#a rookie who wanted some friends that he dedicated himself to saving the world instead. which. is kinda sweet. and the whole reason i've

[front-facing-pokemon]

#jirachi #as i'm queuing this up. i'm sorta. realizing that deoxys has four forms. and i'm wondering what to do about that #like. do i just choose normal form and go with that?? or do i do every single form?? or do all the forms in one post?? or what #this isn't about jirachi. i like jirachi and i think those theories about how bidoof actually caused all of pmd sky are pretty funny #and like. also weirdly reasonable. but i dunno if jirachi is the type to be like a genie. where when you make a wish he's like #o0o0o0o but there's a caAaAaAaAtch……… #i don't think. that's something jirachi does? so it's even funnier then bc it's like jirachi did that on TOTAL accident. but i find that #hard to believe. folks say it's like… he did that so that he could get bidoof some friends Naturally or whatever but i just don't feel like #he'd be the type. but maybe that's why he ends up in the expedition society later on. he felt so bad about ending the world just to help out #a rookie who wanted some friends that he dedicated himself to saving the world instead. which. is kinda sweet. and the whole reason i've #been he/him-ing him this whole time. bc that's what they do in psmd. where his boss battle theme is just a whole banger for no reason #anyway those are some fun theories. i have to figure out what to do for jirachi and also put some chicken in the slow cooker

[bukojuiice]

this is how you fall in love ━ levi ackerman

ೃ pairing: (levi ackerman x  gn! reader)

ೃ  the entire division of the survey corps are not convinced that you and levi are absolutely actually together. however, it took a small expedition outside of the walls and an abnormal titan incident for everyone to coo adoringly at the soft and loving demeanor that levi holds around you and only you.

ೃ genre and warnings: canonverse, fluff, and strong language.

ೃ  my nav  →  my aot masterlist  →   sign up for my taglist

ೃ 1.6k words

ೃ dedicated to one of my first uni friends, @ryscenery because if the two of us didn’t yell (affectionately) at each other for our love for levi, this fic may have never been birthed. i hope you enjoy! 🥺

Love certainly makes you do the wacky. But in a world where chaos is imminent, war is always looming, and people die to giant man-eating humanoid monsters, how can one possibly make their life akin to that of a romance novel?

Well, unfortunately, you can't.

It's a Live and Let Die world, after all.

But... to the remaining few of humanity who are strong and lucky enough to be still wandering the faces of the unknown world, love is a treasure. A gift only a few can find.

And somehow, and someway, you were lucky enough to find comfort in someone you never thought you'd expect to find.

Levi Ackerman.

The stoic and blunt smart-ass captain of the Survey Corps? Yes, him.

Honestly, it's quite a surprise. No one would have ever thought that someone could shake the world of Humanity's Strongest Soldier. It almost felt like a dream, honestly. Your subordinates and co-captains can't even get their heads wrapped around the fact that there's something between the two of you. Well, it's not like either you and Levi were bold enough to rub it in other people's faces.

Even Hanji, who made it seems as if they were utterly convinced over the fact that the two of you are together by teasing the two of you every time that you were within a few feet of each other, has their doubts.

It didn't take long until a minor expedition outside the walls made everyone in the division finally realize how much you and Levi were pining lovestruck dorks when hidden from the eyes of prying and spying soldiers.

An attempted attack from an abnormal titan had forced you to stray away from the rest of your squad's formation. Baiting the abomination away from your subordinates led you to get lost in the outskirts of an abandoned town. With a terribly injured leg, none of your essential equipment with you, and with no means of communication, you had no choice but to wait for the rest of the scouts on patrol to find you.

However, you were afraid of one person.

Levi knows how strong and how much you can hold up in a fight (Your Titan kill count is one of the highest in the Corps), but he hates how reckless you can get. How stubborn. How irrational your decisions can be at times and how much you hate the fact that he reprimands you for the littlest mistakes. Even if those mistakes could ultimately be the cost of your own life.

Catching sight of a shadowy figure and the sound of the clopping of horses from beyond a steep hill, you brace yourself for another long and agonizing lecture from Levi as he continues to approach.

"Captain (Y/N)!" Armin, a rookie soldier from your fleet, calls out. A look of relief forming on his face. "We brought Captain Levi! He's just behind us!"

"Oh, great." You whisper, grimacing to yourself. "Just great." Your wounded leg fails you as you try to prop yourself up onto your horse, falling back down on a mound of rubble.

You only wish you could know what Levi is feeling right now once he sees the predicament you've brought upon yourself once again.

"Captain (Y/N) has strayed away from our formation!" Jean reports sternly, a tinge of worry straining his voice. "They have diverted an abnormal titan from ruining our formation! As of now, none of us in the fleet know of their whereabouts! Neither do they have a flare gun nor any kits in case of an emergency, as they have left them with Krista before the expedition!"

Erwin clears his throat, shaking his head to try and keep his calm facade. "We'll send some soldiers to scout the-"

Before he could even finish his sentence, the distinct cry of a nearby horse could be heard. As the rest of the surviving soldiers turn their heads to where the sound came from, they could do nothing but stare agape at Levi's fleeting figure cross through the safe area and again into dangerous territory. No one could dare to stop him, after all. There was no way.

All they could do was stare in awe at the dramatic yet sweet gesture of the stone-hearted captain that happened right before their tired eyes.

Maybe now they're finally convinced that the two of you are actually together.

(Levi's POV)

I sprinted through the vast fields with all the remaining strength I could muster. After a long exhibition, I didn't expect I'd have to drag my ass around to find (Y/N). Yet, I could not recall the last time I found myself so short of breath.

Dammit. Please be safe.

I am only vaguely surprised to feel an icy trickle of sweat on the back of my neck and my wringing hands as I hold onto the saddle.

Hurry... I must hurry.

There was not a moment to waste. If there were a titan to cross through these shitty grasslands ever again, I'd have to kill these fuckers as fast as I can. Whatever it took to reach them.

....How unlike me.

I hated this feeling. I knew it was inevitable and could happen anytime, but my body launched forward before Erwin could even give his command. Duty decreed that I should have informed him, but the thought came far too late.

I have no doubt Erwin will conjure some excuse for me. After all, this is what everyone wanted, right? Didn't they want to see more proof of my undying love for them? Just because I don't make goo-goo eyes at them doesn't mean I wouldn't defy everything just to keep them safe.

Perhaps I am being irresponsible... but I have no choice but to put my trust in him.

For now, I have someone more important than anything else, someone I cannot fail. Someone I must save.

At the end of the maddeningly long field of nothingness and stark skies, my destination hoves into view.

As (Y/N)'s weakened figure appears closer and closer to me, I abruptly halt my steed and dismount from it. With all my strength once again, I rush to their side.

Moments later, you hear Levi's voice, whom you had seen off just this morning. Wincing in pain due to your injuries, you mentally prepare yourself for another scolding.

"Keep safe" were the words he'd never fail to whisper every time the both of you are forced to depart from each other. It wasn't the most romantic saying out there, but it meant a lot. Especially coming from Levi. He was not the most physically affectionate beau out there, but these little sweet nothings were enough to make your heart flutter.

Observing his looks as he approaches, Levi almost seems panicked. Out of breath, even breaking a sweat... you can't even remember the last time you saw him like this.

His piercing gaze bore into yours, and you felt as though you might fall into it.

Levi takes one step towards you and then another.

"I-I'm fine... okay?" You puff your chest and tug at his hand reassuringly. "Don't worry. I kicked that titan's ass before it could even get a hand of me. How about you? Are you alright? You're breathing so heavily."

He doesn't answer your question but instead drops his gaze into your shaking hands.

"(Y/N)..." His voice was barely audible, a whisper. There's this exasperated look in his eyes that you can't quite describe. And yet, through that faintest movement of his lips, you knew what he meant to say.

"Levi, listen. I'm-"

---And yet... he did not allow you to finish.

Soft warmth pressed against your lips. And his embrace... so intense yet so gentle.

He didn't have to say it with words; This is the first time Levi has shown such love through his touch. Kind, yet powerful. His kiss felt like the wings of butterflies, beating softly upon lips of crushed petals.

You remain in his arms, held tight to the Captain's chest.

The suddenness of his actions came as a surprise, of course... but even so.

The heat radiating from your bodies brought such a wellspring of happiness to you. You were so happy. So very, very happy.

It was so profound that you wished that it might never end.

"Tch. I thought I was going to lose you..." He trails off, squeezing your arm in slight annoyance. "W-why do you always have to be so damn reckless? Why can't you just stick to the plan?"

"Reckless is my middle name after all." You giggle, the kiss ever so deepening.

You're suddenly brought back into reality when a flustered cough echoes from behind you.

You and Levi took it as your cue to finally let go, releasing one another.

"I hope we're not interrupting something..." You turn to see Armin Arlert, a rookie from your fleet, approach the two of you awkwardly. "I'll be tending to Captain (Y/N)'s wounds... if you'd allow me." He clears his throat, clearly intimidated by the cold and striking facade emanating from Levi.

"Captain Erwin sent us." Mikasa added stoically. Ah yes, the ever so tactful commander.

"Were you brats watching?"

"No! Of course not!" Jean, Sasha, and Connie who were lagging from behind, dismiss Levi's claims with a dramatic wave of their hands. "We totally weren't-"

Levi sighs, "Look. Even if you were, I wouldn't get mad." There's a slight blush that slowly creeps on his face yet quickly fades away. "Just... don't get into details once Hanji or Erwin tries to bug you about it, alright?"

"Yes, Captain!"

"Thank you for coming to pick us up." You smile weakly as you let Armin kneel to tend to your wounds. "Who knows what could have happened if we were left here alone?" You nudge Levi's shoulder suggestively."

He smirks, chuckling to himself. "If we were, then they'll finally have more proof that the two of us are actually together, won't they?"

taglist: @crapimahuman @hu-tao-main @smg-valeria​ @moonless-abyss @midnightangelfox @dukina @chibishae34 @arvinrusselisbae @kenmakeii  @eissaaaa @yummyyumi​ @the-one-that-lurks @prxttyguardian

#snk x reader #aot x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x y/n #attack on titan #levi ackerman fluff #levi x gn!reader #attack on titan x reader

[komahinasecretexchange]

Title: of justice and catalysis

Author: hajimehinataisnothim / @whatsupscythia (AmericanFrankenstein)

For: @coockiedrop

Pairings/Characters: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito, Hinata Hajime, Komaeda Nagito, Ikusaba Mukuro, Ishimaru Kiyotaka (mentioned)

Rating/Warnings: T

Prompt: Secret identities (Maybe one of them being a vigilante and other being a cop?)

Author’s notes: One of the prompts was secret identities and I fell in love. I don’t know how the Japanese police systems work, I just know they have some heavy corruption issues but honestly what police don’t? Another point; do you know how hard it was to write this without using Nagito’s name? Also Hinata says ACAB.

You can also read it directly on Ao3

The streets of Tokyo were boring.

