. Sometimes you wondered if that chalked up to you wearing your heart on your sleeve for everyone else to easily trample over, but that hadn’t been the case the more you got to know Elder Yagi and Hitoshi.

They both took your heart within their arms and cherished it like it was their own, even if the way they showed that care differed and was sometimes unnoticeable. Elder Yagi’s words, masked by his usual patriotic smile, were his way of comforting you when the going got rough. And for that, you would forever be thankful.

“We’ve discovered a new way to harness the magic we fairies so desperately need,” Elder Yagi continues, his smile never leaving. “And that solution lies in the humans.”

The moment the word human leaves Elder Yagi’s mouth, Elder Aizawa sneers in disgust, rolling his eyes, and from the opposite side of him, you can see Elder Sekijiro do the same. It wasn’t something new. After all, with the divide and disdain of the fairies towards fellow fae who wouldn’t live up to their noble standards, their disgust was only further amplified with the knowledge that other inferior beings, such as humans, existed. Even with their inferiority, they were beginning to push the fairies to the brink of a calamity with how much they were destroying the order of nature.

So you understood that there was an even greater prejudice towards humans, and you could feel nothing but sympathy and agony, knowing precisely what it feels like to be on the receiving end of such animosity.

“The humans,” Elder Yagi continues, not paying much mind to the disheartened expressions on his fellow elders’ (with the exception of the Grand Elder) faces. “Surprisingly, have an innate source of magic within them, much different from our own.”

Confused, you look up at the kind elder, allowing yourself to show a little emotion with the way he looks down kindly at you as if he were a father talking towards his child. Elder Yagi had always guided you when you felt lost amidst the noble fairies that served under the council and was more than happy to help you with whatever you needed.

Yet, currently, Elder Yagi was the main source of your confusion.

“When a human begins to believe in the supernatural, their innate magic ability awakens and pours out of them like waves, and when they sustain that belief? That innate magic becomes stronger.” It’s a revolutionary discovery, in your eyes. Humans had always been thought of as useless. But more than that, the council had constantly reminded the fairies to stray away from them, as no one knows what hidden malice the humans could have, despite the disbelief of your fellow fae.

“This is why we have formed the God Fairies, to ensure that the humans’ magic will be sustained and harnessed for our survival.” Elder Yagi looks at you, and you feel yourself flinch at the serious glance on his face, something that you knew wasn’t usual for the strong fairy. “Do you understand, young (Y/N)?”

The only thing you have the courage to do at the moment is nod, not trusting the thoughts that were lit ablaze in your mind, chaotic and unhinged. You knew that if you were to speak, your words would have most likely enraged the council as you currently had no control over them.

“Good.” Grand Elder Nezu says after a few moments of silence. “In line with this, we will be assigning you, young (Y/N), to a human. Your punishment, or in this case, mission is to ensure that you’ve collected enough magic to sustain a family of fairies the same size as Young Neito’s.”

Your eyes widen, and you divert your attention towards Elder Yagi, begging him to say that the Grand Elder’s words were not true. But when you see Elder Aizawa sport a sinister grin from the corner of your eye, you feel your heart sink. As much as you hated Neito, he was a powerful fairy who came from a highly influential family within the realm. It was the reason why he was in the vanguard. After all, his family’s influence has been his threshold throughout the days you knew each other.

And for a family as prominent in magical combat as his, they needed copious amounts of magic. An amount that you were sure couldn’t be collected by one fairy. In fact, the powerful fairies of the realm often sourced their innate magic directly from the elders themselves, a privilege that not many were able to enjoy.

This was a punishment, after all. Great. Just Great.

“I understand, Grand Elder,” you say after finally composing yourself. You can feel the dread gradually sink in, and your mind races with worry at the thought of having to go through the daunting task. “I will do as you desire. For the glory of the fae.”

You can sense the satisfied yet cunning smiles of the council, pleased with your decision, and you heave a sigh, unsure of what the future could have in store.

You could only hope that you wouldn’t be screwed over in the process.

The human realm was fascinating, to say the least.

When you first stepped foot on the lush forest of the realm, just on the outskirts of a bustling city, you couldn’t help but feel amazed. No amount of preparation from the elders or your friends could truly prepare you for this moment.

For the past few weeks, Grand Elder Nezu and Elder Yagi had been preparing you extensively for this mission. They briefed you on the does and don’ts of a fairy entering the human realm, bragged about other god fairies who had succeeded in securing a sustainable amount of magic for the fairies, and just boasted.

There was no comfort nor reassurance from either elder, which you had expected from Elder Yagi, but as you had come to find out, it seemed as if your father figure was still disappointed in you, causing your heart to sink. Did he really believe that you deserved to be punished?

You couldn’t even get this heavy feeling out of your chest. The worst part is that you couldn’t consult your best friend, Hitoshi, at all about this matter. Hitoshi had no knowledge of the god fairies as he had been a devout apprentice under Elder Aizawa’s care. He had no reason to know about it, he was already doing great, and that thought made your stomach churn.

You desperately wanted to confide in him, to spill your fears and anxieties for him to hear. No matter how insufferable Hitoshi was, he was a great listener and a great friend.

Gosh, you haven’t even spent one second in the Human Realm, and you were already feeling sick to your core.

At least the view made it better.

The council of elders had decided to assign you to a human living in the Musutafu Empire, nestled in the far east of the mortal realm. The Empire was drastically different from your own simple abode back in the fairy realm. Whereas yours was deeply rooted in nature, theirs was thriving on industrial roots.

You couldn’t explain it, but the way they structured their buildings and houses was beautiful. It was a whole different style from what you were used to back home, with high walls and rowdy streets. The people were smiling, clad in clothing that was tight yet loose at the same time, with a ribbon wrapped securely around their waists. Far different from the flowy garments that you had back in the fairy realm.

As you made your way to the capital, marveling at all the new sights that were capturing your eyes, you couldn’t help but wonder what the human assigned to you was like. Would he be stuck up like all the fairies you had come to know? Or would he be kind, much like Elder Yagi and Hitoshi were? The curiosity burned deep inside you, and you found yourself brimming with excitement at the thought of meeting him.

Your mission was fairly simple if you could take away the fact that you had to harvest an impossible amount of magic. You were to watch over a selected human, who the council deemed had the potential to unlock their innate magic and help them when they most needed it.

Almost as if you were someone who granted wishes, was what Grand Elder Nezu said. Granting wishes was the most effective way to strengthen the human’s belief in magic, allowing their own to flow out for the taking. Of course, there were other ways, such as haunting the humans or causing supernatural disasters that didn’t make sense. But such methods were unbecoming of fairies, and you couldn’t help but groan at the thought.

Haunting seemed fun, after all. Almost as if you were constantly playing a prank on an unassuming human. You would have killed for that to be your punishment instead.

But no. You were stuck with granting wishes, albeit not as often, as showing too much magic mind taint the human with greed and desire. Something that no fairy wanted.

Checking on the special compass that the elders had given you prior to your journey, you make your way towards your assigned human, gaping in awe at the view of the capital down below you. Of course, with the magic you held, they wouldn’t be able to see you as you had concealed yourself prior, but you wished they could. It would have been fun to see their shell-shocked expressions. Maybe that was a more efficient way of harnessing their magic?

Or, rather than being an efficient method, it was most likely going to be a one-way ticket to banishment from the fairy realm, aka an express ride towards death, something you wanted to avoid at all costs.

Finally, after what felt like forever, you spot the house of the human the elders had assigned to you. It was big, much larger than your own humble cottage back in the fairy realm, yet, even so, it didn’t compare to the ginormous estates that lay north of the house, almost as if it belonged perfectly in the middle.

You gasped at the tranquility of the mansion, almost as if you had once again been transported into another world. It was almost as if in this home, time stopped, and peace overflowed. You perched yourself atop a sturdy branch, looking around and admiring the view.

But peace doesn’t last for long because all of a sudden, a slam rings through the air, and you watch curiously as a large man, who oddly enough looks similar to Elder Sekijiro, although that was probably a figment of your imagination, there was no way the frightening elder would actually be in the human realm, stumbles into view.

The large man looked pissed, you noticed, as he dragged something behind him, and it’s only till the large man threw whatever he was carrying harshly unto the tree you were perched on did you realize that what the man had dragged wasn’t just a thing, but rather it was a person.

You gasp, heart breaking at the sight of the young boy. From where you sat above him, you could tell that he was covered with bruises all over, with a ghastly scar covering one of his eyes. The poor boy looked so weak and frail that you wanted nothing more than to steal the boy away and tend to him until he could stand on his own two feet one more. It was cruel. Was this the doing of that man?

You look up, and it’s only then that you notice a few more children looking at the scene below you with different expressions on their faces. There were about three of them; two boys and one girl. The tallest and assumably the eldest had an unbothered look on his face as if he couldn’t care less about the poor boy who had just been thrown into a three. The second boy, with snow-white hair, sported a sadistic grin as if he were enjoying seeing the young boy in pain. And the girl? The girl, who looked so sweet and innocent, held eyes of pure disgust as she clutched her teddy bear tighter to her chest, almost as if she were glaring at the young boy.

Was this the kid’s family?

“Shoto!” The large man, whom you had deduced to be the father, screamed. You flinch at the loudness of his voice, intimidation flowing out of him in waves, causing a shiver to run down your spine. You look down, heart hurting at the sight of the young boy cowering in fear, but he still kept a brave face. Well, as much as he could do in that situation.

“You dare disobey your brother?” He continues, tone raising more and more as his fists clench. “How many times have I told you to listen to your siblings? They’re much older, stronger, and smarter than a little piece of shit like you. Heck, even Fuyumi, who’s a girl, is much more dignified than your pathetic ass!”

The more words fell from the man’s mouth, the more you wished to hex him with forbidden magic. Although doing so would only make your punishment worse. The elders were strict about black magic, after all. Anyone who even showed a little bit of interest was considered a threat and was sent to conduct punishments almost immediately. It was cruel, but you were on wit’s end because nowhere had you seen a vile man like him.

“It’s true, father!” The second sibling says, the sinister grin on his lips only growing. “I had asked Shoto nicely to help with my chores because I wanted to get more practice in for the royal knights’ examination, but he had the audacity to retaliate with the excuse that he already had chores to do.” The kid scoffs, rolling his eyes in the process. “He barely does anything in this house, yet he’s a burden to those of us who actually are? Father, he deserves punishment!”

There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach as if you were getting deja vu from this situation. The look on that kid’s face painfully reminded you of Neito, and you couldn’t help the gut feeling that made you believe that what the kid was saying was far from the truth.

“Shameful!” The father says, raising a hand to slap the young child to the side, and you gasp in horror wanting nothing more to interfere, yet the Grand Elder’s words ring harshly in your ear. There needs to be a balance. He had said. It would plunge the realms into total chaos if more than one human discovered the reality of magic simultaneously, especially those with foul intentions.

You couldn’t reveal yourself, not yet, at least. Yet, at the same time, you wanted to curse the elders back home, for they had assigned to you a child who was literally experiencing hell on earth and only gave you limited movement to help.

You watch, feeling the tears threaten to fall as the damn bastard of a father lands another punch towards his son, to the point where he begins to cough blood. Your eyes widen in horror as you hear the other children’s cheers. Why were they like this? Weren’t they family? Why were they treating one of their own like he wasn’t? He didn’t deserve this. He was only but a child!

When the father was finally finished with his rain of terror, you couldn’t help but release the breath you were holding in. Finally, it was over. But as if he couldn’t get any worse, the father towers over him, blue eyes boring into his kids. “If I see any of these bruises and wounds healed,” he whispers just enough for only Shoto to hear, but with your heightened senses, you couldn’t help but listen in. “Then you will get a beating far worse than this one. Do you understand?”

The kid nods weakly, not having the strength to communicate properly, causing the father to glare at him harder. “You are a disgrace to the Todoroki name, Shoto. Never forget that.”

And just like that, he leaves, the children following closely behind with mocking looks on their faces. The second sibling even goes so far as to spit on his youngest brother, causing you to clench your fists in anger, wanting to teach that kid a lesson. What kind of twisted personality did he have? Why was he treating his family like this? You just couldn’t understand.

When they finally leave, leaving the young kid on the rough ground, wallowing in his misery and pain, you find it in yourself to come down and take action. What action, you may ask? You weren’t quite sure yourself, but every fiber in your being was begging you to do something to help the poor child.

You kneel beside the beaten-up boy, weaving your hand through his dirtied hair. The boy looked like he hadn’t even been given an ounce of care throughout his life. How could this be? Wasn’t a family supposed to love each other? But you knew yourself that not all families were like that, only the lucky ones.

The world, no matter what realm you were in, was cruel and cold to those who didn’t fit in, to those that made them feel sick. Within your heart, you knew exactly what the young child was feeling, although only to a certain extent as it could never compare to the feeling of getting beaten up by the people you were supposed to love on a day-to-day basis.

But you too had been abandoned, you too had been ridiculed, and you knew how much that pain could carry through the rest of one’s life. The pain never truly goes away. It would only get buried, waiting for the moment it could come back to life. And if that pain was prolonged? Then that would only make things worse.

So you decided, with a firm grip on your heart, that until you had to leave, you would be there for this child. More than punishment, more than a duty you had to fulfill, you would be there for him until the very end.

That was a promise.

Todoroki Shoto had never known love.

For as long as he could remember, ever since the day he was born, his family had hated him. For what reason? He couldn’t quite comprehend, but now that he was a bit older, he understood to some extent.

His birth had caused his mother to die.

It was something that his family reminded him of every day. Whenever his brother, Natsuo, forced him to do his share of chores, he would always add in a snarky remark saying how it was the least he could do since he took his mother away from him. It hurt, but he couldn’t argue. It was the truth, after all. Him being born into the world had caused their own mother to leave it. It was only natural for his family to hate him.

From what he had heard, his mother was a very kind woman. With the same snow-white hair that covered half of his head, Todoroki Rei was known to be an angel. She was kind, always selflessly showing her love, and in turn, everyone loved her for it. She was the life of the party, even though she was frail, and never failed to make everyone around her smile. She was what one would consider the embodiment of good.

And Shoto had taken her away from them.

Everyone in the Todoroki household hated him, even the servants. How dare a useless child like him take away their mistress? How dare he live on as if nothing was wrong when he was the very reason that the light of the Todoroki household dimmed out. He was a despicable child in the eyes of everyone else, one that never deserved love.

So they fed him moldy bread and spoiled milk, rotten fruits, and water that was clearly full of filth. They wanted him to die, to pay for taking their mistress away from them. And no one in his family ever stood up for him.

His eldest brother Touya never even spoke to him. It was as if he was actively trying to ignore the kid. Whenever Shoto went up to talk to his brother, he would simply pass him by as if Shoto didn’t even exist. Yet whenever Shoto would catch peeks of the family eating a nice supper over the dinner table, his brother was actively engaging in conversation, causing an arrow to go through his heart at the realization that Touya truly did intend to ignore him.

His second brother, Natsuo, was no better. The only difference was that he actively tried to make Shoto’s life a living hell more than it already was. Natsuo took all his anger and grief out on the young child with snarky remarks and condescending tones. There was even a slap on the cheek every now and then, to which he would complain that it was Shoto who assaulted him, even though it was far from the truth. And everyone would believe him. Because who would believe the words of a child whose birth meant the death of another?

Then there was Fuyumi, his only sister. She sported that same gentle nature as his mother, according to the house servants, yet to Shoto, she was a wicked and cruel child. She was petty, treating Shoto as if he were a slave. When her favorite tea was too hot for her liking, she spilled the scalding hot drink all over him, soon after berating and slapping him for letting the said liquid fall onto her plush carpet. It made no sense, but Shoto could never complain. Fuyumi was the darling of the family, after all.

But his father? He was the worst of them all.

Todoroki Enji was a curious man, to say the least. As one of the leading figures of the oldest families of the Musutafu Empire, his very presence brought tremendous waves of awe among the masses. The Todoroki family was one of the most revered families in the whole empire, and everyone had always looked up to them, seeing them as the perfect family.

But Todoroki Enji had taken that image of perfection into heart, and it showed through the things he did behind closed doors. Rei’s death hit him the hardest, not because he was heartbroken that his other half died, but rather it was because that image of perfection had been broken into pieces, and he loathed it. He hated the pitiful gazes of the masses, as they stared at him as if he wasn’t the perfect being they needed him to be. It enraged him to no end. And the only outlet of this burning rage was the cause of all this brokenness, his own son.

Everything Shoto did angered him. Even taking a breath angered him. Every action, look, and word that came from the young child infuriated the head of the house, and he couldn’t help but take it out on him. Treating Shoto like he wasn’t a child but rather an enemy on the battlefield. Every day he would ruthlessly beat Shoto up until he felt satisfied, leaving Shoto battered and bruised with no chance of recovery. It was terrible, something anyone with a heart would hate, yet all those who resided in the Todoroki Mansion thrived on his misery.

So yeah, all his life, Todoroki Shoto had never known love.

But when he feels a hand gently caress his face, brushing his dirtied hair off of his face and running a thumb over his bruising cheek, he wonders if maybe this was it. Whoever was touching him had such a gentle and soft touch, a touch that he’s never felt before in his life. It was warm, far different from the cold caresses of his family. He wanted nothing more than to stay in the comfort of this warmth. But what if this was just a figment of his imagination?

He opens his eyes slowly, bearing through the pain and heaviness that came with it, and his gaze meets yours, and he’s blown away.

Your eyes look at him with sincere kindness, one that Shoto has never seen before in his life. He’s only been alive for a few years or so, and he can tell that this was what was right. Not his family, not the servants treating him with extreme hostility. No, you, a stranger he had never seen in his entire life, was already treating him way better than the whole world would ever treat him. And it had only been a few seconds since his eyes met yours.

“W-who…” he stutters, blinking wearily as if he wanted to get a closer look, but you shush him with gentle whispers, continuing to weave your hands through his dual-colored hair that looked stunning under the sunlight, even if it was smeared to no end.

“Shh, don’t speak, child,” you say, motherly instincts that you were unaware of surfacing. “You are injured. Speaking will only make it worse.”

Shoto nods, staying silent as you continue to run your fingers through his hair. Suddenly a surge of warmth rushes through his body, and he watches amazed as the pain from his father’s beating slowly goes away, even if the bruises didn’t disappear.

“There, that should do the trick!” You say, smiling brightly and voice cheery in an attempt to console the young child. Shoto slowly sits up from where he laid on the hard ground, looking at his hands in awe. How did you do that? How did you make all the pain disappear?

“I apologize,” you say, looking sheepishly at Shoto once you noticed he was staring at his arms in awe. “Your father mentioned that he would hurt you even more if your injuries are healed, so I’m only able to make the physical pain go away, but the wounds remain. I hope that’s alright.”

It’s more than alright, Shoto thinks to himself as he looks at you in awe. Shoto had never felt this alive before. It was as if his energy was restored and multiplied as if the numbness that had accumulated from the years of beating had vanished without a trace.

