#in short shes somehow worse than her father. but even more pathetic too .. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

missyasf · 3 years

Text

Game Of Hearts

| 1 |

↳ Summary: Your life is in monotonous tones of grey, day in, day out. Nothing matters besides your sister, the only thing you remember is seeing fireworks before waking up to Tokyo abandoned . Soon enough you are properly introduced to the deadly Borderlands where you must fight for your life in Games to survive. When things can’t possibly get worse soon division arises and rivalries are made. No matter what though, you are constantly plagued by a blonde who, no matter how hard you try, just can’t seem to go too far without.

↳ Pairing: Chishiya/Reader

↳ Genre: Angst, smut, thriller

Word Count: 11k

___| Next

Trigger Warning: ⚠️ much like the manga/Netflix adaptation this will be a dark fic which includes mentions of prostitution, attempted murder, child ab*se, sexual harassment, heavy grief and attempted suic*de among other things. Additional warnings will be added for chapters when triggers are brought up. Please read with caution if these are triggers for you or just skip all together!

Side mention: This could be considered a prequel to the current Alice In Borderland. I’m writing based off the Manga bc I was a glutton and couldn’t wait no spoilers will be present as of...

Escapism

noun

the tendency to seek distraction and relief from unpleasant realities, especially by seeking entertainment or engaging in fantasy ♡

You had known all about this during your short lifespan, as a child you’d often play pretend with your sister that you were movie stars living in a five star hotel rather than the shitty busted up apartment on the wrong side of town. Escapism came in, many forms. It was often a way for people to cope psychologically, simply because sometimes, facing the reality of your situation can be too much for one person to handle mentally.

Or at least, that was the topic of your lecture today in class. The human mind always fascinated you. Even at the young tender age when your mom died and you watched your once cozy little family fall apart piece by piece until nothing was left in its wake.

It was your fascination that drove you now for most things, why? Why, why, why? You always wondered what the motive was behind someone’s actions, not only thing but you wanted to understand them better, to try and sympathize. You were already fairly intuitive in nature. It wasn’t difficult to read people. In fact your line of work made it easy, you’d watch a man who would be excited to be with you reach for his left finger as if used to touching something. A wedding band perhaps?

The lowlife cheater was fairly common in a whore house after all. Or the man who had been pissy this morning behind you in line because you had decided to try something new on the menu and you weren’t fast enough, obviously because he was tardy and woke up late, his shirt unbeknownst to him was button the wrong way and his tie loose and even the way his hair fell were all signs of being late to work.

It was the little things you noticed in people’s facial expressions, the way they moved and spoke. You could read people like a book, and sure sometimes it was useful. But you often wished you weren’t so perceptive. It drove you mad knowing when a potential love interest was no longer interested through a simple text or a friend not wanting to talk by their tone. Sometimes you wished you could just blot it all out, still, you lived like this day in and day out, you were used to this kind of thing and honestly. Friends? Love? Your gaze dropped a little to your feet, the pumps you were wearing a jet black and the heel too high for any respectable woman to ever wear.

...It wasn’t like you ever had any of those in your life and you had struggled to come to terms with the fact that you could survive without that kind of support. Still...it made you envious, the couple happily holding hands on the sidewalk. The group of friends all laughing at a table while they studied. Oftentimes these feelings are muted, but when you’re faced with something you’ve always craved, those muted feelings suddenly become hyperactive in your mind.

It’s pathetic, honestly.

“How dare you! You disgusting slut!”

In this moment however, you were brought back to reality at just what was happening, you squeaked loudly as you dodged the shoe the woman had thrown at you. This was all a regular occurrence, you had a lot of regulars who weren’t the most amazing people but hey, money was money. But along with them they also left a trail which their wives and girlfriends always followed. And then they always blamed you instead of their partner for leaving them for a prostitute despite you never having agreed to anything such as that.

It really wasn’t your fault, you were just trying to make a living while juggling with keeping up your own education, paying your fathers debts, rent and still somehow getting food on the table. What part time college job could provide that?

Prostitution wasn’t a job you would’ve gone into willingly but given the past and your trauma that was already laced in it you had been learning that sometimes because of the trauma we experience, sometimes people go back to that same trauma and actively participate in it as a way of feeling like they’re in control.

That whatever happened before, would never happen again if you were in control. You weren’t sure if you qualified under this category, trauma came in many forms but the one most used as an example in your class was that a study showed that women who were assaulted often develop a kink for consensual non consent as a way of coping with what happened, except this time, it’s in a controlled environment where it can end the moment they want it too.

Again, you weren’t sure you fell into this category, but you often wondered if your line of work was intertwined with your earlier memories when you were younger, if anything it brought comfort to you. Much of it, blotted out now simply because your mind couldn’t take it. Trauma expressed through amnesia was also much more common than many thought, and it’s so small, so easy to miss. After all how can you be aware of something if you have no memory of it anymore?

“Security!” Your manager screeched, two of the bodyguards were already between you and the feral woman who was ready to gut you clean as she screamed hysterically, her husband...your regular....at her side trying to get her to calm down only for her to come to her senses and slap him clean across the face. You didn’t condone violence, but he did have it coming...

You weren’t about to justify cheaters, you couldn’t imagine the hurt someone had to feel that not only did their partner cheat on them, but it was with someone...like you...You had been trying not to put down your job occupation, sex workers were just as valid as anyone else...you knew you would’ve thought this way if it was anyone but you in this position.

You sighed as you ran your hands through your hair, watching the couple get dragged out of the tight space of the brothel, “Jesus christ....didn’t you say you stopped using perfume because of this?” Miki, your manager sighed as she crossed her arms. You didn’t want to say your manager was your friend but she was the closest you had as you’d often complain to her about most of your problems. Sex work often attracted broken people, it wasn’t something she wasn’t used to.

“Yeah, but apparently he never got around to washing his clothes…” You wiped your mouth on the back of your hand, “Lipstick stain,” You glanced down at the ruby pink color that stained your skin now, “Fuck...that did hurt.” You rubbed your sore cheek that was still throbbing from where she had first slapped it when she ripped the door open of the room where she got to see with her own eyes you riding her husband.

It had happened so many times now you weren’t even embarrassed about someone walking in let alone a partner. Miki gave you a lopsided smile as she patted your shoulder, “Guess that just pays for being one of the best here. Did you at least get paid.”

You nodded, “Yeah, I always make them pay in advanced but I was hoping to get a tip afterwards...He was a lawyer so you know he had good money.” You sighed, crossing your arms, you were well aware of his partner because a lot of the time he didn’t even come in for sex anymore. It was funny how humans work.

He often felt his wife was overbearing and you had suspected some sort of verbal abuse by the way he talked about her constant screaming. Truthfully, you don’t think he ever intended on cheating with her. He just wanted someone to talk to without being judged, you could relate with sympathy to that, but he unfortunately chose to walk into a brothel instead of a therapy clinic and this truly was the only inevitable outcome. Still, you hope if for anyone’s sake, he gets that divorce for himself.

“Hey I think I’m gonna call it a day. I need to get back to Nanami, she was wanting to talk to me about college applications.” You sighed as you rubbed your neck, ever since she had graduated high school she had been chomping at the bit to start applying for college, maybe to just get out of the house and into a dorm. You couldn’t blame her and if she did that it would lighten your load a little.

Guilt washed over you at the thought as Miki chuckled, “They grow up pretty fast huh? My brother was the same way, except the moment he found out I was a sex worker was the moment he called me a whore and we haven’t talked since. That was probably about five years ago,” She crossed her arms as she sighed, “Crazy how the things we do for the ones we love, never appreciate our effort...I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“If I’m not bruising.” You offered a weak smile as you nodded at her before going back to your room to get changed. Truthfully, you much like anyone else, often wished you could go to a world where reality wasn’t a concept any longer. Where you could lay out in the sun for the whole day and just soak up it’s rays with no worries or trepidations.

But sooner then later everyone had to face their fears. Even you, you supposed. But no matter how hard you fought your demons, they always came back tenfold. Again, you supposed your story was no different from tens of thousands, and yet you all live on regardless. Maybe it’s you who should be the one seeking therapy. Pulling on your jeans and the cropped top over your head before pulling the jacket over your arms and grabbing your bag.

The walk home was as quiet as ever, your hood over your head and earbuds any unwanted attention, it wasn’t too late at night, only eleven PM and your work had just been getting started but that had ruined the night for you and besides, you had already failed a test today, you could use the sleep tonight.

Occasionally you’d hear the sirens of a cop car passing by or a bystander shout, nothing out of the ordinary in this neighborhood. Walking up to the apartment complex you pulled the key from your bag as you unlocked the door. Quietly stepping insides as you shut the door before locking it once more. Your nose wrinkled at the smell of stale air mixed with rotten...something…

If anything, you were always lacking in something, you had been so busy most of the day that you never had time to clean anything leaving the house in a horrible state. Not that you thought this was much of a house.

Walking down the narrow hallway you opened the rickety door with a missing lock as you gave a brief smile to the small clump of bedsheets. Your sister was curled up and on her phone, eyes darting to the door with a hint of fear before she jumped up, “Y/n! You’re home earlier from night shift already!?”

You offered a smile as you set down your bag and nodded, sitting down on the mattress that laid on the floor as you replied, “Yeah, a coworker needed the extra hours so I let them cover for me tonight. Besides, you wanted to talk about college applications?” Your sister was under the impression your late night job was bartending at some hole in the wall downtown, where in all actuality you just went there to drink a few days and talk to the loud and sometimes obnoxious, but good hearted bartender who loved talking about his nerdy underaged friends that couldn’t do anything beside stay and drink soda.

It wasn’t that you didn’t think your sister would accept you, if she knew what you were actually doing. Fear, most times came in many different forms and this was one of them. You simply didn’t want to be judged, even by her. So nobody in your life truly knew who you were, and therefore, how could you hold the expectation for people to accept you into society if you were already self sabotaging yourself?

All philosophy aside, you were simply a lost soul, looking for your way in the cruel reality called life.

“Yes!” Nanami was chipper as always as she squealed, clapping her hands, “I…! I was thinking about applying to the university you attend! Maybe I'll get a grant and move into the dorms there? I already applied for several jobs, I’m just waiting on a callback!”

You offered a small smile as you hugged your knees to your chest, “I think you’d like it there, there’s lots to do around campus. But what will you go in for? The only advice I can offer is be sure it’s what you want to do.”

Nanami’s face faltered a little as she hummed, “Well...I thought maybe working with animals? I’d love to be an assistant surgeon in veterinarian? I know it’s a pretty...sad job but...I really like the idea of being able to heal such innocent things.” Your smile tugged into a gentle one at your sister. She was too tender for this world.

It had been your goal sense the day your mother died that you took care of your sister, it didn’t matter what happened to you. You could rot for all you cared at the end of the day, all you wanted was to look up and see your sister's smile and her happiness in life blossom. She more than anyone deserved it.

“I think you’ll be great at it.” You encouraged as you rested your chin on your hand, always happy to see her bounce in excitement as you yawned, your body was used to your demanding schedule but it was always more than happy to welcome a few extra hours of sleep.”

Hearing the door loudly slam close caused you both to jump, Nanami hurriedly crawled back in bed, pretending to be asleep as you frowned. Your dad must’ve come back home from wherever he was.

“Y/n! Just stay here! Can’t you talk to him later?” Nanami looked scared, she always did when he was around. But you weren’t about to stand down to the bastard any day of the week, you offered a weak smile as you replied.

“It’s fine Nami, I’ll be just a few minutes.” You replied, you knew that she knew, that was probably a lie. But you’d try your best, for her sake at least. But somebody had to put this guy in his place occasionally and it was always you. It results in a lot of screaming sometimes, other times he’d break down in tears or on a bad occasion you’d get shoved to the ground, a few times hit. Nothing major.

Walking out of the room you leaned against the wall of the entrance of the hallway watching your father stumble around in the living room, “Did you finally talk to the loan company?” You called out as you asked, not in a forgiving mood tonight. He had said he’d do this for two weeks in a row. The company that sank your whole family into the ground. The reason your mother couldn’t take it anymore and put a blade to her wrist.

Your father stood up, looking a little wobbly, obviously drunk, “Now listen here little girl I don’t have shit to own to you or anyone else.” You sighed as you tucked your tongue into your cheek, annoyance flowing inside you as you straightened up. You weren’t going to be bullied into being scared of this guy.

“Actually you do,” Your smile twisted into something more sharp, more bitter and sinister as you walked forward, “See, if you hadn’t of gotten involved in something shady like loan sharks we wouldn’t be drowning in debt and mom wouldn’t have killed herself because of you and both your daughters wouldn’t hate you. I know you drink away all our money in some pathetic attempt to escape from the cold reality that you fucked up your whole life and watched your family slip from your fingers while not even trying to do anything other then put us in further shit,” You closed your eyes as you tilted your head, “But the least you could do, is admit that. You owe us at least that for being a total fuck up.”

You opened your eyes to find pure rage brewing in your fathers eyes as you smiled once more, this time a false sense of sickly sweet tone to it as you shrugged, “Or you could live in denial, at this point, there really isn’t anything you can do to get anyone back ♡ ”

You had turned around, planning to tell Nanami that maybe she should go sleep over at a friends house today but you never got the chance, suddenly being slammed into the wall and flecks of spit hitting your face, “I am your fucking father! I deserve respect from you and your worthless sister! Do you know how much I provide for you both?”

Anger splintered through your veins as you grabbed onto his wrists, his fingers digging into your neck as you squirmed, “Like fucking what!? A shitty broken down apartment that your vacant from because you’re too fucking ashamed of yourself to even look at us sober!?”

Much like years in the past you weren’t surprised to hear Nanami cry as she rushed out of the room at the sound of you both screaming, “Stop!” She cried out, trying to break you both up, “Stop! Don’t fight! Why…! Why can’t we all just get along!” She sobbed only for your dad to shove her down making her curl up in defeat.

Alarm bells were triggered in your head at the sight of Nanami on the ground, she had never actually gotten hurt while in your sight and it was triggering something deep inside you as you watched him stalk up to her. Your hands shaking and rage boiling in your mind as you grabbed the closet thing you could find. An empty beer bottle on the table.

Your vision blurred and you don’t quite remember what happened other than glass shattering over his head and the brute force of you shoving something before blood was stained on your hands.

How did you end up sitting against the wall? Why was there….blood on your hands…? Your fingers trembled at the metallic sticky substance. All you could hear were Nanami’s sobs and cries as she frantically pushed herself away from the body slumped on the ground.

“You…! He…!” Nanami’s eyes brimmed with tears as you heard a loud boom making you jump, your eyes darting to the open window where….fireworks, big and bold crashed and crackled before you felt like you were sucked into a vortex making your whole vision black out.

Your head felt fuzzy and there was ringing in your ears as you groaned, curling up into yourself as the darkness beckoned you closer before you forcibly opened your eyes. You were laying against the hardwood floor. Beams of light streaked through the window and you could see dust particles in the air against the shower of sunshine that streamed in.

...Wait...Light? The thought had perplexed your head enough to make you push up from the ground, memories pulling into your mind as your breath became shallow, suddenly looking to the side where...you slumped against the wall. It must’ve just been a bad dream….your eyes flickered to Nanami’s curled up figure...a really vivid dream…? Something wrenched in your gut as you rubbed your eyes. What happened? “Nami…!” You whispered, forcing your muscles to move despite their protest as she whined.

After another moment she reluctantly opened her eyes, flickering around before she suddenly scrambled up, taking a deep breath as if realizing what had happened before, looking towards where your dad once was she frowned, “...I...What…” She seemed just as perplexed as you and if her face was anything to go by, last night had obviously happened, “Is dad…” She looked at the absent place of the floor.

Leaning against the wall your eyes darted around the room, “I guess so…” You silently felt relief at knowing your dad was still very much alive as you leaned back as you closed your eyes, trying to remember what had happened before everything went dark...oh..! The fireworks...had it been a celebration last night? Your brows pinched together, something felt...off...getting up you opened the door to the apartment walking out.

“Y/n? Y/n! Hey! Where are you going!” Nanami called out, quickly chasing after you as you frowned, cars were parked odd and there was no one out on the street...as in...at all...Something was very wrong and you couldn’t figure out what.

“Wow...it..must be a slow day…” Nanami felt a sense of discomfort at the lack of life as you both walked down the side walk, it didn’t just feel like a slow day it felt, apocalyptic. As if humanity just left on it’s own leaving nothing but an empty city behind. Cars were parked on the curb and a few even left in the street.

“No, it’s like everyone vanished...This is really weird.” You wrapped your arms around yourself as you frowned, looking around as you came closer to where typically it would be a booming part of the downtown but it was empty, just as everything before.

“Well, maybe it’s a national holiday?” Nanami rubbed her head, trying to make sense of the situation just as much as you, surely everyone wasn’t...gone...right? She looked around as she bit her lip, second guessing herself at all the cars that were vacant, “Hey Y/n.”

You paused as you looked at your sister, curving an eyebrow as she offered a weak smile, “What if everyone got raptured away like they talk about in christanity?” Your expression flattened as she giggled, obviously getting a rise out of you as you crossed your arms.

Raptured? Where? To heaven? “Wouldn’t it be fire and brimstone then if that was the case?” Nanami pouted at your words as you shrugged, snickering yourself at her expression, the tables now turned as you sighed, “I don’t think there’s anyone left in Tokyo...I mean, it feels like...we’d have seen someone by now...right?”

“Well…” Nanami frowned once more, a little disturbed at your words as she spoke, “There’s no way everyone could be gone I mean, where would they go? And how could we miss something like that...Maybe the police found us and now we’re under some weird simulation.”

Chills spilled down your spine as you shoved her making her whine, “Don’t say that! That makes me feel all weird…! I didn’t…!” You cut yourself off, you didn’t what? Murder your own dad in cold blood...you looked down at your hands, they were free of any blood but it still felt like something like sin lingered. Like no matter where you went, it would always be stuck to you.

You didn’t like this, not one bit. Briefly you felt the urge to go hunt down your dad, he was a deadbeat but you would never...you’d never kill him....Right?

“Well…” Nanami hummed her eyes scanning ahead before they jumped to the mall that was up ahead, “Hey…! If nobody is here...maybe we could make use of it! Come on! Let's go!” You yelped at her grabbing your arm before dragging you ahead. Cars were all parked and yet not a single person exited through the mall's entrance. Something just felt off! You wrapped your arms around yourself as you warily looked around the empty mall, “Nanami I really don’t like this!” You looked around, concern bubbling inside you as she ran ahead into the store, digging through the section of clothes as she giggled.

“Relax! I doubt any of this is real and even so…! Who’s going to stop us!?” She shrugged as she bounced in excitement, “Oh my god! I had dreamed of something like this happening! Now we can do whatever we want! Go wherever we want! Y/n!” She gasped with a smile, “Now we don’t even have to worry about money!”

“We don’t even know if this is permanent.” You looked around warily, not partaking as she began plucking off the racks, “Regardless of what this is, I don’t like it. I want to go back home, our home. This just doesn’t…” You shook your head, “This just doesn’t feel right.”

“Well you can feel that way!” Nanami clacked her tongue as she gave a childish smile, “But I’m gonna go through this whole store and get a new wardrobe so feel free to sit on the bench and tell me what you think looks good!”

Looking away you sighed, unable to pinch the anxious feeling you had away as you sat down reluctantly as Nanami went into the changing room. Well...at least she was smiling and she was happy...With each outfit Nanami tried out and giggled, you giggled with her and maybe things weren’t so bad after all…

“What a perfect day.” Nanami hugged you close as she sighed, yawning as you looked up at the sky in awe, you had seen a single star while living in Tokyo before, but now it was filled with constellations and millions of stars that stretched for miles. You could stare at it for days and days. The sun had just set a little over half an hour ago and you were ready to retire and find something to eat at the apartment.

You and Nanami had tried going to the food court but much to your dismay everything had been...rotten...soiled and ruined, meaning there was no point in trying to find anything there and you were getting really hungry despite devouring bags of chips you had both got at the convenient store, another thing that stood out to you was that there was no electricity...at all..

Looking back up to the sidewalk something caught your eyes...was that…! Light!? “Hey! Nanami look!” You shook her making her squeak as she looked up ahead, “It’s the hospital! They have electricity there which means there’s other people! Of course! Why didn’t we think to check essential areas!? Come on! Lets go! I wanna figure out what happened.”

“Alright! It sucks that this is already over but at least I can finally charge my phone, the battery is pretty low.” Nanami nodded in agreement as you both made your way up the road.

The walk wasn’t too far and you felt excitement fill you at the sight of the hospital all lit up as you walked into the entrance, a frown slowly setting on your lips once more as you walked past the receptionist desk and…! Oh there’s other people!

You felt relief wash over your as you ran up, there were at least seven other other people here at least! “Hey! Guys oh my god. I thought everyone was gone! What’s going on?” You asked, smiling bright in relief that you and Nanami weren’t the only ones left behind. Was this some kind of evac point or…?

Silence ensued and you slowly began to frown as you felt everyone stare at you as if you were insane, “Um…” You wrapped a hand around your arm, suddenly feeling as if everyone knew something you didn’t, “What’s going on…?” You furrowed your brows as you tilted your head, unsure of why everyone was looking at you like this.

Somebody looked like they were going to talk to you, a guy relatively around your age but a woman stopped him- his girlfriend maybe? “Stop, the less that know the better chance we have.” She said quietly though you still heard just enough. Fear twisted inside you as you took a cautious step back...The...the less you knew?

“Wow, you guys are assholes,” A girl suddenly whistled out, she was sitting in a waiting chair, a cowboy hat on her head paired with distressed jeans and...a bikini top? Strange but you’d roll with it if it meant getting answers. She stood up as she offered a smile, “Akari, nice to meet ya’. You folk must be new to the Borderlands huh?” She jutted her bottom lip a little as you frowned.

“Um I’m Y/n and this is my sister Nanami...?” You introduced yourself despite feeling confused as you raised a brow, “Borderlands…?” You echoed, what was that supposed to be? Other than Tokyo?

Akari gave a nod as she let out a brief chuckle, as if amused by your confusion but you sensed she had no real ill will unlike....your eyes checked to the couple that stood off in the corner on their own, “That’s what they call it here,” She nodded in affirmation as your eyes darted back to her in confusion, “To be frank with ya’, I don’t have a damn clue what's going on. Nobody does. But ever since you crossed the threshold there’s no going back, so I’ll be brief. We’re all considered outsiders here and we participate in games at venues such as this to extend our stay.”

Nanami and you looked at one another confused as Akari waved you over to the table in front of a TV, “Here, you’ll wanna put these on, it’s for the game.” She explained as you carefully picked up the metal bracelet, something about it felt ominous as you reluctantly put it on, jumping at the way it latched together and there was no getting it off now, “Word of advice, just don’t panic and you probably won’t die.”

“What?!” You screeched as Akari smacked your back, panic evident in your voice as you turned around to face her making her laugh again, this girl was insane! She had to be! “You’re…! You’re joking!”

Akari wrinkled her nose as she tilted her head, “Ah shit, I wish I was- Oh…! There’s the last player!” Just on que everyone turned to look at who had arrived, someone heaving breaths with their hands on their knees as if they had sprinted. You were mildly worried at why he seemed so scared but you had a feeling that was the least of your problems right now.

“Y/n what’s going on…?” Nanami frightened grabbed your arm as she hid a little behind you due to all these immensing strangers that looked like they were ready to feed you to the sharks, literally.

The guy walked past you both as he put on his bracelet, your eyes sharp as you watched it latch together automatically, your gaze jumping to everyone's wrists to notice you were all now wearing one. The TV suddenly lit up.

Game

You squinted your eyes a little at the sight of the screen, just what were you about to unwillingly participate in…?

Difficulty: 5♣

“The game you will be participating in is, Monster under the bed.”

A playing card? Monster under the bed? Your brows furrowed as you looked at Nanami who shrugged a little despite her concerned expression, looking just as confused as you. You could’ve made a joke out of this, surely it would’ve been easier. Maybe everyone would bust out laughing and you’d be at the end of a poor joke but...somehow you felt that wasn’t the case. Thus paying very close attention to whatever was on this screen,

“Everyone will be sectioned off into pairs by the number chosen on your bracelet, when the doors to the ward open you will have three rounds ten minutes each to figure out who is the monster under the bed that must be returned to its own, once the ten minutes is up you must hide before you are found. If the selected pair that is the monster is chosen correctly it’s a Game Clear. If the monster is not found by the end of the third round or if the pair fails to hide it’s a Game Over.”

Rules:

Once the doors are open you and your partner must find a hiding spot by the time limit

Both partners must be hidden. If one is exposed to the monster it’s a Game Over for both partners

There will be an X marked on the ground to place the monster of your guess onto.

You will have three rounds of ten minutes each to find the monster.

Any attempt to remove bracelets results in a Game Over

If the monster is not found by the third round a Game Over.

The only Game Clear condition required is for the monster to be returned by the third round.

What…

What!?

“Now the game will commence, you have five minutes to figure out who you have been paired up with before the doors open.”

Your mind was blanking as you watched everyone look down at their bracelet, hurriedly you lifted your arm as your mind blanked 2 looking back at Nanami her lips were already quivering as she sniffled lifting her arm in defeat as your lips dropped open, 5.

“Hey! Guess you’re my partner!” Akari grinned as she wrapped an arm around Nanami who sniffled, “Oh…” She looked between you both, “Oh! Oh don’t worry! We’re not the monster so I’ll make sure your sister lives! You should go find your partner.”

Your hands trembled unsure of what to do before you went to hug Nanami, “Whatever happens just stay calm okay! I need to go find my partner now!” You whispered, kissing her cheek as she sniffled while nodding.

Everybody was shuffling around looking for their partner now, you passed by a few people, 4, 1, 3...did you even have a partner…? You scanned around, your throat tightening a little in panic, there had to be a mistake! There were only 8 people surrounding you- you yelped at the tight grip that suddenly held your arm forcing you to turn around to be met with a white hooded figure, a lollipop handle hanging and earbuds in before sighing, “So it appears I’m stuck with someone useless.” The man concluded as he stood up making you back away a little as your lips parted somewhat indignantly.

How...how rude! You looked up, unable to fully make out his face but you could tell you didn’t like him one bit, “I’ll…! First of all I’m not useless! I’m just trying to understand what's going on! This is insane! We aren’t actually going to die from this, are we!?” Pushing his hood down you were immediately met with a snide gaze and cat eyes that leered at you like you were nothing more then dirt beneath his feet, long blonde hair pushed behind his shoulders and his bangs hanging low, suddenly a viscous side smile appeared on his lips, “Apparently so, otherwise I wouldn’t have watched half my last game get their brains blown out and the other half hung.”

You reeled a little away from the blonde, your face dropped in semi horror, unsure if this was just a sick joke or he was serious. You searched his face a thousand times over, but for the first time in your life, you couldn’t figure out what his goal was. You couldn’t figure out anything about him, except he was exceptionally cold, “Well I don’t suppose I have much choice to doubt you,” He said with an annoying sing song tone as he rattled his wrist that showed the bracelet with a matching 2 on it, “My name is Chishiya, just stay out of my way and we’ll both live.”

How arrogant! You scoffed as he walked past you, not the least bit bothered at your offense as you whipped around, glaring at his back. How come out of everyone you got stuck with the most…! Pompous! Arrogant! Ugh! You crossed your arms as you followed behind him, stilling secretly sending daggers into his back with your eyes as everyone shuffled into the ward.

Hospital beds were scattered around the room, a few closets and one large vent at the bottom right corner of the room ahead.

“Wait, what is this?” The first person to speak was a fair thin older gentleman, he appeared friendly as he observed the room around him, everyone looked around in confusion as you noticed what he meant.

Any possible hiding spot was covered by either sheets of metal or locked tight...How were any of you supposed to hide if…!? The rules mentioned nothing about solving puzzles to gain access to a hiding spot!

“Forget that,” Another man said with a sneer he was broad and a bit older, well into his late twenties at least, perhaps a gym coach? Or maybe a wrestler of some sort? He looked like he could break you and nearly every other person in this room like a twig, “We need to figure out who’s the monster. “ He cracked his knuckles as you leered a little away and nobody spoke for a second.

Of course, who would out themselves as the monster, more importantly, how does one even know they’re the monster? You could immediately feel tension rise as the previous, more patient man spoke, a little more collected, “How about we just check one another's’ watches! If anywhere it would show us on that! One pair should work on solving these puzzles here so everyone has a place to hide”

“Unless the monster is among us and it sabotages us so we all die by the time limit.” The girlfriend crossed her arms as she darted her eyes around. Truthfully you didn’t know what to believe, the wording on the soundbox was rather confusing as to just what were you looking for. Was the monster supposed to be in the group or it’s own entity?

“If that were the case it would’ve showed up on our watches, which it didn’t. So that won’t work.” Chishiya spoke matter of fact, his tone cool as his eyes gazed across the room before he walked away from the group inspecting various hiding spots granted you didn’t think he was about to help anyone but himself, if anything you were at least lucky that him securing a hiding spot meant it was one for you as well.

You looked at everyone in confusion, some arguing while others scattered to look for a hiding spot as the clock ticked down. You breathed in relief at the sight of Nanami and Akari both going for a bed to hide under. Your gaze finally found Chishiya’s form before following him, unsure of what you were supposed to do, if anything outside trying to figure out just what the monster even was.

You glanced up at the digital clock that stood above the entrance you had just come in from, it was already a minute in before you searched the floor where you found a red X in the center of the room, that must’ve been the...what? Offering spot? You cringed a little at the idea. Looking forward you peered behind Chishiya’s shoulder deciding to not think about that, it seemed the metal sheet that had wrapped around the bed and was sealed to the ground was locked by some sort of metal device…? Contraption? Lock?

“Isn’t hiding under a bed a bit obvious…?” You frowned as you crossed your arms, unsure as you looked behind your shoulder once more to where accusations were already being thrown in the group.

“The vent is a decoy to make you waste time, I already checked,” Chishiya replied, his fingers nimble as they rattled the metal, “And even if someone were to accomplish it in the time limit it’s the most obvious spot the monster would first check. Next would be the closet given it’s at eye level and the first thing one is drawn too when they walk into a room.”

Your lips parted a little in surprise at his assessment...obviously he wasn’t just overconfident, “And why this spot?” If he had really thought about all this in less than a minute then...did he have a reason for this spot? You now found yourself, slightly less annoyed and a little more curious as to what was going on in his mind.

“If the monster were to check a bed it would be after his eyes are drawn to the closet. Next in that line of sight would be the vent directly across it, which would be his next place to look if not his first and vice versa. The beds are all staggered throughout the room making them less conspicuous compared to the other hiding places, the bed on the far end of the room would be no good.”

Your brows furrowed in curiosity at his assessment as you watched Chishiya blow a piece of hair from his face, wiggling out one piece of the knotted metal, “It’s too far from the entrance where as the one in the middle is by average the one most people would start with, where as the first? It’s almost too soon in the start to look there thus making it the safest.”

“It’s them! They’re over there conspiring!” You both twisted around to watch the broad man point an accusing finger at you both as your eyes darted from him to the clock on the wall, which read at six minutes. A few other pairs, relievingly so was your sister had started working on a hiding spot while a few others stood around and argued.

Your face coiled a little as you replied, not appreciating the accusation to such a baseless accusation, did they not realize the longer they argued the less time they had to secure a hiding spot? “Someone who’s terrible at playing the minority would often be the first to point fingers. There’s only six minutes left before the first round is over and we need to hide. But if you want to talk about this then sure,”

You stepped closer as you crossed your arms, scanning over him before continuing, “Let’s talk about the chances of you being the monster, ever since you first came in you’ve been all twitchy and acting like something is wrong. Even when we first got paired up, you seemed a little panicked. Anyways,” You turned around as you spoke, “How do we know one pair is a monster and not one single person?”