Well, no, that wasn’t entirely true, Hinata supposed. He took a bite from the donut in his hand, absentminded. Because he wasn’t a slob it was wrapped in a napkin, the other hand clutching bitter black coffee.

The streets themselves were pristine, the trees lush with pink blossoms with petals that swirled into the air at the faintest breeze, and even the nights were tenuous work at their worst. The problem was that his mind often drifted to more exciting work in the field: chasing down criminals, precisely anticipating where gang warfare was likely to occur, and conducting behavioral analysis to catch a killer.

It was a shame, then, that he had never been good at any of those.

No, Hinata Hajime was a rookie in a sleepy prefecture in the middle of a spring afternoon. It wasn’t his first day on the job but the routine was solidified and unchanging. When school let out he would meander to the crosswalk and usher the traffic across, and when there was a storm he would patrol the bridges to see if the water overflowed. Crime was contained to a multitude of domestic affairs and drunken insults. Nothing worth serious dedication or dignity.

Still, a deep undefinable part of him could not help but crave excitement. It was why he had joined the police academy a year ago. The idea of cutting off a bank robbery, of saving someone’s life when they needed him most was riveting. It gave spark to his step and a smile to his face. To be the hero, the protagonist, to save the day at its darkest hour.

But how could he do that when the world was perfect?

“Check your ten, Hinata.”

He was still being shadowed by their squad leader Ikusaba Mukuro. As a rookie, he still had a lot to learn. Mukuro was the best of the best. She had risen through the ranks faster than any woman before her, breaking barriers along the way. Her uniform was always perfectly pressed, her stance steady and balanced, and her eyes cold as steel. While she was slim, she was also pure muscle. Rumors circulated that before she returned to Japan she had been part of a militia in the Middle East.

Hajime couldn’t help but be intimidated by her.

“Sorry, Ikusaba-san.”

It took him a moment to remember where ten’s hand on the clock face was (even though he could have mirrored Ikusaba’s gaze had he thought for one second). When Hajime had worked it out, he peered across the street to see a man shuffling down the sidewalk. In many instances he was normal, if not strange, with one exception:

He was wearing a gas mask.

“Is that normal?” Ikusaba turned to face him and he withered beneath her cold gaze. “Right. I’ll go check on him.”

(What an annoyance.)

He placed his breakfast atop the wall he had been leaning on beneath the bushes. It was unlikely this would take long, but he didn’t want a cat to run away with his food or a thousand other trivial annoyances that would make the day worse. Hajime found it wasn’t the hard grind that defined the day, but the moment-to-moment interaction that solidified the result.

Today was shaping up poorly.

He headed to the crosswalk to cross the road. Ikusaba’s eyes had to still be on him, and the last thing he wanted was to disappoint her. This didn’t appear to be the time for jaywalking. It was likely a kid cosplaying or being edgy for the day, they’d get a talking to, and that would be it.

While he was moving, he kept his focus on whom Ikusaba had pointed out. The man stumbled and shuffled, not to the point of obvious drunkenness. It was a pattern of uncaring aloofness, how he floated and swayed as he moved, entirely uncaring. Hajime took note of the scuff marks branding his formerly-expensive name-brand shoes.

(Is this habitual?)

Whatever. He didn’t care.

His focused target hesitated at the outskirt of the wall, lingering one moment with his long jacket brushing the concrete. His hair was wild and completely white, too similar to how bleach left fabric to be real. His hands were swept into his jacket pockets, blending his arms into the folds of the fabric. All of his mannerisms were unkempt, careless. Odd.

When he ducked into the alleyway, Hajime didn’t hesitate to follow.

He didn’t often find himself in the sidestreets of his prefecture. In contrast to the sunny disposition of the main roads, the offshoots were cramped and cluttered, bins set aside on the street. It was muddy between the tile outline of a path that the stranger continued to trod down, into darker yet darker regions. The standing water from the previous nights’ rain splashed against Hinata’s tight-laced boots, staining them with dirt. Another annoyance added to the list on a shitty day.

Finally, the dirt path gave way to a concrete flooring behind an equally filthy restaurant. Hajime had seen the establishment often on his patrols; the food was excellent and the service was terrible. He didn’t visit often. The walls were coated with posters, promotions, and sports of graffiti he didn’t have time to give attention. Instead, his focus was drawn to the four foot stack of something shoved onto a pallet covered in a gray tarp. His target had stopped in front of it, his foot tapping idly.

Hajime reached for his radio, his hand hovering over his belt.

Then the man turned around, drew a gloved hand from his pocket, and waved.

Hajime looked behind him. No one else had entered the alley.

(Is this some kind of signal?)

He looked back.

The stranger was inches from Hajime’s face, tilting his head to the left.

“Oh good, you’re here! You’ve been following for a while. Join me.”

Hajime jumped back and fell backwards, down onto the concrete.

“You’re under arrest!” He barked out even though his back stung. It was the first thing that came to mind, unfortunately for his pride.

The man laughed. Whether it was his remark or the fall that elicited it, Hajime couldn’t tell. What he could tell now that he was up close was that the mask was a custom creation. While his voice would usually be muffled with a mask in the way, this one had small speakers built into the side. It was also actively distorting his voice.

“For what? I haven’t even committed a crime yet. What would you even arrest me for?” He took another step closer.

“Yet?” (Was this person stupid? Dangerous? Dangerously stupid?) “ That’s not how this works! At the very least this is suspicious activity!”

“So you’ll arrest me from the ground? I guess they don’t make them like they used to. Officer Ishimaru gave me a rundown yesterday.”

Hinata overlooked the fact that apparently this twig of a man outran Kiyotaka for the time being. “I’m a rookie. This isn’t my forte. What are you doing here?”

Instead of answering, the stranger knelt down and offered a hand.

Hajime hesitated, then took it.

His target was oddly strong, pulling him up on one solid motion. It brought a heat to his face that he couldn’t quite place as he steadied his feet on the ground.

He kept their hands clasped for a moment longer than necessary, then pulled away and let go.

(Oh well, more to over-analyze when I’m trying to sleep tonight. He’s talking again.)

“What’s your name?”

“Hinata Hajime.”

“Well Officer Hinata, I’m sorry, but I can’t come with you. I’m preoccupied.“ He swept his same right hand to the side, gesturing to the tarp while keeping the left in his pocket.

“I—You answer my questions! What is this for!?” He could feel his face growing flustered in frustration. The sheer inanity of it all was getting to him.

“Isn’t it obvious? It’s a bomb.”

(. . . a bomb. A bomb? An explosive bomb!?)

“A bomb!?”

The man rolled his eyes under the mask. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“This isn’t dramatic at all! Thank you, because now I know what I’m arresting you for. Domestic terrorism!”

He was ignored yet again.

“Do you know where we are?”

Hajime blinked.

(What?)

“No? Well, I guess I could tell you. We’re back behind the main bridge. This alleyway is a dead-end junk heap beside the intersection.”

“What does this have to do with—”

“Don’t interrupt.”

Hajime’s jaw dropped. It did little to affect the man in the mask.

“This bridge is essential for the people that use it every day. It’s become a crutch, a reliance. To lose it would be devastating, would it not? Despair-inducing? Imagine what kind of hope that could bring afterwards!”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It does! But I understand what you’re thinking. You know, someone as awful, as terrible, as lowly as me can’t possibly make a change. In fact, the only thing beneath me… is you.”

“Me?”

“The police state. The whole system is so thoroughly corrupted, rotten all the way through. Don’t tell me that you don’t see it. Or are you simply not looking? Is that it?”

“I…”

“You doubt my candor? Then let me ask you this: you too crave the abnormal to compensate for your painfully boring, normal existence. Am I right?”

“I—”

“Who knows. I’m probably wrong. Who am I kidding, I’m definitely wrong!”

Hajime whipped out the baton at his side.

(It’s time to make him shut up.)

“Or perhaps there’s more to you than meets the eye.” The man’s tone stayed even. “Do you know what catalysis is, Hinata-kun?”

“We are not friends.”

“That’s harsh, but I understand. I am the scum of the earth, after all. I understand if you wouldn’t want me to explain it, I’m sure someone like you knows all about—”

Hajime’s patience had worn thin. “Go ahead and tell me!”

(Let him talk. Wait him out and Ikusaba will show up. She’ll know what to do.)

The man stilled.

Hinata felt as if he was being smiled at. Dread piled in his stomach—something was awfully wrong.

With a surprising amount of elegance, the criminal began his speech.

“It’s a chemistry term used for describing chemical reactions. Specifically, an increased rate of a reaction with the assistance of a catalyst. However, there is another meaning that often goes unrecognized; dissolution, destruction, and decay. These are all tied to the catalyst, of course, so the catalyst receives the credit. Don’t you think that the environment, the solution, deserves most of the credit?”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“I am a catalyst, Hinata Hajime. A sickly symptom of this world. And this is my catalysis.”

(He’s fucking insane.)

The tiredness he had fought off with coffee and unfettered optimism was beginning to set in his bones again.

“I didn’t expect you to understand,” he continued as if he could read Hajime’s thoughts (or perhaps he wore too many emotions on his sleeve; his bulged-out eyes were quite noticeable), “But I have a purpose. You have your ideals and justice, and I have my destruction. I think that makes us alike. One and the same. For you justice is your harbor, your anchor to the ordinary while allowing the hammer of the law to pound down and smooth the unnatural, the strange, the unwanted. And that is what you truly crave, is it not? The unusual? To be different?”

“You don’t know me at all.”

Hajime approached him. At the moment it was none of his concern that he wasn’t supposed to be using weaponry yet. All this talk about catalysts, justice, and destruction was not conducive to a safe, peaceful town.

The man shrugged. “And you don’t know me.”

He pulled his left hand from his jacket and along with it a stainless steel capsule not dissimilar from a water bottle. He tossed it underhanded to the ground towards the policeman.

“Who the hell are you?” Hajime put a foot on the canister, stopping it in place.

(If this is a distraction, it’s a bad one.)

“Finally, he asks! Now you’re making it fun, Hinata-kun!”

The canister spewed smoke into the air. Hajime realized his mistake too late.

“Call me the Ultimate Hope.”

Hinata coughed, waving in front of him to disperse the chemical spray. The baton did little to dissuade the atmosphere that covered him. Upset, he tossed it to the side and stepped forward.

Somewhere, there was a faint click.

It was then he noticed, faintly through the spray, a faint orange light.

At first he was confused.

(A flame?)

His eyes widened.

(A lighter!)

He clawed his way closer, eyes stinging.

(This is what that gas mask was for, wasn’t it?)

He was mentally cursing himself out for not doing anything to stop The Ultimate Hope (?) sooner. Waiting out a madman was a ridiculous idea. All he had to do was get him away from the bomb, and that would be that. He followed like a moth to flame, watching as it dipped and lowered.

Then he heard it.

A hiss.

The cloud in front of him grew darker, and suddenly, a force pushed into Hinata throwing him back. It wasn’t aggressive, it wasn’t an attack, no: the twisted vigilante was on top of him. His hands framed the rookie’s face like a portrait, arms wrapping around his chest and hips at an angle too impractical to attribute to anything but pure, dumb luck.