“Thank you,” he finally says, not having the courage to spill his heart out in fear that you would take his feelings and crush them in the blink of an eye. If Shoto were to be honest, if anyone else aside from the people he had come to know were to berate him more than he already was on a daily basis, then he would truly crumble.

“But… who are you?” He asks, finally coming to his senses. “Why are you here? It’s dangerous. If father finds out, then you—”

“—Do not worry child, I will be fine.” You’re doing better than expected despite the rapid beating of your heart from how nervous you were. You really hated this motherly image you were exuding, wanting nothing more than to be as carefree as you usually were, but first impressions were important, and you had to time things just right.

You smile, looking at Shoto with the kindest gaze you could muster, patting him gently on the head in the process.

“I’m your fairy godmother, after all.”

“F-fairy g-godmother?” Shoto asks, clearly confused. You giggle at his perplexed expression, amused. It was fascinating how the child still seemed to be as innocent despite the harsh realities he had been through. He was a strong human, you supposed. And quite an adorable one too.

“Yes, child,” you say once more, standing up and bringing Shoto up with you, although he stumbles, legs weak from being on the ground for too long, but you’re quick to catch him, giggling once more at the flustered expression on his face.

“I’m your fairy godmother,” you repeat, lines poised and precise like you had been trained to from the Grand Elder. “And as your fairy godmother, I’ll be here to make sure that your pain will be more bearable until you can fly free on your own.”

“Fly?” The young child asks excitedly, eyes beaming. “Will I be able to fly someday?”

“Not in the literal sense, child.” You giggle, the tiny human bringing the weight of the world off your shoulders. It was refreshing to interact with him. Perhaps this was why parents decide to have children. They were oh so loveable when they were young. You could only hope that the pureness of his heart wouldn’t be tainted even further by the harsh reality of his family’s disdain.

“But you’ll understand what I mean very soon,” you say, kneeling down towards his level. “And until then, I’ll be your wings, alright?”

It’s clear that Shoto doesn’t understand a word you’re saying, but that’s alright. He doesn’t need to understand at the moment. He just needs to believe. And from the pure amazement and wonder in his eyes, it looks as if he’s already on a one-way track towards it.

“Now, child, before I send you off, you must remember something very important.” You say, tone a bit sterner as Shoto gulps, nodding his head and turning his full attention towards you. His concerned and slightly worried look on his face makes you want to break your facade and laugh along with him. But this truly was an important matter, and if you didn’t drill it into his brain, then your mission would have been all for naught.

“Under no circumstance, must you tell of my existence to another soul, do you understand?” There’s uncertainty in the child’s gaze as if he doesn’t truly understand the weight of your words, but he nods nonetheless, agreeing. “Not your father,” you continue, hoping to make your point a bit clearer. “Nor your siblings, nor any stranger that you come across. You can’t reveal my existence to anyone, understand? This is a secret between you and me. Can you keep it?”

A beat of silence passes the two of you as Shoto lets the words sink in. He truly doesn’t understand why he can’t tell anyone else about you. It didn’t make sense to him. Weren’t you supposed to make his pain more bearable? Then why couldn’t you do that in the form of mending his relationship with his family? It saddened Shoto because in the few moments you had spent together, in those few minutes he got to know you, Shoto already considered you a friend. His first friend, in fact.

Why couldn’t he show you off?

Maybe it had to do with the fact that you, too, would get punished by his father if he were to reveal your existence. His father was a terrifying man. If he wanted something, then he would get it, no matter how difficult it was to obtain. His father held himself in high regard. And anyone who didn’t fit his standards was considered worthless and useless. If he were to find out that you were associated with him, the failure of the family, then who knows what his father would do to you?

He wouldn’t allow that. He couldn’t allow that. You were the first person to show him kindness, and he couldn’t just let you slip away. That would break him to the point of no return.

“Sure,” Shoto mumbles shyly, a bashful smile forming on his lips. If you didn’t know any better, you wouldn’t have guessed that this child was frequently beaten up by his family, much less hated by them. He seemed like a great kid, who needed a friend to stand by him, and although Grand Elder Nezu and Elder Yagi had strictly advised you against being too attached to your assigned human, you couldn’t help it.

Who were you to ignore such a loveable child?

You smile, the sternness gradually leaving your face, and raise your hand towards him, pinky pointing out. “Promise?” Shoto looks at you before his eyes dart to your outstretched finger, bewildered and unsure.

“This is a pinky promise,” you say, realizing that he didn’t understand what you were trying to do. “When we link our pinkies together like this,” you continue, intertwining your pinky with his and locking them together. “Then that means our promise is sealed in stone and can never ever be broken.”

You give Shoto a small smile, your other hand reaching out to pat his head gently, while Shoto looks at your intertwined pinkies in awe and admiration.

In his haze, you finally stand up, your heightened senses hearing angered footsteps approaching, and you look worriedly at Shoto, hesitant to leave.

“I have to go now,” you say, heartbreaking at the way his expression falls from his face, replaced with a disappointed one.

“But don’t worry, I’ll be back.” You’re quick to reassure him, waving your hands frantically as you give off a sheepish smile. “I’ll be back when you need me the most,” you clarify, panic rushing in as the hurried footsteps become louder.

“Promise?” Shoto asks, stretching out his own pinky to you, reflecting what you had just taught him. This catches you by surprise, but you’re quick to smile, intertwining your pinkies once more.

“I promise,” you genuinely whisper, watching with mirth in your heart as Shoto looks up at you with a warm smile of his own, eyes looking at you tenderly as if he were sending you off.

And just like that, you vanish, much to Shoto’s shock, as the sliding door behind him slams open, and a servant comes out storming towards him angrily. But honestly, Shoto couldn’t care less.

Even as the servant berated him and dragged him harshly back into the mansion, Shoto couldn’t help but feel all warm and giddy inside. He had made his first friend.

And that was more than anything he could ever ask for.

Ever since your first meeting with Shoto, you had begun to grow closer towards the abused child, feeling a connection start to grow.

Of course, you didn’t show yourself to him as often as you wanted to, as you had your own limitations. Because as the council had told you before your departure, they were watching. And that was a frightening thought to ever take for granted.

It was too risky to put your personal desires over your duty at the forefront, so you had to work your way around the rules laid down by the Grand Elder. You had to be sharp, had to show your support and friendship in other more mundane ways so Shoto would continue to believe.

You were still a fairy on a mission, after all.

Harnessing magic wasn’t a one-time thing. If it were, then the council would have easily done it by now. The truth of the matter was that cultivating the magic out of humans required time, effort, and care— a feat that was far too tedious for the council to partake in, which was why it was up to the God fairies to carry it out.

As the relationship between a god fairy and their assigned human continued to grow, so would the amount of magic present within the human. Once it got to its breaking point, then the god fairy would immediately harness it, marking the end of their relationship and causing the human to never believe in magic again.

It was a cruel process but one you couldn’t avoid as it meant your life or death. But the more time you spend with Shoto, the more your resolve seems to break, and you begin to question whether or not you could actually pull through with what you were meant to do.

The door slides open, snapping you away from your train of thought, and in walks Shoto, a new bruise forming over his right eye.

Even if you couldn’t show yourself on a daily basis, you still made your presence known to Shoto through small acts of magic, ones that wouldn’t be considered overboard by the Grand Elder. You would have followed Shoto everywhere he went, watching his every move and ensuring that he was safe, but in a way, it made you uncomfortable.

And you couldn’t stand seeing the way his family and servants treated him. It was too cruel. You were sure that if you spent any second longer seeing his siblings ridicule him or his father punch him, then you would lose control. And everything that you had worked desperately for would have gone to waste, which was why you distanced yourself from the young child whenever he was around others. You knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help it. It was for the best; you tried to convince yourself. You were doing the right thing.

But that didn’t mean you didn’t help him at all. As Shoto quickly makes his way to his worn-out futon, wincing in pain at all the bruises his father had given him from the day’s beating, you couldn’t help but fuss over him, immediately reaching out to take the pain away in your invisible state, external wounds remaining.

“Fairy Godmother?” Shoto calls out weakly, feeling the pain leave him gradually as warmth replaces it. His eyes feel lighter, and he finally works the courage to open them fully, only to be met with his dark room. You were still invisible. You hadn’t shown yourself just yet. “Are you there?”

You wanted to respond. You desperately do. But the weight of your duty weighs heavy on your shoulders, and you hesitate, unsure whether or not you would reach out to him. You two were close, that was for sure. Throughout the few months of your ‘friendship’ with Shoto (if you could call it that), you had come to know just how precious the child truly was. Even after all the hardships and suffering that overcame him, he was still bright and innocent, something you never entirely understood, but you supposed that was what made Shoto… Shoto.

“Fairy Godmother?” Shoto calls out again, this time a little more desperate. His eyes dart around, trying to find you, but you were nowhere to be seen. All he wanted was to see you again. Sure, you had in some way, shape, and form always made your presence known through your kind acts, but it didn’t feel complete. It was as if Shoto was talking to a ghost, and he didn’t want that. He wanted to speak to his friend, the one person who made him see the light in what seemed like a never-ending darkness.

“Please,” he whispers like a prayer, hoping that you would show yourself. “Are you there?”

You couldn’t take it. This was torture to you. You knew you would get reprimanded either way, but as a fairy tasked with the responsibility of taking care of this child, you had to do it. He was practically crying out at this point. What kind of soul wouldn’t help him?

“I am here, Shoto,” you say, finally revealing yourself, and you feel yourself wince at the tears of relief that slip past the young child’s eyes. “I am here.”

Almost immediately, Shoto lunges at you, wrapping you in the tightest embrace he could muster. Was this real? He thought to himself. Were you actually here? This wasn’t a dream, right? What if you left him for good? He didn’t think his heart could handle that.

“You’re here!” He whispers, nuzzling into your stomach, giggling. “You’re actually here!” How could a child be so precious? You wonder to yourself. He was so innocent and pure. Why was his family hurting him like he wasn’t? From the time you had come to know Shoto, you could tell that he was a kind soul. He didn’t deserve any of the pain inflicted by his family. He deserved nothing but love and happiness. You just wished you had the authority to give it to him.

But alas, even with your freedom came chains that sought to bind you to the harsh realities of the world.

“Yes, I am, Shoto,” you giggle, running your hand soothingly through his hair, knowing how much comfort it brought the young child. “What is it that you need?”

“Nothing really,” Shoto replies after a while, merely basking in your warmth for as long as he could. “I just wanted to see you again.”

If Shoto were, to be honest, he was afraid that you were merely a product of his own imagination. His family often mocked him for it, calling him delusional in every way they could. Delusional for thinking he was loved; Delusional for thinking he deserved to be loved, and more so delusional for thinking that he could actually receive love from his family.

He was raised to believe that in one way or another, he was delusional, so somewhere deep down inside him, he thought that maybe you were a product of his delusions too.

But here you were, smiling down at him with such tenderness and care that Shoto knew you were anything but a delusion. He smiles brightly, the pain from earlier slowly melting away in your presence, and he drags you with his little hands towards his small, worn-out mattress, encouraging you to sit.

You follow him, eyes frowning at the state of his mattress. This was no way to treat a human being. Even back in the fairy realm, although it was clear that many were not fond of you, they still gave you common courtesy and respect as any other living being should. What Shoto’s family was doing to him was horrible, and you wish you could bring him out of it.

“Could you tell me a story?” Shoto asks out of the blue, causing your eyes to widen in surprise. “A story?” You repeat, unsure if you heard him correctly. Shoto nods, moving to lift a part of his mattress off the ground to reveal a hidden pile of storybooks that you never knew existed.

“My father doesn’t let me read,” he whispers, fingers darting over the dusty covers. “Says I’m not worthy of it.” Your hands clenched into fists beside you as you tried not to let your anger show, but Shoto could feel it slowly dripping off you in waves. “It’s fine, though,” he says, trying to reassure you that he wasn’t as affected by it as he truly was. “I’m used to it….”

A beat of silence passes the two of you as you look at the solemn gaze on Shoto’s face as he continues to run his fingers through the cover of the worn book longingly. With a sigh, you gently take Shoto into your arms, catching the young boy by surprise.

“You don’t have to hide in front of me, you know?” You say, seemingly scolding the child, but your tone was light, a small smile making its way to your face. “Friends don’t hide things from each other.”

From where he sat in your lap, Shoto looks at you with a bewildered gaze on his face, as if he were mesmerized. You simply smile at him, taking the book gently from his arms and opening it to the first page.

“I’ll help you learn how to read,” you say, finally clearing up your actions. “Isn’t that what you truly want?”

Shoto doesn’t say anything, but you can tell from the tears that are about to fall from his eyes that this was indeed his genuine desire. It pained you. Reading was something many took for granted, but as you see the absolute joy on Shoto’s face as he brought his attention back to the book in excitement, you realize that this was a gift.

You had the power to help this child beyond magic. And that was something you would use to your advantage, no matter the consequence.

You just wished that you would have done a better job at keeping it lowkey. Because as you guide Shoto in reading the story he had picked for the night, You don’t notice the gap between his door and the wall, a result of Shoto not closing the door properly from his weakened state and as a result, a young girl was standing on the opposite side of the door, eyes widened in horror and disgust at the sight she was seeing.

This wasn’t going to go well.

The next few days, Shoto honestly felt like he was in bliss.

No matter how horribly his family and servants treated him, nothing could shake the happiness he felt within his heart. Perhaps it was amplified by the fact his father had left the mansion for a few days to attend to his duties in the royal palace. Although he still had to face harsh treatments from his siblings and the other servants, at least the beatings became scarce.

His family was much too cowardly to carry out the same severe beatings his father gave. Which meant that he could enjoy his time with you even more than he should.

He had just finished his chores, ones that the servants were supposed to do, but in their vanity, they forced him to do it, going beyond their status as mere servants and dropping all their responsibilities as a child, sporting faux innocence whenever Shoto had tried to bring it up to his family.

But when he did, his father only got angry, beating him for lying about such matters, insinuating how he was insulting him because it was Enji who handpicked those servants, meaning an insult to them was an insult to his father.

So Shoto learned to take everything in a stride. To just do whatever the servants wanted him to do otherwise, he would get an even more severe beating from his father, and he wanted to avoid that at all costs.

But that fear was a thing of the past, as at the moment, Shoto was happily skipping towards his room, excitedly thinking of what story his fairy godmother would teach him about today.

Truly, like her title, Shoto’s fairy godmother was a blessing sent from the heavens. She was kind, patient, and never berated Shoto for any mistake he made. She would never do that to him, she told him one day when he had asked. It was just too cruel.

So this was what kindness really felt like, Shoto realized once the words slipped from her mouth. Growing up, Shoto was taught that his family’s actions were one of kindness, with insults such as ‘you should be grateful father was kind enough to keep you in this house when you should have been thrown out into the street already.’ being thrown at him left and right.

He had always hated kindness because of that. His family’s kindness made him feel sick, made him want to curl up into a hole and die, yet his fairy godmother had shown him the light. His fairy godmother had shown him that kindness wasn’t supposed to make you feel horrible. It was supposed to make you happy. It was supposed to fill your heart with love and affection that you wanted to give back tenfold.

What his family was doing to him wasn’t kindness at all.

Even more so when he stopped in front of his room, confused to hear a commotion inside. His gut feeling told him to run away, to hide, and never show himself again. But he couldn’t. His room was his safe haven, the only place where he could truly escape from his harsh reality, and if something ever happened to it, then Shoto wouldn’t know what to do.

He hastily opens the door only to feel his blood run cold. There standing in his room were his father, Enji, and his sister, Fuyumi. The moment they heard the door open, his sister turned to him, fake tears in her eyes, ones that Shoto knew everyone believed. Because in their eyes, Shoto’s sister was innocent, even though he knew that she was a devil in disguise.

“There he is, father!” Fuyumi exclaimed, pointing towards him accusingly. “The thief!”

Thief? Shoto wondered to himself. Why was he a thief? As far as he knew, he hadn’t stolen anything from anyone, much less his sister. Why would she accuse him of being a thief?

But he didn’t get the chance to ponder on it deeply, with his father turning towards him with deep rage lacing his eyes. Why was his father here in the first place? Wasn’t he supposed to stay in the palace for a few more days?

“You imbecile!” His father rages, stomping towards him. Shoto whimpers trying to back away, but his father was bigger and stronger than he could ever be and caught up to him quickly, holding him by the collar of his rags and throwing him across the room harshly.

The impact causes immense pain to course through Shoto’s body, and he’s sure he could feel a rib or two of his break from the pressure. There was liquid running down his face, was that blood? Perhaps. He was in too much pain to process what was happening.

“First, you kill your mother,” His father says, slowly making his way towards him, intimidation falling off him in waves. “Second, you act like an entitled brat to everyone in this house,” his words make Shoto flinch, knowing in his heart that none of his words were true. “And third,” Shoto’s father says as he finally stands in front of him, eyes glaring into his with severe malice. “You dare steal something extremely valuable from your sister? Have you no shame?”

With the little strength he could muster, Shoto looks up at his father, eyes weak and hazy. “Steal?” He whispers. “I didn’t steal anything….”

“Lies!” He hears his sister exclaim, sobbing hysterically. If Shoto didn’t know that his sister had two sides, he would have believed that she was genuinely upset. But that wasn’t the case. She was making things up. And this time, her act might actually cost his life.

“You stole the storybooks I got from mother!” She accuses, holding her teddy bear tighter to her chest, hateful eyes glaring into his.

Storybooks? Shoto asks to himself, eyes darting around only to find the pile of storybooks on the ground— the same ones you read to him every night. A fire burns inside him, something that Shoto had never felt before. The audacity his sister had.

“Y-you,” he stutters, coughing from the pain. “You threw them away! I don’t steal them. I found them in the garbage!”

“That’s not true!” His sister fights back, and Shoto can see the way her eyes dart around in shock, not expecting him to actually speak up. “Why would I throw away something I received from mother?”

Shoto was about to retort, but suddenly, a harsh sound rang through the room, and Shoto feels an excruciatingly painful sting on his cheek. His father had slapped him hard.

“How dare you,” he says, voice low, concealing the pure unadulterated rage that was about to burst forth. “How dare you take our kindness for granted, you son of a bitch.”

“We clothed you. We gave you shelter and food, and this is how you repay us?” He spats, hands clenched into fists. “After everything you’ve done to our family, you continue to disgrace our family name? What a despicable child you are.”

Pushing Shoto down to the floor, Enji raises his hand, ready to land a punch. “Shameful.” He lands a blow. “Disgusting.” He lands another. “Thief.” This time his father hits his broken ribs, causing Shoto to cry out in even more pain. “Murderer.”

Tears fall from Shoto’s eyes as the pain continues to flow through him, bursting through every punch. Was he really a murderer? Was he really that bad of a child? If so, why did they make him stay? Why couldn’t they put him out of his misery?