“Eh,” Akari sat on the bed that her and Nanami chose as Nanami fumbled to work out the puzzle, she had always been good at those! You felt assured as your heart beat frantically at the idea of them not being able to get a hiding spot in time, “Let’s all calm down,” She gave an awkward laugh, “This isn’t a hearts game, we shouldn’t divide our trust. This is a team building after all which means this game should be making us work together, the last thing we need to do is throw that away on our own accord.”

“...Team building?” You frowned as you murmured having not been aware that this was some sort of game category...Hearts? Clubs? The memory of the playing card flashing on the screen appeared in your mind again, right...was that to stand for some kind of game genre? If Clubs stood for team building then...there should be no reason that the monster is any of you. Why would they even suggest that to begin with?

Then...what was the monster?

“One minute remaining.”

The lights suddenly began flickering, “Got it.” Chishiya yanked the last piece of metal undone as he pulled the sheet of metal off, everyone was now scrambling and the few who had not done their puzzle were now panicking. Getting down you crawled under the bed, your back flat to the ground as you inhaled sharply as you noticed the lights beginning to dim, “This is...uncomfortable.” You mumbled, trying to ignore being pressed shoulder to shoulder with a man you didn’t even know besides him having a god complex, “We should’ve went with the vent.”

“By all means, if you want to try and get yourself killed already. Go for it.” You turned to look at him, dark endless cat eyes meeting you as you harshly glared at him, why was he so condescending!?

You were about to snap back something before you realized it was completely dark and the door slammed open causing you to jump. Was your heart always this loud? You could see the heavy boots step against the ground making you unsteadily inhale, swallowing as you closed your eyes. You could only place your trust that Chishiya hadn’t picked a horrible spot.

More importantly your mind was plagued with worry for your sister, you had been so caught up you hadn’t even tried to help her yet...did she even…! You heard a sudden loud scream from two people causing you to stiffen as you looked up at the bed frame lined with wooden planks. You could only cower back down at blood suddenly painting the floor.

Your stomach suddenly churned as you covered your mouth. So he wasn’t lying. Chishiya however looked just as nonpulsed as he did when he first told you himself, his eyes blankly staring up at the bed frame as if this was just a regular game of hide and seek as people screamed as they were torn apart.

Or that’s at least what you assumed it was.

After an agonizing few minutes the doors finally closed and the lights flickered back on making you breath in relief as you waited a moment, could you even bear to face what was waiting on the floor? You winced a little before something caught your eye. What was with all this extra wood stuck in the frame?

Chishiya had already gotten out from under the bed and before you suddenly heard a few girls scream, your sister among them making you puff and breath as you scrambled from beneath the bed.

Standing up your mouth agape at the horrid sight of the female and the broad male that had been too focused on accusing others, they didn’t have...enough time...it looked like they had been completely mutilated, blood pouring on the floor and the smell made you want to gag as you looked away.

“Well, now what do we do.” Akari scratched her head, also not looking phased that two people had just been brutally killed. Your eyes stayed placed on the bodies before they slowly trailed to your hands, the memory of blood staining them still fresh in your mind.

“Well we have to figure out where the monster is?” The girlfriend of the couple spoke up, she looked around somewhat suspiciously, “But I’m not sure where we could find it? Maybe it has to do with the bracelets? Maybe there’s a clue hidden.”

“Oh what about in the cabinets?” The collected man from before offered as he went to search the cabinets, your frown furthered as you glanced around. Everyone was now getting along, still on edge but along at least.

Chishiya only leaned against the wall, his hands in his pocket as he rolled the lollipop in his mouth, his gaze the same steely one it was before as if he had done his job in securing his temporary salvation and was now done.

Or maybe he just didn’t know what to do? It was obvious his strength didn’t lie in teamwork, clearly. But then again, you weren’t sure what was going on, you couldn’t get a read on him. Crossing your arms you stayed beside him, your eyes briefly washing over your sister who was working Akari to dig through a desk together.

“Cabinets and drawers are too obvious.”

Chishiya’s eyes flickered to your figure, his expression just as cold if not...a little smug maybe? He said nothing in return as you continued, “If we’re looking for a monster, it’s obvious it’s a metaphor for something. Inanimate most likely,” Your eyes flickered around the room, inhaling sharply, why did it feel like the answer was right in front of you?

Think…! You glanced at the clock, only six minutes left. The rounds were really short…! “It’d be something small and inconspicuous, something that’s in plain sight….but easy to miss...and the game said it was a pair which means there’s more than likely two.”

“Three,” You glanced at Chishiya as he spoke, pulling the lollipop from his mouth, that permanent smug look on his face as he answered, “Two is what they want you to think and if you spend a round searching for each like they hope it’s game over by three.”

You rubbed your neck as you frowned, “It’s already the second round and we haven’t even found one…” You glanced around before you suddenly perked up, “Wait…!” Getting back down on the floor you laid on your back as you pushed yourself under the bed, “Chishiya! Help me get this thing out!”

Within a moment the blonde appeared as well, his eye sharp and keen as they noticed straight away what you were tugging at, “You think this is the monster?”

You looked at him as you raised a brow, “We have less than four minutes left on our second round, you have a better idea?” Chishiya said no more but helped regardless, successfully with the both of you maneuvering it around from beneath the wooden boards you managed to get it out.

Holding it up you looked at it, “It’s a poppet doll.” You turned to face him as you smiled in accomplishment, “They’re typically used as curses to place upon people in folklore. If anything is a monster, this would be it.”

Excited at your first victory you pulled out from beneath the bed as you waved it up, “Hey guys! We need to start looking for something similar to this! If not a replica.” Everyone huddled around you examining the doll before the microphone sounded, “One minute remaining.”

Everyone had immediately scrambled back to their hiding place as you ran to the red X, placing the poppet on it, that's the reason that had to be there right!? You’d just have to see, hurriedly you ran back to your spot under the bed. Making it just in time as the lights flickered off.

The door slamming open once more as you slowly inhaled, it had to work right? If not...then you were at a loss for what to search for and you were utterly screwed.

The boots stomped against the floor past the bed as you closed your eyes, unable to calm yourself. After a moment you heard a screech and something rip open before screams followed making you jump. Chishiya’s eyes were on the feet that stood by the closet that had been obviously ripped open.

You heard the sound of something wet and a gurgle before a body slumped to the floor and you could hear begging before something got snapped in half causing you to close your eyes once more...Did you make it angry!? Was that not it? Fuck. You had never felt this stressed before as it roamed around, passing in front of your bed as you tensed.

Was this your last moment alive? Truly?

Much to your relief, the door closed once more before the lights followed, flickering on, relaxing a little you sighed as you reluctantly got out from underneath the bed with Chishiya to see what had happened. Much to your horror it was the man who had been so kind this whole game and his partner.

The monster didn’t check anywhere in the first round, yet he did this round? You tried to block out the bodies slumped in the corner as you glanced at the red X, the poppet doll gone.

“Why- why were they killed!” Nanami’s eyes began to water as she grabbed her head, “This makes no sense!”

“If it accepts the doll that means we only need two more. What happened to them is irrelevant.” Chishiya stuffed his hands back into his pocket as you glared at him sideways, not appreciating his careless tone. You could deal with it, but you didn’t want your sister dragged into it.

Grabbing your chin you thought about it for a moment, “Well...the game said to return the monster to its own and…” You glance down at the X, was there some kind of unsaid rule that if you didn’t get all three of them on the first try that it would start hunting down players? “How would a mother feel if they only returned one of its children?”

“This thing doesn’t have feelings,” The girlfriend of the partners replied coldly, her eyes like steel of her own as she clung to her boyfriend, “It’s as he said,” She waved to Chishiya, “It doesn’t matter, we’ll be like them if we don’t figure this out.”

You glanced around the room, “Tell me this, if it doesn’t matter, then why did they give us all these different hiding spots?” Everyone was silent, all eyes on you as if your question didn’t make any sense, your eyes flickered to the clock that was nearing eight minutes, you didn’t have time to monologue, “No think about it. The monster never intended to look for us- that was never stated in the rules. So why did they give us all of these choices if we only needed one per pair? My point being, if we found one poppet in our hiding spot then...You get where I’m going with this? Chishiya.”

He glanced up at you acknowledgement as you curved a brow, your lips threatening to tug into a smile as you tilted your head, “How confident are you in solving that vent?”

He glanced back down and for the first time, you watch a cocky wide smirk twist onto his lips, “You’re lucky to have someone as smart as me here to be able to open it.” You tucked your tongue into your cheek as in annoyance as he sauntered over to the vent already getting to work, “As for everyone else, we need to open up as many of these as possible to find the other two.”

Everyone immediately scrambled to get to work, with only seven minutes on the clock this was...going to be difficult. First Nanami and Akari searched all the opened spots as you worked on another bed. Rubbing your head as muttered, “Shit...I never was good with puzzles.” You awkwardly hung your head in defeat temporarily, briefly letting your eyes shift to Chishiya who was fiddling with several locks, his gaze sharp and you couldn’t even imagine all the calculations going on in his mind. You were somewhat envious of what it would be like to be that perceptive to anything adhering to logic and solution.

“Aha! Found one!” Akari yanked the poppet from the top of the closest as Nanami covered her mouth, looking like she was gonna throw up being so close to so many dead bodies. You ignored the grisly sight at the second victory of the poppet doll. Akari quickly placed it on the X as you began to work on the puzzle once more, looking up at the clock. Oh no...Oh no there was only three minutes left!

“Chishiya! Hows that puzzle coming along.” You called out, trying not to sound alarmed but you could see the clear cut annoyance on his face as he continued working through the locks, “If you’d like to help while struggling on a novice lock feel free.” He replied condescendingly, not appreciating the pressure.

You rolled your eyes with huff as you finally managed to get it undone, feeling triumphant as you searched under the bed but there was no luck, “There’s nothing here!”

“Or here!”

Several people called out as well as you rubbed your head, standing up, “If the only other place that hasn’t been searched is the vent then maybe there’s only two? It did say a pair.” You felt a lump of anxiety well in your chest at the sight of the clock ticking close to a minute and half.

“Should we really take the risk?” The boyfriend asked as he rubbed his neck, concern on his face as he looked around, “If we’re wrong then we’ll all…”

You hadn’t even thought of that…

“...! Hey.” You turned to Chishiya who seemed to be trying to get your attention making you immediately come over, if he was asking for you it’d have to be for something important given there was nearly less then two minute on the clock, “Hold this right here.” He immediately pushed your hand onto the lock right where he wanted it, “This is a two handle mechanism meaning that there needs to be two people unlocking it. Push down and out at the same time.”

“Hide! Everyone needs to hide now!”

The lights were beginning to flicker as everyone scrambled to hide, stress evidently put on your shoulders now more than ever. You could only hope he was right with your life on the line, “Now!” You pushed down on your side, the lock sliding as you pulled out, pulling a piece of metal holding up the lock directly out as Chishiya did the same with his side.

The lock fell off as well as the metal of the gate of the vent, you immediately with no hesitation leaned inside it was dark and hard to make it out anything besides the steep drop off. So he was right, this was a waste of time for a hiding place.

Looking down you caught sight of wood before laughing in relief, “It’s here! Wait shit! Chishiya! It’s too far down in the vent, you’re gonna have to lower me down to reach it. Time?”

“Forty five seconds.” You felt unfamiliar hands on your hips lifting you up as you were lowered down, “We have time.”

You squinted trying to see as you reached down, “Lower me further! I’m not quite in reach,” Your muscles began to ache in your shoulder as you reached harder, growling in frustration, “Time!?” You were lowered a little further, the wooden poppet brushing against your fingers.

“Thirty seconds! Could you go a little faster?”

“Could you lower me a little quicker- Ah! Hey did you almost let go!?” You snarled back, grabbing the poppet doll, giving a good yank as it lodged in between the crevice it was in, “Get me back up! I got it. Time!”

“Twenty seconds.” Chishiya called back, pulling you up as you gasped, pain from the metal jabbing into your stomach evident as you were met with a darkening room. Setting your feet firmly on the floor your eyes flew to the flock fifteen seconds and your spot was all the way across the room….!

“Where are we supposed to hide!? We can’t get all the way there in time!” You hissed out running to the X as you dropped the poppet down. The lights shut off as the final five seconds counted down and before you could do anything you were shoved to the floor as you squeaked. Your body throbbing in pain and your mouth immediately covered as you were met with the coverage of a bed but neither one of you were bold enough to try and scramble beneath it as the doors slammed open.

Fuck.

Your whole body was tense as your eyes squeezed shut, you were just a little ahead of the X here, if this is all the poppet dolls...they’d have no reason to go further into the room...unless...Your hand squeezed tight around the wrist of the hand that covered your mouth as you tried to calm yourself at the loud thudded footsteps.

It was quiet for a moment before you heard more walking before the doors closed.

“Game Cleared”

The lights turned on as you fell limp against the side of the bed, Chishiya’s hand removed from mouth as you pushed your hair from your face, closing your eyes as you breathed in relief, “Holy shit.” Was all you could mutter to yourself, you had never been more grateful to breathe air in your whole life.

“I guess you weren’t that useless after all huh.” Chishiya clacked his tongue as you turned your head to look at him, raising your brows as your face contorted into something between insult and amusement.

You’ve only known this man for a half an hour and yet...something about his words, if you dug down deep past that smug expression of his, was this a compliment? Looking away you pressed your tongue into your cheek, trying to keep from smiling, “Yeah, and you’re still conceited and arrogant but, I guess you have a good reason to be.” You glanced back at him again but you could hardly hold his gaze, something in that brief moment was electrified between you both as you laughed somewhat sheepishly, closing your eyes as you looked away once more.

What the fuck was even wrong with you? If this was back before today you would’ve totally kicked this guy in the balls and went about your day.

“Y/n!” You straightened up at the sound of Nanami’s voice, your expression brightening as you stood up, quickly running to her as you hugged her tight, “I can’t believe that just happened…” She whispered to you as she pressed her face into your neck. You couldn’t either but, you were thankful you had survived this game. Whatever it was.

“Come on, let's get out of this room.” You tugged on her arm, no longer wanting to be in this death room despite knowing it was all over. Pulling her out you paused at the sight of the TV and a...register…? You bracelet unlocked as you took it off, tossing it on the table as you tilted your head.

“Congratulations Game ''Clear ``.''

“...Now issuing visas to those who survived the game…?” You furrowed your brows as you glanced at Nanami who rubbed her head in confusion. You grabbed the receipt as you looked it over with a frown before picking up the 5 of clubs playing card along with it. Odd.

“It’s how many days you’re allowed to stay now! Almost a whole week, that's a good score for a first game!” Akari called out as she patted your back making you jump a little.

Almost a whole week…”Until we have to play again to...continue our stay?” You raised a brow, deciding not to ask what happens if you refused. While you had many questions, you had a feeling you knew the answer to that one.

A part of you couldn’t even believe this had happened, or was it all still a dream.

“Hey…! Sorry for all of that in there,” You turned to see...oh…! It was the boyfriend of the partner, the gifrlfriend stayed behind looking brooding, “I’m Ryu and that’s my girlfriend Hiroko I was...ah…” He faltered a little, rubbing the back of his neck as his gaze flittered to his girlfriend who was glaring him down, “You should stop by the Beach- I...I think you guys would make good additions! Bye!” He hurried not even finishing his original sentence before scurrying off making you furrow your brows at what he even meant.

“The hell?” Akari raised a brow as she watched the guy run off, “Seems to me he wanted to chat more…guess we know who's really pulling balls in that relationship.”

Nanami suddenly snickered, covering her mouth as she giggled, “Hey Akari! Why don’t we stay together! We did really well in the game together!”

“Awh shit, if you guys really want me too!” Akari offered a quirky smile as you laughed, you had no problems with someone staying behind with you. Looking past Akari your smile faded a little at the sight of a white hoodie exiting the entrance.

“Hey- I’ll be right back!” You pushed past the both of them who paid you no mind as you pushed out of the exit and down the stone steps, not sure why your feet were making you chase after such an egotistical man but…!

“Chishiya!” You called out, making the man pause, he turned around, pulling the earbuds out as he glanced up from his hoodie, raising his brows in acknowledgement, “Um…” Why did you even chase after him…? You stepped down the last step as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

It was silent for a moment as you berated yourself internally for why you seemed so speechless all of a sudden. Chishiya however didn’t seem to mind, his eyes absent now as he stared up at the hospital, “I used to do my clinical rotations here.”

You were broken out of your silent thrashing of internal humiliation as you raised your brows, lips parting in curiosity as you asked, “You were a doctor?”

“No,” Chishiya snorted, that amused calico look of his on his face once more as he looked down at you, “I was a medical student. Training to be a doctor but that obviously didn’t happen…” His lips curved into a frown, his eyes cold once more as they looked back up at the building, “I came here tonight to see if anyone I knew would be here.”

“Oh…” You looked away, feeling somewhat awkward and unsure of how to reply to him as silence took over once more beside the occasional rustling of the wind in the tree’s, the urge to speak overtaking you to the point you couldn't resist, “Chishiya...I…” You looked away, feeling somewhat bashful, “We...made a really good team back there.” You forced yourself to look up at him as you offered a bright yet subtly shy smile, “If you want...you could stay with us…?”

Chishiya pulled the lollipop stick from his mouth, letting it drop to the ground as he spoke, “No thanks.” You turned to him in surprise as you frowned a little, you shouldn’t have expected anything less…

“Oh...I understand.” You offered a weak smile as he turned his back on you and began to walk once more, “I just have one more question,” You called out causing him to pause, “...Do you by any chance know about a place called the Beach?”

Note: Whew...! As a lurker in the Alice in borderland fandom I saw a lot of people complaining about the lack of Chishiya fics so I decided to volunteer myself and take on for the team to write a series for this little blonde fucker so PLEASE let me know your thoughts and I hope you enjoy!! Also

#alice in borderland #aib #alice in borderland imagine #alice in borderland x reader #chishiya x reader #chishiya x reader smut #shuntaro chishiya #shuntaro chishiya x reader #aib imagine #aib x reader

727 notes · View notes

dontcallmecarrie · 3 years

Text

No Hero [And Not Made Of Stone]

...I’ve got nothing. Not even sure where the idea came from, but as per usual, the moment my brain had an idea it immediately took it by both hands and ran with it so here you go. Name for this AU might change, but for now here have another song lyric [from Five Finger Death Punch’s “Wrong Side of Heaven”]

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Warnings: mild profanity, dysfunctional families, a metric buttload of gender and identity issues, because the protagonist is a possibly agender character [their stance on gender can be summed up as “huh, those parts are new. Weird. Moving on”]. Not exactly Tony-friendly at times, but not for the reasons you’d think.

To sum up: haven’t done a SI-OC fic before, let’s see how it goes. Under the cut, because RIP mobile users otherwise.

Justin Hammer’s name wasn’t always Justin Hammer.

He doesn’t really remember what it was anymore, but he knows that much.

Honestly? This ‘memories of another world’ thing was more a pain in the ass than anything else, at least at first.

It might’ve been cool if they remembered something useful— concrete dates, specific innovations, hell, even any tips of what stocks to invest in— but no, they had to get short end of the stick with weird dreams, identity crises, and a longing for a family they’d never had.

Oh, and another round of puberty, because of why the hell not. Like last time hadn’t been enough of a pain in the ass.

Ugh. They wanted a refund.

...okay, so it probably could’ve been worse.

Justin has vague recollections of going to sleep hungry, of huddling with their younger sibling under blankets because their parents couldn’t pay the electrical bill— so really, in the great scheme of things, being born as part of the 1% this round was. Something.

Trippy as hell, is what it was, honestly.

This family was loaded, and under other circumstances, they might’ve even been able to enjoy it— if, y’know, they hadn’t had the incredibly shitty luck of being born two years before Tony Stark.

“Look at what he’s doing, that could be you” this, “study hard, he’s going to be your rival” that— geez, if any other kid had been in Justin’s shoes, he would not have envied them.

If he didn’t already have a firmly established sense of self, it would have been a mindfuck of a childhood because for some reason, his father kept comparing them? And yeah, Justin could kinda see some of the parallels— they were about the same age, both firstborn sons and heirs to their parents’ respective companies— but that’s about where the similarities ended.

Look, Justin wasn’t a genius, okay? He was fairly bright for his age, but...he wasn’t a one-in-a-million prodigy. And, up until he was 6, that had been acceptable.

But then the press went wild because oh, look, Howard’s son built a circuit board at age four, and it all went downhill from there because suddenly, being normal wasn’t good enough. Not for his parents, anyway.

Sometimes, he wondered what would’ve happened if it had been another kid in his shoes— how they would’ve handled the small army of private tutors and the extra classes they kept being signed up for in the hopes of finding something they excelled in.

The pressure of constantly being compared to a once-in-a-generation prodigy, and always being found wanting.

Justin wasn’t afraid of hard work— but it was grating, even for him.

Really, just about the only silver lining to this ‘second life’ thing was his adorable little sister, Stephanie.

She, at least, looked up to him: her gap-toothed smile didn’t hold any expectations for anything other than the piggyback rides he regularly offered, and this time he didn’t even have to worry about medical bills, or—

Anyway.

His family and the Starks run in the same social circles, because of course they do.

Now that he’s getting older, Justin’s being dragged along to all of the fancy shindigs with his parents, and it’s only due to two lifetimes’ worth of self-control that keeps his polite smile from wavering when he’s introduced to the bane of his existence.

“Hi, my name’s Tony Stark.” The little brat said, and Justin bit back a sigh as he shook his hand.

...so, the Stark heir his father wanted to be his rival was a kid. Actually a kid, which just made this mess that much more pathetic because part of Justin had almost been starting to want to buy into this rivalry thing, but.

In this life, and the last one, they’d been an older sibling.

This time, despite everything, he could tell he was softer— he had never gone to bed hungry, never had to worry about the roof over his head, or being solely responsible for his younger sibling’s health and safety— but.

Old habits die hard.

Of course Justin’s father hears “the Starks are sending their seven-year-old heir to boarding school” and thinks “good idea, why didn’t I think of that?”

Of course.

Of fucking course.

Steph had cried when they’d packed their things, and for that alone, Justin would never forgive their parents.

The other brats at boarding school are more invested in the Hammer-Stark rivalry than they are.

...this was going to be a long 9 years, wasn’t it.

One of the perks to going to one of the most elite boarding schools in the world was the options. Certainly, Justin doubted other places offered skiing and fencing and over eleven languages in their electives.

Not that he was complaining: it was definitely a way to keep busy, certainly much better than the constant attempts at one-upmanship that came part and parcel with cramming the richest heirs, heiresses, and honest-to-goodness royalty in one place.

At the end of the day, though, they were all kids. Bratty, entitled little shits who were still at the stage where they constantly went “my father will hear about this!” and Justin had way better things to do with his time than engage in those petty little playground attempts at power plays.

So he dove into everything the school had to offer, bouncing from elective to elective like a ping pong ball, and trying not to think too hard as to why Spanish had come so easily to him, though he’d never studied it before— or why he’d felt a pang when the instructor had congratulated him on his accent.

Somewhere down the line, Justin...kinda made a name for himself? Apparently?

Ugh, they’d never understand these people.

Okay, so apparently he’d kinda become an older brother figure of sorts to the brats around here? Somehow? Even though he hadn’t exactly been planning on doing anything of the sort when he saw an underclassman struggling during practice, or stopped fights before they could start in the common room because he’d just sat down and didn’t have the patience to move all his stuff somewhere else to study.

Didn’t make sense to him, but apparently it was enough for some of the professors to write ‘good leadership skills’ on his transcripts, so whatever.

As a bonus, it made his old man happy. Not that Justin gave a damn about what he thought about him personally, but the increase in his ‘allowance’ [it was in the triple digits, like hell he was calling it that] was nice.

Among the hobbies Justin bounced between, there were a few that raised more eyebrows than others.

Knitting, for instance, was something some of the more annoying brats liked to laugh about. They eased up when they found out he sent the scarves and hats he made to his little sister, but... eh, whatever.

Sewing, too— apparently it was okay if it was framed as a Boy Scout-esque ‘know the basics so you can always be prepared!’ way, but the moment he did any sort of embroidery there went his respectability.

Well, at least nobody gave him a hard time about cooking. But then, his chilaquiles had some of these guys’ eyes watering just from the smell of it, so.

It still didn’t sit well with him sometimes— kinda like how puberty had Not Been Fun on a number on levels, but hey, if all else failed, he could just ignore it harder.

It hadn’t failed him yet.

Stephanie insisted on going to boarding school with him when she got to the age he’d been shipped off at.

It was...nice, having his little sister around again.

It was a good thing Justin had been okay with being designated the heir of Hammer Industries, because Steph was... exactly like he remembered her.

Cheerful, upbeat, startlingly devious and manipulative when she wanted to be, and just a tad bit spoiled.

...okay, so Justin had probably contributed a bit to that last one. In his defense, he’d been doing his best to shield his sister from the staggeringly high expectations he himself had to deal with, but look, he wanted at least one of them to have some semblance of a happy childhood, okay?

Goodness knew he hadn’t [not this time, nor the last].

Stephanie wasn’t interested in the family business, was more interested in pursuing a career in the arts.

Justin, of course, encouraged her wholeheartedly.

Their parents weren’t entirely happy about it, but...wasn’t like they had much to complain about. Not when Justin was always in the top ten of his year, not when the professors practically gushed over his responsibility and work ethic.

He was no Tony Stark, but he’d made a name for himself nonetheless.

“So, we’re supposed to be rivals?” The bane of his existence said once, at yet another gala. “Howard says so, anyway.”

“Seems that way,” Justin shrugged as they pilfered a flute from a nearby table, carefully not commenting on how he’d referred to his father by his first name. Talk about a strained relationship, right there.

“You’re not really acting like one.”

“Well,” Justin sipped at his flute before making a face when he discovered it was champagne and not apple cider like he’d hoped, “it’s nothing personal, just business. Healthy competition, y’know? Someone’s got to.”

Stark eyed him for a moment, before giving him a brilliant smile. “You know, I think I’d like that.”

Justin would never, ever understand these people.

In the time Justin Hammer got his degree in business, Tony Stark got several Ph.Ds.

Not that he envied him: the idea of being shoved into the limelight after losing his entire family? Hard pass.

For some reason, Tony Stark seemed to think they were friends.

Why.

Sure, Justin tried to be as cordial with him as he did with anyone else, but... how on Earth did that translate into being friends?

“You look at him like he’s a kid,” Steph says once, laughing, “you look at all of us that way, haven’t you noticed?”

“Well, to be fair—”

“You’re only a few years older than us, but you keep acting like you’re dad. More like a dad than our actual dad, sometimes,” her smile dropped for a moment, “don’t think I forgot that time he didn’t even call for your birthday.”

Justin made a face. “But what’s that got to do with anything?”

She sighed, then gave him a smile and a look he couldn’t decipher. “You’ll figure it out eventually.”

By the time Justin Hammer became the CEO of Hammer Industries, Tony Stark had held the same post in his company for over half a decade.

Yet...well, something weird was going on.

Maybe it was because Justin’d had more time to prepare for the cutthroat world that was the defense industry, but—

For some reason, he couldn’t help but think Tony was softer than he’d thought.

No-brainer contracts that would have been a cinch to broker, passed over simply because their distributors didn’t pass their incredibly high standards; buyers who wanted in, but whose past associations— very, very far in the past— meant SI didn’t even consider them.

Justin couldn’t understand it.

For someone in the industry, Stark’s morals were...unusual. Respectable, from one perspective, but remarkably naive from any self-respecting businessman who wanted to turn a profit.

He was fairly certain the only reason Stark Industries was considered number one in the sector was because of the constant influx of new designs; they just were turning down too many contracts for him to consider otherwise.

Sure, sometimes Hammer weapons found themselves in the wrong hands— much more often than Stark weapons, regrettably— but it was one of the hazards that came with the business. They’d both known it from the get-go; Stark weapons were considered the best for a reason, even though somewhere down the line, his company’d gotten a reputation for no-frills dependability and ruggedness to the point where unscrupulous individuals would do anything to get their hands on either. Wasn’t like there was anything they could do about it, not when money talked in ways laws didn’t.

Why Stark was so hung up over it, he just. Couldn’t wrap his head around.

Stark was proclaimed dead, and there was strong evidence to indicate the attackers had been using his guns.

...well, fuck.

“This is fine,” Justin muttered as his personal headache proceeded to come back from the dead only to say his company was going to stop doing the thing it was known for and making an ungodly mess in the stock market while at it, “it’s not like it affects me, anyway.”

Overnight, Hammer Industries became number one in the defense sector.

Justin was not a happy camper about the spotlight.

Even more so, when he had to take additional measures so his sister could continue enjoy the privacy she’d had after pursuing her dreams as an artist because the press didn’t want to leave well enough alone.

“You know, you could’ve given me a warning.” Justin scowled when he saw Tony at the next gala.

“You handled it well enough, didn’t you?”

Ugh.

His headache was back, and worst part was, the smile he got more than made up for it.

...and then I kinda ran out of steam.

tl;dr: MCU canon had Justin Hammer as a foil to Tony Stark, here their dynamic is more along the lines of Beethoven and Mozart [one really respecting the other’s genius, and working their butt off to get to that level of respectability and general acclaim].

in this AU, Stark Industries is kind of like Apple— very futuristic high-tech stuff, all the bells and whistles going on, etc, whereas Hammer Industries is the Nokia in this analogy: not fancy in the slightest but as close to indestructible as it gets.

#No Hero [And Not Made Of Stone]#No Hero [Downward Descending]#My writing #character study of sorts #fic idea #fic ideas #3 am musings #kinda #also #does it count if said 'fic idea' is over 2k long?

64 notes · View notes

theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 3 years

Note

ohh i saw your answer about the sequels of star wars. id love to read you tear through the whole trilogy

Well, I’ve avoided this ask long enough. Part of the reason is this is really a huge topic, far too much for one ask, so I’m going to have to do this at a very high level.

In short, the Star Wars Sequel Trilogy is what one gets when you slap together the goal of selling merchandise and making tons of money, being as risk averse as humanly possible, adding a handful of warring directors with incredibly different visions, and having virtually no imagination when it comes to the imagining and writing of characters.

And we get this beautiful, awful, franchise that for reasons beyond me people seem to actually like (though interestingly, no one seems to like all of it, they may actually like one or two of the films, but no one says all three are actually in any realm of good).

With that, let’s begin.

The Force Awakens

For me this is easily the most tolerable of the sequel trilogy: it’s not great, it’s not terrible. It’s thoroughly watchable, you can be taken along for the movie’s journey and not raise your eyebrows too much at the action and leave the theater feeling this maybe wasn’t a complete waste of your time.

There’s a good reason for that. That reason is called the most blatant form of plagiarism I have ever seen in cinema in my life.

“The Force Awakens” is just “A New Hope” wearing a mustache. Only, it’s one of those cheap mustaches you get from a party store that, if you stare at it too long, just looks like the most false and awful thing you’ve ever seen. The mustache actively makes it worse. “The Force Awakens” is “A New Hope”, but worse.

Seriously, every major character, every major plot point, every major scene I can go directly back to “A New Hope”.

Our story begins when the Resistance, at great cost to our valiant heroes including torture at the hands of the Emperor’s second in command, sends a file out into the wilderness to be received by his people. This file contains plans for the Death Star.

The film then focuses on Luke, er Rey, getting involved in the Resistance, boarding the Death Star, and successfully destroying at the same time even at the lost of a beloved mentor that she just met (trading in Obi-Wan for Han Solo).

