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mangekyuou · 6 months

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If you are up to it and haven’t already done it. Could you pretty please write head cannons of the kid, heart, and straw hat pirates as parents. My favorite one is killer.

★ THEM AS PARENTS! headcanons ★

── featuring. sanji. zoro. kid. killer.

── cw. gn!reader. no pronouns used. no mentions of pregnancy. whole cake island and wano spoilers. me rambling again. not proofread.

── notepad. usually my limit is 3 but i added one more bcuz i felt inspired. it’s been awhile since ive written so i feel out of practice and these feel all over the place im so sorry. but i will say, i love you girl dad zoro and killer. i could talk about them forever

★ VINSMOKE SANJI ★

── unlike everyone else, sanji HAS thought about settling down and having kids. he thinks about it at least twenty times a day. every time he looks at you, he’s always thinking about your future together

── so when your twin boy and girl show up in your lives, he couldn’t be happier. he’s never been happier. life is finally coming together the both of you

── he loves your twins with all of his heart, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t want any more children. he’s already dreamed of having a big family that he can share all of his love and care with. and because he already had at least four baby names picked out

── given his own upbringing that he never ever plans to tell your children about, sanji takes his fatherly role very seriously. he does everything in his power to be better than his own father

── never will he allow any of his children to take his surname. he would prefer if they took yours or even adopted a new one altogether

── never will there be any middle child syndrome or favoritism between your kids. he loves each of them equally and does pretty well at spreading out his time with each of them, making all of them feel loved and cared for

── every night he gives everyone a long tearful good night before sending them all their separate ways like he’s never going to see them again….they’re just down the hall

── he is a very emotional father. no matter what your children do, milestone or not, he will sob. first words and steps, sobbing. finally being able to dress themselves, sobbing. nearly setting the kitchen on fire attempting to make him a birthday cake, he sobbed all day and tried to eat the inedible cake despite you telling him NOT to

── he was sick for a few weeks after that. how the cake was both overcooked and undercooked at the same time, neither of you could ever figure it out

── his favorite family activity is cooking together. he loves cooking for each of you, but there’s something about teaching your little ones all of his favorite recipes, or even learning how to make a whole new dish altogether, that warms his heart. plus seeing them all get along and work together as a team brings joyful tears to his eyes

── but he can definitely be the indulgent parent. all his kids have to do is flash him the puppy eyes and a pout and he’s a goner, leaving you to play the authoritative parent and say no

── he is also the affectionate, embarrassing, and petty dad, always smothering the little ones in hugs no matter how old they get

── they could be in their late teens and he’ll still hug them the same as he did when they were small. or he’ll embarrass them in front of their friends by yelling how much he loves them and expects them to say ‘i love you’ back OR he’s not going to let them go anywhere

★ RORONOA ZORO ★

── girl dad

── the thought of being a dad never crossed his mind. he was focused on his goal at hand, becoming the greatest swordsman. he wasn’t exactly sure having a kid would fit in that

── but he was going to have to figure it out because resting in his arms was an infant girl with the most precious cheeks

── you don’t have to worry much about your daughter, even in infancy your daughter adopted your husband’s calm and quiet nature. she even adopted his napping habits

── if he’s asleep out on the deck in the sun, she’s asleep out on the deck, either in his chest or in his lap. and no one dares to wake them, especially not after that time when usopp and sanji were arguing too loud, causing your daughter to stir in her sleep, alerting zoro immediately. in a matter of seconds, he held your baby in one hand and his unsheathed sword in the other

── nap time is a VERY serious thing

── though your daughter’s favorite place to rest is on his back. no matter how awake she may seem, the minute he wraps her in the baby wrap, she’s suddenly very sleepy

── if you’re looking for your daughter and you don’t immediately see her, don’t panic. nine times out of ten, she’s on zoro’s back napping

── she is always present during his training sessions in a little swing franky made and surprised you both with that way he can train and keep an eye on her at the same time. maybe that’s why your little girl ended up showing so much interest in swords as she grew up

── like father, like daughter. your daughter began her road to being a swordsman with zoro as her teacher. he learns from his own past failures, in guiding her to be an even better swordsman than him

── not only giving her the skills she needs to wield a blade, but also skills she will need to grow as a person

── when he is sure he has trained her well enough for them to spar, he will do so without mercy. she may lose a number of times, but to never give up is a skill he instilled in her since the beginning of her training

── and when she finally does best her father, he cannot hide just how proud he is. he’s in all dad mode

★ EUSTASS KID ★

── kid never pictured being in a stable relationship, let alone settling down and having children. he didn’t have much experience with children

── in reality, being a father scared him. it was uncharted waters. he didn’t know the first thing about being a good dad. he knew kids were a lot of work, and he didn’t know if he could handle it

── more importantly, he was worried he was going to let both you and your child down. and he couldn’t live with that

── but here he was now struggling his way through the baby and toddler stages. but through his mistakes and errors, as opposed to getting angry and giving up, like he usually does, he’s gaining patience and trying his best. that’s all anyone could ever ask for

── he becomes a natural over time. no longer needing you to intervene to keep your son from crying up a storm. if it’s taking a little longer than usual to put your son to sleep, and you offer to help, he will decline. his stubbornness and pride won’t allow him to accept your help

── if there’s one thing kid hates more than anything, it’s anyone thinking he can’t take care of his son

── it’s not uncommon to see the captain of the kid pirates to be seen around the victoria punk your son strapped to his chest

── it’s hard to take him seriously when he’s barking out orders to the crew and your excitable little one is reaching up to pinch and pull at his father’s cheeks and nose

── kid claims to not be a dad who cries, but he definitely does cry, oftentimes more than you do

── your son’s first word is definitely a swear word. kid thinks it’s hilarious seeing your son scream fuck

── as your son ages, the more he becomes just like his father. and with age comes the attitude, which does not mesh well with kid’s attitude

── never in a million years would you think you would find kid losing a loud argument to your fussy toddler son about nothing

── and it does not change. it continues to get worse as your son begins to form his own opinions. your son and kid clash even more, leading you to be the mediator between their arguments

── or at points when they stop talking altogether, you have to relay messages to the other because they refuse to be in the same room with each other

── kid wants to start your son off young when it comes to training him, wanting the little one to be hell just like him. if your son expresses interest in learning how to fight, kid is overjoyed but does not plan to take it easy on him just because they’re blood

── if your son has no interest in fighting and wants to lead a peaceful life, kid will be disappointed and it will take some time for it to get out of his system. but he ultimately will support his son’s decisions

── kid has a habit of ruffling your son’s hair or knocking heads as his way of showing affection. that’s just how it has always been since he was born. but the day your son decides to leave the ship to start the new chapter of his life is the first time they share a real hug

★ KILLER ★

── killer is prime girl dad material. king of girl dads, if you will. he’s a natural. well, he becomes a natural after he gets over his fear of holding your daughter

── he has led a complicated life up to this point. it is not something he regrets, but it is something that he worries could affect his family

── these calloused hands have killed, been stained with the blood of dozens, he had lost count. these were not the hands that should hold such a pure soul

── the first time he actually held her was in the middle of the night when she woke up crying in the middle of the night. he pondered on waking you but decided against it seeing you sound asleep. it has been a while since you had gotten a good sleep. you deserved your rest

── he had watched you countless times lull your little one back to sleep. he remembered how you did it, trying his best to keep his shaky hands still, reaching into your little’s crib, gently taking her into his arms

── who knew saying “please don’t cry” in a sweet low voice would be enough to calm her ??

── quite a sight you awoke to, seeing your husband passed out in a chair with your daughter still asleep in his arms

── it became part of his routine, every time she woke up in the middle of the night, he was going to take care of it. when she was old enough to sleep in the bed with the two of you, you better believe she took her place in the middle and kept it well into her late childhood, early teens

── they are attached at the hip. wherever she is, he is and vice versa, no matter the situation

── like the one time the kid called for an emergency meeting and killer could not find you in time so he just took your daughter with him

── everyone was on their best behavior because you had already warned them that if her first word was a swear word you would murder each of them and spread their body parts across the grand line for the sea king to feast upon

── ….they were not going to take the chances

── just your luck, your daughter inherited killer’s luscious hair. no matter what you do to it, no matter how hard you attempt to gel it down, it shoots right back up

── but killer’s got it. he does her hair most days because she prefers it that way they end up matching

── there are two things about killer that he is still very sensitive about. his appearance and his laugh, both things he tries to hide from your daughter. though it is easier to hide his appearance than his laugh

── after everything happened in wano, he was ashamed. he couldn’t bear letting her see him like this. he wanted her to remember him the way he used to look. he wasn’t ready to show her, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready.

── until he was ready, he allows her to place her hands on his mask and put together what she thinks he looks like.

── currently, she envisions him to be a snake monster under his mask

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violetmuses · 2 years

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Black Rose || Chapter 9

Author’s Note: It's time! As a warning, this chapter includes dark content, strong language, angst and other possibly triggering themes. Please read at your own risk.

2013

Leo Hill

Even after “joining” our group back in the day, I’ve watched it all from the sidelines ever since Drew and Russ walked into the shop. I’d picked up that trade in an effort to make money and fall back on something just in case my dream didn’t work out.

“About time.” I was in the middle of drinking coffee in the kitchen on my day off when this long-awaited subject line pinged on one email:

Subject Line: Findings Updated.

For as long as I could remember, I’d always been fascinated by family history, whether it related to me or not. Not only had I made a point to help Cyrus find his biological brother, but we moved deeper, trying to figure out why he never favored his mother from a genetic standpoint.

Although recessive traits were known around families, something still didn’t add up. This case had bothered me ever since, even if Russ and Tobias didn’t make a bigger deal out of this scenario.

“Oh, shit.” I pulled back and covered my mouth, scaling over exactly what I’d read at this point. Hurrying to call Russ, I should’ve speed-dialed or something just to stop letting my own heart race.

"What’s up?” On the line hand during the phone call, Russ answered by that second ring and sounded exhausted for whatever despite this weekend’s usual happiness.

“Bro, I found more information. Remember how we couldn’t figure out why your family isn't really lining up?” I shouldered the phone, but kept glancing towards my laptop screen in one way or another.

“Recessive traits, L. Stop tripping.” Russ yawned on the other line and probably hadn’t reached for coffee yet. Relatable.

“Nah, it’s bigger than that. Someone in your family was placed in foster care about two years after you were born.” I squinted, scrolling down on my screen again to see more information.

“You found one of my cousins? That’s dope.” Cyrus aimed to guess and joy perked up in his voice by now.

“No, closer than that.” I lowered my voice, which sent him back into reality. Silence reached for the phone this time before he spoke up.

“What are you saying, L?” Speaking up on the other line, Russ handed over that extremely logical and fair question. Of course, I had no other choice but to answer him.

“Keep score. You’ve got another brother, man. Born in 1981.” It wasn’t long before I finally brought down the hammer. Enough was enough.

“Damn. So far, there’s three of us.” Russ whispered. “Tobias, me and this new cat.”

“Yep.” I affirmed.

“What’s his name?” Cyrus questioned.

“Let’s see. He was adopted by Italians who lived not far away from us. I’m about to check his name for good now because that could have been anybody, y’know?” I scoffed without explaining some kind of joke.

“Right, right.” Cyrus understood my point again. We had lived around people like that most of our lives anway and those particular surnames were common in New York to begin with.

“What the fuck?!” I nearly jumped out of this kitchen table’s chair and nearly dropped my cell phone.

“Yo, what happened?” Cyrus shouted on the other line. My heart dropped and raced all at the same time.

“Shit! No way. No way. That’s impossible.” I stammered over and over again, trying to blink away what I’d just read from the laptop screen.

“What happened, L? Whose name do you see?” Cy repeated himself before I could even pick up the phone and calm down.

“Bro, you gotta come back down here. I can't give out everything else over the phone.” I shook my head again and hung up our call, still surprised.

______

Days after we freaked out together during that phone call, Cyrus returned to my neck of the woods. He even brought Tobias and Drew along with him. I set out printed pages of the family tree like blueprint documents. Soon after, these two three men sat next to each other with baited breath, already searching for more of the truth.

“Where’s the jackpot?” Cyrus put both eyes downward and faced the printed pages as if staring down another enemy.

“Right here.” Instead of beeline straight towards his father’s lineage, I pointed near his mother’s end of these documents and slid my finger downward three times:

First Biological Child - Tobias

Second Biological Child - Cyrus

Third Biological Child - Eric.

“What the hell?” Cyrus’s voice bridged between bewilderment and anger, probably trying to figure out how to even feel right now. I couldn’t blame him at all.

“Same Mom. Different Dads.” I whispered through the silence.

“That explains so much.” Cyrus nearly fell back in the chair, but Tobias and Drew were there to keep upright.

“It explains everything. Think about it, fellas: How would any complete stranger know that much personal information about Dad to begin with?” Cyrus blinked tears away.

“In my opinion, something felt off when Eric would still visit the club despite so many warnings from us already. Now, it all makes sense.” Drew finally chimed in.

“What’s the move now, are you calling a truce?” I asked, clearing my throat.

“Not yet. I gotta figure out why he kept all these secrets from me.” Cyrus bolted after sitting down and we couldn’t help following behind him.

_________

“What is wrong with you?” Russ yelled straight at Eric the following night. No looking back this time around.

“What are you talking about?” Eric rasped his voice while standing in one VIP section of the club. On the other hand, Tobias kept his distance and returned home to avoid this kind of drama.

“You’re my brother?” Cyrus nearly shoved this man, but stopped himself. Too many witnesses.

“How do you know?” At that moment, Eric froze and turned to face all of us. Cyrus folded both arms, pissed.

“All documented.” I asserted. “Tell the truth. Did you know about your real family this entire time?”

“Yeah. Found out in 2002.” Eric deadpanned.

“And you never told Cyrus?” I pointed backward and Cyrus was on the brink of losing it. Whether anger or sadness would show up, I couldn’t tell yet.

“How was I supposed to say anything? Back then, Cyrus was out here taking people down everywhere. Do you really think I’d want to be in the crossfire?” Eric tried to defend himself, but we all called bullshit.

“Who’s your Dad?” Cyrus lowered his voice this time and we all listened.

“Your father killed him.” Eric shocked us with those words.

“Underwood was your Dad?” Cyrus bellowed out of the question and ended pacing.

“Yes.” Eric confirmed.

#family dynamics #tw angst #strong language #mafia tw #ben barnes #joel kinnaman #my ocs do not steal #black rose #chapter 9 #this changes everything #i've been waiting so long #team eric #team cyrus #tom hardy #plot twist #i've been waiting to write this one #tw: violence #dark themes

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emwritesfootball · 3 years

Text

Dirty Little Secret | Dominic Calvert-Lewin

It's midnight PST which means I'm so far past the deadline for @footballffbarbiex's Summer Writing Challenge but I don't really care. Please enjoy the millionth version of 'sneaking around with a rival' but with DCL. This one's for the babes: @sweetlikesugar9 @dclsbaby @domspeach

Word Count: 3,610

Warnings: light mentions of smut, sneaking around

- - -

Your phone felt heavy in your pocket. You wanted so badly to pull it out and reread the text you’d been sent an hour ago, but then Jordan would be suspicious and you didn’t want to try to cobble together some half-assed explanation that would ultimately end in disaster.

“Are you listening to me?” Jordan asked, huffing your name in frustration. “I swear, you’ve been spacy for the last week. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lied, rolling your eyes. Jordan gave you a disbelieving look, so you elaborated, “Work has been kicking my ass and I’m annoyed, okay? I know it’ll pass, but I’d just like it if you let me handle it on my own.”

Jordan’s face softened. “I’m sorry. And I won’t, alright?” When you nodded, he continued, “But you know that if you ever need me to step in and use my name, I will.”

“I know,” you said, giving him a teary-eyed smile. “You know how much I don’t want that, but if it comes down to it, I’ll let you know.”

“It’s just...you’re my little sister, and I worry about you.” Jordan wrapped his arms around your shoulders and pulled you into a hug.

“Yeah, yeah - I appreciate it.” You paused, finally remembering the conversation from earlier. “Wait, you were saying something about England?”

Jordan smiled, launching into the conversation. “I just got the call from Southgate today. He told me I’ll be part of this upcoming England squad.”

“What?! Jordan, that’s incredible!” You squealed, wrapping him up in a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you!”

“Thanks. I was hoping I’d get the call-up, but with each camp, you never know. And I get older every year and-”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” you scoffed, waving him off. “You’ve done so much for the club and you deserve this. Take the win and move on.”

“I hate it when you’re right, you know.”

You giggled, shoving him playfully. “It feels weird to be the one dispensing life advice to my older brother, so don’t worry, it’s just as weird for me, too.”

You left Jordan’s place a little while later, promising to help him plan an England get-together once the rest of the squad was announced.

Once you were back home, you finally pulled up the text you’d been both excited for and dreading about replying to.

Dominic: When can I see you again?

Just as you started typing, the three dots on his end popped up and you couldn’t help the rush of excitement that pooled in your belly when his latest text came through.

Dominic: I just got good news. Come over and celebrate?

You: I’m on my way

***

The moment Dom opened his front door, his lips were on yours. He pinned you against the door, kissing you hungrily as his hands slid up your shirt. You moaned into his mouth, loving the way his body fit against yours as he swallowed the sound.

“What…” Your thought was cut off as Dom sucked on the sensitive spot on your neck. “What was the good news?”u

“Later,” Dom hummed, nibbling on your earlobe. “I wanna celebrate first.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!” You giggled, the sound quickly turning to a breathy whimper as one of Dom’s hands slid between your legs. “Fuck, Dom! It makes sense - please just take me to bed.”

Dom smirked, grabbing your hand and leading you to the bedroom. He threw you down on the bed, kneeling between your legs as he started to undress you. It had only been a little over a month since the two of you started sleeping together, but neither of you could get enough of each other.

Your name was on his lips as he sucked a mark into your hip, watching as you dug your heels into the mattress while he kissed his way up your inner thighs before sucking on your clit and making you cry out. “You’re always so responsive for me,” he praised, chuckling as he slid two fingers inside you. “So sexy.”

“Please, Dom!” You whimpered, burying your fingers in his curls. “Please make me cum already!”

He responded to your pleas, flipping you over onto your stomach and driving his cock into you. One hand was around your throat, the other smacking your ass as pure filth spewed from his mouth with every thrust. Dom made you feel dirty in the best possible ways and it wasn’t long before you were cumming around his cock, feeling his cum coat your inner walls as he released his own orgasm inside you.

“So, what’s the news?” You asked as you cuddled with Dom, your head on your chest with one hand tracing patterns across his forearm.

“I can’t believe I almost forgot - I got called up to the England squad for this upcoming run of matches.”

He said it so casually that you almost didn’t register what he’d said. “Wait, what?”

“I got another call-up!”

Your stomach bottomed out and you thought you were gonna be sick. “Dom, that’s amazing!” You said, hoping he didn’t notice how preoccupied you sounded.

“Thank you!” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, a much more intimate gesture than the two of you usually did, but you didn’t question it. “You’ll come see me play, right?”

“Of course,” you promised, hoping you sounded sincere.

When he drifted off to sleep, you were still up, your mind racing as you tried to figure out how you were going to tell Dom that you were Jordan Henderson’s baby sister.

***

Anfield. Last Spring.

You flashed your Friends and Family pass to the staff, feeling a bit awkward as you looked for Rebecca and the kids. It wasn’t often that you used the ticket Jordan purchased, preferring the season tickets you’d gotten with friends ages ago on the off-chance you were recognized. The only time you did was for Derby matches, and today was no exception; the ‘Henderson 14’ burning a hole in your back as you took your seat.

The whistle blew and the match began. You were as nervous as you always were during Derby matches, your heart in your throat every time Jordan got the ball. You were always worried something would happen to him on the pitch, what with the countless injuries he’d had over the years.

You cheered along with the rest of the spectators when Mo put one in the back of Pickford’s net a couple minutes outside of the 20th. Richarlison scored moments before the end of the first half, tying it up before the start of the second.

There was a penalty call early on in the second half and your heart stopped as you watched Jordan step up to take it. He hadn’t been in good form to take a pen all season, having missed three of his four pens so far, and you peeked through your fingers, hoping the ball would slot right into the back of the net.

...

It didn’t.

It didn’t, and you were devastated. Suddenly, you didn’t want to be wearing your brother’s jersey anymore. You felt sick as all the friends and family of your brother’s teammates gave you sympathetic pats and hugs while the match wore on.

When Mo scored his second of the night, you screamed until you were hoarse. It wasn’t long after that and the final whistle was blowing and the match ended 2-1 in favour of Liverpool. You hugged Jordan tightly when he finally appeared, giving him a small smile. “Sorry about your pen.”

He stiffened and you instantly knew you’d hit a nerve. Sometimes, he was able to laugh these things off, but tonight apparently wasn’t one of those nights. “Fuck off.”

“You’ll get the next one, I’m sure.” You winced internally as the words came out of your mouth and Jordan’s expression darkened.

Your name was an angry growl on his lips as he said, “If you’re trying to make me feel better, just don’t. I don’t need your sunshine and rainbows opinion - if I want it, I’ll ask, got it?”

His condescending tone ignited your own nerve and you got in his face. “Go to hell, Jordan,” you hissed, your eyes involuntarily welling with tears at the angry confrontation. You turned on your heel and stormed off, ignoring Rebecca’s pleas for you to come back.

You sat in your car, waiting for the tears to subside. It wasn’t often that you fought with him, and to make matters worse, you’d been staying with him for a bit while you looked for a place of your own, so you couldn’t even avoid him at home.

Instead of going home, you headed to your favourite pub. It was low key, and you knew there probably wouldn’t be too many people in there so you could drink in peace. You changed out of the jersey, throwing on a t-shirt you found in the backseat of your car, not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself than usual.

“Can I buy the next?” A man’s voice asked, and you turned to find Dominic Calvert-Lewin sitting on the barstool next to yours.

“Sure,” you said, giving him a small smile. “As long as you let me buy the one after that.”

“You’ve heard, I take it?” Dom gave you a sheepish smile, ducking his head and looking away.

“I was there. Thought you had it for a minute there when that pen didn’t go in.”

“Me, too. I had a couple good shots in there, but none of them ended up going in.”

“I saw.” Dom gave you a look at your comment and the two of you burst into giggles. “Sorry, I just had to say it.”

“Clearly, you know who I am,” he started, his gaze raking over your body. “Can I at least get your name? You look so familiar...”

You debated giving him your middle name or a fake name altogether, but ultimately gave him your real name, conveniently leaving out your surname. He rewarded you with a full-blown smile that you felt all the way down to your toes; a smile that made you think about what it would be like to kiss those lips.

A couple hours later, and you didn’t have to wonder what it felt like to kiss him. His lips were on yours in the back of the Uber as the two of you headed back to his place. Another hour after that, and you were discovering all the other things his mouth and hands could do, loving the way his body felt against yours.

When you left in the morning, you felt like you had a secret that was only yours to keep - and Dom’s, of course - but this was you sticking it to your brother by sleeping with one of his rival club’s players while also getting some much-needed sex.

A week later, you were grinning down at your phone as you read Dom’s latest text.

Dom: So, when can I see you again?

***

Jordan’s House, Present Day

“We’ve got everything we need, right?” Jordan asked, frantically looking around his kitchen. The counter was fully-stocked with all the alcohol he could possibly need, there was enough food to feed an army, and everything was as it should be.

“Yes,” Rebecca confirmed, wrapping her arms around him and giving him a kiss. You shut your eyes and made a face, still not used to seeing your brother be intimate with his wife. “Everything’s going to be great. The team should be arriving in about an hour, so don’t go too crazy waiting for them, okay?”

Jordan nodded and you laughed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to do that. “Well, if neither of you need me, I’m gonna go nap in the guest room,” you announced. “Wake me if I sleep through my alarm?”

“Sure.”

You went up to the guest room, setting your alarm to give yourself half an hour to get ready for the party.

***

The party was on by the time Dom walked through the door. Someone put a beer in his hands and he made the rounds, catching up with players he hadn’t called teammates since the last call-up.

“Hey!” Hendo shouted, waving at Dom from his lounge chair by the pool. “Calvert-Lewin, as I live and breathe. How are you?”

Dom brought it in for a hug, laughing. “I’m good, I’m good.”

“I’d ask how you’re coping with losing to us yet again in the Derby, but I’m sure you had no problem finding some willing girl to console you.”

“Now that you mention it, I’ve been seeing this girl for a few months now. Hooked up with her the night we lost to you and haven’t really looked back.”

“Good for you. She coming to the matches?”

Dom shrugged. “Not sure yet. Haven’t really done much talking, if you know what I mean.”

Hendo smirked. “Nice.”

Just as Dom was about to say more, Rebecca came running over. “Jordan, have you seen your sister? I think we’re running out of drinks and she said she’d run to the store if we needed her to and well, we need her to.”

“Is she not up from her nap?” Hendo asked, his brows furrowing when Rebecca shrugged. “Okay, can you go see if she’s awake? I’ve kind of got my hands full.”