He wished his fairy godmother was here. She would probably make things better than they were now. She would make all the pain go away and then pat his head like she always did as she read him another story. He had never been as happy as he was whenever she read to him. But who knew that happiness came at an awful price?

Fairy Godmother, Shoto prayed in his mind as his father continued to beat him, letting out all his anger onto his body. Where are you? He was sure he looked like a mess, probably not even human anymore. But he couldn’t care less. He just wanted his fairy godmother by his side.

She said she would be there when he needed it most, didn’t she?

Suddenly the pain stops, and all Shoto feels is numb. He opens his eyes to the best ability, only to see his father stop midair with someone’s hand holding into his arm. He turns to the side, wincing in pain, yet it’s worth it because he finally sees the person he’s been waiting for.

His fairy godmother had finally appeared.

“Who are you?” His father shouts, screaming at the fairy. Her face is hardened, eyes glaring back at him with such hatred that it could honestly mirror his father’s.

“None of your business,” she spats before forcefully throwing his father to the other side of the room, landing with a harsh thud.

She walks towards him, a menacing aura surrounding her, but just before she could approach Shoto’s father, his sister immediately runs to defend him, glaring with genuine tears in her eyes.

“Who are you?” She screams, shaking. “Why are you attacking father? Father has done nothing wrong! You should be attacking that… thing! He’s the bad one here.”

Her desperate cries leave a bitter hole in Shoto’s heart as he feels nothing but despair. He had always hoped that beneath all the harsh words of his family members, underneath all their cruel punishments and glaring eyes, they would still have room in their hearts to care for him, even just a little bit.

But no, they didn’t even see him as human. And that hurt way more than being called a murderer.

“First of all,” you say, voice ice-cold, causing shivers to run down everyone’s spine. “Shoto isn’t a thing. He’s a human being. He’s your brother. What kind of person are you for not even acknowledging that?”

“He killed my mother!” Shoto’s sister screams in protest, holding her ground. But her words only cause your gaze to harden as you grab her in the shoulders, and she shakes under your terrifying stare.

“Listen here, young lady,” your voice booms through the room. “Shoto didn’t kill anyone. Your mother’s death was not his fault. Just because you can’t accept the fact that your mother is not on this earth anymore doesn’t mean you can treat your brother like he’s the scum of the earth.”

His sister falls silent after that, not knowing what else to say. She sniffles, and as gently as you can, you push her to the side. She was still a child, after all. No matter how vain she was, she was only a year or two older than Shoto. And you were not one to inflict pain on children or anyone for that matter.

But this had gone too far. And you couldn’t find it within yourself to stand on the sidelines any longer.

“And you,” if possible, your voice becomes even more ominous as you approach Enji, who sat on the ground, groaning. In his weakened state, he glares at you, having the audacity to continue spewing nonsense from his mouth.

“Don’t you know who I am?” He threatens before you can continue to speak. “I am Todoroki Enji, the right-hand man of the Emperor of the Musutafu Empire! If his majesty were to find out of your crime, then he would—”

“—Punish you to the depths of hell.” You say, cutting him off. “I’m not a fool, Todoroki Enji. I know that the only reason you sheltered Shoto was so the Emperor wouldn’t find out your crimes. Otherwise, you would have thrown him onto the streets.”

Enji can feel his blood run cold, the truth hitting him like harsh waves the more they fall from your lips.

“The Emperor is a kind and just man, and if he were to ever find out that you were treating your child this way, then he wouldn’t hesitate to sentence you to death. You know that more than anyone.”

Silence befalls the room as everyone soaks your words in. Shoto doesn’t understand. What were you trying to say?

“You know better than to punish Shoto for killing his mother. He didn’t do anything wrong. Todoroki Rei was already weak and frail after giving birth to the little young miss over there, yet you still insisted that she bear you a child, and when she refused, you threatened her.”

A gasp falls from his sister’s lips as the gravity of your words swirls up into a tornado in Shoto’s mind. Was this true? Was he truly not to blame for all of this?

“Lies,” Enji mutters under his breath, low enough for only you to hear. You stay silent, allowing the man to form his thoughts, yet that proves to be fatal as after a beat of silence passes, the man glares at you, taking a broken piece of the wall and swinging it your way.

“Fairy Godmo—” Shoto calls, distressed and scared, but it proved to be for naught as in the blink of an eye, the heavy debris vanished, and you stood there, wand in hand, glaring once more at his father.

“What?!” His father exclaims, finally taking his stand. “How were you able to do that? That should have killed you!”

You smile, grin sinister and dark, far from the gentle warmth it usually portrayed. Shoto was scared. His brain couldn’t comprehend what was happening. But what he did know was that he didn’t like any of this one bit.

“Magic,” is all you say, lifting your wand to cast another spell. “Magic is what made me do this to you. And magic is how I’ll make sure that you suffer the same hell Shoto has gone through.”

Horror fills Enji’s eyes as you step closer. But just as you’re about to release your spell, the door opens, revealing Shoto’s second brother, Natsuo, whose eyes widened at the sight in front of him. On instinct, he grabs the wooden sword he had brought with him from his training and lunges at you just as your magic bursts forth, tackling you to the ground.

And a scream fills the air.

Everyone looks, startled at the sight. When the chaos finally comes clear, to the family’s dread and your glee, your spell had managed to affect Enji, but not in the way that you had hoped.

Instead of the core of his body, you had hit his eyes instead, a nasty scar forming over it, burning the flesh, and causing the man to tremble in pain.

Well, at least he would know what Shoto felt when he got his scar.

You stand up, dusting the dirt off your clothes as you make your way towards Shoto, ignoring his shell-shocked brother, who was staring at his father writhing in pain. You probably look like a mess at this point, totally different from how you usually appeared, but that was the least of your concerns.

You had to ensure Shoto was alright. He had gone through so much after all.

You couldn’t stand it. How could you stand watch when Shoto’s father was basically killing the poor child? Shoto who was pure and innocent. Shoto, whose only desire in life, was to read. He didn’t care for freedom or revenge. He just wanted to live normally.

You couldn’t find it within yourself to let his family trample over those dreams any longer.

You finally approach him, getting ready to kneel beside him and take him in your embrace so you could take the pain away. How much pain must he have gone through? You wonder. His body was battered and bruised, looking as if he was merely a shell of the child he once was. It was too cruel, and you could only hope that you’re magic would take even a bit of that pain away.

Because the child deserved to smile.

But just as you’re about to reach out towards him, a bright light shines through the room, and from that light comes a figure, one that causes your whole being to momentarily freeze in shock and fear.

Elder Yagi stood there in all his glory, robes and wings perfectly accentuating his features, truly presenting himself as the most powerful fairy in all the realm. His eyes were placed into a frown, and he stared directly at you, disappointment evident within him.

You had screwed up, and now you were going to pay the price.

“Young (Y/N),” His voice booms, loud and proud like how a fairy should be. “For breaking the Fairy Code by revealing the existence of magic to humans other than your godchild and for using said magic to unlawfully harm the human race, you are hereby sentenced to banishment from the fairy realm effective immediately.”

You stare at the elder you had come to know as a father, pleading with desperate eyes for him not to do this to you, but he pays no mind, waving his wand, causing binds to form and wrap around your body.

“No, please!” You scream in vain, begging. “At least let me heal Shoto. Let me do something for him!”

“You’ve already done enough!” Elder Yagi screams. It’s the first time you’ve seen him so angry, and it scares you. Where was the kind fairy you had come to know? Why was he acting like this? “The Council will take over.”

And light flashes once more through the broken room, and just like that, you’re gone, leaving Shoto behind.

Shoto blinks blearily, everything passing by in a blur. What had happened? What was happening? He wished he had the strength to get up and take a stand for himself, but he was quite literally beaten to a pulp. He can’t feel the strength in his arms anymore, and just that very thought scares him.

The only thing that comforts him is the soothing lullaby of darkness, trancing him into a sleepy state, and before he knows it, Shoto passes out.

Not knowing that from this point onwards, his life would change forever.

The light shines through the curtains, and Shoto wakes up, blinking.

He stretches his tired limbs and sits up, yawning. Why did he feel so tired? He’s never felt this weary before.

He gets out of bed, heading towards his bathroom, looking at the mirror. When he does, however, he’s suddenly flashed with a vision of him, beaten into a pulp and unable to stand up, and he gasps, but that vision slowly fades away, and Shoto’s regular reflection comes back.

What was that? Why did he look so… dead?

Surely that was a figment of his own imagination, right? Surely that was his mind playing tricks on him, right? Sure, his family did beat him from time to time, but they would never treat him that badly, right?

Shoto shivers, desperately shaking his thoughts away, as he slowly makes his way to the kitchen, hoping to snag some food while the servants aren’t looking.

On his way, however, he bumps into his father, who glares at him. Shoto looks to the ground in shame, not knowing why this particular meeting made him more frightened than usual. He should be used to his father’s beatings by now, but why did he feel so scared?

“You,” his father says, and Shoto halts at the menacing tone in his voice. “Look at me.” Shoto does as he asks, and looks up to his father, eyes widening at the sight of a ghastly scar mirroring his own on his father’s face.

Did he always have that scar?

His father stares at him as if he were examining him. For what reason, Shoto wasn’t quite sure, But it made him extremely uncomfortable, and he could only hope that his father would let him go soon.

“You should be grateful I’m in a good mood today, brat,” is all his father says, glaring harshly at Shoto. He doesn’t say anything more than that, choosing to leave towards the direction of the dining room, leaving Shoto behind in the hallway.

That was it? He asked himself. He wasn’t going to punch him? That was weird. But he paid it no mind. As his father said, it was his lucky day.

Yet as Shoto continued to head towards the kitchen, there was an itching feeling scratching the back of his head, telling Shoto that there was something wrong. That something was missing. It felt like there was a missing piece to the puzzle, which confused Shoto because, as far as he knew, everything was completely normal.

But he couldn’t ignore that thought. It nagged him throughout the day, telling him that this wasn’t right.

The problem was, Shoto had no idea what exactly was wrong.

#once.upon.an.au #bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academy x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #shoto x reader #todoroki x you #todoroki shoto x you #shoto x you

78 notes · View notes

hauntedfalcon · 3 years

Note

fic prompt: in the future (couple hundred years or more) Nile and Quynh (lets presume that she rejoins the team in the next movie) go to find a new immortal

"Did you dream of it, when Andy came to find me?"

Quỳnh, in the midst of the lander's pre-flight checklist, cracks a smile. "We will not be shooting anyone in the head today," she says.

"No we won't," Nile sighs. They have time to be gentle to the new one, in delivering them to this life. Things aren't quiet by any means, which is why Joe and Nicky and Booker are staying with the ship. But no one is actively hunting them down for the moment.

And Nile and Quỳnh are not Andy. They both have plenty to grieve, but they don't carry it alone out of some misplaced responsibility to protect the others.

"When she found me," Quỳnh starts. She's quiet for the countdown to uncoupling, then she tries again as the lander detaches. "When we found Yusuf and Nicolò, we had dreamed of them for years. It was like coming home. There was so much they had already accepted and worked through together. I'm sure they struggled more than I saw, but they made it look easy."

"And when she found you?" Nile says, because long ago, Quỳnh made Nile promise that she would help her face these things.

Quỳnh is silent until gravity takes hold of the lander. "I did not make anything easy for her."

Nile laughs aloud.

There are more people scattered across the solar system than there are left on Earth now, but the new one didn't die on a colony or a station. Maybe it's Earth itself that grants them this gift. Maybe their feet must be planted on the soil or the sand in order to rise again.

From the flashes in their dreams and some cross-referencing with their Terran contact, they determined that the new one is in the NT Underground. Their first death was excruciating, crushed under stone in a collapsed tunnel. And then they got right back up and kept fighting. Every time she dreams, Nile feels their fear, their confusion, their loneliness, and the force of their will.

She checks their trajectory on the screen, then cranes her neck to look out the tiny window. "It's so weird to be back here. There's more ocean than I remember."

"Yes," Quỳnh says in a faraway voice.

They put down outside Alice Springs and start making their inquiries. The locals don't warm to outsiders, and there is no one more outside than the two of them--but Quỳnh has a way of winning the trust of dangerous and frightened people.

That evening they are escorted through limestone chambers to a dim and smokey room, where a figure is surrounded by... well, the first word that comes to Nile's mind, based on body language alone, is disciples. All the other people here are oriented toward the new one, waiting for whatever they'll say next.

A freedom fighter who can't die would look an awful lot like a savior.

But whoever they were before, they were not a leader, and they haven’t had the time Nile has to grow into the role. They shrink from the deference their associates show them now. "Can you give us the room?" they ask with an attempt at authority. The others slip away quietly.

When it's just the three of them, Nile sits on the edge of a supply crate and says, "My name is Nile. This is Quỳnh. How should we call you?"

"Gotjan, for now." Their chin stays jutted, lips tight. Gotjan is plump, and richly brown as the earth, with a head of loose curls faded by sun at the ends. Maybe a handful of years older than Nile was at her first death.

"Pronouns?" Quỳnh prompts.

"She. You?"

"Same," Nile says.

"Whatever works," Quỳnh says.

For an instant it looks like Gotjan might smile, but she steels herself again. "Why have you come here?"

"To meet you," Nile says as Quỳnh takes a handheld cutter from her bag. "The dreams are how we find each other."

The cutter sparks. Quỳnh sears a line across her palm without a whimper, and holds it up as it heals.

Gotjan's eyes go wide. "Who's we?" she breathes.

"You, me, Quỳnh, and those three men you've been dreaming of, back on our ship. They're waiting for you to join us."

"Six," Gotjan says. "There are six of us?" She lets out an incredulous laugh. "Do you know what we could accomplish with six of us?"

Nile hears that we for what it is: the Underground. She knows perfectly well what six of them can accomplish.

Gently she says, "We aren't running missions on Earth, for the time being. It got a little too hot for us." They need to wait out a few overhauls of physical media, until all the records of what they did in Vancouver forty years ago pass out of memory. "But there are a lot of ways to help a cause."

"From space?" Gotjan takes a step back. "No. I'm not leaving. I lost everything--those bastards took everything from me, and I finally have a chance to do something about it."

This is something Nile expected from the conviction she felt in the dreams, though it's novel to her. When Nile was new, she had only begun to realize how much she didn't believe in what she had fought for.

She says, "Have you ever killed anyone?"

Gotjan swallows. Yeah, that's what Nile thought.

"We're not here to force you to do anything," she soothes. "If you want us to go without you, we will, and Joe and Nicky and Booker will keep dreaming of you. We'll know if you're in trouble and we'll always come back. But before you make that decision, you need to think about whether staying will do the Underground any good. If you're captured, they can kill you and kill you, and your mind will crack eventually, and that's when they'll get secrets out of you that will lead to the deaths of people you love."

She can see from the shadow that passes across Gotjan's eyes and the way she slants her face away from them that she is thinking about it.

But before Gotjan can answer, Quỳnh says, "No."

Nile gives her a vexed look, which she ignores. She always picks the most inconvenient fucking times to go off script.

"No," Quỳnh says again, "we won't leave you behind. None of us should ever be alone. If you stay, we will stay and fight beside you to whatever end. If you run from us, we will follow. You can hate us for it, but we won't be moved."

Her voice is a thread reaching back thousands of years. It raises the hairs on Nile's arms. Gotjan stares at her with a fire in her eyes. It isn't gentle, but maybe in this moment, in her solitude, it's what she needs to hear.

Quỳnh says, "You don't yet know the depth of what you have gained. Come with us and we will show you."

Nile waits for the cavern to stop ringing from Quỳnh's fervor. Then she clears her throat. "We also have an ungodly amount of money to fund the Underground in your absence."

All the way up out of the gravity well, Gotjan has questions. They do their best to answer them.

Nile watches her face when the lander pivots to reattach to the ship, and Earth is visible once more through the window. There is an ache in Gotjan's dark eyes. It's the barest she's allowed herself to be in their presence.

"I never planned to leave," she whispers. "I know the work is better up here, but... that's our land."

"That is a connection you will always have," Quỳnh promises her.

A freedom fighter who can't die and who leaves to live in the sky will, in another century or so, look an awful lot like a folk hero.

"How long are you staying off Earth?"

Nile says, "Two, maybe three more generations."

"Generations," Gotjan echoes. "What are you, twenty?"

The Freeman babyface strikes again. "I'm four hundred and twelve," Nile says lightly. "Next Thursday."

"The fuck," Gotjan says, turning to stare at her. "When do you stop keeping track?"

"About five centuries ago," Quỳnh supplies.

Gotjan lifts her head to look at Quỳnh, but she doesn't ask the logical next question. Not yet, anyway.

The Andromache's docking clamps embrace the lander. Nile leads the way through her beloved corridors, moving slower than usual so Gotjan can get used to the magnetic boots.

Nile hears them while she's still outside the galley, cursing in Italian and French, with a frantic he didn't mean it for spice.

She stops at the door and glances at Quỳnh, on the other side of Gotjan. The oldest, and the newest. Quỳnh gives her a tiny, prized smile.

"Gentlemen," Nile says as the door slides open, and a trio of anything but gentlemen straighten up from a pantomime brawl as dinner bubbles in the cooker. Some things never change.

And some things do. Nile says, "This is Gotjan."

#The Old Guard prompts for ts #Nile Freeman #Quynh #an attempt was made at an OFC!

139 notes · View notes

mae-gi-writes · 4 years

Text

Sooner | Sunwoo (The Boyz)

Requested by anon! You break up with your boyfriend at the annual dinner staff celebration. But thankfully, Sunwoo swoops in to save the day.

Genre: fluff, a little angst if you squint. CEO! Sunwoo au, Noona au.

A/N: I’m sorry for taking so long with requests but I literally have NO time to write *cries*. But I’ll try my best to go through them asap. Thank you for your patience and for understanding, and thank you most of all, for reading my works <3 <3

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

"Now is your time," Jacob urges, "do something."

He doesn't have to call Sunwoo for attention, for the said man's eyes are already riveted towards the couple in question swaying on the dance floor. Or had been swaying anyway. Because right now, they're squarely facing each other and even with the loud music booming through the speakers, small snippets of angry conversation seems to reach the pair.

"I can't do that," Sunwoo mumbles while ducking his head away, "you know I can't do that. People will talk--"

"People will always talk Sunwoo," Jacob cuts him off with a stern look, "you're not doing that as Mr. Kim, CEO of Kim Finances. You're doing it as Kim Sunwoo, just a guy smitten with his junior associate."

The younger man decides to keep quiet, though Jacob can practically see the cogs turning in his head.

"I can't keep doing this Jaehwan," your voice suddenly pierces through the music, "how am I supposed to trust the fact that you're hanging out with your ex--you go out to drink with her! I--"

"She knows my friends Y/N, she's already in the group. I don't know why you're making such a fuss about this!"