Our evil empire is run by an evil emperor who is so evil he sits in a chair, is served by very Moth Tarkin-esque human storm troopers, and has a second in command who revels in the Darth Vader get up (for no other reason that it makes him feel cool but we’ll get into this).

It’s “A New Hope”. Rey is Luke, Han Solo is Obi-Wan, Poe is a kind of Han Solo, Kylo Ren is Vader, Snoke is Palpatine, Hux is Tarkin, BB-8 is R2-D2, etc.

“But that’s not terrible,” you say, “I liked A New Hope?”

First, it is terrible, it gives a very bad sign of where the sequel trilogy is headed and is just lazy writing. It means that those who produced this franchise were so terrified of taking risks, of possibly ending up mocked as the prequels were, that they will deliver exactly what the original trilogy was. And what’s that? Uh, evil empires, scrappy desert kids, AND MORE DEATH STARS!

That brings us to point number two, the world of Star Wars after the events of the original trilogy shouldn’t support such things. And, if it does, my god what a bleak existence this place has turned into.

The First Order being able to rise easily from the Empire’s remains means that Luke accomplished nothing. Anakin sacrificed himself and had his moment of redemption for nothing. There was no happy ending to the Original Trilogy, our heroes failed miserably, and there is no indication that our new band of heroes can possibly succeed in their place. (More on this as the movies progress).

We now are in a galaxy where this new Republic is so pathetic that Leia doesn’t even give it the time of day and builds her own private army to battle the Empire. The First Order is able to not only rebuild a massive army by raiding villages on many different worlds and stealing children and do so successfully for at least ten years but is able to build a Death Star bigger than any we’ve ever seen before.

And the movie tries to convince us these are completely new problems, that Luke Skywalker is a hero (remember this is TFA, not TLJ yet), and that somehow these things just sprung up out of nowhere. BUT YEAH, RESISTANCE, WOO!

As for Rey, she’s like... a worse version of Luke. Her only motivation through the entire series is her trauma at being abandoned by her parents. That’s it, there’s nothing else to her, nothing else she ever wants or feels conflicted by. She struggles with the dark side because... the dark side? Genetics? Unclear? She’s absurdly, ridiculously, powerful in a way that’s acknowledged but never that acknowledged (we’ll get into this) and the movies just fail to sell me on her in any way.

Honestly, an easy fix for me would have just been making Rey a much younger character. I could believe a fourteen-year-old having stayed in the desert, scrounging for scraps, believing her parents are coming back every day now. As a twenty-something year old... It starts getting hard to believe she never left. (Also, this gets the benefit of getting rid of Reylo, which is always a plus for me).

As for Kylo Ren, I legitimately walked out of TFA thinking he was supposed to be comic relief. He’s what happens when someone desperately wants a likable, redeemable, villain and we get... Well, as a reminder his opening scene is one of genocide: he pillages and destroys a town with no regret and brutally tortures a man for information. We’re told he’s like this “because evil evil Snoke” and that may well be but throughout the film (and the series) it becomes clear that Kylo Ren’s main motivation is he deseprately wants to be cool. He wants to be a badass like Vader, he dresses in Vader cosplay (either ignoring or not knowing that Vader only dressed like that because his body was completely destroyed), he has these huge temper tantrums and nobody respects him because he’s a toddler in a Vader suit.

He murders his own father, his parents who (at least in the films themselves) show every willingness to take him back and forgive him what he’s done, so that he can fully embrace his own “evilness”. In other words, he commits patricide to feel cool about himself, then it doesn’t work.

And the movie series really banks on me feeling conflicted about Kylo Ren or at least wanting him to be redeemed. Granted, the wider internet seems to love him, I just can’t.

Oh, before I forget, the other thing I love about Kylo Ren is that the movies insist he’s a) strong in the Force b) is equal to Rey. Rey consistently beats the shit out of him with 0 training. Kylo Ren has been training in the Force for years. Guys, they are not a Dyad, Rey is far far far stronger than he is and for whatever reason the films never want to admit it. Because I guess we like things coming in pairs now.

But yes, “The Force Awakens”, at a distance not great nor terrible, but a rip off of a movie we’ve already seen that left me going “Welp, the next one’s probably The Empire Strikes Back then I guess we’re getting Ewoks”. I was sort of right on that and sort of wrong.

The Last Jedi

So, JJ Abrams clearly had a vision of where he wanted this sequel trilogy to go. He set up these big questions such as what’s up with Finn, who are Rey’s parents and why was she left on this nowhere planet, will Kylo Ren be redeemed and how, who is Snoke, etc.

Now, I’m not saying these aren’t stupid questions. To be frank, they kind of are. Finn being Force Sensitive was the most inconsequential thing I’ve ever heard of, Rey’s parents should not have been used to drive the plot the way it was, as spoken above I’m clearly team gut Kylo Ren, and that Snoke was actually just Palpatine being the world’s largest cockroach is a beautiful but hilarious answer.

That said, what Johnson did was he decided, “You know what, I’m going to take every trope of Star Wars and completely flip it on its head and absolutely doom the sequel to this movie.”

And by god, he did.

We get a weirdly pointless movie in which Poe, SINGLEHANDEDLY, completely obliterates the Resistance. He first obliterates their bombers by failing to follow command, then goes and bitches about how he’s not put in command when he clearly shows no ability to understand how a military works, actively subverts orders which in turn obliterates the entire Resistance fleet until the only survivors can fit on the Millenium Falcon. They have no ships, no weapons, barely any people, and are ultimately doomed doomed doomed.

We have Finn’s weird subplot with a suddenly introduced character Rose in which the pair aid in Poe’s blowing up the resistance (they send sensitive information using the communication equipment of a guy they do not know, who fully admits to being shady and out for his own skin, and are flabergasted when he betrays them).

Rose herself is this weirdly sweet person who seems forced into the plot to a) provide a love triangle for Finn and Rey b) provide this forced sunny outlook that I didn’t really need in the film.

We get Rey never really being trained, going into the Cave of Wonders for a few seconds, falling in love with Kylo Ren over weird Force Skype calls (where I did not need to see him shirtless, thank you film) and being horrifically betrayed when Kylo Ren turns out not to be a great guy. Never saw that coming, Rey.

As for Kylo Ren, well... God, we get Emperor Kylo Ren. Kylo Ren, the Emperor. I’m not even that upset about the anticlimactic murder of Snoke (that was kind of funny, especially in the context of Palpatine going, “Bitch, please, you’re in my chair” immediately in the next film) but just Kylo Ren being emperor. And also that the Resistance only escapes at all because he’s so dumb he made their dumb plans seem smart (i.e. concentrates all his firepower on an illusion for ten minutes while Hux goes, “Emperor, sir, we could actually destroy the Resistance right now.”

Now, you’ll notice I didn’t complain about Luke. A lot of people are upset he became a grumpy, miserable, old hermit who sits around waiting for death. Frankly though, in this universe, that’s exactly where he is. He left “Return of the Jedi” thinking he’d saved the world, he’s resurrected the Jedi Order, and all is well. Only a decade later, his students are all murdered by his nephew, the Empire’s back, and he accomplished nothing. He’s an utter failure as a Jedi (though Luke never realizes he knew jack shit about the Jedi Order and was in way over his head but I guess that’s beyond him). Why shouldn’t he go sit on a rock and wait to die?

Now, did he have to drink that blue dinosaur milk? Well, I guess it was funny, gross but funny so... Sure, I guess he did. But I do like that he gave Rey 0 training, they had one meditation session and then he whined about how Obi-Wan was such a stupid asshole. And then Rey ran off to be with her boyfriend, who then told her that her parents were gutter trash (which again, was funny, but I don’t think that was supposed to be funny).

Of the characters introduced in the movie, the only one I really liked was the hacker, and it was for the actor/the beautiful way in which he gracefully exited stage left with zero shame going, “You all knew I was going to betray you!” You beautiful man, you.

Rise of the Skywalker

First, when something is called “Rise of the Skywalker” you know you’re in for a rough time.

But anyways, TLJ was filled with a controversy Disney didn’t want (half their audience hated it, half loved it, but at least they sold those penguin dolls) so they desperately get Abrams back. Only, what he clearly wanted from his series has been shot to hell, and now he’s left with Emperor Kylo Ren, a completely obliterated Resistance, a dead Luke, a love interest he never planned to introduce for Finn, Rey’s parental crisis being solved with trash people, Snoke just suddenly dead, Hux planning revenge, and then some.

And so, Abrams goes the brave and hilarious route of shouting “PRETEND THAT LAST MOVIE NEVER HAPPENED”

We open to a fully functioning Resistance (their bomber fleet is back, their fleet period is back, they have all their fully trained personnel). We have Rey getting the Jedi training she needed this time from Leia, who is now a Jedi, because yay feminism rammed down my throat to make the audience feel better. Rose says “It’s cool guys, I don’t want to join the adventure this film, I’m going to stay here and work on robots” so that she can gracefully exit the entire plot. Kylo Ren is demoted from Emperor in two seconds when we discover that a) Snoke was apparently Palpatine b) for unexplained reasons Palpatine’s alive (and I am now convinced that man will never die). Kylo Ren tells Rey at the first opportunity that he lied about her trash parents AND REALLY SHE’S A PALPATINE! THIS WHOLE TIME, REY! THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT. I’M SUPER SERIAL THIS TIME, REY.

Basically, in the course of an overly long movie, Abrams desperately shoves in everything he was trying to get out of the series, while sobbing, and sobbing even harder when things like Finn being Force Sensitive or Lando having a secret daughter get caught. I actually agree with the Producers on this, by the way, the Finn trying to tell Rey something scenes were weird and indicative of a love triangle but him being Force Sensitive instead... It says a lot that the movies did not change when it was removed, at all. And Lando was just this strange cameo who was in the film to make us feel nostalgic.

And this isn’t even getting to the ridiculous 24 hour time limit (which made me think there should have been some video game style clock in the corner letting us know when Dawn of the Third Day is coming), Palpatine’s other secret army on a secret Sith planet that can be easily taken down by taking out one navigation tower, Rey’s hilarious struggle with the dark side in which she has a vision of herself in a cape hissing, Kylo Ren’s hilarious redemption in which the movie in the form of Leia and Han Solo says, “Alright, Ben, it’s time to stop being evil” and he says “okay”, the fight with Palpatine in which I’m supposed to believe he dies for reals because... I have no idea why I’m supposed to believe he’s dead. The Reylo, god the Reylo, and Kylo Ren’s tragic, hilarious, death.

And then, of course, the ending where Rey decides she’s a Skywalker now.

I actually did laugh all the way through “Rise of the Skywalker”, you can’t not, I mean it’s a hilariously awful movie. The only thing that might have made it more hilarious was if we actually did get those Ewoks.

TL;DR

They’re all bad movies, if you want more specifics than this, you’re just going to have to ask me questions.

#ask #anon #anti star wars sequels #anti rey #anti kylo ren #anti reylo #ah what beautiful awful movies #i look foward to the characters being shocked and appalled when yet another evil empire arises in five years #i look forward to them being even more shocked when palpatine's still not dead #that man will never die

104 notes · View notes

jostepherjoestar · 4 years

Note

Imagine if over time everyone notices Trisha’s twin seems to getting more distant and focused on the goal. When they ask her what’s wrong she avoids the question but what everyone doesn’t know is that for everyone to get out alive either her or her sister has to die and she decided that she would protect trish like her sister has down for her over the years

Una Gemella (fic 1,5k)

Decided to name Trish’s twin Claudia after Claudia Schiffer, the famous 90′s model since Trish is also named after one. I hope you can enjoy this, it’s pretty sad and basically a totally different ending to part 5. Whoo boy.

part 1 and part 2 of the ask

Content warning: wounds, death

Under their capo’s watchful gazes, the merry band of gangsters actually worked together for their common goal: to take down Diavolo. With their combined strengths they’d figured out much more information, a lot faster. But with their collaboration also came the discovery that two of his own divisions were working against him, Diavolo went into quite a fit of rage, especially knowing that his two daughters had developed stands. His hatred only grew stronger and his lust to rid the planet of anyone who knew his history only further developed.

In some miraculous way no-one had lost their lives, of course there were less battles to be fought, having to no longer see the assassins as their enemies and vice versa. Diavolo had sent his Unità Speciale onto the large team with a few extra recently added members so he’d be sure of the traitor’s demises. Of course they all knew that Doppio was in fact protecting and housing part of their enemy, thanks to Claudia’s recently acquired stand.

Knowing how large the threat was, Diavolo decided to unleash all hell in Rome on the combined teams arrival. Night had fallen and all seemed normal, tourists were loudly enjoying their dinners, lovers enjoyed their romantic walks past the centuries old monuments, families put their children to bed. That calm was disrupted by the many stand attacks that would mark the city for years to come. The teams had decided to split up so they’d all have enemies to fight at the same time, urging for the safest way to ensure a quick end to the chaos.

On their way to the Colosseum to meet Polnareff about the arrow, Claudia seemed even more focused, there was barely any trace left of the shivering, crying girl from a few days ago. She’d hardened quickly, perhaps too quickly. Her more stern sister even being surprised to see her twin this way. Risotto, Giorno, Bruno, Trish and Claudia had formed their team and quickly met with the Frenchmen. Claudia offering short and stern answers, she’d already seen what would happen and there was no time to waste. Her father was lurking in this very spot. She knew she had no choice, there was no future in which they all could survive if she and Trish both lived. One of them had to go, she was sure of her resolve, Claudia was dying tonight.

Claudia had ignored or brushed off her companions concerns until Risotto cornered her. He knew there was something going on and he was sure to find out. “Tell me what’s going on. We are a team, you need to talk to us.” he said in a stern but concern filled voice. Before she would have been afraid to look the capo right into his crimson eyes but now she took it head on. “I have to die. There is no other way. Your men will suffer, Bucciarati’s will too if nothing is done.” the strength in her voice trembling as she felt tears pushing to release. She held them back with all her might but her trembling hand betrayed her true feelings. Risotto understood. He had put his trust in her since she first called the meeting, admiring her bravery for such a youngster.

The tall silver haired man sighed deeply, he didn’t even hide the pain behind his eyes. He was going to miss this one. He knew she wouldn’t change her mind, she was going to make the ultimate sacrifice. He didn’t ask how or when, he knew enough to deduct that it was soon. He didn’t want to make peace with her decision but he knew he had too. She could feel Diavolo getting closer, Trish could too. The two capo’s strategising inside the old rings of the crumbling monument but it was too late for that, the pink haired villain had already made his entrance, no longer using Doppio to protect himself.

It was time. The attacks were brutal but their team had the advantage of knowing his powers, even though it didn’t help much. The rage behind his hits were felt, Bruno and Giorno had taken quite the beating already. Diavolo’s plan was to work his way down to his “beautiful daughters” as he so lovingly said. Risotto stayed close to Claudia, somewhere hoping that it didn’t need to end the way it was going to. The solemn nod the youth gave to him made him aware the moment was nearing. Bruno had been incapacitated, Giorno by his side to protect him from any more harm for the moment. The blond looked not that much better off than his capo, his stand could only do so much.

Claudia was alert, knowing the direction her father would strike from, sure to protect her sister who’d taken place beside her. “I want you to finish him Trish, no mercy. I know you can. Do it for us, Risotto will help.” she told her sister, voice beginning to shake, avoiding her sisters confused gaze. She would only tear up at the sight of her. “Claudia what are you talking about? We’ll do it together. Ok?” Trish’s confusion distracting her from the incoming attack. It nearly hit her but not before her sister pushed her aside to accept the blow. Giant pieces of stone rubble had been hurled at them, smaller rocks hitting Trish and Risotto, a plume of dust camouflaging Claudia’s body from view. A pang of fear struck them as they saw her crushed beneath the large stone, barely breathing. Diavolo was still hiding behind pillars to avoid counter attacks, awaiting to see the result of his.

“Claudia! No!” Trish couldn’t hold herself back and rushed to her sister, tears already falling down her flushed cheeks, Risotto following suit. The pink haired sisters holding onto each others hands, Trish pleading for her to stay awake. “Giorno please help her! You have to, please!” she begged her teammate who’d gotten up to fight again. Risotto placed his hand on her shoulder. “It’s no use. It had to be this way. I’m... sorry.” he sternly said. But the sight before him tore at his heart, it shouldn’t have to end this way. “She’s not dead yet you fucking idiot. Giorno get over here!” Trish spitting her orders as her tears wet the ground beneath her. Claudia still faintly breathing, eyes fluttering. “You have to do it Trish... Do it for us. Kill that bastard... It had to be.” she could barely talk, shallow breaths sputtering her through her sentence. Her hand feeling numb from her sisters squeeze, like the pressure would somehow save her from her fate. “We have to keep fighting Trish, I’m sorry.” Giorno said with a solemn tone, knowing not even his healing powers could save her.

Risotto stayed by Claudia’s side, the tear stained sister focusing her anger on her father, not ready to say goodbye to her twin just yet. While Giorno and Trish continued, the capo’s large hand had taken the frail one in his. “You did really good out there kid. It takes balls to be a gangster but what you did? I don’t know what to say...” he could feel his heart swell with sadness for the coming loss. She was slipping fast. “Maybe in another life we’ll do it right.” a sad smile the last thing that would grace her beautiful face as she whispered her last words. Risotto knew it was time to help the remaining team finish off the cruel man. His sadness fuelling his resolve to fight on, holding on to her last words. Maybe in another life.

The end was in sight. Giorno had evolved his powers and was able to bring the devil himself to his knees before him. He looked pathetic, his eyes filled with fear he wasn’t going to admit to. Trish walked over, the tears having dried, remnants of dust making the watery paths visible on her cheeks. She bore her heel into the ribs of her father making him hiss and cough in response. “This is for Claudia you filthy bastard! Enjoy this pain now, you’ll be wishing you felt it again because wherever you’re going is a million times worse. You’re the most disgusting being I’ve ever laid my eyes on!” she spit on his face, she would have never done this in any other situation, thinking it a disgusting act, but now her rage was acting for her. Trish let Giorno finish him off, sending Diavolo into his own personal hell.

When he was finally gone Trish fell to her knees, not even caring about scuffing her skin. There was a faint relief, knowing there would be no more fighting, no more worrying. But it hurt, god it hurt so bad. She knew sacrifices had to be made to complete the mission but this... It wasn’t what she imagined. Her sobs returning, it felt like the tears would never stop. Bruno and Giorno placing themselves by her side to console her as best as they could. They sat by her until the sun had starting rising again, lighting the way for the dawn.

Like Claudia had predicted, all men were safe. Some worse off than others but they were all still breathing. Risotto felt a gaping emptiness in his soul, the little one had left quite the mark on him. Maybe next time, in another life, they’ll be luckier.

#cozy ask #la squadra x reader #jjba x reader #ngl i sobbed while writing this #am sensitive baby ok #la squadra #la squadra fic #risotto x reader #bruno x reader #giorno x reader #trish x reader #diavolo x reader #jjba fic #jjba part 5 #team bucciarati

105 notes · View notes

starlightsearches · 4 years

Note

Hi so i had a request idea. Hux being married to some woman bc he had to for propaganda or whatever and reader (who works closely with hux) is with them both and pryde after a meeting or at a gala, and in discussion the wife and pryde are speaking highly of brendol. The reader essentially realises hux’s wife supports and agrees with the abuse that hux has endured and so the reader takes him for a private discussion to reassure and comfort him, show that he has someone on his side. Thank you xx

Someone Else

Ahhh, writing this made me so sad, anon, you have no idea. But also, I loved it and I couldn’t stop 😰 Thank you for the request, I hope you enjoy! (Also I modified the prompt just a little bit and I hope you don’t mind)

Requests are closed ✨

Hux x Reader (no pronouns)

AN: So I’m headed on a little road trip with my sister today, and as soon as I get back, I’ll be packing up and moving, and then immediately starting work at my new school 😱 I’m not sure how this will affect my writing schedule etc, but don’t be too surprised if I’m MIA for the next week or so. I promise I’ll get back to my requests ASAP 💖 love you all 🥰🥰🥰

Warnings: ANGST, infidelity, language, not a happy ending really 🙁

Even in your most creative thoughts, it’s hard to imagine a more pathetic situation than this one. You’ve been in love with General Hux, your boss, for as long as you can remember, too cowardly to tell him how you feel. And now you’ve been forced to plan, and attend, his fucking wedding. To someone else.

You fidgeted through the whole thing: the dinner, the reception, the ceremony. Spent the whole time chewing your lip to pieces with your eyes fixed on the general, waiting for him to say something, to stop this. You could imagine how it would happen perfectly—a vision that sustained you through the whole event.

It would happen during the vows; he'd begin reading the words—the ones that you prepared for him, words about fidelity and commitment but completely void of love—and then he'd falter, pause, and his eyes would find you in the back of the crowd. The audience would fill with whispers, but you wouldn't notice at all, wouldn't hear any of it because he'd be looking at you, he'd see you looking so beautiful in the attire you chose especially for this moment and he'd realize that he’d been blind this whole time, and now . . .

The vision always got a little fuzzy there, but it was only because you couldn't wait for your favorite part: the one where he kissed you in front of all those people, a kiss so dramatic and consuming that everyone would know that it was you he loved. That it had always been you.

It didn't happen that way. No matter how deeply you tried to immerse yourself in a daydream, you couldn't miss the moment your general and his betrothed were pronounced man and wife, and the commitment was sealed with a kiss. The light smattering of applause must have been loud enough to hide the sound of your heart shattering, because no one else seemed to notice.

It’s long over now. You’re alone in the reception area, halfheartedly ripping the silk tablecloths from where they lay before balling them up and throwing them into a messy pile. You don’t have to do it, someone will be coming along to clean up eventually, but you’d like to keep busy. If you go back to your quarters, you’ll have to be alone with your thoughts.

Hux announces his presence with a slight cough that still manages to startle you, and when you turn to face him your heart breaks all over again. He looks very handsome in the uniform he wears, one made especially for this occasion—regal but not too flashy—and your breath catches in your lungs despite your mind's insistence that you're no longer allowed such feelings.

“I thought I’d find you in here, Lieutenant,” he says to break the silence, and you nod as you feel your cheeks grow warm.

“Congratulations, General,” you reply, and you almost manage to sound like you mean it, “or should I call you your highness now?”

He gives you the slightest of smirks, just a hint of a smile in response to your attempt at humor, but you can tell what he’s thinking. Emperor Hux—a title made no less impressive when you consider that it was gained through marriage. It’s what he’s always wanted; you can be happy for him.

“General is still appropriate,” he replies, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet with pride, “I’m still your commanding officer.”

“Of course, sir,” you reply, and then, because you can’t avoid the subject any longer, "is Bristol getting ready for your departure?" It's the one concession you’ve allowed yourself—refusing to use her title whenever she isn't around. Normally you’d be smug about it, like somehow you were getting back at her, but now it just leaves you feeling empty.

“She's actually entertaining the allegiant general at the moment, in my quarters,” he replies with feigned indifference, even though you know how he feels about Pryde, “he knows her father, apparently they used to be in acquaintance.” You purse your lips in response; there’s really no need for words. It doesn't surprise you that they would get along.

You had wanted to like Bristol. Before you ever met her, you had been determined to like her, hoped desperately that the general had found someone kind and loving and devoted, because he deserved happiness and acceptance even if you weren't the one giving it to him.

Whatever you were hoping for, Bristol is . . . something else. She's beautiful, certainly, and intimidating and determined—all things you would expect from the future empress of her own star system. You've also found her to be unnecessarily cruel and demanding, towards you at least, and anyone else she thought she could look down on.

Not that it matters—you're not the one married to her. And while she might not be affectionate towards the general, she had also never been openly antagonistic. Plenty of people lived through loveless marriages. The general must have taken this into account and decided that it was a worthwhile sacrifice.

They're a handsome couple. A smart couple. And soon enough, the hurt and the wanting would fade and you would be able to move on with your life. He'd just have to stop looking so nice in his uniform first.

"There's something else I need, lieutenant," he says, pulling you from your thoughts, "before I leave. I have some last minute notes, some reminders I forgot to mention before, for my absence." You can’t help but purse your lips again, this time to hide a smile of your own. He's been more nervous about his trip back to the Alfospar System than he had ever been for the wedding, and you can’t really blame him. Two weeks is a long time for someone like him to be away from their work.

"I know I told you there'd be no talk of work today,” he continues, “but if you wouldn't mind-"

"Please, general, of course I'll take the notes," you interrupt with a smile, "I never believed that you could resist talking about work for a whole day."

You shouldn't tease him like this; you have to stop teasing him at all, because he tries not to smile again, and your pulse starts to race. Whenever he makes that stupid face, all you can think about is peppering his cheeks with kisses, teasing him again until he really would smile and you could bask in the happiness that you created. He only has to hide his smiles when he’s around you, and you’re stupid enough to think that means something.

"They're in my quarters," he waits for you to drop the table cloth you'd been worrying in your hands throughout the conversation, and then you follow him through the dark and quiet corridors. Neither of you speak—you've spent too much time together to find the silence uncomfortable. Unfortunately, that means that you can hear every word coming from the open door to the general's quarters as soon as you approach.

Maybe they think they're being quiet, or maybe their voices carry, or maybe neither of them mind at all that anyone could wander right outside the door, listening to every word of what should be a private conversation.

"You could have done worse, dear, I'll give you that at least," it's Pryde's voice, his words traveling down the hallway; it’s like he's right next to you, like these are words that you're meant to hear, too, and your heart clenches in your chest because you know that's not the case.

"How exactly could I have done worse, general?" That's Bristol speaking, obviously, her tone all-too familiar, like she's suffering from a headache and she believes you're the cause. You have to stop this conversation now, before one of them says something that can't be unheard. You're about to take the first step, ready to announce your presence with some inane comment that would make Bristol roll her eyes and would hopefully make Pryde swallow whatever insult was about to leave his mouth. You're about to take the first step when Hux stops you with a hand on your shoulder and a look in his eyes that puts an end to any argument.

You hope to the gods that Pryde will, by some miracle, say something nice. Or at least, something not overtly mean. You listen and you wait, brimming with foolish hope, your eyes fastened on the general, watching the way his jaw tightens as he holds his breath, waiting for Pryde to respond.

"You know," he begins, and you can already hear the mirth, already know that his next words are going to be painful and you won't be able to protect the general from them, "I'm not actually sure." There's a slight pause and then the room is filled with their bright, callous laughter, laughter that spills out of the open door and floods the hallway so completely that you feel you might suffocate in it.

"I mean honestly, I don't think I've ever met a man so weak-willed," Bristol speaks again, and she's breathless from laughter, "he is absolutely spineless-"

"Thin as a slip of paper and just as useless," Pryde interrupts,"that's what his father used to say about him."

Bristol laughs again—just a short bark this time—before she responds, "Well, he's certainly no Brendol."

"You'd have thought his father could have beaten him into shape, but . . ." they laugh again—there’s no mistaking General Pryde’s true meaning—and General Hux has heard enough. Before you can even process everything they’ve said, he's turned on his heel, walking back the way you came.

General Hux always walks fast—because he always has places to be, he says—but you have to jog to catch up to him this time, and even then you lag behind. You stumble after him in your dress shoes, cursing the way they pinch your feet before giving up and ripping them off, pursuing him around the corner.

He goes to his office, probably because there's nowhere else for him to go, and you stop just inside the doorway, trying to catch your breath. He busies himself, or tries to, fidgeting with the sparse materials on his desk—intermittently picking up his data pad, dropping it again, running a coarse hand through his hair, then gripping the back of his chair with white-knuckled hands. It strikes you, in this moment, that you've never seen the general cry before. It makes sense—there's never really been a reason for it, but you wish he would cry now, as you feel your own eyes sting with tears, because, somehow, seeing him like this is so much worse.

“General,” your voice is too timid when you speak, and you clear your throat, willing away the tightness that grows steadily as you hold back your tears. He doesn’t look up.

You go to him, take both of his hands in your own, trying to still him, trying to hide the fact that you're shaking too. In all your time together, you've never seen him act this way. It frightens you.

"I'm sorry." It's not enough, but it's all you have to offer: a fitting metaphor for your relationship. He doesn't respond, won't even look at you with those ice green eyes. "They're wrong about you, sir." You can hardly believe that you have to say it out loud. How could he not see what you saw?

"No, lieutenant," he's dejected in his response, almost hopeless, "I don't think they are." For a moment, it feels like your heart might explode with anger, an all-encompassing anger that fills you whenever you think of Brendol Hux. The general never told you much about his relationship with his father, but you’ve put together some of the pieces. Even after all this time—after all his success—he still falls into the traps set for him by that man. Still finds it so easy to believe that he is worthless despite all the evidence to the contrary.

"How can you say that?" You cup his chin in your hand on instinct, gentle but insistent, forcing him to look you in the eyes. If you weren't so distracted by the conversation at hand, you might have realized that this was the first time you'd ever laid a hand on his bare skin, skin that’s soft and cool beneath your fingers, might have better registered the electricity setting your palm alight at the contact, might have noticed the slight flush that materialized over the general's cheeks in response to your touch. But the anger still clouds your senses, and you don’t notice any of it. "Who knows you better, general? Me or them?"

You've caught him now. You feel the delicate flex of his jaw muscles shift, as he opens his mouth, prepared to argue with you, and then freeze when he realizes that he has nothing to say.

"You are many things, sir, but spineless is not one of them," you take advantage of his silence, speaking faster, trying to get the words out as quickly as possible so that he won't have to spend another moment in this pain. "I don't think I've ever met anyone braver, or more determined, or more suited to lead . . ." You trail off there, your face growing warm. The nature of your position, your hand on his jaw, has drawn you closer, his face wandering unthinkingly towards yours, and you could count his eyelashes from this distance, number each and every one of his freckles if he'd just stay this close.

"Lieutenant-" General Hux doesn't try to pull away, but there's some distance in his tone. You know what he's thinking. You’re thinking it, too, of course. But you’ve never gotten this close before.

"Can I kiss you, sir?" You shouldn't, but you have to. If he'll let you. If he wants you to.

"Why?" You feel the whispered question brush up against your cheeks, and despite everything else, you know that this is your moment.

"I just want you to know what it's like," you say, "to feel loved." You wait, take the opportunity to breathe him in, share the same air—something you've done for years but never like this, never close enough to feel the heat of it—the tip of your nose just barely brushing against his as he nods, and he’s shaking a little.

It's not the kiss you had envisioned, as you cup his face in both your hands and pull him closer. You move deliberately, let him watch until he goes cross-eyed and then his eyes fall closed, and your lips meet his, so soft it's more the ghost of a kiss than anything. You wait for him there, wait for him to reciprocate the affection you give him, and he does, pressing his mouth against yours with a tentative kind of tenderness. It's not the kiss you had imagined—it's everything.

You move together, slow and gentle, two familiar people learning each other in an entirely new way, and it's intoxicating—being held by him, feeling the way his hands trail your spine, the way the pad of his thumb traces your jaw. It would be perfect, if he didn't belong to someone else.

"What are we going to do now?" He pulls away just long enough to whisper the question and you don’t let yourself respond, kissing him again while you still can. You don’t want to admit it just yet, but you have no idea what you’re going to do. You haven’t got a clue.

#general hux x you #general hux x reader #armitage hux x reader #armitage hux x you #armitage hux fanfiction #armitage hux oneshot #general hux oneshot #general hux fanfic #general hux angst #armitage hux angst #general hux/reader #general hux/you #armitage hux/reader #armitage hux/you #my writing #requests #anons

200 notes · View notes

sup-hoes-its-me · 4 years

Text

That’s What Friends Do (Bakugo x Reader)

A/N: It took me quite a long time for me to like bakugo, but here we go. Friends to lovers. Ur all mights daughter too (bc i love him so much i want him to be my dad tbh)

word count: 5413

“You know, Y/N? You’re kinda an airhead,” Bakugo said bluntly, flicking the girl directly on the top of her head to make her hair fly in all directions. She sighed and brushed down her hair, glaring over at the boy who walked home with her everyday. They lived on the same street so it only made sense to follow each other. Not that she particularly enjoyed it. He wasn’t always rude to her, saying offhanded things once in a while. Honestly, she didn’t even know if he meant the rude things he said, it was almost natural for him to say that kind of stuff.

