#she didn't know her Hero could save her; but she trusted him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

twilightkitkat · 3 months ago

Text

Thinking about how Logan is more open about his emotions than Wade despite what people perceive, and how Wade slowly learns to open up and confront his own emotions because of Logan.

Prompted by this amazing thread. Shoutout to @ramblingautisticman and @desperatelyneedcoffee for inspiring me to write this.

---

Most people expect Logan to be the more closed-off one. To hide his emotions behind a mask and keep them to himself.

But that's Wade's role.

Logan is honest about his emotions—when he's angry, he'll growl and thrash and let people know. When he's happy, he'll bark out a laugh and grin and let his eyes wrinkle at the edges. When he's sad, he'll cry and scream and drown himself in alcohol.

He may not be phased by smaller things, but he's honest about his feelings. (Something Wade could never do.)

Wade, on the other hand, isn't. He exaggerates trivial feelings, obvious situational ones—he'll cower in fear at a "scary enemy or pretend to be pissed over a minor inconvenience. He makes his outward, shallow emotions so loud that it turns everyone's attention away from what he's feeling inside.

(Because if people know how he feels inside, they'll see him and hate him. It's easier to be hated when you can chalk it up to "understandable" reasons, to being annoying or loud or inappropriate. It isn't easy when they hate you. When they look at you, bare and vulnerable and open, and hate who you are at your core.)

Wade has spent his entire life hiding his emotions. Even from himself.

He shoves them so deep down that they become a slightly bitter taste in the back of his throat until it all becomes too much and he violently throws them up.

Wade is like a glass bottle: he can steadily hold all his emotions inside, pretending to be OK, until the glass shatters and explodes and the shards dig everywhere and he's left to pick up the pieces.

But Logan isn't like that. He lets himself feel. He lets others see how he feels.

Even from the first moment they met, he let Wade know how he felt. How he fucked everything up. How he wasn't the hero he was looking for. How he was battling with so much grief and rage that he'd reached a point of complete apathy.

(It made Wade envious. To be able to just say it and move on.)

Logan was the first person Wade met to be so blatantly honest. To wear his emotions on his sleeve and act on them and still be strong and keep fighting.

(...Could he still be considered strong, if he did the same?)

When Wade was vulnerable, it felt like he was choking—the words tumbling out without his permission and leaving a mess behind. Even with the people he loved, he couldn't ever bring himself to fully trust them even if he knew he should. Even if he wanted to. (Even if he tried to.)

(He still remembers sitting across the kitchen table from Vanessa. She held his hand tightly, as if she was afraid he would slip away. Was slipping away. She was urging him to let her in. To tell her why he hadn't been himself. To open up so they could share the burden.

But he just... couldn't. How do you tell someone who loves you, who you turned back time to save that nothing was helping? That no matter how hard he tried to focus on Vanessa and just live a "normal" life that it all felt wrong? That he felt an itch under his skin to do more more more and nothing was "more" enough.

That he felt like he was just wearing his skin. Like it wasn't his, not since Francis twisted him into a monster he didn't want to become. That he still remembered her look of surprise and the reluctant way she cradled his face when she first saw it.

It wasn't her fault. He knew that. It was an adjustment.

...But why didn't anyone understand? The gnawing loneliness, the self-hatred, the feeling of everything being nothing and too much all at once.

He hated himself.)

But Logan let his emotions course through his veins like second nature. Wade watched as emotions twisted across his face like it was a form of art.

And, for the first time, he felt comfortable opening up. He let the words spill from his mouth, except instead of feeling the trail of acid burning through his throat it felt like relief. He finally met someone who understood him, who had gone through the same suffering. He saw his loneliness reflected in Logan's eyes and finally, finally, felt he could reach out without dragging someone down. (They were both already at rock bottom, anyway. The only place to go from here was up.)

And so he told Logan about Vanessa. About the family he wanted to save. About how, yes, he vaguely cared about the world, but none of this was to save the world. (It was for just nine people.)

And Logan... didn't judge him. He saw understanding—a tired, but real kind—reflected in his eyes. He didn't make fun of him for his selfish motivations. Didn't snarl in disgust that he could never be a hero because of them. (He saw him and didn't recoil.)

And there, sitting across the table from each other in that shitty building they'd escaped to, Wade finally felt seen. Understood. (Ironic, isn't it? To have to go to the void to open up about the void inside of himself. Wade would write a poem about it if he knew how to.)

He felt that same kinship as they continued their journey. Even through the insults, the exasperation, the annoyance, Wade could tell none of it was serious. Because Logan never really told him to fuck off. To stop.

If Logan didn't like him being touchy, he'd shove him off. (He didn't.) If Logan didn't like him asking questions and rambling about himself, he'd actually try to get him to shut up instead of just grumbling. (He didn't.) If Logan really didn't want to be here, he'd leave. (He didn't.)

Logan's visceral type of emotional honesty allowed Wade to let himself be vulnerable. Because if Logan hated him, he wouldn't be here. If Logan didn't want to hear it, he wouldn't tilt his head and listen and ask questions.

(It made Wade feel safe to express himself for the first time since he'd been strapped to that shitty operation table and torn apart until all that remained was a body not quite his own.)

Things were going good.

They were.

(Wade desperately hoped they'd stay that way.)

But then Logan pulled over the car, real and raw fury in his eyes. He yelled at Wade, his voice trembling with the intensity of it.

He picked apart everything Wade had told him. Threw it back in his face.

And oh. Oh.

Logan was honest. He was true to himself and his emotions.

And so, Wade thought quietly as the tired continued, he really meant it. It felt worse than when Logan had stabbed him.

(It felt like he was back on that operating table, small and weak and pathetic but still trying to keep smiling. To keep cracking jokes and being annoyed. Because, if he didn't, he'd break. If he didn't keep the shards of his personality clutched so tightly to his chest that they dug into his hands, nothing would be left of him.)

Logan dissected him. Using everything Wade told him. (Using the ammunition he'd provided.)

(Was Logan really looking at him with understanding, back then? Or was it disgust? The images blurred together in Wade's mind, distorting his memory.)

Told him how he was worthless. That the Avengers and X-men were right to reject him. (Ouch.) That it was his fault he couldn't salvage his relationship with Vanessa. (He'd tried. He'd tried so hard.)

That Logan saw him for what he was: a pathetic, attention-seeking parasite who clung to others instead of facing his own problems.

It really was God's greatest joke that he couldn't die.

Wade spiraled.

(Was he wrong this whole time? Did Logan really, truly hate him? He had to, if he's looking at Wade like that.)

If even Logan (the only person who could begin to understand his suffering) couldn't accept him, who could?

He felt like the ground was crumbling underneath him and he was falling and floating at the same time. He felt like he was an observer, looking in on the outside, even as his emotions crashed over him like a tsunami.

But he couldn't let himself break down. Wouldn't let himself be vulnerable. Not here. Not now.

So, he slid the mask back on and responded in the only way he knew how to.

"I'm going to fight you now."

(Even when they'd collapsed, bloody and weak and exhausted, the words kept ringing in his head. They'd let out their physical frustrations, maybe, but the words still clung to him like a blanket. There was still a sinking feeling in his gut. Dread twisting his stomach at the thought of being open.)

(The feeling never really went away.)

---

They started living together, in the aftermath.

Wade had called after Logan as he was about to leave and awkwardly asked him if he'd like to come home with him. Just long enough to find a place to stay, or even just for dinner.

(Logan couldn't refuse. Not with the sense of wrongness filling him as the distance between him and Wade grew with each step. When he heard Wade's voice, it felt like hope. It felt like coming home.)

One night turned into two, turned into a week, turned into a month until Logan had his own side of the dresser and nobody bothered to ask if he was leaving. (Thinking of leaving made Logan vaguely nauseous, now. It felt like ripping away the foundation of the home he'd painstakingly started to build here.)

Logan still had baggage. Still had days where all he wanted to do was grab a beer and stare blankly at the wall, thinking of all he'd done and all he'd lost.

But it was easier. Wade would walk into the living room, plop down next to him, and begin talking his ear off about whatever happened that day. He'd sling an arm around his shoulder, flip on the TV, and keep talking.

(Logan would lean against him, slightly. Would focus on Wade until his warmth and touch and voice drowned out his thoughts.)

(It worked better than alcohol ever had.)

Logan tried to let Wade know that he cared about him. That he appreciated it. Appreciated him.

(That Wade's presence was what made everything worth it. Made him finally feel like he was able to tread water without drowning.)

He'd cook Wade meals. (And pay attention to what he liked and disliked, making sure to cook things he knew Wade would comfortably eat.) He'd lean into his touch. Listen when he talked. Answer any questions he asked.

And so, when Logan came out from the shower one night and saw Wade curled up on the couch, staring blankly at the black screen of the TV, he approached him.

Wade had a vacant, empty look in his eyes. The kind that Logan recognized, but hadn't seen on him before.

It made him worried. He'd never seen Wade like this. (It was unsettling. To see Wade, who was so vibrant and expressive, look so bleak.)

"Is something bothering you, bub?" he asked, settling down next to Wade on the couch.

Wade finally seemed to register his presence, eyes flicking over to where he sat.

"Oh, peanut! I was wondering when you'd get out of the shower. Was it nice and steamy? I'd love to join you next time," Wade wriggled his eyebrows (or what was left of them) suggestively.

It was like a switch had flipped. Wade went from blank, like a doll with its strings cut, to animated and excited in a second. His eyes were sparkling again and he grinned at Logan like nothing was wrong.

(It was... uncomfortable. Did Wade not trust him? Was Wade hiding something from him?)

Logan wanted to question him, but Wade kept chattering and he could never really get a word in edgewise. (A part of him wondered if it was intentional.)

Maybe he was seeing things. Maybe Wade was just having a bad day. Logan tried to rationalize it, even as a pit formed in his stomach. A feeling of deep wrongness.

Except it kept happening.

Wade would get that same, desolate look in his eyes (always when he was alone, away from everyone) and Logan would walk in on him. Logan would try to see if something was wrong, but Wade would interject before he could.

(Logan knew his expression was concerned. Knew Wade could tell he was worried, that he cared about him. So why didn't Wade let him in?)

(Wade always listened, patiently, when Logan talked about his problems. It was one of the few times he'd go quiet, only occasionally asking questions and making extra commentary. He'd look at him with a grim understanding. Not pity, not sympathy, but empathy. Free of judgment. It was the first time Logan felt like his emotions were actually being received by someone, cradled and held and protected so that they didn't burn him out.)

Until, finally, one day, Logan snapped.

"What the fuck is up with you?" he snarled, and that didn't come out the way he intended but he was so frustrated by Wade refusing to just let him in.

"What do you mean, Wolvie? I'm—"

"Shut up. You're not fine. I've been alive for two hundred fucking years, I know by now when someone's lying, Wade," Logan interrupted before he could continue his usual antics.

"Look, I'm just having a bad day, alright? You know how it is. I'll be up and running after I take a nap, don't worry about little old me!" Wade's voice took on a faux-cheerful tone.

"This isn't just a bad day, bub. It's been happening a lot. You get this look in your eye, like you're not really there, and just stare at the wall." Logan stared at Wade with concern evident on his face. "It's worrying."

Wade snorts. "You don't have to worry about me of all people."

Logan furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you mean? 'You of all people?' Of course, I'd be worried about you, dumbass. I care about you and if you're hurting, I want to know why."

And Logan was so painfully honest. It was so clear in his eyes, in his expression, in his body language that he cared about Wade. Deeply.

It made Wade snap.

"Just shut up! Stop fucking talking. I don't want to hear it." Wade wished he had hair right now so he could fucking tear it out. He'd take any kind of physical pain just to distract himself from Logan, worried and open and trying to pry him open.

"Wade, what are you—you know you can tell him about anything, right?" Logan tried to regulate his breathing, to keep his tone calm. To not show the panic he was feeling. (It was obvious anyway.)

"What, so you can throw that back at me, too?"

What? What was Wade—

"So you can tell me I'm a fucking joke? That every superhero team was right to turn me down? That I couldn't even manage to keep a relationship with a stripper?"

Oh. Oh fuck. That was—

"That I should just fucking kill myself, but of course, it's God's best joke that I can't die, so now my pathetic existence is on you?"

He couldn't possibly think Logan meant that, right? Couldn't have been thinking about that this whole time—

"I don't want to burden your royal highness with my stupid problems," Wade practically snarled, "so stay the fuck out of it."

He slammed the door and left.

And Logan was left alone.

Logan wanted to run after him, to grab him and tell him that he didn't mean it. He was pissed off and spewing whatever came to his mind in the moment to hurt Wade. (And he'd achieved that goal, hadn't he?) He felt betrayed and responded in the only way he knew—by lashing out. (But that wasn't an excuse, not really. Not to take everything Wade had trusted him with and twist it. To betray his trust in such a personal, visceral way.)