Beside him, Jacob scoffs, "what a dick."

"Because you did it once!" You yell out, fists clenched and chest heaving, "you did it once Jaehwan. How--How am I supposed to trust you--"

Jaehwan murmurs something before his hands reach out as a gesture to calm you. But it's too late. You push at his chest while crying out, "Oh stop acting like you're the good guy. You know damn well what you did!"

People around you have stopped with curious gazes, something that's bound to result in office gossip the next day and though Sunwoo isn't one to act like a hero, he decides that he'd better swoop in before things get out of hand.

As the CEO, it's his duty. He tells himself. Yeah, that's right.

So that is how he finds himself striding up to the pair of you to position himself in a way that he can shield you from Jaehwan.

"Hey guys," his eyes flit back and forth between the pair, "we should probably take this outside--"

"You're one to talk Y/N," Jaehwan scoffs, "you accuse me of talking to my exes when you gallivant in the office, getting all friendly with the superiors--"

"They're just friends! And--"

"Think I didn't know you little game?! What about you flirting with him, all the time?!" Jaehwan jabs a thumb in Sunwoo's direction, causing him to blink in surprise before rage clouds over.

"Excuse me?" He finds his voice, fist suddenly clenching at his side while narrowing his eyes at the said man.

The latter scoffs, hands plopping atop his hips as he shakes his head, "wow, look at that. Y/N, what'd you do for him to take your side? Bet you had a nice suck--"

That does it. Sunwoo's fist flies forward, hits Jaehwan straight in the jaw.

The whole room gasps. Silence ensues.

It takes a few seconds for Jaehwan to straighten back up, his nostrils flared and his mouth twisted in a scowl that he throws at Sunwoo, "you little fucker--"

Everything happened so fast. One moment Jaehwan is lurching at the CEO's body and Sunwoo throws himself before Y/N, and the next, two colleagues are dragging Jaehwan away, all the while screaming obscenities for everyone to hear and see.

Noticing the way your face is crumpled as though you're about to cry, the CEO makes a grab for your shoulders, spins you around, and walks you out of the room, out of the gaping eyes drilling holes into the back of your heads.

It is only when the burst of fresh air hits your face that you inhale shakily, hands finding purchase onto the terrace railing.

"You okay?" Sunwoo murmurs softly.

While his fingers itch to touch you, hold you close, he decides that it's not wise. Not now.

"Noona?" He prompts.

"Huh?" Your eyes flutter up to his, causing his heart to squeeze at the sight of the tears brimming at the corners, "sorry, I--" taking a shaky inhale, you stumble through your words, "I'm sorry he lashed out at you--"

"Noona," Sunwoo rests his hand atop your arm, "it's fine. Breathe."

A long silence ensues where you try to even out your breathing. He watches though his chest hurts at the sight of your struggle, helpless in such a situation.

When you manage to recollect yourself long enough, you manage a wobbly smile. Sunwoo's heart clenches at the pain lingering in your brown orbs.

Fucking bastard, he swears if he ever sees his face he'll break his two legs.

"He's not wrong you know," you say, keeping your gaze averted, away from him, as if embarrassed by the mere notion of it.

Moving closerr to you, his hand settles on the small of your back, "what do you mean?"

"He--He knows we're close, too close for his liking. it didn't help that I told him how popular you were with the girls."

He scoffs, "not a reason."

"I might have also told him..." you spare him a glance and bite down on your bottom lip, "...that I liked you before. That's what started this whole thing. He thinks I cheated on him, with you. So he thinks it's okay to see his ex, except that--" swallowing hard, you continue in a whisper, "except that I never cheated. I'd never do that Sunwoo and--"

Tears are free falling down your cheeks now and without hesitation Sunwoo's arms lace themselves around your middle just in time for you to lean into his cheat to sob. He holds you, holds you as your ahoulders shake and your body quivers and all the sadness comes pouring out of you like a free-flowing river finally able to run its course.

He holds you, while trying not to let his brain jump to the conclusion that there might be a bigger strand of hope for him to catch your heart and make it his.

She liked me, his brain roars like a blaring siren.

Maybe she still does.

When your sobs finally calm down into soft sniffles, he manages to pull you back enough before cupping your chin and tilting it up so that you have no choice but look at him.

The emotion he finds swimming across your face causes another stab to resonate through his ribcage. He hates seeing you so frail, so weak.

"Even if we are close," he murmurs, "that doesn't justify him cheating. Nothing ever does."

"But it's my fault," you blubber against his chest, "I should've just kept my distance--"

"You'd ignore me for him?"

You hesitate slightly, "that's not what I--"

"No. Noona, you can't just end friendships with people just because he said so. If he loves you as he claims he does, he wouldn't be so jealous and insecure," He interrupts in barely-restrained anger, "being in love doesn't mean throwing away everything else. It doesn't work that way and he's a dick for even implying that on you."

He can keep going, but spotting your bottom lip wobbling is enough to allow the words to die at the back of his throat. Instead he just holds you a little closer, an embrace that you gladly accept, tucks your head under his jaw before rocking you back and forth like you're a child that needs comforting.

He isn't really aware of the hours that slip by, only realizes that it's late when he notices the lights aren't on anymore inside the room, that there aren't any voices in the vicinity to suggest that there's still a presence of a party. Glad that there aren't any curious eyes, he doesn't waste time guiding you to his car so that he can drive you home, scooping you into his arms -- you'd fallen asleep on the way and he knows his way to your flat -- and clumsily letting himself in your safe haven.

Gently laying you down onto a nearby sofa, your sleeping form snuggles closer to the pillows on instinct as a soft sigh leaves your lips. Sunwoo gathers a blanket from the side before he tucks you in, careful not to jostle you awake. But there's nothing to worry about. You are happily swept up in a reverie of dreams.

"Cute," Sunwoo can't help but mutter under his breath while crouching down to gaze fondly at your smoothed out features, a drastically different picture from the crying mess you'd been a few hours before.

He reaches out, hand brushing away a few stray strands of hair from your face, "why didn't you tell me sooner?"

A soft sigh escapes him, "I liked you too, noona. I've always liked you, idiot."

And then, not being able to restrain himself, the young man leans over to drop a chaste kiss atop your forehead.

"Sleep tight, princess," he murmurs.

-------

Knock knock knock.

Sunwoo looks up from the pile of papers scattered across his desk, face worn out with tiredness and practically running on caffeine. Speaking off, he should probably get another cup.

"Yes?" He calls, though he inwardly cringes at the way his alto croaks without energy.

But the moment the door swings open to reveal your face, the young CEO relaxes. He leans back in his seat before closing his eyes, "it's only you."

"Were you expecting someone else?" You ask while closing his door. You approach his desk gingerly, with a fearful gait in your step that though you hope he doesn't notice, he does so anyway.

He shakes his head in response, before he motions her to take a seat. You don't though, rocking back and forth on your heels with your hands knotting themselves, a sign of nervousness.

"Noona?" He peers at you when you don't say anything, concern flaahing through his features, "what's wrong?"

Taking a deep, shaky breath, you squirm slightly before you manage to gather up all your courage to blurt out:

"I heard you, that night."

Silence. Sunwoo stares at you, confusion blossoming into realization when his brain puts two and two together.

He jolts up from his chair, "you heard--you mean, what--what did you hear?"

"Well," you shuffle from one foot to another while averting your gaze, "uhm--I heard you speak, that time when you carried me to my flat--"

"And you kept that to yourself all this time?!"

"What was I supposed to do?! I was confused!"

In truth, only two weeks had passed since the famous incident. Though, you were glad that Sunwoo had been too busy to actually realize you had been silently avoiding him. It had given you time to gather your thoughts and actually think over what you really wanted to say.

After all, Sunwoo is the CEO of Kim Finances. You are just a mere nobody. He doesn't really need you.

"You--You--" he struggles to gather his thoughts as he gazes at you, a mere puppy being kicked by its owner with his cheeks filling with the softest peony.

You approach his desk, noting the way his eyes widen at your blunt confidence while you round the table to stand before him.

"I like you," you look up at him boldly even when your cheeks are flaming with colour and your palms are coated with a sheen of swear, heart beating as if you’ve just run a mile without any breaks, "I've always liked you. Except, people talk and you’re like three years younger than me, which doesn’t help things and the fact that I just recently broke up with Jaehwan because of you just seems wrong--”

One second you’re trying to justify yourself, and the next Sunwoo is cupping your cheeks and pulling you in as his mouth finds yours in a hard, passionate kiss.

A small sigh escapes your throat, which he takes as a green light. His hands grip your waist before he pins your soft curves to his hard frame, the action leaving you breathless and your head dizzy as he slowly moves his lips over yours.

He kisses, nibbles, sucks softly while your hands pave a way up his chest to grip tight on his work shirt and when your butt hits the edge of his table, the young CEO doesn’t hesitate to grab your thighs before propelling you up on his desk. Covering your protests with his lips, body slipping right in-between your thighs while his tongue delves in to caress yours, a low growl echoes from deep within his chest when you kiss back with just as much ardour.

You’ve never really thought of kissing Sunwoo up until recently. But all these fantasies had always felt wrong somehow, maybe because you know he’s younger which automatically made him younger brother material. Or so you thought. And it’s not like his attitude had helped in the past. While he was the CEO of a big multinational company, Sunwoo was still a big kid at heart who just loved pestering you and bullying you with his affection.

But this, him kissing you and ravaging your lips as if that’s the last time you shall ever see each other again, that is definitely not the Sunwoo you’ve grown to know.

This is a different Sunwoo. This Sunwoo feels like a man. His grip is firm, his mouth hot and hard and just the pure bliss of a drug you can’t get enough of.

You’re not really sure when your arms manage to lace their way around his neck, but it’s only when you part for air that you realize how close you are, how his chest is practically pressed against yours it can be considered scandalous. He takes this chance to pepper soft kisses over your jaw and when you turn your head to allow him to explore, doesn’t hesitate to slowly nuzzle his way along your neck, nibbling here and there and causing your body to squirm, a soft whimper falling from your lips which he only answers with a deep, satisfied rumble from his chest.

Head tilting back up so that his nose brushes yours, he murmurs, “I don’t care what people think,” his alto is rough, so deep that it hits you with a wave of desire. You can’t help but notice his fingers which have somehow found a way to ghost up your thighs as he speaks.

Swallowing hard, you try to find your voice to answer him, “I--I don’t want this relationship to hurt your reputation--”

Another round of butterflies flutter up your chest when he drops a peck on your lips to shush you, “you think too much,” he mumbles against your mouth, pressing another chaste kiss, “about things that don’t matter.”

“Sunwoo, I--”

“Noona,” he gives you a hard look, dark eyes filled with an intensity, a depth that makes you wonder briefly whether he’s hiding a galaxy of feelings by the amount of tenderness echoing through his pools of dark obsidian.

“You can’t keep living for others,” he tucks some of your hair behind your ear, “and I’m not asking for much. All I ask is for you to give me a chance.”

He has a point. You’re always so self-conscious of what others might think that sometimes, you feel like it’s the reason why you’re so unhappy.

So as your eyes find his to answer his question, you dip your head down into a nod.

“okay,” you murmur. The man lets out a relieved sigh, before bringing you into another hug, one that fills your heart with a flurry of feelings you can’t quite place. Though you know they’re definitely tending towards the good side.

“You won’t regret it,” he whispers into your shoulder, pecking the side of your ear.

You shiver, arms wrapping a little tighter, “I know I won’t.”

184 notes · View notes

pi-cat000 · 3 years

Text

BNHA: something sad (Grief)

Summary: The last time Katsuki sees Izuku alive the other boy is rushing to save him. A ‘the Sludge Villain incident gone wrong’ AU.

Characters: Katsuki Bakugo

Fandom: My Hero Academia

WARNINGS: Major Character death, swearing, heavy angst. destructive behaviour.

(Additional part here)

(Grief- Katsuki self reflects and visits Izuku’s grave)

Katsuki knows he has a volatile personality, probably inherited it from his mum, and enough attitude that he has steamrolled his way through life without much difficulty. Things annoyed him easily and he got irritable at the drop of a hat. He has enough self-awareness to recognise that as a flaw, even if he had never seen it as much of a problem.

There was a difference between irritation and anger. Deku had always made him angry, inducing a burning hot sensation that ate at his insides. Now Deku was gone and he couldn't turn any of it off. It was like the world was suck behind a filthy pane of glass that he couldn’t smash through no matter how hard he tried.

Katsuki watches the head of his Kamui Woods figurine bend at an odd angle as the plastic began to superheat, having been exposed to a string of minor blasts. He had been slowly working his way through his figurine collection as both quirk training and to take the edge off his anger. Melting this figurine was particularly cathartic.

“Perhaps we should look into getting you some new hobbies.”

Katsuki shifts his focus to glare at his father who stands at his bedroom door, an expression of worry pulling at his features. No surprises there, worry was his father’s default response to anything Katsuki did these days.

“Not interested.”

“Something to get you out of the apartment,” his father continues to which Katsuki narrows his eyes. He wouldn’t be in the apartment if he had any say in it. Both his parents know this.

“Some physical activity where you’ll be able to let loose without having to worry about property damage. I have a colleague whose brother runs a kickboxing studio. I can make arrangements for you to spend time…”

“I said, I’m not interested,” he grumbles, returning to his current distraction.

“Well, I want you to think about it,” his dad instructs, “It would do you a lot of good and it’s something you’re passionate about….”

The figurine Katsuki is holding begins to blacken, colours melting away under his tiny, controlled bursts. There is an unhappy sigh from his father and the sound of footsteps retreating down the hall. He growls and the figurine explodes with a small Bang. Melted plastic is flung across his walls and floor.

He knows what his dad is trying to do…

How many times had he begged his parents for better training opportunities, for karate or boxing lessons, only to be denied due to money restraints? Outside of a few judo lessons he had received as a birthday gift from Inko one year, any combat training he did he had been self-taught.

Now he’s no longer interested, his parents are practically threatening him with extracurricular activities.

It’s fucking annoying is what it is.

He reaches for another figurine only to find that he has none left aside from his limited edition All Might collection. He lets out an angry breath, trying to rid himself of his restless irritation. It doesn’t work, and he ends up standing so he can pace back and forth, listening to the pop, pop, focusing on his tingling skin as sparks run up and down his arms. It keeps him distracted for all of two seconds.

Usually, he would be at the library studying, or going on long runs and working on his physical conditioning. Sometimes, he would meet up with a few of the loser-extras from school and they would visit an arcade. Recently, he had taken to wandering through the streets around his neighbourhood, waiting for something to piss him off enough that his mind would white-out in pure rage and could forget reality for a few seconds. Obviously, that had become a lot harder after several run-ins with the local police had had him all but permanently grounded outside of school hours.

This is what he wanted… he remains himself. His plan to piss people off enough that he received some iota of punishment was working like a charm so, of course, it sucked. He hated it, but then, he hated all the alternatives as well so what did any of it matter.

Katsuki ends up with his ear pressed against the door, listening for activity in the living room, waiting for an opportunity to make a break for it. He needs to be careful because Aunt Inko is visiting and the last thing he wants is to see her stupid, sympathetic smile.

When it sounds like the coast is clear, he creeps out, stealing down the hall. Muffled voices from the kitchen are all the encouragement he needs to beeline for the door and slip out before anyone can spot him. He’ll be in trouble for this later. He’s counting on it.

The hot summer air is a welcome change from the chill of air conditioning. There is the loud buzz of cicadas, chirping away in the sticky heat. He picks a direction and walks, not caring that he is wearing the sweatpants and the black singlet he had slept in. If someone has a problem with his presentation, he is more than willing to throw down.

Unfortunately, the relief being out of the apartment brings is short-lived. Today, a feeling of discomfort follows after him which has nothing to do with the heat. A bubbling frustration that bites at his heels as he stalks the streets. It is that feeling he has come to associate with times when all his rage burns away, leaving him numb.

He doesn’t plan to stop at the florists, he just sort of does.

He turns suddenly into the store before he can properly process what he is doing. The chime on the glass door rings and the sickly-sweet smell of the store has his nose wrinkling. Before he can chicken out and retreat, he walks to the counter.

“How much?” He snaps at the older lady in overalls manning the register, pointing at the nearest bunch of white flowers. He has no idea what type they are but that wasn’t the point wasn't it?

“Ah,” The woman squints at him, taken back “That depends how many you want?”

“I don’t care” He smacks the few yen he has on the counter, “However many that’ll get me. Don’t rip me off.”

The woman nods slowly, “Do you just want these specifically? You don’t want to add some more colour to the bouquet? White is a bit of a dower colour.”

“Whatever is cheapest…just make it quick.” He is already regretting coming in.

The woman hums, pulling out a roll of paper, beginning to place and wrap the flowers Katsuki had pointed to.

“Who are they for if I may ask?”

“No.”

“Oh? A special friend maybe,” She begins to tease.

“He’s dead,” he snaps abruptly, “and he’s not my friend. Just give me the damn flowers.” Why did people always make this shit more difficult than it needed to be?

The old hag is silent after that, awkwardly finalising his purchase which ends up being an assortment of white flowers with a few smaller yellow and red ones scattered between. It almost looks pretty and it is sickly-sweet smelling, just like the store.

He tries no to think about his destination as he walks with renewed deliberation. He doesn’t think about it right up until he is practically walking into the low stone wall nearest the gate. The shock of seeing the place has him freezing in place, breath catching. The last time he had been here had been during the funeral.

There are lines of thin, tightly packed, gave markers, rising horizontally on sets on uneven steps. There is barely room for people to pass between them on the narrow, flagstone path. Trees are scattered throughout the space, providing patches of uneven shade. The noise of the cicadas is louder here, almost oppressive in its throbbing hum. For a moment, all he wants to do is walk up to the nearest stone and blow it all sky high. Then he would be sure to flatten every marker in the place until the land was a barren waste. That would get him arrested for sure. The thought passes quickly, and his eyes slide away from the cemetery to his flowers. They don’t look nearly as nice now he has almost strangled them with an unintentionally tight grip.

He breaths out, resisting the urge to set something on fire. Slowly, he walks up the steps, passing the small temple at the entrance. Deku is buried further in, his stone modest in size when compared to the others.

“Deku…” He grows out a greeting when he arrives and it gets caught in his throat. The stone, obviously, does not respond.

Before he can accidentally blow them up, he carefully places the flowers next to the small pile already adorning the small stone. There are more offerings than he expects to be there. He recognises a few of the names from school. One larger bunch looks especially expensive and elaborate, monopolising most of the limited surface space.

‘From Yagi Toshinori’ the card attached reads. Katsuki doesn’t recognise the name.

He doesn’t know why he’s surprised, he didn’t know shit about Deku other than their shared ambition to be a hero.

“Deku…” Why the fuck is he having trouble talking, “You’re...” He stops.

“You’re a fucking moron,” he manages to spit.