“Yeah, I-”

“Mummy!” One of the kids ran up to Rebecca, drawing her attention away. “Dom! Good to see you! Can you go wake my sister-in-law?”

“Sure. Where is she?”

Hendo gave him directions and Dom was off, searching for the guest bedroom.

“Hello?” He asked, lightly knocking on the closed door. When he got no response, he turned the handle and opened the door. “Hendo’s sister?”

***

Shit. You’d slept through your alarm and now someone was waking you up. And to make matters worse, they were calling you ‘Hendo’s sister’. “What?” You asked groggily, shifting.

“Your brother needs you.”

The voice sounded familiar but you were too tired to figure out why. “Okay. Can you turn on the light?” The sound of the switch being flipped and the light hit you. “Oh, fuck, that’s bright!” You covered your eyes, blinking rapidly to try to get used to the light.

You heard your name being whispered incredulously and you realized it was Dom standing in front of you.

***

Dom couldn’t believe it. Here you were, standing - well, technically sitting in bed - in front of him and you turned out to be Jordan Henderson’s little sister. “You’re…” He trailed off, unable to say the words.

“Yeah.” You looked down at your hands, not wanting to see the look on his face. “Jordan Henderson is my older brother.” You heard the door shut and you looked up, not expecting him to still be standing in front of you.

“Why didn't you tell me?” Dom asked, his expression blank as he crossed his arm and leaned against the door. “You’ve had plenty of chances to tell me and you haven’t. Why?”

“I just… I don’t know.” You sighed, looking up at the ceiling as you struggled to find composure. “Everybody treats me differently when they find out who my brother is, so I don’t exactly go around telling everyone I meet that my brother is… who he is.”

“But we’re sleeping together! Hell, I’ve got you in my bed more than half the nights of the week and you still didn’t think to tell me?!”

“Dom!” You hissed, fear coursing through your veins. You didn’t want anyone to overhear him even though you knew they were probably too busy with the party. “I didn’t think to tell you because I didn’t think we were that serious!”

Dom looked furious. His jaw clenched and he stormed over to you, kneeling on the bed and taking your face in his hands. He kissed you hard, pinning you underneath him and all you could do was loop your arms around his neck and kiss him with everything you had. “How’s that for serious?” He asked, breathing heavily as he pressed his forehead against yours. “I’m here, kissing you in your brother’s house where anyone could discover us, and you don’t think I’m serious.”

“I-I get it now,” you stuttered, smiling at him. “Can we just wait a little while before we tell Jordan about us?”

“Just as long as we tell him before we have to go back to being rivals, okay?”

“Okay.” You gave him one last kiss. “Now you’re really gonna have to leave because I’m pretty sure Jordan didn’t send you here to come into the guest room and kiss me senseless.”

Dom chuckled at that. “He definitely didn’t. Pretty sure Rebecca was saying something about needing you to run and grab more alcohol, too? But the point is that we need to get you out of this bed and to the right people.”

***

You couldn’t stop staring at him. Dom was right across the room, chatting it up with Rice and Mount, laughing with the two footballers. He caught your gaze, giving you a subtle wink before turning back to say something to Rice. You watched him pull his phone out, your own vibrating in your back pocket moments later.

Dom: Meet me in the guest bedroom… Five minutes

You tried to keep the smile off your face, but it was impossible. “Who’s the guy?” Came Rebecca’s voice over your shoulder.

You gasped, hoping she didn’t see Dom’s name at the top of the contacts list before you shut it off. “Uh, nobody? Just a guy I’m sleeping with.”

Rebecca gave you a look. “Just a guy?” She rolled her eyes. “Not with that lovey-dovey look in your eyes, he’s not.”

“Okay, fine,” you sighed. “He’s not just a guy, but I’m not ready to introduce him to you and Jordan, okay? He’s just...not someone I would usually date and I don’t want Jordan to lose his shit, especially with these matches coming up.”

“I see,” Rebecca said wisely, giving you a knowing look. “Just don’t wait too long, because Dominic Calvert-Lewin looks like the kind of man who won’t wait around forever.”

“How did you-?” You asked, incredulous. “Nevermind, I don’t wanna know.”

Rebecca laughed. “Don’t worry - I won’t tell Jordan. That’s something you’ve gotta do.”

***

Two Weeks Later

“We can’t keep doing this,” Dom murmured in-between kisses in one of the empty rooms of Wembley. “Tomorrow’s the last match in this run of friendlies and I wanna catch Hendo on his good side when the two of us aren’t rivals.”

You giggled, the sound morphing into a moan as he kissed your neck. “After the match tomorrow, okay? I promise.”

Dom pulled away, a serious look on his face. “I’m serious. If you don’t tell him after the match tomorrow, I’m not sure I’ll be able to continue this.”