(Logan knew that Wade meant well. That he was just scrambling to save his world and thought of the only solution that would get Logan to help. That when he made an "educated wish" he'd still try to see it out, had still asked the TVA after everything. But he was so fucking angry and so fucking tired and just wanted any excuse to lay down and die.)

Did Logan really have the right to, though?

Wade had listened to him. Helped him. Even after what Logan had said and done, he'd still cared. (And wasn't that a sobering thought. That this whole time, Wade thought that was Logan's opinion of him. That he still cared about Logan despite having his voice ringing in his ears, tormenting him.)

(It made Logan angry to think that Wade was used to it. To setting aside how people treated him and not expecting anything in return for his kindness. To loving and giving without receiving. It made him want to murder the people who set the bar so low. It made him want to rip out his own tongue.)

(It made him realize, yet again, that Wade was a better man than he'd ever be.)

...And Logan had fucked up. Immensely.

Had given Wade hope that he could finally open up to someone who came from a similar background and understood his suffering. All to tear it away in one glorious, horrible, mistake.

Logan had no right to fix things. To ask for forgiveness. (From Wade. From anyone.)

But what was the alternative? Letting Wade think he hated him? Leaving?

Logan would rather die than go back to living completely isolated from the world. He couldn't go back to waking up every day and drowning his sorrows with alcohol. Letting memories flash behind his eyes as he replayed everything he fucked up and obsessed over what he could've done differently.

(Because, without Wade, he would still be there. At rock bottom. Without a place to belong or any reason to get up in the morning. A samurai without a master. A drifter without purpose. A stray without a home.)

The thought of leaving behind the only thing he cared about anymore made him panic. He felt nauseous, like he wanted to throw up yesterday's dinner and his own heart alongside it.

He knew it was selfish and pathetic, but he couldn't let go. Couldn't handle losing the only thing that made living worth it, after everything.

(Of course, when he finally found someone who was like him, who felt the same loneliness, who couldn't die, he had to go and fuck up. What is Logan good for if not ruining anything good in his life?)

Logan knew he was selfish. And pathetic. And stupid.

(He felt his mouth move around the words. Spit venom at Wade, who was completely, utterly silent. He heard them, vaguely, but they didn't register. He was running on pure rage and adrenaline.)

(Why did he take until now to notice?)

He knew that.

But he didn't think it was this bad. That he'd end up ruining the only good thing to come out of his miserable existence.

He thought, at least, that even if he'd fucked up everything else, he could be good with Wade. Could be good for Wade. It was the one thing he prided himself on.

And now look at him.

Instead of Wade, it's Logan who was God's best joke.

Fuck, he wanted a beer.

#deadclaws #deadpool 3 #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool movie #poolverine #kitkat #logan howlett #wade wilson #wade x logan #wade/logan #poolverine angst #LMAOOOO I HOPE YALL ENJOY #MAYBE ILL BE NICE AND MAKE A SEQUEL WHERE THEY TALK IT OUT #RIP POOLVERINE 2024 YOU WILL BE MISSED

371 notes · View notes

metranart · 3 months ago

Text

"She's the fuckin' blood running through my veins, the air filling my lungs-" Hawks admitted unashamedly, giving one last long lick to Dabi's twitching cock before standing on his feet, proudly. "She's irreplaceable to me and I came here to fuck HER…. Not the other way around…."

ft. Hawks centered, Hawks x reader, Heavy! Dabi x Hawks, Slight! Bakugo x reader, Slight! Dabi x reader, sexual content

Hawks x UA Student! Reader (Part 15)

Warning tag: obsessed! Hawks, possessive! Hawks, naive! student reader, violation of trust, dubious consent, mating cycles, rut response, obsessive behavior, uncontrollable thirst for reader, manipulation, forced, thigh riding, hormonal minds out of control, sexual content, first time, cock riding, teenage fuck, Dabi's toxically interested in you, Bakugo bestie yet secretly inlove wit you, love confessions, cock-drunk, Hawks trying to be good but failing miserably, gaslighting, HEAVY plot, lots of smut.

Yesterday's incident

A few days after the Nomu attack, everyone began to prepare for the sport’s festival, and between that, the classes and training, you felt more exhausted every day. Physically and mentally exhausted, so vulnerable and confused, unable to swallow the bitter pill of what had happened, it was a mix of emotions too complicated to deal with.

And the boy with the crimson stare who was constantly watching you without your knowledge, noticed it too.

"(Y/N), you didn't even try to dodge my last attack," Bakugo's body plopped down next to yours, unconcerned with how close he was, a viciously rough push bumping your shoulder to get your scarce attention. "Earth to (Y/N)."

You grinned tiredly, and returned the push as hard as you could, not even moving him.

"Is that the best you can do?" Bakugo teased with a growl, "I thought you called yourself a hero." He was as friendly as he could be, even so, witnessed your features darken.

The champagne-haired man clenched his jaw, dammit! His body tensed next to yours and a trace of guilt forced your mouth to open, but you were silenced from whatever you were going to say by Bakugo's soft fingers suddenly pressing against your lips.

"Let me start," he asked, and you waited, his thumb caressing your bottom lip with a tenderness almost alien for someone like him and a long sigh, followed. "I know what it feels like to feel vulnerable and incompetent-"

"Jeez, thanks man-"

"Zip it, I’m not done," his fingers squeezed your lobe as he usually did when he wanted to be serious with you, you had a secret language since pups, so, immediately fell silent. "What I mean is, I've been attacked and unable to defend myself twice already," your breath caught in your lungs, it was true. The first time he was saved by All Might and the second time by you and your classmates, "...I know how you feel after the Nomu's attack," his hand slid like a snake that coiled between your fingers, making your heart rant pleasantly, not scared and confused like some other Hero did, "...I know how you feel, that powerlessness that makes you rage inside and leaves you exhausted," every word was hitting home, only it wasn't the Nomu you resented, "you have to let it out somehow, shortie...” you loved his nickname for you, a simple mock of how massive he was compare to you, “or you're going to go crazy," he smirked gloomy, "trust me, I know. It's a nasty thing."

"What does ‘King Explosion Murder’ suggest to letting it out?" Your attempt to tease him worked.

Bakugo chuckled low before set to think, for a moment, "I train non-stop, but I know your quirk isn't the fighting type-"

"For me, training non-stop would be making out with every living boy I can get my hands on," you shared bitterly amused, your brow furrowing at your few options.

"Or-" his fingers played around yours and something in the air thickened, "…... just kiss me."

You couldn't hide the growing blush on your cheeks quickly enough, one very similar to what your best friend sported. Bakugo cleared his throat. "We've been intimate before, we've kissed,"

"Only when drunk-"

Bakugo shrugged. "You gave me head once after training." He reminded you without the slightest care at been surrounded by your classmates.

"Keep it down, Kat. That was more than three months ago-"

"-I returned the favor almost immediately." He licked his lips, knowing you were watching, and you looked away so fast, your neck cracked.

"Bakugo, cut it out, someone is going to hear." You muttered low.

The explosion boy just shrugged again, uncaringly, highly amused by all the range of emotions he could muster out of you by mere teasing. He just hated when you were gloomy.

"Let them know that I ate you-"

Your hand slapped at his mouth to silence him. "You have no filter, silly boy." You scolded him goodheartedly and felt him smile under your palm. His tongue coming out to lick you, just for the fun of the fireworks he knew he’d unleash inside you. Your skin bristled and you released him as if his wet tongue, burned you.

"If you want, we can," he offered again, watching closely how you cleaned your palm on your uniform sweatpants. Cheeks showing that he was embarrassed but his eyes showing the contrary, shining with implacable determination. "Just say the word, and I'll be your boy toy."

It was your time to giggle, openly laughing at the term; it was the last term you would expect to come out of his brash mouth.

You stayed silent, and for the first time since he started talking, he felt nervous. Were you going to reject him? Would he be able to handle it? ...was there anyone else? Bakugo refused to find out.

"It's for training purposes, (Y/N)," he added, sensing your refusal, pushing for his secret agenda. He just needed time alone with you, not as friends, so that you could see him in another more favorable and less innocent light, "Don’t duel too much about the implications, you have to improve your Quirk control. Who better than me as a test subject?"

Your lips pursed.

"I'm discreet," you raised an accusing eyebrow, "when I want to be."

"We've known each other for a long time," he continued to push as discreetly as his desperation to have you would allow, "not to mention that I have excellent tongue play, you are fervent proof of that." He showed off, sticking out his long, fat tongue and moving it up and down, imitating his latest exploits on your more intimate parts.

You buried your elbow in his ribs this time, hard and he chuckled.

"I know, what you fear but it won’t happen,” sometimes you forget that he could read your mind, “our friendship is indomitable," he stated suddenly, proud of his fancy use of pompous vocabulary.

“Indomitable, huh?... Pride and Prejudice?” Bakugo sneered a snicker. You, being the only other creature alive who knew his embarrassing and well-hidden, weakness, for period novels.

“Wuthering Heights. You, illiterate monkey.” Your giggle tasted wonderful to him and seeing his opening, took advantage of the fact that Deku had just broken a training machine, and everyone was distracted by it.

"Let’s give it a try."

“And, if doesn’t work?”

Without warning, Bakugo yanked you by the collar of your uniform, dragging your whole body to his without even breaking a sweat, to whisper against your lips. “Then, we give it another try.”

His minty lips smashed yours, and your breath caught in your breast while being crushed against the strong pecs of your best friend, his massive frame devouring your petite one. His hand with a mind of its own circled your lower back, sliding around your waist to end up sitting you on his lap, where his two hands gave itself the task of manipulate your head at will, bending you a little to submerge his tongue better, now a little to the other side to suck and nibble at your lips, he wanted to hear you moan, he wanted you to do it for him... he wanted-

A crack was heard, viciously loud as a gym window exploded like a grenade.

Bakugo abandoned the sweet and addictive taste of your lips to cover you with his body and protect you from the rain of sharp glass. Good luck to everyone, it was just the impact of the noise since the rain of shrapnel didn't hurt anyone. Not even you, who were the closest.

"Are you guys, okay?" Deku appeared next to you in seconds, searching with his eyes for injuries.

"We're fine, nerd." Bakugo replied, gruffly. Damn timing! when everything was going so well. Izuku offered you his hand to pull you up and Bakugo could only growl at how frustrated he felt, he was seeing red.

"What the hell was that?!"

The kind green-haired boy shook off the remains of glass he could find off of you, and you quickly found yourselves surrounded by all of your worried classmates.

Professor Aizawa immediately sent everyone to the classroom…. and Hawks couldn’t feel more pleased.

The ever-watching, winged Hero’s aim as perfect as ever. He even managed to break the shield of the UA Academy from the outside, which was a huge red alert but for now, it served a purpose. The blonde’s lips pull into a nasty snarl, if anyone saw him at that moment, they would swear that he was a villain and not the number two hero of the country.

He had felt sorely tempted to barge in and pummel down that Bakugo with his own fists until he was nothing more than a disgusting, bloody pulp of meddling asshole.... but he had promised you a month, and a month he would give you.

“Enjoy your month, baby bird.” He phrased in repressed wrath. “Things are going to change big time, after.”

Dabi couldn't stop laughing and cackling at Hawks, and how offended he looked as he almost ripped off his own Hero costume, his mouth ranting about some boy - apparently a friend of yours - who had the audacity to kiss you... Dabi loved the hypocrisy that his oldest acquaintance could show so carelessly. Hadn't he, himself raped you not less than a week ago without the slightest cordiality or permission? He still treasured that naughty set of photos. This bird was undoubtedly a born narcissist and a real, drama queen.

“Calm the fuck down, birdie.” Dabi suggested, airily, lazily passing his shirt over his head, “What did you expect? The girl hates you-”

“Nah-ha!” Hawks complained, shaking his head brazenly, his hand yanking sharply on the arsonist's belt to get him naked quicker, desperation clear in every pull. “My mate doesn’t hate me,” he stated in pent-up frustration, “…she’s just young—”

“—Too young if you ask me.”

Dabi let himself be bossed around, his belt slipping like a whip from his pants, his boxers pooled around his ankles next, the blonde already on his knees in front of him.

“I didn’t.” Keigo replied, tasting the shin of sweet from Dabi’s hardened cock. Wet tongue licking a fat stripe from his balls, up through the glorious shaft to then envelop the mushroom head in between his lips, kissing and lightly nipping the sensitive tip with noisy, lewd sounds.

“Fuck-birdie!” Dabi growled low in his throat, jauntily. The smallest of smirks twisting his scarred lips, his hands burying in the golden locks of his occasional lover, “Ho—fuck, like that.”

Takami Keigo smirked against the swollen piece of pierced, palpitating meat on his lips, eyes shut tight while he repeated the motion over and over again, teasing and enticing his receptor to the point of almost a sexual assault.