“I didn’t need you to save me.” The anger is burning so hot that its almost unbearable. Pop, pop, his hands fizzle. “I didn’t want your help.”

BANG! He makes sure the explosion is directed away from the stone and up into the sky. The small shock wave it produces rustles the flowers and nearby trees. All the cicadas stop chirping at once, plunging the area into an eerie quiet. His legs feel shaky and he is practically vibrating with anger.

“What did you think a quirkless idiot could have done!”

Save his pathetic life while the real Heroes watch him suffocate from the side-lines? His brain supplies an answer. It was all a big joke wasn’t it? The bastards had all watched Deku die. That was what a Hero did apparently, wait for backup while someone died because it was safer for them. Safer for the Hero.

His legs give way and he falls to his knees, curling his hands into fists, jaw locking up. Finally, the haze of anger falls away and his mind quietens. Everything was painfully clear now. People didn’t care when Katsuki yelled, swore, and hurt other kids, because his quirk was amazing, making him amazing. What a joke. If he hadn’t had his quirk, then the Slime Bastard would have had nothing to work with, and Deku might still be alive.

“I’m…I’m fucking sorry okay." He had always treated Deku like shit and he doesn’t think, if their positions had been reversed…he doesn’t think that he would have even thought about saving someone like himself.

The truth stings. He slams his fist into the flagstone next to him and he watches it crack.

"I’m sorry…”

He was lucky…that’s all he was… He wasn’t special… he was just an average human with a good work ethic and a garbage personality who just happened to have a powerful quirk.

He wasn’t a hero…well, not one like Deku had tried to be…like Deku had been…

He didn’t even want to be a hero...not anymore...He doesn’t know what he wants.

“Damnit…” the words have no heat behind them. The explosive rage that had been burning continuously in his chest for the last week simmers, snuffing out like a candle. There is a hole where his anger had eaten away at something fundamentally him, leaving empty space.

Katsuki leans forward, letting his head thump against the stone.

#bnha #bnha fanfic #boku no academia #my hero academia #katsuki bakugō #major character death #Sludge Villain incident gone wrong #angst #all the angst #coarse language #swearing #anger and grief #visiting graves #katuski has a sad time #something sad au #fanfiction

24 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

She [1]

Warnings: non-consent sex (series)

This is dark! Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Synopsis: Steve Rogers’ life is turned upside down by a reporter.

Chapter Summary: You meet Steve Rogers for an interview but he’s not what you expected.

Note: I’ve been trying to chill the last five days but I obviously got some writing in. It has resulted in this impromptu series and I hope you all like it. It’s looking like it will be about 10 chapters when all is said is done but that being said, I am still working on it.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Reader

Your left ankle bent as you leaned heavily on your heel. You stood before the thick walnut door, a round frosted window on its face. The townhouse stuck out on the old Brooklyn row and all knew its resident. It surprised many that he remained in the borough and he was cherished all the more for it. He was the golden boy of New York.

Well, that’s what people like to believe. You weren’t there to paint another flowery picture of the saviour. You were there to speak with the real man behind the plan. There was a story behind Steve Rogers that had yet to be told and when you were selected to tell it, you knew you had to do it right. The task was both daunting and humbling. It could be your big break.

You knocked and adjusted the bag that hung from your shoulder. You didn’t miss the group of kids at the end of the block gathered around for a glimpse of their hero. The door opened and you were greeted by the man himself. He smiled at you as his hand rested on the curled door handle.

“Hi,” He greeted you. “Thanks for coming. It saves me a lot of trouble.”

“Not at all,” You shook his hand.

You’d spoken to him briefly over the phone and negotiated the time and place for your interview. You agreed that him coming to the office would cause too much of a flurry. You were sure he was over that.

“Come in,” He stepped back and waved you through.

He closed the door as you looked around the entryway. A thick banister with the same dark wood as the walls led up to the second level and a finely carved archway peeked through to the next room. It was cozy and a lot quainter than you expected. The exposed brick above the panelling lent it a warmth.

“Shoes?” You stopped by the mat.

“Your call,” He said. “Can I offer you something to drink?”

“Thank you, Mr. Rogers, but I’m fine,” You assured him as you stepped out of your heels. You’d hate to scuff the hardwood. “I’m sure you're just as impatient as me to begin.”

“Steve. And yeah, I suppose. I don’t really do much more than pressers and usually, I don’t do much talking.” He confessed. “Just through here,” He pointed to the front room.

You nodded and stepped through. He directed you to the pair of armchairs before the artificial fireplace and you set your bag down as you sat. He lowered himself across from you as you reached into your bag and pulled out your phone and notebook. You swiped up and flicked your finger across the screen.

“Do you mind if I record you? It helps with editing and of course, accuracy,” You said.

He scratched his jaw and shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

“Great,” You hit the red dot and set the phone down on the small table with the mic facing him.

🖋️

You were a bit surprised by how it had all unfolded, but, you supposed, you were right when you said no one was ever exactly what they seemed. Steve was nice enough as he showed you the door but you could see the agitated impatience behind his eyes. You should’ve eased him into it more. Timing was everything.

Even so, you had promised your editor a story and if you didn’t deliver after being chosen for such a coveted one, well, you would never see its likes again.

So you sat at your desk in your small but comfortable city apartment. It was nothing compared to the star-spangled hero’s walk-up but it was home. If you could work the interview the right way, it might mean an upgrade, or at least a television that didn’t flicker.

You hit play on your phone for the third time that night. Steve Rogers’ voice was etched into your brain. And that tension in his forehead, the tic in his jaw. A thinly veiled wrath unexpected of the valiant soldier-turned-saviour. You shivered and paused the recording. It was almost startling how quickly he’d turned on you, but you weren’t entirely innocent.

You stretched your fingers over the keyboard and sighed as you stared at your blinking cursor. You couldn’t just sit on this forever. You had a deadline and an extension was an impossibility, if not a death warrant for your career.

So you hit play and began to type, pausing to play back snippets as you went.

🖋️

‘It’s early afternoon in the heart of Brooklyn. Amidst the old brick buildings that line the cracked sidewalks is a townhouse unlike any other. The home of a man born there over a century ago. A living ghost that haunts the block. Most would say he is a friendly spirit.

Steve Rogers answers the door as a boy lets his baseball roll under a car and his friends lower their mitts to watch. A teen on a bike, a ring in his nose, even slows to admire the hometown hero as he smiles; a beacon of the borough. A glimmer of hope for all to think that the block is not the whole world.

He greets me like an old friend. “Hi.” The same smile seen in newsprint. He thanks me for coming and ushers me inside. This is the first time I’ve met him in person. I can’t lie; I’m intimidated. I’m just another person in debt to this great veteran.

His house isn’t what you would expect from a man as prestigious as him. No medals hanging on the wall, no vainglorious cut-outs of his image, or pictures of him shaking hands with men in suits. Only framed baseball cards along freshly laid wood-panels. It’s like any other house in Brooklyn, just newer. An ancient skeleton revived.

We sit in the front room, he offers me a drink. I’m not very thirsty. I’m more anxious to start talking. I can see he is too though his facade is hard to crack. He tells me to call him Steve as my recitations of ‘Mr. Rogers’ become almost pathetic. We begin.

Interviewer: “Great.” I hit ‘record’. “I’ll start by saying you have a nice place.”

Steve: “Thanks.” He seems to relax as he leans back in the chair which is nearly too narrow for his broad shoulders. “It took a while but I think it’s coming together.”

Interviewer: “Can’t take the boy out of Brooklyn, I guess.”

Steve: “Wouldn’t leave it for the world.” He smiles again, though he never truly looks less than amiable.

I: “Only to save it,”

S: “I do what I can.

I: “More than most; New York, Sekovia, the world. You’ve done it all. Do you ever just take a break?”

S: “I try. And sometimes I get a chance to just… be here.”

He looks around, proud of himself, of his home.

I: “Any hobbies?”

S: “You know, I used to love to draw. Nothing special, you know. But I found it calming. I actually bought a bunch of pencils and a pad but I never touched them. I’m sure they're just sitting up in my closet, neglected.”

I listen intently, imagining this man bent over a notebook. It’s an absurd picture as my mind returns to the man in his cowl with shield in hand. The red, white, and blue bullseye is more suiting in my head than a pen.

I: “Anything else? Anything you actually do?”

S: “I like to run. Helps me get to know my neighbours, reconnect with my roots. I read… a little. I’m still not really into the whole internet thing but I try. I still get the newspaper just to read the strips and fill in the weekly crosswords.”

He confirms my suspicion. A man lost in time, but it seems he has found his place.

I: “A man for all times. And you work? I’m sure you get tired of talking about it but well, there’s been a lot of speculation about a possible retirement.”

He ‘s silent as he looks away and fidgets in his chair. He becomes the rehearsed hero at his podium.

S: “I’d hate to fan that fire but I think it’s only natural to consider it.”

I: “Thinking of settling down?”

S: “It’s always a thought but I’m not stupid. It’s not that simple. I’m not the type of man that gets to settle down.”

This remark might break the heart of every woman in Brooklyn and beyond but it seems to hurt him more. A grim truth for a man who many would say has the world in his hands.

I: “And if you did hang up the shield, is there anything you want to do? Anywhere you want to go?”

S: “I’d like to try fishing. I’ve heard it’s relaxing. I love the city but it’s nice to get away now and then.”

I: “Is there anything keeping you from retiring? Besides the obvious; we all know you’re a good man and a great hero. You’ve shown commitment to the city, the world, humanity.”

He looks to the artificial fireplace and shrugs. He’s thinking; perhaps censoring his response.

I: “Co-workers? The world is well aware of what you did for your old friend. And it has proven to be a point of contention, even after the pardon.”

He clears his throat and he’s no longer smiling.

S: “Bucky is an old friend and a commendable soldier. He does his job well. I wouldn’t take anything back. He has more than earned his place.”

I: “So, if you retired, you believe that he would retain his place among the team?”

He’s frowning now. He adjusts his posture so that he seems even bigger than before. A formidable opponent, if not an overwhelming one.

S: “He is not there because of me. He’s there because of himself. Because he is an asset to the world.”

His blue eyes are darker now. No longer the crystalline waves shining in the sun but those foreboding tides which crash together beneath the moonless sky. My ship has gone awry, carried by an errant wind.

I: “Well, I can’t help but point out that many wouldn’t agree. You put yourself and several of your associates on the line to save him. To bring him into your fold. To place a man who was once a national enemy beside you. I hate to say it but, frankly, even if he were pardoned on his own merit, I fail to imagine him being allowed the same access to confidential intelligence and tasked with the protection of civilian life.”

His hands are fists. I could put up a front and say I’m not nervous, but I am. I have done what I once thought impossible. I have angered Steve Rogers.

S: “He wasn’r Bucky, but he is now and he has been cleared. I’m sorry, but I thought you were here to talk about me.”

I: “Yes, I am, but the world is well aware of your friendship with Mr. Barnes and all its implications. It is hard to separate him from your life.”

S: “I agreed to talk about me.”

His tone is set in stone. I attempt to stay calm myself.

I: “We are talking about you, but we can move on. Now, even with its dissolution, there are still questions being asked about the Sokovia Accords and your opposition to it. While many can acknowledge the need for your team and their work, they can’t help but wonder at the lack of restraints placed upon it. There are regulations even for the FBI and CIA and other protective services. So why should you be exempt?”

He sniffs and stands up slowly. He retreats behind his chair and nears a table along the wall. He distracts himself with a signed baseball. I don’t have a chance to ask who scribbled along the stitches as he tosses it and finds his voice.

S: “I never disagreed with the sentiment of the Accords. As heroes, of course, we should have obligations. Our first and foremost being the protection of innocent lives. The hardest to uphold but we do it.”

He is ever the statesman but he isn’t finished and his voice gets low. Dangerous, even.

S: “At the same time, we put our own lives on the line and you come here and nag me about formalities? What is it you want? Paperwork? Reports on how I threw my shield to stop a bullet from striking an innocent bystander? How a piece of shrapnel nearly severed my tendon as I threw myself in front of a speeding vehicle?”

I: “With all due respect, I am only asking about transparency. People deserve to know more. They deserve the truth.”

S: “Is that what you’re looking for? The truth? You want to know what we don’t tell you and your readers?”

He puts the baseball down and his hand is on his hip, disapproving. I suspect his lecture will continue. He nears the chair and grips the back of it as he narrows his eyes at me. I fear he might throw it in my direction though for now, I hope it should act as my own shield against him.

S: “About how I have to lie about how many men I lose to keep this world safe. Because I can’t scare the people. Because I have to keep on this mask of the brave hero.”

His eyes go to the ceiling. He takes a breath to calm himself. I can tell he wants to continue. That he is holding back something which has brewed within him for a very long time. It is a moment before he speaks again.

S: “We’re done here. That’s it. Turn your phone off and go.”

The interview is over. What happens next will remain off the record. I leave with a mouth full of bile. My childlike wonder has been extinguished. I came to seek out the man behind the shield and I have done just that, but he is not who I expected.

I was ready for a humble man, a man like any of us; the same wants and desires. Still human despite his enhancements; despite his superhuman status. What I discovered was a man who’s exceptionality has nurtured a sense of entitlement.

And we do owe him our lives, our gratitude, we owe him the world. Yet I cannot dismiss the sense that he might regret his good deeds. That to him, it has become a thankless chore. That we are the needy children and he has been burdened with our cries for help.

So we should not be surprised or upset upon his retirement, not if, but when it comes. And we cannot fault him for his departure. It has been a long-time coming.’

🖋️

You took a breath and sat back in your chair. You rubbed your cheeks as the recording began to repeat itself. You stopped it and checked the time. You’d spend your morning editing and hope you would be ready for submission by the evening.

As you hit save, you felt an odd tremor deep inside. This could be it. Your big story. Or you could be tired and entirely up your own ass. You only hoped it was the former.

🖋️

You sat across from Poppy as she read your article through the glasses which sat low on her long nose. She was just past forty and wouldn’t look it if she didn’t wear the ridiculous half-circle spectacles. She wore a shade of red which paid homage to her name and her lipstick was just as bold. Her long lashes flicked up as she lowered the pages and her blonde hair fell behind her shoulder.

“Well…” She said carefully. “It is…interesting.”

You swallowed nervously as you teetered on the edge of the acrylic seat. Her long manicured nails played with the corner of the article.

“I had initially planned to have this in the back pages. No one really cares about the Avengers anymore.” She said. “But this is… I will discuss it with our marketing team but I know a feature when I see it.”

“A feature?” Your lips parted and you sat back as you gripped the thin arms of the chair.

“Oh, yes,” She said. “Another celebrity break-up is not exactly scandalous and to be frank, I do tire of that ridiculous narrative. But this… you will be hearing from me soon.”

“Uh,” You stood awkwardly at what you were sure was a dismissal. “Thank you.”

“For what? Doing my job? Should I thank you for doing yours?” She countered.

“N-no,” You stuttered.

“Go on then. I’m certain you have other work to do.” She tapped her long nails. “You certainly will once this is ready to print.”

You nodded and left her. She was already on her phone before the door closer behind you and you looked around the blindly bright office. It would be your first feature and it was the first article which had earned you more than a passive grumble from the woman. Perhaps you hadn’t been so foolish to think you had actually done something well.

#Steve Rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #she #dark fic #dark!fic #au #series #fic #mcu #marvel #captain america

610 notes · View notes

faulty-writes · 4 years

Note

Headcanons for Pro heroes Tenya, Izuku, and Mirio meet their soulmate... but she's a villain! A villain who's REALLY bad at BEING bad. The other heroes and police don't even take her seriously anymore, usually choosing to just outright ignore her since she's so harmless in her efforts to be bad, treating her more like 'the village idiot' than an actual threat, even though she actually has a super powerful quirk that has the potential to be incredibly dangerous.

[ Yeeeeeees. Something with my boy, Tenya. I love him to pieces! ]

Tenya Iida

The first time he met you it was in the middle of you trying to rob a jewelry store, but it appeared as though you were merely exchanging various jewelry pieces as opposed to actually stealing. But even so, Tenya felt something in his heart that day and though he had heard of you, he also heard of the way others treated you and while you were classified as a villain. He didn’t fully believe that.

It was quite unheroic of him, but he often saught you out. “Halt villain!” he called as he stood there dressed in his Ingenium costume, and once more he felt his heart pull toward you. “Ingenium!?” you snapped and growled as you tightened your fists. “Back off hero or I will assassinate this child!” you threatened as you grabbed the dummy doll you had or rather it was a custom made silicone copy of a child. Your latest plan involved something with kidnapping children, but Ingenium merely laughed at your efforts. Though not out of pity, he genuinely thought you were adorable.

He knew the police would often ignore your efforts, which in a way didn’t sit right with him. Even if you didn’t fit the role of a villain, you still deserved some positive recognition, and while he knew of his feelings toward you. Knew that you were his so-called soulmate, he’d often put on an act whenever you two fought. Pretending to be injured by your advances until the day you showed him what your quirk could really do and it nearly took his life. However, when he recovered enough to be discharged from the hospital. The first thing he did was track you down, you were busy writing down your ideas for your next evil plot when you heard him and snarled.

“Ingenium! I demand you leave at once before I kill you!” you snapped and he chuckled. “I believe if you wished for my death, you would have done so already. My love,” he said and though his words made you blush, you shook your head. “I am not your love! Stop saying that hero! You disgust me!” you hissed. Though in all truth you knew he was correct, you had felt the pull as well and while you had the desire to hug him. Stay close to him, protect him even if you were so bad at protecting yourself. You knew you couldn’t. “Your quirk is rather impressive. Please tell me more,” he said and you felt your heart sink.

“W-Why would I tell you! Ingenium you will get in trouble if you are found associating with a villain!” you hissed, unsure of why you cared so much. He took a seat on the ground and shrugged, “Perhaps it is rather stupid of me, but you are my soulmate and I believe such a thing takes priority and I would truly like to know more about you.” he said and your heart skipped a beat at the sight of his smile. “You’re going to regret this ...” you whispered and he shrugged in response. “Perhaps, perhaps not. May I get your real name?” you jumped in surprise, he wanted to know that? Your blush deepened, “Y/n.” you said and watched as Ingenium held his hand out. “Tenya Iida and if may so be bold as to make the following statement. Your future husband.”

Izuku Midoriya

When he first met you, his face lit up like a firecracker and somehow deep inside him he knew that his search for love was over. Of course, as the number one hero. He hadn’t given much thought to love, thinking that it was going to be impossible to find his soulmate. Sure he had pondered about it, but he never actually thought it would happen. Yet, there you were. Trying to drown someone in a stream that you quickly found out was too low to do such a thing. He thought it was a little silly and you had a small quarrel before he watched you disappear.