The pit of dread grew in your stomach. You wanted to tell Jordan but you’d never shown an interest in or dated any footballers before, let alone one of his rivals. It was going to be hard to convince him that you were serious about Dom, and for the first time, you realized you were serious about him.

~~~

The day of the match, you were in the stands in your ‘Henderson 8’ kit. The ‘Calvert-Lewin 18’ was underneath, your body tense with the anticipation - fear? - of telling your brother that you and Dom were seeing each other.

All your nerves went out the window the moment Dom came on and scored after less than five minutes of being on the pitch. You were on your feet with the rest of the stadium, cheering on your man as he celebrated with your brother.

The friendly ended England’s way and you were celebrating it like they’d won the World Cup. Without a second thought, you launched yourself into Dom’s arms, both of you giddy as he spun you around before setting you down on the ground and kissing you breathless.

“What the hell?!” Came Jordan’s voice, snapping you and Dom out of your own little world.

“Jordan, it’s-” you started, but your brother was furious.

“No, I don’t wanna hear it. The two of you?!” He glared at Dom. “At my party, were you talking about my sister? To me?! You’ve got some nerve, Dominic.”

Dom held up his hands. “I didn’t know she was your sister at the time, I swear!”

“It’s true: he didn’t,” you backed up your man, threading your fingers through his in a nonverbal show of support. “I knew who he was when I started sleeping with him, but he didn’t know who I was.”

Jordan rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what I hate more: that that’s actually believable or that I’m starting to be okay with this.”

“Really?” You asked, your eyes wide. You and Dom shared a look.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not going to completely love this - at least not for a year or more - but you better not hurt her, Dominic. I’m serious.”

Dom squeezed your hand, nodding with a serious expression. “Yes, sir.”

You held back your giggle at Dom’s response, not wanting to ruin your brother’s good mood. You let go of Dom’s hand to go over and hug Jordan, a bright smile on your face. “Thank you!”

“Don’t thank me; just make sure he doesn’t hurt you so I don’t have to hurt him.”

An hour later when you met Dom, you couldn’t stop smiling, making sure to stop in front of Wembley to kiss him one more time before he took you out on a proper date in public.

#my writing: dominic calvert lewin #dominic calvert lewin imagines #dominic calvert lewin oneshot #dominic calvert lewin one shot #dominic calvert lewin imagine #dominic calvert lewin x reader #dcl imagines #dcl imagine #dcl oneshot #dcl one shot #dcl x reader

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sunseteyes · 3 years

Text

“mahal kita” — i love you

ㅤㅤ ↪︎ STARRING: café bartender!shinsuke kita; student!gn!reader

ㅤㅤ ↪︎ THEMES: fluff, hints of bullying

ㅤㅤ ↪︎ WORD COUNT: 4.2k words

ㅤㅤ ↪︎ SYNOPSIS: shinsuke kita was your first love, and even if it was unusual of you to do so, you were willing to say it to him, despite the circumstances that you two were in.

ㅤㅤ ↪︎ INTERMISSION: finally!!! i’ve been planning this since december and this actually has a second part! the second part will have kita’s pov mostly so do look forward for that~ it will be posted next week !! also, “mahal kita” is a filipino phrase and it translates to “i love you.” the reader is not filipino but if you want to think if it that way, you could, though the reason why i wanted to incorporate my language here is because i just felt like,,, i had to? hahaha anw, enjoy !! i worked hard for this one :D

the bright light blinds you despite having your eyes closed and as you have an arm covering them. indeed, even the sun was beckoning you to listen to the beaming sound of your alarm that plays on the background like a broken cassette tape, urging you to wake up now or else your schedule would get cut off. you wouldn’t want that, especially during a weekday like today.

groaning as you forced yourself to sit up and rub your hand over your eyes to make the world seem a little bit clearer. you then welcomed the sight of the room that had the sunlight illuminate its four corners, a familiar sight that you see everyday.

and you were growing tired of it, to be honest.

your daily routine had never been that much different as it has always been; getting up, getting dressed, going to school. really, there was nothing else that seemed to have been enough to make your eyes brighten up in excitement, since everything just happens on repeat.

every. single. day.

bringing your hand up to cover your eyes from the blazing sun, you wished you hadn’t forgotten to bring your sunglasses from your dorm as you crossed down the road, cautious with the cars that passed by the street. your gaze drops down to your wristwatch, your feet fastening its pace as you catch sight of your university literally only a few blocks away.

there’s nothing really special with your life; just a normal graduating college student hoping to establish a normal working life with a normal family in the future. the latter seemed quite impossible these days, especially with the constant repeat of your relationships throughout the years. still, there’s nothing wrong in expecting you’d have a good future, right?

maybe, maybe not.

“you’re late again.” you panted as you turned to the person sitting beside you, fixing your things and yourself in the process.

“what did i miss?”

“not much, but the professor is strict with attendance.” tobio eyes you before glancing back to the front of the room, feigning his focus upon the topic the professor was talking about.

“yeah, yeah i know.” you whisper back, doing the same thing as you forced yourself to digest the information that was being spoken of, even if you’re not particularly interested in any of it.

“oi,” your senses came about and it was tobio’s face whom you’d seen first, already standing upright in front of your seat, his bag slung to his shoulders-

“huh?” you look around and see everyone doing the same, looking tired just from one discussion. and it seems you have dozed off while awake all throughout the entire time.

“are you just going to sit here all day or not?”

you then gathered your things and followed suit, heading to the cafeteria but not before stopping by the vending machine to get your regular coffee and tobio’s dairy.

“you sure do like milk a lot, tobio.” you’d tease all the time, and he’d respond with,

“for someone who has trouble sleeping, you still haven’t quite enough of coffee, idiot.”

your friendship with tobio started ever since you were kindergarten, and you believe you two were simply drawn to each other because of how silent you two could be, only leaning into a conversation when it is needed. despite having met each other for so long, you two only began to stick to each other when high school came, after being reunited and seeing a familiar face after such a long time. it was that time that you and him realized how far alike to each other you were, deciding to have a bond that neither expected. plus, he likes watching volleyball matches just as you do. simply put, you found someone who was not much different from you, and you realized how comfortable you were with that—the usual things.

the fear of change and difference was what kept you stuck in the same town, at the same school, at the same status, and at the same way of living. people kept on emphasizing how important it is to look outside the box, but no matter how much you wanted to take a peek outside, you couldn’t, didn’t want to. you were fully convinced that if you dream big, there are just bigger consequences to life than how it usually gives.

“who’s that?”

the whispers and murmurs ripped you from your mind, your attention turning to your classmates who were talking about a certain person, making you involuntarily glance at where they were looking. it was a man—an unfamiliar man inside the university premises. who was he, perhaps? it was the same question as what your peers kept on inquiring to each other.

“you must be the new guidance counsellor!” now came a familiar voice, beaming like a sunshine as how he usually is, his hand extending to the said man with the new face, a certain kind of change that you never expected.

“guidance counsellor? where’s takeda-san?” a series of murmurs emerged again until one eventually said that the previous counsellor had taken a break since his wife had finally given birth to their child. you were never close to him but the casual greetings you and tobio received from the man was enough to call him as a kind person. you will surely miss that now that he’s gone temporarily. just from looking over and observing the new counsellor, you were quite sure that this one is far different from takeda.

you sooner found it out when you were called by one of your professors, specifically one that you knew so well that you were close to saying you had been fed-up in seeing his face all over again.

“(y/n), could you pass this to ojiro-san, you know him, right? the new guidance counsellor.” professor koushi sugawara hands you over an unlabeled folder, about two of them, barely glancing your way as he continues to type with his keyboard, eyes trained over the computer screen in such an intense focus. you often see him like this, but you were too irritated to want to even follow his orders as soon as possible, the frown on your face deepening the more you stare at the man’s figure.

“i’m not your maid here, by the way.” you say to him lowly, and it was a good thing that no one else was near him or you two would be embarrassing yourselves for causing such a scene in a school faculty.

this time, you met koushi’s eyes and you felt yourself bite your own tongue when you saw the familiar bags under his eyes, the rim of his glasses barely covering them and the exhausted look on the way he was gazing at you. you knew how tired he often gets because of his work and you do try to help him out, but he just called you out of a class—the only class that you were enjoying and he just wanted you to deliver a couple of papers to the new guy? you’re not someone he can call for errands that easily, not without some words that needed to be discussed.

“yes, you’re right. sorry about that, my pretty younger sibling.” he still teased you, and you only let out a huff before turning away and heading towards the guidance, not without telling your brother to eat his lunch or else you’ll stop making bento for him—it’s not as if you will but the threat always works because he hates waking up earlier than he should to prepare food.

having a professor as your sibling is kind of weird, especially the first few days of when people have found out about it, but the feeling eventually fades away for it’s very much like when you two were still going to the same school during elementary and high school, and like everything else, you’ve gotten used to it.

“oh, this is from sugawara-san?” ojiro, the new guidance counsellor, looked kind and welcoming, very much like the previous one, takeda. you’re not that much fun of change, but if adjustment is needed, then you have no choice but to abide by it. something about this new counsellor makes you somewhat comfortable with him, and it’s in a good way, you hope.

“thank you, uh-” he drops his gaze to your identification card and like any other who suddenly notices your surname, his eyes widen by a little bit, a wave of realization hitting them in his mind.

then he smiles, warm and friendly. “thank you, (y/n)-san. is it alright to call you by your first name?”

“i don’t mind.” you shrug, inwardly smiling, “thank you, ojiro-san.”

“you met the new counsellor already?” tobio questioned by the time you two were walking home, or rather to the cafe you two usually drop by at before really going home. it was one of the things that you and tobio bond on still, apparently. milk and coffee really are the things that tobio and you love—despite its difference, there was a certain middle ground where both the likes meet.

“yeah, he seems nice.” you say, not paying much attention to what tobio was saying for your eyes were set at the counter of the cafe almost immediately as you both entered the transparent doors, the same head of silver hair with darkened tips standing there, beholding an apron that matched any other worker in the room.

you must have forgot to mention earlier; there are times when excitement runs through you like a battery, powering up every vessel and cell inside of you.

there he is. shinsuke, the most beautiful man you’d ever seen your whole life. and yes, you only knew of his name because it’s on his name badge.

you could hear tobio scoff beside you but you merely brushed him off as per usual, heading straight to the lane of the man that still serves a customer by asking their own orders. tobio, on the other hand, walks to the other line where there were basically no other customers.

“good afternoon,” he greeted by the time it was your turn, and in an instant, there came a smile by your lips, one that you rarely ever give to anybody, to any other time, really. this man just gives you a rush of serotonin in your system that it was difficult for you to not react that way.

“chocolate-chip frappe, like usual?” he offered his own kind smile, and your heart combusted again, like it does whenever he looks at you like that, talks to you like that. you knew it was technically his job to build rapport to customers, but it seems as if there’s no escaping for you to escape this kind of fate.

you like him. if you were given a chance to get to know him more, that might even develop into something more.

“yes, please.” you responded, sounding ever so pleased and joyful than how you’ve acted for the rest of the day early on.

“perhaps you would like to purchase our new year’s special drink?” he says as he points at the small poster from beside him, the image of the drink catching your attention, and if you were asked, even if the poster was that colorful, you doubt that it would tear away your focus from the man on the opposite of you.

“uh-”

“it comes with green tea,” he cuts you off, if he knew you were about to respond. “but i admit you don't seem like the type to order a drink like that, do correct me if i’m wrong.”

“how did you know?”

“you only ever ordered the same drink most of the time,” he says with a straight face, as if calculating in the inside of his mind while looking you in the eye “and whenever i offered you our specials, you only like those that taste sweet or those that fit well with coffee.”

it took you a couple of seconds to reply, and it’s with how you were amazed by his observational skills, a soft and short chuckle leaving your system. “you’re really good. yeah, i actually don’t enjoy my tea when it’s cold.”

he types in your order with a small smirk on his face, and you had to control yourself from not getting flustered by how you were getting to have the chance to see this side of him—one that is far from his formalities as a worker to a customer. it gives you the opportunity to witness and to feel how close he was as a person, like you, sort of like a middle ground. like how milk and coffees are to tobio and you.

“you look like you just won a billion yen.”

you giggled as you sat down in front of tobio, not even trying to hide the giddy, fuzzy feeling you were feeling on the inside now that you were quite far away from the subject of affection.

“maybe i just did.” you say, the scenes of earlier playing by your mind.

this change, this sort of change; you didn’t mind it. him talking to you, you convinced yourself it was a good kind of change that you would gladly adjust upon.

once again, the day passes by in a blur, and tomorrow comes again.

“(y/n)-san!”

your name being called early in the morning by a voice is one thing that you did not expect when you went out of your shared apartment with your brother, and are now walking your way to school.

“ojiro-san,” you acknowledged the call, “good morning.”

“ah, yeah good morning as well.” he greets, finally catching up on your form while slightly panting from jogging towards your way.

“uhm,” you interjected, brows furrowed together as you twiddled upon the earbud that you had to unplug from your ear the moment you heard the counsellor’s call. “-is there something you needed to tell me?” it took a whole lot from you not to act irritated than you usually do whenever you are enjoying a peaceful walk to class, but it’s not as if you expected to have an early conversation with someone as well. it’s not like there’s a lot of people who like having your company other than tobio—you’re not even sure if he enjoys being with you. you’re not really the talkative type either so it’s a win-win situation for everyone. the only times you’d actually like having to initiate a conversation is with the barista at your current favorite cafe.

“ah, nothing much, but could you give this to your brother and tell him that i already found someone for him? oh wait, do you know about it?” he says as he hands you over the same folders that you handed to him early on yesterday. at first, it took you awhile to process his vague question until it finally hit you.

oh right, the very big change coming up for your life.

you nod, tucking the folders by your side. and just when you were about to speak, the sound of the bell rang over your heads that you had to exchange a quick goodbye or else you’re going to be late on your first subject again.

“thanks, (y/n).” koushi smiles brightly at you, despite his quite opposite state, as per usual. apparently, your brother thinks he’s such a great pretender, especially towards you. although you understand his intentions as well and that’s to be positive in front of you to not burden you with his own problems. how did you know? well, he is your brother, you not only knew him because you had been together ever since, but you have some of his bad habits as well, including this.

when you handed him the folders, you watched as he opened them, but you already knew what’s its contents, that's why you didn’t bother to look. leaving the faculty room, you never knew there would come a day where you’d miss going there often.

though before you could even go back peacefully to your classroom and grab both your bag and tobio, the moment you turned to a corner and there, you bumped into someone.

“watch where you’re going, fatass.”

“hey, ain’t you the kid from elementary? wow, you never changed, have ya?”

your whole body ran cold that you froze there, in the middle of the now-empty hallway, unable to breathe properly than you should. scenarios of the past then came like a film at the back of your mind, playing ever so carelessly as they indulge such negative emotions that now rushes through your veins.

a touch was all it took to bring you back to reality, and you heard a familiar voice that probably kept calling you all this time.

brown eyes—the person in front of you had such as his voice chants your name like a prayer, a plea to make you stay sane.

“are you alright? (y/n)-san?” wait… you know that voice.

you just know you had to save yourself from drowning—or was he the one who’s pulling you out?

“shinsuke?” you stuttered; hesitant, unsure. after all, how could someone like him come here at your school? is he delivering orders now?

“are you doing okay? you look pale… do you want me to take you to the clinic? just guide me where and i’ll help you, do you want me to carry you? he barged you with so many questions that your still-hazed mind failed to cope up with most of them. the only thing in your mind is him and how he seemed to have come at such a perfect timing.

“uh-no, it’s alright, i’m alright.” you tried to convince him, but it’s not like you were lying anyway. the moment you saw him, everything else have faded away—at least you tried them to be.

“maybe i should take you outside. come on, you look like you’re in need of some fresh air.” he didn’t ask you furthermore and took you gently by the wrist, ushering you to follow his lead, as if he was the one who had been on these school grounds for years and not you. you doubt he even knew his way around and was just trying to calm you down in some way.

you liked it though. you liked how his warm hand touches your skin, how his mere presence drowns away every other negative thought as if they were dust, too miniscule to even worry about. you liked his soft eyes and how they expressed his concern for you in his own way of doing so. and you liked how his comforting voice soothed over your tensed muscles, as if they massaged their way through just to ease up the bundles of tension in them.

perhaps what you feel towards this man, shinsuke, is more than just a simple admiration that lasted for months. you haven’t given much thought over it in fear that you might not be able to move on and get over, but they were growing day by day, little by little, and now you’re beginning to scold yourself for only realizing it now when it’s too late,

“shinsuke-san,”

you urged the both of you to halt, the murmurs and whispers that you passed by dissipated into faded echoes now that he is looking at you by his ever-so-soft stare, gazing at you with one that you could never fathom what he’s thinking about as he does so. he’s just mysterious, but it’s what makes him too exciting and thrilling to unfold; to see the layers that lay underneath that shell of his, like a crab, protecting its delicious contents, or a pearl inside a seashell. you were sure he’s beautiful inside and out.

that’s why you can’t just shut your mouth about it. you just have to get it out, it’s now or never.

because you’ve never felt like this to anyone, and you sure doubt you’d ever again.

“i love you.” you say, the words slipping out smoothly, rolling by your tongue easier than you ever thought it would. and the moment you realized you were able to let them out, a wave of relief washes over you, it was like your own body and mind was telling you to go and say it, beckoning you to open your heart, no matter what change may come your way.

the look he gave you showed a reaction you’ve never seen from him; furrowed brows, halted expression, it was clear that he was baffled with your sudden confession and that in no way would you have a chance of getting a happy ending today--not that it mattered much. your intention was merely to get it out of your chest.

and you’ve got no regret about that.

“what are-you’re supposed to prioritize yourself first. come on, let me take you to the clinic.” he continued to pull you away, as if that was what he intends to do with your feelings and supposedly-hidden desires for him that are now out in the open. it’s not as if that was what he was doing, but for you, it probably was what he’d do if he took your confession seriously.

“have you eaten your lunch yet, sugawara-san? i mean, (y/n), would you prefer to be called that way instead?” the nurse inquires as she tries to see if there was anything wrong with you aside from the claim of shinsuke’s description of you being pale and quite unresponsive since he apparently spent about a minute or two trying to bring you back to reality. you think he’s just over exaggerating, but you wouldn’t be surprised if that was hailed as the truth by the heavens. after all, there is a very good reason for that to happen anyway.

“uhm, i think i ate a piece of brea, or two.” you say, pondering over it for a moment, trying to recall the happenings before you suddenly remembered to deliver to your brother the folders that the counsellor asked you to do so. “and i don’t mind either way, but i do think it would be best to call my by (y/n) instead.”

by the end, the nurse only gave you an advice to eat more and drink water whilst also giving you some vitamin that you forgot what’s it’s called because you were too busy admiring shinsuke who’s from the side, trying to discuss with the nurse with regards to what could have possibly happened to you.

“thank you, by the way.” you say as you and him walk side by side, on the way towards the exit of the premises since you insisted that you take him there in return to accompanying you at the clinic earlier. “you shouldn’t have done it, but you still did. i’m grateful for that.”

shinsuke looks at you in the eye and your heart starts to beat faster again without your permission.

“there’s no need to thank me, but you should take care of yourself. you can never be full with just a loaf of bread.”

you nervously chuckled, your fingers twiddling as you averted your gaze to the ground. “i had to do something so i got up and abandoned my food, sorry about that.”

“don’t say sorry to me, you should apologize to yourself.”

now you didn’t know he was this naggy, but it surprisingly doesn’t irritate you more than how it should be for most people. it might have been because of your own feelings, but it doesn’t matter, it shouldn’t, anyway.

“still, thank you.” you say, a cheeky smile on your face, one you think you’ve never shown to just anyone, a look that even your brother or tobio would be surprised at because you rarely display it for them either. for shinsuke, it seems that all your insecurities are thrown away, as if your breathing is not withheld and you’re not drowning anymore. no matter how you’ve looked at it, the way shinsuke’s presence makes you more comfortable than you would to anyone else is unusual for you, but you’re on the borderline of being comfortable and not in the situation. if you were asked, you’re kind of.. calm.

“are you coming by at the cafe later? i’d treat you to a cinnamon bun if you’d lie. that’s your favorite, right?”

if you looked flustered, you didn’t have much time to hide them for you were already beaming like the sun from his words, the combination of his offer and your feelings mixing well together to form how you’d react to such a question.

“are you asking me for a date?” a sudden burst of confidence, one might say, but you’re having fun with it, in spite of the newness of the situation and circumstance, urging you to come out of your comfort zone, and shinsuke’s indulging you a bit more.

“as long as you eat, then you may call it that way.”

oh how you’d want to repeat that moment over and over, never changing until the end of time, even if it’s obviously not going to happen.

not when your future is about to change.

#kita x reader #haikyuu x reader #shinsuke kita #haikyuu x you #kita x you

83 notes · View notes

andipxndy-writes · 3 years

Text

the coffee shop

fandom: alex rider warnings: none requested by: @zixylixy word count: 9.8k

cross-posted to ao3

summary: You knew you should've stayed in bed the moment your coffee went all over your front. Still... that meant you met someone unique, someone different. Someone who was becoming special to you. And if you were being completely honest, now that you were thinking back on it, you wouldn't have it any other way.

the coffee shop

You knew you should’ve stayed in bed that morning the moment your coffee went all over your front.

To be fair, up until that point your morning hadn’t gone too badly. You’d woken up, been tempted to stay in bed for a few hours longer, and then realised you had emails to answer and paperwork to do for work. Granted, you were working from home, so there was no rush to actually complete the work you’d been assigned until the end of the working day, but it was nice to get it all done in the morning. Then the rest of your day was free.

And that was what ended up happening. As soon as you’d got up and ready for the day, you managed to get your work done pretty quickly. All it took was a handful of hours of properly focusing, and you could get everything you needed to do done quickly enough.

Plenty of time for you to do things for yourself.

Of course, doing things for yourself wasn’t the first thing that came to mind when you finished work for the day. First of all there was the dishes (which took all of five minutes), and then the washing (which took a little longer, but you had that all in in half an hour), and then there was the general cleaning of the house that you hadn’t managed to get to last weekend (which definitely took closer to a couple of hours, maybe more). By the time you were done with all of that, it was the middle of the afternoon.

You thought it was about time to actually treat yourself.

So at about three in the afternoon, you had your little backpack packed with your notebook, laptop and a book, ready to keep yourself entertained with a coffee at your favourite local coffee shop. Just to wind down, maybe get back into that reading and writing groove again.

Except, when you got to your favourite local coffee shop, it was filled. Somehow, and you didn’t know how, the place had become everyone’s favourite place to visit in the late afternoon. Which meant that you couldn’t find anywhere to sit. In fact, the knowledge that someone was sitting in your favourite spot on their own and was casually scrolling through their phone was what irked you the most, and it made you very hesitant to leave the place. A small part of you even wanted to kick them out of the seat. But it was crammed, and you didn’t particularly like being around so many people anyway.

So you left. You knew where the nearest Starbucks was, and you also knew that it wasn’t too far to get to, so it would have to do. For once.

(Last time you’d gone there, with the absolute crowding and mess that went on there, you vowed to never go again. But the nearest Costa was too far to walk and the nearest Cafe Nero was even further. So it would have to do.)

As you got your coffee, you had to mentally remind yourself that just because Starbucks was mainstream didn’t mean that the coffee was any worse than what you usually got at your favourite spot. Perhaps the baristas here were decent, and the coffee had to be drinkable for people to regularly get drinks there.

When you took your coffee and sipped on it, your brain and taste buds helpfully reminded you that the coffee was worse, and tasted pretty cheap and generic, but you were going to have to deal. Because the next best places were further out and you couldn’t be bothered to walk that far.

The only other downside to Starbucks was because it was so popular and so mainstream, it also didn’t have any space for you to sit. Luckily, you were less bothered about this, and had been prepared for such an eventuality, so you were heading out to go to the local park – there were some picnic benches there that you could sit on and use to relax whilst you had your coffee, and the day was nice enough that it made sitting outside with your hot beverage and a good book worth it.

Your plans were ruined the moment you stepped through the open doorway.

“Hey!” you cried as your cup smacked into your front and emptied out over your jumper and jeans. As much as you didn’t care about the coffee, you did care about what you were wearing. You just so happened to be wearing your favourite outfit that day.

You were not impressed.

“Hey, I–oh my god I’m so sorry.”

The person who had crashed into you was tall, with fair hair and plain brown eyes. There was nothing particularly remarkable about him, really. Apart from his sharp jawline. And handsome features.

Nope, nothing remarkable about him at all.

Shaking out your hands to get off the hot coffee before trying to peel your clothing from your skin so that it didn’t keep burning you, you huffed, scowling. One small part of your brain decided to remind you that you were glad to be rid of that horrible coffee, but you hadn’t exactly wanted it on you instead.

“I’m so sorry, let me buy you another coffee.”

You looked up at him and raised an eyebrow at the offer. You were currently covered in coffee, sticky and wet, and standing on the pavement in front of your least-favourite coffee shop.

Another coffee wasn’t going to cut it, and you made sure your face said exactly that.

“I need to change,” you muttered, more to yourself than the man in front of you as you looked back at your clothes. “This was my fave… god, I need to do another wash…”

You spared the man a glance out of the corner of your eye. The guy looked a little awkward now, hearing you ramble to yourself, and a small part of you was satisfied in knowing you’d made a grown man feel awkward about not watching where he was going. You didn’t tend to do that often, but when you did it was incredibly satisfying.

“I’m sorry, truly. I’ll buy you another jumper. And a coffee.”

Another jumper and a coffee? Was this man desperate for your forgiveness or something? You looked up at him properly, narrowing your eyes at him.

He offered a nervous smile in return.

The smile melted your scowl.

“I’ll take the coffee,” you mumbled in response, giving a sigh of resignation. “But after I’ve changed, god. I’m not sitting around in coffee-stained clothes.” Your clothes felt hot now, but they were definitely going to get colder and stickier, and that was going to get very uncomfortable. Before he could speak again, you held up a hand to silence him. “I live a ten minute walk away. You can wait for me right here. Right here. Don’t move.”

You didn’t realise how serious the guy was about getting you coffee (and a new jumper, you supposed) when, after you returned in a fresh change of clothes, he was still standing right there waiting for you.

***

There were a few things you learned from that coffee you had with the guy who’d crashed into you. Firstly, and most importantly, you found out that he wasn’t a fan of Starbucks either, and somehow managed to get you both into your favourite coffee shop when you told him about the spot. With seats in your favourite spot.

He’d laughed when you vowed to love him forever.

The second thing you learned was that his name was Alex. You introduced yourself too, of course, but he seemed more than a little reluctant to tell you his surname. You didn’t mind, of course, but that meant that you insisted on being given the same courtesy – first names only, no surnames allowed. And from the way he nodded, it seemed to be a good enough agreement for him.

The third thing you learnt was that Alex was actually single, and had been on his way to meet someone when he’d crashed into you. He then insisted that your impromptu “date” was a lot better than what he’d originally planned to go to. It made you curious about the person he’d been going to meet, definitely, and why he was so willing to ditch them for someone such as yourself – especially when he’d only just met you.