“Sit on it.” came that dark, gritted baritone through ragged breaths, losing all sense of composure and frankly loving it, shoving Hawks handsome face against his pubic hair forcing him to swallow him whole in one gulp.

Keigo didn't even resist, the tip of Dabi's cock bottoming down to the back of his tight throat as if it were putting on a glove.

No gag reflex, no struggling from the doting Hero who didn't even get teary-eyed, he was a true professional. After doing it more than he liked to admit, his throat, no doubt, had already been well trained to withstand the brutal thrusts of his oldest, inclement friend.

"Sit on it?" Hawks repeated amused, releasing his lips from the shaft with a smear of saliva and a wet pop.

His smut features got Dabi smirking just a little, his pierced tongue peeking out to wet dried lips as he slowly panted. The fire-bender cocked his head down, playfully.

“Worried you loved it so much that you'll forget about your mate?”

Keigo snorted loud, this time chuckling, blatantly. “You? replacing my mate?" he snickered darkly, "Nah—”

Dabi's thin eyebrows raised, quizzically.

"She's the fuckin' blood running through my veins, the air filling my lungs-" The birdman admitted unashamedly, giving one last long lick to Dabi's twitching cock before standing on his feet, proudly. "She's irreplaceable to me and I came here to fuck HER…. Not the other way around…."

The blond motioned his finger in circles, indicating Dabi to turn around and take it like a good, little cumdump. Just a warm replacement for the Pro Hero to play make-believe while that long month passes, and he is welcomed into your warm embrace again.

Dabi found himself pleasantly surprised by this Hawks, had been a while since someone put him in his place. This promised to be fun.

"Why don't you make me, Number Two Hero of the Country?" The black-haired teased, and Hawks turned methodical.

Roughly yanking the Todoroki who, even putting up some playful resistance, ended up face first against the mattress, his bare butt being lifted into the air by merciless hands, spread like a whore for his tight ring of flesh to be presented and soon eaten by the nation's Golden Boy before being destroyed by his monstrous cock.

"You are going to shut the fuck up," Hawks ordered between twirls of his tongue, "and you are going to let me blow my load inside you," his voice sounded beyond aroused, a breathless snarl. "I don't want to see your fuckin' face while I imagine that you are HER, got it?"

COMING SOON PART 16....

➡️ NSFW Artwork of this story

@wtvbabes @dreamlessnight @naomi1247e @alicecil87 @geniejunn @justanerd1 @bakugosgirl01 @toxicxmindsposts @kezybear

199 notes · View notes

hydrangeapartridge · 2 months ago

Text

Spoiler for Emmrich's questline:

I can't get over the fact that as the player you don't really defeat Johanna. If not for Manfred's intervention, Rook's group would be dead, or worse, trapped like the tortured souls that fuel that lantern. And all because Emmrich can't bring himself to risk his life to save them from the certain death that he fears so much!!!

It shows how irrationnal his fear is; that he won't chose to chance death to avoid being killed! Of course there is more to it: his insecurity when facing someone whose ethics he condemns but whom he admires for having the courage to do what he thinks he could never dream to achieve. His doubts about his abilities and his concerns about lichdom.

And hear me, maybe Emmrich relies too much on Rook too, postponning risking his life in hopes they'll find a solution. They always do. All companions ask for their help to solve their problems and they do.

He knows the lantern can't be destroyed without his intervention because he is a clever scholar and a talented mage, but he is blinded by that fear and belittled by Johanna's degrading comments (let's be honest, she knows him and knows where to press for it to hurt). Until the end Johanna tries to make him doubt his success (tells him he'll never succeed, he's a fool while fearing and knowing he WILL succeed if he gets serious about it). She knows only he can stop her and planned as much as she could to ensure her success. She is not careless and I appreciate that in a vilain.

Only thing she didn't consider is Manfred because she doesn't care for spirits as much as Emmrich does. And it is not Rook, great leader but recent acquaintance, who changes Emmrich's mind and who gives him courage. Rook gives the final push but it is all about Manfred, who followed him for years, showing Emmrich that he believes in him and trusts in his success.

And Emmrich is THE one who puts an end to this quest and to Johanna's plan. He could have done it when they first found the lantern because nothing was done after to make it easier. He could have done it all along but was blocked by the very fear that is the center of his questline. He is the hero of his personnal quest, not Rook. And I love that.

#emmrich volkarin #veilguard spoilers #dragon age veilguard #da the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard #da veilguard #datv #johanna hezenkoss #manfred the skeleton

162 notes · View notes

souliebird · 1 year ago

Text

[[and then i met you || ch.1]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary: A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s.

a/n: Reader is an extremely anxious person. That’s the note.

words: 5.6k

You hope Matthew Michael Murdock is a good man.

You tried to research him online, but you didn't find anything that could sway you one way or another.

The news articles say he's some sort of local hero - not only for being a lawyer who does a lot of pro-bono work but for saving a man from being hit by a truck when he was a kid. They all give his tragic backstory before praising him and his law partner for helping the underprivileged and going after some big shot corrupt businessman - twice. The comments are mostly from people he's helped, singing about how Nelson and Murdock saved them in their times of crisis.

You want to trust them, but you can't.

The news also claimed Hitler was Person of the Year and deserved praise, too, and you know how that turned out. Not that you think a blind lawyer from Hell's Kitchen can be compared to a genocidal leader, but your mental point to yourself still stands.

You know nothing about Matthew Murdock except he's blind, he's a lawyer, and his dick changed your life.

You doubt he even remembers you - a one-night stand from years ago, before his name even started appearing in the news again, and to be fair, you didn't remember him at first, either. Not until four months later when you went in to get your anxiety medication adjusted and the doctor made you take a routine pregnancy test. Then you remembered the handsome blind lawyer who flirted with you at a friend's holiday party you had gone to. You could remember the silly conversation you had about white elephant, that he had the most charming smile, and he could do things with his tongue that made you moan just thinking about, but you could not remember his name.

You had tried to find him, you really did, but your energy and attention was quickly needed elsewhere and the search for your daughter's father lost steam.

Until you saw him on the television while at the local diner, giving an interview with his law partner.

That was yesterday and now you are standing outside the door of his firm, trying to work up the courage to go in.

There's too many scenarios in your head, all of them bad- he's not going to want anything to do with you and your daughter, which you can deal with, or maybe, just maybe, he'll try to take her away from you. He's a lawyer and you work in billing for a transportation company. There's no doubt who the courts would choose and it wouldn't be you.

The thought makes you want to turn and run but you know your daughter deserves the chance to know her father - and he deserves to know she exists. It's his choice, once he knows, if he wants to be in her life or not, not yours.

It scares you so much it's not your choice.

You scrub at your face, trying to work up the courage to actually open the door in front of you when it does just that.

A kind looking woman with strawberry blonde hair is standing in the doorway and you recognize her from the firm's website - Karen Page. She's the third partner in the firm and you didn't really look into her in your hunt for information.

She offers you a smile before speaking, "You look like you're debating coming in." You shrug, unsure what to say because that is exactly what you were doing but don't want to admit it. She looks you over without it feeling judgmental before focusing on the manila envelope in your hand. She steps back slightly and gestures for you to come into the office. "You made it this far. Whatever it is, we'll do our best to help you."

The sentiment is so kind and you know she means well, thinking you are a potential client, but it just causes your throat to get even tighter.

It has been you and your daughter for so long, is this really the right path to take?

You hug your file to your chest and take a hesitant step forward. Then another and another until you are in the office. It's not big or fancy and you didn't expect it to be. There's a little waiting area in front of the reception desk, with another desk shoved against a wall, and on either side of the room, doors leading to what you suspect are the private offices.

Karen goes around to the back of the reception desk and picks up a clipboard holding some paperwork and offers it out to you.

You take it and stare down at it, unsure if you would fill it out or not. When you look back up, Karen is still smiling at you and you don't want to come off as a problem, so you take a seat in the waiting area and start filling out the requested information. As you write out your address, it finally occurs to you that you have no idea how to have the conversation you need to have.

Do you ease into it or drop it on him like a bomb? You had only ever thought about finding him and never about what you would say when you did.

You should have taken more time to plan this out. You're such an idiot - you just jumped right into running towards him like you might lose track of him if you took so much as a second to think. You know his name now, who he is, you can take time to get things sorted out properly.

Would it be weird to leave in the middle of filling out paperwork you shouldn't even be bothering with?

Probably not, but you're already here. There is no point in running.

This is for your daughter, not you. You have to keep telling yourself that.

You don't fill out the information asking about your 'case'. It honestly makes you panic a bit if you start thinking about it all in a legal sense - you know nothing about law and the man you're meeting with graduated at the top of his class from a top law school. Your hand is shaking as you add your signature to the bottom of the page and date it. Reviewing everything takes just a moment, since there's barely anything written to begin with, and your eyes drift up to the logo at the top of the page.

Nelson, Murdock, and Page.

You trace it with your finger.

Matthew Murdock has to be a good man. This firm helps people and he wouldn't be here if he didn't want to help people. He graduated top of his class; he could work anywhere he wanted to. The papers said he is good, too - they win most of their cases.

Unless it's all a weird front to hide something like money laundering.

But if they were money launders wouldn't they have enough money to afford an air conditioner?

"All done?"

Karen is in front of you, smiling politely. You are surprised by her appearance, but you don't feel pressured. It's like she's checking in so that she can break you out of your thoughts and you appreciate that. You nod and hand her the clipboard. She takes it, giving it a once over.

"Foggy will be out in just a minute."

Your head jerks up at that.

"No, I need to see Mr. Murdock."

You can tell Karen is surprised by that and her eyes narrow just a fraction. She searches your face, then she looks towards the door on the left.

You turn your head to follow her gaze.

"Matt!" Karen calls out.

A few moments pass before the door opens and you feel like you're going to throw up.

The cameras don't do him justice.

Matthew Murdock is gorgeous. He was handsome before and somehow, he just got hotter. He's a little taller than you, still as lean as you remember, and looking crisp in a gray suit - like some model walked off the catwalk and into a sweltering office. His hair is shorter than you remember it being. You have the distinct memory of being able to grab onto it, but it's too cropped to do that now.

But the thing that catches your attention the most is that in person and in the light, you can see Matthew's hair has an auburn tint to it.

Just like Minnie's.

The realization shakes your entire world.

This man is the father of your child. He's real. He's no longer a concept of a person, who you knew nothing about, who just existed somewhere in the world.

You have to look away before you start to cry. You don't know where this surge of emotion is coming from - it feels like this wave of relief. This question you have always had finally has an answer.

You tell yourself to take a breath, you know getting overly emotional isn't going to help anything. It might actually make things worse and spiraling into a meltdown is not a good first impression.

You can see Karen in your peripheral vision, and you look up to her, trying to regain your focus.

It's Matthew who speaks first, "Yes, Karen?"

"We have a walk-in who is hoping she can speak with you."

You introduce yourself, standing up as you do. You know he is blind, so you don't offer your hand. Instead you clutch your folder to your chest.

He doesn't seem to remember your name. He turns towards you and gives a polite smile. "It's nice to meet you, I'm Matthew Murdock, but you seem to know that. I have some time right now, please come in. Karen, can you grab us some water before you join us?"

"Yeah, sure," Karen says as she turns to do just that.

Your throat gets tight again.

You don't want to have this conversation with someone else there. It's already going to be hard enough. You'll definitely start crying if Karen is in the room. You cannot deal with two people's reactions. The mere thought of you having to do that is making you sweat.

Matthew's voice breaks you out of your panic. "If that is okay?"

You rush out your response, "I would prefer to speak alone, please." You're too panicked to feel embarrassment.

Karen doesn't seem phased by this. She is still grabbing a couple of bottles of water from the fridge and offering one out to you. You take it.

"Not a problem, let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks, Kare. Please, come this way," Matthew motions for you to follow him into the office.

This is it.

Once you go through that door, you aren't leaving that room without telling Matthew Murdock he is a father.

You surprise yourself by not hesitating and just charging forward into the office.

This isn't about you or your fears.

This is for Minnie.

You keep your gaze forward because you can't bring yourself to look at him. If you stop and look at him before you tell him why you are here, you will just start over analyzing everything once again. You silently beg to whatever gods will listen that everything will be okay, and this man won't destroy you.

He doesn't look like he is going to break your heart.

But you know that looks mean nothing when it comes to pain.

He closes the door behind you with an audible click and the weight of the moment starts to come down on your shoulders.

You take the seat in front of the desk quickly, worried your nerves might catch up with you, placing the water on the ground beside you with your purse when you sit. Matthew doesn't rush, he walks to his desk with an air of quiet confidence and if you were a client, it would be comforting, but you aren't and all it does is remind you why you fell into bed with him.

"What brings you in today, Miss..?" He trails off, prompting you to say your name again. As he reaches his desk you watch as he trails his fingers along the edge, using it as a guide, before moving his hand to brush over the back of his seat before sitting in it.