He knew he should take villain threats seriously, but he also found it a little frustrating that the authorities didn’t take you seriously. One day, he had arrived on the scene of you trying to hook up a television and satellite so you could broadcast your latest evil plan. The boys in blue were laughing and you were standing there, arms crossed with a red face. Deku had asked you if everything was alright and you hissed, “Back off hero or I’ll show you the meaning of pain!” But Deku just laughed and pulled you into a hug, which you didn’t expect. “You’re so cute,” he said and you growled in frustration.

You didn’t expect a hero of all people to be after you, but Deku seemed persistent in tracking you down. In fact, it always seemed like he knew where you were at all times. Given, you felt that connection with him, but you refused to believe a pitful hero was your soulmate. Yet, Deku continued to remind you of that and had even saved you when you were plotting your next evil scheme on top of a building. It involved a rocket and some type of extreme itching power. But during your villain speech, you stepped too far and fell off the edge of the building. That was the first time anyone had saved you and though, you didn’t want to admit. You were blushing as Deku held you in his arms.

You had tried to branch out to other villains, believing that by making some connections your reputation would be boosted, and perhaps you’d even be considered feared. But even the villains rejected you, claiming that you were nothing more than a mockery. When the authorities later arrived on the scene, there was blood splatter and dead bodies everywhere. Obviously a powerful quirk at work, you were hiding behind a pillar when Deku arrived as well. You watched as his head turned and his stare fixated on you. For a moment you felt afraid of that stare. Weeks had passed since that incident and Deku managed to corner you after another scheme had gone wrong.

“Why do you keep following me, hero!?” you growled, “That was you that caused all that destruction. You have a powerful quirk, huh?” he questioned before stepping closer, and you shot your hands out, a pink glow surrounding them. “Don’t make me hurt you.” the threat came out of your mouth in a hiss, but Deku seemed unphased and grabbed your hands. Pulling them against his chest, the fabric of his hero suit began to burn. “Do it then,” he challenged before leaning over, pressing his hand to the side of your face. “Even if you hurt me, even if you aren’t a true villain. You are still my soulmate and that will never change,” he said before pulling you close, and for a moment, you felt the unfamiliar sensation of a tear roll down your cheek.

Mirio Togata

Lemillion was the number 2 hero on the charts, feared and admired by heroes and villains everywhere. However, most would think a hero would keep the fact that a villain was their soulmate under wraps. Not Lemillion. During an interview, he had talked about how he ran into you, laughs sounded from the crowd as you were known as nothing more than a joke. But Lemillion only smiled and stood up, “Hey now! That happens to my soulmate you’re laughing at! Sure they may not be threatening, but they have creativity and a sense of never giving up! That’s admirable.” of course, he received backlash from his statement. But he carried on as positive as ever.

Frankly, as a villain you didn’t care about heroes. But Lemillion was something else and because of him, your reputation went further down the drain. No villain or hero would take you seriously. Despite your plans being well, less than perfect. Jewelry store robbery? It went wrong. Theft? You ended up stealing the plastic replica of the real thing, but each and every time something went wrong. Lemillion was there and you were beginning to hate his flowing red cape and smile. Despite the fact that smile made your heart race.

Whenever you saw him, he’d always greet you with a “Hey there, sunshine! Did your plan go wrong again? Well, that’s okay! Just keep trying.” you’d always throw a punch at him but he’d only grab it and pull you in for a hug. You’d blush as you struggled to get out of his grip and the authorities would always laugh at the display of the hero hugging the wannabe villain. There was even a newspaper article about it, “Lemillion Hugs for Lonely Villain.” God, you wanted to burn all those newspapers and you would have if you didn’t run out of lighter fluid.

One day it seemed like you were out of ideas, you were standing on the rooftop of a building. Different scenarios running through your head only to have Lemillion interrupt them. You growled, “Will you leave me alone!?” you snapped before using your quirk and watched as a large explosion sounded near Lemillion. However, he was clever and before you knew it, he had his arms around you. “Let me go!” you growled as you began to kick and Lemillion laughed, “How can I let my soulmate go?” he replied and though you blushed, verbal threats continued to pour out of your mouth. It was beginning to weigh you down, not being an actual threat. Not playing the part of a villain well enough.

Yet, somehow you blamed it on the fact that a hero was your soulmate. Of course, you felt a connection with Lemillion. Yet you knew it wouldn’t work out regardless of how he continued to chase you. “Don’t you get it!?” you snapped one day, “I’m a villain! You’re a hero! I’m pathetic and you ...you just ...you get all this praise and you actually do your job and-” a scream caught in your throat when Lemillion pulled you close, pressing his lips against yours. You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach before he pulled away with a smile. “You do a wonderful job, but maybe being a villain isn’t your thing? Maybe that’s why you’re my soulmate because we were meant to work side by side!” you could hardly believe his words.

#tenya x reader #izuku x reader #mirio x reader #iida x reader #midoriya x reader #togata x reader #bnha requests #bnha x multicharacter #Anonymous

389 notes · View notes

hopelesshawks · 3 years

Text

Physical Fatality Part 7- Good For You

18+ Hawks x fem, pro hero!reader

Summary: You’re a rising star in All Might’s agency. Hawks is the darling of Endeavor’s. By virtue of your job descriptions, the two of you are supposed to hate each other, or at the very least be cautiously neutral. For a long time that’s exactly what the two of you did. You stayed out of each other’s way and formed little opinion of the other. One fateful night at an HPSC gala changes all that. Based on the album Hopeless Fountain Kingdom by Halsey.

If you don’t want to see Physical Fatality content blacklist #hopelesspf

This story will have multiple NSFW parts so it is 18+ ONLY minors dni

Warning for alcoholism

Masterlist

The next month or so is pure bliss. With Hawks fully committed the weird moments of distance have stopped and with them so has the fighting. Not to say that it’s easy, task force work has meant some nights where you have to sleep in different cities or you work opposing shifts so you don’t have time to see each other. Even still, the two of you make it work.

Hawks is good for you. Your nightly routine used to almost always involve at least a few drinks. At first it was a way to keep nightmares away, then it was a way to cope with Monoma’s criticisms, and eventually it became a habit. Now your nightly routine has joint showers or bubble baths, music playing over speakers, gentle kisses and even gentler touches. One night, after you mentioned that your mother’s favorite song had been Put Your Head On My Shoulder by Paul Anka, Hawks had insisted on putting it on and slow dancing around your kitchen. Mina had walked in on the two of you and absolutely swooned at the sight. You’d sworn her to secrecy but the minute she realized Bakugo also knew she’d begged Kirishima for Bakugo’s number so she could gush about how precious you and Hawks are. The explosive blonde doesn’t appreciate Mina’s excessive messaging but he puts up with it because in all honesty he and Midoriya are both proud of you. So proud, in fact, that they brought a cupcake with a little candle on it to work for you to celebrate one month of sobriety. You mostly certainly did not cry no matter what anyone else says.

You’re good for Hawks too. For once he’s appreciating life outside of work. He looks forward to the moment he can sneak into your apartment or you his, and just spend time together just the two of you. It’s to the point where he just doesn’t sleep the same when you’re not in his arms. He loves collecting little facts about you, like how you look first thing in the morning and what you like for breakfast and what playlist you listen to when you’re getting dressed. He wants to catalogue every tiny detail about you. He wonders if, under normal circumstances, you’d like PDA. If he didn’t work for Endeavor and you didn’t work for All Might would you love holding his hand or let him wrap his arm around you as you walked? With each passing day Hawks hates more and more the fact that he can’t announce his love for you to the world. He takes what can get and enjoys the stolen moments, but not being able to enjoy casual affection with you outside of the task force and the privacy of your own homes is difficult. Which is probably why, when he spots you walking towards All Might’s agency as he’s flying there himself, he decides another stolen moment can’t hurt.

He spots an alley a little ahead of you and decides to drop in for one last stolen moment before you shift into work mode. As he lands he sends a couple feathers to you to let you know where he is. You follow them into the alley and the moment you’re in view Hawks reaches out to grasp your forearm and pull you into him, pressing a kiss to your lips. You sink into it for a moment as Hawks wraps his arms around your waist but then you gently push him back. “What if someone sees?” you ask, looking back behind you out towards the street, but Hawks gently grasps your chin and turns you back to face him. “No one will see Dove,” he assures you before pressing you to the wall to kiss you again. You have to admit it’s hard to say no when he’s on you like this so you relax into it and let yourself just enjoy the affection and his gentle touches. You feel your phone buzz in your pocket and pull away to check it, finding a text from Midoriya letting you know he would be getting to the agency soon. “We should go,” you tell Hawks. “I don’t want to though,” he whines. You roll your eyes and push him back gently. “Come on, we’ve got hero work to do,” you laugh and Hawks relents, aware that you’re right and these stolen moments can’t last forever. But as he watches you walk out the alley he’s struck with the thought that he’s really sick of the secrecy. He’ll tell Endeavor after the meeting, he decides, and then tonight he’ll talk with you about it.

Tokoyami has finally confirmed that the group he’s been following were the culprits behind the attempted attack. He was able to link a few members to maintenance workers on shift the night in question and then cross checked their identities against security cam footage. It was still unclear who was running the whole operation so there was certainly more work to be done and you all would have to tread carefully in your surveillance from now on, but at least it’s clear who to watch. The meeting ends after all of you have hashed out a new surveillance schedule. As everyone gets ready to head out Hawks stops you. “Hey, I need to swing by Endeavor’s, but afterwards can we talk?” he asks. “Sure. Mina is having people over so I’ll meet you at your place,” you reply easily. “Great, I’ll catch you later,” Hawks says before leaving the room. He mentally prepares himself for whatever the fallout with Endeavor will be as he heads out the building and then takes off to the other side of town.

He didn’t expect to be nervous standing outside Endeavor’s office. He didn’t need Endeavor’s approval to date you and he was well aware that Endeavor was typically anything but rational when it came to All Might and all those associated. Still, a traitorously optimistic part of him wants his loyalty to Endeavor to be rewarded with acceptance of his love for you. He doesn’t need or want a new father, but he won’t deny the somewhat paternal nature of his relationship with his mentor. So maybe that’s why he has to take a deep breath to steel himself before he reaches up and knocks on Endeavor’s door.

“Come in,” comes the gruff voice from behind the door. Hawks walks in to find Endeavor sitting at his desk leafing through the day’s incident reports. “I need to talk to you about something important,” Hawks states, not bothering to beat around the bush. “What is it?” Endeavor asks, his eyes not straying from the papers in front of him. “I’m seeing someone,” Hawks says. “Your personal life is really none of my business Hawks.” “I’m glad you think that way because I’m seeing Artemis from All Might’s agency.” Endeavor freezes, placing the papers down and finally giving Hawks his attention. “I beg your pardon?” he asks. “I’m dating (y/n) (y/l/n), aka Artemis, of All Might’s agency,” Hawks repeats. “I put you on that task force to catch terrorists not flirt with our rivals.” “She and I met before the formation of the task force. Both of us being assigned to it was a coincidence.” “Really?” “Really.” “I don’t believe you Hawks.” “I can tell you the whole story if you want?” “Very well.”

And that’s exactly what Hawks does. He tells a, PG-13, version of you and his love story from that first fateful moment he talked to you at the gala to today, and all the beautiful moments in between. That optimistic part of him hopes that maybe, if Endeavor just understands how much he loves you, then maybe he won’t freak out over this. “You really love her don’t you? More than those other women?” Endeavor asks and Hawks feels a glimmer of hope as he replies “I do,” without a second thought. He doesn’t know how exactly he expected Endeavor to react. He certainly wasn’t expecting the reaction he got. “I thought you were smarter than this Hawks,” Endeavor sighs. “Excuse me?” Hawks asks. “I should have known a young, pretty upstart from his agency would pull something like this. Hawks she’s using you,” Endeavor insists. Hawks reels back as if struck and immediately he’s filled with an anger he’s never felt for his mentor before. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he warns icily. “If she’s so in love with you why all the secrecy?” Endeavor presses. “She got out of an engagement to Monoma recently and she can’t afford a bad headline,” Hawks defends. “Or is it that she doesn’t want the press to find out she’s using you. Awfully convenient isn’t it? That she didn’t leave her fiancé until after she had usurped him in the hero rankings.” “It isn’t like that, she didn’t even know who I was when we met.” “Don’t be so naive. How could she not know it was you Hawks? How many other heroes do you know with bright red wings.” Hawks doesn’t have a response for that. It’s a good point. He hates that it’s a good point. “I think she clocked you at the gala, then decided to further capitalize when she realized you were also on the task force. I know my son and his friends may have convinced you that the feud is only in my and All Might’s heads now, but I assure you it is alive and well amongst the vast majority of the heroes in our agencies. Lose the girl, Hawks,” Endeavor insists. “And if I say no?” Hawks asks, and he can feel his heart breaking because Endeavor has a point but he wants so desperately for him to be wrong. “If you say no then I’ll know you’re compromised and will have no choice but to pull you from the task force and reconsider your current position within this agency. I wouldn’t be able to trust you not to leak information to Artemis. Have I made myself clear?” “Crystal.” “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow Hawks.”

Hawks turns and leaves in a fog. Is it possible Endeavor is right? Has this been a game to you this whole time? He thought it himself that first day of the task force, the lower ranks of both agencies are still deeply entrenched in the rivalry. That had been your day-to-day up until what, a year ago? Of course you’d be more likely to believe in the rivalry and the stereotypes than Bakugo and Midoriya. And sure, it made sense that you would want to keep the relationship a secret when barely a day had passed since your broken engagement but it’s been months now. Surely if you care as deeply for him as he does you, you’d be eager to let the world know. Surely sufficient time has passed for the two of you to declare your love without you taking heat for it. Not to mention that Endeavor is right about Hawks’ identity not exactly being a secret in any scenario precisely because of his wings. There’s no way you couldn’t have known who he was, so why pretend as if you didn’t if not to take advantage of him? The questions turn over and over in Hawks’ head as he makes his way home. Even once there he paces his living room trying to find any way for all the pieces to fit together that doesn’t point to you using him. If things were different, Hawks may have played things out anyway, let himself cautiously believe in your love and wait for a betrayal. But Endeavor had made it clear that continuing his love affair with you would have dire consequences for his career and if you don’t love him all he’ll have left is his career.

There’s a knock on the door.

It’s you.

Of course it’s you....

He had almost forgotten he asked you to talk after he ran his errand at Endeavor’s agency. He was hoping for more time but he supposes now is as good a time as any to rip off the bandage. God his heart hurts. His heart hurts so goddamn much but he knows what he has to do.

He should’ve known better than to believe in fairytales.

He opens the door for you and immediately you can tell something’s wrong. “Hey I uh tried calling to double check if you were home yet but you weren’t picking up so I just swung by,” you explain sheepishly, the weird energy coming from Hawks making you anxious. “We need to talk,” Hawks says and the way he says it is ominous. You can feel your heart sinking and you hate it. What went wrong? Just this morning things were perfect. “I can sometimes treat the people that I love like jewelry,” Hawks admits, but he won’t look at you as he does so. “What does that mean Kei? What’s going on?” you ask and Hawks flinches when you reference his real name. He’s never done that before. You just want to understand what’s going on in that head of his but he’s blank in a way you haven’t seen in a long time. “I try them on and change my mind each day about them. I didn’t mean to try you on (y/n), it just happened,” he confesses. Your heart sinks even further.

It’s a lie. It’s a lie. It’s a lie. It was true of the previous women he’d dated, yes, but the reason he knows that now is precisely because it was always different with you. He knows your birthday and your mother’s favorite song. You know his past and real name. God he hates this but he always does it. He runs away when things are good because he’s scared of what will happen and he always has regrets afterwards. Not this time, he reminds himself, because you’ve been faking this whole time. And of course you were. He never understood the way you laid your eyes on him in ways that no one else ever could. Never understood how you could see past the broken pieces of him. “I don’t love you anymore,” he lies and each word is ash on his tongue and he needs to see your reaction now so he can know he did the right thing. He needs the final confirmation of your betrayal. But oh how wrong he is. When he finally looks at you his heart fractures far worse than if Endeavor were right, because you look how he feels right now. God you look absolutely crushed. But it’s not like he can take anything he’s said back now. It’s too late. It’s too late and so it seems he’s broken your heart and his own. His ignorance and faith in Endeavor have struck again. He failed to see or believe that you loved him as much as you claimed and now he’s torn you open.

“I’m sorry,” he says but he doesn’t elaborate on what he’s sorry for. He knows you’ll fill in the blanks incorrectly but it’s what he deserves for having such little faith in you. You’ll think he’s sorry for falling out of love with you but that’s not it at all. He’s sorry that he can’t believe that anybody ever really falls in love with him. He’s sorry he was so blind he couldn’t see that there was no way you could ever be faking what the two of you had. He didn’t mean to leave you and all of the things the two of you had behind, but it’s too late now to take it back. “Keigo please,” you beg and you sound small and broken in a way he has never once seen you. “Someone will love you (y/n), but someone isn’t me,” he says and it’s the final nail in a coffin of his own creation. “Fuck you Hawks,” is the last thing you spit out before storming out of his apartment. Someone will love you, he assures himself. It hurts now but someday, someone will love you that deserves you. That someone just isn’t him it seems. He keeps trying to convince himself of that as he numbly goes to his empty bed.

You don’t remember anything about the walk home. You move as if through a void, nothing else around you, nothing else matters. All that you can feel and perceive is the pain in your chest. How could he just fall out of love with you? You know his love was genuine, you know it from the bottom of your heart because he wasn’t lying about no one knowing his real name. He wasn’t lying about his past being a secret. Yet he had trusted you with all of it. So why was he abandoning you now? It doesn’t make sense. None of it does. All you know is that it fucking hurts. When you finally get to your apartment, you ignore Mina and her company and head straight for your kitchen, grabbing a bottle of liquor you can’t even bother to properly identify before heading to your room and locking yourself in. You sit down on your bed and the pain is still hollowing you out so you drink.

And you drink.

And you drink...

Author’s Note: I’m so sorry

Taglist [open]: @akkaso @cathy8taffy @eeppff @iikillerkitteh @pixelwisp

#hopelesspf #hawks #wing hero hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n

44 notes · View notes

jalaluvsu · 4 years

Text

Interference

https://beautiful-disasters-sunshine.tumblr.com/post/631749044177403904/what-if-marinette-was-tims-little-sister-who-was

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

“Y’know, just ‘cause Kori’s got a baby coming doesn’t mean you can boss us around Robin,” Beastboy whined as he stepped out of the Zeta Tube.

He scoffed at the notion, “That’s literally exactly what I can and will do, you absolute buffoon.”

“Oh, shutup.”

He sighed. There isn’t ever a moment where Garfield doesn’t wish Starfire still led the Titans. The past three weeks have gone by at an agonizingly slow pace, filled with never ending fights between him and Damian. And! Before you get the wrong impression, no, he did not start these fights. In fact, he was practically the one getting attacked!

Really, what’d you expect him to do when Damian insulted tofu during dinner at the Waynes’? Smile and wave?