“I’m not sorry Officer, but I don’t want you getting hurt.” His voice was thick with sarcasm, and Hajime could only imagine the look on his face.

Little did he know he wouldn’t have to imagine for long.

The explosive went off.

The world shook and groaned around them. Fire cascaded up into the air like a signal flare, highlighting his enemy—and savior’s—wild mane of hair like a hellfire halo.

Hajime was staring.

The back of his green jacket was also burning. Before he could speak to address it, the stranger chuckled.

“Oh that? It’s fine.” He patted his back as if it were nothing but a mere botherance. He pushed himself up, unfurling his arms from Hinata’s and drawing his hand up to his face. The metal of the mask jingled.

As he blinked to clear the gas from his eyes, Hajime felt a soft press against his forehead.

(Wait. .  .)

The Ultimate had slipped off the gas mask for a phantom mockery of a kiss.

When he pulled back, Hajime could finally see him.

The stranger was beautiful in the most grotesque of ways. His face was pale and thin, gaunt even, with dark circles beneath irises devoid of any color. His lips were red, cracked as if he were parched, and twisted into the most frightening smile Hinata had ever seen.

He stood up above him and cackled.

(That is not fair.)

His laugh was insane, and Hinata knew that he shouldn’t be feeling breathless for this reason but he couldn’t help it.

He was so caught up in the moment he didn’t notice that the Ultimate Hope had started walking.

The man, who Hinata could not possibly know was one Komaeda Nagito, walked over to the wreckage and chaos before them, threw up a peace sign with his fingers, and fell backward off the broken railing.

Hajime couldn’t help himself. He snapped out of his fever, sitting up immediately upright, then broke into a run to the new hole between the alley and the main road.

There he was, the Ultimate Hope, saved by the trash bags stacked beside the stream. He stood up, brushed himself off, and smiled. Then he slipped the gas mask back on and slunk away, only to turn back once.

Komaeda gave Hajime a short, mocking salute.

A soft, “oh,” escaped Hajime’s lips, but he would never admit it.

He stood in the center of the aftermath, his hat clutched in his hands and his world view thoroughly destroyed along with the bridge.

“Hinata.” It was the first time he’d ever heard Mukuro’s voice trill.

“What? Oh! Right. Right, the bridge.” The bridge was the last thought on his mind at the moment, but Ikusaba was attentive as always. She was behind him. Only now she must have considered this worthy of pursuit.

“Did you get a look at his face?”

Hajime thought of the walk, the wave, and the lighter. He thought of the gas mask, a helping hand up, and the fog screen. He thought about the crazy, rambling speeches and the ghost of his arms pushing Hinata down. He thought of the face of the Ultimate Hope himself.

His ears were bright red with blush.

(To hell with it.)

“No. No, I didn’t.” He lied.

“Did he give his ID? Or did he give a name?” Ikusaba demanded.

Hajime had only one answer.

“He called himself ‘The Ultimate Hope’.”

She crossed her arms.

“I hope we never see him again. For his sake.”

(I hope I do.)

Because for the first time in his entire normal life, Hajime’s heart raced with excitement.

#komahina #komahina secret exchange #fanfiction

[ewoodx]

ETHAN WOOD SEASON 3 !! [GREGG SULKIN , MALE , HE/HIS ] do you hear [PHENOMENAL BY EMINEM ] coming from the beach ? oh, that has to be [ ETHAN WOOD] . they are a [ TWENTY THREE ] year old [PROFESSIONAL SOCCER PLAYER ] from the outer banks, and they’ve been living there for [TWENTY TWO YEARS ] . they were chosen to be on the show because they are a [ KOOK] , but really , I heard it’s because they can be [ ILL TEMPERED  & DEMANDING ] . if you get to know them though , they’re pretty [PROTECTIVE & ENERGETIC] . they might become a quick audience favorite due to their [ SIGNATURE SMIRK, PRETTY BOY CHARM & RIPPLING PECTORALS]

Hello hello hello !! I’m Ally & this is the updated bio for Ethan Wood, your favorite arrogant, footballer with a hot temper && a secret heart of gold..I promise ;) Shoot me a message if you’re interested in plotting.

BASICS:

Full name;  Ethan Alexander Wood

Nicknames; E, Wood

Age; 22

School; UNC

Birthday; August 19th

Height; 5’11 but he’ll tell you he’s 6ft

Parents; Oliver and Heidi Wood

Siblings; two brothers: Julian (older) & Damian (younger)

Occupation; Striker for Inter Miami FC 

Birth place; the eight, OBX 

Current location; Miami 

Sign; Leo

(+) ; protective & energetic.

(-) ; ill-tempered & demanding

Sexuality; heterosexual

Pogue or Kook; Kook

Character Inspiration;  zach siler (she’s all that) chuck bass (gossip girl), mickey milkovich (shameless), damon salvatore (vampire diaries) tim riggins (friday night lights) asher adams (all american) billy hope (southpaw) joe kingman (the game plan), ares (greek mythology) 

EARLY YEARS;

Ethan Wood was born and raised to do one thing and one thing only: play soccer. Being the middle child of legendary University of North Carolina starting forward Olivier Wood and renowned athleisure wear designer Daphne Wood, there was only one path for this budding young soccer prodigy. And it was to follow in daddy’s footsteps donning the prestigious Carolina blue and white of his father’s alma mater. 

His childhood was pleasant, raised on his family’s estate in the coveted Eight and filled with family getaways and father/son trips to UNC/Wake Forest rivalry matches. Matches that he hoped to one day play in. Young Ethan was a natural talent and he picked up the game rather quickly, spending every free moment practicing in the yard or scribbling down strategies. He wanted nothing more than to make his father proud and carry on his legacy. 

HIGH SCHOOL;

Ethan was sent to one of the finest private schools on the island that money could buy. Of course, he wasn’t there for his grades and what he lacked in brains, his skills on the field made up for. He made varsity soccer his freshman year and then went on to become captain during his senior year, reveling in all the perks that came with being a star athlete: parties, hookups, popularity. As Ethan’s athletic abilities along with his ego continued to grow, so did his competitive edge, arrogance, and hot temper which is known for getting him into trouble on and off the pitch. He’s no stranger to an alcohol induced bawl and struggles to keep his temper under control. 

COLLEGE;

It’s no secret that in the OBX money talks and Mr. Wood had deep pockets. A library donation and a legacy later, Ethan finally realized his dream and secured a spot on his beloved UNC soccer team. His temper being the reason for the trouble in the first place. It didn’t take long for him to become the frat star worthy of his reputation. Sure, he had to overcome those pesky freshman years, team hazing, and locker room banter, even spending the half a season on the bench for his hot headed temper. Nonetheless, he managed to make a name for himself even if slightly tarnished.

SEASON 1; 

Fresh off his college graduation, Ethan returned to the Outer Banks with his sights set on playing professional soccer in the upcoming season. Before entering the real world in the fall, he joined the show for one last hurrah and boy did he get what he signed up for. The summer was filled with all sorts of shenanigans, parties, booze, and hook-ups. 

Ethan rounded out the first season of OBX rather unscathed, save for a secret hook-up and an unlikely friendship that he formed with a pogue. He gained some notoriety from the show and it was a perfect launch for his new life in the public eye.  

SEASON 2; 

Ethan started footy training in the fall after the reality show ended, and he played for Inter Miami FC, a team owned by David Beckham himself. He took up residence in Miami for the soccer season and traveled the country with his team becoming the soccer star he always wanted to be. His rookie season was one for the books, and if you thought his ego couldn’t get any bigger, check again. 

In his off time, Ethan maintained his growing popularity by making appearances at all the Miami hot spots and keeping up a rather impressive social media presence, constantly posting his fitness routines and workouts in addition to his nights out. This earned him a reputation off the pitch, and his name managed to find its way into the local papers and magazines. He did his best to keep in touch with his friends from the show despite his busy schedule, and even visited the OBX whenever he could. 

With his first professional soccer season in the books, Ethan returned to the reality show for another summer, much to his PR team’s dismay who was working to clean up with reputation, not add to it. It was another summer filled with partying, booze, and messing around. A well deserved celebration after a triumphant soccer season. Ethan grew closer with his housemates and even started forming stronger connections with some of them as family, friends, or more. 

POST SEASON 2;

High off another successful season of Outer Banks, Ethan went back to Miami with a newfound air of confidence about him and an extra pep in his step. He worked and trained twice as hard, determined to play even better than last year. He managed to  keep up his scoring average and earned ‘man of the match’ in several games. Ethan spent less time in the OBX, but instead invited his buddies to come matches and come visit whenever he got the chance. He loved to preform and there was something about having the cast around that made him play even better. 

With only a handful of games left, Ethan suffered an injury that cut his season short. He tore his MCL and spent the months leading up to the summer recovering and going to physical therapy in Miami. His PR team advised him against returning to the show to focus on getting in shape for the upcoming season, but Ethan couldn’t pass up the opportunity to spend the summer in Australia with his crew. 

POGUES VS KOOKS;

Ethan got into his fair share of Pogues vs Kooks scuffles back in high school. Nights filled with stupid boyish banter, booze, and blows. He likes to think he’s above all the rivalry now— playing pro ball and all—  but sometimes he still struggles to truly let go of the past and be the bigger person. He’s an athlete though and though, and rivalries are all just a part of the game.

HEADCANONS;

Despite the ever present confident air about him, Ethan is super generous especially when it comes to nights out and tipping. He is always happy to pick up the tab and doll out rounds of shots for him and his buddies at no charge. As selfish as he can be sometimes, he loves it when his friends are having a good time and is a firm believer in the more the merrier.

To help him keep his tempter on and off the pitch under control, Ethan got into boxing/mma and incorporates it into his workouts whenever he can. He can be found either going to a gym to practice his upper cuts or on beach working on them on his own. He does it mostly for fun, but every now and again finds himself having to throw down. 

For the most part, Ethan can’t really cook, but on the off chance he’s not sneaking out after a one night stand, he makes a killer breakfast, usually in his boxers.

He has secret love for astronomy and mythology particularly hero myths and the stories behind the constellations. Growing up, he always found them fascinating and was the only one of his brothers who would actually sit and listen to his grandfather babble on about them. Those were some of his most cherished memories, and he often celebrates his goals by blowing a kiss to the heavens to dedicate them the ol’ man. 

Moana is his absolute favorite Disney movie, and he will never say no to watching it. He also thinks Maui is the shit and knows all of the words to “You’re Welcome” by heart. Beware, he will actually belt it out if asked.