You chew your bottom lip, wishing you had taken a second to actually plan what you would say instead of jumping in. As far as you know, there isn't a step-by-step guide on how to tell a one-night stand that he's the father of your child - not that you actually looked into that in your desperate research the night before.

Matthew doesn't push as you gather your thoughts. He moves some paperwork away from the center of his desk, then folds his hands there, waiting. You keep your gaze on his hands, needing something to focus your eyes on while you force the truth out.

"I saw your interview last night," you say, deciding to start there, as it seems the most relatable.

Matthew's brows knit together and he tilts his head to the side and you are one again reminded of Minnie. It's a gesture she does often, tilting her little head left and right as she tries to understand something. It always reminded you of a dog and now you wonder if it's not a learned behavior, but genetic.

His lips turn down into a frown and his head stays cocked as he asks, "Do you have information about the Lynch case?"

Heat rushes to your cheeks - of course that would be the question to ask after bringing up the interview. The whole piece was about a specific case they were working on and how it would affect Hell's Kitchen and you hadn't paid any attention to what was said - not after you realized who was on the screen.

You shake your head, resisting the urge to look away and you curl your fingers tighter around the manila folder in your lap. "No, I'm sorry. I saw you and…recognized you."

He straightens up and his demeanor shifts to something less…friendly. It's minute but your messed-up brain screams at you about body language - his shoulders have squared up and you can see where he's clenching his back teeth. You quickly continue on, wanting to get through with your explanation before your anxiety makes you clam up.

"We met nearly five years ago," your voice is firm and factual and you're proud of yourself for that, "at a holiday party."

The words leave your mouth and you know he knows. Every part of him seems to go still - even his breathing seems to stop. The crease between his brow smoothes out, like he's gone from squinting to wide eyes behind his dark glasses. Your heart is pounding in your ears and your throat is getting stiff, but your voice remains steady as you push the words out.

"I think you are the father of my child."

All the color seems to leave Matthew's face and he looks nearly as gray as his suit. The reaction makes your stomach turn. He looks like he is going to throw up.

You bite into your lip, waiting for Matthew to do or say something. All you can do is mentally chant to yourself: he's a good man, he won't take her away.

You know it's probably just seconds, but it feels like hours pass before Matthew moves.

He leans slowly back in his chair, reaching up with one hand to rub at his mouth.

"Are you sure?"

He doesn't sound upset, at least to your ears. His words are cautious - tentative - and it makes your heart go tight in your chest. You don't know if it's fear or hope or everything crashing into you at once now that he knows.

You force out a nod before you remember that the man in front of you is blind. You find your voice and words creep out.

"I'm pretty sure," you start. Your eyes drop away from his hands back down to your lap and you have to lick at your lips to wet them before continuing, "I didn't go out much after that party, I got so busy with work. I didn't…find out until the first trimester was over. By then, I couldn't remember your name. My friends who I went to the party with didn't know you either. I tried to Google you with what information I had, but 'blind lawyer' just got me a lot of disability lawyers." You take a shaky breath, "I understand if you want a paternity test."

You know Matthew is probably taking everything in, but now that you've started talking, it's like you've lifted the dam on your anxiety. You squeeze the file in your lap - just because you hadn't known how you were going to tell Matthew the truth did not mean you hadn't extensively thought about the consequences. Words start to spill out of you.

"I also understand if you don't want anything to do with us, I get it's a big shock. I'm not looking for anything from you." Matthew drops his hand to the desk and if you didn't know better, it would look like he was staring at you. "I just wanted you to know and I thought it would be good for her to know you, but if you don't want that, I get it. All I ask is you fill out some paperwork, medical history mostly so I know if there's anything I need to look out for. I printed it out for you, it's all in braille."

You get up just enough so that you can place the manila envelope on the desk, then sit back down. Your throat is getting so tight and stiff you feel like you're struggling to breathe.

Matthew runs his hand over his desk until he can feel the envelope. His fingers move along the edge and you stare at them, like they are going to be the one to reveal what Matthew is thinking instead of his mouth. He finds the lip but doesn't open, instead flattening his palm against it.

"...her?"

His voice is so quiet you barely hear it. You lift your head to finally look at him and your heart skips a beat.

Matthew looks so soft. The corners of his lips twitch a few times before a smile slowly spreads across his face.

And you know.

You know without a doubt he is your daughter's father. They have the exact same smile. You can't help but to grin as well.

This is good, isn't it? He looks Happy.

"I have a daughter.."

"Winifred.. Winifred Love," you offer. Matthew lifts his head and tilts it towards you, brow wrinkling slightly.

"Love…?" He asks, no judgment in his voice, only curiosity.

You close your eyes in a bit of embarrassment, as you always do during the story, "I meant to put Grace, but I was out of it. I even put a big heart next to it on the paperwork." You aren't ashamed of the story and you love your daughter's name, but it's always a 'oops I was high' moment, even if it was done with the purest intention.

If possible, Matthew's smile gets even bigger.

"Winifred Love," he says, his voice dropping back down to the barely there whisper.

"She goes by Minnie. Like, um.. Like Minnie Mouse," you say. That gets an amused yet fond chuckle. You find yourself relaxing at the noise - like some of the pressure squeezing on your lungs has been lifted and you can finally breathe.

He repeats her nickname and you feel your lips start to turn up.

"How old..?" His voice cracks with emotion and Matthew has to clear his throat before continuing, "how old is she?"

"Three and a half," you answer quickly, "her birthday is a few months away." You bite your lip then hesitantly add, "She wants to go to the zoo. It's all she talks about."

"Yeah?" Matthew prompts. His smile is so so soft and it makes your stomach turn in this pleasant way. However, you were expecting him to act, this is not it. In your heart, you think the best you were going for was acceptance, but this seems much more than that. There is a stinging in the corner of your eyes and you have to take your own steadying breath continuing on.

"Yeah, um.. She…likes maps right now. I got her a map to the zoo and she's got the whole day planned." Which is very much true - your coffee table has been the home of a makeshift zoo diorama for a little over a week now and the itinerary has changed about twenty times.

Matthew ducks his head and nods a little, taking all the information in. You squeeze your fingers in your lap, needing a way to release the nerves still buzzing inside you.

A few moments pass before Matthew clears his throat again, "What else does she like..?"

The question makes you chuckle just a little bit, only because gushing about your daughter is something you're very good at. Since you work at home, it is just the two of you ninety percent of the time, you don't get to coo over her very often.

"She loves arts and crafts - anything she can get her little hands on. Right now she loves pipe cleaners and paper, things she can bend and fold, you know? I set her next to me while working and she'll just fold paper into little shapes. Not origami or anything, just abstract things, she doesn't plan it. She always wants to help, too, whatever I'm doing. Cooking and cleaning. She is the best helper for grocery shopping." You pause, looking over Matthew's smile for a moment before continuing on, tears starting to gather in your eyes.

"She looks just like you," you admit, fondness clear in your voice because it is so so true. Now that you are properly looking at him, Minnie looks just like Matthew, and telling him that makes him light up even more. "You've got the same smile. The same hair. Hers is a little more red, but it's definitely from you."

You watch Matthew lick at his lips and you want to know what is going on in his head. You think everything is going well, even if you are on the verge of crying. They are tears of relief - relief you weren't told to fuck off or to go get your own lawyer. You don't fully know if Matthew Murdock is a good man, but you're over the first hurdle and the prospects are looking good.

Matthew leans back into his chair, inhaling deeply, as if centering himself, then asks, "Why now? Why find me now?"

"Like I said, I couldn't find you, I didn't know anything about you, really, except what you looked like and you were a lawyer. I did try, I really did, but…" you trail off with a shrug, "I had a newborn."

Matthew seems to accept that answer - it is the truth after all - and continues on, "But you saw the interview... Last night?"

You nod, "I was picking up some dinner and they were playing the news at the diner. I saw it and looked you up and now…now you know."

"Now I know…" Matthew repeats slowly, his smile dropping a little and you wonder if is hitting him in different waves, like it did you - the realization he is a father. You know it is an intense roller coaster and you are not going to try to guide his ride, especially after just kind of dropping it on him.

He taps the manila folder in front of him, the crease returning to his brow, "What is this?"

Your cheeks get hot again and you turn your gaze away from him and back to your lap, "Requests for family medical history and information about how to establish paternity, if that's what you want."

"It is," Matthew rushes out. Your head jerks up and his expression looks serious, "I want that. I want to be in her life."

He sounds so sure of himself that it makes your head spin a little. You built up in your mind he either wouldn't want anything to do with you and Minnie or he was going to try to take her away - you hadn't really considered the obvious option that Matthew would just want to be involved. At least, that is what you are hoping he is implying.

"I won't abandon my daughter," the conviction in his voice startles you, but it also makes your heart twist but in a good way because in that moment, you believe him. "And I won't abandon you. I used to question if I had the right to bring a child into my life, but this isn't a hypothetical anymore…. And I can't.." he trails off and leans back into his chair, rubbing at his mouth again. You don't press, you have no right to when you've come out of the blue and changed his entire world. He takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I can't step away now that I know she is out there."

You quickly shake your head at his words, "You don't need to rush into anything, I mean it, I don't want anything from you but for you to have the chance to know her. We can go slow, she's still little, you know? She can't handle a big change. Start small?"

You're more worried about how he is feeling versus what you are. You have at least prepared yourself to have a reaction - he thought he would be having a normal work day and you've given him a lot to process in the last five minutes.

"We can go at your pace, Matthew."

He drops his hand from his face, a smile coming back to his face, "You can call me Matt."

You repeat your preferred name, then apologize, "I'm sorry for coming out of nowhere. I didn't want to lose track of you again, but I could have scheduled an appointment."

Matt shakes his head a little, "No, I get it." His hand goes back to the envelope, like touching it is grounding him like squeezing your fingers is grounding you. "I'm glad you came…I'm glad…thank you. Thank you for telling me."

Part of you wants to reach across the desk and squeeze his hand, to give him comfort and let him know everything will be okay, but you don't dare. He's still a stranger, despite everything. You decide pushing past the emotional to the practical might be the best approach for now. You need to get your anxiety to settle now that you know your world isn't going to end and the best thing for that, in your mind, is getting an action plan.

"I don't know what the steps are for doing this," you start, trying to think up ideas as you talk, "but I think maybe we could…get together again and plan things out? Give you time to adjust to the idea and let you think about how you want to move forward?"

Matt nods along with your words, "That sounds like a good idea."

You bend down to grab your phone out of your purse, "I put my contact information in the packet, but could I get yours?"

He waits until you are ready, then gives you his personal number then the office number. You do the quick song and dance of calling his phone, so that he has your number and you wait patiently as he adds you as a contact. Hearing the voice commands to navigate a phone is new to you and once he is done putting in your information, you let your curiosity get the better of you.

"Do you prefer texting or phone calls?"

"Phone calls would be preferable," Matt says as he sets his phone on his desk, having held it up to speak clearly into it, "I have text to speech but it's not always the easiest for texting."

You nod in understanding, "Got it." You squirm in your seat, unsure of what comes next, so you say the very first thing that comes to mind. "You can call anytime. I work from home so you don't have to worry about interrupting anything…like I'm doing with you."

He hums, then asks, "What does Minnie do during the day?"

"She stays with me, mostly. There's a daycare down the block she goes to if I need someone to watch her. That's where she is now."

That makes Matt frown just slightly and part of you panics that he disapproves. "Is it just the two of you…?"

"Yes."

You say it with confidence. You've worked hard to get where you are alone and despite all you've been through, you are proud of that. "My parents passed when I was in college and I don't have any siblings. We've managed to do pretty well on our own. It's not the biggest, but we have a little place in Chelsea."

The little frown stays and you don't know what it means - you hope it's over you not having a big support system and not something else. Matt looks like he is going to respond but a knock at the door cuts him off. You jump at the noise, having totally forgotten there were other people in the office.

Matt looks slightly annoyed when he calls out, "Yes?"

The door opens and the final partner for the law firm is there. "Pardon the intrusion," he says to you with a nod before addressing Matt, "They've got that guy from last week at the 15th. He's asking for us specifically."

Matt openly scowls before running a hand over his face, "Okay. Give me a few minutes."

Foggy nods before stepping back out and closing the door.

"I'm sorry," Matt says sheepishly.

You cut him off before he can say more, standing as you do, "Please don't be, I really did just barge in on you at work. I can call you later? Or you can call me?"

Matt gets up as well, starting to come around the desk, "I can call you." He hesitates just a second, then ducks his chin, that little smile reappearing and your heart does that funny flip again. "Maybe we can get lunch?"

You smile back, "I would like that. We can start planning." You bite your bottom lip, then add, "I can bring Minnie…?"

Matt's entire face lights up and the awkwardness of trying to end your talk evaporates. "I would like that. A lot." He motions to his desk, "I'll work on getting that back to you. I want to…I want to do this right."