She went to protest, defend herself, but Bakugo just had to have more to say.

“I mean like, you’re always dropping things and making mistakes. No doubt the only reason you’re in class a is because of your dad. And you almost never use your powers.”

She bit back her arguments, knowing she would never win. He always had a counter, and was better than her at it. She twisted her bracelets around her wrists, feeling heat starting to emit from her wrists. They had similar powers, Bakugo and her. He would turn his sweat into explosives. She could convert her negative emotions into intense body heat. They could definitely be good friends if they tried; she was so kind and open to everyone much like her father. Yet, it didn’t seem like he had friendship in mind most of the time.

“You know it’s because I have to feel bad before using it.”

“Well then you just need to be angry all the time like me maybe. It won’t do you any good to be happy all the time if you want to be a hero.”

“But I don’t want to be like that. I-I have so many friends because of my personality,” she said nervously, not really thinking about the repercussions of what she would say next. “People like me, but they don’t really like you…”

He froze where he was, his head turning swiftly to glare down at her. “Is it really better to have people like you if you’re just a useless idiot?”

He was right, she was useless. In fact, just him saying that had searing hot tears springing up in the corners of her eyes. She bit her lip, trying to keep the crying at bay. He always did make fun of her for being a crybaby.

“This is why you don’t have friends, Bakugo,” she whispered, even though she knew she was crossing another line, only to make him angrier with her.

“”Oh yeah, well then why do you follow me around? You hate me so much yet you try to act like friends? Pathetic. Stick up for yourself once in a while.”

Her body heat was intense, and he had to take a step back when it started to hit him hard. He knew he’d made her upset, it was obvious when anyone did. He felt a bit bad about it. She really was a nice girl. He shouldn’t make fun of her, only it was so unfair that she was All Might’s daughter. She was weak, and never wanted to use her powers. Someone else would make a better hero, would benefit more from the praise and privilege that came with being in that family.

Maybe he was just jealous, but he hated that thought. He was jealous of her for having powers strong enough that if she used them right could rival the level of All Might. He was jealous of Midoriya, who he suspected had somehow inherited All Might’s powers. Bakugo was strong, stronger than any of them. Why did he have the short end of the stick?

“Fine. If that’s how you want it to be-”

Just as she was about to say her final goodbye and run back to her home, they failed to notice the cracking of a tree branch right above them. At the last second, she turned her head up to the sky, gasped, and lifted her hands to shield them from the branch. Surely, she couldn’t catch it, and they wouldn’t be able to run in time.

Her hands glowed a bright red, and upon contact with the huge tree branch, the wood burnt to a crisp and shrunk to the size of burnt and ashy twig. She fell down to her knees, exhausted afterwards.

“Owie.” Y/N stared down at her burnt hands, blisters already starting to show up on her palms. Her knees stung, and after inspecting them, they were torn up and bloodied, dripping onto the sidewalk.

“Shit, Y/N. I-I...let’s get you home, alright?” Bakugo tentatively said, placing his hands under her armpits and lifting her gently from the ground. She forgot about their fight just a couple seconds ago, the pain in her hands being nearly unbearable. The blisters would go away throughout the night as part of her quirk but god, it would hurt like hell until the morning.

“Okay.”

It wasn’t that far away, thankfully, only a couple streets further. He held her around her waist, making sure she didn’t fall. He felt bad though, since the blood had dripped down to her uniform socks and stained them crimson with blood. He was surprised that, despite the pain, she didn’t cry.

Carefully, he helped her walk up each of the steps to her front door and rang the doorbell. All Might answered the door, in his hero form, and just as quickly as his smile showed, it sunk deep into a frown.

“My goodness, what happened, sweetheart?” he asked, taking his daughter in his own arms from the boy who carried her home.

“I, uh, there was a really big branch…” she struggled to say, too embarrassed to say she used a huge chunk of her power just to burn up a tree branch. “Burned my hands and fell down and yeah,” she added, looking down at her burns and cuts.

All Might turned to Bakugo and nodded his head firmly. “Thank you for helping her home, young Bakugo. You’re not hurt are you?”

“No- Y/N, she saved me.” He said softly, actually really impressed with what she had done, whether she hurt herself or not. “Y/N? Thank you. You really came through back there.”

The girl tilted her head to look at her schoolmate and smiled weakly. “It’s all good. That’s what friends do, I guess.”

“Well, you better head home for the night, Bakugo. Y/N needs rest to heal her burns,” her father said calmly, waving the boy off with his free hand. They shut the door and left the boy standing on the front porch of their home.

That weak little girl saved the both of them in a moment. He felt terrible for letting her get burned like that, but he was amazed at how much raw power she possessed. He turned on his heel and walked back down the steps, heading down the street to his own home. Maybe she wasn’t so useless after all.

_________________________________

The second Y/N learned her father was back at UA, in the infirmary being taken care of by Recovery Girl, she ran to see him. Tears had been running down her face as she watched the news, seeing the horrible things All for One had done, hearing her father struggle and seeing him lose his form in front of the public. Her friends all looked to her with wide eyes, as if they were questioning why she kept it a secret that her father was injured all this time.

Why would she tell a nation of united people that the one person keeping them together was just about to run out of power? If she felt judged, she couldn’t even imagine what her father was going through, having every single person in the world know how weak he was. Endeavor would take over his role as number one hero, and the people would lose their symbol of peace.

It was heart wrenching.

She opened the door to the infirmary, seeing All Might laying in the bed with bandages wrapped around most of his body. He looked tired and sore after all the work he had done.

“Oh, Y/N, I’ve been waiting for you to show up,” Recovery Girl announced, walking right by her with a bottle of pills to give to the hurt man. “He’s going to be just fine; no longer a pro-hero, but relatively healthy.”

A breath of relief left the girl as she walked to her father’s bedside. “Dad, I-I saw what happened...I-I never thought that you would have to fight him again. I’m sorry,” that was all she knew what to say. When she found out her father was going to fight his one true nemesis much like years before, her heart sank. She remembered how terrible it was the first time he fought All for One, and this time felt even worse.

“Y/N, sweetheart, I thought the same thing-more like I prayed it would never happen. But you heard Recovery Girl: I’m going to be fine. You should rest. It’s been a long day for everyone.”

Her ears turned red out of pure frustration, and he quirked a brow. “Calm down. I’m still the same ol’ dad.”

“One for All...is it really gone this time?”

“Just about. That’s the last of it. I told you that my next battle would be my last.”

“How can you just accept that? You’re our hero, no one else means as much to the people as you do? We can’t lose you,” she pleaded, grabbing her dad’s beaten hand and squeezing for dear life. “If it’s really gone, what are we going to do? Who will fight?”

“For now, whoever can do it. Later on, you and your classmates will most likely surpass me. If Midoriya can-”

She sighed, shaking her head. “Midoriya is trying, but I can’t believe he will be better than you.”

He smiled softly, shaking his head. “He will. You know.”

With a drop of his hand, she tightened her fists at her sides. “I know, I don’t want to believe it though,” she paused, biting her lip angrily. “I have to go check up on the others who are just getting back. Midoriya and Momo-chan and all…”

“I’m genuinely surprised you didn’t go with them.”

“I’m not heroic like them. I’m just an assist.” It saddened her, saying those words. “Besides, no one would be happy if All Might’s daughter was breaking the hero laws again.”

The girl said goodbye to her dad and the others in the medic bay shortly after that, but her heart was beating a million miles a minute, and she felt like all the air had been sucked from her lungs. She could only remain composed until she left the room and the door shut behind her loudly, echoing through the near empty hallway.

She clutched at her uniform, right over her heart. She could feel her skin heating up under her finger tips, the air drying up around her. Angrily, she bit at her lip and squeezed her eyes shut, tears threatening to burst down her face.

Seeing her dad in that state once again, this time in his weak form, it was heartbreaking. In times like this, she was truly reminded of her father's mortality just like everyone else. He wouldn't always be there for her.

"Y/N?"

Her eyes snapped open and she lifted her head swiftly. Tears started to run down her reddening cheeks. Hurriedly she tried to hide that she was crying, desperately wanting to avoid the boy's teasing. He always said she acted like a baby…

"Bakugo? I-I...shit," she choked on her words, sobs crawling up her throat.

He took a hesitant step forward, reaching his hand out to touch her shoulder. Before she had the chance to yank it out of his reach, he burned himself on her scorching hot skin. "Ah fuck!" The blond hissed, blowing on his hand to cool it off. "Forgot you did that when you're crying."

"I-I know. I'm sorry, I can't help it."

He shook his head, brushing off her apology. It was his fault for not noticing, and also not respecting personal space. He wasn't exactly sure why he reached out for her, but he did know that his heart was currently consumed with heavy guilt. It plagued over his heart. That's why he was going toward the infirmary: to peek into the window, just see how All Might was doing.

"Y/N, is it Al- I mean, you dad? He's gonna be okay, right?"

"He's alive, I guess that's something to be happy about. I just can't be positive right now about anything."

"Listen, Toshinori, it's gonna be okay-"

"Why are you being so calm? Shouldn't you be yelling at me by now for something? Crying? Burning you? Being in your way?" Y/N asked bitterly. The streams of tears on her cheeks were beginning to sizzle up against her skin, steam floating off.

He was taken aback, but really, should he be surprised? He was always rude to her in one way or another, whether he wanted to be or not? He mocked her on more than one occasion for being a crybaby. She was rightfully a bit scared of him, and it buried into his guilt further. He grimaced, his eyes trailing to the floor and his hand going to rub his other arm. He never meant to be malicious though. He supposed that was just the way he was.

Damn, he felt kinda bad. He really didn’t think he’d ever been that mean to her. Genuinely, he liked Y/N. She was not only a cute and sweet girl (despite being a bit of a “hot” head), but also the only child of his greatest hero. All Might was probably everyone’s favorite hero, to be real.

"This isn't really the time,” he muttered awkwardly.

"I should be going," she mumbled, moving to walk past him down the hall to the classroom where most of her friends were still waiting for updates on if it was safe to go home yet. Not that she would go home anytime soon. She would wait until her dad was ready to go home, and then they would leave together, her pushing him in a wheelchair no doubt.

He stopped her though, reaching out to grab her hand. It burned, but not as badly as he thought. She stopped mid stride, turning to peer at him in shock. He never touched her so gently, yet he was serious. His eyes were pained, she could see it written plainly for her eyes only.

"Bakugo?"

"Y/N, I'm sorry for how I've treated you recently, alright? I'm sorry all of this happened, and now your dad is hurt, and fuck, everything is so shitty right now. I'm sorry, Y/N."

"Why are you saying this?"

"Can't you just accept an apology?" He hadn't realized, but her skin was slowly cooling down to normal. "This is all because of me."

"No, it's not your fault."

"Listen, I gotta make a promise to you, okay? Just take it and don't say nothing, got it?" She nodded, genuinely curious as to what he was doing to say. He was a crazy guy, unpredictable to a certain point. He squeezed her hand tightly in his warm, clammy one. "I'm gonna watch out for you from now on. When no one else is there, even that damn Midoriya, I will be there to protect you."

He refused to meet her eyes for longer than a second. Her beautiful eyes made him remember just how flustered and awkward she made him feel. He glared at the ground and grunted. "It's nothing personal. I just owe you."

"For wha-"

"Didn't I tell you not to say anything? Ugh, so stupid as usual," he grumbled.

He dropped her hand roughly, eyes trained on the floor tiles again. "Just get out of here, Y/N."

The only thing she knew to do was nod silently and rush off back to the classroom. It was strange, the fuzzy feeling in her chest when he held her hand and told her he would watch over her. Maybe it was just the words, but something about Bakugo made her feel dizzy.

__________________________

"You know what's kinda scary, Y/N?" Jirou asked in between bites of her rice. The girl peered up from her lunch to her friend, raising a brow in question. She continued to slurp up her warm noodles as the girl continued. "Hot head Bakugo's been eyeing you down a lot lately. He's actually looking at you right now-"

She choked on her soup, turning her head roughly to find Bakugo in the swarm of tables and students.

"Way to be subtle, dude."

Almost immediately she met eyes with Bakugo, who was staring directly at the back of her head. Her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink, embarrassment sending shivers through her body. Just as quickly as before, she swung her head back to the table in front her, wanting to bury her head in her hands and whine.

"That's so weird. Did something happen between you two recently?" Momo asked offhandedly, waving her empty chopsticks through the air.

"N-no, nothing happened." Way to be smooth, Y/N.

Aoyama, who was sitting with the girls that day smirked as he munched on his cheese. Cheerfully, he piped up, "Aaaaanddd now he's heading over here. Mentally prepare yourself." Jirou laughed a bit under her breath and Momo smiled. They never liked Bakugo, he was annoying and rude, but it was fun to see Y/N red in the face and socially awkward.

Her friends loved to torture her. That's what she gets for being such a pushover, after all.

"Toshinori! You were looking at me?" He said quite loudly as he approached her. Ears turned red and she felt her hands growing quite warm, not burning but heated. She turned in her chair to peer up at him. His eyes were carrying his normal fury, but he seemed mildly calm. "Did you need something?"

"I...uh, no! It was an accident."

He noticed her red cheeks and her tinted ears, and out of pure frustration, he grabbed her soft hand in his rough one. Heat flared up inside her, embarrassment stabbing into her from almost every angle. She could feel her friend's eyes widen and staring at the two of them.

"Why are you hot? Am I making you feel bad?"

"No. I'm just embarrassed."

He dropped her hand back on the table and crossed his arms. "No need to be. That’s what friends do, yeah? Friends talk to each other, right?" She nodded. "We should hang out tomorrow. After classes, come to my room."

"That's pervy, don't you think?" Aoyama purred. “Plan on making a move on our innocent little heat lamp.” God, she hated the nicknames Aoyama had for her.

"Of course not, you stupid French idiot! You're the only one with a pervy mind if you think that, fucking asshole! I-I'll kill you-"

Y/N placed a gentle hand on his arm and nodded, successfully quieting him. "We can hang out. I have to study a bit so can I bring my books?"

"Yeah, that's cool or whatever." He shifted awkwardly, shoving his hand in his pants pockets. "See you later."

As he stalked off, Momo let out a loud scoff, pushing her friend on the shoulder jokingly. "You said nothing happened between you two! Lies," the girl exclaimed, laughing loudly with the rest of them.

“You gotta tell us the scoop, Toshi,” Jirou added, leaning her face in one of her palms, staring intently at the girl in question.

Y/n blushed, but tried her best to explain what had happened recently. “So about two weeks ago when Bakugo and I were walking home, we were fighting and he was yelling at me and stuff like usually, but then there was this super massive tree branch that was gonna fall on us and I burned it up with my quirk. But in the process I fell and hurt myself pretty bad so he walked me home and stuff and then I said something like, “That’s what friends do” or whatever.”

“Interesting. Maybe he respects you more since you potentially saved his life,” Momo pondered.

“But that’s not the weirdest part, guys.Then, about a week later after that incident with All for One and my dad, i was leaving the infirmary and he ran into me. And he apologized for ever being mean to me, and then said- well, this is kinda embarrassing actually…” she laughed nervously, wringing her fingers together as her face turned even darker red. “He said that he would protect me no matter what because he owes me.”

Three mouths formed ‘o’ shapes, just staring at her as she told the unexpected story. How could you expect something like that to come from someone like Bakugo? It was just crazy.

“Wow, okay, so that’s crazy as hell,” Jirou chuckled. “Maybe he has a little crush on you, Y/N.”

“What!? No way! He’s just being nice!”

Momo casts another glance back at Bakugo, noticing that he was once again peeking up at Y/N every once in a while. Bakugo caught Momo’s eyes and quickly lowered his gaze, having been caught doing something so unlike him. “Mhmm, looks like your right, Jirou. He was looking at her again.”

Y/n squealed, dropping her head to the table so no one could see how embarrassed she was. Just what was Bakugo feeling? There was no way he liked her. He never acted like it or showed her any affection since they met at the beginning of the school year. She would just have to wait until they hung out to see what was up with him. She would ask him how he felt about her and that would be the end of it.

______________________________________

Maybe this was gonna be harder than she thought. Classes had ended and she was walking very slowly back to the dorms. It’s easy in theory to just go to a boy’s dorm room to hang out and study but when it actually happens, so many feelings pour into you.

It was just Bakugo, it wasn’t like she didn’t know the guy. Plus, they were just friends, but that didn’t make him any less cute-what the hell? Y/N brought her book up to her and whacked her forehead, expelling the thought from her mind. Bakugo Katsuki was not cute, not in a million years. More like a demon.

She shifted her bag on her shoulder as she walked through the dorms, walking past hers and down the hall to Bakugo’s. He said right after class, right? Hopefully he was already home. It would be so embarrassing if she showed up too early and he saw her being eager to see him. Not that she was excited for this hangout, definitely not. It was just studying while he did whatever Bakugo does.

As she stood in front of his dorm, she pulled down her skirt just a bit to cover her as much as possible, and adjusted the collar on her button up. She felt so exposed, even with no one looking at her. Must just be the nerves. It’s fine, she thought, everything is going to go smoothly and then she can head to her bed later than night.

She knocked on the door and within a few seconds, the door opened.

He was undressed from his uniform, instead wearing a black shirt and cargo shorts. Typical Bakugo clothes. Still, this made her anxious; maybe she should have gotten into casual clothes before heading over. Does it really matter though? She didn’t know, and as the anxiety grew she felt herself getting hot.

“You good, Y/N?”

“Yeah, haha, of course. Just ready to get studying.” He nodded, moving to the side to let her in the room. When she saw the inside, she was quite surprised. It was nearly spotless, not a single thing seemed out of place, no clothes on the floor, perfect dorm. She scanned the bookshelves on the walls, and noticed a particular manga immediately, one she also had in her own library.

As she walked over to the bookcase and swiped the volume off the shelf, he quickly shut the door and rushed to her side. “Uh, lets just put that back-”

“You like Maid-sama too?”

“Uh…”

She turned the book in her hands, a smile growing on her lips. “I have all the volumes in my dorm, too. I’ve got to be honest, Bakugo, I did not expect you to read the same manga as me.” He grabbed the manga from her and put it back in it’s organized place on the shelf. “No need to be embarrassed. Just between you and me, my dad sometimes reads my manga without telling me.”

The boy could only gawk. “No fucking way. All Might reads shoujo manga?” he asked, eyes wide with surprise.

“Maybe, but you didn’t hear it from me.”

She placed her bag down on his desk and took a seat at his swivel chair, sinking into the comfy leather. Then, she pulled out her textbook, opened to the page she was working on before she left class, and started to highlight what was needed. He watched her for a couple minutes before sitting on his bed and taking out his phone, leaning back and playing a game on his phone to pass the time.

He expected her to be a bit quiet, but completely ignoring him for her work was really disappointing. He invited her over so they could talk about themselves maybe, and he could learn more about her. They used to talk every day on their way home from school, and he sorta missed that now that they had dorms.

After about twenty minutes, he took a peek to see what she was up to, only to notice her eyebrows furrowed and her fist clenched around her pen. “What’s up?”

“It’s nothing. I just can’t focus on my work,” she sighed. “Jirou and Yaomomo said something to me the other day at lunch and um, I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No, not really. I just wanna hang out now. No use studying if I’m not focused.”

He shrugged, but internally he was happy. She would finally spend time with him in his own room all alone. He wouldn’t have to worry about other people looking at him like he was a softy either for being so nice to the girl. He waved her over to his bed and pulled out his laptop. “Wanna watch anime with me?”

“Yeah, sure.”

After she hesitantly took a seat beside him in his bed, she felt herself getting a bit warm again. Their thighs were close enough to touch, same with their shoulders. She crossed her arms over her chest to hide some of her awkwardness, surprised that he seemed completely unphased being pressed to her side like that.

Little did she know, he was going insane. He could feel the heat from her body and it was making it go crazy. He had to hide it though. The last thing he wanted was to scare her away. It wasn’t like he was obsessed with her, and he definitely did not like her in a romantic way, even if she was adorable and kind and super selfless having saved him a couple weeks ago from near death.

He turned on some show she had never heard of, and they sat silently watching it. Y/N wasn’t really into mechas so she couldn’t get into the show. Her mind just kept circling all those Bakugo thoughts. He was cute and definitely attractive. Their thighs and arms were touching and if she wanted she could lean her head over and rest it on his shoulder easily. Not to mention her friends had planted in her mind that the boy had a massive crush on her, making the situation ten times more stressful.

Finally, during a scene where the lame main character was talking to one of the sides, she turned to him and blurted out before she could stop herself, “Bakugo, do you have a crush on me?”

He jumped a bit at her sudden question, turning his whole body to see her. “Y/N-”

“Jirou and Yaomomo told me that everything you’ve been doing for me lately means you’ve got a crush on me, and um, I want to know if they are right.”

He paused for a second, trying to think of an escape plan, yet his mind was blank. He grimaced, looking down at the bed. “I don’t know. Maybe, probably. What does it matter?”

Y/n fiddled with her hands in her lap and confessed, “I-I don’t know. Maybe I might like you too, I guess…” when he didn’t say anything she added before things got too much more awkward, “But we can totally still be friends if that’s what you want.”

He nodded in agreement, but his mind was on other things. This sweet girl, someone powerful and brave and kind, liked him back. He hadn’t expected this when he started to talk to her and be nice to her for the past couple weeks. He maybe assumed that she wouldn’t hate him anymore, but this was on another level.

He also had no experience with girls. They never got along with him and he never gave them the time of day. Y/N was the first girl he ever really liked. He was right to be hella nervous.

"So, um, do you wanna keep watching or uh-"

He nodded trying not to let how he felt show through. He placed the laptop back on their legs in front of them and played the next episode.

But he kept feeling her eyes glancing over at him. Each time he would look to see if what he felt was true, she would turn away and pretend she had been watching the show.

"I think maybe I should go." She started to shift off the bed, her legs dangling off the side when he grabbed her wrist. She looked back at him only for his other hand to grab her cheek, forcing her to look at him.

"I don't want you to go. I think you should stay. Just for a little longer."

"But, things feel awkward now. I feel kinda weird about confessing and all." She rubbed her arm, lowering her eyes to the bed. "I really like you and all, you seem like such a fun guy…You've been one of my good friends since school started. I don't want it to be weird."

"It won't be weird," he argued, pulling her closer to him. "Y/N, I'm going to kiss you now."

She nodded, hopelessly giving in to the boy. He leaned forward just enough to press his lips to hers which were warm and soft. He pulled her face closer to his, running his thumbs over her cheekbones and his tongue across her lips. He'd never kissed, but he'd read enough manga to know what women liked.

She moved without breaking their kiss so she could kneel in front of him, her hands going to wrap around his neck. The kiss was intense, lips moving against each other smoothly for so long. He moved his hands from her face and opted for placing them up her thighs pulling her legs around his waist so her chest was pressed to his, as close as they could be.

Y/N pulled away, ducking her head down against his shoulder. "My dad won't like this."

"Oh shut up. He doesn't have to know."

And then he kissed her again. Over and over again.

#bakugo x reader #bakugou fluff #katsuki bakugo imagine #katsuki bakugo x reader #one shot #bnha oneshot #mha one shot #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #katsuki bakugo #boku no hero academia x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #my hero academia x reader

158 notes · View notes

hearteyes-for-killmonger · 4 years

Text

6. The Wakandan Rainforest

In the dark of night, the lonely and fearsome prince moved soundlessly through ancient and majestic trees, tall and dense. The song of insects was alive with the chirp of crickets. The starlit leaves of vines and bushes reflected the clear blue from the sky peaking through branches stretched like fingers. In a single leap, his heavy body rustled the leaves up high like wind. He was as a bird on the branch, the ghost floating above--haunting the land. His dark sated eyes gazed out at the glowing full moon, concise and set apart from the clouds--lonely and after all these years still beautiful.

After beating the afterlife out of both Julip and Deanna for letting the girl go, he stood still as a statue on his perch until he spotted with his sharp eyes, Dawn tripping over a low branch as she was tiredly trekking through mud and dark soil, trying her hardest to avoid being bitten, stung, mauled, or worse--recaptured. Pissed at the siblings, he'd followed her from the time she first 'escaped' from the castle, running until her energy ran out. The light from outside of the canopy dropped fast making it nearly impossible for her to see which was too dangerous for her. She couldn't be in the woods alone, she'd get lost. She could be hurt. As a human she was fragile. Anything could kill her with a wrong step. He kept his eyes on her, trailing and guessing her path from above until she finally stopped too tired to continue, settling down on the ground with her back slowly against a tree to rest. There was something about her that made it impossible for him to leave her alone. It was as though he'd known her intimately since the day he was born but couldn't figure out how, like she was already a big part of him somehow. It was the same odd feeling that drove him to follow her through the woods right before her friends were murdered, even though he'd never before seen her. He'd then followed the vehicle of men and rescued her, taking her to his castle with no clear plan or motive other than keeping her near to himself to understand the feelings flowing through him, yet he'd been too shy to come close. He'd kept his distance. If anyone knew that, they'd laugh and think it nonsense--the fearsome and wicked Prince N'Jadaka--shy. It was laughable. As the oldest and strongest vampire in his kingdom, he was seen as unshakable. Alas, in all his power he still couldn't bring himself to be near a flimsy human, and now that she was running away trying to find safety he wasn't sure he was willing to stop her.

His lime green parrots flew overhead, watching over her just as he was. It seemed they recognized her somehow as well. Night turned to day and without a need to sleep, he waited patiently for her to wake, only coming down to divert the venomous snakes and spiders that would slither her way. She woke with a start but he was already back in the trees above when she looked around in a panic. After another mile, he watched the joy in her face as she realized she'd finally reached the big tree, a marker for the pathway from the forest. She still had a long way to go on foot as slow as she was. It took her the day to get to the stream which she crossed so painstakingly, soaking the bottom of her dress and even taking a drink. He forgot she needed to eat and drink, she was probably famished. Still, she kept moving and by the time nightfall returned, she was at the meadow clearing. He was impressed. She nestled down in the open field to stay the night and he hung back in the trees, staying put to keep watch.

The flowers claimed her in peace and the music of the night came from a chorus of crickets and frogs until a foreign noise caught his attention. He looked out from his position high in the trees to see a few men with guns walking through his forest about a mile out but the girl's direction. They did not know she was there but there was a high chance they'd find her and he could not bear the thought. Every now and then he'd find humans wandering. Some were threats and some were not, but regardless--they were all blood reserves that could not be wasted. These guys were definite threats that he needed to eradicate.

"Hold on," he pleaded silently hoping the girl would not wake and leave before he could return. He had to be quick. At top speed, he jumped from tree to tree and swooped down knocking the men unconscious and carrying them back to his castle in under 20 minutes. They'd be washed and bled for the banquet. He was back in no time at all having missed nothing.

In the daylight when the girl woke again, she made her way a little more carefully toward the snake pit and he felt nervous watching her tiptoe across a dirt floor of rattlesnakes. He couldn't take it. When she screamed, he swooped down and pulled her out sitting her on safe ground. She seemed more terrified of him than the snakes, stumbling backward and falling in shock. She hadn't known he was following. He took a short walk away from her putting space between himself and her to put her at ease.

"You shouldn't be in these woods alone," he stated watching her step further away. "It's dangerous out here-- for someone like you. Defenseless." He could hear her heart and it was racing. He was still scaring her. He didn't know how not to. "You can't run from me," he told her hoping she would understand. It only seemed to add to her fear and then he noticed that as she backed up, she was walking into a giant web of a poisonous spider.

"Wait! Stop moving!" He reached out but she went faster running into it and freaking out, screaming as she tried to pull off the sticky web. "Stop moving, let me help you," he said steadily with his hands up. He was able to get near and gently remove the large spindly arachnid from her hair, placing it on a nearby tree. He stayed at a distance from her while she calmed and when she caught her breath, she seemed to be a little more stable, staring at him. His nervousness returned and he stood still.

"Thanks," she muttered, her eye contact even. He straightened, not sure how to respond. He gave a stone-faced nod.

"So," she paused to look him over. "How long have you been here? You were gonna let me go," she accused.

"No such thing, I'd have stopped you," he lied trying to be convincing. "I planned to kill you when you reached the border, you know the location of my castle." He regretted saying it when the fear resurfaced within her. What was wrong with him? Luckily her fear lasted only seconds.

"You've had ample time," she combated watching him closely. "I think you're full of shit."

"Oh? I'm KING in these woods, I can do what I want to who I want. You really dare to test me? Pet?" His approach was smooth as it had always been, her words lighting a fire within him. He walked right up to her until he stood inches away, but she didn't move nor did she flinch and he scoffed--shown up. "Don't test me," he smirked until she continued her path away from him. He knew it well and she was planning to walk directly into bear territory.

"Wait," he called effectively halting her steps. She came back but only to pull him by the neck of his tunic to follow her. Of course, she wasn't strong enough to move him. It only worked because he chose it. If his subjects could see him now being led through his forest by the delicate fingers of a human woman, he'd be embarrassed but where no one could see--he didn't mind. She felt like home and being near her felt right.

The walk was good. Peaceful. They didn't talk though he'd wanted to, he didn't know what to say. It took him twenty minutes to decide on the perfect question, ruling out three others. It was the question he wanted answered the most. He waited for what seemed like the perfect moment, she was getting a little tired and needed to stop walking for a bit.

"A week ago," he started watching her sit on the ground in her silk dress. He heard her stomach grumble aggressively and felt bad. "Hold on," he gestured pausing in his escape to look back at her. "Don't move."

He knew of a fruit grove full of plums and he was there and back in mere minutes, offering her the fruits which she held like gold. He waited until she got one in her system to pose his question.

"Why were you in the woods?"

The story of her travel from North America to Africa for the sake of dance intrigued him.

"Is that why your feet," he gestured with his eyes not wishing to insult her. She didn't seem to care.

"These are dancer feet, we suffer for beauty," she countered. Of course this came with a sadness stemming from her missing her performance, she was very upset and he understood why. He hadn't known about it until this moment. No one had said anything, too afraid he gathered.

"I've never seen a ballet," he shared, curiosity bubbling. "I probably never will considering I'm contained to this forest."

"Why is that," she frowned. It was a tough question to answer, not because he didn't know but because of how it affected him. It was part of the blood curse passed from his parents to him, something his father brought on voluntarily without weighing the consequences. He was stuck with said consequences and left on his own, a baby forced to grow himself. The first wanderers he found in the forest, he turned by biting them. He didn't know then what would happen but once they turned they were bound to his side and he was no longer quite so alone though he was still lonely. That was the beginning of his kingdom and his motivation for turning straggling travelers.

"That's why you killed Deanna and Julip, you wanted friends." Her face was full of sympathy and he straightened, not liking the idea of being pathetic in her eyes.

"They're not my friends, they're my subjects. I have no friends."

"Eh, you could," she poked at his arm and he walked away, disappearing from her sight not wanting to appear weak. "Where are you going," she called dryly.

"Away."

"I was just saying if you dropped the holier than thou attitude, you might be a little less bitchy."

"Get your ass back here," she commanded and he turned on his heel incredulous. No one in his life had ever spoke to him an ounce of the way she had. If they had, he'd have tortured them to send a clear message.

"Careful," he warned, but she didn't seem fearful. Any fear she had melted the second she first challenged him.

Bitchy? He scowled baring his teeth.

