#asui

Fumikage was an avid reader and writer, everyone who bothered to ask surface level questions (“so, what do you like to do?”) knew that. Anyone who dug a little deeper also knew about his deep hatred for clichés and linear tropes. He never dared to pick up a romance book. They were riddled with, or even based on clichés, he always said.

“This book is dreadful,” he criticized one day in the common room, shutting the cover to hide the offensive words inside. “What publisher dared to put these words to many a paper? It’s full of banal stereotypes and follows these beyond tired tropes to a tittle.”

Tsuyu raised an eyebrow. “Tired tropes?” she poked, lowering her phone to her lap. He nods, opening his beak to continue hating when she interrupts. “Have you looked around?” 

“What lies under your words?” he pressed back, figuring he should find some offense in her remark.

“Well,” she began, shifting to sit criss-cross on the cushion, “look at-“

You bursted through the front doors in a whirlwind of volume and emotion, finding your way immediately to Fumikage’s side. Ashido, Sero, Kaminari, Jiro, and Kirishima trailed in behind you, chattering just as exuberantly. An agitated blond is the caboose, yelling about something or another. Ah, yes. The infamous “Bakusquad,” as they’ve been dubbed. You fit right in, really.

Fumikage couldn’t say he was extremely fond of them, with the exception of you of course. He often stuck to his corner, but if he were to be put in a group, it’d likely be Izuku’s crew. He shook his head.

You perched on the armrest of the couch, slinging an arm around his neck and tugging him in. “Fumi,” you cooed, “what’s up!” Your tail flicked slowly behind you.

Fumikage placed his book beside him. He quietly patted your arm, taking your hand in his. “Hello.” Once you were gone, his gaze was redirected to Tsuyu, whose face portrays a feeling that’s less than indifferent. He resumed, “You were saying?”

“They’re your trope partner.”

He bristled at her blunt words. “Trope partner? Please explain further,” he requested, but hoped she would flounder.

“Fumikage,” Tsuyu started, “you are a trope, ribbit.”

He shook his head, unwilling to believe such nonsense. He knew Tsuyu is less likely than most to mess with him, but he pushes down any part of him that could see truth in her declaration. “I’m sorry, I simply cannot see that,” he denied vehemently and crossed his arms.

She rubbed her hands over her thighs, eventually straightening up and resting her head in her palm. “Seriously? Let me help you see, then.”

Fumikage chitters. “I assure you, that’s not necess-“

“How long have you been friends?” Tsuyu questioned, fixing the uncharacteristically stern look in her eyes right on the bird across from her.

He struggled to see why such a thing was important. Fumikage found himself stammering, tripping over his thoughts as his brain chugged a million miles an hour. “A very long time. Since childhood, I believe. Why? What does that prove?”

She smiled innocently, making Fumikage believe the intuitive expression she donned moments prior was only his imagination. “Childhood friend trope; y’know, super common in the books you hate?”

He rolled his eyes mentally. “Yes, we’re childhood friends, so what? Many are. You spoke like we were dripping in threadbare fiction,” he attempted to debunk her theory.

“Then, friends to lovers. A broader version of the same one.“

“You can’t cite the same reason as-“ Fumikage was interrupted again.

Izuku is muttering to himself as he comes into view, scribbling furiously into his notebook.

“Midoriya,” Tsuyu called, making him jump and slam the pages shut. “Sorry to scare you. I need your help.”

Izuku’s always been eager to provide help, especially to those who aren’t quick to ask. He took a seat beside Fumikage, leaning his elbows on his knees to listen. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing serious,” she soothed, “but can you break down differences between Tsukoyomi and Chatième?”

His eyes lit up. “Well, by dismantling their quirks to their most basic concepts, there is a predator/prey dynamic: cat and bird. The way they utilize their quirks-“

“Does their personality impact that?” She interjects. Fumikage wasn’t aware Tsuyu was so stupidly cunning.

“As a matter of fact, I believe it to be so! In their personal lives, Tsukoyomi and Chatième are different in every possible way! That saying, opposites attract, fits like a glove,” Izuku rambled happily. “I’d say that Tokoyami’s on the quieter side, while they’re really… not. There’s a certain aesthetic I don’t know the real name of that Chatième kind of embodies. I’d describe it as a genre of pink maximalism, or something of the sort. The Tsukoyomi brand as a whole is on the totally opposite side of that. Even how they spend their free time is different! Tokoyami indulges in the arts, they can’t stay away from sports, he’s part of our group, they’re part of Kacchan’s,—“

“Thank you, Midoriya,” he stopped the spiel, having heard enough.

The green-haired boy turned red, embarrassed by his lack of control over his own mouth. “Sorry about that… Hope that helped, Asui.”

She nodded gratefully, letting him continue on his way. The common room is silent once more.

“So. Opposites attract. School or work romance, depending on how you view it. Opposites attract. Childhood friends. Need I say more, ribbit?”

He rejected her offer with a quick, defeated wave of his hand. “No, thank you. I get the point.”

a/n

bello fumikage anon! i actually adore you so much, your kind words mean so much to me. in no way did i feel pressured or swindled! i’m very glad you’re impressed, hehe! ABSOLUTELY write that fic, even if it takes you five-ever. this one was born of four ideas and three different fics i started and lowkirk didn’t finish.

these are the ruins of works that paved the way for today’s slop. they’ll most likely come out eventually :3