Well, what you two had done hadn’t been a date, exactly, considering it felt more like two friends catching up. Or two friends meeting for the first time. But you realised you’d enjoyed it like one, and the two of you exchanged social media handles before parting ways: you suggested Twitter, he gave you his Insta, and both of you laughed when you realised you had Tumblr.

Neither of you shared your Tumblr usernames.

And then that was it. You pretty much forgot about the guy – any thoughts of him were lost amidst all of the work you were suddenly bombarded with (which you didn’t appreciate at all, and you were frankly disappointed in your boss for) and you were barely even given the chance to breathe.

It made you miss your writing.

That was why, when you got your next batch of free time (and told your boss that under absolutely no circumstances was he to send you more work to do) you packed up your bag with your usual notebook and stationary set and headed down to the nearest park. Since that last time you’d tried to get coffee, you hadn’t even attempted to get out of the house and do some writing on your own. You figured today would be a good day to go out and get some writing done, as well as get some fresh air.

Taking one look outside, though, you realised it was gradually getting darker, and one look at the clock told you it would probably get dark within the next couple of hours. Knowing your habits, it would be dark long before you finished wanting to write.

Perhaps the nearest university library would be best. You still had a membership card for it, anyway.

It took you about ten minutes to get out of the house with everything you needed, and then you were walking towards the library. Your favourite coffee shop was on the way there, so you decided it would be a good idea to stop by the coffee shop and grab something to drink at the library. You had your travel mug with you anyway, and it wasn’t as if the library refused to let people drink in there all the time.

Students practically lived in there anyway. They had to keep themselves alive somehow.

Just as you were walking into the coffee shop, you realised it was pretty quiet inside… but very noisy outside. Not noisy in the sense that there were lots of people walking about, oh no. It was noisy because there was something more than a little hectic happening on the street that ran by the coffee shop. Cars were speeding past, bikes were speeding past. The only thing that didn’t speed past was an ambulance, which (considering the speed those vehicles were moving about) concerned you greatly.

Still, you managed to tell yourself that this wasn’t your issue and you moved on, not even looking back over your shoulder to see what was going on. The distractions would hold you back, and it was getting later and later. You wanted your coffee and your spot in the library.

It wasn’t until you’d grabbed your coffee and were about to head out that you saw a bike – a battered, wobbly motorbike – pull up outside the cafe. It was a no-parking zone out on that part of the street, and you knew this, but you weren’t going to be the one to warn the person about it when the owner was probably out back watching on a security camera or something. They could suffer from that earful themselves.

The rider got off the bike, stumbling a little bit as they got used to being back on their own two feet, before pulling off their helmet. That was when you realised two things.

One, you’d seen that bike before. It had been brief, yes, but that bike had definitely been part of that whole commotion that had gone on outside whilst you’d been walking. You were absolutely sure of it. In fact, you were pretty sure it had been near the front of whatever had gone on, and had been the main one speeding. Which was more than a little concerning, considering it had now stopped outside of the cafe.

Two, you recognised the person as soon as their helmet came off. You didn’t know exactly why you managed to recognise them so quickly, but you hadn’t managed to see them for a while. Not since you’d first met.

It was Alex.

You stood frozen in place, surprised that after so long you were finally seeing him again. It was… strange, to say the least.

He paused himself, standing sort of lopsided as though he was supporting himself with one leg mostly. He was also seemingly surprised to see you, and then he gave you a half-smile. You got a feeling that he actually did kind of remember you, though you didn’t quite know what would really encourage him to do that.

Then you remembered how you first met, and it all made sense.

“Hello,” he finally greeted once he was close enough to you.

You simply took a sip of your coffee, staring him in the eyes. You didn’t know why exactly you did that – maybe it was a reminder of how he didn’t have to make you spill your coffee all over yourself to get your attention. “Hi.”

You both stood there in silence for a few moments, him watching you drink your hot beverage, and then he finally decided to speak.

“Do you want to sit in here and talk for a bit? We should catch up, right?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. Catch up? That was definitely very… forward of him. “We barely even know each other.”

“Then we can get to know each other more.”

You were so tempted to give in and point out how forward that seemed. After all, this was only the second time you were meeting in person. Granted, you’d seemed to get on pretty well the first time you’d met, but that didn’t mean you’d get along this time… did it? But, of course, you knew you were better than that and that you weren’t the type of person to call someone out when you barely knew them.

“Fine,” you sighed. “But I’m not staying here.”

“Then I’ll grab a drink and join you.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Be quick, then.” It didn’t seem as though you were going to get much writing done today either, and it was this guy’s fault.

Again.

***

After that second meeting, where he managed to successfully crash your library writing time and instead had you both sitting in the nearest park chatting over coffee, you began to spend significantly more time getting to know and hanging out with each other. Less than a week after you’d met, you received a message to your Insta from him, and the two of you ended up striking up a conversation via direct messaging that got incredibly long and in-depth, about anything and everything that came to mind. It got to a point where you looked forward to getting responses from him, whether the topic had switched to politics or reading or hobbies. You hadn’t yet decided to tell him that you enjoyed creative writing – in fact, you weren’t even sure you were ever going to tell him, because that was a very private part of who you were – but you spoke about enough other hobbies that you realised you had a wide range of hobbies and skills between you both. There were even some that you shared, whilst others seemed a lot more… obscure on his end. (You certainly hadn’t been scuba diving before.)

Anyway, with the increased conversation came the increased chance to meet up, but every time you planned to meet up for another coffee at your favourite spot something came up. And you meant every time. Whether it was work pushing you again and forcing you to work beyond business hours, or Alex having to cancel for some reason or other (that he often didn’t tell you), everything you organised didn’t work out. It sucked, really. Especially since you seemed to spend more and more time at the coffee shop as the weather changed, whether it was because you were writing or because you wanted a change of scenery to get your work done as best you could.

Well, it sucked until, finally, someone decided to take it into their own hands.

Hint: it wasn’t you.

At the time, you didn’t know why Alex had asked for your address, and you didn’t know why you’d so willingly given it over either. But it wasn’t as though you were particularly worried about him knowing it. He was a decent enough guy, and if he wanted to get you stuff and have it delivered to your doorstep then you weren’t going to complain about it. If he decided to kidnap you instead, you were pretty sure you wouldn’t have a problem with that either. Considering how boring your life had become, you’d probably thank him for it.

You didn’t, however, expect him to turn up on your doorstep, bags of what definitely smelled like your favourite takeout in his hands. You tried not to let your jaw drop too dramatically.

You’d only ever mentioned your favourite takeout once, in passing conversation. How did he even remember that?

“Hi.” His greeting sounded almost suave, as though him going out and getting your favourite takeout after a good while of not seeing each other in person just to have dinner at your place was perfectly normal.

And not… weirdly kind, or borderline romantic.

“Hi,” you responded in an almost hesitant tone, watching him warily for a few moments.

He stood there with the takeout still in his hands, but he didn’t look awkward at all. Not one bit. If anything, he looked like he’d done this too many times before to be doing it again with you.

It made you curious.

“So… are you going to let me in?” The question was asked in a sarcastic drawl, not unlike the one you heard in your head whenever you read messages from him that came as a response to something funny you said, and it made you smile. The wariness and hesitation about him being there melted away immediately.

“I guess I am,” you chirped back, before standing aside and letting him walk past. As he passed you, you couldn’t help but notice he was wearing cologne – maybe he was walking closer to you this time than he usually did, but you could smell it.

And it smelled pretty nice.

You held yourself back from mentioning anything, though.

Soon enough, the two of you were sitting at your small dining table, usually intended for one but actually catering to two tonight, with the takeaway on the table between you both. You couldn’t remember being particularly hungry when Alex arrived, but as soon as you both sat down at the table and Alex began to unload everything ready for you to eat, your stomach decided to announce that it was empty and you were famished. Alex only cracked a grin at the sound your stomach made, and you had to try hard not to let your cheeks heat up in response.

“It’s not funny.”

“Of course it isn’t.” He opened up the food, and the smell was absolutely heavenly. “It’s an indication of how hungry you are. That’s all.”

“Exactly.” And then your eyes narrowed at him. “Are you mocking me?”

He simply replied with a grin as he finished dishing out plates for you both. His lack of an answer was just as good as a confirmation, in your opinion, and you scowled at him playfully as you picked up your cutlery.

You would have to forgive him begrudgingly, if only because he brought you food. And good food at that.

Your meal was pretty nice, you had to admit. The conversations you had were varied, as they usually were, and somehow Alex managed to bring up almost everything that you could have talked about – from politics to art, and science to TV. Even you had to admit that the conversation was a lot more interesting than it usually was, and even if you didn’t share the same opinion on some things, it wasn’t so different that you immediately hated each other and broke off your friendship.

Yes, because that was what it was. Friendship.

You were just friends with this hot guy.

…Your mother was going to have words with you when she found out about this.

By the time you finally looked at the clock, you had both finished dinner a while back and were just sitting at the table, chatting. At some point, you’d popped into the kitchen and made hot beverages for both of you – a tea for him, and a hot chocolate for yourself.

The clock, of course, was almost at midnight. Your eye twitched.

You had work tomorrow.

Alex followed your gaze to the clock, his own eyebrows rising. “Oh, shit.”

“Oh shit indeed.” You looked down into your mug and, finding it was empty, pouted a little. There was nothing there to keep you two talking other than a desire to continue the conversation, and it wasn’t as if you could tell your boss that you were tired because you just wanted to chat with a friend. “I guess we’ve got to finish off, huh?”

That was all it took for both of you to start clearing up, and by the time all of the dishes were washed and everything was put away it was well past midnight. It wasn’t as if washing up was going to go smoothly when the two of you could easily have chatted the night away. In fact, it was almost one in the morning when you and Alex finally made it to your front door, you leaning on the door frame as he stood just beyond your doorway.

It took you almost ten minutes to actually say goodbye.

“Message when you get home,” you called out as he turned to head down the corridor. He gave half a wave over his shoulder, smiling back at you, and you waited until he’d completely disappeared from sight before closing the door, leaning against it with a frown.

Why were you so determined to make sure Alex was safe?

And why, why, did you all of a sudden latch onto just how attractive Alex was?

***

From then on, dinner seemed to happen on a pretty regular basis. Somehow you managed to pry Alex’s home address from his lips, and sometimes you got what you worked out was his favourite takeaway and headed over to his place, surprising him with dinner and a chat. One time, you were pretty sure you walked in whilst he had someone else over – a dark-haired woman, pretty with freckles and blue eyes. She only looked between the two of you before leaving, a smirk on her face, and you narrowed your eyes at Alex until he admitted that she was a childhood friend that he was (somehow) still close to.

You met her a couple more times. She was nice.

But not as nice as Alex’s oldest and longest best friend. He was a riot.

The first time you met him, Alex came over bringing dinner with a scowl on his face. Before you could even ask what was wrong, a smaller, wiry guy burst in with a huge grin on his face. He, of course, immediately struck you as a troublemaker.

You just didn’t know how much of a troublemaker he was.

He spent most of your dinner recounting stories from when Alex was a teen, all the stupid and reckless things that Alex had done that you were pretty sure would have got him into very big trouble if any sort of adult had found out, and you ended up spending most of the dinner laughing as Alex rolled his eyes and tried to correct him or defend his actions. You didn’t really have an opinion on much of what Alex did (that was a lie, you thought he was totally reckless and stupid), but you found it funny watching him squirm and get defensive, and he was fun to poke. This was a side of Alex you hadn’t really seen before.

You liked it.

It wasn’t until the end of the evening that you found out that Alex’s friend’s name was actually Tom Harris. You didn’t know how you’d managed to go that whole evening without finding out his name, but you had.

The next morning, the first thing you did was send him a friend request on Facebook. By the end of the day, you had him on all possible social media platforms and were sending each other all of your favourite memes.

Your favourite meal by far, though, was the one that stuck most in your memory. It would always stick the most in your memory.

Alex, in an apparent twist in tradition, had decided to bring his favourite takeaway over to yours for the evening. You didn’t mind the switch – you actually kind of liked it – but you didn’t hesitate to rib him for it. After all, what kind of gentleman was he if he brought over what he wanted, instead of what you would want?

His response of, “You’ll eat anything anyway,” hit deep, but it wasn’t wrong. You swatted at him with a tea towel for it, and he simply laughed as he moved to unload everything on your tiny dining table.

“I can’t believe you ditched my favourite for yours today,” you whined as you sat down, waiting for him to dish out the food onto your plates. The agreement was that whoever brought over food would be the one serving, but it was weird being served food that wasn’t your favourite. “This feels like a betrayal.”

He just scoffed at you and rolled his eyes. “My place was on the way.”

You raised an eyebrow at that. You knew that your place was on the way from his to yours, you saw it every time and silently longed over it whenever you brought over Alex’s favourite to his place. So the only way for his chosen place to be on the way was for him to be coming from that direction, which was in the opposite direction. Like, if he was coming from somewhere else.

Like work.

“A busy day at work, then?” you asked casually. Alex didn’t usually come from work straight to yours, he usually came from home. At least, that was what you assumed. After all, he was dressed a lot less casually than he usually was. (In fact, you wanted to say that he looked pretty dashing in what definitely looked like a business suit.)

A small frown grew on his face in response to your question, stayed there for a moment, and then he seemed to brush off whatever was on his mind and give you a small smile. “Yeah, pretty busy.” He paused for a moment, finishing off dishing out his food and setting the takeout bowls aside, and then, “I’ve been asked to go on a business trip.”

Your eyes shot up at this, widening as you stared at him. Alex had never really gone into detail about his job before, but… a business trip? You didn’t think he went on business trips. At least, he hadn’t been on one since you’d known him. Not that you’d known of anyway.

“…How long?” you asked eventually, once he’d taken his blazer off and settled in his seat, both of you about to start eating. Your voice was quieter than you expected it to be. You didn’t quite get why you were so quiet all of a sudden – it was just Alex, and you’d had friends disappear for long periods of time before. You were pretty sure you had some friends who went on regular business trips. But you’d gone quiet anyway, and it didn’t seem as though you were going to make yourself any louder.

Alex watched you for a few moments, his fork in his hand and hovering over his plate, and then he put his cutlery down. You got the feeling that this was about to be a pretty in-depth conversation, and mentally prepared yourself.

“Unconfirmed,” he answered, his voice taking on a harder tone, “but maybe a couple of weeks.”

“Where are you going?”

His lips pursed at that, and that confused you. Why was he so reluctant to tell you? “Somewhere in Europe. I’m not sure where yet.”

You just stared at him. Why was he keeping it such a secret? You got the feeling that he knew… but weren’t you close enough friends for him to tell you something like that?

Alex gave a sigh, picking up his fork again. “Let’s… let’s talk about something else, alright?” He offered you an awkward half-smile. “I didn’t come here to talk about me. I came here to have dinner and talk about anything and everything, like we usually do. You know?”

You did know. It was nice to talk to someone who wasn’t a coworker at the end of the day about anything that came to mind, especially over dinner. It meant that you could have varied conversations that didn’t involve getting work done.

But now you felt as though you really should know more about him. What was his job? Where did he even work? He’d never told you that before. And you didn’t think he was ever going to tell you that now.

So you picked up your own fork, looking down at your plate, and decided to focus on your food for a little while. Until you got all of your thoughts together, at least. You didn’t think you would be able to talk until that happened, and there was no way for it to not be awkward if you decided to go and collect yourself in the bathroom or anything like that.

The rest of your dinner was pretty quiet. You did, eventually, manage to collect all of your thoughts and get back into conversation with him, but you couldn’t help but feel that at least some of it was forced, on both sides. You didn’t want it to be – you missed the easy conversation you and Alex tended to have at the table when you were sharing dinner – but it ended up being so. Even as he helped you to wash the dishes and put everything away, you realised the atmosphere just wasn’t as relaxed and easy as you were used to it being.

And it continued that way all the way up to the front door, where you ended up in your usual position of leaning on the doorframe as Alex stood outside of the door. You both stood there in silence for a few moments, taking in the fact that this would be your last dinner together for a while.

“Well,” you started, pushing yourself off the doorframe, “I have work tomorrow, so…”

“Right,” Alex agreed, his hands in his pockets as he nodded. Usually he would at least take some of the food back to his place if he bought it. Today he wasn’t taking anything. “You shouldn’t stay up too late. Or you get–”

“Cranky,” you cut in, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, I know.”

That made Alex crack a grin, and somehow that eased the tension between you both the slightest bit. There were at least some parts of your friendship that wouldn’t change with Alex being away for so long. You’d miss the dinners, definitely, but you had Tom’s number. You could invite him over regularly, and show up at his as well. Sure, he had a girlfriend, but she was lovely and probably needed someone a little more sane around for at least a little bit of time a week.

“I guess I’ll see you when I see you,” you said, trying to sound hopeful, and Alex gave a nod. The situation, the whole him leaving thing, didn’t feel as depressing as it could have been. It was temporary. Alex would be back, right?

“I guess so.” He pulled out hand from his pocket and half-waved in his usual way, before turning to head down the corridor. “See you around!”

You simply smiled, and as soon as he disappeared from sight you moved to shut the door, sighing. Perhaps… perhaps Alex would change his mind and actually tell you where he was going. Perhaps Alex would even message you whilst he was out on his business trip, just to see how you were doing without him around. Those late night chat conversations were always nice, and if those stopped for two weeks you would be sorely disappointed.

You were just headed to the kitchen to make sure everything was tidied away and switched off when there was a knock on the door, and you frowned. Who could be knocking at the door at this hour? You turned and headed back towards the door to see who it was.

As soon as you opened the door, you felt a pair of lips against yours.

You were surprised at first, not sure who it was that was actually kissing you, but then that familiar smell of cologne hit you and you knew.

It was Alex.

His lips were dry, a bit chapped despite recently having dinner, and still managed to feel soft against your own. He seemed a bit hesitant at the start of the kiss, but when you didn’t fight back… when you didn’t fight back, his arms circled your waist, pulling you closer. You simply sunk into the kiss, letting him move his lips against your own, with your arms moving to rest on his shoulders and your hands interlocking behind his neck. You didn’t know how long you even kissed for, but by the time you were pulling away you were starting to feel lightheaded. You blinked owlishly at him, genuinely surprised at what had happened.

Had he just… had he just kissed you?

He stared back at you for a few moments, before clearing his throat. Pulling away from you, he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Then he opened and closed his mouth a few times, clearly trying to decide on the words to say. And then,

“I’ll… see you in a couple of weeks, then.”

You stared after him in something akin to shock as he disappeared down the corridor.

***

The following two weeks were nothing short of torture for you, both physically and emotionally. Work, somehow, got significantly more busy for you, and it meant that you actually had to go back into the office some days to get some work done. You didn’t particularly like the idea of going back and being around so many of your coworkers for long periods of time, not when you were so comfortable in your own space at home and were pretty productive on your own as it was. But it meant that if you had to stay on and do work, you weren’t distracted by the idea of ordering dinner only to realise that there was no one around to have dinner with. Sure, Tom was about, and so was his girlfriend. But Alex was out of town.

It also meant that you didn’t have to spend any time thinking about that last dinner you had together. About how you’d felt when you found out that Alex was disappearing on you for two weeks all of a sudden, or that he actually went on business trips and disappeared for periods of time.

Or how you felt when he’d kissed you for the first time.

You sometimes got butterflies just thinking about it, him placing his lips on yours and holding you close. The way his slightly dry lips felt against your softer ones, how he smelled up close, how warm his embrace felt as he pulled you in close–

You had to pinch yourself to stop yourself from thinking about it, otherwise you’d spend all day pining or crying over it.

Sometimes you even visited the cafe where you first sat down together to chat, where he’d bought you your first coffee and you’d had your first… well, your first technical date. All you wanted was a coffee, and you ended up being assaulted by thoughts of him and the time you’d spent together.

You didn’t want to think about it that way – you’d never wanted to think about it that way, that it was your first date. But that was how you ended up thinking about it. It had been a date, technically. And all the times where you’d gone to each other’s for dinner had also been dates. You just didn’t want to think of it in that way because you’d only ever thought of him as a friend, and you hadn’t discussed anything to imply that you were anything more.

That kiss more often than not made you think of him as something more.

It reached its worse when one evening, you got off work early. You thought you’d be fine, you told all of your coworkers that you’d be fine at home on your own (it wasn’t as if they knew about Alex anyway) and headed off. It was the middle of the week, so it wasn’t like you could join in on anyone’s night out or anything. Because, you know, no one went on a night out right in the middle of the week.

That evening you found yourself craving company, just wishing there was someone there to have dinner with you. That evening, you craved him.

That evening someone knocked on your door, and you opened it to find it was Tom, Alex’s best friend. He had a frown on his face, a genuine look of concern, which quickly wiped away when he realised you were standing there. The look turned into a grin as he held out what was obviously your favourite takeaway, perfectly bagged and ready to eat.

Just as Alex would.

“I hear someone usually gets takeout with Mr. Businessman,” he teased, before heading into your place without even an invitation. You wanted to be mad at him as he started rambling on about how Alex had thought it was best to get a replacement for dinner and how every time Tom had knocked you hadn’t been there, but really you were glad. You hadn’t wanted to spend the night alone.

Well, you wouldn’t.

And really the night turned out to be more fun than even you had expected. Tom was a non-stop chatter, commenting on anything and everything, and he even went as far as telling you stories about Alex that you were very sure he wouldn’t tell you himself. It meant that you spent pretty much the whole night in stitches as Tom recalled his and Alex’s childhood. You knew he and Alex had been friends for a long while, but just knowing some of their history… it made you realise how they had managed to stay so close for so long.

If you had been through even a smidge of what those two had been through together with a friend, you doubted you would have left them behind ever. You were pretty sure you would have been best friends for life.

When it came time for Tom to finally leave, you couldn’t help but feel like you were going to miss him. Sure, having dinner with him didn’t match up to having dinner with Alex, and you were definitely sure there was someone else Tom could have been with that evening, but it was the nicest night you’d had since Alex had left. You appreciated Tom, you really did.

And you made sure to tell him that as you both headed to your front door (you didn’t have the heart to make him do the dishes with you, like Alex did, so he was leaving considerably earlier than Alex usually would).

Tom only gave you a grin as you thanked him. “It’s alright. You’ve done a lot for him. It’s the least I could do for you.”

You frowned a little. What exactly had you done for Alex? As far as you knew, he had done so much for you. He bought you food, kept you company, and had genuinely been a good friend to you from the moment he’d bought you a coffee to make up for the spilled one. You couldn’t really think of anything you had done for him. Instead of dwelling on that, though, Tom was quick to switch the subject to when you’d next have dinner together (and he pointed out that you’d need to bring over extra as well) and informing you of his favourite takeaway.

Part of you didn’t want to feel like he was talking as though Alex would be away for longer… but he was definitely talking like Alex would be away for longer

“Are you going to be alright?”

Tom’s question snapped you out of your thoughts, and you stared at him. Were you going to be alright? You’d spiralled already because one person was missing – it wasn’t as though the world was ending or anything. So you gave him a smile.

“I’ll be alright.”

A small part of you wondered whether that was really true.

***

It was more than a couple of weeks. You’d been busy, and had probably lost track of the time, but it felt like it had been more than a couple of weeks. It had been too long since you’d shared a dinner with that rather attractive fair-haired man, whose first time meeting you involved making you spill your coffee all over your front. You were still really missing him, like you were having withdrawal symptoms, and it felt weird.

You hadn’t ever missed someone like this for so long before – not even your own parents. It felt… weird. Part of you didn’t like it. You didn’t want to feel this way when it took over most of your waking thoughts if you weren’t sufficiently distracted. You wanted to be able to think of and do other things without having to try so hard. And more often than not, you couldn’t do other things unless you were working, because nothing else distracted you enough.

Other than, well, writing.

But you hadn’t had your writing mojo in a while. Mostly because you spent most of your time at work, but also because you didn’t actually have the energy or the time to get out your notebook (or even open up your documents) on most days to actually get some writing done. Perhaps it was about time to kick that back into gear. You had a feeling that hobby would kick your loneliness.

And that was how you ended up packing up your backpack, your notebooks and stationary in there along with your empty travel mug, as you headed down to your favourite coffee shop. You hadn’t been there in ages – not since before Alex had left – and you missed their coffee. You thought you could do with something hot and caffeinated, just to kick you into gear and wake your brain up. After all, you wouldn’t have the usual adrenaline from work waking you up and pushing you through.

The walk down to the coffee shop was rather nice, admittedly. It was a decently nice day, and it was peaceful outside – most people were either at work or relaxing at home for the day, so it wasn’t as though there was anyone outside to bother you or get in your way. Soon enough you managed to make it to the actual coffee shop, and you were more than glad that you hadn’t really bumped into anyone on your way down. It meant that you didn’t really have to talk to anyone at all, not even your neighbours, so you could get into the headspace that you wanted without too much issue.

The only thing was, the coffee shop was decently busy at the time. There was a steady hum of conversation as you walked into the shop, various people sitting on the different tables available. You worried that it would mean there wouldn’t be any space to sit, or that someone would try to strike up a random conversation with you, until you realised that your favourite table was actually free, and you smiled.

This was definitely a sign.

You headed straight to the counter to order your classic usual – an iced caramel latte, even though it wasn’t particularly hot outside – along with a blueberry muffin. Just to treat yourself and get you into the vibes of the cafe. It didn’t feel like it took long at all for your order to come, which was probably helped along by the fact that the barista hadn’t seen you in a while and struck up a conversation with you. You felt a little bad for not visiting as often – you used to chat near-regularly with this guy when you came there on an almost thrice-weekly basis – but you never had the time recently, and you admitted that.

When he asked you how your writing was going, you just felt guiltier.

Either way, you exchanged social media handles before he gave you your order, and you promised to message each other more when you weren’t around. After all, you liked chatting with the guy. You may as well strike up whatever friendship you had going with him. (And if it turned into something more… then what did you have to lose?

It was about half an hour after you sat down, when you’d finally got into your writing flow, when you felt the whole atmosphere of the cafe change very suddenly. What had once been warm and welcoming suddenly changed to curiosity and wariness, and as much as you wanted to ignore it and keep writing, the change was too dramatic for you to ignore. You had to see what was going on. That was why you put down your pen and looked up, curious about what was going on.

And it felt like, in that moment, your breath was stolen from you.

You recognised that familiar mop of fair hair the moment you saw it. You’d had dreams, weird dreams, of running your fingers through that hair, just to see how soft it was. You’d always imagined that it looked thinner and more wiry than it actually was, that you would run your fingers through it as he lay his head in your lap, the two of you relaxing at either of your places or even out on the local park, simply enjoying nature.

You were drawn out of your daydreams about his hair when his eyes suddenly focused on you. You’d always known his eyes were dark, but something was… something was different about them now. You couldn’t quite pinpoint what, but it was something. Something that you had a feeling should concern you.