"I'll show you bitchy," he whispered lunging at her. She screamed tripping over herself to get away but he noticed that her heart was steady. As he chased her in slow motion compared to his possible speed, she wasn't afraid. She was having fun. She screamed again tossing a plum at him which he caught as she giggled running behind a tree. It was when he broke the branch she was hiding behind like a toothpick that she stopped giggling.

Passing him she made her easy back to their spot and though he'd gotten a little bit carried away, he couldn't deny that it was the most fun he'd ever had.

"Uhh. Maybe we should just talk some more, yeah?"

He shrugged.

@goddessofthundathighs @thadelightfulone @mszrenee @woahitslucyylu @badgalbrix1 @supersizemeplz @idont-know-shit @ladymac82 @xsweetdellzx

#original #erik killmonger #killmonger #erik stevens #black panther killmonger #erik x oc #sanctuary

33 notes · View notes

whumphoarder · 4 years

Text

Emergency Contact

Summary: It’s not that James disliked his roommate, it’s just that they didn’t exactly get off on the right foot.

Or, in which fifteen-year-old college freshman Tony Stark needs a ride to the ER and James Rhodes is too responsible for his own good.

Word count: 4,050

Genre: sickfic, hurt/comfort, angst, whump

A/N: Thank you so much to @xxx-cat-xxx and @sallyidss for beta reading, ideas, and encouragement!

Link to read on Ao3

It’s not that James disliked his roommate, it’s just that they didn’t exactly get off on the right foot.

To be fair, the skinny five-foot-four prepubescent kid who’d walked into James’ dorm on move-in day didn’t look much like a college student, nor was he lugging in cardboard boxes and duffle bags filled with crap like the rest of the freshmen in the hall. There was no air of excitement and trepidation to him—no telltale buzz of new experiences. Not to mention, James had spent the majority of his summer away at Air Force ROTC camp, cut off from most forms of media and therefore oblivious to the rumors that Howard Stark’s infamous fifteen-year-old child prodigy was set to start his engineering course at MIT the very same semester that he was. It was hardly his fault for not recognizing the kid.

Even so, he probably shouldn’t have addressed Tony as ‘champ’ and asked if he was there to drop off an older sibling. That was on him.

What was not on James, however, was the fit Stark pitched at the resident assistant’s office upon realizing that his father had evidently not set him up with a single room after all.

“So move me then,” the little twerp demanded. “Just put it on the old man’s bill—he’s got the money. I didn’t just live through the last seven years of boarding school dormitories only to have to keep sharing the fucking bathroom in college.” He glanced over his shoulder at James, before adding, offhandedly, “No offense—I’m sure you’re swell.”

James huffed out a short, ironic laugh. He was standing in the back corner of the office with his back leaning against the wall and his arms crossed over his chest, quietly taking in the scene unfolding in front of him. “None taken.”

(At this point, he wouldn’t have minded a switch either.)

The mousy redhead at the desk looked frazzled. “Look, I’m very sorry, Mr. Stark,” she tried to explain, “but there’s nothing I can do. All our single dorms are fully booked.”

Even when the kid shoved a wad of cash at her tall enough to make James’ eyebrows rise, the RA held her ground.

“It’s a first come, first serve policy,” she explained, her voice faltering, but words firm. “At least until something opens up. I’m sorry, but that’s just how it has to be.”

So there they were, a nineteen-year-old Air Force cadet from a working class family in Philly who had gotten into ‘fancy school’ on an ROTC scholarship, a 3.87 GPA, and a prayer, and a spoiled rich brat with a pile of daddy issues taller than the Bunker Hill Monument. The two were going to be stuck together for at least the next few weeks and neither of them was particularly thrilled about it.

Despite James’ initial concerns, rooming with Stark wasn’t actually that bad.

James had an additional scholarship that was dependent on his academic performance, so he joined several study groups to keep his grades up. Between ROTC, student government, and mock UN, along with his never-ending mountain of engineering coursework, he was rarely home.

Meanwhile, Tony might look like a twelve-year-old, but that certainly didn’t get in the way of his budding popularity on campus. The kid was swimming in invites to different parties and events (though whether that was due to his own sharp wit and natural charisma, or simply his undeniable social status as the son of Howard Stark, James couldn’t tell). Either way, between James’ busy schedule and Tony’s avid social calendar, the two could go days without seeing each other, which suited them both just fine.

With all the partying, James figured his roommate’s grades must be suffering, but a curious glance at the quarterly report letter lying on Tony’s desk last week proved otherwise. The kid had straight A’s in all seven of his classes—two more than James himself was taking.

(Alright, maybe he disliked Tony a little bit.)

James knew it wasn’t going to be a good day from the moment he woke up to see sunlight streaming in through the blinds. That just wasn’t supposed to happen at 5:45 a.m. in November.

“Shit,” he muttered, scrambling out of his twin-size bunk. The display on his alarm clock was silently blinking the very incorrect time of ‘12:00’. The previous night’s storm must have knocked out the power. He grabbed his watch from atop his desk to check the actual time and immediately breathed out a sigh of relief. 7:22. No morning run today, but he should still be able to make it to his eight a.m. class if he hurried.

Still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he snagged some clean clothes from his dresser and made a beeline to the adjoining bathroom. He pushed open the door and slapped on the light switch, but the second the room illuminated to reveal the scrawny figure sitting slumped on the floor between the toilet and the wall, James froze.

“Tony?” he asked in confusion. He hadn’t even heard the kid come home last night.

Without opening his eyes, Tony hummed a bit in response. Then all at once, he lurched forward and gagged, coughing up what looked to be mostly bile into the toilet bowl.

James grimaced. It was definitely not the first time he’d seen his roommate severely hungover, but it was the first time he’d seen it happen on a Tuesday . At the rate this kid was partying, he’d be lucky if he had any liver function left by the time he graduated.

With a sigh, James set his stack of clean clothes down on the sink counter. “Look man, I’m sorry, but I really gotta shower. I know you’re not feeling too great, but do you think you can give me, like, five minutes in here?”

Tony blinked up at him, seeming to process the question. Then, slowly, he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, okay…”

Doing his best to ignore the acidic smell of vomit, James stepped carefully around Tony into the small room. He flushed the toilet and grabbed the metal trash can from beside the sink while Tony pulled himself shakily to his feet.

“Thanks dude. I promise I’ll be fast.” He passed the can off to Tony and watched him stumble back out of the room before shutting the door.

If the military had taught James nothing else, it was efficiency. He emerged ten minutes later—showered, dressed, and clean shaven—to find Tony sitting listlessly on the edge of his bed. The boy looked more dead than alive, with one arm wrapped around his stomach and sweat soaking through his thin gray t-shirt. Just the sight of him was practically an underage drinking PSA in itself.

“Bathroom’s all yours,” James announced as he grabbed his backpack from the floor.

Tony acknowledged him with a small grunt, but didn’t make any effort to move. His mouth was slightly open and he was breathing through it carefully, warily eyeing the trash can on the floor in front of him. For once, James was glad he had an eight a.m. class to get to; he figured in about five minutes, he wouldn’t want to be here anyway.

In a spur of the moment gesture of kindness, James grabbed a fresh bottle of water from the case under his desk and tossed it onto Tony’s bed. “Feel better, dude,” he said on his way out the door.

Tuesday was always a busy day for James. He had back-to-back classes all morning, followed by a student council meeting in the afternoon and a mandatory ROTC training session. It was nearly seven o’clock by the time he made it back to the dorm, and by that time he’d honestly forgotten about that morning’s excitement until he opened the door to their room.

As miserable as Tony had appeared that morning, he looked decidedly worse now. He was lying curled up on the edge of his bed in a tangle of sheets and blankets, cheeks flushed and body shivering. The whole room carried the vague scent of vomit, though the trash can by the bed was currently empty.

“So… I take it this isn’t a hangover?” James deduced, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. He plopped the paper sack of Taco Bell that was going to make up his dinner onto his desk, causing Tony’s face to scrunch up in displeasure. “Stomach flu?” he guessed.

Tony made a non-committal sound in the back of his throat.

“Think you got a fever?”

Another low noise issued from Tony, somewhere between a grunt and a moan, which James took to mean something along the lines of ‘don’t know, and don’t care.’

James hesitated a moment, unsure what to do. If his mother were here, she’d tisk her tongue and press her hand to the kid’s forehead to gauge his temperature, but somehow he didn’t see that going over too well with Tony.

Instead, James checked his watch and sighed. “I can give you a ride to the student health center if you want,” he offered. “They don’t close until eight.”

“Don’ have to... ‘s just a bug,” Tony mumbled into the pillow, the most consecutive words James had heard from him all day. “I’ll be fine.”

The thing was, if Tony were one of his ROTC buddies, James would have dropped it right there. He’d never been particularly good at caretaking, and besides, he had a test coming up in his thermal-fluids class tomorrow morning that he should really be studying for. But something about the utter vulnerability Tony was displaying at the moment gave James pause. True, the kid might be a stuck-up asshole, but he was also just that— a kid. Only a few years older than James’ own kid-brother.

James looked at Tony appraisingly. “Can you handle a shower?”

“Huh?” Tony breathed.

“A shower,” James repeated. “Remember those? Water, soap, maybe even some shampoo if you’re feeling adventurous,” he said wryly. “That is, if you can do it without passing out.”

Tony fixed him with a rather pathetic glare. “Not gonna pass out.”

“You better not,” James quipped, crossing his arms and watching as Tony pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. “I’ve seen more than enough white boys’ pasty asses this summer to last a lifetime. I have no desire to add another.”

(Tony lifted his middle finger weakly in his roommate’s direction.)

Over the sound of the shower running in the background, James ate his tacos and started flipping through his class notes in preparation for the test the next morning, but he was finding it unusually hard to focus. He kept listening for any sounds of distress from the bathroom, and after fifteen minutes had elapsed, he got up from his desk and crossed the room.

“Hey, I was serious about the ‘no passing out’ rule, Stark,” he hollered, rapping his knuckles against the door. “If you biff it in there, you’re on your own.”

As if on cue, a loud crashing sound immediately issued from inside the shower.

James’ eyes widened. He jiggled the door handle only to find it locked. “Tony?” he called. “Did you just fall?”

There was no response.

James cursed. He grabbed a paper clip from his desk and quickly jimmied the flimsy lock open—a skill he’d learned from his cousins years ago—before pushing open the door. “Tony?” he called again.

Suddenly, a hand emerged and pulled the edge of the shower curtain back just enough for Tony to stick his head out the side. His face was totally straight, but there was a hint of mirth in his eyes. “Whoops, must’ve dropped the shampoo bottle,” he deadpanned. “Thank god I’m rooming with the US Coast Guard.”

“Air Force,” James corrected irritably.

Tony pulled the curtain back closed. “Whatever.”

James rolled his eyes. “Next time I’m letting you drown, Stark...” he grumbled as he stepped back out of the room.

By the time Tony finally emerged from the bathroom an additional twenty minutes later (the latter ten of which he’d spent retching loud enough into the toilet that James had broken out his walkman and headphones), all traces of his earlier humor had dissolved. He moved shakily back to his bed and managed a couple sips of water before curling up on his side, the trash can within easy reach.

James tried to turn his attention back to his textbook, but Tony’s labored breathing as he drifted in and out of consciousness was making it difficult to focus. James kept stealing worried side glances back at the bed, wondering whether there was something else he should be doing.

At around nine-thirty, Tony jerked up suddenly and stumbled back to the bathroom to start dry-retching into the toilet again, and that was when James gave up trying to study for the night. He got up from his desk and pushed open the hastily half-closed door to the bathroom to wet a washcloth at the sink. When the mostly unproductive spasms ceased, he handed the cloth to Tony.

“Have you eaten anything today?” James asked, though he was pretty sure he knew the answer already.

Tony just grimaced and shook his head.

“Want some crackers or something?” he offered. “I can go raid the cafeteria soup station.” James might not have had as packed of a social calendar as Tony, but it wasn’t like he never partied. He still knew the college hangover tricks.

Tony shook his head again, eyes closed. He seemed to lack the energy for words.

“Gatorade at least then?” James tried again. “All I’ve seen you drink today is one water bottle—you’ve gotta be getting dehydrated by now.”

Another head shake. “I’ll jus’ puke it up again…” Tony muttered. “Prob’ly a kidney too at this rate.”

“Well it’s better than puking up nothing,” James reasoned. Technically, he didn’t know if that was true or not, but he was tired of watching the kid be miserable. He moved back to the room to grab his keys and jacket. “What flavor do you want?” he called.

“Doesn’t matter,” Tony croaked back from the bathroom. “They’re all terrible.”

“That’s the most ignorant thing I’ve ever heard you say,” James retorted. “Just for that you’re getting purple.”

And with that, he exited the dorm and shut the door behind him with a bang.

It turned out that the vending machine in the lobby outside the dining hall only sold three Gatorade flavors—blue, orange, and red. James bought a bottle of each, then slipped into the deserted cafeteria to snag a handful of individually-wrapped saltine packets from the clam chowder counter before heading back to the dorm. It took some cajoling, but he managed to get two full crackers and half a bottle of the sports drink into Tony before it came right back up.

“Told you,” Tony rasped, spitting neon blue strings of bile into the toilet bowl. “Lost cause.”

“We’ll try red next,” James said, cracking open a fresh bottle. “One of them’s bound to stick.”

But red didn’t stay down any better, and neither did orange. James mooched a can of ginger ale and a quarter of a bottle of Pepto Bismol off a fellow cadet down the hall, but those fared no better. Even the cup of tap water James kept bullying him into taking sips from proved too much.

By midnight, Tony was still sitting slumped against the toilet on the bathroom floor, barely conscious, and James was at a total loss. “I think we have to go to the ER,” he admitted finally.

Without opening his eyes, Tony made a low noise of discontent in the back of his throat. His eyes were sunken in and he was alarmingly pale.

James let out a deep sigh. “Look, I’m sorry man, but we’re running out of options here. If you can’t even keep water down, you’re gonna need an IV.”

“No…” Tony lifted a shaky hand to try to take the cup of water James was holding. “I’ll-I’ll try again… just—” His words were cut off by a weak gag.

James cursed under his breath and quickly steered Tony’s head back over the bowl. It turned out not to matter though because for the next several minutes of miserable retching, nothing came up. When it was finally over, Tony slumped back against the wall. His eyes were red and puffy, and James figured it was only dehydration that was keeping the tears from falling.

“Alright, that’s it,” James declared. He wrapped an arm around Tony to lever him upright, feeling the feverish heat coming off the kid in waves. “I’m not letting you die on our bathroom floor—we won’t get the deposit back.”

Tony breathed out the ghost of a laugh. “Jus’ tell Howard to write you a check at the funeral...” he murmured. “‘bout all he’s good for,” he added under his breath.

James’ brow furrowed but he chose not to comment. He hoisted Tony to his feet and bore most of the kid’s weight as he led him back to the bedroom and sat him down on the edge of the mattress. “I’m gonna get you a clean shirt, okay?”

Tony nodded, gazing blankly forward with half-lidded eyes. James ended up having to help the kid pull his sweat-soaked t-shirt off and guide his uncooperative arms into a fresh one, followed by his coat. When they got to the shoes, James didn’t even bother having Tony try himself. He just stuffed the kid’s feet into a pair of sneakers for him.

“I taught my little sister how to do this last summer,” James explained as he tied Tony’s laces, if only for something to fill the awkward silence. “She’s in first grade.”

Tony hummed lightly. “I never went.”

James frowned, pulling the knot tight. “What do you mean?”

“Firs’ grade,” Tony clarified. “Or second. They started me in third.”

James smirked, imagining tiny five-year-old Tony filling out his multiplication tables in a classroom full of kids a full head taller than him. But his face quickly fell again as he suddenly realized a potential flaw in their plan. Tony may be in college, but he was still technically a minor. James wasn’t even sure if he was allowed to bring him off campus. “Shit, we’re gonna need to call your parents...” he said.

Tony’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Why?”

James raised an eyebrow. “Because I’m about to haul their fifteen-year-old son’s ass off to the hospital? Have you been following this conversation at all?”

“Oh. Jus’ leave a note for the RA.” Tony shrugged, listless. “They won’t care.”

James gave him a strange look. “Of course they’ll care—they’re your parents.”

Tony’s eyes were glassy with fever. “They won’t,” he croaked. “Been in boarding school since I was seven.” A shiver ran through his body and he swallowed hard before continuing. “Got pneumonia one winter and was in the hospital eight days. Dad jus’ paid the school to handle everything—didn’ even visit.” A tear finally slipped down the side of his cheek. “I was twelve.”

James knew it was just the fever making Tony so forthcoming at the moment, but it didn’t make his words any easier to take. As much as James always complained about his own mother’s doting whenever he wasn’t feeling well, he couldn’t imagine being sick enough to be in the hospital and not having anyone there for him. He didn’t know what to say.

Thankfully, Tony broke the awkward silence. “Sorry,” he whispered, closing his eyes and pressing his palm against them. “‘M fine.”

With a quiet sigh, James put his arm around Tony to help him back to standing. “You know what? We’ll just call them when we get there,” he said before leading Tony out to the car.

The drive to the hospital was uneventful. Tony sat curled up in the passenger seat of James’ old beater of a Chevy Monza with an empty plastic bag in his lap, quiet except for the occasional whimper he’d let out when they’d hit a bump in the road. When they arrived, James got Tony checked in and situated in the waiting room with some forms to fill out before stepping out to the foyer to use the payphone.

James fished the scrap of paper containing the number that Tony had finally agreed to give him out of his pocket. He dialed it three times. Each time, the call was picked up by the answering machine. On the third round, he left the Starks a brief message stating which hospital Tony was at and how they could contact their son, then hung up quickly before he could add anything else he might come to regret.

He reentered the waiting area to find Tony sitting hunched forward in his chair, breathing shallowly and clutching the small kidney-shaped basin that the triage nurse had given him like his life depended on it. “What’d they say?” he murmured. James wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard just a hint of hopefulness in the kid’s voice.

Without meeting Tony’s gaze, he slid into the seat beside him. “They didn’t answer,” he said guiltily.

Tony’s tone returned to flat: “Shocking.”

“They’re probably just asleep,” James reasoned, trying to sound more certain than he felt. “I left a message, but we can try again later.”

Tony hummed absently. Then all at once, he brought the small plastic container he was holding up to his mouth and threw up whatever little liquid remained in him. His hands were trembling so hard that James had to help him steady the basin.

When the heaving stopped, one of the nurses from the front desk exchanged the used basin for a clean one. Tony grunted in thanks, then looked up wearily and locked eyes with James. “You really don’ have to stay.”

James gave a tiny scoff. “What? You think I’d just leave you here to faceplant on the linoleum?”

Tony shrugged a bit. “‘S not like we’re friends, Jim.”

James pondered this for a few seconds before returning the shrug. “I guess you’re right.” He settled back in his chair and picked up a copy of Good Housekeeping from the stack on the waiting room table, flipping it idly open on his lap. “Too bad I’m invested now.”

It was around three a.m. by the time Tony’s name was called. He was taken back and briefly examined before getting hooked up to an IV line for fluids and antiemetics. The doctor ordered some bloodwork to be sure, but said that all signs pointed to a virus. As soon as they could get the vomiting under control and Tony’s vitals stabilized, he should be good to go.

While Tony dozed in and out of consciousness on the ER bed, fluids dripping steadily into his arm, James just sat there, silently mulling the events of the last sixteen hours or so over in his mind. It was weird seeing Tony like this—weak, and small, and just so undeniably young.

James waited until the clock struck five before slipping quietly over to the phone located near the nurse’s station. This time, he dialed a different number—one he knew by heart.

A familiar voice answered on the third ring: “Hello?”

Instant warmth flooded James’ chest at the sound. “Hey Ma,” he said softly.

“James?” His mother’s tone changed from puzzled to concerned in two seconds flat. “It’s so early, baby. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Ma,” he assured, the corners of his lips turning up into the smallest of smiles. “Just wanted to catch you before you left for work.”

“Well, you got me,” she laughed lightly. Over the line, James could hear her bustling around the kitchen, pouring coffee into a mug. “What do you need, baby?”

James hesitated a second, his gaze shifting back in the direction of Tony’s bed. “It’s nothing, just… I wanted to ask if I could invite someone home for Thanksgiving next week.” He shifted his gaze back in the direction of Tony’s bed. “I get the feeling he could really use it...”

Link to all my fics

#sickfic #ironbros #tony stark whump #sick tony stark #mit era #rhodey is a good bro #tony stark needs a hug #teenage tony stark #mcu writing #my fic #vomiting

264 notes · View notes

collecting-stories · 4 years

Text

Enchanted - Gilbert Blythe

Request: Okay great! Can I request a Gilbert blythe x reader when they’re dating but then reader sees Anne and Gilbert having a friendly hug and she misinterprets it as something else and Gilbert tries to apologize. in the end they make up and it’s all fluff?

A/N: Based off Gilbert Blythe from the Netflix adaptation Anne With An E.

\\\

The train ride in from Toronto was both longer and shorter than you wanted it to be. Gilbert sat beside you, fiddling with the cufflinks on his jacket sleeves as the train jostled along toward Avonlea. There had been a ferry ride from Halifax as well. The summer was setting in and Gilbert had asked you to come to Avonlea with him to meet his business partner and housemate Bash and Bash’s daughter Delphine.

“Ever since my father died, they’ve been my family.” Gilbert had explained.

There were other people he had mentioned as well. Friends from school, Moody, Diana, a girl called Ruby who had been obsessed with him in her youth.

“I didn’t know it at the time, obviously, but Moody’s told me in great detail.” A whole anthology of his life had been shared with you since September.

And then there were the Cuthberts. He mentioned Marilla and her brother Matthew, both having been good to him when his father passed. But most of all he spoke of Anne. Close friends and rivals throughout their years together, she seemed to be the antidote to every story he told. The heroine in all his tales of the Island. And while you were excited to meet her, you would have been lying to say that you were also terrified. Who was this Anne and how could you compare to someone as magnanimous as her?

You weren’t sure if the knowledge that you would be staying with the Cuthberts made it worse or better. He had written to Anne to ask if you could board there for the summer while you visited him, a mark of a serious courtship surely, but still you couldn’t find yourself totally calm during the ride.

“Are the Cuthberts meeting us at the station?” You chanced to ask, realizing that you weren’t entirely sure what was going to happen once you arrived in Avonlea.

When Gilbert had asked you to come home with him for the summer you had been surprised and, though you hated to admit it, a tad bit reluctant. You and Gilbert had met through a friend of a friend way back in September at the beginning of the school. Both students from small towns who had excelled. Both formerly betrothed, though you more than he, who had rebelled against the prospect of a richer future in the interest of an educated, self-fulfilling future. A rather progressive woman, in action and speech more than trend, like so many of the women who had been present in his life before.

“I’m not entirely sure how I should go about this,” he had started, already proving himself to be clueless when it came to courting, “I’ve been to tea before and I’m sad to say I’ve forgotten all the rules.” The easy smile made up for his forgetfulness.

You could hardly remember either, getting lost in the romantic nature of his eyes that Ruby and Anne had both experienced in his early school days. “It’s quite alright, surely between the two of us we can navigate.”

And so you did. Navigate. Through the beginnings of a relationship and the beginning of college. It was odd, to find someone who so championed your education and put priority on the finishing of college before anything else. You expected him to treat the relationship casually then, just friends who knew that they liked each other. But he didn’t. He was serious about it and, as such, invited you to visit for the summer.

“I can’t wait for you to see Avonlea.” Gilbert mentioned, eyes fixed on the passing landscape.

“I’m looking forward to it.” And you were. Spending more time with Gilbert, seeing where he was from, meeting the people he considered part of his family. That all sounded spectacular to you.

The train arrived in Avonlea a short time later. Gilbert exited before you in search of the luggage.

“It’s never where they say it will be.”

You stood, waiting for him, on the platform. You’d taken plenty of trains in your lifetime but somehow stepping onto the platform in Avonlea felt different. It was as if you were a child again, riding for the first time, nervous of your surroundings and unsure who to ask for help. It was all very overwhelming and in an instant, the bustling crowd had seemed to swallow Gilbert up, his figure disappearing behind a cloud of smoke. You considered calling out to him. Should you chance him realizing that you were having the most pathetic of panic attacks.

Off to a good start in Avonlea.

Through the smog and the voices for the crowd your ears caught the distinctive sound of an accent, one native to an island, calling Gilbert’s name. You remembered his stories about his business partner and practical brother Bash and decided the Gilbert being called was yours. Heading through the smoke you arrived on the other side to find a small gathering of people, Gilbert at the front of them. You had come through in just enough time to see a young woman with long red hair hug him. A much friendlier hug then you would have expected someone to give, even with small town etiquette not being as reserved as the city.

But you recognized that redhead immediately, regardless of never having seen her before. It was Anne, it had to be. The Anne that Gilbert had talked about from school. The Anne that he corresponded with.

“Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry I was just coming to get you.” Gilbert’s hand at your wrist and his sincere apology carried you back to the reality of the platform. You were standing there, center of attention now.

“Quite alright.” You smiled, filing the uneasiness away for later. You would be upset when you were alone. Though would you truly be alone? You were to stay with Anne after all.

“Let me introduce you.” And just like that Gilbert was going through the odd, makeshift family that he had assembled. You were hugged by Anne as well, and nearly everyone else. Bash teased that there would be plenty of appraising done that night over dinner though you seemed to win him over quite easily when you offered to hold Delphine during the ride back to Gilbert’s farm.

Try as you might the carriage ride home filled you with dread. Even Delphine couldn’t distract you from the tortuous thoughts in your head. Had you come all this way to Prince Edward Island with Gilbert only to have him tell you he loved another. And what if he never told you, what if he just continued on, in some elaborate rouse where you were his intended (something he had made perfectly clear before proposing the idea of PEI) but he was thinking of someone else. Someone who had leagues more history with him than you could every accumulate.

The first stop, once the carriage had arrived outside of the Blythe family farm, was the tour. While Bash took Delphine inside Gilbert took you along the grounds. Your hand was tucked in the crook of his elbow as he walked you about, pointing out parts of the land and supplying humorous antidotes to accompany the visuals.

“And here Anne,” he began, telling the third story in a row that featured his redheaded best friend.

“You have a lot of stories about Anne.”

“I suppose so.”

“More than anyone else.” You continued on. You were no longer on the train platform or in the carriage. You wouldn’t stay a moment longer to be second fiddle to Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, however charming she had already proven herself to be.

“I...hadn’t noticed.”

“Well, unfortunately,” you took your hand back, here in the orchard grove, “I have. I didn’t come all the way from Toronto to be humiliated Gilbert.”

He looked rightfully confused. Everything until now had felt perfectly normal between the two of you. He’d hadn’t sensed the change in attitude, in fact it had come out of nowhere to hit him in the gut. “I don’t know what you mean?”

“Don’t you? I make a world of excuses for your correspondence with another woman, knowing how much Anne means to you but then we arrive here and it feels as if I've been making those excuses to myself as well. Have I? Am I so delusional to think that it’s only friendship you feel for her?” You confessed, thinking back to the hug at the platform. The way she had thrown her arms around him in excitement.

“Anne and I are just friends. I’ve told you that.” Gilbert replied.

“Why don’t I feel like that?”

“Avonlea is my home and the people here are my family. I love and care for them all deeply. And that’s why I wanted to bring you here. So you could know them too and so you could consider if, maybe, in the future, you could make Avonlea your home too. I love you, and I meant what I said before we came out here. I want a future with you, a family with you, and I want us to make a home. Here, if you could see yourself here.” Gilbert said, concern marring his features. Had he not been clear?

You crossed your arms and turned your head away, looking out passed the rolling fields of the farm. What could you say? You loved him too. The thought of starting a family with him here, on this island, was a wonderful thought and you wanted nothing more than to be part of his life.

“Once, when I was much younger, I admit I felt something toward Anne but we’re only friends. She’s been a big part of my life since she came to Avonlea and helped me become the person I am. A person who loves you. Who would never hurt you. Please, you have to believe me. Anne is my friend but you and I...you’re the person I imagine spending the rest of my life with.” Gilbert continued.

“I love you as well...I guess I’m just nervous to be here. To meet your family and friends and know them.” You admitted, looking back at him. Gilbert looked near heartbreak, his usual bright eyes a sad, drowning, blue.

“They love you already, trust me.”

“I really do like Anne...I think we would be great friends.” You had heard certain parts of her letters read allowed when he found bits funny or was reminded of something you might have said. You had thought that she sounded like she could become a good friend of yours, someone you could rely on here in Avonlea and you had looked forward to meeting. “I think I’m just so nervous I made myself jealous.”

“There is nothing to be jealous of.” Gilbert reassured. “Shall we finish the tour?”

“Please? I want to see everything before dinner.” You replied, taking the arm he offered once more. You looked back around the orchard one more time, “are we alone?”

“Bash is at the house with Delly.”

With that knowledge you leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Alright, show me the rest of this enchanted island.” You said, using Anne’s words from earlier. Enchanted. You imagined this summer would be.

I imagined this being done yesterday but my youngest sister decided to give me a minor panic attack and I spent most of the day freaking out when I meant to be writing.

#Gilbert Blythe x reader #Gilbert Blythe imagine #Gilbert Blythe fanfic #Gilbert Blythe fanfiction #AnnE imagine #AnnE fanfic #AnnE fanfiction #Anne with a e fanfic #Anne with an e fanfiction #Anne with an e imagine #collecting stories imagine

281 notes · View notes

farmhandler · 3 years

Text

Spoken, Not Said CH3

Rating: T (for now)

Pairing: Theseus/Asterius/Zagreus

Warnings: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Banter, Bickering, Theseus being Theseus, Slight spoilers, Touch-starved Zagreus

CH: 3/?

WC: 5K~

Read on AO3

Asterius is not in Asphodel.

They search the realm far and wide, but he is nowhere to be found. It’s clear—has been clear since the coliseum.

Asterius is not in Asphodel, which means he is in Tartarus.

The realization steals what little breath Theseus has left. Zagreus is quiet as they gather themselves at the center of one of the larger islands.

“I need only a moment to catch my breath,” he tells Zagreus. His body aches, but he can only imagine how Asterius must be suffering through torment after torment.

He seats himself on the coolest rock he can find (it is not particularly cool), too exhausted from the heat to muster enough energy to voice his frustrations at Zagreus. And Zagreus himself isn’t faring much better; a soft sheen of sweat coats his skin, pale and glistening.

“Tartarus isn’t so bad if you avoid the torture chambers,” Zagreus tells him, a pale attempt at humor. Theseus shoots him the dirtiest look he can manage.

“You would be all too familiar with them,” he bites.

“It’s the closest realm to the House. It wouldn’t be my first pick for a neighbor, but you’d have to take that up with my father.”

“Your father,” Theseus repeats evenly. “You still make that claim.”

“Do you really not believe me, after all this time?”

“You are nothing like him! He is the Lord residing over all of us, and you are a small, ungod-like god in comparison.”

“So you finally admit that I’m a god.” Zagreus moves to the other side of Theseus and kicks at a loose stone. He keeps shooting glances in a specific direction; Theseus can only assume that is where Tartarus lay. “You even said my name. I’m impressed you bothered to remember.”

“Asterius has mentioned it often enough,” Theseus says.

“He mentions me?” Zagreus asks, with such honest and sincere pleasure in his voice that Theseus finds himself suddenly seething.

“Only to remind me how easily it is to bring you down!” Theseus stands, then picks up his shield and spear. “Are you quite done wasting our time with your imagined friendship? We—”

“Asterius and I get along quite well, actually.”

“We,” Theseus continues, louder, “have another realm to explore. No thanks to your guidance!”

Zagreus doesn’t say anything for a time. When Theseus looks over, Zagreus is staring at him intently.