"I do, too."

It feels like a promise. You want to believe Matt - that he wants this and won't disappear at the first minor inconvenience. You've read so many horror stories about bad parents and you don't want any of that for Minnie.

You grab your purse and the water Karen gave you, then finally give Matt a proper look over.

You enjoyed your night together with him. Not only had he been a phenomenal lover, but he had made you smile and laugh. You weren't nearly as anxious then as you are now, but you had been rather nervous being flirted with by a handsome lawyer and he had made you feel at ease. Bringing him home with you had been an easy choice.

He must sense you smiling somehow, maybe you giggled or something, but his smile, which had started to fall, brightens back up.

"Can I ask you something before you go?"

You nod to his question, catch yourself and reply, "Of course."

"Can you tell me what she looks like?"

Guilt courses through you and biting your lip turns painful, "I'm so sorry, of course. Um, I included pictures in the packet with descriptions but, of course." His face drops into something a little nervous so you launch into the description of your daughter, emphasizing how they have the same smile because you can’t get over that. You can't help yourself and start describing some of the pictures you included.

"She has this big noise canceling headband so she can sleep comfortably - she doesn't like loud noises - but because she is three, she refuses to wear it unless it's cute. So we crochet little sleeves for it. One of the pictures is her asleep on our couch, face down, because that's how she sleeps, wearing her favorite sleeve. It's Spider-Man the-"

There's a quick series of taps on the door before it opens again.

"Buddy, we gotta go."

You start to apologize, but Matt speaks over you, his voice a little firm as his expression drops, "I'll be right there, Foggy."

A silent conversation seems to go through them, as Foggy raises his eyebrows at Matt and Matt does the same right back. Foggy steps out of the office, closing the door behind him.

"Let me walk you out?" Matt asks, motioning to the door.

"Thank you."

You let him open the door and you follow him into the reception office. Foggy is looking at his phone while waiting by Karen's desk as she finishes packing her laptop. You cross the room in silence as Matt leads you from the office. Once you are in the hallway, he speaks to you in a soft voice.

"Can I call you tonight?"

"Yes, please."

"Does eight work?"

"That's perfect."

"I'll talk to you then."

You force yourself to be the one to turn away and start walking towards the stairs. As you get to them, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth to try to suppress your smile.

Maybe the papers are right and Matthew Murdock is a good man.

You really hope he's a good father too.

#matt murdock x reader #daredevil #matt murdock #fanfiction #soulie writes

2K notes · View notes

zvtara-was-never-canon · 1 year ago

Note

Can you give examples of Aang showing Empathy? Oh wait, you can't.

Actually, I can - because unlike you, I base my opinion of the characters on the actual stuff that happened in the story, not the bad faith takes dumb people on the internet come up with.

Zuko literally only survived past book 1 because Aang was the ONLY person amongst the heroes that gave a single fuck about his well-being. Aang offered to be FRIENDS with him as early as episode 13, even though this dude is trying to kidnap him.

In the first damn episode we see him realize and try to remedy Katara's struggle with no longer being able to act like a kid and have fun. He wants to travel with her so SHE gets to learn waterbending. He willingly lets Zuko take him into his ship because he understood that a conflict could lead to the people of the water tribe getting hurt or killed.

In Warriors of Kyoshi he apologizes to Katara for letting all the praise and admiration go to this head. He makes sure to put out the fires Zuko and his crew started in Suki's village.

He tries to help remedy the Hei-Bai situation, even though he is unsure of himself and even scared, because he knows he is the only one that has any chance of helping - and the thing that allows him to connect with Hei-Bai is the fact that he is ALSO upset about the destruction the Fire Nation has caused AND hopeful that the world would eventually heal.

He thinks Jet is awesome because he wants to help people that are being oppressed by the Fire Nation - and then is horrified when he finds out his intension is to "free" them by killing everyone

He wants to help the two rival groups not only safely cross the Great Divide, but also stop hating each other.

He confesses that he hid the map to Hakoda because Bato, Katara and Sokka are showing how much they appreciate and trust him and he feels unworthy of it after what he did because he knows it'd hurt him if the roles were reversed.

He is so devastated by the fact that he ACCIDENTALLY hurt Katara that he swears to never firebend again. He is also able to recognize the same principle behind his mistake in Zhao's fighting style, allowing him to win the battle against the bastard.

He accepts the fact that the Northern Air Temple is now occupied by people who not only don't belong to his culture but also don't understand it and unknowingly destroyed something sacred to him (and that one of them had been forced to make weapons for the Fire Nation) because these people have nowhere else to go and he doesn't want them to suffer.

He is furious at Pakku for refusing to teach Katara waterbending, because he knows how much it'd mean to her and how unfair it is that she can't learn it just because of her gender.

He is so devastated by the death of the Moon Spirit that the Ocean Spirit latches onto him to avenge it and save the day - and the leve of destruction it causes haunts Aang, even though the violence was against his enemies. And still, he tries to go into the Avatar state again because people are dying and he can't accept that.

After the fall of Omashu, he wants to rescue Bumi, not because he needs a teacher, but because they're friends.

He felt empathy for Toph when she was explaining to her parents how lonely and unappriacted their over-protection made her feel.

He and Katara both feel bad for snapping at Toph during "The Chase" and wanted to apologize for not understanding that being part of a group was a radical change to her, even though she had refused to even try. He also didn't have a problem with fighting alongside Zuko and Iroh against Azula, AND he looked concerned when Iroh was injured.

After Katara comments on the fact he called Toph Sifu but not her, he calls her Sifu while bowing, to show that he respects her both as his master and friend.

The hopelessness and downright depression he was feeling after Appa was stolen only starts healing because he saw a couple being happy with their newborn baby - the same couple he decided to help cross the Serpent's Pass, even though he and his friends had just been allowed to take a much safer route to Ba Sing Se.

His understanding and sympathy towards Jet, even after everything the guy did, was so strong that it freed him from literal brainwashing.

He doesn't want to push his love for Katara aside to gain power because he cares about her too much - and then does it anyway because, even though not making her his main focus 24/7 offers the risk of her being hurt, him neglecting his mission guarantees she'll get hurt.

He is devastated to learn that the world thinks he is dead because he knows he was everyone's last hope - and yet in the end he still accepts the burden of failure because he understood that, at that moment, everyone would be safer if no one else knew he was still alive.

He goes to a Fire Nation school and bonds with the kids, wanting to give them a taste of freedom and joy, as well as trying to understand what the war is like from their perspective. The same episode also has him pull Katara for a dance because he noticed she was feeling left out.

The boy felt empathy for, and understood the mistakes of, both Ruko and Sozin. SOZIN. Aang could see the humanity in the monster that is responsible for him losing his entire culture and everyone he loved.

When Zuko spoke about wanting to control his impulses so he wouldn't accidentally hurt anyone, Aang explicitly connected with that struggle and saw them being teacher and student as fate, and Zuko agreed because that's how deep their connection was.

Aang is not happy about Katara wanting to murder a man, but he still lets her take Appa on her mission and is not disapproving when she ultimately spares the guy but does not forgive him and makes it clear she never will.

He feels empathy for freaking Ozai, to the point that refuses to kill the guy - even as he has the balls to say that Aang's family, his people, deserved to die. He spared that guy - but only after he had a way to do that without it meaning the death of more innocents. Aang, the pacifist, was going to turn his back on everything he believed in just to avoid more human suffering.

So yeah, miss me with your bullshit and don't come back until your brain is developed enough to understand a cartoon aimed at kindergarterners.

#anti zutara #pro aang

654 notes · View notes

periwinkla · 10 months ago

Text

I think what I love the most about AA is that characters have a duality to them that I don't see often in media. They have actual flaws and do actual bad things, and it's not glossed over. Phoenix is a fundamentally good person, he helps people at the drop of a hat, risks his life for them. Has a penchant for taking strays under his wing. He believes in people... but also not really. He carries a literal lie detector with him at all times, and only employs people who can also peer into other people's hearts. So is he really that trusting? Sure he trusts his clients are innocent, but he doesn't trust they will tell him the truth at all (there's always something to lie about). He believes himself naive, and that's why he works extra hard not to be. Some people think he changed with his disbarment but I feel like when he actually changed was after Dahlia. He became less and less trusting as time went on. And Phoenix actually does forge evidence and risks his subordinate's career, and he says pretty nasty things sometimes (that one time to Edgeworth had got to hurt, badly, especially if you consider that the note could have been genuine at first, which we don't know for sure), has a pretty tactless and somewhat hurtful sense of humor, brings his daughter to cheat at poker, and doesn't tell said daughter she actually has some family left alive. He's secretive, elusive and cryptic, and masks it under a false pretence of goofiness. Miles is, by contrast, very easy to read. He may appear emotionally stunted but is one of the more emphathetic characters. He realizes when he's wrong and immediately needs to correct those wrongs. He grows uneasy and uncertain and eventually recognizes when he's mistaken. By the end of it he begins to help people naturally, without even thinking about it as much as he would have in the past. He helps so many people, he has basically got Phoenix's savior complex 2.0 but the healthy kind where he doesn't jump off a bridge. But... he was also actually cruel, and did send innocent people to their graves (was he really so naive to believe whichever defendant came his way was guilty?). He feigned his death disregarding other people's feelings, and while you could say he had no obligation towards Phoenix (apart from basic decency and respect towards someone who had turned his life around to save him), he still abandoned Franziska, who was still just a kid and had just found out about what her father did. She probably thought, at some point, that the apple didn't fall that far from the tree. That's it's somehow her fault as well. He may be rude and antagonistic, frank to a fault. Isn't afraid of telling stuff to your face. But he also cares about the people he loves so much, to the point he doesn't hesitate to risk his career and break the law multiple times. He may appear a pessimist but he's pretty idealistic at heart, it's quite funny that his favourite show is about an hero of justice, isn't it? Godot is... well, we don't know much about it from before his coma, but he definitely shared Mia's sentiments for helping people in their hour of need. But when he wakes from a 6-year coma he's so broken that he just pins the blame on the most absurd person to blame it on, settles on a complicated plan, and also prosecutes on that particular murder he should just confess upon. Iris was sweet, innocent, self-sacrificing. She knew absolutely nothing about the world apart from what Bikini or her sister told her. She was naive and falsely thought she could fix everything, that her sister was salvageable, that she could save Phoenix. But she still ended up lying to the person she loved and abetting a murder. That's why I love these characters so much. They're interesting and their stories make sense. People don't remain unchanged from what happens to them. People are multi-faceted and complex. You can't sum them up in a bunch of characteristics and aspect them to act on every single one of them, always, consistently. Sometimes people break. They make mistakes they regret, ...and some they don't.

#ace attorney

514 notes · View notes

villainsandvictimsalliance · 7 months ago

Text

So many lonely people on Kaiju No. 8 had found companionship with Kafka.

He's the personification of support. A senpai, a role model, a hero, a friend, a cadet, a reliable worker, even a crush. He's someone you can trust and someone that wants to be there for you. Even the comedy relief guy or the saviour of the day!!

In the latest manga chapters he was a plushie for a little girl.

There's Reno who lost his entire family. Kafka took the role of the senpai with him: guide and teach the guy, talk with him, show him how to survive and inspire him. Reno met a genuinely good guy that was openly offering his help and friendship, so he went back to thank him and do the same. Hey, your dream is not over, Reno said. What did he get in return? Kafka sacrificing his life for him, telling him to run, giving up the most important thing in his life for Reno.

There's Mina, who is terrified of being alone. She found a personal clown in Kafka, yes, but he was also the boy who helped her keep her hope and made things easier. He would always go with her to the shelter during a kaiju attack, even if he was in another school. He told her she didn't have to kill kaijus all alone. He promised to be by her side. Mina was thrown into a world of giant burdens and expectations, where her failures could mean death and destruction. Kafka saw her not as the weapon she was, but as Mina.

Hoshina was constantly disrespected, overlooked and ignored. He gave Kafka a chance because he reminded Hoshina of himself. For his troubles, Hoshina got a guy that would work hard to reach his expectations, that would rival him, that would call him first thing and spend all that time worried and would apologize before turning into a kaiju to save their lives. Kafka became a friend of sorts to Hoshina through hard work and respect.

Kikoru was used to all types of reactions from the people around her, but not to the level of worry and pride and trust Kafka gave her. It was not for show, he was completely open and sincere in his feelings. Kikoru you're an asshole, Kikoru you're amazing, Kikoru pleaseeee take care of yourself, Kikoru I won't disappoint you, Kikoru you have my permission and gratitude if you kill me if I ever lose control, Kikoru I trust you to finish this battle.

The first thing Kafka did during the second part of the recruitment was support Aoi and Haruichi during their subjugation of a kaiju.

He saved Minase's life by partially turning and risking his life for it. He saved Iharu and Reno that day against No. 9.