WANTED CONNECTIONS;

let’s make ‘em jealous; There’s no denying that Ethan and this person have chemistry. They are super flirty and all over each other, but in reality it’s all a rouse. They aren’t really into one another and are merely using each other to stir up some drama, cause a scene, and make the ones that really do catch their eyes jealous.  [OPEN]

the role model; Ethan didn’t really have many positive role models to look up to growing up, mainly just his father and his toxic masculinity. This person helps Ethan balance all that out and helps him deal with all those pesky emotions he was taught to keep suppressed inside in order to “be a man.” This person also keeps him in check and isn’t afraid to give him a much needed smack to the upside of the head when necessary. [OPEN]

the rival; To say Ethan is competitive is the understatement of the century, and he and this person have a rivalry for the ages. The two don’t like each other and this person never fails to get under Ethan’s skin. It could have even started back in school and carried over to now. Perhaps the reason Ethan had some trouble getting into UNC for soccer? Bonus points if they have to put all their differences aside and work together at some point for a common goal. [OPEN]

the hook-ups; Ethan really isn’t the type to stick around after a hook-up and is usually out before the sun comes up, never wanting to get attached. If anyone wants to give him a much deserved slap upside the head or just wants to keep things casual and flirty, let me know! [OPEN]

the real bros; for those looking for a second muse, Ethan has two brothers xD. Julian and Damian (names can totally change! I just headcannon them all ending in -an) He has one older brother who rejected the athlete/UNC/kook life leaving Ethan with the pressure to fill daddy’s soccer boots. They had a fall out and their relationship is shaky at best. Ethan also has a baby bro who he is definitely closer with. They get on rather typically through harmless banter and school boy shenanigans. He also has an innate protectiveness over him because he is older. [OPEN]

Totally open to anything and everything, so feel free to shoot me a message!! Also if you read all that WOW. You are the real MVP.

#outerhq.intro #outerhq.s3 #s3

[originalpistol]

༺ ⁝ 𝑳𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒟𝑒𝓋𝒾𝓁,  𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒇𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕. ⁝ ༻ Shades upon shades of pastel pink passed by my eyes in multiple different fabrics. Lace? Overused, still sexy, but overused. Velvet? Perhaps but it would need to be [real] if [I] was going to place this piece in my line. Felt? Fuck no. God, what a travesty that shit would be. Leather? There were two competitors, that I knew of, who were planning to incorporate leather into their “signature” lines, and if anyone knew me? They knew I was bound to blow their lines out of the water, and drown them. Not to say it wasn’t a difficult task; I wouldn’t be sweating over it. Deep blue eyes wandered over all of the fabrics that were sitting right at my fingertips, and slowly I let that gaze rise up to each person that held these panels. With a swift flick of the wrist I dismissed two fabrics from the room, and nodded to the remaining four. A smile of absolute certainty casted in against my features, and I nodded the four of them to take their seat at the designing table for this morning’s meeting with Christian Dior. “Go. Now. I want each of you seated at that table in [ten] minutes. Fabrics and swatches, no exceptions. You mess this up — even the [slightest] mistake? You can gather your belongings and leave,” I called out over my slender, black-clad shoulder. Of course, everyone knew how I operated by now, and if they didn’t? There would be someone in this studio that would brief them before I laid eyes on them. That’s the way I liked it. When you’re at the top of the hill, you get other people to do the minuscule things for you, and Lord knows I wasn’t one to train a rookie. Not in this lifetime, at least. Those days were long gone, and I would rather be shot square in the temple than to backslide into that pathetic existence, again. The familiar sound of their feet shuffling behind me, making their way to gather all of what was needed, caused a knowing smirk to form in where the smile had once been. Time to get this year’s line underway, and ready to go for the September release. For years now, I had been in close cahoots with Mister Dior, and I wasn’t about to waste that type of talent, or let some other company attempt to yank at his sketchbook. That was [my] job. In an ease of motion I began to thumb through my mother’s old sketches before I settled at the one I’d been saving for the right time. For the right artist. Dior was my prized penny in a stack of bent up nickels and dimes. Gentle fingers swept against the old tattered pages of this book for a moment as I thanked my mother for this gift I’d been given twelve years prior. Eyes fell closed for this second in time before I nodded, folding the book back to hide this page even though I knew it would open right back up. Perhaps with old wounds. Perhaps with a whole lot of hate. Who knew? Ringlets of Chestnut and Dark Chocolate locks framed my shoulders, and fell against my back as I made my way towards the room surrounded with glass walls, and a priceless view of Seattle. I could feel the eyes of all those who sat in the studio focus on me, and instead of acknowledging their angst, I simply flashed a brief smirk. Some young girl held the door open for me as I entered the room and an immediate smile washed into play as Christian stood to hug me. Small embrace, and that was it. Nodding, I stood at the head of the table, setting the book on the table and turning my attention to all who sat before me. “This year I want things to change. I want to create a line that screams to be pleased. That begs those who wear it to be taken at their weaknesses, but in that, to be [used] but only if [they] say to do so. Now, you all probably assume that will have to follow suit with bondage, submission, and dominance. To that I say — you are [wrong]. This has to do with vulnerability, and you might wonder what in the hell does that have to do with lingerie? Everything. You have to open a new side of you to place these clothes on you. To present yourself as a present for whomever, and that is our ticket in. That is how we are going to wipe our competitors off the slate. This is the year of Provocation by Pistol. Welcome Mr. Dior, and feel free to take a look at everything we’ve got in store for you. There are fabrics there that many wouldn’t dare to place in a lingerie line, much less as a primary focus, but I would. I want to see Velvet made completely of Silk, Dupioni Silk, Lamé, and Embroidered Organza. I want [you] to incorporate each of these into my line this year, and I want you to do so making new renditions of my mother’s sketches. Make them your own, but more importantly, darlin’ — Make me love them.” 𝑶𝒉, 𝒚𝒆𝒔. I could tell by the way he raised a brow towards me that his interest had been piqued, and I had ultimately won signing Christian Dior onto this year’s line. Too bad Daddy was wrong when he told me a, “bullshit little lingerie line won’t get you anywhere big.” I loved him, but he underestimated the power of a woman’s sex appeal far too much. Though I supposed it had to be hard for such an ‘upstanding, tight-lipped’ man such as himself to ever think of his daughter in that dedication. Shame. He could’ve had a hand in being a partner, but he’d lost that right many years back. Perfectly manicured fingers used the glass table as leverage as I pushed myself back, coming to stand just as I flashed Dior with a sardonic little smile. Nodding once towards him as to let him know I would see him in my office as soon as he had briefed my team on what he would like to do. I wasn’t about to show my entire team the works of my mother; too many eyes are too many chances to be betrayed. Christian stood just as I made my way from the room, and sauntered up the nearing stairs to my office. The only room on the entire top floor of my studio, though there were many upon many floors beneath. Twenty, to be exact. I bought this building on my nineteenth birthday, my third year of unrivaled success as a model in New York City. Coincidentally; my first year as a designer was my last year as a model, though I could easily reclaim my spot on the runway if I wished. I decided long ago that I wanted to be the name on the clothes rather than the name in the clothes. By trade, this is how I came to know [many] of the talented and entitled designers, artists, and models. So I used my time on the runway to aide into my own fashion empire. Much as I had used my father’s colleagues, friends, and social tree to find all of those to invest not only in my company but in me. To believe in [me.] Worked like a charm. Daddy, on the other hand, was a completely different story. Being a model was one thing, but being the face and name behind a billion dollar luxury lingerie line? Fuck me, I might as well have become a prostitute on the corner of Monterrey Square in Historic Savannah. That would’ve been less disgraceful to my father’s eyes than what I was currently becoming. What I was [creating] for the whole world to view, and part of me hated his self-righteous bullshit. Mama never would have done that. She wouldn’t have done all to me as he had; she wouldn’t have allowed her friends to lay their hands against her only child. Her only [daughter]. These thoughts echoed throughout my mind as I felt my fingertips dig down into the denim fabric of my Marc Jacobs denim jacket, almost far enough to pierce through the mastered stitches. Anger didn’t begin to cover the searing pain that etched in against my heart. This was why I worked so goddamn hard. To be able to say I had become more than John Hale. The most influential man to walk the streets of Savannah since Jim Williams. A man who took the world for granted, and treated people like disposable resources. Yes, Daddy, use everyone who ever loved you, and throw caution to the wind when it comes to their feelings. How smart. Ocean inspired eyes rolled back at the thought alone, and I tilted my head to the side just as I opened the leather bound sketchbook. A small, subdued smile coming into play as I let my fingers glide in against the drawing. It was almost as if my eyes had glazed over in a daze as I felt the familiar strokes of my mother’s pencil, and I simply sat back in my seat. Wonder filled my mind as I let my mind drift off to the thought of where she was. Where my father had placed her when I was twelve years old. The year he found out that I was ‘afflicted’ with lusting for others. That I wanted to be in an industry so highly controversial, and that his little girl wanted to walk the runway. He saw it as my mother’s fault since she spent most of her days that turned into nights, and back to day, piecing together her drawings. Making them come to life in her tiny ass attic apartment that was our secret. He knew of her dream to become a designer. What he didn’t know was that she had found the little silver key to the attic the same year I was born, and from then on? That was where she went to find solace. To comfort herself in her darkest days, and where she taught me how to be something he never could —ｓｔｒｏｎｇ. “𝙰 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝, 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙷𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚘 𝚏𝚞𝚛𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍.” I could still hear her sweet voice speaking to me from behind her wire mannequin as she pinned the dress in place. She would always make sure to peek around whatever masterpiece she had been working on, just to make sure I heard her quote Congreve but with her own touch. Maybe she didn’t realize it then, but I always paid attention when she spoke. Little did I know then, but I would always wonder if I subconsciously knew Daddy was going to throw her away the moment he found out. I did always have a knack for being able to predict certain outcomes, and perhaps a piece of me did know that particular fact of life. After all, by the age of fifteen I knew all the plays in my father’s playbook. 𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒑 𝑶𝒏𝒆: Create a “lasting” relationship. 𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒑 𝑻𝒘𝒐: Mind fuck them to the best of your abilities. Find out their weaknesses and their quirks. Figure out why they are in their position of power, and [how] they got there — that’s arguably the most important piece of information you can have against someone you plan to overcome. Once you know how they built themselves up to where they now stand; you’ll be able to see how to tear them down. Stone by stone. 𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒑 𝑻𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆: Take your time throwing the stones of their lives away. You do [not] want to rush this, if you do they will catch on. They will see that you aren’t a friend after all, and that you are only in this for yourself. You are using them as your next step in the game. 𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒑 𝑭𝒐𝒖𝒓: Keep a distance, but not too much of a distance to raise suspicion. Make sure they know you “care” about what they’re going through. Hell, even offer your help if you feel it’ll help you step up your game. Build trust quicker than you tear it down. 𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒑 𝑭𝒊𝒗𝒆: Be still and know. Make moves behind closed doors. Nothing leaks to the press. Nothing leaves the table of which pages are signed [until] whomever you are fucking is already too far buried to fight back. Make sure anything you have done has been covered. There are no tracks. Be still in what you have finalizing. Know that there is nothing to unravel your own work. 𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒑 𝑺𝒊𝒙: Bury that motherfucker quicker than a lawyer who has something to hide. These are the six quintessential steps to overcoming [anyone] who dares to challenge a Hale. Especially if there is a threat involved. My father instilled these rules of the game from the time I was old enough to play a decent game of chess, with the logic that if I could outsmart a grown man at the age of thirteen; I could overcome any business tactic with a little grit and grace. Too bad I never liked to follow the rules. I play at my own expense, with my own rules, and at the hands of no mercy — for a mercy rule is a weak man’s way out. ⁝༺༻⁝ The familiar sound of knuckles against my office door quickly grasped my attention from the previous thoughts, and snatched me back to reality. It took a moment to fully refocus myself on the task at hand, and I nodded to the man who stood six foot three in the doorway. “C’mon in, Dior. I’ve got somethin’ to show you,” I called out in a clear, concise southern draw. Letting my gaze settle against him as he made his way over, straightening out his suit as seen fit. Once he had taken a seat across from me, and I flashed a small but noticed smile in his direction before I turned my mother’s sketchbook towards him. Taking a moment before I thumbed through to fourteen different designs. All a completely different style; all equally as challenging as anything else he had ever created. After I let him take the book into his own hands, to study the drawings, I began to speak once again. “What I want [you] to do is to take these and make them your own, but with remnants of her. My mother. She was quite the artist, without a platform, without a voice into the world of fashion alike. It’s time to break the ice. I want you to use only four fabrics to create something unimaginable. Bear in mind, every one of these looks will have to be transformed into lingerie, and every look will pair with leather boots made by Christian Louboutin; you’re free to contact him to work amongst yourselves on the scheme. However, I will want restraints to match, and perhaps whips. Something to keep the edge alive, to fight the competitors on their ‘love me leather’ pursuit. Like I said — make me love them.” His emerald eyes stayed fixated on me for nearly five minutes before he nodded a very slow nod of understanding. Perplexed; to say the least, I’m sure. Though his smile lead me to believe he was more than happy to do as I had demanded, and instead of speaking he began in against the sketches once more. Studying each detail in their design just to look back up at me, and finally he broke the silence, “These are beautiful. Such a elegant touch she had to the designs; I wouldn’t touch that. There are things I will refuse to change, and others you will never recognize as your mother’s — they will be my own. You will be proud Miss Alice, and you [will] love them. I am a man of my word.” The certainty of his voice made a smirk creep in against my lips despite the satisfaction I got out of knowing he was pleased with my idea. Then and again; who wouldn’t be? With a nod to him, I moved to my feet to shake his hand as if to non-verbally seal the deal, and just as he went to tuck my mother’s sketchbook beneath his arm, I shook my head. “I think not. Her book stays in the studio. It does not leave the premises; there will be no exceptions. However, my assistant can and will make any and all accommodations you need to be comfortable here. There is a whole extension to this studio that comes off the fifteenth floor — in the back. It should be big enough to fit your needs, and if not? You come to me. We will work something out.” With that in the air, he smiled rather warmly towards me before sliding the book back onto my desk. Without a word he stepped into me, gracing my cheek with a gentle peck to show respect for my wishes, and as a friendly goodbye before stepping away. I waited until he had made his exit to slip my mother’s most prized work into my locked drawer, though once secure I made my way from the office. Smiling at the familiar clink of my heels against the marble floors — Oh how I loved that sound. I waved a hand in the direction of those who were still at work on the floor before thanking them briefly, and explained deadlines to the few who were in the meeting. For a moment I had to double check myself to make sure there was nothing I was forgetting to say or do, but ultimately I turned on my heel and headed for the elevator. Tucking my phone into my purse as I walked, a somber smile came into sight as I stepped onto the glass box, pressing in the ground level button, and once the doors slid closed? I ran a hand back through my thick locks, nodding to myself as I knew where I had to go next. What I had to do. Who I had to go see. Ding! The doors slid open in what seemed like no time, and I sauntered through the lobby and directly for the car that awaited my arrival just to dismiss my driver instead of taking my usual ride to my temporary home on Bainbridge Island. With a heavy breath falling from my lips, I followed back to retrieve my Bentley where I slipped comfortably in against the leather seats before bringing the car to life. It only took a few seconds before I was pulling away from my studio and heading to the outskirts of Seattle to Northern State Sanatorium. After an hour and a half later, I found myself pulling into the dreary confines of this institution’s parking lot, and for a moment? I couldn’t help but to wonder what kind of horrific shit might linger deep within the walls of this building. There wasn’t a smile to be had here, and that much was evident. Nodding to myself, a silent confirmation that I needed to do this because if I didn’t do it now? I never would. Minutes passed as I sat in the car, breathing...just breathing before I slipped away from the car. My purse hung from the crook of my elbow just as I sauntered towards the door, and much to my surprise? It was a mechanical door instead of something wretched as I assumed it would be. That’s reassuring, at least I noted to myself just as I made my way to the front desk where a sliding window opened and a blonde woman of about sixty years sat. She looked over me for awhile before finally asking for my name and for the name of whom I was coming to see. 𝑯𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈. “Alice Katherine Hale, I’m here to see my mother; Josephine Alice Hale.”