Laughable.

Garfield will tell you what happened after, whether he’s proud is a matter of who asks. Let’s just say Alfred’s put him on a month-long ban from the dining room at the manor; worth it, nonetheless.

“Beastboy, earth to Beastboy,” He heard Raven chant over comms. Oh, right, the mission.

“Reporting for duty!” he saluted obediently, like the responsible hero he is.

“Stop standing there and you know, actually read the coordinates I sent to your navigator,” he grinned at her snark as he pulled out his compact. A hefty amount of unchecked notifications was in its wake.

Automated message coupons from the local pizza place at Jump City (hell yeah!)

Missed calls from Terra, he faltered at the offending contact; as if he would respond. The time for that has passed, long passed.

He scrolled down the small screen as he flitted his gaze past the hundreds of junk mail. Ah, and lastly, one lengthy preview of information regarding the mission. The text listed an address along with...enrollment details? Huh.

Garfield glanced both ways before crossing the busy street; him previously being in the too-bright alleyway.

Okay, see, he knows what you’re thinking. Someone like him- or rather someone who looked like him, would stick out like a sore thumb. Especially in a place like Paris. How common were metahumans here? Probably not as high as the rate in Metropolis, that’s for sure.

There were only so many green colored people, and a good ninety-nine percent was or is associated with heroes (vigilantes, fine) or even aliens. That being said, he was keeping it on the down-low. In Paris, he wasn’t the cool, collected, and most desired by all Garfield Logan. In Paris, he was just Grant Roth. What? It’s a good cover! And he was planning on taking Raven’s surname eventually anyways. (wink wink, nudge nudge)

A few spells and enchantments via Magical Goth Gf ™ prior to his ride in the tubes later; he practically looked uncanny to his appearance before the whole ‘failed experiment injection’ thing. You know, a mop of auburn hair, pale as paper skin, and cutesy little freckles (Blue Beetle’s words, not his) (Okay, maybe it was his too..)

Garfield pulled out his pocketed compact once he safely made it across the street. Now that he gave more than a glance at the address it looked...short. In fact, it was vague, extremely vague. He discreetly looked around for any eavesdroppers and lowered his voice to a whisper as he walked down the 21st arrondissement.

“Uh, guys? Where exactly am I supposed to go?”

He hated not knowing how to do something he was expected to, incredibly so.

“I was hoping you’d dispose of your body there,” he paused, "but since you asked so nicely, we’ll tell you.” Robin chimed in matter-of-factly.

Garfield could practically feel the next set of words. He didn’t know what they were, but they were going to suck. He just knew it.

Raven took a long swig of coffee before announcing the dreaded news, “We’ve signed you up for a foreign exchange student program,”

Ah,

“You what?!” he shrieked. A couple of onlookers gave him dirty glances, he smiled sheepishly.

Blue Beetle toggled his audio, “C’mon Gar-“ Robin interrupted,

“No names on field!”

“Shutuuuuup,” he drawled out.

“Anyways, Beastboy,’’ cue pointed glare at Robin,’’ did you really think we’d let you roam around without a leash for what? Three months? In a foreign country of all places?” Garfield could practically hear the smirk in his voice, the fucker.

“I was hoping, yeah!” Damn. He thought he would get away with them actually trusting him here alone, wishful thinking on his part.

He pouted at the idea as he scouted for a place to lounge in.

Raven huffed, “You’ll be living with a host family during your stay at Paris, if it wasn’t clear enough already.”

He froze; what other surprises were up their sleeves?!

“C’mon, be real for a sec. I’m a superhero, I don’t need to go to public school, I don’t need a couple of strangers!” he stressed as he weaved between crowds of Parisians.

Ooh, a bench. He sat with the intent of winning this argument, no matter the consequence. So what if he looked crazy, supposedly talking to himself? Priorities people, priorities.

“Doom Patrol’s strict orders, you know, ‘cause they can’t homeschool you a whole continent away,” Jamie deadpanned.

Garfield dragged a hand down his face. Stupid Doom Patrol, stupid worrying for his wellbeing. “But- it’s a mission!” he gestured rapidly, in clear exasperation.

Jaime tsked, “And? Gotta keep that brain of yours in tip-top shape, amigo!”

“Whatever, man;” he got up to dust himself off, “still don’t know how that’s related to the address on the Seine but- “

“They live there, your host family,” Raven supplied.

Garfield scratched his chin in wonder. Who lives in a body of water? That’s so- Wait. His friends were totally holding out on him!

“You guys didn’t tell me I’d be staying with Aquaman! That makes this ten times better!”

What were the chances that the man himself was in Paris too? They can bond over sea creatures, and Garfield could show him his animal transformations! This mission wasn’t so bad, it wasn’t bad at all. He had an extra skip in his step as he pranced down the pavement.

“Are you entirely brain dead?” Robin audibly face palmed,

”No, you’re not- you know what? Yes, you’re going to be living with Aquaman. At a river. In France,” quiet murmurs along the lines of ‘idiot, and ‘cómo adorable,’ sounded out from his remaining teammates.

“This is gonna be so awesome!” Garfield exclaimed giddily.

He spotted a boulangerie-pâtisserie a couple blocks away. Aha! Time to get him some sweet, sweet, treats. And hopefully, some directions.

“Robin spent weeks doing full analysis on the whole family,” Jaime grinned over the comm.

Raven cut in, “Even though it was incredibly self-destructive, “

Analysis? On the King of Atlantis? Boy, no one was safe from Damian’s wrath.

“Awww. You do care, Robin!” he cooed as he entered the bakery.

Robin gasped, affronted, “Don’t flatter yourself! I needed to make sure you wouldn’t feel obligated to blabber all our secrets, obviously.”

“Better than nothing, I suppose,” Garfield shrugged to himself, but quickly zipped his lips shut once someone came into view.

“The Couffaines are...adequate at best;” he quieted, “well, at least from what I could infer before I was so viciously torn away from my research!” was sniffed hotly.

Couffaines? Was that a code name?

“If I didn’t know any better Robin,” Jaime mused, “I’d think you were taking after Tim, especially with how many late nights you’ve had...”

A beat.

Garfield ignored the squabble taking place in his left ear, opting to chat with the kind looking, lady at the register.

“Hello! What can I do for-“ she looked up from tying her apron,

“Oh! You must be new here; I don’t recognize you,”

Garfield offered his hand, “Hah, yeah! I was just walkin’ around town. I’m Grant, by the way,’’ he silently praised himself for remembering his alias.

She shook it firmly, “Sabine.”

A warm smile was sent his way before she gestured to the variety of sweets on display. His mouth watered at the sight and contemplated his choices, no matter how hard it was. ‘’What would you recommend?’’ he whispered, completely in awe.

Sabine paused to give him a once-over before lighting up. ‘’Well, you don’t strike me as a tart kind of guy so, how do you feel about chocolate?’’

‘’Love it.’’

‘’Great! My husband just put out some fresh Pain Au Chocolates before you came in!’’ Score. His luck hadn’t completely run out.

‘’That sounds fire! I’ll have that,’’ he exclaimed cheerfully.

She blinked at his wording, ‘’Pardon?’’

What? Did she not unders- Oh.‘’Sorry, American slang. It means cool!’’ he rushed out.

She mulled it over, ‘’Ah, okay. Well, coming right up!’’ Sabine opened the glass in search of the Pain Au Chocolates.

“Don’t ever compare me to that insufferable fool, -“

He snickered, “Your brother?”

Robin fumed, “-you complete and utter nincompoop!”

“Now, now, don’t use big boy words on me,” Jaime taunted.

“I’ll show you ‘big boy’ words-! “

Garfield faux scratched his ear in favor of switching off the comm as he watched Sabine bag the treats. He grinned in thanks once handed to him.

“If that’ll be all...?” She trailed off.

He wasn’t really paying any mind as he took a big whiff of the sweets. His thoughts floated over to a haven filled with a never-ending overflow of pastries. Ah, what’s stopping him from staying here forever? A pat on his shoulder, apparently.

“Hm?” Garfield found the petite baker leaning over the counter with a patient smile.

“Sorry, I totally zoned out! Did you say something?” he rubbed his neck bashfully.

She chuckled, “I asked if there’s anything else I could do for you, sweetie.”

If there anything else she could- Right! Yes, he needed to know where the hell he was staying at. Garfield fumbled for his phone, luckily for him he copied the address into his Notes app.

“Yeah actually! Well, not food wise but, I’m here in Paris for,” he blanched momentarily, “uh, an exchange program; and I have a like host family here, right?” he gestured to his voice; the American accent evident.

She nodded.

He continued, “And I don’t really uh, like, know exactly where I’m supposed to meet them. I was wondering if you by chance knew someone who lived on the Seine around here?” Garfield shoveled a croissant into his mouth.

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

Marinette was a lot of things.

To some she was the sweet bakers’ daughter, insanely witty and clever, granted a bit scatterbrained, but she was your trophy student by all means of the word; to others though, she was someone to be wary of. A classmate’s spew of lies crawling under their skins, itching to be taken into account. Every move watched meticulously, waiting with bated breath for a slip up, for anything to grasp on to.

In simpler terms, Marinette was over it. Over being unable to speak her truth; over being villainized, constantly put under a spotlight. There was already enough on her plate, one of its regulars accumulating to a steadily-rising designer. One of her biggest flexes, if she was being honest; because really, what fourteen year old could say they constructed glasses for the Jagged Stone? Surely not the average bunch.

Oh, and did she mention superheroine? Yeah, she’s a superheroine.

The whole gig was shoved at her face, three months shy of her thirteenth birthday; and by gig she meant a brief guide, a blindingly red polka-dotted suit, a questionable choice of weapon (seriously, a yo-yo?), and an ill-timed partner.

Nonetheless, she worked with what she got. It's kept her alive so far already, why complain now?

She rubbed her eyes with a stifled yawn, ‘’Radiant....Carefree....Dreamy…’’

Marinette slammed the snooze button at the sound of that god forsaken jingle. Christ, she needed to change her alarm. All it did was make her reminisce of her former crush on Adrien Agreste; top teen Parisian model, son of fashion mogul Gabriel Agreste, and current boyfriend of future Olympiad, Kagami Tsurugi. Alas, old habits die hard, and this one was going to crash and burn any time soon; Marinette was sure of it.

A groan sounded out as she flopped to the floor, skillfully ignoring the tinkling laughter coming from her bedside. Ah, who was she kidding? It’d take some sort of absolute miracle to get over him completely. She would end up forever lonely, pining over a taken man, indefinitely getting dropped from position as lead designer for Jagged, friendless, Akumatized, disowned by her parents-

“None of those things are true, and you know it!”

She snapped her gaze up to the floating embodiment of creation, Tikki. Had her friend really thought that, that look could get Marinette to take back her spiel? She looked like an angry kitten for crying out loud!

Her cheeks reddened as she got up and dusted herself off, “Did I say that out loud?”

Judging by the narrowing of the tiny god's eyes, she’d say yes, it was said out loud. Damn, she was not looking forward to a morning lecture about her declining self esteem and her tendency of speaking her mind. Before Tikki could get even a word in, the Just In Case™ alarm for bad mornings went off. She shot the kwami a rueful grin and scurried over to the counter.

“Radian-“ the clock was chucked out of the three story building. Marinette watched from her window as it plummeted to its demise, in a heap of cheap metal and wires. Lovely.

A red blur zoomed to the front of her face, making her go cross-eyed, ‘’Marinette!’’ Tikki frowned shakily, struggling not to smile at her antics.

She shrugged and skipped over to her closet, in search for acceptable clothes,

‘’What? It was getting annoying! And besides, it’s not like it was worth that mu-!’’ They both froze at the pounding of the trap door.

Ugh, couldn’t they wait to bother her later?

‘‘You better get out of there soon, young lady! I don’t want another call from your school added to the list,’‘ Marinette was going to absolutely combust. It sucked enough that barely any of her ‘‘friends’’ stuck around, but Tom and Sabine? Really? Believing some complete stranger over her? It must be the lack of familial relation that makes it sting a bit less. It must.

She groaned tiredly, ‘’Yes, Sabine.’’

Once the descending pattering of her footsteps quieted, Tikki raced over to latch onto Marinette’s cheek. Her bluebell orbs peered up at her, filled with sympathy for her holder. She shook her head at the silent offer to talk; there’s no time for a pity party.

The kwami sighed sadly, before pecking her cheek and floating over to rest on her shoulder. Marinette plastered on an encouraging smile, ‘‘C’mon Tikks’, help me pick out and outfit for today! You know how indecisive I can be,”

After some thinking, they’ve come to the mutual decision of something completely out of Marinette’s alley. Instead of her usual pink capris, floral shirt, blazer, flats, and pigtails; she sported a plaid pleated skirt, a tucked in Queen Bee graphic tee, black two-inch heart buckled platform Mary Janes, and spacebuns. Who knew her wardrobe from Clara Nightingale’s on-set music video would come to use?

She ogled her reflection with a satisfied smirk, yeah, she was hot.

‘’Holy shit, Tikki, if I was still into Adrien,’’ she whistled, ‘’he’d drop to the floor as soon as he saw this; and that’s coming from me!’’

The kwami shook her head good naturedly, ‘’I’m glad you think so. I really like confident Marinette!’’ she nudged her shoulder, ‘’Although, I hope you aren’t doing this for your classmates’ approval...’’

She directed her gaze at Tikki; an other person’s approval? Why would she do something for another person’s approv- Oh. She actually wasn’t that far off.

‘‘Pssh. No, I would never! This is all me baby! The awesome, cool, and Pinterest board version, I mean,’‘ Marinette gave her little friend finger-guns and grabbed her purse. Enough about her, they needed to get to school before she was late again.

‘‘Get in Tikks’, if we wait any longer I’ll be,’‘ she checked the time on her phone, ‘‘like five minutes late to homeroom!’‘

She flitted into the bag as Marinette settled it onto her side. With one last look-over, she was off.

To say she struggled down the stairs was a complete and utter understatement. She almost died, multiple times. Maybe the platform shoes were a bad idea, a very, very, very bad idea. Marinette clutched onto the railing with an inhumane grip that could rival Alya’s on her phone; and that was telling you something.

Once she made it passed the death trap, or rather simply a few steps, she grabbed an espresso and a handful of cookies; the former being for her, and the latter for Tikki. She gave a fleeting wave to Sabine and Tom, not that they gave any mind.

She pulled out her phone, 8:26, she could work with that. Her phone buzzed with a text notification.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ 𝖈𝖍𝖑𝖔𝖊 𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖇𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍 ♥ ɴᴏᴡ

where the fuck are you

Marinette snorted and slid the cookies into her purse. She unlocked the screen and tapped the message icon.

{𝟖:𝟐𝟕} .•°¤*(¯`★´¯)*¤° 🎀 𝓃𝑒𝓉𝓉𝒾𝑒 🎀 °¤*)¯´★`¯(*¤°•.

wouldnt you like to know weather boy

{𝟖:𝟐𝟪} (っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ 𝖈𝖍𝖑𝖔𝖊 𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖇𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍 ♥

wow ur so funny im literally laughing so hard rn 😐

{𝟖:𝟐8} .•°¤*(¯`★´¯)*¤° 🎀 𝓃𝑒𝓉𝓉𝒾𝑒 🎀 °¤*)¯´★`¯(*¤°•.

thank you, thank you, im here all night 🖤

Marinette looked both ways before crossing the intersection, Dupont just about a block away. She chugged her now-cold coffee and tossed it in the recycling bin, ‘’Score! And the crowd goes wil-!’’ the atmosphere suddenly stilted.

‘‘Dupain-Cheng,’‘ she swiveled around, and was met with the putrid swamp green slits shes grown to despise.

A snarl rolled off her tongue, ‘’Rossi.’’

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

omg guys so hi. im doing this. im actually doing the thing i said i would do here cuz im a bad bitch. 3k words i think. sorry for any mistakes i literally wrote this while watching pbs kids LMAOOOASODFWOEB @beautiful-disasters-sunshine idk if u still wanna be tagged when i do this kinda stuff but pm me if u dont <3

75 notes · View notes

stillness-in-green · 3 years

Text

Part 2 of the response to this ask:

Part 1 was about where I think Geten’s story is going, and if I think it’s likely that Dabi will kill him; it dealt mainly with how those characters are set up in canon. Part 2 is far more about the fandom, and the assumptions people make that lead them to theories like the one above--specifically, the assumption that the League was always planning on bailing on the PLF. Hit the jump below with me and I'll go over why I think the common arguments for that are misguided at best, and willfully misreading the text at worst.

WARNING: Contains some generalizations about parts of the fandom that I have mostly taken steps to avoid seeing on my dash, so some of my characterizations may be out of date. I’ve tried to desalinate this post as much as possible, but as an unapologetic fan of the MLA and of Spinner (who I do not bring up incidentally), this is a topic I feel particularly strongly about. Apologies, but I Have Seen Things.

DISCLAIMER: I like Geten better than Dabi. I don't think he's better developed; I don't think he's a better character--I just like him better. This is largely down to the fact that I find the MLA fascinating from a worldbuilding perspective and its members compelling personally, whereas I’m less interested in Dabi personally than I am the Todoroki Drama on the whole, and have been tired of Fanon Dabi for approximately 83 years. I’ll also be the first to admit that my take on Dabi is pretty mercenary--hardly the irredeemable psychopath the Hero Stans on Twitter see, but nothing close to Secretly Soft Big Brother Touya, either. If that’s not your bag, you may want to skip this one.

So, here's a bullet point list of the reasons I have personally seen on why the League was always planning to turn on the MLA:

Dabi and Toga mention "getting started early," and Shigaraki mentions a plan, suggesting that the League had a plan in place independent of the one they arranged as the PLF.

Shigaraki says he won't forgive the Liberation Army for messing with peoples' feelings, so he would never really mean it when he forges an alliance with them.

The MLA is quirk supremacist, like Endeavor, so Dabi would never work with them.

Dabi is just using Skeptic against Skeptic's will; it’s not a willing partnership.

Mr. Compress rejects the PLF moniker for Shigaraki, ergo Mr. Compress didn’t genuinely associate Shigaraki and the League with the PLF.

Toga hated Curious, so she wouldn't want to work with the MLA either.

Twice would never forgive them for what they did to Giran.

[Error: argument about Spinner's opinion on the PLF not found.]

So, let's go over those, shall we? Note that a lot of what I'm going to lay out below isn't conclusive. What I want to establish is simply that the canonical evidence isn't conclusive, certainly not as much so as the people who support this view espouse.

|| Dabi and Toga mention "getting started early," and Shigaraki mentions a plan, suggesting that the League had a plan in place independent of the one they arranged as the PLF.

In responses to my recent Overhaul post, I defended Viz’s official translation as an accurate rendering of the dialogue in question. In general, I feel like Caleb Cook is pretty reliable in his translations, if sometimes kind of stiff or dry in localization. However, there are times he makes assumptions about lines--as indeed a translator for a currently-running series will sometimes have to--and sometimes, those assumptions don’t pan out. This is one of those times.