Theseus looks away. “Gaze upon me if you must. But when you are quite done, I’m certain Asterius would appreciate a quicker pace.”

“You know, I’m still trying to figure out what problem you have with me. Other than the obvious fact that we fight each other to the death every day, I try to remain at least civil during our interactions. You’re a king, aren’t you? Aren’t kings supposed to be, I don’t know, kind?”

“I am kind to those who deserve it!” Theseus defends. “I have been tasked with stopping you as many times as it takes. Would you expect me to be kind to a blackguard defying the rules of these undying realms?”

“You know it’s not that simple.” Zagreus walks up to him, stopping a few feet away, and Theseus lifts his chin. “Aren’t you going to ask me why? I know you’ve been dying to.”

“I do not care what drives you to do what you do, fiend,” Theseus lies. “I know my duty.”

“I am not a fiend,” Zagreus says hotly. “Nor am I a monster, and I’m not a daemon! I’m none of those things, and I’d appreciate it if you’d stop calling me by those names. I said I wouldn’t put up this attitude of yours and I mean it, Theseus.”

“What, have your feelings been hurt by my remarks? Ha!”

Zagreus’ supple lips form a soft frown. “Frankly, yes. Don’t you want the truth?”

I’m better than you. I’m more worthy than you.

“Don’t bother. It changes nothing,” he says vehemently.

“I—”

I’m going to get out of here, and when I do, I’ll have a good laugh with the gods about how pathetic you are.

“Asterius suffers whilst we wait!” Theseus exclaims. “We don’t have time to entertain another falsehood of yours!”

“I just want to see my mother,” Zagreus says then, so softly at first that Theseus isn’t sure he hears him correctly. His own intrusive thoughts come to a grinding halt.

“What was that?”

Zagreus looks down, then when he drags his eyes back up to Theseus, they shine with emotion.

“I just have a few minutes with her, every time. It takes me long enough to reach the place where she is, and then I—“ He turns his head away, speaking towards the lava on his right. “I demanded father let me see her. He refused, and so I have no choice. He forces us to fight. I have to kill my own father so I can see my mother, who didn’t even know I existed until a short while ago.”

“Your…mother?”

“Persephone.” Zagreus takes a breath, then meets Theseus’ eyes. “She’s wonderful. Kind and patient, but authoritative. Her garden is like nothing I’ve ever seen. Not that I’ve seen many gardens.”

Persephone. The Queen.

No, no, no. That isn’t right. That isn’t true. His own duty is noble; it is true.

“You are lying,” Theseus says waveringly.

“I’ve no reason to lie,” Zagreus says. “I don’t care if you believe me. It’s the truth. Though it would make things a little easier if you did.”

“If that is the truth, then why do we fight?” Theseus bursts. “The Queen, your mother, why does Lord Hades keep you away?”

“I think he’s protecting her somehow.” Zagreus combs his fingers through his hair and heaves a world-weary sigh. “In any case, we should get moving. You’re right; Asterius would appreciate a little haste.”

“I—Yes.” Theseus blinks rapidly, then adjust his grip on his weaponry and lifts his chin. “It is as I said. We must find Asterius, quickly. To Tartarus, then?”

“Yes, I suppose. As I said, it’s the realm closest to my father, so I am a bit wary. You know, it’s not too late for you to turn around and go back to Elysium. I’m sure I can find him on my own now.”

“As I would expect, an obvious attempt to undermine my friendship with Asterius. Nay, fie—you,” he finishes, stumbling somewhat. It is not that he cares what Zagreus thinks of his choice in words, but the pathetic expression on his face is impossible to ignore. Perhaps a modicum of kindness is due, but only just! “I will journey with you to your realm and save my friend! Perhaps you should return to provide a distraction for your Lord father.”

Zagreus snorts. “If I spoke with him for more than ten seconds, well, now that would be suspicious of me. No, we’ll go together, but—” he hesitates a moment "—I think it would be best if we split up when we get to Tartarus. The wretches there will be child’s play for the both of us, so you should be fine on your own. I need—if you need anything, call out to me and I’ll find you.”

Without waiting for him to reply, he starts walking. Theseus hesitates, still attempting to comprehend all that he’s learned in such a short while, but then eventually he follows Zagreus towards their next destination.

Though not before adding, “I should be saying that to you! Should you need my aid, speak my name and I will surely come to your rescue. Your untimely death wouldn’t help Asterius in this instance.”

“Right,” Zagreus says humorlessly. Theseus takes no notice of it. He continues to turn what Zagreus has revealed to him in his mind. It is well-known that the gods are vindictive and vengeful on those that deserve it, but Zagreus is… He is…

Don’t I deserve it? Don’t you hate me, King?

He presses his lips together and forges on ahead.

Tartarus is quite unlike anything Theseus had imagined it would be.

Perhaps it is the air which is cloying and clings to his throat like mud. Theseus catches himself swallowing and coughing mere minutes after entering the realm, whilst Zagreus appears unaffected.

“You live in this place?” he asks. Zagreus lifts his shoulders in a shrug and jogs a few paces ahead so he can trigger a trap in the ground that Theseus had hardly noticed. Since entering, there have been several of these. Crude mechanisms with spikes and metal. The shield-bearers in Elysium are far more appropriate for would-be attackers.

“It’s—”

Zagreus’ next words are cut off by a gut-wrenching scream from somewhere nearby. Theseus is immediately on guard, but Zagreus barely gives the direction of the noise more than a quick glance.

“You get used to it,” is what he finishes with, though to his credit he does appear discomforted by the noise. “I’m not sure how Meg and her sisters do the whole ‘torture poor unfortunate shades for eternity’ bit. The Furies,” he clarifies, at Theseus’ look of confusion. When Theseus continues to stare, he scratches his arm. “I suppose they’d be unfamiliar to you. I am acquainted with most of the people in this realm. Those that do the torture, I should say. Not the most pleasant job, but we don’t really discuss that at the House.”

Theseus cannot even begin to imagine what his home must look like. “Such a place of depravity it must be! You have been raised and nurtured in the depths of the Underworld; it is no wonder Lord Hades insists on preventing your escape to the surface.”

It is the only reasonable explanation.

It’s not the answer Zagreus is looking for. "You don’t understand.” He shakes his head. “You’ll never understand. We faced each other dozens of times, and not once did you ask yourself why. Darkness, you won’t even try. Theseus—”

He is interrupted by another horrific scream, followed by several others. Theseus does not flinch from the sound, but it is close. He can stand much worse, unsettling though it may be.

Shooting him a final look of contempt, Zagreus leads them wordlessly through more doorways and passages, on the lookout for any sign of Asterius. They are meant to divide their attention, but Theseus does not mind getting his bearings first, so he sticks to Zagreus’ side as they appear to circle the center of the place. When he inquires as to why they have not ventured in, Zagreus explains that there are renovations going on.

Theseus is unconvinced of the truth of what he says, but unless it involves Asterius, he is not concerned.

“Oh, Asterius,” Theseus mourns, quietly to himself. They have dispatched a fresh set of Tartaran shades and peered into chamber after chamber, but there is no sign of him. He listens for the sound of his voice or any indication he may be near, but there is nothing.

“What torture you must be under!” he cries, unable to contain himself. “It burns my very soul to think of you within these terrifying halls.”

“We haven’t heard him yet, so that’s good. He’s not being currently tortured in our vicinity,” Zagreus says. In the center of the room there is another Boon––this one Theseus does not recognize from before. Zagreus makes the sound in the back of his throat that Theseus can’t properly name.

“Haven’t had this one in a while.” Zagreus walks up to it, but then hesitates with his hand hovering over the Boon’s surface. “You know of lady Aphrodite, I’m sure,” he says to Theseus. “Goddess of love and desire, et cetera.”

“You insult me. Of course I am aware of our Lady! If there is a goddess worthy of praise, it is she. May we thank her for all the love in our lives. For that my love for Asterius never wanes!”

“You really are something else,” Zagreus says to him. His meaning is indeterminable, but Theseus isn’t concerned. He is more curious to see what gift Zagreus will be bestowed in this instance.

However, Zagreus doesn’t accept it immediately. He shifts uneasily from foot to foot, and opens his mouth again, only to shut it firmly. Puzzled, Theseus watches him squirm, assuming his hesitation is due to his upbringing. Certainly, love must be an unfamiliar feeling to such a wretched being. For a moment, he feels pity for Zagreus.

“Gods,” Zagreus says, as the Boon disappears. He shivers inexplicably. “None of the other Boons are like this. She told me—well, she informed me she was giving her Boon a bit of a boost. As long as we don’t run into anyone I know, we should be fine.”

“Explain yourself,” Theseus demands, not because he is curious, but only to be prepared for the worst.

Zagreus turns to him, and Theseus’ heart threatens to stop beating in his chest.

As with all of the Boons, nothing is different about his appearance, physically. His hair is the same, as are his lips, pursed in a subtle pout, and his eyes—

Theseus does not gasp, but it is a close thing.

Oh, gods, his eyes. How did he not realize what depths lie in his emerald gaze? It is a shining verdant green, and even the ruby red glow of his other iris is suddenly striking and remarkable.

“We should keep moving. I’m wondering if I can find Sisyphus around here; he might have an idea where Asterius would be.” He doesn’t seem to notice Theseus’ sudden silence, distracted by more screams and howls from tortured victims. “Did you know Sisyphus tied up Thanatos—that’s death himself—and that’s the reason he’s stuck pushing that boulder for eternity? Than is as unforgiving as ever. Still doesn’t forgive me for leaving. Not yet anyway.”

His lips. His beautiful, luscious, sinful lips. It seems as though they are always moving, always attempting to torment him.

“Theseus?”

The sound of his own name rings like a siren song. The sensation budding in his chest blooms.

His feet begin moving on their own, approaching Zagreus until he is close enough to touch.

“What are you doing?”

Zagreus backs away from him hastily, and nearly triggers the trap a second time. “Is this about the Boon? You don’t have to worry about that. It’s more potent, but it only affects people with whom I—” He clears his throat and straightens, schooling his expression. “You won’t have to worry about it. There has to be something there on both ends. If there’s nothing there, then there’s nothing…”

He trails off, distracted by the sight of Theseus lifting his hand. While he has been speaking, Theseus had been inching closer, the thundering of his heart urging him to bring himself as close as possible.

Zagreus flinches when Theseus’ hand comes close to his face, expecting him to strike, no doubt. But Theseus doesn’t strike him. He lays his palm over the side of Zagreus’ face, cupping his cheek in hand.

His skin so soft, just as he had imagined. Pale, yes, but pleasing to the touch.

Zagreus’ eyes are wide with shock, his breath hitched and shallow.

“Theseus,” he says, but Theseus is too overwhelmed with his sudden and intense emotions to answer. Theseus’ thumb swipes over the length of his cheekbone and Zagreus goes still. For a moment, Theseus vaguely wonders what he will do; how he will react.

And then he melts into his touch, and an unknown sound escapes Theseus’ throat.

Such handsome beauty. He is worthy of sculpture. Seeking a similar reaction to the touch of his right hand, he takes his left and lays it on Zagreus’ other cheek, now caressing him as he would on occasion with Asterius.

He takes a moment to revel in the warmth his touch brings, and that is when Zagreus speaks again.

“Theseus,” he breathes. Theseus remains where he is, so Zagreus licks his lips and says louder. “Theseus, I—Theseus. King. Theseus. Sir.”

At the unfamiliar title, seemingly all at once the truth of what he is doing slams into him. Horrified and ashamed, Theseus pushes him back.

“What are you doing!” he calls loudly, enunciating each word clearly and with precision.

“What am I—you came on to me!” Zagreus gapes at him, a flush high on his cheeks. “You—you touched me.”

“I wasn’t in control of myself! Your dark magic and hellborn nature have overtaken your feeble body. You may try to draw me in, but I will not fall prey!”

He can still recall the exact feeling of Zagreus’ breath ghosting hot over his wrist. The gentle way that he had called his name. Theseus.

“It was the Boon!” Zagreus exclaims, aggravated. Even in anger, he shines. “I told you less than five minutes ago how Aphrodite’s Boon affects the people around me. I just didn’t think…”

He looks at Theseus. His words sink in slowly.

“You’re attracted to me,” Zagreus says, at the same time that Theseus cries, “Fiend!!”

“The Boon doesn’t affect just anyone. She is the goddess of desire, so it stands to reason that she has the power to heighten any feelings of love, infatuation, or desire—”

“You lie! Vicious, Horrible lies! I would never love you!”

“Ouch,” Zagreus says with a small laugh. “You’re not the first to say that. Regardless, point being you feel something, or you wouldn’t have…” He trails off again, rubbing his cheek with his palm like he can still feel the ghost of Theseus’ hand. A feeling unlike any other wells up inside Theseus, threatening to overflow.

I must touch him again.

“Nobody’s touched me like that in forever,” Zagreus adds softly.

The chalice that’s holding all of Theseus’ feelings begins to spill over. He lets out an inhuman cry and storms off in the opposite direction to put some space between them. It is his proximity to Zagreus that must be the cause; if he can remove himself, he will be well again and of sound mind.

“Rid yourself of that Boon! Return it!”

“I can’t just return it! If I find another it can be replaced, but you’d be hard-pressed to find a god that won’t be upset if you try to return Boon they’ve graciously bestowed on you.” There is a long pause. “It would help if maybe you’d stop lying to yourself about how you feel for every little thing.”

Within the time he has spent staring at the opposite wall, the overwhelming feelings have dissipated some. Then, when he glances back at Zagreus, they begin to return.

“The only lies are your own,” he says heatedly. “I understand the need to find a lover to satisfy your own needs, but I suggest you find another!”

He hears Zagreus let out an exaggerated sigh. “I can’t believe I ever looked up to you. So much for the legendary King of Athens. So you’re attracted me, so what? I think you’re quite nice to look at, but I’m not having an existential crisis over it.”

“Blackguard, you—”

Theseus spins around to release his fury onto Zagreus, but movement behind him stops him short.

A giant, hulking wretch rises up from behind Zagreus and raises its arms. Theseus opens his mouth to warn him, but the words catching his throat. Thankfully, Zagreus sees the change in his face and raises his sword just as the lout swings downward. It’s attack sends Zagreus skidding backwards, but he holds strong and then defeats it with a few swings of his sword.

Relieved, Theseus takes hold of his shield and spear with the intention of making some sort of threat, when another voice sounds from the far end of the room.

“Zagreus?”

It’s the voice of a woman. Deep and smooth like nectar. Zagreus goes completely still when he hears it.

“…Hey, Meg.”

“Zagreus,” she repeats, just now noticing Theseus standing some feet away. Her eyes widen, then narrow, lips curling into a snarl. She growls, “What have you done?”

“It’s not what it looks like, I promise,” Zagreus tells her. “Well, it is, a bit, but not for the reasons you’d think.”

Theseus notices that she is wielding a fierce looking whip. She flicks it in their direction, and then pulls it taut.

“This is a new low, Zagreus. Dragging others into the mess you’ve made isn’t like you.”

“It’s for a good reason, I swear. We’re trying to find his friend Asterius. My father—”

“I’ve heard enough,” she rasps. She pulls the whip even tighter, lowering herself into a battle stance. “Don’t you dare try to explain yourself to me. I’m going to make this easy for all of us and send you both back to where you belong.”

“Not without Asterius!” Theseus cries, having had enough of remaining silent. A tormentor she may be, but he is the Champion of Elysium; he has faced worse. He has faced Zagreus at his most powerful and given him a good fight. Surely, he can take this one woman.

Her whip flies in his direction, faster than he can blink. He raises his shield, just barely defending himself against the attack. He hears Zagreus start running back towards Theseus—likely to create some space between him and this Meg—and he notes was some concern how the room that they are in is relatively small compared to others.

“Blood and darkness, this is what I was hoping to avoid,” Zagreus says in a hushed tone once he’s in range. “And now we’re in this tiny room with her and her very long whip.”

“I’ll take her on,” Theseus says, with fervor. He looks to Zagreus, and a protective fury overcomes him. “Stay behind my shield and you will be safe!”

“Your shield wouldn’t keep either of us safe. Not for long anyway. She’s—”

Whatever he is going to say is interrupted by the woman herself flying towards them at breakneck speed. Zagreus barely misses being struck by her whip, dashing out of her way and into the opposite direction.

Meg turns to Theseus. Her lips curl.

“From what I heard you hate Zagreus. Now you’re helping him?”

He doesn’t get a chance to answer. Her whip sails his way, and he’s forced to shield himself.

“I am here for Asterius and only Asterius! I insist–nay, I demand you tell me where he is!” He pauses, throwing his spear in her direction. “Tell me where you have put him!”

“I don’t even know who that is,” she says, and after that, talking becomes a moot point.

The woman—Meg—is incredibly quick on her feet. She is a vision of grace and beauty, and her movements are ferocious and unforgiving. Theseus’ shield absorbs the force of her whip countless times, but if she is quick, she is able to get behind him and strike him. At those times, thankfully, Zagreus is there to assist him—though he provides more of a distraction than anything.

“Again you attempt to slice me with your demonic sword!” Theseus snaps, when that exact event nearly occurs.

“Theseus, I can’t hit her if you’re in my way.”

“I have barely moved from the spot!”

“I’ve noticed that. Aren't you supposed to throw your spear?"

“Stop flirting,” Meg growls, and in mere moments she is upon them, wielding her whip with terrifying strength and aiming it at Zagreus. “I’ll go ahead and make this easy for both of you.”

Theseus dives in front of Zagreus, just-in-time for his shield to absorb the impact. He hears Meg scoff, and the sound of her footsteps begins to fade as she presumably backs away.

“That’s not good,” Zagreus tells him, crouching behind the shield. Much too close for comfort if Theseus were to be asked. His heart pounds loud enough to nearly drown out Zagreus’ next words. “She’s going to call on the forces in Tartarus. At this point, we’d be lucky if my father isn't already on his way to decimate the both of us. Darkness, I hope she doesn’t summon any brimstones.”

Theseus wants to touch him. He wants to—blast, that Boon.

His hand reaches back of its own volition and lands on Zagreus’ shoulder. He squeezes the muscle.

“We will defeat her and find Asterius. And if I am to die—”

Zagreus stops him with a hand over his. The contact is like pure electricity.

“You’ll live, King. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Wretches! To me!” They hear Meg call out. Almost immediately they begin to appear in numbers, summoned by her authority.

“This is going to get ugly,” Zagreus says. He eyes the brimstones with distaste. “You’ll need that shield.”

“As I am all too aware.” Theseus nods. “Once more you will receive my support. You may thank me later!”

Zagreus chuckles, and then he dashes into the first group of enemies while Theseus turns his attention to the brimstones aiming at Zagreus. Their enemies are hardly as strong as the weakest shades in Elysium, but with the Fury constantly at their backs, progress is slow.

Zagreus, meanwhile, is without shield, and so he moves with breathtaking speed. He is never still, swinging his sword to slaughter their enemy shades, alternating between fighting the shades coming in droves and fighting Meg.

Watching the two of them dance in battle, Theseus has an idea as to who will win. In any other battle, he is certain Zagreus would prevail, but with each dash and every quickstep taken to avoid the force of her whip, he can see his strength begin to flag. Zagreus has been fighting at Theseus’ side for much longer, and even he feels exhaustion weighing him down.

He attempts to assist, but Theseus’ own weaponry is easily deflected by her whip. Would that they had the time, and he was fresh from his chambers, not surrounded by brimstone’s and gigantic louts attempting to crush and pin them in a small space, their battle would be a different story.

Theseus grinds his teeth together.

Think, he tells himself. Were you with Asterius, what strategy would you employ?

Almost immediately the low tones of his voice echo in his head. It is far too easy to imagine his friend speaking to him, and he feels a pang at the thought of him.

What does she have that works in her favor?

That blasted whip. Zagreus’ exposed shoulder is decorated with scratches, and his tunic is torn in places.

Disable it. Find the means to take away her advantage if brute force is not an option.

After wiping the sweat from his brow, Theseus scans the length of the room while he takes out more wretches that appear. It reminds him of their fight in Asphodel, when he used his shield to propel him over the lava. If Asterius was with him, he could toss him in her direction and pin her.

You are fond of your shield, King, his imagined friend tells him. She will know this.

He thinks about the way she attacks them; how despite his restricted movement, making him an easier target, her aim is for Zagreus.

She is out for blood, he realizes. That is, it is more than just that Zagreus is in her way; it’s personal.

Theseus maneuvers into the center of the room, backing up against the pillar and trying to make himself as unnoticeable as possible. He cannot remove himself from her awareness, but if he can just find an opening…

Zagreus notices his position and hesitates for a split-second, falsely assuming he has been cornered. In that second, Meg sees his hesitation and lets out a low laugh.

“Go home, Zagreus.”

But before she can fully attack, Theseus bursts from around the pillar and heaves his upturned shield in at her like a disc. She startles, but dodges easily, as he expected.

He did not intend for the hit to land.

Theseus slams into her with his shoulder. She grunts, fingers digging into his skin as she fights against him. He has moments until she overpowers him; he is exhausted, and she is an incredibly powerful foe nonetheless. Still, moments are all he needs.

With one arm still free and holding onto his spear, he stabs at her whip and catches it under the pointed tip. Then he proceeds to wind it quickly around his spear. Once he has a good grip on it, he flings it away from her direction against the opposite wall.

“What are you doing," she hisses, grasping even more wildly. “You’ll be punished for this. Hades will find out. You know this.”

Theseus does not deign to reply. After all, there is nothing to say.

“Tell me where Asterius is, Meg,” Zagreus says, holding the tip of his sword at her throat. She relaxes in Theseus’ hold, and when he releases her, she slides to the ground in defeat, though the fire in her eyes never abates. "Now, if you would, please."

“I can’t do that Zagreus, because I don’t know who that is.”

“We’re looking for the Minotaur. Bull of Minos. Surely you’ve heard of him.”

Her eyes widen, and then she laughs, long and low and dangerous.

“I don’t know where you heard that the Minotaur would be here, but he’s not. You’re wasting your time.”

“Then where is he!?” Theseus bursts, sounding too close to a whine for his liking. “If Asterius is not here, then I demand you tell me where he is.”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” she says, barely sparing him a glance. She lifts her chin at Zagreus. “This is probably the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, Zagreus. I hope you're happy. Now: Either you kill me, or I’ll kill you.”

Zagreus raises his sword. “I’m sorry, Meg.”

#hades #thesezag #burgerking #hades fic #my fic #fic #theseus #asterius #heyyyyyyyyyyyyyy #ch3

18 notes · View notes

beybladefanfictions · 3 years

Text

Ryuga’s Return - Chapter 3

(Description: AU where Ryuga survives Metal Fury but loses L-Drago. He reunites with Kenta and struggles to figure out what he’s supposed to do without Beyblade, his purpose in life for so long. Character’s thoughts are in asteriks.)

Ryuga's POV

*Why am I doing this?* Ryuga wondered as he followed Kenta down the sidewalk. Kenta had somehow managed to talk Ryuga into going to meet his parents, mostly because Ryuga couldn’t think of an excuse not to. He didn’t want to but Kenta clearly wanted him to, for whatever reason. Ryuga couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. The fiercest Beyblade battles and harshest environments had no effect on him yet the idea of talking to people, especially people he didn’t know, made his stomach knot. It just wasn’t something he was very used to.

Ryuga never really had anyone to talk to regularly until Kenta came along and Kenta was almost always the one to initiate the conversation. Meanwhile, Ryuga was content with silence and didn’t get why Kenta talked so much. It was necessary sometimes, sure. However, other times Kenta would just talk at him for no reason about such random things. Ryuga always wondered why he did that. He had seemingly gotten his answer earlier that day, when Kenta mentioned wanting to “socialize” with his friends. Apparently, that was something friends did and Kenta was his friend now.

“Here we are!” Kenta’s voice shook Ryuga from his thoughts.

He looked up. Kenta was pointing at a fairly nice looking house with a flat roof and pots of plants decorating the front porch. Ryuga froze. Kenta continued on, then stopped and looked back at him.

“Ryuga?” He gazed at him expectantly.

Ryuga took a deep breath. With some reluctance, he stepped up to stand beside Kenta. He gazed at the ground.

“Are you okay?” Kenta asked, looking up at Ryuga with concern in his eyes.

Ryuga met his gaze coldly. “I’m fine. What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” Kenta sighed, looking away.

He stepped in front of the door and knocked. Moments later, a green-haired woman, who was noticeably shorter than Ryuga, answered the door.

"Hey, mom,” Kenta greeted with a wave.

"Oh my goodness!” the woman exclaimed, her eyes wide as she stared at Kenta and Ryuga. “What happened to you two?!"

"Long battle," Kenta answered, shrugging.

"Against each other?!"

"Well…” Kenta looked up at Ryuga. “We battled too… before Nemesis."

"It didn't last long," Ryuga replied with a smirk.

"Hey!" Kenta glared up at Ryuga, pouting like a child.

"So this is Ryuga then?"

Ryuga stiffened when Kenta’s mother said his name.

Kenta nodded. "Yeah."

"Well, nice to meet you,” his mother replied, nodding to Ryuga. “How do you know Kenta?"

"We travelled together," Ryuga answered swiftly.

"Just the two of you?" The woman looked back at Kenta, raising an eyebrow.

"I er, it's a long story…” Kenta rubbed the back of his neck. “But-but I wasn't alone for long! Ryuga kept us both safe."

Kenta grabbed Ryuga’s arm, gazing up at him with an almost desperate look in his eyes. Ryuga looked back at Kenta’s mom.

“Yes… I did,” he answered, hoping that was what Kenta had wanted him to do.

"Well, thank you.” Kenta’s mother smiled. She took a step back, pulling the door open and ushering them inside. “Here, come in, both of you. You two must be starving."

"Yes! Very!" Kenta answered, hopping up the step into the house.

Ryuga followed, instantly feeling confined in the small space. It wasn’t even a small house. There was space to walk around but it was nothing compared to the infinite space of the outdoors or even the huge Bey stadiums. This house however almost made Ryuga feel smaller.

"Well, there's plenty of sushi on the table,” Kenta’s mother was saying to Kenta. She turned to Ryuga. “There should be enough for you too, Ryuga."

*Sushi? As in food?!* Ryuga hadn’t realized he was hungry until the idea of food was brought up. Now he realized he was starving. He looked at the kitchen. A green-haired man was sitting at the table, reading a book. He looked up at Kenta.

"Hey, kiddo!" he greeted, with a smile.

"Hi, dad!" Kenta rushed over to his dad and threw his arms around him in a hug.

"How was your trip?" His dad asked.

"Really exhausting,” Kenta admitted, stepping out of the hug. “I'm glad to be home, and with food!"

He sat at the table, immediately reaching for the tray of sushi and grabbing three pieces. He placed them on a smaller plate.

"Ryuga, want some of this sushi?" Kenta asked, looking up at him and holding up a piece of sushi.

Ryuga froze. Everyone’s eyes were suddenly on him, which he would be used to in a stadium, but this wasn’t a stadium. It was the furthest thing from a Bey stadium.

"Ryuga, huh?” Kenta's dad didn’t even sound shocked. “Wow, Kenta really can make friends with anyone."

"You've heard of me then,” Ryuga muttered. He took a seat next to Kenta, across the table from Kenta’s parents.

"Sure, a while ago,” Kenta’s dad answered with a shrug. “How'd you and Kenta end up friends?"

Ryuga stared down at the table. "Long story."

"We can listen," Kenta's mom insisted gently.

Ryuga tapped Kenta’s shoulder. "Kenta, you tell them."

"Huh?” Kenta had been busy stuffing his face with sushi. “Oh, okay.” He turned to his parents. “I was with Gingka and the others on the journey to find the Legendary Bladers and defeat Nemesis…"

Ryuga zoned out as Kenta recounted the events of his travels. He glanced at the sushi tray. He was hungry, but the food looked so… Weird. Ryuga wasn't a picky eater, he was willing to eat whatever he could find, but he rarely ate processed food like this. However, he wasn’t dumb enough to deny food when it was right there in front of him. So he grabbed one of the rolls and took a bite. *What is this supposed to be?!* Ryuga could barely make out any individual ingredients, though he was pretty sure he tasted fish. He wasn’t sure if he liked it but he was hungry enough to eat it without thinking.

"So I ended up travelling with him for months and somewhere along the way we became friends," Kenta had just finished his story before taking a bite of his sushi.

"So you're homeless then?" Kenta’s mom asked, turning to Ryuga.

"You couldn't tell?" Ryuga asked, letting out a dry laugh. He hadn’t thought about it until now, but he probably looked like just as much of a wreck as Kenta did.

"Don't you have a family somewhere?" Kenta’s dad asked, tilting his head to the side.

"No."

"Oh…" Kenta’s parents turned to each other, their eyes wide. Ryuga growled. They were pitying him, he could tell.

Kenta’s dad turned to him. "Well, you can always come here if you need to, kiddo. Any friend of Kenta's is welcome."

Ryuga stiffened. *'Kiddo?!' Did he just call me 'kiddo?!'* He didn't know how to respond so he just turned his attention to his food.

"Thanks, Dad,” Kenta replied for him, “Um Ryuga…” Kenta turned to him. “Where are you going to go after this?"

"I'll figure it out,” Ryuga muttered, grabbing another roll of sushi. He briefly wondered if Kenta’s parents would get mad at him if he ate too much of their food.

"Do you want some water with that, kiddo?" Kenta’s mother asked.

Ryuga’s fist clenched around his sushi, smashing it to pieces. He glared at Kenta’s parents.

"Stop calling me that,” he growled, “I'm not a kid."

“Yes, you are." Kenta’s mother didn’t even hesitate in her reply.

Ryuga was going to retort but Kenta cut him off. “How old are you anyway, Ryuga?" he asked.

Ryuga actually had to think about it for a moment.

"Seventeen."

Kenta smiled. "Oh, so you're six years older than me. Cool."

Ryuga nearly choked on his sushi.

"You're eleven?!"

"Yes?!” Kenta suddenly stiffened. “How old did you think I was?!"

"Eight."

"What?!” Kenta gasped, nearly falling over. “Am I really that short?!"

"Yes." Ryuga couldn’t help but smile a bit at Kenta’s over the top reaction.

"Kenta, don't worry," his mother cut in. "You'll grow soon enough."

"I was still short when I was your age,” his father added, “Don't worry about it too much, kiddo."

"Okay, okay. Eight years old…" Kenta muttered as he took another bite of sushi.

*They call him a kid too…* Kenta's parents clearly saw no difference between Ryuga and Kenta, the latter of whom was obviously a kid. However, Ryuga didn't feel like a kid. He had been living on his own for years and everyone, regardless of their age, feared him. Yet Kenta's parents didn't. Were they crazy?

*Why are they acting so welcoming towards me when they know what I've done?!* Ryuga cast a glance at Kenta. Understanding stirred within him: of course they act like this, they're his parents, after all. What else should Ryuga have expected? After eating a few more pieces of sushi, Ryuga stood up and took a step back. He glanced at Kenta’s parents. *Am… I supposed to thank them?*

“Thanks…” Ryuga muttered. “For the food."

Kenta’s mother nodded and replied, "Oh, it was no problem, sweetie.” Ryuga let out a growl. *That's worse than 'kiddo!'* “Just let us know if you need anything else.”

“Somewhere I can be alone?" Ryuga blurted out without thinking. However, he meant it. He was already getting sick and tired of Kenta’s parents and could barely keep his anger under control.

“Um…” Kenta’s dad looked at something in the living room. “The basement is mostly empty." He pointed to a door near the front one, but leading to the side.

*What’s a basement?* Ryuga bit back the question. He didn’t care enough to subject himself to any more meaningless conversation.

“That'll suffice,” Ryuga replied, making his way toward the basement.