Narumi told Kafka that only they knew the weight of the burden they carried for being there the day Isao Shinomiya was killed. Freaking Narumi, who wouldn't share that burden with anyone else.

Like it was noted by his boss while he was still part of the Cleaning Corps, Kafka would do his job after complaining, but he'd do it perfectly and do it again if asked to.

He's reliable. I know I said it before, but he is.

In a world where anyone can die any minute, in the Kaiju Country, Kafka is a presence you don't want to vanish. It's what Mina says: everything is easier with him around, anything is possible.

When in the first chapters Kafka tells the little girl to not be afraid because he'll go and everything will be okay— the girl thanks him. In the anime, the little girl even asks Mina to please not hurt the good kaiju. Once people have met him, they don't want him to go. They'd do anything for him not to go, not to die. When Kikoru saw him losing control and remembered her promise, she decided that she'd rather believe in him 'til the end. When Isao was about to disappear, he thought about Kafka and said he'd leave things up to him too.

Isn't that what it means to be a hero? To be able to say "leave it up to me" but also trust others to help you when you need it? Inspire people to support you because you supported them first?

The only thing scarier than the kaijus is to be left alone in the world— and Kafka fights that.

#shan's kaiju no.8 posts #kn8 spoilers #kaiju no.8 spoilers #spoilers #kaiju no. 8 spoilers #kaijuu 8 gou #kaijuu no. 8 #kaiju no. 8 #kaiju number 8 #kaiju n8 #kaiju no. eight #kafka hibino

264 notes · View notes

noxturnalmoth · 10 days ago

Text

What Could Have Been

Summary: Silco, the Eye of Zaun, the Industrialist, was first and foremost a son of Zaun who wanted his motherland free. After an altercation in which his adopted daughter shot him in a fit of rage, he is left dying while the world goes on without him. His life's work and ideals soon trampled to nothing as his memory fades from the world. But what if he was saved?

Warnings: Canon Violence

Word Count: 8,366

Masterlist: here

Chapter 4 - Rebirth

Your lie didn't strain the trust he entrusted you with, quite the opposite, because he seemed almost proud with you the following days. Opening up as if that piece of information about you, your past and operations, were enough to see the full picture. And if so you wonder what kind of picture he saw, was it grotesque, boringly neutral or was it beautiful? No matter what the answer was, he seemed more respectful of you, yet that didn't translate in rigidness but in a more relaxed composure that had you smiling in relief. Seeing a man who fought all his life shed parts of his armor or at least his weapons, because of you, was something you took in stride, an honor. Especially coming from someone you could consider a childhood hero and an inspiration to your little insurrection.

It was charming, seeing Silco talk more to your community and clients as another month passed. His commercial smiles were rarer, leaving place for small, fleeting, yet genuine ones, like a gentle breeze during the burning summer heat in Zaun, cooked under and between metal plates and stone like you were in an oven. People asked as much about him as they did about you, the conversations longer and friendlier, the clipped fear melted into comfortable warmth. You didn't know if you could call him that to his face, but you were beginning to see the man as a friend and you hoped he did too, although you didn't mind if he didn't. It was crazy to come back home and banter with the man, have a routine, a cozy metronome rhythming your life between co-working and sharing a flat.

His jokes were dry, sharp, stated like facts, and they would be taken as such if it wasn't for the shine in his eyes, the slightly teasing tone of his voice and the hint of a smirk stretching his scarred lips. He was witty and fast, sending you in a verbal joust everytime he dared kid around you, and those might be your favourite moments. Underneath the professionalism and coolness, albeit must more softened that it used to be, he usually displays is a really interesting man. And you know it wouldn't be anytime soon or even ever that he'd grow soft around you like he did around his daughter. The tone, behavior and thought process he used around her was that of a loving father, she was all he had for a long time after all, other than his empire of course. But you could only wish to taste some of the sweetness he could give out, after all one craves what they cannot have, and you didn't count on ever recieving such treatment from him. But this...whatever it was, friendship, companionship, partnership that you shared with him would be enough for now, forever if that is how he decided it to be. And it wouldn't bother you one bit.

Not when business was booming due to your newfound collaboration, your working speed increased, your work load shared, it made money come in and new clients stay. But especially not when you finally felt like the missing piece of the puzzle had been placed in your hands, someone who understood you even beyond words. Now did you know where that piece went? No, you don't think you will for a long time, especially since it's Silco. But at least you had it, and it brought you new life, a pep in your step as your lungs seem to breathe easier, energy somewhat always a little more than it had been for...ever. He'd stay up later to help you in planning your small scale revolution, his years of experience giving you the upper hand with new found passageways and better plans, combining two minds into perfect one woman operations. He'd always care for you if you came back injured, gentle hands and a more detached voice, yet it was never mean and always careful. Once upon a time you would've found it insulting, thinking he was seeing you as an incapable fool, yet now you could almost see tension in his shoulders and tasted the concern on his tongue. Since the night you came bloodied and battered, you had shared a bed, Silco refusing to allow you anywhere near the couch at night time even preferring to care for you in the alcove. He said it was because the light was better and you two could get into whatever position he deemed necessary easier, but you had a hint of a suspicion that he was doing this simply because he liked having someone to care for again. After all, even when your face was untouched he prepared you a basin of hot water and a cloth to put over your eyes.

But you'd never tell him you knew, both out of respect for him and because it somehow made it feel more like a secret, more intimate.

No one had cared for you like that before, so up close and personal. And it felt weird to admit you did crave the touch that followed every mission you sent yourself on. And you felt motivated by looking into Silco's eyes, the clashing waves and roaring flames welcoming you in their embrace as he held a stare full of unsaid words of approval and care. But when he did it was "don't be stupid", but you knew he meant be careful. It would be "not bad" or a small huff expulsed with a slight curl of his lips instead of good job, narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows with a "you're an absolute moron" and a gentle yet firm grip of his hands on you instead of are you hurt. But you knew. And you'd play the game, letting him know you understood by answering with "the only stupid one here is you, you old fossil", "pretty great if I do say so myself" and "you should've seen the other guy". It was in his comfort zone, helping him maintain a control over the dam of his feelings yet letting him express it however he wished to, allowing him to lead the dance although he was as lost as you were. But he was learning fast, and you were proud of that.

Cooking was still shared in the same way yet something else had changed, since he prohibited you from getting on the couch past dinner time you slept back in your bed, Silco taking up the downstairs. No longer did the soft blanket wrap around you as you slept, yet it felt all the same, the sheets smelling like him before you washed them not too long ago. He smelled like the tobacco of your shared cigarettes, the metal from the forge, the whiskey you both drank, residues of earlier coffees and a hint of something akin to old books.

Not that you paid too much attention of course, it was just because you slept in the same bed he had for months. Your bed yet it felt ever so slightly different, not quite yours yet not his either.

"Alright Silco, I'll close up for lunch and get us something, what do you want?"

He hums pensively. "Would Vasha's sound alright to you?"

You nodded, excited at the thought of the chirean vastaya and his delicious assortments of fried foods. "You know how to speak to my soul." He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head before the bell rings, signalling someone entering the shop. It rang a dozen times and you were suddenly alert, looking outside of the staff room through the window to see well hidden lookouts in the streets. All had copper mouth guards which could only mean one thing. Chross.

"I had no idea you were in the business of making clients wait." Says the old man, sitting on his wheelchair, small glasses making his eyes look beady like a bug's.

"And I had no idea you were stupid enough to come here, although I did wager you'd know of Silco sometime soon, if you hadn't for months already."

"You revealed your big secret just like that? Have you no care for the man currently hiding like a coward in the back room?"

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you crossed your arms and leaning them over the table.

"We both know you wouldn't come here to order from me. You're far too much of a posh, self-absorbed bastard to remember that us lowly people exist and are worth something too although all your information comes from us, how surprising of a man like you." Your voice is light yet a soft snarl is heard, vibrating through the tense air between you two, the gentlemen in the room buzzing at the words.

"And so was the man you're hiding."

With that you let out a cackle. "I didn't even need to hide him because you Chem Barons have become stupid from too much oxygen and power. And yeah, he was an asshole, but compared to all of you good for nothings at least his sin stemmed from a genuine care for Zaun and its people. Not like you disgusting lot." You look them up and down, one by one, your face souring teasingly as if to show how repugnant you thought they are, and it would be nothing but the truth.

"Now now, no use to be so...uncouth-"

"Yak yak." You cut him off rudely. "Now tell me what the fuck you want before I release to the public the juicy information on your special operation with the enforcers in which you give them intelligence and let your fellow Zaunites get caught in exchange for some dirty money. How long do you think it'd take for your empire to burn then?" A smirk slices through your face like a knife, specifically the dagger Silco gave you.

"I just wanted to make sure my old friend, was faring well."

"Lie again and I'll send pictures of your counter deals with the up and coming Horned Angels, that you definitely didn't pay to assassinate enforcers you worked with to keep your slice of the pie."

And before Chross could speak again Silco appeared from behind, walking in from the back room, hands dried with a towel that he slings over his shoulder.

"I'd listen to her if I were you, old friend." The last word is almost spat out. "The little lady seldom makes threats she doesn't follow through with." He settles next to you, leaning his hips on the border of the counter, eyepatch still on.

"You hide your eye now, and you dress like the rats?"

"I am the Eye of Zaun no more, I have no need to keep that pesky thing out to scare the world." Silco caresses the eyepatch lightly. "And those rats you speak so lowly of are your source of revenues, so I'd be careful if I was you."

"The Eye of Zaun no more, mh?" Chross hums pensively. "Then the informations were right, you have been domesticated by a wench."

"I'd watch my language if I were you Chross, she is every little bit as dangerous as I am."

"Ah yes, the young revolutionary." Chross sighs, frustrated that the conversation wasn't going his way. "You've been a pain in our side for a long time now. Dangerous indeed. You're very good at what you do...for a woman by herself. But nothing that couldn't be expected from one of Keradon's, especially not his killer. Look at you now, playing the hero for lowly people and protecting the disgraced head of the Barons, how far the mighty have fallen."

You sigh, straightening up on the counter, eyes heavy with bubbling rage beneath your lids. Nodding your head quickly towards the door, mentioning Silco to lock it, you shove your fists in your pockets before walking around the counter, setting yourself next to the aged, dapper man.

"Manners." Silco opens the door and rolls down the metal curtains. "Maketh." He enters back and slides the first lock shut. "Man." The second one clicked, resounding in the silent room, stuffy with apprehension. "Those are the principles of the ones under your employ yet their manners are left to be desired, and you do not seem to care for such things either, morals and ethics even less. Unless pretense counts. In which case you'd be the most honest man in Runeterra." Your voice slights at the Baron.

"But I fear that isn't the case and that respect is not your forté either now is it Chross?" Silco says, leaning against the closed wooden door, arms crossed and face rigid, he almost looked like the Industrialist he used to be at that moment. Yet something deep within that teal eye of his pierced through the stormy ocean, rays of sun indicating the way, the dark violence of black rolling clouds somewhat tamed into less of a chaotic maelstrom and more of a controlled tempest.

"See, we knew you'd come to cause problems. And we discussed what we'd to with you once the moment reached us. A lot has been said, Silco was more partial to torture, and I to leave you one chance to explain yourself before bashing you 'til next Sunday."

"Now that you've not only insulted your own people, but also she and I, you've lost that chance. So instead of chosing what to do, why don't we do both? I bet she learns quick." The deep rumble of Silco's voice is heard, the sheer intensity of his tone making bodies shiver and hairs stand.

Chross was now fidgeting next to you, measuring pros and cons of attacking you as you and you partner stood on each side of the room, eyes set on them men in the room like predators eyeing their prey.

And all of a sudden the man next to you has his face smashed on the counter, your knee kicking him in the neck then stomping on his lap as you held his head. Switching to those behind you, you quickly get in your usual stance, low and agressive like a starved beast. In the blink of an eye you were at their throats, bones cracking, teeth grinding, bruises blooming at your hits; Silco running through his enemies with an ease of movement you could expect from him yet which still surprised you, slippery and fast as his dagger cuts through flesh and fabric. By the time you were done Chross was still on his wheelchair wheezing and groaning.

"So, you will appologize and then when you get out you will protect this secret with your life, no word about Silco or all the informations about your shady deals are being released and we'll watch with great pleasure as you get ripped apart." Your voice is almost detached as you crouch down, grabbing the man's jaw roughly to force him to look at you, your face smashing against his in a bruising headbutt. "The Eye of Zaun is dead. You hear, Chross?"

He nods, head swerving from side to side in pained dizziness as you drag him forward, Silco opening back the locks and curtain.

"And since you've been so keen on wasting our time." Your partner begins, inching dangerously towards Chross, his saunter slow and deliberate. "You will remind your lackeys that we are off limits, except if you want them to come back in body bags. And you better turn a blind eye to our actions too, a vigilante in Zaun is fine, but a name dropping trencher is a breaking of the code. And that would mean punishment for you, we wouldn't just let you infringe on the rules without consequences after all."