Still, the moment his eyes landed on you, they somehow lit up, and that was enough to get you to stand to greet him instead of sitting until he came over. You watched him as he slowly approached you, not intending to get any closer to him.

Your feet carried you forward anyway, and soon enough you were embracing him, your arms wrapped tightly around him, and his around you. He felt almost like a lifeline, like someone you needed to survive. You didn’t know when he’d become that for you, how or when you’d come to depend on him so much, but as you clutched him you realised that you weren’t sure how much longer you could have survived without him around.

“I’ve missed you,” you murmured, your lips right next to his ear.

He let out the breathiest of laughs, tickling your ear. “I’ve missed you too,” he murmured lowly. And then he pulled away just enough to look you in the eyes. “We need to t–”

You didn’t know what had come over you, but the next thing you knew, your lips were pressing against his in a soft kiss that you hoped, you dearly hoped, conveyed everything you were feeling right then. Everything you felt about him in that moment. The way he froze up reminded you of how you’d hesitated when he’d first kissed you, but then he was kissing you back, his familiar chapped lips moving against your own. A few moments later you slowly pulled away – not breathless, but satisfied. And he rested his forehead against yours, a small smile on his lips.

“…Okay then.”

You laughed at his words, suddenly very aware that people in the cafe were probably staring at you both. Regardless, you took the opportunity to reach up and run a hand through his hair. You realised that your thoughts had been right – it was softer than it looked, and felt running through your fingers. Idly, you watched as his eyes closed in response to the movement.

So he liked his hair being played with? That was good to know.

“You’re right,” you spoke up, making him open his eyes so that he could concentrate on what you were saying. “We need to talk.”

Alex nodded as your hand slid out of his hair to rest on his shoulder. His hands rested on your hips, holding you close. “Right. Talk.” He paused for a moment, as though he was collecting his thoughts, and then, “Coffee?”

Your smile widened impossibly as you thought back to the first time you’d met. Of how he’d bought you a coffee in this very shop, and had your drinks at the very table you’d been sitting at when he’d walked in. And you were about to do it again.

“Coffee sounds like a good idea. You’re buying?”

He scoffed as he pulled away fully, making you laugh. “Are you expecting me to buy, or asking me to?”

You simply grinned at him as you headed back to your table. As soon as you sat down, you rested your elbow on the table and your chin in your palm, a smirk on your face. “You figure it out.”

He stared at you for a few moments, noticing your half-finished iced latte still sitting on the table, and rolled his eyes at you. “You’ve been spending too much time around Tom.”

“I’ve been spending just enough time around Tom, thank you very much.”

You just about managed to stop yourself from saying how you wanted to spend more time with just him, though. Just about. But that was all that went through your mind as you watched him go off to get his coffee from the barista you’d been chatting with earlier.

Soon enough he was back with his coffee. You swore you could see the barista watching after him with a weird expression on his face, but as soon as Alex was sitting in front of you your focus was on him, and not on the guy you chatted with whenever you came there to get your coffee. Your eyes were glued to him and only him as he took a sip from his coffee, and you couldn't help but realise that there were… purple-ish marks on his neck. At least, they looked that way to you. You didn't get much time to look at them, though, because soon enough he was looking at you again and had put his mug down, his shirt covering up whatever you’d seen.

“So, talking,” he started, and you couldn’t help but glance down at your iced latte, very tempted to take a sip from your drink so that you didn’t have to say anything. But you got the feeling that he would catch that – Alex was very observant – so you decided against it.

“Talking,” you repeated, before taking a deep breath. How did you even talk about it? It was… a lot, but at the same time, so little. Where did you even start? “…Do you want to talk about the first, or the second?”

You could tell Alex was trying to hold back a smirk as he looked at you. “Well, ideally we should start with the first, don’t you think?”

Well, when he put it that way, he made it seem so obvious.

“Okay, then you start,” you pointed out, deciding now was a good time to take a sip from your latte. “After all, you initiated.”

His cheeks flushed pink at that point. “I did.”

You realised that you found the pink flush very cute.

It took him a few moments to seemingly compose himself, and that was the moment you realised that Alex wasn’t as confident or as outgoing as he usually let on. There, right then, you were seeing him as a shy, awkward man – probably the kind of person he’d once been before he’d grown up and started putting on the more confident front.

You liked this shyer version of him.

“I… have liked you for a while,” he admitted, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear him. “I say a while, I mean… I mean a month, or so?" He gave an awkward half-shrug. "I just… acted."

You stared at him, blinking a few times. "You just… acted?"

"Yes."

"On impulse."

"Yes."

"Giving into an animalistic desire–"

"I wouldn't go quite that far."

You didn't know why, but suddenly you felt emboldened. The feelings you thought were a one-way crush turned out to be reciprocated, and your heart was bubbling with so much joy. But for some reason… for some reason you didn’t see the same level of excitement in his eyes.

Instead, you saw… was that hesitation?

He looked down at his mug, and then back up at you. And that was when you realised he wasn’t sure whether you felt the same way. Or, at least, that was what you were thinking, anyway. So you rolled your eyes at him.

“Aren’t you going to ask me on a proper date, or something?” you teased. You quickly realised that maybe saying that was a little too bold, but the way his cheeks flushed and he awkwardly laughed made you think that maybe he didn’t think of it as really offensive. Though the longer it took for him to answer made you wonder whether he was actually considering asking you on a date, or was trying to find a way to let you down gently.

“Dating me isn’t easy,” he finally said, his voice quiet. He looked… nervous now. “I’m a demanding person.”

“I know, I’ve fed you,” you responded casually. When he didn’t laugh, you realised he was probably talking about more than just food.

“I can also be absent for weeks at a time,” he pointed out.

“I can work with that, I’ve had a taster.”

“My job is really demanding, and I can’t tell you anything about it.”

That one confused you. Alex hadn’t ever told you anything about his job before anyway, but you knew that if you were getting closer to him that you’d want to know what he did from day to day. Or at least have an idea of what he did every day. But hearing that he couldn’t tell you anything… that sounded like it would be tough to deal with. And it also sounded like it was something that Alex anticipated.

So you reached over and placed your hands on his, watching as his eyes widened and he tensed a little. You gave him a small smile.

“I wouldn’t be dating you for your job. I’d be dating you for you. The job thing is secondary and not as important.”

He stared at you, as though he was actually processing what you were saying and whether you meant it. You hoped that he knew that you did mean it, and that you really did want to date him regardless. Relationships came from working hard at them – the two of you could work past anything you were unsure about now over time.

“Are you sure?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Do you think I’d still be sitting here with you if I wasn’t?”

He stared at you, seemingly trying to decide whether you were telling the truth or not. So you decided to offer him a soft smile to try and encourage him.

“Do you really want to do this?” Alex asked, and you gave him a definitive nod.

“Yes.”

The smile that appeared on his face… it wasn’t quite blinding, but it was certainly very beautiful and very happy. And it made you smile even wider in return.

“Alright then.” He took a deep breath, still smiling. “Alright.”

“So pick me up tomorrow at seven?” you went on, and he laughed a little.

“Tomorrow at seven it is.” He shifted your hands so that he was actually holding them, and he squeezed a little. A squeeze that marked the beginning of a rather companionable silence as you both stared down at your hands, how they looked as you held onto each other.

Until you broke it.

“Is this the end of our talk?” you asked, looking up and raising an eyebrow at him. “Because if it isn’t, I think we need to discuss the way you alert me before you disappear for weeks at a time. The night before you go is not acceptable and I would like to have words with you about that.”

He grimaced. “Yeah, about that–”

“The next time you do that, I’m punching you and breaking your nose.”

He blinked, and then smirked. “Are you, now?”

“You bet I am.”

You knew you should be offended by the way he laughed at you, but you couldn’t help but smile at his reaction. It had been a while since you’d heard that laughter coming straight from him.

It was nice.

And you were glad that you were getting the opportunity to hear it more. At least, you hoped you were. You just had to wait and see.

#writing: mine #writing: fanfic writings #written for: zixylixy #fandom: alex rider #alex rider fanfiction #oneshot #alex rider

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haliyam · 3 years

Text

interim (iii)

zeke x reader/oc

summary: You return to Liberio not long after the Warriors arrive home from their failed mission in Paradis and discover that things have changed. (Or they will, and maybe a little more with Zeke than you expect.) [Season 4 and manga spoilers ahead]

AO3 link | Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4

Hello! This came out longer than I meant it to be, but I enjoyed writing it. I admit that the chapter couuuld have gone without the middle bits, and I trimmed out a lot already, but this is purely self-indulgent fanfic and I love writing about the Warriors/the candidates, so I hope you enjoy it too.

Reminder that the Reader/OC is a cis-female Eldian character with a set background/surname, but please feel free to set the substitution for the Reader to your chosen First Name using the InteractiveFics browser extension if you’re reading through the browser! So on the browser extension that would be: Lucy = Your chosen First Name.

Chapter 3

If Zeke is going to shut his door in your face as soon as you try to enter, he gives no indication of it. Eyes to the ceiling, fingers barely grasping his doorknob, he doesn’t even look at you as you take one step closer, then two, only urging you to hurry up with a flick of his fingers. As if anyone else is still awake. With nothing for it, you step inside.

Zeke’s room is lit a warm yellow from the lamps standing next to his desk and sitting at his bedside table. It hasn’t changed much, save that he’s replaced his old bed with a much larger one. That makes sense, even though you hadn’t imagined he could get any taller as a child. The only other addition apart from his much fuller bookshelf is a pack of cigarettes on his desk.

You can’t help but pick it up. “You smoke now?”

Closing his door behind him, he snatches the pack from your hands and walks past you, tossing it back by his desk lamp on the way. “Problem?”

You shrug. You’re surprised, but you suppose that sort of thing doesn’t really matter when you’re a Titan shifter.

He pulls out the chair by his desk and takes a seat, crossing his arms at you with a brow quirked. Somehow, he manages to be intimidating in his pajamas—though that could very well be your guilt. “You wanted to talk,” he says. “So talk.”

The indifference in his voice makes your throat catch, but you steel yourself. “I’m sorry,” you say, one hand scratching at the other’s wrist. It seems your courage fell apart at his door. “I’m sorry I didn’t write for the last five years.”

“Why?”

“Because—because I should have.” You wrap your arms around yourself, tucking your hands under your elbows. “We were friends. You and Pieck were—are,” you hope, “my closest friends, and… and I left you hanging like that. Even knowing every year that the others hadn’t returned, how worried you must have all been… I didn’t write. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Zeke says slowly, irritated. His lip curls, and you feel nauseous. “Why did you stop writing back?”

Your nails dig involuntarily into your arms. “I was a stupid little teenager. I was upset.”

He scoffs, like he can’t bear the sight of you. “What did that have to do with me? ...With us?”

You swallow, eyes downcast, though they briefly flicker to his. “Am I secure here?”

Zeke glares at you. “Of course you are.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

His gaze softens just a little before the walls shoot back up. “Yeah.”

You nod. And then, after a long moment, you reluctantly begin. “Willy sent me to boarding school once I caught up with the necessary schoolwork. It was… well, you know. Boarding school was an entirely different world.” He does know - you had written them until the end of your first year. “And then summer came. Willy wanted me to spend it with them at home, and I did. The first week or so. But he had business to attend to, as always, and Mila invited me to her tour for the Foundation instead. Willy thought it would be nice for us to bond, and I thought…” You gnaw on the inside of your lower lip in embarrassment. “I thought she was finally giving me a chance.”

“Lucy,” Zeke murmurs. You can’t tell if it’s pity or disappointment, and you don’t want to know. You’re staring at his lamp, as if doing so long enough will burn out the memory from your mind.

“We visited Marley’s new southern nations at first. It was strange to be treated so well again.”

Zeke shifts in his chair. He has his cigarette pack in his hands now, fingers idly folding and unfolding the lid. “What did you expect? You’re Lucy Tybur.”

“I meant by Mila.” When he falls silent, you continue. “And then we visited Ulodana.”

Your eyes meet at that name. No reminder needed for that—Ulodana was the first country to which the regime deployed its new Warriors only months after they inherited their Titans. By then the rest of the unit had been informed of your true identity, and it was the brass’s idea to bring you along as a spectator. Imagine what more the motherland might achieve if the War Hammer were to join the fight, then-Commander Bruning had whispered to you, the mushroom cloud of Bertholdt’s transformation setting your eyes alight.

“The nations in the south had had time to recover. Grow accustomed to Marleyan rule. But Ulodana was still... bleeding. For the most part, we stayed in the cities which had already begun to rebuild; ones with budding military bases and an increasing Marleyan population. But Mila insisted on bringing us further from the coast—places you and I had last seen as smoking rubble. The people there were… They were still so afraid. Many of them…”

You gulp, pressing your lips between your teeth to regain your composure as you remember the survivors. You can still see them, hear them, smell them. Feel their hands in yours. Mila had pulled you aside and scolded you when you first shed tears before them, saying it was not you who had a reason to cry. And she had been right.

“So many of them were Eldians; others non-Eldians too poor to join the earlier evacuations. They still saw us coming that day, and with no aid forthcoming, they thought the Foundation had returned to deliver the finishing blow. They were terrified, Zeke.” His fingers fall still around the pack as you say his name, but he wears no expression, only studying yours even when he reveals nothing. Even Mr. Ksaver had been unable to read him when he was like this, so you know better than to try.

“Mila spoke with the people there, comforted them. It was jarring to see her so kind, but she was. And even then, it was hard. They aren’t exactly the regime’s priority, and the promise, even the swift arrival of aid with the Foundation’s help, could only do so much.”

Zeke’s gaze stretches far beyond the walls of his room, but he brings it back to you when you pause. “So,” he concludes, “you hated us for doing that to them.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is that simple. You saw what Lady Tybur wanted you to see.”

Appalled by the lack of sympathy in his voice, you square your shoulders at him. “Mila didn’t conjure those victims out of thin air, Zeke!”

“That’s right, Lucy.” Zeke rises out of his chair back to his full height, reminding you that he only lets you glare down at him. “The Warriors destroyed their military, their cities, and their homes. And if there were civilians who were too slow, Bertholdt and I destroyed them, too. The ones you saw just weren’t lucky enough to die.”

He advances toward you as he speaks, stopping near enough to barely graze your chin with his chest, and it takes all of the girl from back then to stand your ground. But you can only bear so much, and the sound of the boy you once trusted entirely so remorseless as a man has restrained grief ringing in your ears. “Don’t say it like that.”

“How should I say it?” Zeke asks closely, head tilted toward you. Even with the reflection of his lamp shining into his glasses, his eyes, half-lidded with what must be disinterest, bear no light in them. “Should I be crying like you, acting like you know what it was like?”

“I’m not crying.” You fix another glare at him, but it doesn’t last long. Your vision is blurry and your cheeks are wet with runaway guilt, and you wipe them with the back of your hand. “I’m sorry, all right?” you raise your voice, speaking forcefully through your shaking voice.

“I… I thought I’d seen everything here in Liberio, but that place was hell. And Mila said to me… She said it was greed back in Marley that kept things this way. The regime’s… but ours, too. To free the Eldians in the Marleyan internment zones, you… we... made things worse for everyone else in the world. I ate it up. I couldn’t bear to face those people knowing I had been a part of that, no matter our promise. It was easier to turn against the idea of you.”

Zeke is no longer looking at you. You feel like the earth swallowing you whole would feel better than the pressure crumpling at your chest, but there’s no way to go but forward.

“So I did. Held onto that for months and had nightmares about Ulodana for twice as long. By the time I realized how pathetic, how stupid I was… I was too ashamed to write back.”

The steel that has constituted Zeke’s bearing since your arrival has withdrawn. He seems exhausted, resigned as he sets his eyes upon you again. You watch each other for what feels like eternity, in the place where you first became friends, both trying to feel out whether a sliver of that bond between clean hands still remains between the two of you now.

Whatever it is he decides, he asks, “If you knew better... why didn’t you visit? We all heard about Lord Tybur making trips here over the years. He never stopped sending his gratitude to my grandparents and Mr. Finger, either.”

You huff, not at him but at the thought of your older brother, even as you sniffle. “Willy wouldn’t let me. I became… too willful.”

Zeke raises his brows at that.

“When I figured out Mila’s true intentions, I realized just how much the Tyburs were at fault. They hid it all from me when father died, but… I learned everything. Our relationship with the regime most of all.”

You’re grateful when he doesn’t ask you to elaborate, because despite everything, you don’t want to tell him the whole truth about the Tyburs. If there’s anything that might make him hate you for good, it might just be that. You know that certainly did it for you in spite of Lara’s good intentions.

“We knew. My ancestors knew about Fritz’s vow and still refused to speak out for Eldians, didn’t protest the development of the Warrior program when it happened. I mean—” Your hands rake through your hair, stopping only when they’re caught in the end of the half-ponytail you’ve been wearing. “Child soldiers? We always knew Marley was vicious, but we—Marley—sent children to Paradis on a recon mission, alone! I didn’t realize it until I saw my niece. She’s eight now. A baby. At that age we were slogging through the mud, learning to assemble weapons, to kill! What kind of monsters would allow…”

Your hands slide down your face and cover your mouth as your head shakes on its own. You’ve said this all before, to Willy, to Lara, to Pieck, and you’re exhausted. You both know the answer to that question, anyway.

“The Tybur family doesn’t get involved except to play the benevolent Eldians to the world’s devils, all to soften Marley’s image to the world. It doesn’t care that Eldians abroad are even worse off than we are here because of our Titans. It doesn’t care that Marley draws that debt on Eldia’s name,” you murmur, voice fluttering with emotion again, “not its own. Willy didn’t appreciate how angry I was and wanted to keep me at the estate until I could calm down.”

You only realize you’ve been rambling when all you hear is the cracking of your knuckles beneath your thumbs at your sides and the low hum of the lamps around you. Biting your tongue, you venture a glance up at Zeke, who has his back to you on his way back to the desk, hand in his hair. You don’t know if it’s worse than seeing what he must think.

“But I really am sorry,” you take a step, another after him when he doesn’t turn to look. “You all deserved more. I… I understand if...”

Zeke whirls just before you touch the hem of his shirt, seized instead by a thought. “Why let you choose to study here, then? Magath’s summons?”

At this point, you practically leap at the chance to respond, hands raised slightly. “No. It was Lara. She convinced him to let me, when she saw how much I’d studied. Actually studied, you know,” you chuckle, nervously when he acknowledges it with only a tilt of his head. “And by then I had learned enough of Mila’s game to pretend I had given up.”

“Oh.”

You barely just catch the disappointment in his tone.

“And I missed you,” you scramble to add, obviously. “I missed you all so much. I swore to be on my best behavior just so I could come back.”

A hint of warmth fills Zeke’s deep blues, but he glances away with a familiar eyeroll. “Good save.”

You frown. “I mean it. I just didn’t know it had to be said. You were my first friends. I didn’t exactly make many in boarding school. They were too different.”

“So you were just lonely.”

“Not just lonely,” you say, prepared to launch into another passionate speech about how much you ached to see your friends again, how much of your pride you sacrificed to pester Willy to let you go with the promise of Liberio’s impressive own medical program, when you catch the slight amusement tugging at Zeke’s mouth. “You—are you—” you sputter, embarrassment seeping in cold, before you manage to close your mouth. “You… are awful.”

Zeke smirks. “Even if I forgive you?”

It’s infectious, and you have to resist the urge to both laugh and cry at the very concept of his forgiveness. Eyes wide, you watch him carefully. “Do you?”

He crosses his arms again, sitting back against his chair. “I can put you through more hoops, if you’d like.”

“No!” you gasp, the heat of indignation taking over the chagrin, only to sigh when you realize you’ve given yourself away. “Well, I wouldn’t blame you. You have all the right to be angry.”

“...I was a pretty angry teenager too,” Zeke shrugs. “Then a spoiled little girl had to come and keep disturbing me because if she couldn’t get any sleep, then neither could I.”

Your jaw drops. “That is not how that went. Besides,” you raise your head, every inch the Tybur, even as you slowly make your way to the edge of his bed and take a seat, “that girl was the reason you have any friends at all. I… I bet you missed her.”

“Sure. Now where did you put her?” The full familiarity in his voice has you smiling now, or maybe it’s the grin he openly wears. “Only figured out it was you when I realized there could only be three Eldian runts Magath would ever care to acknowledge.”

You stare at him for a beat and then make to push yourself off the bed. “Anyway, I’m going to sleep now that I’ve apologized.”

“Aw, come on,” Zeke laughs, reaching for your arm, and you squint at him as you dramatically tear it from his grasp. Still, you fling yourself back upon the edge. He leaves his desk to occupy the space next to you, one knee drawn up over his sheets. “Honestly? I was more surprised they’d let anyone in Magath’s office with such a messy armband.” He reaches over and adjusts the pale one wrapped around your arm, pulling out the edges folded in. “You know you don’t need to wear this at home, right?”

For some reason, your breath catches as the heat of his fingers gently press through the cloth of your sleeve. You recover with a cough and a quick oops. “Force of habit. That was the one thing boarding school was stricter about than the military.” You smile at him, leaning away from his touch. “Thanks.”

Zeke suddenly withdraws his hands, now watching you instead of the sleeve. “...Yeah. Just make sure you check it before you leave the house tomorrow,” he says sternly. Not a tone you’ve ever heard from him in private.

Regarding him strangely, and desperate to bring you both back from this alien tension between you, you sit up straight and stiffly raise your hand to your shoulder in salute. “Yes, Warchief.”

Zeke responds with a blank look in his eye, mostly, save the tinge of humor kindled by the upward tug of your lips. You can tell he’s about to kick you out of his room.

“I’m kidding.” You lower your arm, sensing the return of that comfortable familiarity. “I haven’t congratulated you on your official promotion, either.”

His mirth fades. “Do you hate me for it?”

“No. No,” you stress, as though he has no reason to ask. “You’ve done what you’ve had to.”

After a long inhale, Zeke sighs as he nods. This time, it is he who fills the silence. “Uh—I’m sorry again about your father. So he was the...”

“Yeah.”

He gives you a once-over, as if to search for Titan marks. “Are you…?”

“No, I’m not.”

The slight bitterness in your voice draws Zeke’s gaze back to yours. You shrug before he can say any more of it and try to put it out of your mind. Those are, after all, matters for the Tybur estate. You’re here now, and Zeke has forgiven you. In spite of everything else, the thought makes you giddy with relief, and you rear your head toward him with a smile.

“So… is there anything you want to tell me?”

Zeke wonders who might have been chosen to inherit the War Hammer instead of its most obvious candidate, but mostly he’s glad it isn’t you. It’s a selfish thought he keeps to himself, but the idea of you living past your twenty-sixth year is one that does not fill him with dread.

Thirty-nine. He’s thinking about how you’ll live to be thirty-nine when your voice interrupts what he imagines you might look like by then. Your tone says you’re fishing for something, so he opens his mouth, meeting your gaze to tell you you’re not quite as much taller than Pieck as you think (he has one joke), nor is subtlety your strong suit, when the whole of you seems to come at him all at once. Your now messy hair, crinkled eyes, that expression he used to find both funny and irritating on your mouth—except the obnoxious grin that subsumes it as he lets the silence pass is suddenly... adorable.

Huh?

Sitting back, Zeke abruptly presses his palm to your face and promptly pushes it away. “Don’t press your luck, Blanchard.”

You smack his hand off, face flushed as you cry out, “Rude!”

He’s already laughing, using your indignation to overcome the urge to gulp down the breath caught in his throat when you suddenly lean back on his bed and raise your foot. You kick it into his side with a strength he absolutely remembers, sending his ribs knocking against his footboard with a groan. “Ow! You—get out of here and let me sleep already!”

You smile to yourself as you lower your legs to the floor, feet searching for your house slippers. “I chose not to go for your face, you know.”

“Are you seriously studying to be a doctor?” Zeke mutters, rubbing at his side. “You haven’t changed at all.”

You chuckle through a yawn, hand over your mouth as you ease yourself to your feet. “Okay.”

He rights himself quickly when you’re crossing his room toward his door already. “Lucy, wait.”

You stop, lean against his desk with a small smile like it’s your room. “Hmm?”

Zeke pretends to shake his head at your audacity, letting you grin a little longer before he asks, “Do you want to meet the new Warriors tomorrow?” You blink, and he starts to regret the question. “I just figured—”

“I’d like that.” You open your mouth, ostensibly to say more, when both of you hear movement from down the hall. Footsteps by the stairs. “I should go. See you tomorrow.”

He waves, content to watch you hurriedly leave his room. When he hears the door to yours open and click shut, he goes himself and catches his grandmother still sleepily making her way out into the low lit corridor. Her hands are searching for the stairway light switch.

“Grandma?” he asks, coming over to set a supportive hand along her upper back. “Why are you up so late?”

“Zeke,” she smiles in greeting, yawning. “I was just going to get some water.”

“Let me. I’ll get new glasses for you and grandpa, so go back inside.” When his grandmother thanks him, he heads for the stairs, bounding down the steps with sudden enthusiasm.

Your words will stay with him long after you’ve forgotten them, and perhaps not for the better—but for the moment, Zeke feels inexplicably light.

So do you when you awake the next morning. Of course you’re still sorry for all you did, or didn’t, do, and you know you deserved all the guilt, the anxiety, being on tenterhooks about your friendships for all that you left Zeke and Pieck hanging. But now that their forgiveness is a certainty, you feel utterly content. Now you can start making it up to them.

Then again, you are so pleased that you could lie in bed all morning and hardly feel guilty.

But you have miles to go, so you roll out of your blankets and get yourself ready for the day. Briefly, you wonder if Zeke has gone ahead again, but you find the answer you wanted as you open the door to the dining room downstairs.

He’s chewing on a piece of bread as he waves at you, the last bite in his hand. “Morning. Breakfast?”

He really has forgiven you, and everything can go back to the way it was. “Morning,” you beam, though you decline as you pass him on the way to the kitchen. “No thank you. I ate too much last night.” You pour yourself some water instead. “Did you have some of the blueberry pie?”

“Yeah. The Galliards always make quality stuff.” He dusts his uniform off as he stands and heads for the sink with his plate. “Though I could tell who cut it because she left the side with the slightly burnt crust in.”

“It’s crispy, and you know that’s my favorite part,” you huff, leaning against the counter next to him and handing him your empty glass. “That was part of my apology.”

Zeke grins, eyes to his task. “Yeah, yeah.”

You refrain from elbowing him and move to start cleaning his crumbs off the table and the floor. “Where are Mr. and Mrs. Yeager?”

“Market day. Oh—bring a book. We can drop in on the candidates come lunchtime.” He glances over his shoulder. “Or did you have other plans today?”

“I wanted to pass by the university and find the general book list for the first years, but after the line I went through yesterday... I’m not in the mood. I’ll bring a book.”

“Good.”

The two of you head out once the dining room and the kitchen are spotless. The sky is overcast this morning, so the zone takes its time waking up for the day, even with others already on their way to work.

It starts to properly stir on your way to the gate. The view of the zone coming to life is something you once enjoyed watching on break days, especially compared to the lonely silence of the estate and eventually to the rigid rush of boarding school, but you don’t get to see all that much today—Zeke purposely avoids the larger avenue coming to the gate and leads you through side streets and alleys instead. Something about avoiding the morning rush.

You don’t mind. You’re still waking up, too.

Eldians have no real hope of rising through military ranks, save those sacrificed among the Warrior unit, so Zeke’s office is quite impressive. He has his own mahogany desk, an entire bookshelf packed with volumes, yet more books and maps stacked against the wall, and his own gramophone. Not to mention the view outside the window behind his desk. He even has a cabinet to the side for his own alcohol, tea, or coffee—the latter of which he offers to you once you two arrive.

“Coffee, please,” you say, on one of the pillowed seats surrounding the coffee table at the center of the room. Sitting back, you throw an arm over the backrest to peer at the bookshelf behind you. “That’s quite a selection. I can’t believe you have your own office now.” You grin, turning back to watch him quietly preparing you a cup. “Zeke?”

“Coming right up.”

His response seems a little muted. When you question him with a tilt of your head, he jerks his in the direction of the gramophone.

Ah, you mouth. Even the Warchief can’t have his own office without being tapped. Par for the course when there are Eldians about, you imagine. That explains why the guards at the front gate delayed you with meandering conversation as soon as Zeke mentioned taking you to his office.

“So what kind of work do you do anyway, Warchief?” you continue far too seriously, absentmindedly flipping through your book for your marker.

“You know that’s top secret, Miss Blanchard,” says Zeke, who of course plays into it. “Unless you’d like to join the ranks again. You’re certainly welcome to.”

You sigh. You never win when you try him like this. “Commander Magath told you?”

Zeke chuckles, walking your coffee over. “He mentioned hoping you might still be interested in our line of work.”