He pushed the door open and descended down the flight of stairs and into the darkness. Ryuga sat on the floor with a sigh. He had barely known Kenta’s parents for twenty minutes and they were already doting on him as if he was their own son. *Me… the former Dragon Emperor, reduced to this pathetic husk.*

His thoughts had wandered back to L-Drago almost immediately. Ryuga’s heart ached. It wasn’t just about L-Drago’s power, though Ryuga couldn’t deny that was certainly part of it. His status had been reduced greatly. However, more importantly to him, Ryuga lost his spark. Beyblade had defined his entire life and all of a sudden, it had been taken away from him and he had been thrown into a completely new situation that he had no idea how to handle. It all felt so… empty. With Beyblade gone, there was a void in Ryuga's life that he couldn't imagine filling.

Ryuga was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of a door creaking open. He stood up.

"I thought I said I wanted to be alone?!" he snapped, staring at the foot of the stairs. The lights suddenly turned on, making Ryuga shield his eyes with his arm.

“Ryuga, it's me," Kenta’s voice replied from up the stairs.

Ryuga froze. “...What do you want?"

Moments later, Kenta appeared at the foot of the stairs, his gaze fixed on Ryuga.

“They don't mean it in a mean way, you know." Kenta’s tone was blunt, almost emotionless.

"Huh? Ryuga raised an eyebrow.

"My parents… calling you 'kiddo.' I know you probably think that they look down on you, but they're just trying to be nice."

“Whatever," Ryuga grunted, looking away.

"Ryuga?" Kenta let out a growl. "I can't take this anymore!" Ryuga stiffened as Kenta started yelling. "Ryuga, tell me what’s wrong!” he demanded, stomping his foot into the ground.

Ryuga staggered back.

“What?!” he gasped. *How did he know?!*

“You’ve been upset all day! What’s wrong?!” Kenta demanded, marching toward him. His eyes were blazing with anger though Ryuga sensed concern in his tone as well.

“I’m always upset!”

“Not like this! You’re sad about something, I can tell!”

“No, I’m not!” Ryuga clenched his fists, trying to stop himself from shaking. *I don’t want to talk about this!*

“Is this about L-Drago?”

“That’s none of your business!” Ryuga answered a bit too quickly.

Kenta let out a sigh, suddenly becoming less tense.

“It is, isn’t it?” he asked, taking a step back. “You miss your Beyblade and don’t want to replace it, so you don’t even want to Beyblade anymore.”

Ryuga froze. *How did he figure that out so quickly?!* Kenta stared at him with wide eyes, clearly realizing he had hit a nerve.

“Leave me alone,” Ryuga grunted, sitting down against the wall. His anger had dissolved, leaving him completely drained.

“No!” Kenta insisted. “You shouldn’t be alone right now! You should have a friend supporting you and that’s what I’ll do!” Kenta sat next to Ryuga, clinging to his arm.

“You can’t do anything about this, Kenta,” Ryuga muttered, his gaze fixed on the ground. “Don’t waste your effort.”

“It’s true, I can’t bring back L-Drago, but I’ll listen to you. It can help to talk about how you feel.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Ryuga pushed Kenta away.

“At least try!” Kenta insisted. He sat across from Ryuga now, gazing intently as he waited for a response.

Ryuga let out a sigh, staring down at the ground. “You don’t get it, Kenta. Beyblade was my entire reason for being alive, it’s one of the only things I care about.”

“What's the other thing?”

Ryuga met Kenta’s gaze. *You should know the answer to that.*

“Oh…” Kenta rested his hand on his chest, his eyes watering slightly.

“What am I supposed to do… without Beyblade?”

“Well… what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know!” Ryuga stopped when he realized he had raised his voice. Kenta stared at him with wide eyes. “I’ve never wanted to do anything but Beyblade…” Ryuga continued, lowering his voice again.

“Maybe you could still Beyblade,” Kenta suggested, scooting forward a bit. “I know it’s not L-Drago, but Flash Sagittario’s power was originally yours, maybe-”

“No.”

“Huh?”

Ryuga dipped his head. During their travels, Kenta had gone on and on about how he felt cast aside and ignored by his friends for not being a Legendary Blader. Kenta probably didn’t think Ryuga had paid any attention, but he had. He needed Kenta to know that he was worthy of the power Ryuga had given him.

“The power in Sagittario is yours now… and I don’t regret giving it to you.”

“R-Ryuga…” Kenta’s eyes watered. “But-but L-Drago-”

“Was full of stolen power,” Ryuga cut him off. He looked away, his jaw clenched, “I never changed after overcoming the dark power. I let my greed consume me just like those stupid Americans did.”

"Ryuga…?" Kenta stared at him in disbelief.

Ryuga noticed himself trembling as he went on, “I was the most powerful Blader, I was respected, or feared. What am I now? Who am I without Beyblade?!"

Ryuga’s voice descended into a cry. He turned away, disgusted at himself for showing such weakness. Kenta threw himself at Ryuga, wrapping his arms around him. Ryuga stiffened. A single tear streamed down his face.

“I can’t answer those questions…” Kenta murmured, “But I want to help you.”

Ryuga was suddenly overwhelmed by appreciation for his friend. Shifting in place, he put his arms gently around Kenta, careful not to crush the smaller boy. He leaned forward to rest his chin on Kenta's shoulder.

“You’re already helping me.” Ryuga’s voice came out shaky, almost like a sob.

He had never allowed anyone to so much as witness him during a moment of weakness like this. However, Ryuga knew he could trust Kenta. The two of them stayed in the hug for a few more breaths before Ryuga let go. Kenta scooted back, dipping his head.

“Kenta…” Ryuga sighed. Kenta met his gaze as he spoke, “I’ve been sticking with you because I don't see the point in travelling on my own anymore."

Kenta just nodded, as if his suspicion had been confirmed.

“I…” Ryuga hesitated. He reflected for a moment longer before continuing, “I want to stay with you and your family, until I figure out what to do with myself.”

Out loud, the idea sounded even crazier. However, if Ryuga really couldn’t Beyblade again, he wanted to stay with the one person whose company he valued.

“R-Ryuga…” Kenta stared at him in disbelief. “You don’t have to do that. I know you hate it here.”

Ryuga raised an eyebrow. “When did I say that?”

“You never said it… but I’m not blind, I could tell you were uncomfortable around my parents.”

“They were patronizing,” Ryuga grunted. “But… I can learn to deal with it. After all, I won’t be staying here forever.”

Kenta grabbed Ryuga’s arm, pulling him into a side hug.

“When you do leave, do you promise to visit?” he asked, gazing up at Ryuga with those dreaded puppy dog eyes.

“Yes, of course,” Ryuga grunted, attempting to get his arm free.

Kenta let go, smiling. “Okay…” His smile suddenly faded and his gaze dropped to the floor. “Um, Ryuga… I had a question.”

“What is it?” Ryuga asked, suddenly concerned.

“Everyone keeps telling me… that you gave me your star fragment because you respect me. Do you… respect me?”

Ryuga let out a sigh. *So he’s going to make me explain.*

“Kenta, I’ve always respected you.”

“Wha- huh?!” Kenta staggered back, as if a gust of wind had knocked him backwards.

“The problem wasn’t you, it was my delusion.” Ryuga dipped his head as he explained.

“You… you really mean it.” Kenta’s eyes watered. “Ry-Ryuga…” His voice came out in a sob.

Ryuga stiffened. “No, please don’t.”

Kenta wiped the beginnings of a tear away.

“I’m fine, I’m fine…” Kenta insisted, and Ryuga noticed that the kid was smiling. “I just didn’t realize you cared so much.”

Ryuga bit his lip. The idea of caring about someone still seemed so weird to him. However, he also felt a twinge of guilt. He didn’t want Kenta to think he didn’t care and he definitely didn’t want him to cry.

*Weak…* Ryuga instantly pushed the thought away. Kenta cared for his friends and he absolutely wasn’t weak. His love for his friends had driven him to follow Ryuga through the brutal wilderness and in turn, pushed him into becoming a stronger Beyblader. *Caring about his friends didn't make him weak and caring about Kenta doesn’t make me weak either.*

“Hey, you should let my parents know you want to stay.” Kenta’s voice pulled Ryuga out of his thoughts.

“I should?” Ryuga asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah.” Kenta chuckled a bit. “They gotta know.”

“W-why do I have to tell them?” Ryuga asked, backing up a bit. “Can’t you?”

“You’re the one who wants to stay…” Kenta stared at him for a moment. “Are you scared?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Scared?!” Ryuga bristled with rage. “No, I'm not scared!”

“It’s fine if you are, you know. I get that this is probably all really new to you.”

Ryuga stiffened. “Why do you know me so well?”

Kenta smiled. “We travelled for months together, Ryuga. I was bound to pick up on some things.”

Ryuga let out a sigh as he stood up. “Well, come on. If I’m doing this, you’re coming with me.”

“Um…”

“I don’t need you to say anything,” Ryuga grunted, rolling his eyes. “Just having you with me is enough.”

“Oh… okay.” Kenta nodded and stood up.

The two of them walked up the stairs side by side. Kenta pulled the door open. Ryuga glanced in the living room to see that both of Kenta’s parents were in the room, sitting on the couch and staring at small screens. Closing the door behind him, Ryuga took a few steps into the room. He cleared his throat. Kenta’s parents turned to look at him, their gazes lighting up.

“Oh, hello Kenta, Ryuga,” Kenta’s dad greeted, “Did you need something?”

“Actually…” Ryuga took another step forward. “Yes…”

“What is it?” Kenta’s mother asked.

Ryuga found himself shaking as he forced himself to speak. “Since… I have nowhere else to go and Kenta is my friend… I was…” Ryuga froze. *This is harder than I thought it would be!* “I was wondering if I… if I could…” *Just spit it out!* “Can I stay here? For-for a while at least?” Ryuga facepalmed. *I sound like such an idiot!*

Kenta's parents turned to each other, their faces lighting up. Ryuga’s jaw clenched. *Have I just given them exactly what they wanted?!*

“Of course!” Kenta’s mother was beaming as she spoke. “You can stay here as long as you need to, sweetie. It’s not a bother.”

*Apparently, I have.*

“Right…” Ryuga dipped his head, biting his lip. “Thanks…”

“Something the matter?” Kenta’s mom asked, tilting her head to the side.

Ryuga glared at them. *I've barely told Kenta this stuff. I'm not telling people I barely know, even if they are Kenta's parents.*

"Nothing important." Ryuga gestured to Kenta, silently praying he would change the subject, or give them an excuse to leave. Something. Anything. Why was talking to people so awkward?!

"Oh, uh…” Kenta looked up at him. “Ryuga, since you're staying here, you'll need a place to sleep. I could make space in my room."

"There's already space in the living room," Kenta’s dad suggested, gesturing to the space in front of the couch.

"What about the basement?" Ryuga suggested.

"The basement?" Kenta's mom glanced at him.

"It's quiet down there.”

Ryuga hadn’t taken the time to appreciate it, but the basement was the only room in this whole house that didn’t feel crowded. There was room to walk around and like he said, it was quiet.

"Well…" Kenta's dad looked somewhat doubtful. "Okay. We can set up a mattress for you in the basement."

Ryuga took a step back. "No, it's fine," he insisted, bristling defensively. "This is only temporary…” *Please stop doting on me.*

Kenta's mother stood up. "Temporary or not, we're not letting you sleep on the floor." Her tone was firm but not exactly angry.

"Why not?" Ryuga scoffed. *I do it all the time. What's the big deal?*

However, Kenta's parents didn't answer. They were already on their way to get the mattress they promised. Ryuga turned to Kenta.

"Your parents are weird.”

"Well, what did you expect?" Kenta asked with a smile.

Ryuga shrugged. “Nothing less."

He rested his hand on Kenta's head, smiling as he ruffled his hair. Kenta yelped in surprise. However, he didn’t move away. Ryuga smiled. Without L-Drago, Ryuga still wasn't even fully sure who he was, though he supposed "Kenta's friend" was a start.

(Author's Note: And that's the end. A lot of my fanfictions lately have been pretty short but this seemed like the most appropriate way to end it since Ryuga's inner conflict has been somewhat resolved and I wanted to leave the characters’ futures up to interpretation. Still, this was a really fun one to write.)

#beyblade #beyblade metal fight #beyblade metal saga #beyblade metal fury #fanfictions #ryuga #kenta yumiya #ryuga kishatu #more like Ryuga Yumiya #cause Kenta's parents wanted to adopt him on sight #whether they actually adopt him or not is up to the readers though #angst #hurt and comfort #platonic hurt and comfort #is that a thing?#because that's what this is #I enjoy the writing life

9 notes · View notes

hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall · 4 years

Text

Nothings ever what it seems

Bucky Barnes x Reader AU

Summary: Sometimes how we see things by our own eyes are not how things really are. This a journey of how you should never judge people by what you see.

Warnings: Swearing, bullies, parent’s death, mention of death, depression, lots of angst, but a happy ending.

A/N: This is my little entry for @mermaidxatxheart 500 followers challenge, but I’m pretty sure it doubled by now ;) It’s really emotional and kind of triggering stuff so if you do not feel like reading PLEASE DON’T. But I am very happy about this piece as I always wanted to write something about bullies, as it’s a personal thing for me. I hope you will enjoy it <3

oh and let me tag @idjitmonkey, I hope you don’t mind, but you wanted to have a read at that, so here it is <3

Word Count: 4300+ (wow, sorry)

There are people who loved high school. All the sports teams, cheerleading, friendships that would pathetically last forever. First ‘real’ relationships, sex drive and partying. Oh, and the prom, homecoming and all the shitty things all the girl were so happy about. All those people loved High School. But you were not one of them.

You hated it so much. Every memory you had about this time of your life was filled with sadness, anger or anxiety. You hated everything associated with High School. You never went to any sports events, didn’t care about cheerleading or who is dating who. You couldn’t give less of a shit about fashion, make-up or the parties. Those years were a nightmare for you.

As a shy girl that focused her attention on studying, books and all the ‘lame’ clubs (like history and literature) you were one of the first to be bullied. You tried your best not to show that it affected you, hoping that they would give up eventually. Of course, being a poor kid in a school fool of rich assholes wasn’t helping. You weren’t dressing like them, weren’t talking the same language. You never went out, not to mention that you never had a taste of alcohol or went on a date.

All you ever cared about was your education and all those part-time jobs you started to get when you finally turned 16. You needed the money more than all those stupid parties. Despite having a full-paid scholarship for your school there were still expenses that needed to be covered. Like your dad chemotherapy. Despite him trying to hide all the expenses from you, you knew how much money went into that and how little savings he had. All the money went on you, and you decided that as soon as you turn 16 you will work for yourself. And so you did. After the first year of high school, you gave up on all the clubs and took three part-time jobs. You slept around 4 hours with an extra two on Sundays, but you managed somehow.

Your dad was pissed when he found out that you gave up your young, high school life for him, but he was never more proud of you. You cherished those little moments you had with him. You always gave him the stories you wrote and he gave you the best feedback. You told him some made-up stories of your amazing highschool and friends you had. He didn’t need to know how lonely you were. Nor about the bullies, that seemed to love making your life even a more of a living hell.

HYDRA. That’s what they called themselves. Bunch of guys (and girls) that would start their life by taking all the lunch money from the kids. When they found out you had no actual money they made sure to destroy you mentally. During lunches they would always accidentally tipped their drinks on you, leaving you with dirty and soaked clothes until the end of the day.

But this you could survive. From time to time Steve Rogers and his gang would step up and defend the weak. A captain of the football team and the smartest guy in school has never looked down on you. But he was also from a rich family, that should ‘keep their level’ which means he would never even consider being friends with someone like you.

But there was him. James Buchanan ‘call me Bucky’ Barnes. From what the rumours said he was friends with Rumlow - the head of HYDRA gang - since primary school, but before high school they got into a huge fight. And now became the biggest enemies.

“You ok?” He once asked you, those grey-ish eyes that would hunt you till your last breath - gazed at you. He was the first person that treated you like a human being in this school and your stupid teenage heart decided to fall for him. For someone, you could never have. Someone that was from an entire world. A place where he could happily be a high schooler, a playboy and the most charming boy you ever met. All he needed was just a simple smile and all the girls would give themselves to him. The bad boy looks mixed with a kind heart.

If you wouldn’t be so tired and focused on school and work, you would probably be apart of this group of girls secretly hoping he would ask them out. But you weren’t. So despite trying to make things better, you - the world's biggest disaster - just growled, took your backpack and left with no words spoken to anyone.

The Avengers, as HYDRA called them, weren’t too happy about how you treated their kindness. Natasha Romanoff, a daughter of ahead of the police, cornered you in the bathroom once and made very clear that next time someone saves your sorry ass you thank them.

And that’s how you went on with your life. Having two biggest, most influential gangs in high school hating you. Sometimes you would catch Barnes (you would never call him any other than his last name) glancing at you, smirk under his nose.

So your life continued. It was cruel and tiring but a least you had your dad to make it work. It was him to beg you to go to at least your prom if you missed the homecoming. (you told him you weren’t feeling good). He even bought you a dress online. So when the day came you got yourself ready and was about to head to show yourself all fancy looking to your dad, when you got a phone call from a doctor to come to the hospital as your father was feeling worse.

And this was when your life changed completely. There you were in this ridiculously beautiful dress, watching your dad’s heart stop beating before you were able to show yourself to him. Your world ended that day. At the age of 18, you were left alone in this world. With an enormous bill to pay and an acceptance letter for the NY University. On this day, you closed yourself even more. You didn’t even care about all those mean words from Rumlow or the little smirks and looks from Barnes. You focused completely on studying and surviving. You sold the house your dad still had hoped to keep and with the money you had from it you rented a small apartment outside of NY. An hour and a half drive altogether, but at least something you were able to afford.

When you got that acceptance letter, you promised yourself that your life will change. You will be a better person and actually enjoy uni, even if you would have to work twice as much. You wanted to do it for him. Your dad. But now that he was gone, you had no reason. So before the Uni started you were able to find yourself two surprisingly well-paid jobs.

Journalism was always something you wanted to do. A little dream in the back of your head. Something your dad always encouraged you to do. And now that you were finally about to start your year at your dream Uni, there was nothing that would stop you. At least that’s what you thought. Until your first introduction class to WW2 you decided to take, as you always loved history.

“Well isn’t this Mrs Trouble-maker?” You froze hearing the familiar voice of the man who once helped you. You looked up from the book you were reading while waiting for the class to start. “Of course front table.” He chuckled and smirked at you. The same damn smirk that was hunting you since that day. His hair was a bit longer and he seemed to spend a bit of time at the gym during summer. His eyes, however, were as beautiful as they have always been.

“Barnes…” You whispered, closing your book and looking up at him. “I didn’t know you were going to NY.”

“She speaks!” He laughed, turning towards Steve who just walked in. He nodded his head as a way to say hi and sighed at his best friend. “Year of having classes together and you never spoke to me directly.”

“Buck”, Rogers growled, when the room started to fill.

“You ok, if I sit here?” Your frowned, when he showed to the seat next to you. You shrugged and turned towards the front of the class when the professor walked in. You tried to focus on the class, ignoring the little glances Barnes was sending towards you.

You were more than relieved not to see him in any of your journalism classes. Apparently, it was just this one you both shared. Through the whole summer, you hoped you will never see the people from high school ever again. You hoped this part of your life was over. You could move on. As pathetically as you do it, just move on.

“Miss Trouble-maker!” You cursed under your nose, wondering why gods hate you. “I didn’t know you work here.” A small cafe place was paying quite good money as it was normally visited by rich folks that didn’t mind spending 24 dollars on a stupid latte.

“What can I get you?” You asked trying to stay as professional as possible. You even gave him one of your fake smiles.

“Oi, Stevie, Natasha, look who I found!” You felt shivers down your spine hearing her name. Oh, Barnes was annoying, while Romanoff was just frightening. And of course, she looked even more beautiful after summer. Her always short hair grew longer. And not to mention that she has probably lost some kilos as well. If that was even physically possible.

“Y/L/N”, she greeted you with a grin and you welcomed them as they would be every other customer. “I heard you got into NYU…” Oh, how you hated small talk, especially when there was a line of customers started to appear.

“I’m sorry but the line is getting bigger. Can I help you with your choice today?” You really tried to sound as nice and polite as possible.

“It’s not very polite to not answer someone’s question”, she hissed and narrowed her eyes at you.

“Is something wrong.” You froze hearing the voice of your boss. The biggest chauvinistic, rich boy of an asshole you ever met. He was not much older than you, but because he got rich daddy he became a manager of his own coffee place right after uni. “Y/N the line is getting bigger.” He growled at you angrily. Oh, and of course he hated you. Especially after you declined his offer for a date about four times already. He was just waiting for an excuse to hire you.

“You should teach your workers to answer questions, Jack.” Your widened hearing Romanoffs remark.

“Natasha! It’s so good to see you.” He smiled and went there to give her a hug.

“Come on Nat, it’s our fault!” Bucky chimed in, giving you an apologetic look, which you tried to ignore. “Sorry, man. I was trying to catch up with a friend from school.” You did everything you could not roll your eyes at it. A friend from school. That was a good one.

“Doesn’t justify why the line is getting bigger.”

“Maybe if you helped your workers a bit, it wouldn’t be that bad?” Bucky hissed. Apparently, they both didn’t like each other much.

“I’m the manager, Barnes. I hire people to do their damn job and if someone can’t they probably shouldn’t be here…” As you were about to just ignore them and take another customer in, you froze hearing his words. “Sorry guys for the inconvenience your coffee on me.” He then smiled and turned towards you. “Well on her, as she seems not to be able to do her job!” Your eyes widen. No, no, that was not happening. Why did the world hate you so much?

“Sorry doll, I...:”

“Have you decided on your choice of beverage, sir?” You asked, trying to stop the angry tears from flowing. You were sure that when the day is over you will lose that job. And what’s worse getting a job in the middle of the academic year was a nightmare. Almost impossible.

“Come on, Buck…” Steve murmured and ordered three cappuccinos for himself and his friends. “And we’ll pay.” He smiled and took his card from the pocket of his jacket. “Sorry about it, Y/N.” You nodded and turned around, preparing yourself for the end of the day.

It was supposed to be your time. Journalism was what you loved since you were a kid. An idea of telling someone’s story was so appealing to you. So beautiful and romantic. But now when the end of the year came and you got a yearly reminder of how much you own to different institutions you were sick. The bill for your dad’s treatment wasn’t getting any better. not to mention the still growing rates of your student loan and all the postponed bill were growing as well. You were completely broke and after losing the job at the cafe you didn’t get to find another one. Not a part-time, who would expect students or something which was remotely near uni or your flat. Not to mention that your landlord needed to raise the rent, which only made you realise how fucked up you were. You were able to get extra shifts at the shop but it still didn’t pay the expenses. You needed to make life decisions and this one, to end your childhood dream was one of it.

A year of expenses from University was still better than a future 5 years (mixed Master course) and as much as it pained you to send the letter to the dean you needed to do it. You cried the whole week prior to this decision. You felt even worse when the amazing guy tried to make you stay, promising to try and help you with the loan. But even with the extra scholarship, you wouldn’t be able to make it. So with as much spirit and power you had in you, you thanked him and left his office ending your student career.

“Miss Trouble-maker!” You have got to be fucking me! Since the cafe incident, he tried to talk to you. Even invited to a 4th of July (and Steve’s birthday) frill and theirs. But you ignored him. You didn’t care you were impolite but you hated him. And as much as you knew he wasn’t really at fault for your shitty situation but now you really needed to put a blame on someone. “I missed you at the hist…” He got quiet when he noticed the tears that you had enough of hiding. “What happened?” His voice serious, and there some softness in his feature.

“Leave me alone, Barnes!” You hissed, and walked past him, to the end of the building, really not wanting to make a scene at the corridor. “Just once in your life, leave me the fuck alone”, he was taken back by the curse. For all the years he’s been observing you, you never once cursed. Never. You were a goodie girl.

“No. You’re crying. Come on, tell me what’s happening? Did someone hurt you?” The sincerity in his voice was so annoying. Why was he so nice to you. Why did he even care?

“Why would you care heh?” You growled, not caring about making a scene anymore. He wanted to know. Then fuck it. He will know. “Why would someone like you care? Your whole life is nothing but open doors waiting for you to cross. Why would you give a fluffing fuck about someone like me? You never cared about making my high school life a living hell beside that damn Romanoff and Rumflow. The never leaving smirk on your face haunts me till this day. The way you look down at people who weren’t so lucky to be born rich.” You sniffed and pushed him away from you when he tried to take a step closer. “And when I thought I was finally free from this damn school, you and Romanoff happened again. You walked into my life, making it a living hell again. This one time after this damn prom night, I wanted to start living again, but no, you were always there, with this annoying smirk of yours!” You didn't care that there were people watching the two of you. You were sure you heard Rogers and Romanoff from the crowd, but Barnes stopped them with a shove of his hand. “But I didn’t care. I learned to have my life a living hell, but then you had to come to my work and destroy all of it, with your damn friends!” You shouted, showing at surprised Natasha. “You with your high status, rich kids behaviour cost me my job!” His eyes widen and when he was about to open his mouth to speak, you stopped him. “You have no clue about my life. No idea how hard it is for me to survive every passing hour. Not to break down and just fucking give up.” You shook your head, wiped the tears with your sleeve and turned around. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Whatever game you were playing, you won, Bucky. Congratulations.” It was the first time you called him that and it burnt your lips. “Damn it, everyone is watching… At least I will never come back to this place…”

“What are you talking about, Y/N?”

“I quit. Are you happy now? huh? DOES THIS MAKE YOU HAPPY?!” You shouted, turning back to him. “Life isn’t always as happy and under control, as yours is. Life is shit, Barnes. I hope you will never have to find it out!” And with no words left you run towards the exit, pumping at Romanoff, who had the decency to look sad.

“I miss you, daddy!” You whispered, putting a simple sunflower on his grave. “I… I can’t do this any longer. My life is a mess, really. I'm a mess. You know… I left uni…” it was a month after you shouted at Barnes and left NYU and the first time you came to your dad’s grave. “I could not afford it. All the expenses. The bills, the loans… Everything just kept crashing down. But hey I got two jobs back. Damn it, daddy… I don’t blame you don’t get me wrong, it’s just. It’s hard. And I made a fool of myself and blamed a poor guy for all my problems. He didn't deserve my bitchy attitude, but… It was Barnes.” you chuckled remembering the time you told your dad about a guy you had a crush on. “He really didn’t deserve it. Now that I think about it, he was always nice to me. A bit cheeky and annoying but nice. Well, I guess it was harder not to have a crush on him, right?” You chuckled through the tears. “I think I will leave NY. I may go and live in a small town. You would be so disappointed at me, daddy. I really wanted you to see me happy. I was ready to come to the hospital and show you this damn prom dress, but… I’m sorry daddy.” You sat on the ground and hid your face in your knees.

“I’m sorry.” You jumped on your feet hearing a familiar voice behind you. There was Barnes, with tears in his eyes, and a flower bouquet in his hand. “I didn’t know… No one knew…”

“What are you doing here?” You asked, pretending to start cleaning, the already cleaned grave.

“Please don’t hate me for that.” You frowned hearing his defeated voice. “Nat looked you up using her dad’s access.” You froze, but then you shrugged. No, you didn't care anymore. “Jesus, Y/N, did anyone from school knew? Teachers? Anyone?”

“It doesn’t matter, Barnes.” You shook your head and put your small backpack on, and got yourself ready to leave. “Thank you for the flowers. If you wish you can put them next to mine. He would be happy.”

“Y/N, please.” He cried, stopping you by your wrist. “Please… I… I really didn’t know about your situation. I didn’t know your dad was sick, not that he died… Please.”

“What do you wanna know Barnes? What’s more important, why do you need to know? It won’t change anything.”

“I always looked at you.” He smiled softly. “You were this smart, quiet, beautiful girl who caught my eyes. Damn, I was obsessed with you. I was hoping to see you at the prom, I wanted to ask you out. But you never came, now I know why...“ His gaze shifted at the grave behind you. “I cannot even imagine what you went through… But maybe we can start from the start and I can take you out for a coffee or something?” You looked at him and there was something shifting in your heart. This always confident guy was now all shy and nervous, all because of you. You put your hand on his cheek and smiled.

“I will start everything from the beginning. This is why I’m leaving. Have a great life, Bucky.” He wanted to stop you, convince you to not leave but he knew that he was being selfish. So he watched you go. He left the flowers on the grave and promised to come here every year from now on. And maybe he would be able to see you again.

It has been years since you came to this place. Ten years since you moved away and started a new, better life. You moved to Carlisle and worked in the little library there with some extra job in the small coffee shop. You got your degree in teaching and not journalism and you schooled kids in the little military school there, while you found yourself writing books, one after the other and before you were able to blink you were one of the most established writers. Your books were selling quicker than the freshly baked bread and you were finally happy. You were sending flowers to your dads grave unable to come back there. Until this year. After years you decided to move back to NY. A city you found yourself to actually love. You bought an actual flat in Brooklyn and got a small teaching job at the school there. Despite not having to work, thanks to your books, you still loved doing it.

And when the anniversary of his death came, you finally went there, only to be met with a figure cleaning the grave. You frowned, knowing that you have cancelled the yearly grave caring.

“Hello?” You froze when the man turned around. Despite those ten years, he hasn’t changed much. He has cut his hair from what he had in college. He has become a bit bigger, especially around shoulders. His jaw seemed sharper than before. He changed. From a boy, he transformed to even a more handsome man. But his eyes stayed the same. Beautiful greyish once that always melted your heart. You didn’t remember him being so tall, but when he straightened up he was a good head taller than you. “Barnes?”

“Y/N?” His expression softened, hearing your voice. It was visible on his face that he had not recognized you. Of course not. You weren’t this poor kid anymore. You were good clothes and a bit of makeup. Your hair was well done, and not kept in a loose ponytail. Just like he has become a man, you have become a woman. “Wow… You... “ He coughed awkwardly, which made you giggle quietly. “You look great, Y/n.” He finally said, his voice a bit distant, almost unsure what this compliment would make you do.

“You don’t look bad yourself.” You complimented himself, and you swore you could see a faint blush on his cheeks. “What are you doing here?” You asked, softer now. You noticed the already cleaned grave and some fresh flowers.

“I…” He hanged his head and took a deep breath. “Don’t be mad at me, ok?” You frowned and nodded, letting him continue. “I… Since you left I came here every year and took care of your father’s grave. I felt so bad for how I treated you, and everything, and… Well when you left, this was the only reminder of you.” You felt your heartache at this shy, lost man standing opposite you. He was this confident, smirking and annoying kid anymore. You could see it in his eyes. He went through ups and downs in his life, which made him a different man. “I… Can stop if you want. I’m sorry, now that I think about it, it was invasion of your privacy… Shit, I…” You stopped him putting an arm on his forearm, to stop him from mumbling.

“Thank you, Bucky.” His eyes widen, when his nickname sounded so soft. He swallowed and smiled shyly. “It means a lot to me, really. I… I think I should apologise to you as well. I was unfair to put all my failures on you. you were always nice to me, and I… I think it all just was just too much for me. I’m sorry Bucky for being such a bitch.” He chuckled and you couldn’t help but admit that this made him look even more handsome. So you decided to be a bit bolt. “What do you do after this?”

“Nothing planned, why?” He asked, brows raised, when you smirked at him, trying to mimic his smirk from high school.

“How about I go apologise and say hi to my dad and then we can grab that coffee you promised me those ten years ago?” He gaped at you like you were crazy for a second, but then his face lit up and the most beautiful smile appeared on his face.

“I’d love that doll.”