[fanficnewbie]

“Fighting for Forever” - Chapter Two: Open Heart Fanfic

This is my first story/series. The first 5 chapters are adaptations from the first 4 parts of “A Weekend with Dr. Ramsey” series with permission from @alwaysmychoices and then I continue my own original work in chapters 6-14.

I start this adapted storyline during Chapter 15 of the original OH series. There is a bit of AU, where I play around with the storyline a bit and insert two days between MC leaving the country club and returning to her apartment to find Landry packing. Some situations have been changed to keep with the original vision of @alwaysmychoices and make the story work in the direction I wanted it to go. However, I find my way back to the original in Chapters 6-8 and then move on past the ending of Book One during chapters 9-14.

My MC is female, Francesca Houseman, who has only had eyes for Ethan Ramsey from day one.

FULL SERIES

Chapter Two: “The House by the River” (adapted from “A Day With Dr. Ramsey”) 

3283 words

This entry adds an imagined day of Ramsey and MC visiting Naveen at his home while he is unemployed and she is on suspension.

(M - Language)

The drive to Dr. Banjeri’s home was littered with occasional small talk and much to Ethan’s chagrin, frequent changes of the radio station. Though he knew the way, Ethan quickly recognized that Francesca needed something to do and he turned over all navigation to her. He found that, though a competent doctor, her navigational skills were sub-par and had he not been confident in his path he would have grown irritated. But instead, he found humor in her sudden gasps of “oh shit, turn right!” and “fuck, it says we should have turned there.”

Undoubtedly, Jenner enjoyed the drive the most. Somehow, he weaseled out of the backseat and settled comfortably in Francesca’s lap, and for a moment, Ethan couldn’t tell who was more smitten with Francesca – him or his dog.

“And we should be… here…” Francesca leaned forward in her seat, making Jenner shift, to look for a sign that they had arrived. Instead, she was greeted with an apparent wall of trees, “What the…?”

At this point, Ethan decided to relieve her of all navigation duties and drove towards a break in the trees. He found the small, hidden driveway and turned onto it. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Francesca’s expression fill with amazement and curiosity. After a minute or so of traveling down the drive, Dr. Banjeri’s river house appeared, and Ethan could just make out his mentor pouring over an easel on the dock.

He looked so… frail, yet at ease. He’d embraced his death sentence with a friendly smile and resigned himself to spend his final moments only doing things that he enjoyed. Ethan offered to stay with him at the river, offering companionship and medical care, but Naveen refused. In his last days, he wanted Ethan to be family, not his doctor. He wanted memories to be fond, not burdened by the daily care of a patient.

Even now, the pain on Ethan’s face at this decision was apparent, and Francesca instinctively reached for him, placed her hand in his and gave him a gentle squeeze.

Ethan looked over to Francesca and her soft smile that left little need for talk. He didn’t have to say that he was sad, she already knew that. And she didn’t have to tell him that she understood, because she’d already shown him.

The silence lingered in the parked car. Francesca’s eyes never left Ethan, waiting for a sign that he was ready to get out and face his dying father figure. She didn’t rush him, instead, she simply left her hand on top of his. She was gentle, unsure if he would accept the sign of support, but to her surprise, he laced his fingers through hers and squeezed tightly.

“Are you okay?” her whisper was soft and tinged with concern.

Ethan considered her question for a moment before nodding his head, “Yeah… Thank you, Rookie.”

It was the first time he heard the level of affection he placed in her nickname. Had he always sounded so enamored?

He put his hand on the door handle, “Come on, Jenner wants to say ‘hello’.” 

Francesca placed a gentle kiss on Jenner’s head and leashed him before opening her door. He happily stuck by her side as they got out of the car and made their way to the dock.

Naveen saw Ethan first and waved enthusiastically, abandoning his painting and walking towards him. Even from a distance, he saw the continued marked change in his friend since the final diagnosis. Sleepless nights and scotch had aged him since leaving the hospital, and a sense of finality followed him. Failure was not a good look for Ethan, and it pained Naveen to think of leaving him behind when he was in such a poor state.

“There you are! I was beginning to worry. You’re always punctual,” Naveen called out. Ethan was usually there by 10am, but rather uncharacteristically, it was almost Noon. As he got closer, the answer to his friend’s tardiness revealed itself.

Dr. Francesca Houseman appeared from behind Ethan with Jenner in tow. Even as she smiled and waved, it was evident that she and Jenner had formed a silent attachment to protect their pained companion. Suddenly, Naveen wasn’t so worried about leaving Ethan alone in the world.

“Dr. Houseman!” He greeted her warmly, occasionally glancing at Ethan as if trying to confirm the obvious. Now that she was closer, he found clues that she’d spent the night at his apartment, and Naveen began to wonder how long Ethan had guarded such a secret.

“Please, call me Francesca,” she smiled, seemingly oblivious to Naveen’s assumption that they’d slept together, “I hope you don’t mind that I tagged along, Dr. Banerji.”

“Of course, I don’t mind! You were once one of my only associates in Edenbrook, and for that, I consider you a friend,” Naveen was sincere. Like Ethan, he saw something special in the young intern, and had his health permitted, he would have liked to form a lasting friendship with Dr. Houseman. He imagined that, by the way Ethan looked at her, she would have quickly become a significant element in both of their lives. “I am now a retired man. So please call me Naveen, Francesca.”

“Thank you, Dr-“ Francesca stopped herself, “Naveen.”

Naveen smiled and pulled her into an unexpected hug that Francesca happily reciprocated. And for a moment, Francesca reverted back to her med school daydreaming and almost pinched herself when she realized the famed Dr. Banerji was hugging her.

In his embrace, Francesca could see how Ethan adored Naveen so. If anyone could feel like an intern’s medical school grandpa, it was Dr. Banerji. In his retirement, he’d abandoned his white coat for a warm sweater vest that smelled of acrylic paint, aftershave, and peppermint candies. His roaring laughter warmed anyone who heard it, and his gentle, attentive smile demonstrated his genuine affection.