“Was he mad?” Regardless of your feelings about the regime, you have always remained conflicted about your former drill instructor. There was a time you were certain he wanted you dead, and you won’t forget what he and Commander Bruning put the rest through even more than yourself, but there were flashes of kindness you saw from him that you’ve never witnessed from any other Marleyan as Lucy Blanchard. You still don’t know how to feel about him.

Zeke snorts at such a childish question, pulling out several folders from his desk drawer as he takes his seat. “Should I ask him?”

“Of course not!”

He chuckles in response, and then starts to ignore you completely for his work. Grumbling incoherently at him from behind your tilted cup for good measure, you turn to your book and begin to read.

Your coffee is long finished next to a similarly empty glass of water by the time you start yawning. You’ve read the same page thrice now, and that’s when you know you need to get off your ass and take a little walk around the room.

Zeke yawns as you start a cross-arm stretch by the door. “You’re so noisy.”

“The nerve of this man, inviting me to his office and then complaining when I breathe.”

He smiles. “Breathe more quietly, then.” Slamming the folder he was reading shut, he follows you to his feet and pulls at his sleeve to check his watch. “Almost lunch time. Want to go check on the candidates?”

Your deadpan stare at his earlier remark remains until you feel just how empty your stomach is. Skipping breakfast was not your best idea, but you prefer it that way before you have to see the poor children who will one day replace your friends. “All right.”

The two of you wind your way through the complex and out to the courtyard, where the sun remains blessedly hidden as you watch the children at the far end doing their loaded running for the day. You hear them more than you see them, panting as they do their best to earn the honor of that red armband on Zeke’s sleeve.

Zeke catches your doleful expression and lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I do not miss those days.”

You grimace at him. “My body hurts just remembering them.”

“Don’t remind me. I was dead last in my class before I built any endurance.”

You don’t comment on the real story behind that. The children are coming closer to your side of the courtyard, though they don’t appear to notice you, and Zeke points them out: Udo, a boy with glasses whose family moved to Liberio from Marley’s new southern territories; Zofia, a girl with a heavy fringe who reminds you strangely of Annie; Falco, a blond boy who—Zeke cuts himself off when the last candidate pushes past them all with a yell. That one is Gabi Braun, Reiner’s younger cousin.

“Cousin? Extended families aren’t made honorary Marleyans?”

“I was a special case, for obvious reasons,” Zeke answers your real question. “And yeah. Otherwise there would be too many of us, right?”

You frown, starting to fall into deep thought again when a familiar bark makes you nearly jump out of your skin.

“Hey! No Eldian civilians allowed on base!”

An older man is jogging over, almost comically shaking his fist at you. It’s as he comes up to the building that he notices Zeke on your other side, and now he peers more closely at your face, head cocked forward.

“You—” he starts. The years have been kinder to him than to Commander Magath, so there is no mistaking him. As his footsteps slow, his posture shifts from indignation to surprise, and then finally settles on diffidence. “Is that you, Miss Ty—”

“Blanchard,” Zeke coughs.

“Miss Blanchard?” he finishes.

“Instructor Marras.” Among the three who assisted Magath with Warrior training, he was probably the most bearable, if only because he left you to your own devices. He was much kinder when he discovered your true name, which was a shame. “What a pleasure.”

“We didn’t think we’d ever see you again around here,” he smiles widely, briefly acknowledging Zeke. “What brings you back around this end of Marley?”

“This and that,” you say, not quite in the mood to get into it when you can see the children still running. As though he’s read your mind, Zeke steps up next to you and signals toward them. “Isn’t it about time for lunch?”

Marras follows his gesture. “Ah. They got a little mouthy since I’ve been going easy on them, so training has been extended. But,” he says, attention back to his visitors, “you rarely come to check in on the new candidates, and you visit us even less, Lucy!”

Waving at you to wait just a moment, he barks at the children to come over. They’re even smaller than you imagined up close, just like your niece Fine, panting as they clutch their replica rifles for dear life. They do their best to salute Marras, but very obviously find it difficult to keep their composure when they see Zeke.

“It’s the Beast Titan,” Udo yelps.

“His name is Zeke Yeager, dummy,” Gabi nudges him with what she must think is a whisper.

Zeke raises his hand in a bland wave, “Hey, kids,” but you can’t help your delighted chuckle. Fine is a very reserved little girl compared to these excitable children. Wide with effort and at a real Warrior’s arrival, their eyes all dart to you, and Gabi’s in particular squint at your armband. “I thought civilians weren’t allowed in HQ?”

“And I don’t remember asking if you had questions, candidate,” Marras snaps in his Instructor Voice. The children straighten up at once.

“Sir, sorry, Sir!” Udo and Gabi yell out. Zofia and Falco quietly exchange glances.

“Hello. I’m Lucy,” you cut in with a smile. “I was a Warrior candidate in my time, just like you.”

You can all tell that they’re itching to ask why your armband is grey instead of yellow like Porco’s was until recently, but Marras doesn’t let them. You find yourself grateful to him for once. “It’s thanks to Zeke and Miss Blanchard here that you’ll get an early lunch in spite of all that yapping earlier. So thank them, get changed, and get your sorry asses to the mess hall.”

“Thank you, Zeke! Thank you, Miss Blanchard!” They mix up whose name goes first between the four of them, but Marras doesn’t bother with a correction and nods. The children salute, all of them a mixture of suitably chastised and utterly relieved.

“Dismissed!”

Nodding and offering you and Zeke grateful little smiles that make your heart melt, the four walk as quickly as they can to storage to deposit their load. Gabi nudges Zofia on the way, challenging her to a race, and the boys bump each other to catch up while Zofia chooses to keep her own pace, simply shaking her head.

Marras sighs, hand over his stomach. “I should get going myself.”

Zeke agrees, “Don’t let us keep you.”

“All right. But you should drop by more often, Miss Blanchard,” says Marras. “I’m sure the Commander would be pleased to see you. He worries. About all of you,” he adds, nodding toward Zeke.

Neither of you replies to that when Marras departs. In fact, you pretend not to have heard it as you both stare into the courtyard. “They seem like sweet children,” you start after a while, “though I don’t remember being that boisterous.”

Zeke breaks the mood with the most disgusting snort as he bursts into laughter. “You? Sure, Lucy. All right.”

You peer up at him, refusing to dignify such a violent reaction with one of your own, even if it does please you to see him laugh so much around you again. “You know what I mean. Maybe I was insolent, but I wasn’t boisterous.”

“Maybe, is it? Well, all I know is I’d grown out of all that by the time you and Pieck were selected.”

“Apparently not enough, Yeager, if you think Marley pays you to tour civilians around HQ.”

You and Zeke whirl in perfect sync to raise your right hands at that imposing voice, except you manage to swing yours right over your ear to pretend you were tucking stray hair behind it just in time to meet Commander Magath’s lifted brow. Behind him stand a surprised Porco and another Warrior candidate, much older than the eight-year olds you just met.

You clear your throat at once, hand falling to your side. “About yesterday, Sir...”

Magath nods at Zeke in acknowledgment before waving at you. “Don’t mention it, Blanchard. It’s a choice for a reason, and really it was supposed to be the briefing.”

That’s as much of an apology as you’ll get around the others, so you nod. “I understand, Sir.” You lean a little on your right side, trying to steal a peek around the corner. “So Pieck has already gone?”

“Not that you need to know, but yes.”

You try not to flinch at the reprimand. Force of habit. “And Braun, Sir?”

Now Magath peers at you. “His debriefing ends today, if you want to see him that badly. Yeager, I’ll leave that to you since she’s your guest.”

“Yes, Sir.”

With a nod of dismissal at all of you, he continues down across the courtyard, leaving Porco and the candidate behind.

Porco glances between you and Zeke. “Friends again, huh?”

Zeke stares at him. “Problem?”

You don’t know it, but that’s Zeke’s Warchief Voice, one Porco has never heard outside of training. He immediately shrugs. “Just curious.”

“All right. Lucy, we might as well have lunch first before you go see Reiner.”

You nod, and gesture unsurely at the two before you. “Would… you like to join us?”

“I’m good. Got errands to run for the Commander since Pieck is out and you’re too good for chores,” says Porco, gambling a glare at Zeke in jest. When Zeke chuckles, he sighs. “See you around.” Giving the quiet candidate next to him a light smack on the shoulder, he heads back the way they came.

By now the Warrior candidate looks very confused but also very familiar to you. Luckily Zeke has decided that it’s finally time to introduce you, a former Warrior candidate yourself—and then the boy, who cannot be older than fifteen. “This is Colt Grice. Falco’s older brother, and the new Beast Titan candidate.”

“Oh.” It feels like a weight has settled in your stomach when you realize that it is about time they selected the candidate meant to inherit from Zeke, who received the Beast Titan around a year ahead of the rest. Seeing the children just made you… complacent, think that there was more time. “I guess it makes sense that they chose someone a little older, too.” You smile, slightly guilty about his obvious unease after your reaction. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Colt.”

“No, it’s my pleasure, Miss Blanchard,” he says politely, shaking your hand.

“You can call me Lucy,” you insist, and then jab a thumb over your shoulder. “The children left for the mess hall, by the way.”

Zeke raises a hand to correct you. “Colt doesn’t need to know that. He’s not made to babysit them like I was.”

“Really?” you ask Colt, who nods in affirmation. “But that was half the fun.”

“She means half the torture,” Zeke says to Colt, who chuckles nervously at his superior. “No, I figured he could take on other responsibilities. Like letting the barracks know that Reiner’ll be having visitors after lunch, and then meeting us at the mess hall. Right?”

“Yes, Sir,” says Colt, clearly eager to please. He gives you another smile before he runs off.

“Falco’s older brother,” you repeat, when the boy is out of earshot. “This isn’t like Marcel and Porco. Why is Falco in the program?”

Zeke clicks his tongue. “The Grices are nephews of one of my parents’ co-conspirators. They need to prove their loyalty, for their family’s sake.”

“After all these years. Poor things.” Not that you’re surprised. Marley has a long memory, however false. “Did you have a hand in choosing him?”

“Wouldn’t that make the brass suspicious? It was the commander’s choice alone.”

“Huh.”

“They’re good kids, Colt especially. Now come on—” he nudges you forward with his elbow as he passes you, “you should eat before you see Reiner or you’ll lose your appetite for good.”

“...That bad?”

Walking ahead of you, Zeke only shrugs. You don’t know if that should worry or comfort you, so you follow suit.

Reiner is in his own room in the barracks, resting, when you visit him. He’s just finished eating his lunch when you arrive, and your shock at seeing him is a perfect reflection of his at seeing you. You last looked upon him as a boy, and though you know he only turns eighteen this year, he is now, most undoubtedly, a man. Almost everything about him is unfamiliar to you. His height, for one, his broad build, the slight stubble he’s neglected to shave for the past few days. His demeanor as he stares at you.

You thought Pieck spoke of growing up in general when she compared the two of you having become completely different, but it’s only now that you understand what she meant. Long ago, try as you might to deny it, the two of you were, with Porco, the most boisterous Warrior candidates in your generation. You left no challenge, even your superiors at first, unanswered; Reiner was certain, no matter his rank among you, that he would inherit before the Paradis operation; and Porco was quick to remind you how stupid and ridiculous you both were.

But that was many years ago. Porco failed but has remained mostly himself, and you failed and realized the sham that is Tybur pride. Between the three of you, only Reiner achieved his dream—and yet you are more similar with one another than with Porco. Even amid his utter shock, the shame in his gaze as he meets yours, though unfamiliar on Reiner to your eyes, is one you’ve intimately known for some time now.

“Lucy?”

“Reiner,” you greet.

Reiner smiles in spite of himself. You do too. You were never close, but if nothing else, you were still Warrior candidates together. “You’ve... grown.” His voice is deep now, just like Zeke’s, but his is… gentle. Another unexpected development.

“That’s an overstatement, compared to you,” you chuckle. He smiles just a little wider, almost shy, but only for a beat. He remembers swiftly enough when he is, just like you.

“How are you, Reiner?” you can’t help but ask. Wrong question. You quickly follow it up with, “I’m glad your debriefing has ended. You deserve to rest at home, with your family.”

“I…” He appears to disagree, lowering his head at once. For one heartbreaking moment, you wonder if you see a shimmer beneath his lashes, but he only seems curious when he blinks up at you again. “Thanks, Lucy.” His voice is steady. Maybe you were imagining things. “I can’t believe I haven’t seen you since you were called home.”

You don’t complain about the change in subject. “Yeah… I always wished I could have seen you all off,” you murmur, even if part of you is glad you didn’t have to witness Pieck’s sorrow firsthand. Seeing it in Reiner at the mention of the operation, though, you add, “Oh, actually—I just got back a couple days ago, not too long after the rest of you. I’m enrolling in the medical program at Liberio University.”

“Oh?” He considers your words. “So you didn’t…”

That is the question of the century about you, isn’t it? At least among the Warriors. But then who else really knows who you are? “No.”

“Ah.” Reiner nods, more times than is really necessary. You know he doesn’t know whether to congratulate you or to apologize. “The medical program, though. That’s… unexpected.”

“Why does everyone say that?” you laugh. “Is it really so strange for me?”

“Uh—no,” he replies with an apologetic rush. You realize just how much you dislike it in his tone. Zeke says you were always last to say sorry, if you did at all. The same went for Reiner. Where is that obnoxious little boy you knew? “It’s better that way. You’ll do great.”

“I hope to,” you admit, but this visit isn’t supposed to be about you. “Anyway, Reiner… I just wanted to see how you were doing. I missed you all, and I’m really glad you’re back home.”

He’s too slow to conceal his surprise this time, or the way he blinks away coming tears. He always was a bit of a crybaby. To a child who desired to live up to her family name, that was a weakness. To a woman who knows better, you wish you could have told him it was all right. “We… I missed you all, too. It was…” he swallows. “I...”

The truth is you were a crybaby too, just not in front of the others, but you can’t help it when you hear the tremble in his voice, so grown and yet still the same. The first familiar thing of his that you’ve witnessed. Flicking a knuckle at your nose, you nod when he trails off. “You don’t have to say anything. Pieck told me the little she could.”

“Yeah?” he asks innocently enough. And then his voice shifts into something just a little tougher. Maybe harder. “What did Zeke say?”

“Zeke? We didn’t really…” It comes to you as you say it. “...talk about it.”

Of course you didn’t. You were busy talking about you, and he quite literally pushed you away when you tried to ask. But that doesn’t seem to be what Reiner is searching for in the first place. Not with that look on his face—another familiar expression, but not because you know it from your own heart. It’s familiar because you saw it just last night.

“Should I be crying like you, acting like you know what it was like?”

Zeke’s eyes as he said those words were recalling a memory you can never understand, you know now, because it’s the same with Reiner. Whatever he went through in Paradis for years will only ever be a tale to you. Your shared memories ended before you turned thirteen.

Still, the resentment that you saw in Zeke remains in Reiner’s golden eyes; only this time you don’t believe it’s meant for you.

You reach out to him, clearly elsewhere as his fists clench over his knees, but stop when your hand rests on the edge of his bed. “Reiner?”

“Sorry,” he blurts out when he returns to his senses. Somehow, he seems more tired than he already did.

“That’s all right. I should let you rest.” When he nods, shoulders still slumped in apology, you put on a reassuring smile. You understand Reiner even less than you did before, but somehow he also feels more like a kindred spirit than you remember. “When you’re well enough to return, maybe we can have lunch with Pieck.”

Reiner visibly hesitates, but he nods in the end. “Yeah. That sounds nice.”

You bid each other goodbye, though you tell Reiner to stay seated when he tries to walk you to the door. When you close it behind you, glancing around, you assume Colt has been sent on another errand. Only Zeke now awaits you along the wall outside, one hand in his pocket as he smokes a cigarette, gaze once again far beyond the buildings ahead.

When he isn’t playing up his irreverence to deflect or get on somebody else’s nerves, Zeke has always been aloof in public. In that way he hasn’t really changed, but you realize now that you were a fool to think things could just go back to normal between the two of you. Not that they haven’t, on the face of it; he seems perfectly happy to return to your old dynamic, and maybe all this strangeness is just in your head, or a natural consequence of growing up.

Seeing Reiner, though… you realize maybe you were a little too hasty trying to go back. Just like you, just like Reiner, Zeke must have changed. You wonder how; wonder what he could have done, apart from suggesting the debriefing, that would make a now gentle Reiner wear such resentment. You have some idea, but you brush it aside before you can dwell on it.

“If you want to try smoking,” Zeke chuckles, “all you have to do is ask.”

You blink, cheeks tingling with embarrassment and a sheepish smile when you realize he’s caught you staring. He holds the smoke out for you, but you wave his hand away. “No thanks.”

“So?” He pushes himself off the wall, putting the cigarette out under his shoe. “What do you think?”

You fall into step with him and take a deep breath. “I think maybe he just needs more time to rest. Grieve properly.”

“Generous evaluation.”

“I think it’s more… it’s not my place to say.”

Zeke regards you with an indecipherable look, but it disappears as soon as you try to capture it. He only shrugs. “Okay. I need to get back to work. Want to stay, or will you be going home?”

You pretend to give it some thought. “I can stick around your office a little longer.”

“Good. Just try to keep it down.”

He chuckles at your eyeroll and starts to head back to the offices with you in tow. You stare at his back as he turns a corner ahead of you until he glances over his shoulder, ensuring you’re still with him. You give him a smile, brows raising with a question he answers with a shake of his head. But he’s smiling too, the one you got to know past that wall of apathy, and you know that he can’t possibly have changed all that much.

Zeke is still your best friend—the only one who knew everything about you, and the one who trusted only you with everything about him. You’re sure of it.

/////

I mean, obviously, aside from Mr. Ksaver. Do I think Zeke was the guy whose only friends were younger kids he was forced to interact with for his own survival? Yes. His best friend in canon and the only important person he trusted in his childhood/adolescence was his father stand-in, and even if as he grew up I'm sure he became more sociable (and likeable/'admirable' to Marleyan Eldians as a Warrior), Zeke's existence is a lonely one in my eyes because of the way he viewed life and the lives of others. There would have had to be certain circumstances to gain his absolute trust I think, so feel special, Reader/Lucy. Haha. I swear I love Zeke even if I see him as this sad and lonely bastard.

Also, I know it's not obvious, but I don't dislike Porco. I actually like him a lot (except when he's like -that- to Reiner) and he influenced/es Reader/Lucy more than he knows. And I know I didn't mention Bertholdt in this chapter but that would have been a sensitive topic for Reiner, so Reader/Lucy knows to avoid it for now. (I just wanted to make that disclaimer because I love Bertholdt and I miss him a lot.)

Thank you for reading! I would love to hear what you think so far.

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crystalninjaphoenix · 3 years

Text

Wyvernlair

Fantasy Masks AU: Chapter Three

A JSE Fanfic

Ta-da! Another chapter! :D This is the one I was talking about, with a lot of worldbuilding and new characters. It’s also one of my longer stories, and I had to cut out a scene near the end, but don’t worry, you’ll see that next time. Now that Chase is officially part of the Masked Phantoms, it’s time for him to get to know the layout of Wyvernlair, meet new people, and learn new things. So get ready for a whole lot of all that. Hope you guys enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was clear that Jackie was eager to have someone new to show around Wyvernlair. He led the way, pointing out important features of the camp. Most of the center area was taken up by tents for people to stay in. In addition, there was an area dedicated to cooking, with campfires and stacks of pots and dishes, a wide, clear area for people to practice sword fighting and other combat, and a large space for storage.

All this was fairly normal for any camp. Or at least, that’s what Chase figured, considering he’d never been in a camp of any kind. But he was pretty sure that the massive skeleton made Wyvernlair much different than any other camp. Every bit had been planned around the bones embedded in the ground. The tents were encircled by the dragon. The cooking fires were dotted around the leg bones. The combat field was spread out along the wings that extended out from the rest of the body. And the storage was inside the oversized ribcage, canvas stretched over the gaps to keep out the weather.

Inside the ribs was the most incredible place Chase had ever been. He kept his head craned upward, following the curve of the ivory bones, each one big enough that it would take three full grown men to encircle it. The storage inside the ribcage was much less impressive in comparison, though he did have to admit he’d never seen this amount of weapons, armor, parchment, and foodstuffs in one place. Not to mention all the miscellaneous items as well, like lanterns and chests for storage.

“Oh, you need a jacket!” Jackie suddenly said, bringing Chase back to the conversation. “You can take one of the communal ones, over here.” He grabbed Chase’s hand and pulled him to the side of the ribs, where the chests were full of various clothing, each labeled with types and sizes. “Unless you’re a cloak person?”

“Uh, no, I...jackets are good,” Chase said dazedly.

“Great! What are you, a five?” Jackie waited for Chase to nod, then headed over to the appropriate chest. “We don’t have that many fives left...a lot of people have measurements around there.” He flipped open the chest lid. “Um...yeah, there’s just one. Hope you like yellow.” After a bit of rummaging, he pulled out a dull flaxen jacket and tossed it in Chase’s direction.

Chase fumbled for a bit before catching it. It was a fairly normal jacket, and he quickly pulled it on. Autumn in the mountains was not a time to walk around without one. He’d been chilly all through their walk.

“Alright, all that’s left is the skull,” Jackie said. “I don’t know how often you’ll be in there, but it’s good to—”

“I’m sorry, I’m still caught up on the fact that I’m inside a dragon skeleton,” Chase interrupted.

Henrik, who’d been following the tour quietly and letting Jackie do all the talking, suddenly burst into laughter. “I told you. It is shocking, isn’t it?”

“Well...yes!” Chase looked back up at the curve of the ribs above him, slowly shaking his head. “I heard dragons were large, but I didn’t really...picture it, before this.”

“Technically, this is not the skeleton of a full-blooded great dragon,” Henrik said.

“What?”

“The dragon that most people think of, with four legs and two or more wings? That is a great dragon,” Henrik explained. “I’m sure you noticed this one only has two legs; it was likely a wyvern/great dragon crossbreed.”

“Hence the name ‘Wyvernlair,’” Jackie added.

“What’s the difference?” Chase asked.

“Wyverns only had two legs and larger wings. They walked a bit like birds do,” Henrik continued. “And they were usually much smaller. There are some accounts of humans riding them. So this was either an abnormally large wyvern, or it was a crossbreed with the great dragons. Which, yes, could grow as big as this, but that was not so common.”

“Elders,” Chase muttered. The fact that there were once creatures as large as this roaming the land, big enough to encircle half a town...it made him glad they weren’t around anymore.

“It was really lucky that we found this place,” Jackie said. “Not because of the skeleton, but because of its location. There are no trees growing near the bones, so we have room to spread out, and we have our backs to a rock wall, which makes it more defensible.” He paused. “Anyway, the last part on our tour is the skull, and then we can set you up with a tent. Oh, actually, the spare tents are kept here. Let’s grab that now.”

“I get my own?” Chase said, surprised.

“Of course, we have plenty to spare,” Jackie said casually. “We brought a whole bunch up, but recruitment has been slow.”

“Nonexistent,” Henrik muttered. He reached into one of his belt pouches and took out a small flask, taking a quick drink.

“Well...yes,” Jackie admitted. “But let’s go, we’re almost done!”

The skull was just as massive as the rest of the skeleton, with wicked sharp teeth as tall as Chase. He stared at them as Jackie and Henrik led him around to the back, where there was a slight gap where the skull met the spine. They passed through that gap and ended up inside. Much like the ribs, the skull had been converted into a room, with canvas blocking the eye sockets and nasal cavity to make a rough roof. This wasn’t as large as the storage, but it was still at least three times as large as Chase’s cottage. There were more chests in here, and a few rickety desks where people—masks always nearby—sat, reading and writing on parchment. They all glanced up as the three men entered the room, then looked away.

In the middle of the skull was a large circular table, made of solid, dark wood and surrounded by chairs. Various maps were spread out on the surface of the table, held down with weights.

Chase glanced at the largest map, and immediately recognized it as a map of the kingdom of Glasúil. A detailed one, too, covering almost all of the island. The Dragon’s Teeth mountains ran down the center, with the smaller Northaven range branching off to the east, along the northern shore. The Southern Moors were present, slowly merging into the sea. Rivers and forests he’d never heard of crossed the parchment, and each major town and city was represented by a labeled black dot. The only part of the map left blank was the area to the west of the Dragon’s Teeth, which simply had “Wyldwood” written across it.

“Oh hey, you like the maps?” Jackie asked, noticing Chase’s attention. “We use those for planning stuff. A lot of strategy and meetings happen here. This is also where we keep all our records and sort through all our messages with other Phantom locations. Since you’re part of the group now, you’ll eventually go on missions, and if that’s the case, you’ll have to write a report and deliver it here.”

“Missions?” Chase repeated. His head was starting to swim a bit with all the new information.

“Well, if you want to,” Jackie said awkwardly. “I mean, you could stay here and do medicine with Henrik, or be part of our administration—”

“Administration?” This time, Chase laughed a bit when he repeated the word.

“Organization is very important,” Schneep emphasized. “There are a lot of us, and we do a lot of things. If we have no organization then we do not know what we’re doing!”

“Yeah, and those things we do are...missions,” Jackie said.

“Alright, what kind of...missions?” Chase asked.

“Depends. We might need to investigate someplace, or something, or someone. We might need to go in and stop an act of injustice, or rescue people who’ve been hurt.” Jackie paused. “If...if we’d heard about the King’s plans for the mountain villages to burn, then we could have...shown up. In time.”

Chase felt his stomach twist at the mention of the burning villages. There was guilt in Jackie’s voice; he clearly felt awful that the Phantoms couldn’t do anything to prevent that. “Well.” Chase took a deep breath. “I guess we’ll have to make sure things like that don’t happen again.”

Jackie nodded. Henrik placed a hand on his shoulder, and that seemed to steady him. He drew himself to his full height and stiffened his posture. “Exactly. The King may think he can get away with any of this, just because of his position. But the people will not stand for it. We will not stand for it. As long as his actions cause death and damage, we will work to remove him.”

For a moment, Chase was in awe at the resolve Jackie showed. He wasn’t that physically intimidating, being almost a head shorter than Chase and a head and a half shorter than Henrik, but he had a commanding aura. Maybe the strength of his conviction was catching. “Exactly,” Chase said. “That’s—that’s what I want to do.” His simple statement sounded lame in comparison.

Jackie smiled. “And that’s why we’re so glad to have you.” He relaxed a bit, looking over at Henrik. “And if Schneep likes you, then I do, too.”

Chase couldn’t hold back a laugh. “I-I’m sorry? What did you call him?”

Henrik’s expression fell. He took his hand off Jackie’s shoulder and pushed him with his shoulder. “I told you, stop using that.”

“But it’s so fun to say,” Jackie said cheerfully. “Chase, did you know that Henrik’s surname is Schneeplestein?”

Chase fought to stifle his giggles. Now he remembered that particular fact from his first meeting with Henrik. “That’s—well, I’m sure that’s a usual surname in Alterde—”

“It is not,” Henrik said wearily. “It sounds just as ridiculous over there. Go ahead, laugh about it. Get it out of your mind now.”

“No no, I’m fine, I promise.” Chase coughed a bit, clearing his throat of laughter. “At least you have a surname.”

“Ah, it is common to have one where I am from,” Henrik waved away the comment. “I know here it is a nobility thing, but not in Alterde or its neighbors.”

“Really?” Chase said, interested.

“Really. And it is much easier than your family names,” Henrik said bluntly, turning to leave.

“Hey! Wait for us!” Jackie took Chase’s hand and the two of them followed Henrik out of the dragon’s skull.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Chase? Are you awake?”

The first thing Chase heard when waking up was someone calling his voice. Instinctively, he rolled over and stretched his arm to the right. Only to be met with nothing but empty space. Oh. Right.

He opened his eyes to a canvas wall and ceiling. He’d gotten his tent yesterday, and Jackie had shown him how to set it up in a spot near the dragon spine. From there, the rest of the day had passed slowly. Awkwardly, too, as Chase didn’t feel up to approaching any of the masked people who were part of the Phantoms. It felt...strange. Like he was constantly intruding on something. So he just spent time in his tent, and when dinnertime rolled around, he showed up to get some stew from the cooking fires then went off to eat on his own. Eventually, the sun set, and he figured that was time to go to bed.

“Chase?” The voice called again.

“Henrik?” Chase asked, sitting up and wiggling out of the bedroll he’d been given.

“Oh, you are awake. Can I open the flap?”

“Go ahead.” It wasn’t like he was indecent or anything. He was actually still wearing his clothes from the day before. Maybe he should check out the storage, see if they had anything else he could use.

Henrik pushed open the flap of the tent and ducked inside, pushing his owl mask up onto his forehead. “Ah, good. I have something for you.” He held out a folded piece of parchment.

Puzzled, Chase took it. “What is this?” He asked as he unfolded it.

“Well, now that you are a Phantom, there are some things you need to be familiar with,” Henrik said. “Jackie put together a schedule for you for today.”

Chase silently looked at the words. He blinked. Then squinted. Then looked back up at Henrik. “Um...I’m sorry, but I...can’t read this.”

Henrik didn’t even have a response for that. “You...cannot read?”

“I can, but only a little,” Chase admitted. “I know the alphabet and numbers, but as for words, I can read what I’m familiar with. Food, animal names, archery gear. Things like that.” He trailed off into a mumble, somehow embarrassed. Reading had never been an issue before. Everyone in town knew enough to get by. But now, he wondered...was that not normal?

“That’s okay,” Henrik said, picking up on Chase’s tone. “Jackie was the same way. We had to teach him.” He chuckled a bit at the memory. “I will explain, then. After breakfast, you will meet with Nemet in the infirmary, she will give you a basic medicine check. To see what you know and fill you in on anything you need. Then you will head down to the tip of the tail, and meet a man there called Tripp. I understand you do not know that much about magic, so he will give you an overview. Then there will be lunch, and then you will head to the combat field to start training with Holly and Lukas.”