The tall man crumpled in his seat at a sudden punch from Silco and slowly yet shakingly straightens up, looking around at his deceased goons with frustration and fear, his chest heaving, face bleeding and his glasses broken on his face.

"Oh and since you've cut our lunch break you'll make your boys clean their friends up, that means also cleaning my shop, and give us your money. I'm sure you'll run faster with your wallet lighter." Your hand extends to the Chem baron, grabbing the air until a wad of notes was placed on your hand, the man going outside to call his men. The group making quick work of the dozen of bodies before wiping the floor of any and all blood under your smug, watchful eye, Silco standing next to you harboring the same expression before turning to you.

"I told you, you're a pissant."

"And you're as much of a bastard as I am, don't play coy." You slap his arm and in recoils in false offense, the play easy for you to decypher but making the men in the room rush their way out.

"I appologize for bothering you, ma'am, sir. Have a good day." At Chross' appology and departure, you both look at one another with something akin to victory painted on your faces as the bell rings one last time.

With huffs of laugh you close shop together after writing a little sorry note that you stuck to the door.

Business having taken more time than we'd have hoped,

the shop will be closed until 3 p.m instead of 2 p.m.

Thank you for understanding,

the Glass Anvil duo

And with that you walked out, greeting others on the street as you made your way to Vasha's your backs were straighter, chests puffed a bit more while your fellow Zaunites smiled at your passage.

You had successfully secured Silco's place here within your community and now he was fully separated from his past, for good.

With how important the information you detained was, you knew that Chross would not dare to, well....cross you. He'd keep this safe with him until his demise and the information would die with him, and with how decrepit he looked you wagered it wouldn't be much time until then.

Arriving at the chirean vastaya's stall you ordered your usual, revelling at the prospect of hot, crispy, fried delicacies filling your growling stomach. It had surprised you just how much Silco adored this type of food, revelling in the hot greasy and crispy finger foods, probably not used to such hearty meals as he'd always be working, preferring something quick. Yet with how he cooked you could bet he always made time to prepare something healthy for Jinx, healthy food for a growing girl.

Speaking of Jinx, in the last few months due to her attack on the council she had become Piltover's number 1 enemy, wanted posters stuck all over the walls. You avoided talking about her to Silco, knowing he was probably beyond hurt at how the world saw his little girl, yet while you hated the thought of one of your own hunted down, she did cause a lot of trouble. Trouble you've had a part in fixing by helping her father.

As a Zaunite, you hoped the girl was fine. As Silco's partner, you hoped she was safe.

You didn't know the girl, but from how she sounded back then, the rumors about her since a little above seven years ago and Silco's reactions: you knew enough. She was broken just like you, and although you would never forget or condone the hurt she's caused, you could forgive or at the very least understand.

This afternoon after opening back the shop, people came in as always, ordering and speaking to the both of you, their tone holding a bit of pride.

"Not too bad for an half-blind owl. There might be a chance for you yet as a Zaunite." Was what Oleg, the same man who you had corrected on Silco's first day, mumbled proudly with his hand on your collegue's shoulder two weeks later. Patting twice before squeezing and letting go, nodding his farewell before walking away from you.

"Wow, that's as close of a compliment as you'd get from him."

"And I wager that you'd know?" His voice drawls.

"Oh yeah, you both are quite the same in that sense. Never a thank you, a please or a good job. You ungrateful pricks." You laugh as you wipe some of your dripping sweat away, Silco pulling on your ear.

"I'm ungrateful now am I? Mh?"

"Yup. But it's fine, you make it up with your half-assed nonchalance, the words still mean what they mean no matter how much you hide it Silco." You muse.

Before the banter continued you both heard the bell ring multiple times, panicked voices filling the shop.

"They're gassing the streets!"

"They've deployed a strike team!"

"They're interrogating all of us!"

But the most shocking of all.

"They're using the grey!"

The gas that fills the levels of the Undercity, industrial coal or fuel fumes mixed with whatever chemicals Piltover decided to use that day, fusing in a thick deadly fog. Despite its name the grey was green, so heavy you could cut it with a knife, so foul it rotted you from the inside out, turned people blind, deaf or mute, clogged airways, and brought forth many more illnesses and lethal side effects than you could count.

"They're at the Fringes, they're getting closer, please we need masks!"

As a Zaunite your answer was a yes from the moment the moment they entered your shop for help and as a Sumper it had become a mission for you to provide as many masks as possible for your people, after all you grew where the chemical filled air and water were the worse.

"Get me all the filters you can from every shop possible, I have some but it won't suffice, get more people in on it too, make them all come here. We'll make your masks."

"And tell them exactly what you told us. If they're reticent, just tell them that if they'd rather die then they're very welcome to do so. But we will fight to gift as many people clean air as possible. We do not know when this attack will stop, so we need to stand together." The gravelly voice spoke, turning to you as you prepared filters and sheets of metal in the forge.

"Now go!" And at your voice, they did. Rushing out, yelling in the streets to rally more people as you got to work, paper scribbled on as you planned your masks, sheets of metal cut, heated, then folded and hammered into shape, holes pierced into them before you installed the filter and switched to the next one. Meanwhile Silco went to go look for filters of his own aswell as to make sure every home had gotten the information about the current situation.

Piltover had resoluted to use chemical warfare.

And that meant that they used the vents and pipes that they designed specifically to give you trenchers fresh air and to rid you of some of the grey.

It was an ugly feeling, the rage you were currently feeling. Red and hot like the metal beaten by your hammer, bubbling just beneath the surface as you try to hold yourself together. They saw you as good for nothings and monsters, as rats, as parasites, yet they're the ones pulling all of the most horrible stunts, hidden beneath gilded confidence and riches. And today proved you just that. Not only had they used one of the most horrible things plaguing Zaunites as a weapon, but they also prepared a strike team. It was not a big group of basic dim witted pigs, no, those were elite enforcers in a small condensed team. More dangerous than an entire station.

"We got filters!"

"Thank you boys, stay safe, you see smoke and you run alright?"

"Yes ma'am."

And that went on for days until the grey arrived in your own small part of the Undercity, your people equipped with masks as they walked the foggy streets, even in their homes. Yet you still worked. The Fringes, Entresol and Sump had been equipped to the best of your ability, Silco having joined you to make the process faster as your shop focused on providing Zaunites with masks, stalling any other orders. Sometimes he went out, rushing in the streets to see if anyone was trapped in the the grey, bringing them back to the shop so you could provide them with masks and comfort before sending them back on their way. His speed and deceptive strength helping as many people as his body allowed him to for the day.

After a week the grey grew thicker behind the glass windows on the front of your shop, and soon it was so heavy that nothing seemed to exist outside. Your door kicked down as the smog swooped in the room. Silco crawled, using the fog as a cover to go hide in the break room between boxes as you worked hard, the flame of the hearth illuminating you, the sole sounds in the room were the clinking of your hammer and the crackle of the fire burning hot behind you. An almost demonic dark shape stared from the shadows, slowly approaching until you could discern five body shapes.

"So you've arrived."

"You've been expecting us?" Said a classic high Piltovan accent, the same one you heard in the warehouse the night you saved Silco, this was Cait, or as you realized with the news of the council, Caitlyn Kiramman.

"Your operation is not exactly all that inconspicuous, even a blind man could see the damage you're causing. Very Piltovan of you Kiramman."

"Listen, we just want to know where Jinx is." That was Vi, the other girl who was there that night, and a fellow Zaunite. Your anger reached a boiling point, the bubbling anger turned into burning rage as you look at them, finally looking up from your anvil. They all wore great quality gas masks, that damned navy uniform, and had...hextech weapons? You scoffed, so much for "wanting hextech to be an instrument of help and peace", right mister Man of Progress?

"You piece of shit." The pink haired girl recoiled and her teammates approached. A large man with a riot shield, a small girl with a shotgun, a slim man holding batons and arboring a big backpack, aswell as Kiramman and Vi heself. "You're using the grey against your own people? What a great Zaunite you are, really the pride of our people aren't you?"

"Please we just want to stop my sister! She's caused enough damage."

"Maybe she has, but do you fucking realise you're only stoking the flames, girl?!" Your voice gains in volume as you step around your work station, hammer in hand while approaching Caitlyn. "Your mother is dead Kiramman, my appologies and condolences. But do you fucking realize where you are, mh? A place where all of us have lost everything even our humanity in Uppercitizen's eyes all because of you people! A place where we deal with such deaths everyday! But do we fight back? Do we gas, attack and interrogate you? No! Because we can't and you Pilties make sure of that, because you make sure we're grovelling to serve you yet never get enough to fight back! And yet you think using the grey against us is righteous for the death of three fucking people? Well four, but you wouldn't care about the dead Zaunite, now would you?"

You yell out, pointing your hammer at the girl, her confidence waning. Then you turn to Vi.

"And you, a trencher that betrays her own people."

"Because my sister is dangerous!"

"Yes she is! But so are you! How many have you killed? How many do you still want to kill? How many have died during this operation alone because of the grey? You hypocrite, calling your sister a monster while you're the same."

"As if you're any better." Chimes in an accented voice, the small girl was standing differently than the others, the tension that they all felt was all but absent from her and you could see something was clearly off about that.

"Talk all you want, little bird, you're not innocent either. I can smell more blood on you than on any of them, so don't try me." You get closer to her, her shotgun pointed and touching your chest directly. "The difference between you gods damned peanuts and I is that I know I'm a monster, beats being a self-righteous ass that can't see the weight of their crimes. Or maybe you do see them but feel pride, mh?" Your hand grips the weapon as she tenses, pushing it away from you.

"How can you breathe in the grey? I thought it was impossible."

"When you're a Sumper, a factory worker or a miner it's all you ever breathe. Your little trick is doing nothing to me. Now, if I were to take away your masks, what do you think would happen?"

The girl quickly steps back and the slim man holds your arm, it was gentle, as if he wanted to calm you down. Yet you grab his hand, as gently as he grabbed you, and pushed it away while sighing to try and keep yourself from initiating a fight.

"Jinx isn't here, I got no idea of where she is, now fuck off from my shop, my space and my city. And pink girl?" You call out to her, a sharp breath indicating she was listening. "Don't bother coming back to Zaun, and if you do, avoid this area. I don't know if I'll be able to stop myself from making you a stain on the pavement." You turn and walk back to your anvil, your form displayed threateningly with the roaring hearth flames. "That goes for any of you, by the way. So if you step a foot in Zaun, do watch your backs."

Their forms are tensed, jumping at each hit of your hammer on hot metal.

"We appologize for wasting your time." Your hammer stops at Vi's voice.

"You better be more sorry at how many people you've traumatized or killed with your fucking stunt, girl. I hope you're happy with yourself." Cait places a hand on Vi's shoulder, stepping in front of her.

"And do be careful with threatening high ranked officers, we could've done much damage had we wanted to."

"Sure thing Kiramman, I would've wiped the floor with you and that's why you haven't attacked although you've had every occasion to at my insubordination. Now go before I reconsider my generosity."

The two men nod, leaving your shop with small bows. Then followed Vi and Caitlyn who had stared at you for a while before going for the door. The last one was the peculiar girl, her fists clenched as she stayed there, looking at you.

"Need another lesson, girl?" Your voice snaps her from whatever thought had her looking downright murderous towards you, her steps clicking against the floors before the bell rang one last time.

And you continued hammering, the scalding heat of the hearth and metal somehow multiplied by ten in the thick chemical fog, your lungs heaving in rage and exhertion as sweat pearled on your body. Only when the fog started dissipating did Silco come out from the back, his steps silent and presence unnoticeable up until he released a big sigh. His steps led him to the counter on which he leaned on with his hips, arms crossed, a few strands of hair landing on his forehead and dangling over his face at their length. He hadn't cut his hair since he first arrived and it was growing longer, it went from the straight slick back and shaved sides to a more fluffed style, the hair on the sides growing as does the top. He looked younger, his hair healthier as his constant habit of raking his fingers through his hair disappeared little by little over the past six months, still present yet barely.

"That was agression I've never seen before coming from you. Yet I understand it all the same, your self control is unbelievable." His low voice rumbles before you hunch over the anvil, hot metal burning your flesh was not even accounted for as you took deep calming breaths.

"Trust me, I'm surprising myself too. But if I stoop as low as these animals, what would that make me?" You hiss, the pain of your burns finally catching up to you as you rip yourself away from the metal, forearms marred in new burns.

"It would make you what they see you as, what they see all of us as."

"Well to hell with that, and with them." Silco kills the heat in the forge before dragging you to the back, leaving your arms under the running faucet with cold water before sitting you down on a chair and picking up your first aid kit.