Francesca bit back an oncoming wave of sadness as she remembered that this wonderful, tender man was dying. When Naveen released her, he caught a flash of the pain in her expression, but she quickly returned to a polite smile as Naveen invited the two for lunch in the kitchen. Jenner, excited by a few ducks in his view, hurried and forced Francesca a few paces ahead of the other two.

With a hand on Ethan’s shoulder, Naveen looked at his friend with a telling smile.

“She’s wearing your shirt, Ethan,” he didn’t have to specify the obvious insinuation.

“She slept in my guest room,” Ethan grumbled, somewhat embarrassed by Naveen’s excitement.

“Ah, but you brought her here with you,” he was not at all surprised that his young friend hadn’t yet accepted what was so obvious to him.

When Naveen received the news of his impending death, he mourned the life he lost. He mourned the patients he could no longer save, the world he could no longer serve, and the people he could no longer love. But more than any other, he mourned the years he would miss of Ethan’s life. He regretted that, in all of their time together, he had never seen Ethan fall in love. Instead, the young doctor’s life had been a series of carefully planned decisions, each furthering his illustrious career and cementing his success. For all of his deliberate choices, Ethan had never made the one to love someone. But Naveen had also never seen Ethan look at anyone like he looked at Francesca and he was filled with hope for the two. Letting them into his house, the warm hope was quickly followed by sadness that he wouldn’t get to see how their story ended.

Naveen’s home, much like his apartment in the city, was filled with books. Most were medical, and a few had been written by himself. There were classics and popular titles mixed in at random, most of which he had never read but purchased to read “someday.” And with his days now numbered, he’d pulled them off the shelves and stacked them on various end tables, occasionally picking one up and switching at random. There were fishing rods and unfinished paintings littering the living room, and Francesca spotted several unused golf clubs in the corner. Naveen dedicated his remaining time to his various passions in life – all but one. He had forced himself to let go of the final mystery of his diagnosis.

Francesca immediately noticed that the medical books were the only ones not pulled out, and she felt an unexpected wave of surprise. Until now, she had never truly believed that Dr. Banerji had really given up.

“Pasta?” Naveen offered, already preparing heaping bowls – he had started a ritual of cooking his favorite foods, each night something new. While the pasta carbonara he was serving them were leftovers, he always felt that the flavors were better the next day anyway.  As he prepared a third bowl for himself, he noticed that Francesca’s eyes had settled on his fishing rod.

“Do you fish, Francesca?”

Francesca nearly jumped, surprised her reverie had been noticed.

“When I was a kid,” Francesca admitted with a sheepish smile, “It was my grandfather’s favorite pastime. I have fond memories of being out on the lake with him.”

“Ah,” Naveen broke out in a wide grin, “Ethan won’t fish with me!”

“You won’t fish?” Francesca raised an eyebrow at Ethan, “I thought you’d do anything to avoid small talk.”

Naveen laughed, admiring her spunk.

“Even I have limits, Rookie.”

Naveen couldn’t contain his smile as he watched the two and proudly brandished it when Ethan looked back at him, much to Ethan’s embarrassment and Naveen’s continued amusement.

“As your grandmentor, I’d be honored if you joined me on the dock. Who knows? You might even be the missing ingredient to get Ethan to fish after all these years,” Naveen took a bite of his food, happy with himself for putting his mentee on the spot and daring him to say no to her.

Francesca smiled at the term, Naveen had come up with it when they were a threesome at the hospital. Deducing that if Ethan was her mentor, and he was Ethan’s mentor, he must be her grandmentor.

“To satisfy an old friend, I will consent to a boring pastime...after lunch” Ethan agreed, and he could see the words hiding behind Naveen’s smile: You’re doing it for her.

That day, the river echoed the laughter coming from Dr. Banerji’s dock.

The three doctors spent some time seriously baiting fish on the river, even catching a few that Banjeri insisted they would cook later that night, but the seriousness of the pursuit quickly evaporated. Banjeri and Houseman were first to find something silly to laugh about, though they both tried to stop in fear of “scaring the fish away.” However, a competition developed in which they all tried to remain serious as Banerji and Houseman told corny jokes. Ramsey, was the unsurprising victor, while Banerji and Houseman constantly dissolved into continuous fits of laughter. 

While putting away their gear, Francesca stumbled upon Banerji’s latest unfinished painting. It only took one compliment of his work for him to light up and hand her an easel, offering to teach her a few tricks. This time, Ethan resisted their requests for him to join, and instead, he and Jenner offered to judge when they were done. Francesca painted terribly, but Banerji wasn’t much better.

It wasn’t long before the two doctors were thick as thieves. She trusted and adored him instantly, and Naveen reciprocated. She was a lovely young woman, but even if she hadn’t been, her affection for Ethan was enough to make him appreciate her.

At some point, Ethan meandered back to the house where he cleaned up after lunch and then picked up a stray book from the growing collection of titles on Naveen’s coffee table. He watched the two paint through the expansive windows, a small smile on his lips.

“It’s been a very long time since I’ve seen him so enamored…” Naveen’s words were soft enough to almost be lost in the passing breeze, but they caught Francesca’s attention with a jolt of surprise.

Francesca looked at the man beside her, “He’s in a lot of pain.”

She didn’t waste time pretending that she didn’t know what he was talking about or acting surprised at the implication of his words. They both knew what this looked like, and Francesca was not skilled enough to hide the obvious way she felt about her mentor. To deny it was to waste the short time Naveen had left, and he was the only person in the world she felt she could talk about it with.

Naveen nodded thoughtfully, “Will you be there for him when I am not?”

“I don’t know if he’ll let me,” Francesca admitted with a sad ruefulness in her voice. A dying man was asking her to care for his loved one and she wasn’t sure that she could.

Naveen chuckled, “Ethan may hold you at arm’s length, but he’s never let you go, has he?”

Francesca thought back to his time away from Edenbrook, all of the texts she’d almost sent and all of the days she’d hoped he would reach out. He’d never felt so far away from her, and it pained her more than she expected. But one, well many, drunk texts later, and now she was here. She considered Naveen’s comment, growing silent as she returned to her painting. Had Ethan ever let her go? Naveen watched her out of the corner of his eye, trying to read her silence.

Ethan abandoned his book eventually and returned to the dock. By this point, both had grown tired of painting, and they left it in favor of a new activity.

This was how the day carried on, moving between new activities with a fleeting commitment to each pastime. Naveen’s new lease on life meant that he didn’t need to finish anything for the sake of completion, and this philosophy ruled their time together.

Ethan and Naveen played a game of chess while Francesca played with Jenner, and when they discussed another match, a casual suggestion was made to play cards which was enough to change course. Francesca joined them during the second round, and this continued until they found something new to do.

When the sun set on their day on the river, Dr. Banerji invited them to stay for dinner and declining never occurred to either of his guests. Banerji took the lead in cooking dinner, though he promptly found helpers.

Jenner parked himself in the kitchen, waiting for scraps, and Francesca sneaked him treats quite frequently. Ethan pretended not to notice and Naveen hid his smile by focusing on the fish. When they finished cooking, they carried their meal to the deck overlooking the river. Ethan lit the candles while Naveen and Francesca set the table. Once they were seated, a bottle of white wine was opened and as they enjoyed the sunset their conversations were littered with more laughter and smiles. 

Dr. Banjeri raised his glass, “To good friends and time well spent,” he toasted, and suddenly, an unwanted reminder presented itself… he’s still dying. A lump formed in Ethan’s throat as he raised his glass, and without missing a beat, Francesca’s hand silently rested on his beneath the table, offering solace.

Ethan’s smile was grateful and adoring as he looked down at Francesca, and Naveen felt a sense of relief wash over him. His boy was loved…

Dinner carried on in the same spirit of their day. The jokes carried on with particular attention to Ethan’s less than stellar cooking abilities, and they enjoyed teasing each other. Long after they finished their food, they continued their conversation with wine under the moonlight. Francesca had never seen Ethan so at ease.

Eventually, the conversation shifted to hospital gossip. Naveen, now out of hiding, remained in contact with several of his friends at Edenbrook but was eager to hear more. Remembering how much he loved gossip, Francesca happily obliged.

“From what I hear, Dr. Lahela has quickly amassed a group of followers,” Dr. Banerji’s smile was full of mischief, “You’re friends with him, no?”

“Bryce and I are friends, yes,” Francesca nodded her head, amused by Naveen’s apparent enthusiasm.

“Is he as scandalous as the rumors say?”

“Even more so.” She thought about his confident swagger and nursing staff fan club. “But for me, he’s just a big brother, which is nice since I’m so far away from my own.”

“Yes, it’s nice when we are able to choose family, and flattering when they let us!” Naveen looked to Ethan fondly. “Speaking of flattery, I hear congratulations are in order. Ethan tells me you performed exceptionally well after the subway derailment. You helped save Rafael Aveiro’s life,” Naveen held his glass up in a toast of respect, “He’s a fine man, a real hero.”

Francesca looked at Ethan a bit shocked, first that he knew about it and then that he had been speaking to Dr. Banjeri about her at all. She turned back to Naveen, “Yes, he’s a very close friend and seeing him like that was terrifying. However, the fact that I helped save his life via actual surgery with the Chief, well that was beyond incredible.”

Ethan had learned the story from Chief Emery, and he felt a swell of pride in his chest that his protege had held her own in the O.R. with such a prestigious surgeon. He raised his glass in a similar congratulations, but when his eyes met hers it was as if the continued mentions of Edenbrook had brought all of the issues surrounding each of their careers to the surface. The idyllic fantasy shattered; they were not two lovebirds enjoying a day with a mutual friend. It was always more complicated than that…

Naveen filled the silence with a story from his youth, and slowly, they both engaged again. They laughed and participated, and truly enjoyed themselves. Their conversations carried late into the evening, but every good day must end.

Containing their yawns, the group of three finally concluded their time together. Naveen was exhausted but still sad to see his friends go. He hugged each of them tightly and sincerely, giving Francesca a kiss on the cheek as she went. He bid farewell to Jenner with a playful scratch under his chin, and he waved them all off as their car disappeared down the drive almost eight hours after arriving.

Francesca’s day with Dr. Ramsey was coming to a close, and the early moonlight illuminated all of the illusions they shared. Today had been wonderful and magical and fun, and away from hospital politics, they were two people spending time with a dear friend. But as the city of Boston approached them, they were also two people, irrevocably connected but divided by personal fears and unspoken words.

The drive to Boston was quiet.

Jenner had fallen asleep in Francesca’s lap early into the drive, snoozing contently after a long day at the river his head rested comfortably on her chest. For the first time, Ethan was sincerely jealous of his dog. Francesca’s directions were no longer needed, and for that, she was grateful. Her mind already felt as if it were bursting at the seams with too many thoughts, and she stared into the passing scenery as if the appearance of nightfall could provide elusive clarity.

The problem with a magical day is that the sun always sets, and when it does, you’re left in the dark.

