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BkDk (Pro Hero!Katsuki x Teacher!Izuku) Angst Oneshot
Izuku felt the back of his throat dry up as his phone blinked on. A news notification of Kacchan - of Ground Explosion Murder God Dynamight. His heart pounded in his chest, eyes blurring over the words as they skidded over the brightness of the screen.
‘Pro Hero Dynamight just hit #15 in the polls!’
He had his notifications turned on every possible platform with anything to do with Kacchan. He was happy for Kacchan. So why did every buzz and ping and vibrate, one after another, feel like a stab in the chest? He stood still, jaw sour with pain. Katsuki had been #16 for almost a year. He was happy for Kacchan.
Izuku’s face scrunched sourly as he contorted it into a smile which seemed to be more like a wavering grimace. He was happy Kacchan got to live his dream life.
He was glad Kacchan wasn’t a ship being tugged down by the anchor Izuku was.
Izuku had long submerged - drowning and stuck in the sea bed; unable to rise again. He would never be able to pull his weight, swim back up, with no power in his body.
With no quirk.
He’d never be able to be a hero like Kacchan without a quirk. He’d never be able to fight for people by his friends’ sides - together and unified. He barely saw any of them anymore. It was like their disappearance left a hole in his heart. But barely seeing Katsuki was like half of him had been torn away from him.
Katsuki was everything, a hero with undisputable fame and power. Izuku was nothing. a quirkless stranger with nobody to help and no power to help with.
When we was trapped in that hospital bed, wrapped and tangled in wires, he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready to hear it. He would never be ready to hear it and even now the words bang about in the back of his head as a constant reminder that he’ll always be nothing.
Being told he was quirkless again was like his fingers always skimming an open palm but never being able to reach for or hold its warmth - held back by tangled and twisted cables of veins that were barely pumping him alive.
Something like that, that meant so much to Izuku - that decided his whole life; his whole fate and existence, would mean nothing to someone as amazing and precious as Katsuki. It was… insignificant to an incredible hero like him.
It felt hopeless - worthless. Living felt like air was only swirling into his lungs so he could slam a shovel into dirt and push.
Everything Izuku has worked so hard for. Getting the quirk, clearing a beach, training his body, strengthening himself, late nights training and early morning spars, watching his diet, pushing himself as hard as he possibly could, breaking his bones along with himself and striving to be a hero.
Everything he’s done. What was the point?
Everything that Izuku has ever wanted to be, all he ever wanted to accomplish was always a dream he could reach out to, but never hold as if it was his - always grazing his fingertips.
Whenever he’s sat at his stupid desk, finishing stupid reports about stupid villains that nobody would gives 2 fucks about, he sees it. He sees the framed photo of Izuku beside his laptop - smiling so bright and joyful that he can’t help but let a small smile play on his lips as he finishes up.
It’s a tough pill to swallow when he sees Izuku happily smiling and Ochako’s story every several months. Or whenever he decides to, for some unknown and peculiar reason, take a longer route to his destination and catches a glimpse through Izuku’s classroom window.
He always looks happy. He always looks fulfilled - like he’s found his purpose in life. Even without living the dream of being by Katsuki’s side as an equal.
Katsuki’s gut always convulsed between the grasp of knowing Izuku was perfectly content without him and never needed him anyway - thrown away like a dirty napkin. His jaw might have trembled slightly as he smiled at the framed image but he continued with his life either way.
He had to after all. He wouldn’t want to fall even further behind.
Izuku has already accomplished so much. He’s saved so many people and helped so many children learn of the hero world.
Izuku is so determined and dedicated…. and Katsuki is just slowly going mad; being strangled by paperwork, crammed between the four white walls of his agency’s top floor and the view peeking from the top of his laptop. The view of a clean desk with a nameplate and a few all might figures neatly placed on it.
Katsuki can’t help but sigh every time he looks at his ranking. He’s been purposely trying to hold himself back, but with the extravagant amount of hours he’s working to be able to afford Izuku’s suit, he’s climbing the ranks anyway. He absolutely refuses to hit the top ten or anywhere close to Number 1 if Izuku isn’t on the same level as him.
Katsuki knows for certain Izuku doesn’t know about the shithole he lives in - a kitchen and a bed with a shitty excuse of a tiny shower and toilet. He even has to wash his hands in the goddamn kitchen… or is the bedroom? Whatever.
Katsuki knows Izuku doesn’t know that he sleeps 5 hours a day and spends the rest of it working. Katsuki knows Izuku doesn’t know he doesn’t get time to cook and barely spends ¥2000 a day on unhealthy, convenience store food that’s bad for his body.
Katsuki knows Izuku doesn’t know about all the times he passes out from being overworked and the couple of times he threw childish fits for being hospitalized when he could be working.
He knows he doesn’t know.
He knows that he doesn’t think about the day he died. Not as much as Katsuki at least. For Katsuki, that day was like the world shifting into place - an eclipse with the cogs turning and the sound of a lock clicking open in his head. Everything made so much sense.
To add to the pile of things he’s never told Izuku - when he woke up after dying, when he woke up knowing the last thoughts he’d ever think, in the last moments he’d ever breathe, were spent thinking of Izuku, his life’s purpose made sense.
He’d always thought it was being a hero. He’d always thought it was winning. He’d always thought it was being Number 1.
And then he realized what he was without Izuku; how empty and lonely it would feel to be a second without him - to forever have to part with him and never see him again. He realized his life’s purpose was being at Izuku’s side, or even better yet - chasing after his heels until the day they die.