"How do you feel about closing up early today, mh?" He says, handling you as gently as he usually does when treating your wounds, cleaning the burns on your arms. "We could go to sector thirty seven in zone nine to take a walk."

"As in, the shores?" He nods, ointment gently rubbed on the painful red marks and boils. "Why there?"

"It's somewhere that means much to me. And I feel like as much as I know about you, you know so little about me. I...plan on clearing some things up, I suppose." He pauses, hands grabbing the bandages before his gaze met yours.

"You don't have to if you don't wish to Silco. it's not fair if you feel like it's simply to balance the ledger."

"It's not, I do wish to tell you. No one but Sevika truly know the full story, and she was more my employee than she was a friend, even though once upon a time it was the case." He starts to move, the bandages softly wrapped around the big burn marks, tightened enough to be safe yet not too much to hurt you more than necessary.

Your breath hitched at that, the impression he had called you his friend making the remaining rage quit your body and replace it with a relaxed sense of joy. That feeling stayed for the rest of your journey to River Pilt, and sitting down on the shores, looking at the evening sky, you felt different. That joy had ebbed away to leave a small tension as you looked to the horizon.

"Am I your friend then?"

He turns, gazing at you inquisitively.

"You said Sevika knew the whole story and she'd been your friend once. Does that mean..." You trail off, unsure.

"You've been my only friend since..years. Even when I didn't want you to be."

"Good, I was scared to be the only one of us thinking this way." Was the gentle answer you gave, leaving the air open for him so that he could open up when he was ready. And it took a while, as if the words were trying to claw their way out but his body forbade him to let them out, but in the end he closed his eye and took a deep breath, removing his eyepatch at the same time.

"You surely remember the Bridge revolt." You nod at his words, soft yet filled with a maelstrom of hidden feelings. "Benzo, a childhood friend of Vander and I, had gotten arrested and would be brought to Stillwater where he'd probably spend the rest of his days. I was young, naive, and although I was not usually impulsive, that day I was. He was family, and like hell I'd let him simply get caught. So a group within the Children of Zaun and I ran to save him."

He takes a deep breath, his ink black eye swirling with emotion as the orange of his iris flickered like a dying flame, his evebrows furrowed while he tongues the inside of his cheek.

"Within that group was another childhood friend, her name was Felicia, she was a miner like Vander, Benzo and I were. She was a mother of two, and on that day, on that attack that I planned, she died with her husband. Not only leaving two young girls alone, one ten years old and one merely five, but also emptying her spot in our lives as our best friend."

One of his legs shifts up, bending to accomodate his elbow as he hel his head in his hand, the other draped on his other thigh.

"When Vander saw that he attacked me, stabbing and slashing me, clawing at my eye..." His eyes look down at the river. "..drowning me. He had all the advantages in the world in weight, height and agression. I was just shocked, terrified and betrayed, and no matter how much I fought I knew I couldn't win, so I acted like I had died and his hands left my neck. It almost felt peaceful, the silence after this violence, after this horrible day, yet when the air ran out I was forced to come back up with my lungs screaming, my eye came next."

He turned his face to you, his teal eye now also visible as you looked at his scar, grey, and fleshy, as if unhealed even after all this time, the color of his eye and its state now making much more sense to you.

"Your eye is because of the chemicals?"

"Yes." He muses darkly, nodding as another sigh leaves his lips.

"And the girls?"

"They got raised by Vander along with two boys. Seven and a half years ago I started gaining on him and Benzo and him died. Although Vander was during the explosion at the cannery after I...caught him and tried to make him see his way to bring forth the Nation of Zaun left us in a stalemate with Piltover. The two boys died trying to get him out, the oldest girl Violet was fighting off shimmer enhanced lackeys with her fists and got out alive. The the most tragic of all was the youngest girl Powder, who wanted to save her brothers and sister aswell as her father, she made a little bomb..."

"...a little girl was the cause of the explosion?"

He nods again. "Indeed. And that's the day her sister abandonned her, calling her a jinx, and I found her."

You breathe in sharply, the pieces of the puzzle of Silco's life got clearer, more than half of it finally depicting the image you worked towards.

"Then...what happened to you?"

"Violet had been taken to Stillwater after that, broken out by the Kiramman girl after seven years."

"Caitlyn?" He purses his lips and tilts his head in agreement, his eyebrows raising for a second.

"Jinx thought her dead, or like she abandonned her for good along with the deaths of her family, the girl had been fractured, psychosis, hallucinations, attachment issues..she had gained the lot. I did my best to raise her but as an orphan raised in the mines and with much unhealed trauma myself, I've made her worse. I tried, but I could've never been good or enough for her."

You wrap an arm around him, and although he tenses he quickly lets out a sigh, his whole body melting into the touch.

"You did all you could with what you knew, at least you truly loved her and not many of us can attest to the same. She was never hungry, never cold and never alone. You weren't a great father, but you were the best father you could manage to be, especially to someone as young and broken as her."

Your arm squeezes around him comfortingly.

"Things escalated between Hextech, the new councilor, my rise in Zaun, my daughter had started causing chaos albeit under my command but also under her own, and at the peak of this tension sat a crucial moment. Jayce Talis, a man who we can say many things about except that he isn't honest and hard working, met up with me to discuss giving Zaun blanket amnesty, sovereignty, access to the hexgates...And he had but one price."

He leans towards you.

"Your daughter..."

"Indeed. My daughter, my best friend's youngest child, the girl that had kept me going all this time. And I tried to haggle, yet he wouldn't hear it. That day I visited Vander for the first time in seven years, his statue situated at the square of the Lanes. Our creation for our people, our first step towards independency, our first successful large scale rebellion. And I finally told him I understood why he had chosen peace over war, and that although I had forgiven years ago I now saw the bigger picture. When you raise and love children of your own, any harm coming to them is unthinkable, and she had nearly died and became a part of a transaction to get what was my one dream, our dream, for decades. She heard me, thought I considered it and captured me, inviting her sister and Caitlyn for a game in which she would decide who she truly was."

His eyes told you all you needed to know as you squeezed him yet again. "Powder or Jinx?"

"Indeed. But with her sister there, fighting so hard for her to come back, Caitlyn being in opposition and I fighting for her as my daughter, it triggered an episode and.."

"..And you nearly died."

"She shot blindly, she was blind at that moment, head filled with visions of the past and the present. She wanted them gone."

"But ended up shooting you....And your death was what prompted her to attack the council. That much I theorized."

His chest rises and falls deeply, his eyes glossy.

"She's not a bad person. She just had a bad life."

"And so did you. You're a good man who did awful things, but deep down...You always were that boy from the Children of Zaun, even after grief, anger and fear clouded your heart. You never stopped loving your people, you began loving your daughter, even Vander, yet you never saw that the one who needed love beyond all of that was yourself. And that's what made you lose sight of what truly mattered in the nation of Zaun, it's not the fact it needed to happen soon, it's not what you'd have to do to get there, it's its people."

He hums, his chest vibrating at the sound.

"You helped me realize that, Jinx and Talis contributed too. But by that time it was too late, the cogs of my defeat had started turning."

"It never is. Trust me." You huff out a small laugh through your nose. "I grew up under Keradon as a glorified murderer, i was so hopeless I didn't realise my power over him until I was twenty three. That was late too, but it wasn't too late, it was just unfortunate that it took me so long to get to it."

Your hand slowly inches to his head, raking fingers through his hair as his good eye widens yet the tension in his face releases, his lips slightly open to let out a soft breath.

"That day at the river, the young revolutionary died to leave space for the weary and powerful Eye of Zaun, to protect himself from hurt. And when Jinx shot you, that man died aswell. What's left to figure is who do you want to be this time Silco?"

He takes a long time to think, the lights of Piltover now brighter in the dark of night as the faraway neons of Zaun lit up the coast, just enough for you to see the ground.

"I wish to be a wiser man, yet as Piltover becomes more overzealous than ever in putting Zaun beneath the earth I cannot bear the thought of stopping the fight I started so many years ago." His right hand grabs yours which rested on top of his shoulders. "I wish to fight the good fight and help my people, but not alone. I suppose I'd like to ask my friend if she'd be willing to let me fight by her side so she can keep me in check. She's already helped me healing in the past half year I've met her, she's stubborn and honest, and most important of all she's loyal, to her people and even to me.

I wish to fight for Zaun again, with her by my side so I can heal and make the right choices, because it seems like no matter how convoluted the path can be, with her by my side I'll be able to achieve this if she'll have me."

His left arm wraps around your shoulder, his voice so much more gentle than what you're used to. It was as soft and loving as it had been with Jinx, yet hesitant, almost youthful in its careful wording. His eyes seemed so unguarded, so vulnerable and desperate and his lips were open, showing the bottom of two chipped upper teeth.

At that moment Silco looked so young. Pleading as if your friendship and presence in his life were his lifeline. And while he might have believed you to not feel the same, you did.

"Well, she has been lonely for a long time, that friend. Fighting on her own all her life even when she surrounded herself with good people, because no one would know her as deeply as you did. All she wanted was someone by her side, and you've offered her just that." You sigh, laying your head in the crook of his neck. "Of course I'll have you by my side Silco. I've wanted to be your friend since I ran back home with your body in my arms. Although I would've let you go anytime you wished if you asked me to."

"I'm glad I didn't."

And you were too, you were glad that he stayed. Was the thought you had in the precious, peaceful silence stretching between you two before he got up, his hand outstretched to you. You took it as he helped you get up, still holding yours as he led you into the cold water, taking your other hand and placing them both on his shoulders.

"SIlco?"

"Let me be reborn as a new man, once and for all." He asks, his eyes pleading you before his words did. "Please?"

He looked so peaceful that you couldn't hold it in you to refuse, smiling as you gained an idea, bending down as you pushed his shoulders as both of you dipped underwater.

He was right, it was peaceful, and his warmth and proximity fought of the frigid cold of the chemical filled waters or the River Pilt. As you came back out, the cool night air now feeling warm, he opened his good eye while his eyebrows raised.

"Gone is the lonely girl I once was, fighting on her own against the world and her own demons although all the odds were against her. If you were going to free yourself of the past, so was I, my friend." You squeeze his shoulders, bringing him in a tight and warm embrace. And although it took him some time, he embraced you aswell, his face almost nuzzling against your neck.

"You've been strong, it's time to share the burden Silco."

"You can share yours with me too." He mumbled against your shoulder, his thumbs rubbing back and forth from where his arms were wrapped around you.

"Something else we can share is the bed, I won't take no for an answer."

He chuckles, the vibration of his chest on yours making your stomach flutter at the first untamed laugh he shared with you.

"I wouldn't mind that, I'm not quite as young as I used to be. And I've already gotten a decade of being bent over a desk slaving away at paperwork and sleeping on the office couch because I would refuse to sleep full nights."

You laugh and the both of you separate, making your way back to the shore, then starting to walk back home, Silco already putting his eyepatch back on.

"How old even are you?" Escapes your mouth before you can eyen think, the question you've asked yourself months ago resurfacing as you made your way home.

He chuckles again, louder this time. "Fourty four."

"Damn!" He laughs again. "I'm sorry." You whisper and clear your throat. "Well....you look good for mid-fourties."

"Don't lie."

"I'm not! The scars are very rugged"

"Don't pull my leg."

"The salt and pepper's nice, real mature!" You nudge him with your elbow and wiggle your eyebrows and he chortles, bringing forth your own snorts and giggles.

"Sure."

"Your hair looks good too, I definitely can see you looking good with it longer."

"I had it long in my youth." He says as the both of you climb the stairs to your appartment, unlocking the door for the both of you.

You stop and grab him by the shoulders. Closing the door with your heel.

"To where?"

He lines his hand slightly below his shoulders. "There, approximately."

"Damn!"

"Is it that surprising?"

"No, no, I can see it, your hair's been growing and it looks nice on you. Younger. It's wavy too now that you don't pull at it all the time, I can only imagine what young you looked like. Long black hair, aquiline nose, two teal eyes, slim but strong, pretty voice..."

"It was mostly in a bun to keep it out of my face in the mines."

"Damn!"

He leans his hips on the kitchen table as he chuckles, bracing himself with an arm, eyebrows lifted and mouth curled in a smile as he shook his head.

"What? You were hot!"

"Was? Am I past my prime then?"

"Hell no, you're like a good whiskey, you get better with age." You blurt out again.

"Then you do find me attractive now." Your eyes widen before you rush to the bathroom as his laugh continues.

"Fuck off Silco!"

prev || m.list || next

Taglist: @vicurious28@midromiell@zorosleftmantit101@anthy-j-ander@agathasslutt@onyxistired@ren-ren23@hurts-my-brain

Happy new year everyone!

#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane x female reader #silco #arcane silco #silco arcane #silco x reader #silco x you #league of legends #silco league of legends #fluff #silco fluff #whatcouldhavebeen #fix it #soft silco #fix it au #fix it fic

84 notes · View notes