CHAPTER THREE

#choices #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #dr ramsey #open heart #edenbrook #choices game #naveen #fanfic #choices fanfiction #open heart fanfiction #open heart ethan ramsey #choices fandom #ramsey stan

[kjs-s]

Caught in the crossfire

Fandoms Marvel and The Losers

Pairing Steve Rogers x reader platonic

Summary  Steve and the reader are recruited to go after some rogue agents but end up involved in a more tricky case.

Words 1800

Warnings  shooting and mention of war

A/N This is my second entry for @locke-writes cinema rewrite challenge. I hope you like it. I found it sa funny that the movie was on when i was reading this last week.

You kept scrolling through the internal memos left on your old tablet, notifying you about everything that had happened with your old partner and his new team. There has been more than a year since you left the Special Forces to join the Avengers. At first, you were content there, up until the horrible remarks one of your supervisors kept making about your work ethics and professionalism drove you to quit. Fortunately, it only took a week for your best friend to come through. Clint was the only person you had told about your work and he loved sharing stories with you. Pizza parties at his house so you can play with his dog was your favorite pastime. Therefore, he offered you a job with him almost immediately. In addition, he appointed himself in charge of your training even though you ended up going on more mission with Steve. You two had just gotten back from a five-month mission to stop an alien attack. However, instead of getting some much-needed rest you found yourself in Steve’s office asking for time off.

‘’ I understand that it might sound crazy or irrational but I am certain something is going on there. I trusted Clay with my life for so long that I know him more than everyone else. You can ask Clint about all the times that lunatic has saved my life. I may not know the rest of his team although I am certain they are trustworthy.’’ You were talking fast so you needed to take a breath.

‘’I trust your judgment on your former partner. You have shown me that you have the ability to read people. I understand if you want to investigate what is going on with them. Why don’t you fill me in? Preferably on a slower pace so I can follow the story?’’

‘’Apparently, there was a mission to search and destroy a drug lord in Bolivia. The memo states that Clay and his team made a deal with the target and betrayed the Special Forces. That forced another team to be deployed in order to finish the mission and they ended up killing the first one.’’

‘’I am so sorry to hear that. And now you hope you can find evidence to clear their names?’’ Steve seemed surprised because he thought there were still alive when you mentioned them at first.

‘’No, that’s not what I need to do. As I read, ‘’The covert team is still alive. They attacked a convoy that was heading to a safe house and stole one of the vehicles. They used a stolen helicopter.’’ Stealing a police helicopter is an extremely risky move. Why would they do that just to steal a van? It doesn’t make any sense.’’

‘’Is it possible that they would try to either clear their names or get back at someone they believe is responsible for what happened? Who authorized the Bolivia mission?’’

‘’Their supervisor, let me check the name.’’ The expression on your face made Steve not want to find out what that person ever did to you. He knew you had quit due to one of your superiors and he assumed that was the codename you saw.

‘’I can’t believe that guy. I am certain he has something to do with this. Not just because I hate him. I honestly believe that.’’ You tried in vain to hide your hatred.

‘’Fine, I respect it. I assume that he has people working for him who would be dangerous. I will have Friday search for your friend and his team. Afterward, I will help you find out the truth and find evidence on Max.’’

It took only a few hours for Friday to track the team to an abandoned warehouse in Miami. When you landed the jet there, you knew the team would be ready to defend themselves.

‘’Clay are you here? It’s (Y/N). And I am positive you know who he is.’’ You pointed at Steve who was just standing around evaluating the situation.

‘’We are here to help. You were my mentor and I know someone tried to kill you and frame you for what happened in Bolivia.’’

‘’How do you know that?’’ A young, good-looking man spoke up from his hiding place. You could see that he was dressed in a ridiculous bike messenger outfit.

‘’ I can still get the internal memos since someone forgot to remove me from the list. Which is a good thing considering that I can help you if something is indeed going on. Sorry I’m asking, but what are you wearing?’’

‘’Can’t say, part of the plan. Does your friend there talk at all?’’ Jensen sensed right away that you were both trustworthy but wanted the others’ permission to share any information.

‘’I do, when I have something to say. I’m Steve and (Y/N) thinks we can be of service to clear your names.’’

‘’Jensen. And we are looking for revenge.’’

‘’I think you said enough.’’ Clay interrupted your conversation. ‘’I will fill our guests in. This one here own me a lot and promised me to never betray me.’’

‘’It was a pinky promise. I always keep those.’’ You spread your arms inviting your friend for a hug like you always used to do to tease him about the whole tough act.

They informed you about Max’s actions and their plan to steal a hard drive from him to prove his actions. It seemed like you weren’t needed although having two extra sets of hand, as back up couldn’t hurt.

‘’Since all we can do now is wait for the class clown to finish his part of the mission, might telling me what do you expect to do next? Stealing from him will get you nothing. We need to make sure he pays.’’ You asked Clay showing how much you still detested your old boss.

‘’I had no idea he acted that way around you. I just thought you needed some time away from the action. And look at you now, an Avengers working with the country’s poster boy.’’

‘’I wanted to come here alone but he is our leader. Looking after the rookie is part of his job. Looks like your boy is successful.’’ You wanted to not comment on your treatment. You had long forgiven Clay for not noticing it.

 While the team was working on the hard drive, Steve pulled you aside.

‘’I know that you expect me to talk like a leader and scold you for something. I am joking, those guys are great. Their stories made me feel like I was back at war, making split-second decisions. I don’t approve how they hijacked a helicopter that was dispatched for injured soldiers. However, I understand it was necessary. I’m glad we are helping them.’’

‘’I feel like you are about to tell me something I won’t like.’’

‘’We just need to act quickly. Our involvement will make things go public rapidly.’’ You agreed with him and promised to try your best and for Steve to not get any spotlight.

‘’We found his base of operation. We are headed to Los Angeles. Are you going to come with us?’’ Clay showed you the spot at the port and their mean of transportation.

‘’I think it’s better we get the jet. That way we won’t raise any suspicion and get the element of surprise. Send me the coordinates and we will meet you there.’’

Before landing in the port, you received an encrypted message from Clay. He informed you about Aisha leaving and that he wanted to proceed on his own. You admired him for his dedication to the team. However, that didn’t mean that he had to always be the hero. Refusing your help never stopped you from being a part of a team that could use any assistance. You were surprised about Aisha since you thought she seemed genuine. Steve didn’t share your opinions for he had met many people who betrayed him in the past.

You searched around for a while before finding the team. They had been captured by Special Forces men who were leading them away from your position. Steve reached for his shield but you nodded for him to stop. Drawing attention to yourselves wouldn’t get anything done.

‘’Let’s stay on them to see where they are taking them. If they make any move to shoot them, then we return the shots. You said it yourself, we need to stay unseen. We can’t have the Avengers involved in this.’’

As soon as they stopped, you found a great spot to monitor them. That’s when Steve noticed Aisha pointing a missile at one of the planes.

‘’She is probably here to help. When she fires that, we start shooting to rescue our friends.’’ It all went according to plan, with one issue left to be dealt with.

‘’I saw many armed people while we were coming here. I assume your target would be there with his weapons. Let’s finish your mission.’’ Steve couldn’t help but sound in commend. You then noticed your teammate had been shot in both legs. And having the others asking him if he can stand wouldn’t be pleasant either.

Taking down the rest of your enemies was easy. However, Max still got away. Fortunately, you managed to fire a missile on his plane that was filled with money.

‘’Good job (Y/N). I always knew I could count on you.’’ Clay still sounded like your big brother.

‘’And I always knew you would save my life, time after time. Choosing to let him go to not destroy the whole city is exactly what a hero does. Are you going to tell me what is going on with Aisha now or do I have to wait until we get your teammate to the hospital?’’

‘’She is the drug lord’s daughter. Yes, the one I killed. I bet she won’t let me forget about it any time soon.’’

In the hospital waiting room, everyone thanked you and Steve for helping them. You were just glad that it was over. Steve knew it wasn’t the right time then again he promised to keep an eye out for any more corrupt federal agents. He also offered to make the team official consultants for the Avengers.

‘’That would be great. Especially if it means we will get to see more of the two of you.’’ Clay accepted the offer and Jensen handed you and Steve pink shirts.

‘’Also, if you are not busy saving the world or anything, my niece’s soccer team is playing in a few days. You should come. They are in the playoffs.’’

@writing-journeyx   @sprinkleofhappinessuniverse  @agentpeggicarter @ohyesmarvel  @buckyofthemyscira @romantichen @once-upon-an-imagine @marveliskindacool  @jurassicbarnes @uncomfortable-writers @theassetseyeliner @sgtbxckybxrnes @thetherianthropydaily @dresupi @redgillan  @captainrogerss @musikat18 @justreadingfics @murdocksmartinis

#noahs cinema rewrite challenge #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x reader #marvel fic #the losers movie #the losers fic #movie rewrite

[nadziejastar]

If both Lea and Isa went through mind control programming how did Axel turn out so well adjusted?

Axel Is A Fucked Up Guy

Ansem the Wise: Xehanort. Foolish apprentice of a foolish man. You have surpassed nothing—only proved how little we both know. We may profess to know the heart, but its essence is beyond our reach.

If you’re asking how a person could be subjected to mind control and still be a good person, and not a total psychopath…well…that’s kind of the mystery of the human condition, no? Polish psychologist Kazimierz Dąbrowski was caught in World War II and endured harsh incarceration in German prison system and later, he and his wife were imprisoned again in Stalin-controlled Poland. He said he could find no theory of psychology that could adequately explain both the lowest and most depraved behavior he saw, as well as the most heroic and highest acts he had witnessed in the war. He dedicated his life to the study of personality development.

Axel: We are just Nobodies who have no one to be, yet we still “are.” But now you can be nothing instead of just being a Nobody. You’re off the hook.

Vexen: No… Please don’t! I don’t want to—

Axel: Goodbye.

But I would actually argue that Axel was NOT well-adjusted, even though a lot of people might have interpreted him to be that way. Not at all. To me, KH3 is the only game that tried to make him seem well-adjusted and “normal”. A cool ice cream bro who breaks the fourth wall. Which I hated. And even then, there’s still plenty of signs that he’s not really recovered from his past.

It seems like a lot of people took Roxas and Xion’s understanding of Axel—a happy-go-lucky big brother—at face value. But it was clear that they didn’t know him at all. He had a very tragic life. He used to be a normal, happy kid and became a lonely, cynical, bitter assassin. He absolutely despised the organization. You could tell that he took great pleasure when he eliminated Vexen. It had nothing to do with some phantom girl he wasn’t sure existed. He said he had “no one to be”.It was very personal. 

Sora: None of that matters! Just put Riku back!

Vexen: Just put him back? The Riku you speak of…has but one fate, to sink into the darkness—and you will share that fate, Sora! If you continue to seek the girl, Naminé, the shackles will tighten, you’ll lose your heart…and end up becoming Marluxia’s pawn!

Personally, I think Axel especially enjoyed killing Vexen when Sora began pleading with him to change Riku back. That would hit really close to home, and must have been a HUGE trigger for him. Whether he was planning to already or not, that was when Vexen needed to die. I also think it’s why he took such a liking to Sora. 