Chase started. “What was that last name?”

“Lukas,” Henrik repeated. “You will probably be working with him more, since you seem inclined with bows, and not closer combat.”

“Right.” Chase nodded. That name sounded familiar, like he’d heard it recently...

“Then come back for dinner, and I will check up on you,” Henrik continued. “And by then, hopefully you will know what you want to do most in the group. Medicine, organization, and such. And we will get you a temporary mask.”

“So, why masks?” Chase asked. “I like the idea, but...why? Who came up with it?”

“Oh, the mask concept was Jackie’s idea, but the animal part was added by—by someone else,” Henrik said. There was an odd pause there...was he going to say something else? A name, perhaps? “We wear masks so people will not recognize us. Many of us have friends and family who would be at risk if the King’s people knew we were working against him. Like, for me. You know I am a traveling doctor, yes? Well, when I met you last year, I was already working with the Phantoms. Can you imagine what would happen if someone recognized me as a rebel?”

Chase shivered. “Yea, I can.” If the King was willing to burn down the mountain villages for an unknown reason, what would he do to find one of the rebels? With that thought in mind, he slowly stood up. “So...I’ll get started, then. Meeting with all these strangers.”

“Do not be nervous, Chase,” Henrik said gently. “Everyone new we find has to go through something like this. And these are some of our best people.”

“Thanks,” Chase said. “That’s good to know.” Still, his stomach was slowly tying itself in knots as he headed towards the cooking fires, about to start the day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a quick breakfast of toasted bread—light, but with those stomach knots, still hard to get through—Chase headed up the gentle slope towards the infirmary cave in the rock wall. Slipping through the flap in the canvas, he found it unchanged from the day before, when he’d been discharged. Nobody was inside, except for...

“Ibis?” Chase asked.

“Hello, Chase.” Ibis smiled at him. Her mask was off, revealing her features and round, dark eyes for the first time. “It’s good to see you again. And please, my name is Nemet.”

“Oh! Oh, I’m supposed to meet with you.” That explained why she was standing near the entrance, she was waiting for him.

“Yes, yes.” Nemet nodded. “Henrik has told me to give you a basics in medicine.” She turned and headed towards the back, indicating he should follow. “Come, come. This shouldn’t take too long.”

Nemet had set three chests on top of each other, making a sort of rough chest-height table. On top of the flat surface of the chest-table were a series of bottles and bags, each one neatly labeled. “Here. These are some of our common tonics and medicines we use here. Tell me what you recognize.”

Chase considered the layout before him. There were probably about thirty in total, if he had to guess. “This is for colds, right? And fevers? And this one, too. And these dried leaves, they’re for nausea. Oh, and this will put you to sleep if you put it in water or stew. This is a salve, also for fevers. And this is a balm for sores. And this will stop infection on cuts and scrapes. And...that’s what I know.”

“Impressive,” Nemet nodded.

“Really? That’s only a fraction of the total,” Chase said doubtfully.

“Most people who join up only know redleaf, bainruish, and seedbane.” Nemet indicated each medicine as she listed them. “Fevers, cuts, and...well, I’m sure you know what seedbane is for, even if you said nothing. You are married, after all.” She laughed as Chase slowly turned red. “Ah, my apologies. The point is, you are ahead of most others.”

“Do we really need all of these?” Chase asked, quickly moving on.

“Oh, yes. You know that when people gather together that sicknesses spread easily. Many of these will help to cure a specific disease, while others are a general tonic, like redleaf.” Nemet paused, then picked up about ten of the medicines and put them on the floor. “Henrik says you are not so much caught up on magic, so we will leave these ones out of our discussion for now.”

Chase started at that. The concept of mixing medicine with magic made him...uneasy. He may not know that much about magic, but he knew it could be dangerous. “I was wondering, Nemet, what did you do before you joined the Phantoms? I know Henrik’s a traveling doctor, are you the same?”

“Not exactly.” Nemet shrugged. “I was a student of medicine back home.”

“And where was that?”

“A land called Kha’Nyphthis.” Nemet grinned a bit at Chase’s confused expression. “You would not have heard of it. It is to the south, on another continent, but not the same continent as Henrik’s Alterde. We have great schools and libraries there, the best in the world. I was learning to become a doctor, and had almost finished my schooling, but one of the final requirements was to learn the medicine of another land. I chose here, Glasúil, because you are well-known for your medicine. But then I arrived, and saw the state of things, and...ah, well.” Her expression fell for a moment.

“I’m...sorry,” Chase said awkwardly. “Do you...ever think about going back?”

Nemet nodded briefly. “Of course. I have family, friends. But I cannot just abandon things. It’s not in my nature to leave things unsettled.” She took a deep breath, and moved on. “But as for your basics in medicine, let me start by getting you familiar with the ones you didn’t know.”

It was a while later before Chase left the infirmary, his head feeling stuffed with all the new information Nemet had drilled into him. Already, some of it was starting to slip away. And he immediately knew that he could never be a doctor. If these were the basics, he couldn’t even begin to think about what would be required to complete the training to become one.

But he didn’t have time to let all that new knowledge sink in. Judging by the sun’s position, it was getting close to noon, and to lunch. He still had to meet up with someone else before it was time to eat. So he hurried onward, running along the curve of the dragon’s bones, following them as they got smaller and smaller, until they eventually merged into the packed ground. Chase slowed to a stop and looked around, confused. This was the end of the tail, wasn’t it? So...where was—

“Hey you’re the new one, right?”

Chase yelped and spun around. A man was sitting between the spine bones of the dragon, almost unnoticeable in the shadow between them. “Yeah, that’s me,” he said slowly. “Are you, uh...Tripp?”

The man nodded, hopped to his feet, and walked over to Chase. Standing up, he was short, even shorter than Jackie. He wore a dark brown cloak that reached his knees, and of course, a mask. This one was shaped like a ram’s head, complete with curved horns, and the black symbol on the forehead was actually four different symbols arranged in a diamond formation. After a moment of looking at them, Chase realized they were the suits often used on playing cards. How...odd. The man reached up and took off the mask, ruffling his golden brown hair and revealing dark eyes. “Tripp, son of Seamus,” he said shortly. “And you are...?”

“Chase. Son of Brody,” Chase said automatically. “Henrik told you I was—”

“You’re not up-and-up on magic and need a course, yea,” Tripp interrupted, swinging his mask around his finger. Chase took a step back despite already being far away. If that went flying, those plaster horns would do some damage. “And he asked me to do it ‘cause I’m our second best guy.”

“You’re the—?”

“What do you know already, Brodyson?” Tripp continued. “Ever met a magic-wielder?”

“There were a handful in town—”

“Sorcerer, wizard, enchanter, oracle, witch?”

“I...what?” Chase blinked. “I...think they were all sorcerers.”

“How many?”

“Only a handful, about six or seven?”

“For a village of four hundred or so people?” Tripp laughed. “Everyone must’ve been magically impotent.”

“Could you slow down?!” Chase snapped. “I thought you were supposed to teach me about magic, not make fun of me for not knowing anything!”

Tripp paused. Then grinned. “It’s just banter, Brodyson. I didn’t mean offense. But hey, you called me out. Good on you for that. My apologies.” His grin faded. “But I’m not jokin’ about that. There should’ve been at least four times that number of magic-wielders in a town that size. What happened? Were the seekers bein’ lazy for the past few years?”

“...Seekers?” Chase repeated, puzzled.

Tripp looked up at the sky. “Oh, elders. They haven’t been showin’ up at all, have they? If you don’t even know about them—alright, we’ll start from the beginning, then.” He sat down on the ground, folding his legs under him. Slowly, Chase sat down across from him. “You know of the five branches, right? I’m pretty sure everyone in the world’s at least heard their names.”

“Yes,” Chase said, nodding. Wizards, sorcerers, enchanters, oracles, and witches. He mostly heard about them in stories, and was especially fuzzy on the details about those last three.

“A common mistake people make is thinkin’ these are all different things.” Tripp started drawing in the dirt with his finger. “When really, all magic is the same. It’s like a tree—just because each branch might look different, doesn’t mean they don’t all come from the same trunk.” And, in keeping with that metaphor, he drew a rough outline of a tree with five different branches. “All magics can work with each other, and there’s a lot of similarities in between them. For example, do you know the difference between wizardry and sorcery? They’re the two most well-known of the branches.”

“Um...if I’m being honest, I’d always been under the impression that wizardry was more powerful,” Chase said tentatively.

Tripp snorted in disbelief. “Some wizards would like to think that. But no. More varied, yes. But not more powerful. Here, it’ll be easier if I go over them all one by one.” He started to draw symbols by each of the branches, starting with a crude stick figure. “Sorcery is the most common magic besides witchcraft. It crops up in people at random. If you got twenty-five people in a room together, one would probably be a sorcerer, even if they didn’t know it. Its source is inside the person themself. And what it does is manipulate the world. Like...this.”

He pressed a flat hand against the ground next to him. After a moment, the dirt started to move. Then suddenly, pillars of rock shot through the dirt, rising from underneath the surface. Chase gaped as the solid stone started to twist, winding around each other to form a braid of rock. Then Tripp removed his hand, and the rock froze, as if it had never been moving in the first place. For a moment, Chase was stunned, then he managed to ask, “S-so you’re a sorcerer, then?”

“Exactly,” Tripp grinned. “Why d’you look so surprised? You said you knew sorcerers before.”

“Well...yes, but I hadn’t...seen their magic too much,” Chase admitted. He remembered one time when Gwen, the weaver’s daughter, had pulled water out of the well. It just streamed out of the depths and sailed right into her bucket. But occasions like that were few and far between.

“Hmm.” Tripp scrunched his face up, thinking. “Well, besides that. Each branch of magic has its strengths and weaknesses. Sorcery’s strength is that it comes from within. As long as a sorcerer doesn’t drain too much energy, they can use their magic forever. And its weakness is that you need a material to manipulate. Like just now, I reached down and pulled rock up from underground. But there’s a limit to the range where your magic can affect things.”

Chase nodded. “What about wizardry, then?”

Tripp sketched a rough outline of a necklace next to another branch of the tree. “Its strength is its variety. Wizards aren’t limited by what things are present, they can conjure out of thin air. But its weakness is in this: the ‘focus.’” He tapped the necklace drawing. “Unlike sorcery, wizardry doesn’t come from within. Wizards are channelin’ it from outside, from the layer of magic that coats the world. But to do so, they need a specially-made thing called a focus. It’s usually a necklace, ‘cause that’s handy, but it can be any shape, as long as it’s made the right way. These dragon bones, for example. They’d be real good to make focuses with.” He knocked on the nearest bone. “About one in fifty people are able to channel wizardry.”

“And now we reach the end of my knowledge,” Chase mutters. “What’s the next most common?”

Tripp paused. “Enchantment.” The image he drew in the dirt now was a misshapen lump. “Damn. That’s supposed to be a brain.”

“Ah. Right. Because enchantment is the magic of the mind, isn’t it?” Chase recalled, casting his memories back to the stories he’d heard that included enchanters.

“Hmm. Yea.” Tripp pursed his lips. “How do I explain them...Well, strengths. They’re the only magic that can work with your mind. Illusions, talking in your head, things like that. But as for their weaknesses, enchanters can’t change the world for real.”

“Is it true that enchanters can control your actions?” Chase asked. “There’s a story, the Dark Damoen—”

“The crazy old man who made Erinthold worship him as a god? That’s a famous one.” Tripp nodded. “Well, it’s true. Some could change your thoughts and make you do things you wouldn’t. But that takes a lot of power, and besides, most enchanters are decent people, like all the rest of us. It’s just that we remember the bad ones because they shock us. And only about one in a hundred people are enchanters, anyway. Don’t worry about it. There are a few Masked Phantoms who are enchanters.”

Chase nodded slowly. The thought of the old story sent shivers down his back, but he should probably trust the magic-wielder. He clearly knew more “What about...the oracles?”

Tripp drew a symbol of an eye in the dirt. “Those are the rarest one. You only get an oracle one in a thousand, if you’re lucky, and they’re not usually that powerful. You’ve probably heard that they issue prophecies of what’s to come, or that they might even be able to manipulate time itself. Well that’s all bullshit.”

“Wh—” Chase was so surprised at the frankness that he choked on his own gasp. After a few moments of coughing, he continued in a hoarse voice. “What do you mean?”

“Oracles can’t manipulate time, that’s the most insane rumor goin’ round about magic there ever was,” Tripp stated. “They get visions of what’s most likely to happen. It’s not for sure, and really, most oracles are wrong. But huge strength there, knowing the most likely future. And it comes with a big weakness. A couple, actually. One, they have to speak their visions out loud while it’s happenin’. It’s a magic...what’s the word?” He snapped his fingers for a bit. “Compulsion. That’s it. They’re literally forced to do it, can’t stop that. And two, the visions are all they can do. They have no other magic. And because of that, some say that oracles are cursed, not gifted.”

Chase thought about that. If he had the choice, would he take knowing the future for being forced to share it? Maybe. Maybe if he knew what could happen next, he could stop terrible things. Like...his heart panged, and he shied away from the thought. No, that didn’t sound too bad. People would also know what the future held, what of it? He’d take that risk.

“And the last magic,” Tripp said, snapping Chase out of his thoughts. “Witchcraft. It’s actually the most common.”

“Really?” Chase said doubtfully.

“I bet you’re goin’ by the stories, where witches are old people that stay in shacks and give out potions,” Tripp said, drawing a bottle next to the final branch. “But really, the magic of witchcraft isn’t in people, like all the others. It’s in the land. It’s part of the world’s magic. Plants with strange properties, the parts of magical animals...these can be mixed together to create amazing effects. And anyone could learn how to do it. In fact, most of us here have.”

Chase suddenly remembered earlier, how Nemet had put away some of the medicines during their meeting. It was because he didn’t know much about magic...“Wait, you mean anyone could make potions? Become a witch?”

“Well, not anyone,” Tripp muttered. “If you have magic of your own, you can’t learn witchcraft. The knowledge just slips away, and if we try anyway, nothing works, even if it should. You can’t use more than one magic. It’d be like tryin’ to hold onto every single branch of a tree.”

“If the tree was small, though?” Chase joked.

“It’s not. The magic tree is big, and the branches are the type where you need to hold on with both hands,” Tripp said firmly.

“Oh. I...see.” Chase cleared his throat. Clearly, using more than one magic wasn’t something to make light of. It was too impossible. “And...what about those seekers you mentioned earlier?”

Tripp was eager to move on. “Seekers are wizards that can sense the presence of magic. What’s supposed to happen is that these seekers are supposed to stop by every town twice every year. In practice, that’s faded away. Most towns only see them once a year, and the farther away you get from Suilthair, the less often you’ll see them. My town where I grew up, they came by every three years. But if you don’t know what they are, then...have you ever seen them?”

At that, Chase had a vague memory of a group of strangers visiting Hilltown when he was a child. They were dressed finely, and the image of an elaborate brooch one of them was wearing flashed in his mind. The next day, Hanson, an old friend of his, announced to all the kids that he was going away for ‘special school.’ “Not in years. Long enough for me to forget what they are.”

Tripp huffed. “I bet it’s not worth the effort to come all the way up here. Bunch of nambies.” He rolled his eyes. “Seekers are employed by the royal family. They find young magic-wielders and offer to give them schoolin’, to learn how to use their magic. Schoolin’ that’s funded by the crowns. It’s not required—I never went—but it’s encouraged. Otherwise you might end up having magic shootin’ out of your—”

“Is that why most wizards side with the King?” Chase asked, remembering what Henrik said about the source of the village fire.

“Part of it. But wizards especially have a reason to keep on the King’s good side.” Tripp paused. “Those focuses I told you ‘bout, that wizards need to use their magic? The crowns fund the makin’ of those, too. And the sellin’. And everything about them.”

“Oh.” Chase’s eyes widened with realization. “So...if a wizard decided to oppose the King, then there’s a chance that...they wouldn’t have access to a focus anymore? And...their magic?”

Tripp nodded. “That’s why most of us magic-wielders in the Phantoms are sorcerers and a few enchanters.”

“No oracles?”

“Oh, elders, no. You heard how hard they are to find. Wish we had some, though. That’d be helpful.” Tripp stretched his arms, then stood up. “Anyway, that’s all I have to say. You got it all?”

“I think so, yes,” Chase said slowly. He looked up to the sky, mentally reviewing everything he’d heard. Sorcery, wizardry, enchantment, oraclulary, and witchcraft. All very different, all with things they could do and limitations that slowed them down. That made sense. He nodded to himself...and then noticed the position of the sun. “Shit!” Chase shot to his feet. “It’s noon! I have—after lunch, I—”

“More meetings, huh?” Tripp raised an eyebrow, then pulled his ram mask back on. “Let me guess...Lukas and Holly? Better hurry, Brodyson. Not good to be late for those two.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chase swung by the cooking fires to grab some food, then hurried over to the combat fields, along the dragon’s wings. Originally, he wondered if the wing bones would get it the way, but apparently the dragon had died with its wings spread out as far as they could be, leaving ample room in between the bones. The packed dirt was lined with targets, crude dummies made of sacks of hay tied to sticks, and racks of wooden training weapons. Occasionally there were random chests or tents set up to create obstacles to fight around. As he ran out onto the fields, he passed many people, some sparring in groups, others practicing on their own. None of them paid him any mind.

Now that he was here, he wasn’t sure where to go. The fields took up all of the space cleared by the wings, which was, as it turned out, quite a lot. Maybe he should have asked Henrik for descriptions of the people he’d be meeting with. Feeling his nerves eating away at his stomach, he turned to the nearest person, and asked, quietly, “Excuse me, I’m looking for Lukas and Holly?”

The person turned around, looked down at him, and smiled. “Oh, it’s you! You’re the new one!”

“Um...yes,” Chase said slowly. It was just now occurring to him how...big this person was—this woman was, actually, judging by her voice. She towered over him, and her sleeveless tunic showed off the muscles of her tattooed arms. Strange to be wearing no sleeves in the chill mountain air, but she probably wasn’t bothered.

“I’m Holly.” Her smile widened. “Daughter of Rose.”

“Oh!” Chase blinked. That name didn’t fit her at all. But alright, he wasn’t one to say anything. “Chase, son of Brody.”

“Lovely to meet you.” Holly grabbed his hand and vigorously shook it. She wasn’t wearing her mask, but it hung around her neck. A bear. And the symbol on its forehead was the same as the one on Jackie’s wolf mask: a circle with two dots inside. “Me and Lukas, we’re in charge of combat up in Wyvernlair. Speaking of which...” She turned around. “Luke! He’s here!”

Chase leaned around Holly to look at who she was addressing...and suddenly felt cold, despite his jacket. Now he remembered where he heard that name before. While he’d been sick with the shivering in the infirmary, he’d overheard a conversation between Jackie and a man in a fox mask. That man had wanted to throw him out of camp, but Jackie had refused...and now, Chase was staring at that very same man.

“I can see that,” Lukas said shortly. He was facing a series of targets, and didn’t turn to look at Holly and Chase. Instead he merely took another arrow from a quiver on his back, nocked it on his bow, and shot. The arrow flew straight into the center of the farthest target, which was barely the size of a hand spread wide.

“No you can’t, you didn’t even look!” Holly scowled, and turned back around. “Sorry about him, Chase. He’s been snippy.”

“Well I wouldn’t be snippy if I hadn’t been standing out here for an hour, waiting for someone who didn’t bother to show up on time,” Lukas snapped.

“I’m not an hour late,” Chase protested weakly. Even behind the fox mask, Lukas’s expression was twisted with frustration and annoyance.

“It’s a matter of principle,” Lukas said, finally turning to face Chase. When he did, Chase noticed the symbol on his mask for the first time: an X, with a dot to either side.

“Let’s just get into it,” Holly said, folding her arms. “Now, Chase. You’re a hunter, yes? So you have some experience with shortbows.”

“I can shoot, yes,” Chase agreed. “But I’ve never heard the term ‘shortbow’ before.” Lukas rolled his eyes, a motion that was partially hidden by the mask but still visible enough for Chase to catch.

“It means a smaller bow, in comparison to Lukas’s massive beast of a longbow over there.” Holly gestured towards Lukas’s bow; it was almost as tall as him. “Shortbows are better for mobility and closer range, while longbows are more suited for staying stationary and shooting long distances.”

“Ah.” Chase nodded. That made sense; bigger bows were more powerful, but also harder to draw back and move around. Amabel once tried to shoot Chase’s own bow when she was seven, and couldn’t pull the string even a little.

“I’m assuming you’re a fairly good shot,” Holly said, rubbing her chin. “So you’ll probably need to work with me more. I’m in charge of close-range combat, while Lukas handles the long range, with bows. So if we’re to—”

“Hold on a moment, Holly,” Lukas interrupted. “I want to see what he can do.”

Holly shot Lukas a dirty look. “There’s no need—”

“Of course there is. We should know what our starting point is.” Lukas turned and walked towards a nearby weapons rack, picking out a smaller shortbow and a quiver of matching arrows. He headed back to the others and thrust the tools at Chase. “Show me how well you hunt.”

“...alright. I will.” Chase took the bow and quiver slowly. He didn’t like being tested, especially not when the test was proposed by a man who clearly thought he was some sort of spy for the King and might be looking for an excuse to kick him out. Should he pretend to be worse than he actually was? No, that would just be complicated. He’d shoot normally.

He stepped up to the place Lukas had been standing, facing the targets, and strapped the quiver onto his back. For a moment, he examined the bow. Solidly built. Looked newer than the one he used back home. And had these odd curves...was this a recurve model? He’d heard of them, but never used one before.

“Soon, please!” Lukas called.

Holly promptly hit him on the back of the head. “Take your time, Chase! Don’t worry!”

Chase nodded. His mouth was suddenly very dry. But he swallowed his nerves, adjusted his stance, and nocked an arrow. He hit it against the back of his head in the process of taking it out of the quiver—not being used to wearing it on his back—and glanced back at the two watching to gauge their reactions. Holly looked supportive, but Lukas was unreadable. He looked away again.

There were ten arrows in the quiver and ten targets set up in front of him. He must need to hit all of them. So he drew back, aimed, and let loose the arrow.

Ten arrows.

Five of them hit the closest targets. Two of those hit their target’s center.

One hit the edge of one of the farther targets.

The remaining four missed.

Feeling a sinking feeling in his stomach, he turned back to Holly and Lukas.

“Wow. That was the most utterly average thing I’ve ever seen,” Lukas said bluntly.

“You hit more than I can!” Holly said positively, giving him a short round of applause. “That’s great!”

Chase nodded silently. “I...I’m not used to this bow.”

Lukas hummed. He went to collect the arrows, giving Chase a side-eyed look as he walked past. It seemed as though his suspicions hadn’t been assuaged. If anything, he looked even more wary.

Holly walked up to Chase and clapped a hand on his shoulder. Chase promptly lost his balance from the force of the contact, and Holly helped him right himself. “Sorry about that,” she said. “And sorry about Lukas. He’s just...he has a hard time trusting people. I’m sure you’ll win him over.”

“It’s fine,” Chase said distantly. “I mean, not everyone’s going to immediately welcome someone new into a group like this. You need to keep secret. There are risks.” Still, Lukas’s distrust, combined with his mediocre shooting skills, left him feeling a bit down. Like a cloud passing over the sun, everything just seemed...disappointing.

Lukas returned, arrows in hand. “Do it again,” he said.

“Elders and Sisters, Luke, we don’t have all day,” Holly protested.

“He needs to practice,” Lukas said, stone-faced.

“He needs to start with me! You can’t handle all your problems from a distance, especially in our situation. What’s he to do if a King’s man jumps him from behind and all he has are arrows?”

“It’s fine,” Chase repeated. He rubbed his arm; they hadn’t given him an arm guard, and despite the jacket fabric, his skin still stung from the bow string. “We have until dinner.”

Holly gave him a look, but sighed and stepped back. “One hour of shooting, then it’s my turn.”

Lukas nodded. “Deal.”

Chase sighed a bit, and took the arrows from Lukas. It was turning out to be a long day.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #jacksepticeye au #septic egos #septic egos au #chase brody #dr schneeplestein #jackieboy man #brigid writes fanfiction #fantasymasksau

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vampiresuns · 3 years

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Cassano Arianamenzi | The First Of The Cassano

picrew credit

Cassano Arianamenzi: The clever Court Archivist who would become Consul

I have mentioned in a couple of places, but particularly in this post, that the Cassano (and the Radošević-Cassano by extension) aren’t nobles, and they only ended up with the Consulship through a scheme, and no one quite knows how they did it.

Well, that’s not entirely true. This is Cassano Arianamenzi, the woman who would change the history of the Vesuvian Consulship forever.

Name: Cassano Gizem Arianamenzi.

Meaning of the name: ‘Cassano’ is the name of a series of towns, while ‘Gizem’ means ‘mystery’ in Turkish.

Nicknames: Cas, Ari, Arianamenzi

Family: She is the eldest of five children, and the daughter of a Philosopher who earned a Court Position as a scholar (Father) and an artisan who made instruments (Mother). They had her while fairly young so she was raised by her grandparents and great aunts for a portion of her life. This never brought her problems with her parents, who were very present, but taught her the importance of community. The Arianamenzi all raised their children that way and lived in a multi-generational household.

They lived in the edge between Goldgrave and Centre City. They were never particularly well off, though they had enough. All of her siblings studied through apprenticeships, and she did so on a scholarship on the account of being the daughter of her father. She often said rich people and aristocrats mistake education for class (for a reason), but once they learnt you had had an education without being like them, they suddenly praised you through romanticising your position in life, thinking anyone who wasn’t like them must’ve starved to be able to spell their names, because naturally everyone who wasn’t like them was stupid.

Clearly, these people got on her nerves.

Their siblings were: Riparte (she/her), Flavius (they/she), Eziz (he/him) and Nora (he him).

Favourite Food: Spicy Mussel stew.

Favourite Drink: Kvass

Favourite Flower: Cherry Blossoms

Birthday: September 7th

Age: 37 for the relevant events in her timeline, but she was born 377 years before the events of the game.

Zodiac: Virgo sun, Aquarius Moon, Aries Rising

Patron Arcana: The Devil (always reversed) and the Page of Pentacles

Devil, Reserved: freedom, release, restoring control.

Upright: ambition, desire, diligence; Reversed: lack of commitment, greediness, laziness

Pronouns: She/Her

Languages Spoken: Vesuvian (common tongue and old dialect),Firentian, Prakran, Galbradan Bulani.

Magic: Language magic and language manipulation — she can tell the intention and honesty of people through their words, both spoken and written. She is able to perform different kinds of incantation, manipulate glyphs, and temporary and limited alteration of the world around her through words.

Being a ‘language manipulator’ is one of the few magical traits the Cassano possess. She wasn’t the first language manipulator in her family, and the Arianamenzi don’t know who was, nor they care. It skips generations, however.

There’s a couple of them between her and the current generation of the R-C, but the last language manipulators of the Cassano have been Vitale Cassano, Consul of Vesuvia, Aelius Anatole Radošević and Artemisia Cassano.

Familiar: A mongoose (Egyptian mongoose) called Pearl.

Song: Centuries, Fall Out Boy

The Poison Plot of The Vesuvian Court & Facts about Cas Arianamenzi.

Cassano began working as an archivist, handling the paperwork of the Court and the Consul, when she was 27. By the time she was 33 she was working directly with the Consul, though she mostly worked in the archives department, and the old Palace’s library. A year after she landed the position the Poison Plot began.

In the span of three years, three Consuls and two temporary placeholders were poisoned in the Vesuvian Court, as well as five other officials and a diplomatic envoy.

Cassano had began putting the pieces together on her own, mostly thanks to her magic and her job as an archivist, but she was able to win a new perspective on this when the Count of the time, a magician named Sibona, began venting to her, trying to escape both the Vesuvian summer and late spring heat, and her Court.

After the last of murdered Consuls was poisoned, Sibona, who had already figured out Cassano was also a magician, asked her why didn’t she solve it. If she did, Sibona would make her the Consul.

Cassano declined originally, telling she had no Courtly aspirations nor wished to end up dead, but eventually agreed. Count Sibona realised she knew more about politics than what she gave away, and decided to trust her gut about her.

She wasn’t wrong. Cassano was able to solve the plot and restructure some of the Court functioning, including the basic functioning of the Consulship as related to the City and working with a seven people integrated council (which you can read about here).

One of the reasons she was able to solve it was because Aristocrats dismissed her for not being one of them. Court Archivists and Court Staff were seen as invisible and she took advantage of it, as she did of her magic.

The Palazzo, however, wasn’t endowed to her. It belonged to the one of the murdered Consul’s who had no open succession. Whether Sibona let her get away with manipulating who it would pass to, or she never realised, Cassano didn’t know, but given how her magic worked, it was extremely hard to prove she had forged anything to begin with.

That Consul didn’t really use the building. Up to her, the Consuls lived in the Palace with the Count. She refused this because she couldn’t leave her family alone. Her family and friends were also the reason why she tried to procure the Palazzo in the first place. It was less about the status symbol and more about “these goddamn Aristocrats have entire empty buildings and for what, for fucking what.” She was able to safely house her entire extended family along with more than one friend.

She is the entire reason why the Cassano have the tradition of having the Palazzo opened to the people — the Arianamenzi realised that with this building, they could now help their community in an even bigger scale. While she “inherited” (aka took as a squatter) the Palazzo with everything in it, most of the collections have been donations from friends. The space is supposed to be communally kept. A lot of the paintings in it, and some of the oldest murals are there because she gave the opportunity to friends of her family by commissioning them, so she could show rich people their work.