The day they die together.
Post- Magic reveal Merthur angst oneshot (as “We hug now” by Sydney Rose)
The smell of mold and dust chokes up the back of his throat, strewn over the floor of a musty, wooden shack he discovered while aimlessly walking in the middle of nowhere. Only 4 days ago, he had pushed the boat into the lake, watching it drift away as his mind was now.
His eyes burned with fiery tears, the tracks engraving into his skin with molten magic - the loss never to be forgotten, embedded into his cheeks. Merlin hiccuped for breaths whenever the full feeling in his nose returned. Oh how he prayed for Arthur’s return.
Even though his bleeding body had been returned to Avalon after being struck, Merlin somewhat knew he’d done good - even without lifting the ban on magic. Merlin knew he was a good king - having achieved and done much more than his predecessors ever did for the people of Camelot.
He had a feeling Arthur did what he could and he knew he would return when Albion’s need was greatest. At least he got the life he wanted as King, portrayed as a savior and a strong ruler - a glorious battle leading to his demise.
He lived a magnificent life.
At least Arthur was frozen in time rather than being stuck on an earth that would keep turning whether Merlin moves on or not. He knew the world would go on without him. Without him.
How could he ever be part of an existence without Arthur? What would be the point in living? What would his purpose be? How could he have failed? What was there left to do? He was a nobody with no political power.
Why couldn’t they have taken Merlin instead? Arthur would be able to accomplish much more than Merlin ever could in the time he’d have to wait for his other half’s return. But it wasn’t like that.
He was stuck here - without hope, without meaning and without Arthur.
Merlin revealing his magic was insignificant compared to Arthur’s death. If he had done it much sooner, yes - there was the risk of dying, but it was a risk he should’ve taken rather than left so late.
Merlin wasn’t sure if Arthur would have ordered his execution on the spot if hadn’t been in such a vulnerable position. He wasn’t sure if he would have burst out in a fit of rage and attacked him.
But he knew Arthur had been heart broken - the trust between them was a taut thread with a blade pressed against it. Nothing could ever compare to the feeling of relief when Arthur talked to him again - when Arthur let Merlin care for him again.
“Why are you doing this?” he said, voice slurring and thick with emotion. “Why are you still acting like a servant?”
But he had never been acting. Arthur was everything to him. He would move planets and destroy galaxies to see Arthur safe, or happy. He was born to serve Arthur and he’d stand by that until the world falls to nothing.
When he threw up the words “I have magic.”, hoarsely whispering “I only use it for you, Arthur.”, he feared for his life. He knew Arthur was weak and vulnerable and would have to rely on Merlin if he wanted to survive. But he knew if his King ordered his execution he’d comply.
All the years of living in fear - spent watching sorcerers fight for their families and die. All the years he lived in Camelot - spent chasing after destiny. All the years he stood by Arthur’s side - spent protecting him. It all felt worthless. His life and its purpose felt meaningless.
Uther had ordered Gaius’s execution after Gaius had been a trusted member in the council for decades. After Gaius had publicly turned against his own kind to stand by Uther’s side. Would Arthur do that to him even after showing and proving he had the utmost loyalty toward him?
Merlin knew for a fact that his fear of losing Arthur and being unable to serve him by his side overpowered the notion of dying.
Arthur was glad his last moments were spent with his best friend - a man he cares for and loves. He was glad it was by his side that his life left his body. He was glad he didn’t have to die alone.
He somewhat knew Merlin had never trusted him. He knew Merlin didn’t love him the way Arthur loved him because if he did why would he never tell Arthur about his magic. Did he really think Arthur would kill him? After all they’ve been through together?
Arthur understood Merlin did what he had to. He understood Merlin was the only person there was for him. He understood Merlin would never want to hate or hurt him. He understood magic was a part of Merlin that would never leave him and he’d accept him as he was.
Merlin was a good man. He’d done so much for Arthur and there was no way he could ever repay him - not now as the last words lingered in his last breath.
“Thank you.”
There was a small guilty feeling swirling in the back of his throat. Maybe Merlin was even happy that Arthur had died; there was no King to persecute him. That would be everything he wanted, right? To be free.
Merlin was out there living while Arthur’s carcass had been left to rot on a brittle boat in the middle of a cursed lake. He would get to do things. He would get to see his family and his friends and Arthur would be stuck here - trapped in the visceral bounds of time; choking him.
Arthur’s death must have meant nothing to Merlin. He was a powerful warlock - the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth and Arthur just felt like some lousy king who accomplished nothing. He saved nobody.
He had blindly followed along his father’s ruling and assisted in the persecution of so many all of his life - carpet cleaning an entire community and race of people. It was only in his last days that he realised just how wrong he was.
Arthur was really the useless one between the duo - between the two men who couldn’t be more opposite. This moment must be so insignificant to Merlin who would live forever. There was definitely more important battles he fought and more important people in his life.
People more important that he cared more for than Arthur. Arthur’s death was a blip of his life that he would forget as if it never happened.
He had felt the life being torn out of his lungs as death scraped its claws down his throat, piercing his last words in its sharp nails.
Everything he was meant nothing.
None of his life mattered because he had never been the king he should have been - a king who helped and freed people. He didn’t even get to help Merlin. And now he’d never be able to see him again, never be able to beg for forgiveness again, never be able to thank him again - never be able to voice how much he loves him.
He wasn’t sure if his world ended when blood stopped circulating around his body or when he stopped feeling Merlin by his side.