106 notes · View notes

cavalierious-whim · 3 years

Text

Parlay (FE3H)

FE3h | Sylvix | High-Seas AU | Teen | Complete

This time Sylvain's more than doubled his money, he's doubled his life.

####

A/N: Another one from last year! CW for a vague depiction of stitching up a wound. It's very minor. Read here on AO3 for better quality!

####

“You don’t seem the type to dabble with our kind of lot.”

Sylvain turns to the voice, meeting the youthful face of the captain. He’s younger than expected, but severe-looking with a narrow and angular face and circles cut so deep underneath his eyes that Sylvain wonders exactly what it was that put them there.

“Yeah,” says Sylvain, a signature smirk spreading wide across his face, channeling his well-practiced façade, “Pi--”

“Smugglers,” says the captain, interrupting.

“Smugglers,” repeats Sylvain. He’s not sure why the man cares because everyone already knows what they actually are. Pirates. A dubious lot known for bloodshed and riots, and rum and indulgence. Looking around the ship though, it looks more like a tightly run and well-oiled machine, than a drunken schooner.

The captain watches him for a long moment, midnight hair ruffling in the soft sea breeze. He looks mean, but not mean enough to be in this line of work. Then again, Sylvain’s new to all of this, so it’s not like he knows what to expect.

He’s only heard the wild stories of Felix the Blood Red and his rag-tag group of misfits.

“You’re a little green,” says Felix.

“Oh, I’m used to the sea--”

“I didn’t mean ill.” Felix has his arms crossed over his chest as he watches Sylvain with a critical eye. “I meant new to smuggling.” Nothing seems to escape the man. Sylvain will have to tread lightly.

“Well, I used to run my goods legitimately,” says Sylvain, rubbing at his neck. “My father trusted me to overlook his operations.”

“Should he have?” asks Felix.

“Should he have what?” asks Sylvain.

“Trusted you,” says Felix, impatience creeping into his tone.

“Yes,” says Sylvain. Then he pauses. “At least, until he dealt with the kinds of goods that I don’t like.”

“Drugs?” asks Felix.

“Worse,” says Sylvain. He doesn’t need to elaborate for the both of them to glean his meaning. They both fall silent, Felix’s mouth twitching with slight annoyance and Sylvain feels a little bit guilty. “Oh don’t give me that look, I haven’t brought anything illegal aboard. You can check the crates.”

“Then why hire us?” asks Felix, nosier than Sylvain would like. But where he in his position, Sylvain might be just as nosey, if not more. Mostly because Felix is a cunning and interesting man at first glance. And he bets that the mystery only gets better the more he learns.

“I’m not taking them to where they are supposed to go,” Sylvain says simply. “My father wants things shipped south to the Empire.”

“We’re going north to Sreng,” Felix deadpans.

“Might I remind you that I am Sylvain Gautier.” The Gautier family, also known as the ginger scourge of the north, also known as super doesn’t trade with the Srengese. For reasons.

Felix looks at him differently now that he knows Sylvain’s funneling his father’s goods to the people that his family has all but destroyed over the centuries, lips tugged into a small little frown. And for a moment, Sylvain is worried that Felix will call off the job and dump his shipment into the sea. Sylvain would. He’s inviting more trouble than his coin is probably worth, and that’s not just him talking about his mission.

But then Felix drops his arms and sighs. “It’s none of my business,” says Felix.

“Felix--”

“That’s Captain to you,” Felix cuts in, leveling Sylvain with a solid glare. Then he turns away without another word. Sylvain watches him retreat with a rare smile, truly interested in the man.

Captain, it is.

It becomes Felix’s business months later after a high seas firefight with one of Sylvain’s father’s ships. It’s the third run that they’ve done together after the first proved to be successful.

“Shit,” Sylvain groans, arching up from the cot he’s spread out on. Mercedes hushes him but doesn’t let up, pressing the disinfectant against him with more force. “Merce, that burns--”

“Surely not as bad as my ship does,” says Felix from the doorway.

Sylvain’s mouth dries up at the sight of him because Felix is beautiful when he’s on edge and wired red-hot, face smudged with sweat and soot. He scowls at the sight of Sylvain, softens slightly at the sight of Mercedes, and then acerbically asks for the room to be cleared. His crew does as he asks, leaving the two of them alone.

“For the record,” starts Sylvain, “I thought it’d take longer for him to come after his shit.”

“After you, you mean,” says Felix.

“I meant what I said,” says Sylvain. A pregnant silence stretches between them before Felix lets out an annoyed grunt, crossing the room and dropping into the chair beside where Sylvain’s laying. He jerks Sylvain’s shirt up with none of the tenderness that Mercedes is known for and Sylvain hisses at the touch.

“You’ll live,” says Felix once he gets a good look.

“So I’ll make it?” says Sylvain in jest.

“Unfortunately,” says Felix with a little bite to his tone. But then his tone softens a little. “As long as it’s stitched up right and you don’t pull at it.”

“You told Merce to leave.”

“She taught me how to sew,” says Felix, pulling open her medical kit.

“The holes in your clothes!” Sylvain’s seen Felix mend clothes on slow afternoons, laying out below the noon sun and enjoying the ocean breeze. It’s a nice sight, one that he’s come to like, even if it has to be observed from afar. Felix is so rarely relaxed and never so much around him.

“The concept is the same,” says Felix. Then he sighs. “Look, I know how to stitch up a wound. I’ve done it plenty.”

The War, Sylvain assumes then, where Faerghus lost their King to the Empire and the nobility left sold their souls to the enemy for a small chance at survival. Gautier’s done relatively well in the aftermath and reconstruction because brownnosing is what his father is best at. Felix had seemed more like a soldier than a pirate, something Sylvain noticed after just a week on board.

Sylvain doesn’t ask for an explanation and Felix doesn’t give one. Instead, he threads a needle with thick, coarse thread. He disinfects the gash in Sylvain’s side once more for good measure and then jabs the needle through his skin with little ceremony.

“Warn a man!” Sylvain shouts, trying his best to not jerk.

Felix’s mouth twitches into a smirk. “First time getting stitches, then.”

“No,” says Sylvain, but then a small whine bubbles up through his lips. “Yes.”

Sylvain’s seen battle like anyone else in his station, but as the former heir to the Gautier fortune, it’d been a figurehead title more than anything. He’d spent most of his wartime in tents on the backlines, moving figures around, and wooing bedmates to just feel a little bit of something in his pathetic misery.

“My ship will be fine,” says Felix, tugging at the gash to properly close it. “There’s more damage to the sails, but nothing that can’t be fixed.”

Sylvain is quiet for a moment. “I really am sorry.”

Felix is quiet for a moment too, and then he says, “It’s the job. Sometimes it goes well, sometimes it doesn’t. We’ve pulled through worse.”

“My only goal is to get food and clothing to the people who need it,” says Sylvain.

“I know. It’s the only reason that I haven’t thrown you overboard yet.” Felix pulls the thread tight and knots it, before cutting the excess. “For the record, we sunk their ship.”

“Good riddance,” says Sylvain.

Felix watches him as he wipes his hands off on a rag. “You hate him. Your father, I mean.”

“Hate’s a strong word.” But when he meets Felix’s gaze, Sylvain’s eyes are a testy sea storm, and he’s practically frothing at the mouth in barely contained rage. “Okay, hate’s not a strong enough word.”

“I understand,” says Felix in a rare moment of personal expression. He runs his fingers over Sylvain’s ribs under the pretense of checking the wound one last time, but to Sylvain, it feels like an entirely different sort of touch. Especially because it lingers for just a little bit too long to be merely friendly.

“Captain,” starts Sylvain, reaching out to grasp at his hand. Felix doesn’t pull away, allowing the touch.

“Felix,” says Felix. “You can-- Look, Felix is fine.”

“It’s fine,” murmurs Sylvain, his free hand snaking up to brush Felix’s sweaty bangs back. “Are you sure that my highly moral do-gooding is the only reason you haven’t thrown me overboard?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” says Felix, but it lacks bite as he leans into the touch.

“I’m glad I won’t die,” says Sylvain, “and I’m glad we’ll do more runs together.” A pause. “We will continue our business, right?”

“Fool,” says Felix.

“Your fool?” asks Sylvain hopefully.

“You’re pushing your luck.”

“Is it working?”

They look at each other for a moment before Felix swoops down, pressing a kiss against Sylvain’s lips. It’s a sweet thing, far sweeter than Sylvain expects Felix to be. It’s all softness, lacking his carefully honed sharp edges, warm and kind, and genuine.

“So it worked,” says Sylvain against his lips, unable to stop himself from slipping into his teasing mask. Felix pulls away, a soft scowl on his lips. He lets go and stands. “I was joking,” says Sylvain. “Joking!”

“I can still make you walk the plank,” says Felix coolly.

“But you won’t,” says Sylvain.

There’s a beat and then Felix smiles actually smiles, and it’s weirdly radiant and Sylvain never wants to stop seeing it. “No, I won’t,” says Felix quietly. “But I can make you suffer in the meantime.” Then he turns to leave the small room.

“Come back,” says Sylvain as pathetically as he can. “I’m sorry!”

But then he hears the soft murmurs of the crew outside and then a short laugh that is distinctly Felix’s. Sylvain smiles. He’s injured, they’ve lost their sails and his father has put a number on his head. But Sylvain does good; he funnels his father’s goods to the people who actually need them.

And he’s got Felix. He doesn’t really know how or why, but he’s somehow managed, and he has no intention of ever letting go. Sylvain’s placed a lot of bets in his life, but rarely pan out the way that he wants them too. But this time? He’s more than doubled his money, he’s doubled his entire life.

So when Sylvain smiles it’s the first time in a long time that it actually means something.

#sylvix #sylvain/felix #felix x sylvain #felix hugo fraldarius #sylvain jose gautier #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem fanfiction

3 notes · View notes

n0irrrr · 4 years

Text

e m p t y / 11

shingeki no kyojin | series [various x male!amnesiac!reader] summary: [Name], an amnesiac boy awakes in a unknown place – trying to remember anything makes him have horrible headaches. Who is he? And why he can’t remember his own face? masterlist

chapter eleven training

Looking around, the taller male tries to see if anybody is watching him, and when he decides he's safe, Jean can't help himself to check out the body from his friend next to him— [Name]. He's not paying attention to him, so Jean was safe to see all the wanted. He has noticed he have matured enough, but he is taller than [Name] and stronger.

His soft skin looks nice — he wondered if it was easily to mark... his hair looked smooth, too. He wanted to smell it– remembering those days when they were kids he always thought [Name] smelled nice.

Jean's eyes could help but wander more on his body, but before he could get any lower, he noticed something just behind [Name]'s shoulder— a mark?

The two-toned haired male tries to look at it carefully, but someone came out of nowhere talking loudly, scaring him.

"Yo, [Name]!" A short guy yells, approaching both. Turning, he recognize is Connie. "What is that on your shoulder? Is that a mark?" He says, looking right on his shoulder.

"Uh? What?" [Name] asks, confused. He tries to look behind his shoulder, but he can't see anything. "What is it?"

"You don't know? It looks like a mark!"

"A mark?"

"Hmn... it looks like... a wing?? Nah..."

Someone else speaks, interested by the subject. Is a big blonde– Reiner. "It looks like... a crown." He says lowly, narrowing his eyes. He turns to see his brunette friend, who looks nervously at him in return.

"Well, possibly. It does look like it, though..." Jean speaks thoughtfully.

[Name] tilts his head, completely oblivious he had that. "I don't remember anyone telling me I had one..."

Connie raises and eyebrow, "no? not even your parents?"

[Name] stays quiet by the question, and Connie notices right away he asked something uncomfortable.

"S–Sorry! Forget that!"

"Way to go, baldy."

"Hey! I didn't think much of it!"

[Name] shakes his head, "It's alright. No, I don't think they told me."

"Well, that's a cool mark!"

"...Thank you?"

"You don't remember having it before?" Reiner asks, looking at it carefully.

[Name] shakes his head, wondering if he could remember about it– but a sharp pain in his head stops him. Grunting, [Name] places a hand on his head, trying to relieve the pain.

Everyone can see his discomfort, but is Jean the first one to ask. "Your head again?

"Yeah..."

"You have headaches a lot, uh?" Reiner asks.

"Sometimes," he rubs his forehead, but stops when he realizes something, looking at the teenagers with narrowed eyes, "but... how all of you noticed my mark?"

"Because it was noticeable!" Connie responds enthusiastically.

"...So you were watching me while I'm showering...?"

"Ah—! Well, hehe..." Connie begins to laugh, and Bertolt, Reiner and Jean avert your gaze, face blushing.

[Name] touches his mark, wondering. Who was I? He turns to Jean, who is averting his gaze, embarrassed, "can you draw it? I want to see it."

His friend just gulps, trying to act normal. "Oh, sure."

Eren just saw their interaction from far away, pouting and frowning like a child.

"You should stop watching... it's awkward..."

━━━━━━✧♛✧━━━━━━

First training was about practicing with the balance of the ODM. As he could see, Jean and Marco were doing great— but Eren... not so much. The brunette was upside down with an horrifying expression plastered on his face. It was obvious in [Name]'s eyes he was utterly embarrassed and horrified of what was just happening to him— [Name] could only watch in worry as everyone around let out snickering comments about his friend's state as the instructor yelled at him.

"Cadet Knight! It's your turn!" One of the instructors shouted, turning to see [Name] already coming his way, watching his friend in worry. He got in place, one of the cadets placing the wires on his belt. [Name] tried to not tense too much, but as soon as the cadet began to lift him in the air, [Name] couldn't stop feeling so... uncomfortable. He couldn't get used to it as quickly as Mikasa did— it was so... tight. He couldn't stop staggering around, much to his dismay. And to top things up, a migraine was appearing, making it more difficult than it already was.

Nevertheless, the teenager tried his best to not fall. But it was clear the practice was difficult to him.

"You just barely made it," Shadis spoke to him, "you better change your pathetic attempt or you are leaving along with cadet Jäeger!"

Hearing the yells, Eren, who was still upside down, looked besides him to see [Name] having trouble too. He just grew more worried about the future in the military— their future. What if one of them had to go and couldn't see each other again?! He wouldn't allow that!

I̷̡͎̱̭͙͎̠̒̎̍̌̈́ͅ ̴̨̘͍͖̘̼̲̐͑͐̃̐͘͝͝͝͠t̷̨̆̎̽̃͆͂̚o̶̧̢̥͍̗̩͓̘̫̙̮͊̀͋̂͌̇ͅļ̴̧̨̱͉͔̭̬̘͎̣̈̐͋͆̒̎͑̊̆͗̚ͅd̴̢̧͕̟̫͕̲̙̳̬͎̣̥̓͐̕ ̵̧̼͔̠͔̗̞̋̽̿͌͌͑̔̓̇̓̆̽̓y̸̭̺̖͓͉̔͂͋̅́̑̈́͊̆̚͘̚̚͝ǫ̷̛̽̿̑̈́̈̒͘͠͠ǘ̸̼͖̝̬͖̮̥͕̈́̀̀͐̂̑ ̴̧̧̢͉͍̙͓͕̙̲̻̖͊̒̾̃t̵̛̯̦̋̈́̇͌͗̿͘̚͠ḧ̶̹̭̹̱̞̗̖̻͈̟̫́̋̅̑̒͗̽̔̇̚̚i̷̧͕̜̱̓̾̿͛̔̂̍̍̒̓̚̕͝s̶̨̢͕̺̻̜̤̬̑̌̍̏̃̎̚ ̴͓̒̉͝ͅb̸͎̲̜̓͊̏̈̋̊͑̈̄͑̊͜͝͝͝r̸̢̡̧͎͔̺̭̫̼̼̘͎̬̓ä̴̧͈͙̼̤͈̹͖̝̜͉̭͚̊͜ͅṫ̵̡̤̻̰̋́̓̽̕͘̚͝ ̷̢͖̭̪̮̻͇̤̦̘̩̹̅̿̈̈́̌͘͘͝w̷̧̛̱͈̫̙̲͖͉͖̲̘͓̳̉̑̔͊̅̍̿̚ā̴̡̧̻̬͖̫͇͎̃͑̽͜s̴̛̜̭̱̦̲̮͎̞̼̆̕n̷̢̧̯͙͉̫͖̠̙͙̰̙͍͐̈́̏͐̈́̆̇̑͝'̸̡̢̨̛̠̘͖͍͈̥͈̗̦̭̈́̾̾͊̄̓̚͝͝ͅţ̸͇̞̞̒͊͌̃͊̉͂̂̅̾̚͝͝ ̷͔͉̪̠͖̾̉̈͑̈́̋̐̍̓̚͜m̴̨̛ư̵̜̩̭̲̞̬͚̱̮͚̘̾̌͒̃̋̈́͋c̸̢̟̭͈̹͎̮̠͕̾͐̌̿͠h̶̦͖̟͇̻͖͓̮͔̝̖̫͔̄̓̆͒̂̀͌̊̍̚͠͝ͅ ̶̨̧͔̗̱̠̦̫͔̱̅̂ǫ̸̥̫̹̬̣̯͙̪̲͇̌͒̓͊̈́̊̽͒͒͘f̵̻͍̮̯̖̪̹̭̈́̏͒͗͗̊́̕͝ ̸̛̜̮͒͐̽̈́̈͆͌̉̐̽͝ą̶̠͎͉̟̟̜̭̜̥͓̾ͅ ̴̢̛̻͆̐̑̾̆̉̾̿̑̏͆͠͝h̶͉̞̉̏͘ę̷̬͇̟͙̬̭̹̺͉̺͖̦͖͓̓ľ̵̝̲̗̾̓͌̒ͅp̵̛̙̯͕̝̰̹͂̂̿̉̈́̈̇̒̎͘̚.̴̨̬̻̥̲̼̦̫̬̲͙͉͉͌̂̑̒̓̽̕͝

[Name] felt irritated. What was the issue with him? As it was an new thing, maybe he didn't get use to it right away...

"Don't worry, [Name]! I'm sure you will get it right next time!" Marco tried to comfort him with his precious smile, but [Name] was already in a bad mood. The frown made it quite clear.

"Well, seems [Name] didn't make it in the first try," Jean was surprised his friend hadn't made it the first time. But he could recognize the way he grit his teeth and frowned was because he was having one of his usual headaches. "Did your head hurt?"

Sighing, [Name] just nods as an answer, rubbing the back of his head. He couldn't deny hearing harsh whispers right on his ear, a voice that could have belonged to a man with a gruffly voice. [Name] didn't hear quite well what it said, but it got in his nerves nevertheless.

”Looks like Eren is having it worse...” Armin says, smiling awkwardly at his friend. [Name] can see the brunette still trying, but failing every time. It was not a great scene to see, less when everyone was looking at him in mocking way.

”Pff, and there goes “the weak have to go”, HAHAHA!” Jean jokes, laughing like a maniac. [Name] just sees him with an raised eyebrow, amused by such ridiculous behavior. Was he always this dumb?

[Name] sighs, passing a head trough his hair, ”guess I have to worry about myself...” Jean notices his irritation, and he hugs his shoulder and speaks in a weird tone.

”Heeeey,” Jean pats his head with his grin, “don’t worry— PRO Jean knows everything and you are in luck— I’m not charging you.”

[Name] snorts, “is that so? How nice of you.” Hugging his arm, [Name] rests his head on Jean’s shoulder, looking at him with a playful smile. This only breaks Jean’s facade, seeing his blush and stuttering.

Armin just sees with widening eyes and a blush, same with Marco. It’s... amusing seeing [Name] so lively, after being in a bad mood.

"I'm hungry. When is lunch time?" [Name] yawns, letting go Jean's arm. The migraine was still there, but less painful. He somehow had to bear with them as nothing else could help but a cold shower. Maybe he could go to the infirmary later to find anything.

Eren, who somehow finished his awful practice, approaches Armin but not before giving [Name] a weird look. The [hair color] haired stares at him silently, not sure what to say. It's obvious the air had become awkward— there's silence. The brunette frowns, pressing his lips into a thin line, seeming to decide not say whatever he was thinking.

"Let's go." It's the only thing he says, already walking away without Armin. The blonde waves at [Name] before leaving, sending an apologetic smile. [Name] just stands there with a frown, feeling upset once more.

Maybe I should have said something. He thinks, his expression changing to his dull usual eyes and crosses his arms. Sighing, he can't help but being angry at the situation.

The freckled boy can't help but notice the tension, and with prying eyes he looks at [Name]. "Hmn, is something wrong between you two?"

Jean snorts, "of course there is— that suicidal maniac is also a jackass."

"I want to sleep." [Name] states, already walking away. Jean grabs his wrist, pulling him back.

"No you won't! You have to eat dinner first!" Jean yells at him, “I can’t believe I have to be your babysitter!”

”I’m not making you," he pouts, "you are doing it because you want to."

The taller teenager just clench his teeth and grunt, a faint pink painting his face. This cute little shit—

"[Name]! Eating is important!" Marco says worriedly, "if you don't you will be more tired tomorrow..."

The sleepy teenager just sighed and gave in. Eating didn't sound so good when the food was that cold—he already missed his mom's cooking. When will they be able to visit their family?

The trio walked to the dinner hall, Marco and [Name] doing most of the talking while Jean just wondered.

Jean believed if [Name] lived by himself he wouldn't do anything but sleep one week if he could. That careless idiot! If I weren't here with him who would take care of him?! He knew one day he wouldn't be at his side once they graduate. The thought only upset him, squeezing [Name]'s hand for no reason. The amnesiac boy looked at him with curiosity, but squeezed back without a word.

━━━━━━✧♛✧━━━━━━

It wasn't a secret Mikasa was satisfied with how her brother was acting. She knew that day was traumatic— they lost their mother, their father was missing and they believed [Name] was gone for good, even if they didn't say it out loud. But getting angry at him wasn't justified. She knew Eren could get emotional even if he didn't admit it, but it was a clear his feelings controlled him most of the time.

"Eren, you know what you are doing is immature, right?" Armin tries to keep up with the fast speed Eren is walking— he looks troubled. Nevertheless, the blond tries to speak with in a soft tone.

Seeing his silent treatment, Mikasa frowns and speaks, "[Name] is hurt by what you are doing."

"Really?! And then why isn't he coming to apologize?!" He turns to see her angrily.

"For what?" She changes her tone to one much harsher, "he didn't leave us— did you look for him first when the colossal titan broke the wall?" Mikasa says with narrowed eyes, staring right at Eren.

The brunette shuts his mouth, not being able to answer. It was true— his first thought was his mom, not [Name]. But it was completely fine his thoughts were like that. He grits his teeth, turning to walk once more. "Whatever!"

"You will make things right— apologize. What you said to him was uncalled for."

”Eren... [Name] is here, with us.” Armin spoke, “there was a chance he wouldn’t be here— can you imagine that? You should be happy we are together again...”

The brunette grunts, looking as if he didn't care, but in reality, he certainly did. “I have more important things to do right now.”

The two friends look at each other, sighing. Eren could be a thick head when he wanted.

"Hopefully this won't be long."

━━━━━━✧♛✧━━━━━━

As [Name] was changing to more comfortable clothes, he could see Eren (with a bandage around his head) desperately trying to get help with Jean and a kid named Connie. The [hair color] haired knew that wasn’t going work at all, seeing Jean not liking Eren one a bit.

Strangely, [Name] wasn’t too bothered by his horribly practice. At first he was troubled, but he deducted with a few more chances to get used with the gear he would be fine. He didn’t feel desperate— after all, Beatrice always told him that keeping a cool head was better.

”Maybe we can try tomorrow morning before practice,” Marco smiles, looking at [Name], "you can get used to it in no time."

”I don’t think I will wake up...” He scratches his neck, “maybe after dinner... but I will have to change again... ugh.”

”I can go with you to help, okay?" [Name] looks at him and nods, grateful. "Don't worry— I will try to tell you everything I know."

Jean approaches them with a smug smirk, obviously enjoying Eren’s suffering, “he must be so desperate to look for me to help him, pfft!” He can't hold his laugh, seeing Eren's face from afar. Jean turns to the two, still with his smirk, "anyways, how about you [Name]?"

”Ah, [Name] wants to practice after dinner!”

”Really? I don’t see you that bothered, tough.” Jean looks at [Name]'s neutral face— in fact, he didn't see him as worried as others were.

”Maybe I can get it right after a few tries,” he looks at Eren again, noticing he was with Reiner and Bertolt, along with Armin. Tilting his head, blinking with his dull eyes, he proceeds, “after all, being anxious won't help."

"You must be careful with your headaches. Seems they come around in the worst times."

[Name] sighs, "can't do much about that." He didn't know how well he could handle them in the worst scenarios— [Name] hoped they didn't make him leave training.

"Everything will be okay," the freckled teenager showed a warm smile, squeezing his hand. [Name] tilted his head, feeling warm. Strangely, [Name] felt shy. His face blushed and he averted Marco's gaze, and Jean absolutely catch the strange behavior.

Ayayayay— what

"Okay," [Name] scratches his neck, still with the cryptic spark on his eyes. Jean raises one eyebrow, suspicious. Never seen that expression before— [Name] has like... three expressions. What's he thinking?! "We should go to eat now. I'm hungry."

"Sure!"

As the three of them leave, Jean can't stop thinking at the weird thing just happened. That can't be— [Name] didn't even react the way I wanted to when he kissed!

━━━━━━✧♛✧━━━━━━

[Name] noticed neither Armin nor Eren went to have dinner— they stayed with Reiner and Bertolt back in the dorms.

The amnesiac teenager looked at Mikasa, who was with other girls. Since Armin nor Eren are here... She somehow noticed [Name], waving at him with a small smile. [Name] returned the smile, waving along.

He sat down with Jean and Marco as usual, not really talking much. There was few other guys in the table, and he could only recognize Connie and Thomas, a blonde kid he saw around Trost a few times.

"Aah?" The bald kid speaks, stopping eating when he sees [Name]'s face closely. He got near [Name] from the other side of the table, supporting his hands on the wood, "never seen your eyes before!"

"I feel special," [Name] plainly says, eating his bread without much care. Jean snorts by it— since when [Name] jokes?

Connie blinks, realizing who he is, "hey! do you remember your mark?" [Name] blinks, completely forgotten about it.

"Ah, right," Jean takes something from his pocket— a folded paper. He opens it and shows it to [Name], who tilts his head to look at it carefully.

It's a simple drawing— it was a crown inside a perfect circle. No words or anything that he could recognize— just an imagine. This only made him sigh. Of course it didn't bring anything— nothing ever did.

"I don't know."

He doesn't hear anybody, paying more attention to the paper, as he touches the drawing. The touch only brings a heavy pain on his head, and there's only a strong voice speaking trough the static.

W̷͈̱͎͙͍̤͔͉̯̘̟̪͇̭͕̓̂͛̓͗̀͘̕͝X̷̢̛̖̯̰̫̌͛̾̅͂̏͘̕ ̸̨̡̡̰͈̺̻͓̩͔͚̙̅̂̈́̎͜3̴̖͍̫̪̌͛̈͊͝r̶̛̙̺̝̮̣͍̟͓̬̄̀̊͑ͅX̴̹̐̆͌̽̀̕̚͠ ̵̭̻̽͑̇̌̉̿̊̂̍̌̍t̵̥̖̼̮̙̩͈͗͛͗͋̍̌̇̄͛̍̃̋̚͜͝h̴̪̐̏̌͌̓͑̂̕2̵̠̠͇̮̰͈͇͋͜ ̸̧̡͍͙̠̦̬͕̟̻͖̟́̋͌̊̋̄̌̌͘K̸̢̨̥̘͖͙̜͎̹̜͎̰̘̈̀̽̄̎̊̐͒͜ȉ̷̭̺̝̈́̑ň̵͜g̶̺͇̮̑̾͜'̵̨͈̦̳̾̂̓̒̊s̵̢̨̝͙̜͕͙̥͕̣͔̝̤̬̒͋̂͑͒̑̈̈̓͒̀͑̂̑ ̴̲̼͚̲̘̱̫͔͍̩̰͍̓̊́s̶͓͚͐͂̐X̵̡̰͔̯̼̭̻̜̅̋̇͑͛͛͘.̴̭̹̹̳̲̩̃̾͐̓?̵̞̯̤̪̍̊̋̽͗̑͒͗̽͊̚͘͠d̷̡̘̜̯͚̱͕͍̮̹̭͆̒͐͑͛̃͗͘̕͜.̴̨̡̻̟̩̼̄̉̂͠͠

"[Name]?"

"Why does your head hurt a lot?" Connie interrupts Jean, noticing the usual pain [Name] gets. Jean just glares irritably at him.

"Migraines. I will never get rid of them, so I'm used to it."

"Wait— but how come you don't remember anything? Did you hurt your head?"

"Something like that." He doesn't seems to want to talk anymore, so he excuses himself to eat. Doesn't matter, as Connie looks like loves to talk and doesn't seem bothered by his silence. This allows [Name] to think about his now founded mark— did nobody ever see it before? Well, he didn't actually remembered someone looking as his back... was there? Frowning, he instinctively touches his shoulder, upset but happy at the same time. Well, at least I have another thing to be recognized with.

He feels a hand touching his'. [Name] looks up, noticing is Jean. "Hey, do you want to go now? Remember you have to rest." [Name] notices Marco is watching him too, waiting to leave. Nodding, [Name] stand up along with the other two, alerting Connie who only raises his eyebrows with the sudden move.

"Hey! Where are you three going?"

"None of your business, baldy," Jean answers as they leave, hearing Connie yell something to him. Just as they return to the dorm, [Name] can hear Eren's voice in the distance. He turns to the side of the forest, seeing faint lights entering it. Where are they going...?

"[Name]?"

He blinks, entering the dorms without seeing the forest one last time.

”Your straps are loosen up," Marco kneels, tightening them and reordering them, "done!"

"Geez, [Name]. You can be so careless most of the time," he sighs, scolding [Name], "anyways, ready?" [Name] nods.

[Name] has the same uncomfortable feeling as before, but this time he's prepared. He is lifted in the air as he tries his best to relax and not trash around— but there's a gentle voice right at his ear, but not the same gruffly one. This one is kinder, and he can actually understand what it says. He blinks, surprised.

Easy— this is nothing you can't handle.

The voices relaxes him, somehow. Is as if it's singing a lullaby— [Name] sighs, using his whole body to balance correctly this time. Just as Marco and Jean said, the legs had a principal role on balancing himself right. There seems to not be another issue with the gear, as he could see. The two boys saw [Name] working better with the gear, much different than his first try.

"Look at that— seems my great teachings have worked for you, [Name]." Jean smirks, placing his hands on his hips, feeling proud.

"Seems you just had to try a second time," the freckled teenager smiles, giving thumbs up. He helps [Name] getting off.

"I wonder how we'll do in the air," [Name] says, touching the ground. He couldn't wait for the next practice in a couple of days— strangely he felt ticklish by just the thought of flying. Just remembering the first time he saw the Survey Corps using the gear made him grin in anticipation.

"Now now, don't get impatient," Jean tries to sound 'wise', but in reality [Name] thought he sounded dumb as hell, "everything in time."

"Whatever you say, Jeanbo."

"Don't call me that!"

[Name] hides his smile, "mom?"

"[NAME]!"

Marco chuckles, "I'm glad you made it— let's just wait for tomorrow!"

When they walk back to the dorms, [Name] can't stop thinking at the kind yet familiar voice from before. Would I get the answers I'm tired to look for? Hearing the voice was calming, just like hearing Beatrice. It was a weird resemblance, but spot on, somehow. I wonder what she's doing.

#attack on titan x male reader #shingeki no kyojin x male reader #eren jaeger x male reader #armin arlert x male reader #jean kirstein x male reader #reiner braun x male reader #bertolt hoover x male! reader #reader insert #male reader insert #male! reader #e m p t y #various x male reader

105 notes · View notes