Dabi's line, "Shall we get started early?" is based on an assumption Cook made about a line that doesn't have an actual subject. In the original dialogue--Hayame ni hajimaru ka--there is no “we,” not even in the form of some implicit collective in Dabi’s grammatical inflection, nor is there a question of "should." All Dabi’s doing is musing that the start (again, there’s no subject, and so no indication of the start of what, or the start as initiated by who) is happening early.

Toga's line communicates much the same, save that she does specify that the schedule/plan/arrangement is happening earlier than expected--which is totally true, since her line is in response to Dabi observing that Machia moving must mean Shigaraki's awake, and Shigaraki was supposed to be down for another month.

Shigaraki's line, like Dabi's, lacks a subject to describe what exactly is supposed to start as soon as Shigaraki wakes. He's saying something that would, in a more stilted way, be, "I wake up and then it's the start, right?"

None of these lines suggest that the characters are necessarily talking about any plan other than the one the PLF laid out. Yes, it looks somewhat damning that Shigaraki's first action (after getting himself a cape, anyway) is to have Machia bring him the League, but heck, maybe that was always the plan. Just because Shigaraki wants to rejoin his comrades doesn't mean the rest of the PLF didn't already have machinations that they were supposed to set into motion the moment Machia left. After all, the plan as Hawks understood it did involve simultaneous attacks on major cities--maybe the League was going to be spearheading one of those attacks. Further, Shigaraki knew something was wrong from the moment he regained consciousness, and we don’t know how that knowledge affected the call he made. Hell, maybe the original plan was for the League to be brought to meet him somewhere in a chartered limo; we don’t know.

It's telling that this idea that the League had a Secret Plan to screw over the MLA rarely seems to account for Mr. Compress and Spinner being confused over the suddenness of events. The response to questions about this seems to be that the "villain trio" knew about it, so the ignorance of the rest of the League can just be handwaved--the important members knew, and that's enough. This is ungenerous towards both Twice and Mr. Compress, but I have got particularly little time for Spinner, the narrator of MVA and guy who decided to devote his all to Shigaraki, being disrespected in this fashion. More on that later.

|| Shigaraki says he won't forgive the Liberation Army for messing with peoples' feelings, so he would never really mean it when he forges an alliance with them.

Shigaraki does say he won't forgive the MLA, but consider what he did to the MLA and its leader. He destroyed most of their stronghold, killed scores of them, is directly responsible for Re-Destro losing his legs, and saw that vaunted descendant of Destro about six inches shy of full forehead-on-the-ground dogeza. The League Shigaraki commands killed a great many more of them, including one of their inner circle. He commandeered the Liberation Army, its resources, and its grand cause. I think it’s safe to say he’s more than responded in kind!

I'm not saying Shigaraki feels for the MLA the same way he does about the League, far from it, but I do think he's practical enough after two hundred chapters of character development not to throw them away out of spite. In Chapter 246, he tells Ujiko explicitly, "When someone offers me something, I take it," and, "I'm done taking the heroes lightly. I'll use everything I've got to obliterate the dregs All Might left behind." From a purely practical standpoint, if he intends to throw everything he has at the heroes, he has no reason to throw the MLA under the bus, and 116,000 reasons to keep them around. I'm altogether sure that, so long as they stood to be useful to his plans, he would have kept them around.

|| The MLA is quirk supremacist, like Endeavor, so Dabi would never work with them. + || Dabi is just using Skeptic against Skeptic's will; it’s not a willing partnership.

I hadn’t seen the second point in the wild, but I suppose it must be how the “The League will betray the MLA” theorists are getting around Dabi and Skeptic’s clear collaboration and how that collaboration totally scuttles the first point, huh? Hilarious.

Anyway, setting aside the fact that Dabi showed up to the one planning session we were shown when even Geten didn’t, there’s evidence in the canon that Dabi was working with Skeptic since even before the raid. Consider that Dabi’s video was filmed at the villa (the wall paneling and the style of the couch both match) and ask yourself where the camera he used came from. Once the filming was complete, where was the video stored such that Skeptic could access it from his laptop? If Dabi’d had it on an SD card and Skeptic was seeing it for the first time, why didn’t Spinner, Compress and Toga watch it alongside him? Surely Skeptic would need to watch it through at least once to know when to splice in the footage of Jin’s death for maximum dramatic impact? On that note, by far the most telling piece of evidence is this: if Dabi wasn't already working with Skeptic, then why was he wearing one of Skeptic's body cameras during his confrontation with Hawks?

Further, Skeptic's protest when he’s pulled onto Machia isn't that he doesn’t want to be with the League; it’s that he doesn’t want to leave Re-Destro behind. Once he's resigned that it's going to happen, though, he's cocky about his talents and complimentary of Dabi's big reveal, even if he is exasperated about the League's antics. It's ambiguous, I admit, but given that Dabi's wearing his cameras, he had to have known Dabi had a reason for them--and given that he is both abrasive and mouthy, I can’t imagine he wouldn’t have demanded to know what that reason was.

Hell, Dabi even thanks Skeptic for his editing work, which is more direct positive approval than he's ever shown anyone in the League (give or take the high-five with Twice, which, genuine or not, he would have known he was doing on camera). That much-vaunted panel of Spinner telling Toga to come back to the League? Dabi's grinning, which in isolation you could read as a certain rueful affection, but with the full context of the chapter, it becomes apparent that Dabi is grinning at Skeptic's laptop, seconds after telling Skeptic to "hurry up." Skeptic is, at that moment, probably gearing up the video to project nationwide, and Dabi’s more focused on that than he is Toga’s crisis, even when Compress directly appeals to him for aid. He tells Compress he doesn’t care, the same way he told Hawks he doesn't give a damn about the League.

Let me be clear here: I'm inclined to take Dabi at his word. I think Dabi hangs around the League because, for all that he says one man's conviction can shake the world, he also knows his own limits, and the League offers safety in numbers and an avenue to pursue his revenge. Maybe he finds them acceptable enough company, maybe he even does like them a bit despite himself, but I think any affection he might have for them is entirely incidental to his views on their usefulness. In the same way, while he's willing to bail on the MLA when the heroes attack, I don't think it was his plan to do so, especially not given his apparent immediate regard for Skeptic, as seen in the deleted scene here. Sure, he dislikes Geten, but ultimately, Geten is a stupid kid too tied up in his care for Re-Destro--who's now worshipping the ground Shigaraki walks on--to really be getting in Dabi's way.

Maybe if the MLA really were as quirk supremacist as Geten makes them out to be, Dabi would be actively looking for a way to see ‘em burn, but as I’ve said countless times before, Geten is not a reliable narrator vis a vis the MLA's doctrine. Now, obviously I don't expect Dabi to give them an unearned benefit of the doubt,(1) not after what he heard Geten say, but if Dabi has been working with Skeptic, it doesn't take a genius to realize that while Anthropomorph is a perfectly good quirk, it is categorically not what primarily defines Skeptic’s "worth" in the MLA societal microcosm.

Nothing that Skeptic does reflects the way Geten talks about "elevating one's ability" or "sheer strength" in the way that HeroAca fandom tends to understand as referring to flashy and offensive quirks. And yet, Skeptic is a ranked advisor warranting an introductory panel with RD's inner circle and Geten is not. Perhaps, just perhaps, this might have led Dabi to reevaluating his initial assessment just slightly?

|| Mr. Compress rejects the PLF moniker for Shigaraki, ergo Mr. Compress didn’t genuinely associate Shigaraki and the League with the PLF.

So, this one's pretty wild, because, in the same chapter that had people crowing about Mr. Compress's dialogue, Mr. Compress's actions show the exact opposite of the conclusion this theory would demand. Specifically, if it was always the League's plan to ditch the MLA, Mr. Compress would have darted right past Skeptic, ignoring the man's cries for help. He doesn't--he picks Skeptic up on the way past and (at least in the volume corrections) deposits him safe with Dabi in Spinner's scarf. Of course, Skeptic still stands to be useful, but if one acknowledges that Skeptic's usefulness is reason enough not to abandon him, then what exactly is the argument for leaving 116,000 perfectly useful warm bodies behind?

But let's set aside Compress rescuing Skeptic and focus on the actual point, because that point in itself is still flawed. Mr. Compress's thoughts on the PLF in the specific talk bubble in question are somewhat ambiguous. It's another case of the Viz translation making a couple of assumptions that are just that--assumptions.

Compress's words in the Japanese are as follows:

Chōjō Kaihō Sensen.… Viran rengo no Shigaraki Tomura ga…

Viz then renders the line like so:

The Paranormal Liberation Front's… No, the League of Villain's Shigaraki…

Note that in the Japanese, the possessive no is only included once, to indicate Shigaraki's association with the League. Further, the original doesn't indicate any negation in Compress's thoughts. Yes, he could be rejecting the PLF association for Shigaraki, but he could as easily be narrowing his scope to Shigaraki as the figure he represents to the League, rather than the figure he represents to the PLF--not rejecting wholesale, but rather becoming more specific. Compress might also be thinking first of the PLF as a general organization, then narrowing down to Shigaraki specifically.

Rather than reading this line as an indication that Compress regards the PLF as temporary, I was heartened by the fact that Compress thought about the PLF at all! If the League really had been planning to discard them this entire time, then there's no reason for Compress to have ever taken the Front seriously enough to have thought about them in that moment of crisis. You can carry this back further, too. In Chapter 258, when Twice is asking Hawks for help, he says that Spinner and Compress have been in meetings for days. Coupled with Compress's first thought about the entity that will carry out Harima's desired reformation being the Liberation Front (or possibly "the Liberation Front's Shigaraki"), this indicates to me that Compress was taking it seriously, not just gorging himself on sushi on the MLA's dime.

Indeed, back in Ujiko's lab, when it was just Shigaraki talking about his backstory and his dreams of destruction, Compress looks the opposite of impressed; we know from his narration in 294 that he liked the League because they didn't place any importance on one another’s pasts. Yet, at some point, his view shifted to believing that fulfilling his ancestor's ambition, his bloodline’s duty, really might be back on the table. We as readers don't quite know when that shift happened, but given, again, his initial mental invocation of the PLF, I think we can assume that it's tied to that alliance, those resources. And sure, when the moment of crisis happens and he's really defining who and what Shigaraki is to him, and where his values and priorities lie, it's with the League and Shigaraki as the leader of the League. But that doesn't mean he never had his hopes for the PLF at all, or was partaking in plans to ditch them.

Also too, this is a man who was lamenting the loss of their partnership with Overhaul, a man who personally maimed him, on top of killing a comrade. You're telling me the guy who shrugged off his animosity towards Overhaul would willingly allow the League to plot sabotage against even wealthier collaborators against whom he has even less reason to hold a grudge? Come on, guys.

|| Toga hated Curious, so she wouldn't want to work with the MLA either.

This one's easy: Toga pretty explicitly hated Curious, but she's even more explicit that she likes the MLA because she thinks the world they want to create is wonderful. She says this verbatim at the end of 225, after Curious has spent the entire chapter hounding her with explosions and intrusive questions. What turns her animosity on Curious is not some reveal that the MLA's world would be terrible after all, but Curious calling Toga's "normal" miserable and tragic. Essentially, she doesn't object to the world the MLA wants to bring about; she objects to being turned into a martyr for that world, especially when that martyrdom requires that the things that make Toga happy be characterized as horrific misfortunes.

Toga doesn't like Curious; she kills Curious. And then she comes into a position of leadership, and we don't know a lot about how that position takes her, but she seems delighted to be walking out onto the stage to be announced as such, and she makes active contributions to the discussion of the PLF's plans in Chapter 245. We are, again, given no indication that her lethal response to Curious means that she's planning to ditch the MLA on the whole.

Incidentally, Curious asserts what she does about Toga only in the context of the world as it stands. The world's rejection of Toga's normal, and the extremes that rejection drove Toga to, are what Curious considers tragic and miserable, not Toga's fascination with blood in and of itself. She clearly believes that, in the world the MLA envisions, Toga's life would not be so miserable because she would never have been oppressed to the degree that she snapped. And frankly, Curious isn't wrong. The only reason she is a villain in that scene is that she's willing to murder Toga to project that tragedy to the world. If she'd been willing to sit down and have a civil interview with Toga to print it in a relevant magazine, she would have been fine.

|| Twice would never forgive them for what they did to Giran.

You know, this is a totally fair point. It is, however, somewhat complicated by the fact that Giran himself never left the PLF. Now, there’s almost certainly something to be said about Giran’s whole information broker shtick being terminally compromised by his capture, his maiming, his client list being hacked, etc. He had a bunch of identifying items strewn all over the country that were covered in the national news, items that people who associated with him closely certainly would have recognized. Maybe he’s laying low for a while?

I don’t know why Giran was still around by the time of the raid. I can theorize about his pragmatism or what have you, but the canon really doesn’t give us anything to go on. Still, if he really hated the MLA all that much, as he would be totally justified in doing, it’s pretty bizarre that Horikoshi showed him twice in PLF crowd scenes post-Deika looking nothing worse than kind of confused and uneasy. Heck, you’d think he would at least have merited a better seat in the crowd for the big merger announcement.

Giran aside, the fact that Twice never does hit it off with anyone in his regiment is, I think, telling. If there’s anyone in the League that intentionally kept himself at a distance from the MLA because of hard feelings, it’s likely Twice. After all, if he had befriended anyone, he presumably wouldn’t have needed to go to Hawks for tutoring almost an entire month after Deika. That said, the fact that Twice does go running to Hawks for tutoring shows that he’s at least doing his best to act in accordance with what he thinks Shigaraki and the rest want. That doesn’t preclude the League having a secret plan that he’s either in on and playing along with, or hasn’t been told about because he might not be able to stop himself from vocalizing about it. Still, while absence of evidence is not evidence of absence, obviously absence of evidence is not evidence of presence. So, lacking any sign that the rest of the League is planning treachery, I’m not inclined to assume Twice’s lack of forgiveness is indicative of anything other than his own feelings.

|| [Error: argument about Spinner's opinion on the PLF not found.]

:: INCOMING SALT WARNING :: INCOMING SALT WARNING ::

This is the one that really gets to me. I have never seen an argument that the League is planning to betray the PLF that convincingly explains the fact that Spinner, to all available evidence, threw himself wholeheartedly into trying to make the PLF succeed. To be more precise, I have seen one explanation, and that explanation is that the plan to ditch the MLA was a secret that only Shigaraki, Dabi and sometimes Toga knew about, and to reiterate, that is bullshit.

In my experience, this is an explanation proposed by people who care about Spinner only insofar as he can be a Soft Gaymer Boyfriend or score them rhetorical points, but have little to no interest in his ongoing--and, indeed, increasing--importance to the League generally and Shigaraki’s arc specifically. The dude who talked about how Twice’s home was the League, who got through to Toga while still respecting her choice when no one else could, the guy who recognized the hollowness within Shigaraki but also bonded with him over video games, the man who Mr. Compress said was Shigaraki’s most devoted follower(2)--this man did not do all of that for people in this fandom to say, “Oh, well, the others probably just kept it a secret from him because they thought he’d be bad at lying.”

Really? “Bad at lying?” And that’s an adequate justification, is it, for Shigaraki letting Spinner toil for months under false pretenses? For lying to the man who adores him the most? Of course it isn’t, but the people who theorize this don’t really care about Spinner’s adoration for Shigaraki, or the fact that Shigaraki rewarding Spinner’s feelings by allowing him to dedicate himself unstintingly to something Shigaraki was planning to discard from the beginning would be a blatant abuse of Spinner’s trust.

I have never seen anyone try to argue that Spinner was in on a plan to betray the MLA all along. That’s because it’s patently obvious that Spinner--forthright, direct Spinner, who named the merged organization with Re-Destro, spends all his time in meetings, has a direct exchange with Re-Destro about the state of their plans, and is probably the reason RD started wearing polka dots--went all-in on the PLF. But for the people who propose the “the League was always going to bail” theory, Spinner and his labors are an afterthought.

Spinner is not an afterthought. Where Mr. Compress has been captured, Toga could hypothetically be peeled away from the League via Uraraka, and Dabi almost certainly will be peeled away via the Todoroki plot, Spinner’s driving motivation at this point is Shigaraki himself. He connected to Shigaraki’s nihilism, his hatred, but also his humanity--the humanity in Shigaraki Tomura, not in Shimura Tenko. His empathy didn’t spring from contrived psychic glimpses of crying 5-year-olds, but from long months of observation, doubt, and gradually deepening wonder. He’s the only person currently with Shigaraki that I can see caring enough about Shigaraki’s welfare that he might sacrifice his own goals and desires to help Deku save him.

Spinner is not an afterthought, and I refuse to build or entertain theories that treat him that way. So as to his opinions on the MLA? Despite having his own reasons to be leery of them based on how shabbily Trumpet treated him, he was obviously trying to make the Paranormal Liberation Front succeed, which means he must have believed that Shigaraki wanted it to succeed. Therefore, unless you’re prepared to assert that Shigaraki (and everyone else who was in on it!) was cruel enough to lie to Spinner about something he was devoting so much time and energy to, the inescapable conclusion is that Shigaraki also wanted the Front to succeed.

(Note: After letting a friend pre-read this, I have been informed that there is, in fact, one explanation offered for Spinner knowing the League was going to abandon the PLF but working his ass off on the venture anyway, and that explanation is, “Something something wants to prove himself because low self-esteem.” This is so ridiculous I can’t even bring myself to edit this post accordingly. Low self-esteem! Because nothing would alleviate Spinner's low self-esteem like toiling for months over something that holds no worth to the people he actually cares about, right? Right?? Bah. Humbug!)

And but so, to wrap all that up: I fundamentally disagree that the League viewed the Paranormal Liberation Front as a temporary arrangement, at least to the extent that they were actively planning to betray their newfound--new won--allies. The fact that I don't think the League intended to discard the MLA out of hand does, thus, influence my opinion that, whatever Geten's fate will be, I'm pretty sure it's not going to be, "He gets murdered in a way that resembles nothing so much as a sick revenge fantasy dozens of chapters after the last point when such a death would have been remotely tonally appropriate."

Thanks for the ask, anon! Sorry about-- *waves at all of this*

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

(1) Not that Mr. “Burns Random Delinquents Alive For Not Measuring Up To His Standards For Villainy” has any moral standing to criticize others for how they determine the value of peoples’ lives, mind.

(2) Other translations for the verb in Mr. Compress’s Japanese line of, “You are the one who ____s Shigaraki the most,” include yearn for, long for, pine for, miss, love dearly, adore, idolize, and revere. “Most devoted follower” is accurate enough, but considerably less homo than some of the things we could have gotten there.

#bnha #stillness answers #paranormal liberation front #league of villains #stillness has salt #spinner defense squad

16 notes · View notes