It was Sora’s devotion to Riku that stood out the most to Axel in Castle Oblivion. Even more than his connection to Roxas.Right after Sora and Riku had a fight, Axel has a scene with Naminé.

Axel: Heh heh… I know exactly how you feel. Don’t get your hopes up. Nobodies can’t be somebodies. But think, Naminé. I’m sure there’s SOMETHING you could do…

This is Axel’s quote from the original Chain of Memories.

Axel: Does it hurt, Naminé? Watching your two childhood friends fight all because of you? You have my sympathies. From the heart. But don’t waste your time. We Nobodies can never hope to be somebodies.

And this is his quote from Re:Chain of Memories. He’s a LOT colder to her. And I don’t think it was because he had no heart. I think he was so cold to her because he had begun to develop a heart. Naminé’s the wedge that’s driving two close childhood friends apart. It hit WAY too close to home for Axel. And he truly hated her for it. He was dead serious when he said he had absolutely NO sympathy for her.

Riku: Hmph. Too bad, Sora. You can fight me all you want, but I still won’t remember a thing.

Sora: C'mon, Riku… Let’s quit fighting—let’s go help Naminé.

Riku: Together—right. So like you… …Sora—you’re always trying to worm your way into my heart!

Sora: Hold on! When did I ever do that?

Riku: Hmph, you forgot that, too? You never cared. It never mattered to you!

Sora: You won’t push me away.

He knew how the Riku Replica felt, thinking his friend didn’t care about him. And he knows only too well how Sora felt, trying to “worm his way” into his friend’s heart, only to be coldly rejected. And everything about it disgusted him. Sora is a lot like Lea. It made him remember what it was like to have such a strong bond, and how traumatized he was when he lost it. But Sora refused to take no for an answer. Just like him. But of course, that wasn’t really Riku anyways. Axel knew that. Sora’s friendship will be okay. But Axel’s won’t.

Axel: Is that your shield? Won’t do you any good, I’m afraid.

Axel wanted to save Sora. But he couldn’t have cared less if he killed Naminé. He wouldn’t have batted an eyelash. If anything, he would have been more than happy to do it. He knew she was an innocent young girl who was just an unwilling pawn of the Organization. He didn’t care. It’s so messed up if you think about it. He’d murder a terrified little girl—and he’d do it with a smile on his face. That’s how much he hated anyone who would cause a rift between childhood friends. That’s how devastated he was after the loss of Isa. He has extreme, deep-seated hatred inside of him.

Axel didn’t waste a second grabbing his chakrams. But his body was reluctant somehow.

I don’t want to disappear… But still, it wouldn’t be so bad if I did. Not here.

Axel let out a deep breath and leaped into the air as flames erupted around them.

“…Pathetic!” The Claymore moved to block Axel’s strike, while Saïx himself didn’t even twitch.

This is a pretty overwhelming disadvantage, Axel thought. Well, I knew that before we started fighting. I can’t win against Saïx with my own strength.

Still, he refused to hesitate. He had to force this path open. He wanted…to find hope—the hope that Sora and Riku had.

Saïx gave him a cruel grin. “You will lose everything!” And then the Claymore pierced Axel’s chest.

In my opinion, Axel changed because of Sora and Riku. When he came back from Castle Oblivion, his relationship with Saïx became very strained. Those two reminded him of what he used to have, and it’s unbearable to him that he no longer has it. At the end of KH2, while fighting Saïx, he said that he wanted the hope that Sora and Riku had. He wished that Saïx was just a fake replica the whole time, and that none of the awful things he said were true. The real version had actually gone away to protect him, but he’d show up later, and they could go back to being friends. Hmmm.

Sora: What are you— What ARE you people?!

Axel: Hm… Don’t know. I wonder about that myself.

When Axel saw the way Sora reacted when he killed Vexen, it made him feel ashamed. He realized that “normal” people are horrified by his actions, even when he is acting on their behalf. Sora was furious with Vexen, but even he was appalled by what Axel did.

Sora: After I finish you, he’s next!

Axel: Hmph. Now, Sora. We’ve got more in common than you might think. I’d really rather not fight you… But I can’t dishonor the Organization, now, can I?

Axel: You’re better than I thought you’d be. It was worth saving you after all.

Axel identifies with Sora, but Sora sees him as a monster. Maybe he was relatively well-adjusted compared to some of his fellow Organization members, at least in the morality department. But his “happy-go-lucky big brother” persona was mostly just a facade to cover up a very dysfunctional and wounded person. That was the mask he was comfortable showing outwardly. But it was not his true self.

Day 74: Xion’s Face

Honestly, I never got why Roxas was so crazy about Xion. I know they both joined up around the same time, and they’re both rookies, but how do you get so close to somebody who hides their face all the time? Well, I saw it today. All of a sudden, No. XIV up and takes off…her hood. Xion is a girl, and she looks just like Naminé.

It’s why he acted so strangely when he saw Xion’s face for the first time. He’s looking into the face of the little girl he was willing to murder, who is now asking to be his friend. It freaked him the fuck out. And it made him feel like total shit.

Roxas: When I saw her lying there… I couldn’t stop thinking that she’ll never wake up.

Axel: She will.

Roxas: Saïx called her “broken.”

Axel: Hmm… Well, if it cheers you up, I’m probably a lot more broken than her.

Underneath the mask, was a really fucked up guy who had a LOT of issues. And he KNEW it.

Axel stretched his neck and munched on his ice cream. “You know, I don’t mind disappearing.”

Naminé’s breath caught.

Riku stared at him.

“Roxas is gone. When we bring Kairi here, Naminé will be gone, too. So, same for me,” he said, as if he were discussing the weather, and then punctuated his comment with another bite of sea-salt ice cream.

“We don’t disappear… We’re only reborn,” Naminé murmured, perhaps to herself.

“I’m not like you and Roxas,” Axel said flatly. His hand holding the ice pop stick paused in midair.

“But—but you…” She looked down, clenching her fists.

“It’s because I don’t have a heart,” Axel went on. “I don’t want to disappear, but I’m not upset or sad about it.”

Why was he so convinced that he’s not like Roxas and Naminé? Because he’s not innocent anymore. He’s not going to get a next life because he doesn’t think he deserves one. In his mind, he’s not a good person. He’s done bad things. And he’s poisoned by hatred. I think that’s exactly why he clung to Roxas and Xion so much in the first place, aside from sheer loneliness.

They made him remember who he was before he became so fucked up. But he’d never, EVER tell them some of the things he’s done, or what he’s truly capable of. They’d be horrified and he knows it. He’s always eating ice cream during stressful moments in the novel. Even when he’s literally dying. The shittier he feels, the more he eats. The ice cream is comforting to him because it’s something he used to do in the past with Isa. It reminds him of better days. It’s almost like an addiction. Sea-salt ice cream is viewed as this cute, happy thing. But the reason it is so significant to Axel is because he’s in unbearable pain.

Kairi: So, you gonna try yours on?

Lea: Uh…I dunno. Maybe later.

Kairi: But you always wear the same thing.

Lea: If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. This is how you pick me out of a crowd. I make myself easy to remember.

Even in KH3, he won’t take off his old clothes and always stares off into the distance. In my opinion, this has nothing to do with Roxas or Xion. It’s because he’s got baggage. Serious unresolved baggage, connected to his time in the Organization XIII cult. I cannot describe how much I despise the way KH3 downplayed this, and made it seem like his only problem in life was not having Roxas around to hang out with. It felt SO out-of-character to me. Of course he’d want to see Roxas again (who is actually Ventus, IMO). But his entire life doesn’t and shouldn’t revolve around that. He had a life before Roxas and that deserved attention. Isa was the root cause of Lea’s pain.

Axel’s title in the series translates into English as “Flurry of Dancing Flames,” but this doesn’t quite capture the meaning of the original Japanese. The English title implies that Axel himself is fire, but the literal parsing of the Japanese phrase is more like “dancing fire’s wind.”

I think that Axel’s title is about Isa. “Tandava” or dance of destruction, is a divine dance performed by the Hindu god Shiva, where he is infamously depicted surrounded by a circle of flames. It symbolizes the cycles of creation and destruction. Sati grew up devoted to Shiva and spurned the advances of rich kings to the point where she left for a forest to escape the constant proposals. Eventually Shiva consented to make her his bride, and, elated, Sati went to share the news with her father.

Axel: Nothing lasts forever, man. Least of all for a bunch of Nobodies. But you know, we’ll still have each other…even if things change and we can’t do this anymore.

Roxas: Yeah?

Axel: As long as we remember each other, we’ll never be apart. Got it memorized?

Roxas: Ha ha, wow, Axel. That sounded ridiculous.

Axel: What? I thought it was pretty deep.

However, upon her father’s expression of his disapproval of her marriage, she immolated herself, praying to one day be reborn as a daughter to a father she could respect. Angered and grief-stricken after learning of Sati’s death, Shiva performed a terrible Tandava. The more Shiva danced, the more destruction arose. Out of grief and sorrow, Shiva carried Sati’s body and roamed around the universe with it, reminiscing of their moments as a couple. It sounds a lot like Axel to me. His relationship with Saïx is akin to carrying a corpse around. Isa’s even got the giant scar on his forehead which literally means “death”.

Eventually, Sati was reborn as Parvati. This time, she was born the daughter of a father whom she could respect; a father who appreciated Shiva ardently. Naturally, she grew up to be a beautiful woman and over time, she grew to love Shiva with her whole heart. Eventually, they married. The two are literally inseparable, as they have a form where they are fused together as one. Their fused form is another symbol of duality. It’s basically the Hindu version of the Red King and White Queen of alchemy.

Another reason I think Axel’s title was about Isa? Well, because that’s what his Mystery Gear weapon was about, too. The Jade Emperor wanted to test the virtue of the hare and his friends. They all gave him food. But the hare had no food except the grass growing in the forest. So he told the Jade Emperor to build a fire, and when the fire was burning, he said “I have nothing to give you to eat but myself!” Then, the hare threw himself into the fire.

Of course, the Jade Emperor caused the fire to go instantly cold so that the hare was not burned, and then revealed his true form. And then he painted the hare’s likeness on the face of the moon for all to see, so that his virtue would be remembered throughout the ages. The rabbit was unharmed and lived happily ever after. In some versions, he actually is taken to the moon and becomes immortal. But the rabbit hasn’t gotten to the moon yet. He doesn’t know that the Isa he remembers is still alive.

Xemnas: There hangs the heart of all hearts–Kingdom Hearts–shining down on us at last. See the countless hearts that have gathered? Hearts full of rage…hate…sadness…and bliss. There, in the sky, hangs the promise of a new world.

In addition to his own abuse, Axel is fucked up because of Isa. He’s angry at what they did to him, and he’s devastated over losing him. He was an emotional wreck, filled with rage, hate, and sadness. His entire arc was building up suspense for the “bliss” part…and then they did a bait-and-switch.

#kingdom hearts #kh axel #kh lea #kh meta #kh isa #kh isalea #khleaisa #kh akusai #anti-kh3