They did try to poison her. She was able to anticipate it through her scheming and was, in fact, waiting for it, to the point she contacted one of her friends, an alchemist who was an expert in poisons from South End, to help her with a preventive antidote.

Most of it was to show Aristocrats what a little fraternity between people can do.

She firmly believed she had more in common with people in the street than the rest of the Court. A lot of what she believed and how she carried herself as the Consul is the origin of a lot of ways to be that the Radošević-Cassano as a family now have. She is also responsible for the saying “nothing mortal can kill a Cassano” (because the poison didn’t kill her).

When asked about how rulers should be, this was her reply: “A ruler shouldn’t be feared, nor loved. A ruler should be competent. Discussions of punishment or morality only detract a ruler from their one true command: to do their goddamned job.”

Count Sibona liked her because she thought Cas was weird.

It wasn’t Cassano who came up with the Consul ascension ceremony, it was Count Sibona who most likely came up with it to be a shit about Cassano taking an entire Palazzo without asking.

Her wife’s name was Caterina.

Because I believe Arcanaverse rapiers to be an invention of at least 150 years after she was alive, her sword was not a rapier. She learnt while she was studying and apprenticing under a scholar because she was bored.

She wrote two books in her lifetime: a book about political philosophy, and a book in the old Vesuvian Dialect about the origins, secrets and magic of Vesuvia. It is not, however, a history book. Instead is mostly about language magic and Cassano’s own theories about how to interject with the magic of the Canals if needed. It also has the knowledge passed down from Count to Count, because the Consul has always been supposed to be privy of it, because the Consul has always been supposed to rule in absence or incapacitation of the Count or their heirs.

This book has never left the hands of the Cassano family, except for a brief period during the life of Vitale Cassano (Anatole’s great great grandfather). In the Janiverse (@apprenticealec‘s and my Arcanaverses combined) the book is stolen by the Scholars of the Sea Palace, but Amparo Mediavilla, wife of Vitale intercepts the middle man before it’s too late. In my regular Arcanaverse, it is taken for similar reasons, and Amparo still retrieves it.

Count Sibona also described her as a mongoose with the skin of a woman.

Her name became a surname with her brother Nora (the youngest), who takes after her as the Consul for around ten years before a niece replaces him. Nora introduced himself as “Nora, Brother of Cassano” which got constricted to Nora Cassano. Kin of Cassano was also very normal to refer to both her family and friends by Aristocrats so it stuck

#the arcana #the arcana oc #the arcana worldbuilding #my writing #cassano arianamenzi #the radosevic-cassano

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papermoonloveslucy · 3 years

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REMINISCING

August 14, 1977

By Frank Swertlow, Chicago Daily News

BEVERLY HILLS - During the first years of television, Ed Wynn, the radio and stage comic, was trying to break into television with a half-hour comedy on CBS. (1)

One night, he invited a couple of second echelon performers to make an appearance: a comedienne, known as "Technicolor Tessie" for her blazing red hair, and a song-and-dance man, best remembered for hollering "babalu."

Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz were the couple, and they, like Wynn, were sampling the waters of the new medium. CBS had asked Miss Ball and her conga-drum pounding husband to develop a comedy show for television. Later, after months of thought and testing their ideas on the vaudeville circuit, the couple came up with "I Love Lucy," the misadventures of Lucy and Ricky Riccardo. (2)

It made its debut on CBS in October 1951. More than a quarter of a century afterwards, "I Love Lucy" easily can vie for the honor of television's most successful show. It was the archtype [sp] domestic comedy, the bumbling husband and his daffy wife. It gave birth to two other Lucy shows, a host of specials and a giant production company, Desilu.

"We spent months thinking about what we should do," Miss Ball recalled. "We didn't want to be the average Hollywood couple. Nobody would think you had any problems if you had a car and swimming pool and a nice house.

"Ultimately, we wanted a show in which people could identify with us. Everybody could understand what it was like to struggle for a buck. I was an ordinary, everyday, middle class housewife. I wore the same dress often. My husband worked and tolerated my mistakes. It was something that everyone could identify with."

With the debut of the TV series, Lucille Ball, the former Goldwyn girl who started her film career in the 1930s, had a new career.

"I never expected the show to go more than a year," said Miss Ball. "I wanted to do the show on film so I could use them as home movies. Who knew about television then? It was a no-no to do TV work. The movie studios were against it."

To Miss Ball, who was not a new face to the public, the impact of her show was incredible. "We went to New York on a trip once and we were unprepared for what happened. People rushed up and wanted to touch you. They knew you, and called you by your first name. I had been in pictures for years, and most of the time I was never identified."

If the movers and shakers of the film industry who gave Miss Ball her start during the 1930s were alive, they would have been shocked. To them, simply and kindly, Lucille Ball was a B-movie queen, one of the many second-line actresses who never attained star billing, but who was an important ingredient to the motion picture industry.

Unlike many performers who labored under the cruel studio system, Miss Ball fondly remembered her early years in Hollywood. "It was nice to be under the umbrella of a studio. You always had a poppa. I loved it. I loved being part of the business. I would have swept floors just to be in it."

Miss Ball, however, did not forget the tactics of the brutal and disgusting lords of movieland. Harry "King" Cohn, the ruler of Columbia Pictures, stood out. "He made the biggest dent in everybody. He was ruthless. He always had to take a devious route." (3)

Miss Ball, who is not exactly a pushover, laughingly recalled the time she outwitted the sly Cohn.

Miss Ball had received an offer to work in a Cecil B. DeMille film, but Cohn refused to loan her to the producer. He was being mean. Then, Cohn decided to drop her contract. To do it, he sent the actress a horrible script something that the trade called a lease breaker. "Oh, everybody was dying to play opposite John Agar and Raymond Burr," she recalled jokingly. "I was going to be a harum [sp] girl." Naturally, Cohn expected her to refuse and it would be the end of her contract. (4)

The savvy Miss Ball decided to do the film and collect her check. When she made this announcement there was an uproar. She coyly told her bosses: "Oh, I want to do the film. It's a wonderful film."

Meanwhile, Miss Ball, who had been trying to get pregnant for years, found out she was going to have a baby. Now, she was in trouble. If Cohn found out, he would break her contract. "I only told my mother and my husband I was pregnant."

Keeping her lips sealed, she went ahead with Cohn's film. "The wardrobe girl kept looking at me in my harum [sp] girl costume and saying, 'What's wrong with you, you are getting so big.' "So, I told her, 'Don't worry, I ate a big meal last night. Just put a little more taffeta on my dress.' Well, I finished the film and I collected my $85,000."

"Then I had to go to Mr. DeMille and tell him I couldn't do his film. I was pregnant. 'What,' he said. And I replied. 'I'm going to have a baby. 'Get rid of it,' he said. And he was serious.' She declined. (5)

While Miss Ball's career as a TV star is secure (she still has a contract with CBS) (6) she is not so certain about the state of the industry. Today, unlike when she started on the air, shows are yanked off the screen within a couple of weeks. This, she said, destroys performers.

"If a show is canceled, the actor takes the blame. He or she suffers for it. They suffer inside. The rejection - they failed. (7)

"I would fail. You can't protect yourself. It's out of your hands. It's always Lucy failed or Rhoda failed or Farrah Sauset Fawcett Sauset, whatever her name is, failed. It's rough." (8)

Even so, Lucille Ball, the red-haired girl from Jamestown, N.Y., would still be on top.

# # #

FOOTNOTES FROM THE FUTURE

(1) Ed Wynn (1886-1966) was a vaudevillian who hosted “The Ed Wynn Show” on television from 1949 to 1950. Lucy and Desi guest-starred on the show.

(2) ‘Riccardo’ is probably a misspelling of ‘Ricardo’, but it was also the way their surname was spelled on “I Love Lucy” in early episodes!

(3) Harry Cohn (1891-1958) was a much-despised executive at Columbia Studios. Lucille Ball once facetiously told Louella Parsons that she liked Harry Cohn too much to ever sign a contract with him. What Lucille meant is that Cohn had a reputation for being difficult. Despite that fact, a casting draught forced her to sign with Columbia in 1949.

(4) Lucille Ball had often complained to Cohn about the quality of the pictures she had been doing at Columbia. At the time The Magic Carpet was made, Ball was only obligated to Columbia for one more film, and Cohn had producer Sam Katzman, who turned out most of Columbia's low-budget "B" pictures, concoct a cheap Arabian Nights fantasy as a punishment to Ball for her constantly challenging him. More salacious writers insist that Cohn’s frustration with Ball was due to the fact that she would not submit to him sexually.

(5) The DeMille film in question was The Greatest Show on Earth, a movie set at the Ringling Brothers Barnum and Bailey circus. Lucille was set to play the elephant trainer, a role that went to Gloria Graham. It was a film Lucille really wanted to do - but she wanted a baby more. Later in life, Desilu created a TV version of the film. Lucille also guest-starred as the ringmaster on “Circus of the Stars II” in which Lucie Arnaz was featured as.... the elephant trainer!

(6) Lucille Ball had started working at CBS on radio and was considered their premiere star. In 1980, after her television shows had ended, she signed with NBC, a partnership that yielded very little except that Ball was obliged to appear on Bob Hope’s many specials, something she frequently did anyway. Both CBS and NBC declined her final series “Life With Lucy” which producer Aaron Spelling finally convinced ABC to air.

(7) Although this article was written ten years before “Life With Lucy”, Lucille could very well be describing her own devastation when the series was cancelled even before all the initial episodes aired. She was widely criticized and the series often turned up on “worst show” lists.

(8) Rhoda refers to a character on “The Mary Tyler Moore Show” that was played by Valerie Harper, a performer that appeared on Broadway with Lucille. In 1974, the character was spun off into its own eponymous sitcom which aired for four seasons.

Farrah Fawcett-Majors was a beautiful blonde actress and poster girl that burst onto the TV scene in the mid-1970s. A year after this interview, she was in the hit series “Charlie’s Angels” entering American iconography for her feathered hair and curvaceous figure the same way Betty Grable had in the 1940s.

#Lucille Ball #Valerie Harper #Harry Cohn #Farrah Fawcett #The Greatest Show on Earth #Life With Lucy #Cecil B. DeMille #The Magic Carpet #Lucie Arnaz #Gloria Graham #Desi Arnaz #Ed Wynn #1977 #Frank Swertlow

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fanfics-with-coffee · 4 years

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Crybaby memories Ch.1

First chapter of a little something I’m working on. Just wanna get this out to feel out the waters a little so I hope you guys enjoy!

Updated as of 21/1/2021 because I didn’t like the old version.

Y/n finally returns to Japan after 10 years to finish her last year of the hero course at UA. But what she didn’t realize was that she would have to meet her old childhood friends and face her past, something she had left in Japan. And can Bakugou really make up for the mistake he regrets the most? Or maybe you’d do best to just forget about the explosive blonde.

Genre: Some angst and maybe fluff? Pairing: Bakugou x reader Words: 2500~ Childhood friends AU

-> Ch.2

“It’s y/l/naaaame, y/n y/l/n!” She put extra emphasis on her surname when she spoke, trying her best to make it easy for the boy in front of her to mimic her. He frowned a little, clearly trying to figure out how he should approach the word in his head before he spoke.

“y-y/l/n…” He tried again, carefully watching the girls face and noticing that he once again botched her name. She had pursed her lips, watching his face as she racked her brain to find another way to solve this problem. He felt his face heat up at the embarrassment of messing up something so important. But as if a lightbulb appeared over her head, she suddenly perked up.

“Just call me y/n! That’s easier right?” She smiled brightly, the boy would’ve almost compared her to the sun itself if he’d been any better with words. The little girl leaned forward, placing her tiny hands on the playground dirt, expectantly waiting for him to say her name.

“Y-y/n?” He said, carefully and quietly. His face wasn’t just warm now, he was burning up but the girl didn’t seem to mind. She was much too excited to notice as she stood up, thinking they could do something much more fun than struggle with something so trivial.

“Exactly! Now you don’t have to worry about my last name anymore. I’m a genius!” She spoke and held out her hand to the boy, helping him to his feet. He stared at her, not quite sure what to say to someone so radiant. But as she turned to go find something for the two of them to do, he spoke up.

“Uh, well you can just call me Izuku then, instead of Midoriya I mean... t-that way it’s fair.”

The girl looked at him, surprised for only a second before that heroic smile returned and she nodded.

-♡-

“I’m name is y/l/n y/n, it's nice to meet you. I’m joining you guys for the last year of highschool, I hope to get along with you all!” Y/n smiled as she stood in front of the class, he back straight and her head held high.

She got a mumbling choir of greetings back, her eyes scanning the crowd as she took in her new classmates. The class of 3-A, her graduating class. It was almost surreal, even if she had realized early that the chance of her going to UA was slim after she moved away from Japan, here she was, 10 years later. After the class quieted down, the energy was still high and people almost buzzed with curiosity. The girl gave them a respectful bow before their teacher took over.

“Alright y/l/n, you can go ahead and take the empty seat over there. Our last lesson is just beginning.” Aizawa told her from behind his desk. She was somewhat thankful he cut her introduction short. As excited she was for being here, there was a certain nervousness growing in the back of her head. As soon as she got her acceptance letter and she saw which class she was going to join, she realized that she would be meeting some new faces but most importantly… some old ones.

Y/n made quick work of getting to her seat, walking past some of her classmates, and giving them each a small smile as a greeting. She hung her bag on her chair and sat down. Aizawa didn’t waste any time starting the lesson, leaving the students with little introduction to their new classmate. But people had a more difficult time focusing on what he was saying as people threw what they thought were sneaky glances towards the new girl. But it was hard not to notice the turning heads and curious looks she was getting. She just smiled, she was used to the attention. Everyone wondered who the new kid was, right?

Despite the people who kept looking at her, y/n had noticed someone else across the room. A certain boy whose green hair bobbed and bounced along with his head movements. She looked at him and wondered how she should approach him after class. Would he even remember her? It was a long time ago.

But before she could figure out how she should handle the situation, her eyes met deep green ones. None of them were prepared for it and as soon as they had met, they separated. But it had given her a better look at Izuku Midoriya’s face, one she didn’t dare take when she was in front of the class. Those chubby cheeks he had as a kid had slimmed to a much more masculine shape, he’d gotten more handsome than cute since last time she had seen him. But those freckles that always covered his cheeks were still there, reminding her of the little kid she used to know. She remembered how surprised he looked just now when their eyes met and almost laughed. He may look like a man but he was still that shy boy she knew.

Leaning her cheek on the palm of her hand, she smiled and went back to focusing on the lesson. All the while bright red eyes observed her from behind, seeing her new figure and face, all the while his own memories started to flood his mind.

After what felt like mere minutes passed, the lesson came to an end. And Aizawa spent little time wrapping it up and instead unceremoniously announced the lesson to be over and left the classroom. A chorus of chair legs scraping against the floor followed the sound of the door closing after the teacher. And within seconds, a group had formed around the ‘new girl’. She couldn’t say she was surprised but being surrounded so quickly had her looking around her, wide-eyed.

“Hey, it’s y/l/n, right?” A redheaded man spoke first, clearly taking the lead. He looked friendly with that big grin of his, his hand softly pressing again y/n’s desk while he leaned forward a bit. The only problem was that he had pronounced her name quite… differently to say the least.

“What, no? You pronounce it like y/l/n!” A girl whose skin was dyed pink filled the space beside the tall man, putting a hand on his shoulder as she looked at him like he was dumb, but in an affectionate and teasing way. All the while she had been even further from the actual surname. “Right?”

“Actually, I think she pronounced it y/l/n” Someone finally got close but she couldn��t see who. It had been one of the girls who had ended up further in the back, the only thing visible from the middle of the circle being her black hair.

Y/n was about to say something, explain that she didn’t really mind what they called her, but before she could get a word out someone had elbowed their way to the front of her desk. Her eyes lit up and she instinctively stood up at the sight of him.

“ Y/n!” He exclaimed, his eyes glowing with excitement as he nearly slammed his hands down on the desk. The girl matched his smile all the while she climbed around her desk and past the people around it.

“Izuku!” She didn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. The slightly taller male took a second to try and find an appropriate place to put his hands which was obvious to any onlooker. He settled for placing them on her upper back, pulling her closer and letting out a small, awkward laugh. But their good moods didn’t seem to rub off on the others around them as the room went quiet.

The two pulled away once they noticed the sudden silence, taking a step away from each other. It only took Midoriya a second to realize what the others were thinking and as he did, his face suddenly burned up from the embarrassment while his hands flew up in a defensive manner. It took y/n another second to catch on, at first confused by her friend's reaction. But then it hit her.

“I-is Midoriya dating the new girl?!” A blonde man with a dyed black streak of hair looked the most shocked from the situation, his face coated in a light blush from second-hand embarrassment. Midoriya looked at him and started stuttering out a defense.

“No! N-no, no, w-we’re really not! She’s just an old friend, like a really old friend? Childhood friend actually–” He was sweating bullets as he tried his best to explain the situation but the girl realized she’d have to cut the tension.

“It’s nothing like that! We’re old friends and he couldn’t really say my surname as a kid so… We just call each other by our first names. You guys can call me y/n too, I really don’t mind.” She gave them a sweet smile and it luckily managed to change the mood in the room to a more relaxed one as people realized they hadn’t just seen two lovers embrace for the first time in years. While away, y/n had totally forgotten about the intimacy that calling someone by their first name brought here in Japan.

“W-well alright everyone! Let’s give our new student some space, no one should be trapped by their desk like this!” A man with glasses managed to get into the tight-knit circle and signaled with his arm to give the girl some space. Everyone did as they were told, backing away and instead opting to find somewhere else to sit as they talked. It didn’t take long for people to find new places to sit, some by their desks, and others just stood in smaller groups, far enough to let the air waft through the room but close enough so no one would need to shout while talking.

“So, y/l– I mean y/n, you have to spill it, what’s your quirk?” That red-headed man spoke up again, showing off his sharp teeth when he spoke and crossed his arms over his chest while leaning on what could be assumed to be his own desk.

And so the interrogation started and y/n would have to spill everything. From where she came from to what she could do with her quirk and what her limits were. Her favorite bad movie even came up somewhere in there and she had been suspiciously quick at answering that one. But most importantly, everyone had introduced themselves. Well everyone but one.

But she already knew who he was.

Bakugou hadn’t made a move since the class ended, hadn’t said a word. Y/n had already noticed his presence and with it, an eerie feeling had overcome her. The blonde had just sat there, scrolling through his phone and never once looked up to her knowledge. It was way different than the loud-mouthed kid she had known and it made her uncomfortable. But it wasn’t like she could say anything, the last time they had spoken still replayed in her head whenever she stole a glance his way. She knew she couldn’t just keep acting like he didn’t exist for the rest of the year though, that was glaringly obvious.

You were going to be heroes, right?

“Hey y/n, you’re going to be living with us in the dorms, right? Why don’t we continue talking over there? I'm getting hungry…” Tsuyu tilted her head while she spoke, her tongue sticking out of her mouth like it tended to do. She got a quiet murmur of agreeing voices as people nodded along, they had to admit that they were getting hungry too. Even y/n smiled and nodded, jumping off the desk she had been sitting on as she grabbed her bag, getting ready to leave. Midoriya and Uraraka who had been close to her looked at each other before they went and grabbed their stuff themselves, continuing their quiet conversation about classes the next day.

Y/n was about to join them when a voice pulled her to a stop, a wave of something familiar washing over her.

“Oi shitty-hair, did you guys talk about what we were having for dinner or did that get lost in your pointless ramblings?” She didn’t need to look at who was talking, she already knew. The voice was different from what she remembered, it was much deeper and there was a hint of a growl coming from the back to his throat when he spoke. But it was Bakugou alright.

She stood with her back to the speaker, unsure of what to do. She was weighing her options and pursing her lips when Midoriya came back up to her again, worried.

“Hey y/n, we’re about to head out. You coming?” He asked, quietly and softly as to not startle the girl in thought. She looked up at him, surprised and he tried giving her a reassuring smile. At that moment she knew what she needed to do.

“In a second, you guys can go on ahead. I know where the dorm is, I just need to do something before going back.” She tried her best to give him a smile that would put him at ease but he wasn’t convinced. She didn’t even need to look at Bakugou for him to know what she was talking about. He shifted his gaze to behind her and watched the man, furrowing his brows before looking back at the girl in front of him. Meeting her big, bright eyes he let out a sigh and then smiled, giving her a nod.

“Alright. I’ll see you back at the dorm then, y/n.” He waited for a beat before speaking again. “Welcome back.”

Midoriya left the classroom along with some of the other students, throwing y/n one last glance before they went out the door. But she never noticed, having already turned around and taken the few steps it took for her to get to the designated desk. Kirishima was still occupying Bakugou’s time, talking about something she couldn't focus on deciphering.

As she took the last step, placing herself on the other side of the small table, Bakugou turned his head to look at her. He had seen someone moving in his peripheral but he didn’t expect to see her face so close so soon. Shock crossed his face for less than a second before the uncaring facade kicked in again and he turned to address Kirishima who hadn’t stopped talking.

“Alright, I got it, I’m not stupid.” He snapped, glaring at his friend which shut him up quickly. He looked puzzled as he hadn’t even told him what he wanted to say. But he only needed to give the girl a quick glance to realize why he had been so abruptly silenced. He didn’t need to be verbally told that there was tension between the two of them, he could practically see it.

“Uh, right, well I’ll just head over to the dorm with the others. I… assume I will see you guys later? Don’t be late or I can’t promise there’ll be any dinner left!” Kirishima adjusted the bag on his shoulder as he started to move towards the door. He looked to the girl and then back towards his friend, wondering what had happened between, what he thought was two strangers, that could set the mood this tense. But assuming he knew his friend well, he threw y/n a sympathetic look before leaving the room.

In the end, it was just the two of them. Bathing in the warm light of the setting sun, they cast tall shadows on the wall. The only thing separating the two was the male’s desk, clean and empty. Face to face for the first time in 10 years. It was weird, she thought. She had imagined this moment over and over again in her head. The moment she would explain to him just how… terrible he was. Just how much he had hurt her all those years ago. How stupid he was. How mean, evil, egocentric, narcissistic and idiotic he was. How he was a straight up villain to her.

Yet when she finally stood here with him, she felt no need.

“Hey.” She smiled at him, softly.

“... Hey.” He quietly mumbled back, trying to swallow the clump that was forming in his throat. He didn’t dare to actually look her in the eyes or he was sure that he’d sink through the floor.

“I just wanted to tell you… we don’t need to be friends.” She spoke with a lighthearted tone, clasping her hands behind her back. He finally looked up at her, surprised that she had continued in such a friendly tone. His raw, red eyes met hers and he felt his heart almost skip a beat. It was so stupid, the effect she had on him. No matter how much he tried to shove it down, ignore it, every time she did stuff like this he melted. But this time, it wasn’t the same. His heart twisted in his chest at her words, not that he let that show. “But I don’t want to feel like we can’t even talk. We’re about to be heroes right? And communication is important, or something like that.”

“Something like that…” He muttered and pulled his eyes away from hers, looking to his empty desk again while putting his hands in his pockets.

“And all that stuff happened is in the past, so let’s just... forget it happened. Like I said, we don’t have to be friends. Strangers work perfectly fine with me.”

“No hero cries like that you know?”

He didn’t respond. He hated the way she had said strangers. But he didn’t know what to say to it, he didn’t want to fuck it up again. Hurt her again so maybe strangers were best. She knew how he could be, she knew he was terrible at expressing himself so she didn’t expect to get an answer. Instead, she held out her hand.

“So, my name is y/l/n y/n, I’m a student at UA and future pro-hero. It’s nice to meet you.”

“So useless. You can’t help anyone if you’re this sensitive!”

His head snapped up to look at her face which was just confidently smiling at him, waiting for him to shake her hand. It was stupid but he took her hand in his anyways. His calloused fingers enveloping hers as he gave her a firm grip.

“This is so dumb.” He muttered under his breath, but despite his words a smile was pulling at his lips. “My name is Bakugou Katsuki. Hero in training and future #1 hero.”

“I didn’t realize you were such a crybaby, y/n”

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seokiloquy · 3 years

Text

Wood of Nine - Suna Rintarou

AU: Mythical Hybrid (?)

Requested

Tags/Warnings: GN!Reader, uhhhhh nothing else?

Word Count: 2.4K

The men scattered, running in different directions, slight screams escaping their mouths as they sprinted away. One tripped over a root, abandoned by his friends and scrambled to his feet to follow their retreating steps.

Tall trees surround every visible stretch of land, reaching so high that it turned the sky green. The forest floor was uneven, rock and moss-covered with no discernable beaten path.

You sighed, watching the last man flee with a horrified scream of "nine" echoing behind him.

With a pinched brow, your eyes followed him through the dense trees until you couldn’t see him any longer before looking at your claws hands, nails sharp and ready for action after an unknown amount of time spent waiting.

"Nine?" You muttered, feeling your single white tail whip behind you in a swaying motion.

You had opened your eyes that morning to light chirps and rustling leaves, a welcoming atmosphere to most had you not realized that you were sitting in a dark wooden crate in the middle of nowhere. It was a quick, unwelcome conclusion that you had come to.

They shipped you off.

After years of worship and praise, people on their knees in your presence, feeding you, caring for you as they wished for good luck and fortune. Years of care for your small group of people, and they shipped you off in your sleep.

You looked up from your hands and picked your claws at the bark of a tree, wincing at the feeling of the hardwood lifting the sharpened nail from your skin. A huff pushed its way out of your chest and you bent your knees to sit back down onto the collapsed wooden crate that you were provided. You delicately patted the lightweight clothes that you had been dressed in, picking at loose threads and groaning at the poor quality.

As the sky turned dark and the air became cold, you continued to sit, back straight and chin held up as you watched the once dull now bioluminescent plants and creatures appear around you. The sight, though new and fascinating to your sheltered eyes, didn't keep you from leaving the wooden floor you sat on.

The fluffy, well-groomed ears that sat atop your head twitched with every crack and scuff you heard in the trees. You trail unconsciously moved to wrap around your side and onto your lap, where you twisted the fire between the pads of your fingers.

A sudden growl from behind you sent shivers up your spine, joining the cold air in challenging your will. Every muscle in your body tightened, making you vibrate slightly as you shut your eyes. You gripped the ends of your tail tightly as you sat still, breaths slowly accelerating. You flinched slightly as a wet, rough textured pad hitting the back of your neck, puffing out warm air before creating audible sniffs.

You listened as the creature slowly made its way around you, clawed paws clicking against the hardwood that you sat on. When you heard it’s fur fit the wooden plate, you squinted an eye open, catching sight of its proud figure sitting before you.

“Beast. What do you want?”

Wide back eyes stared directly into you, much more still than you could force yourself to be in that moment. The unfamiliar creature let out a gentle chuff and bob it’s head in your direction.

“I apologize, but I don’t understand.” You watched the creature’s orange fur ruffled with the light breeze and it closed its eyes for a moment before staring back at you. Your tail twitched. “Well, may I ask for your purpose here?”

You waited for it to speak, give you well wishes and kind recognitions, maybe lick at your claws. It sat for a moment, before getting on all fours and walking behind you. You closed your eyes at the action, sighing, and remaining still in your makeshift seat.

You heard a growl, quickly followed by a choking hold pulling at the back of your ratty tunic. You sputtered, gasping in a gulp of air, and rose to your feet to see the black-tipped eared creature staring back at you.

“Ah, I see. You didn’t need to pull on me like a kit.”

The creature chuffed again, scoffing as it began to walk off it’s black dipped paws into the forest. You bit your tongue and scrunched your nose as you followed it deeper into the glowing woods.

Moss squished underneath your toes and the hard texture of fallen branches and pebbles dug into the soft pads of your feet. The creature was more elegant, prancing over each piece element a few steps ahead of you as you slowly stumbled behind. You tripped, wincing as you massaged your overworked food, only to look up and find the creature burrowing itself into a small cave opening.

You shivered as a warm breeze grazed over your shoulder. “Hey, don’t leave me behind.”

“Don’t mind her, little lagopus. She has to care for her young.” The warm air on your neck moved quicker.

Shoulder’s hiking up, you stepped forward and spun around on a piece of soft moss. The man rose from his slight hunch, angling his head down to show you the sharp features of his face in the dim plant-light. He wore a dead expression, brow relaxed and eyelids drooped. His mouth created a shallow triangle whose points traced an invisible line to the sharp angles of his jaw. On the line of his cheekbones leading to the tip of his nose was discolouration, creating a slightly darker shade on the upper half of his face like a mask, which easily blended into his hair that swooped up into gentle points on the sides of his head that nearly made his straight furred ears blend in.

His arms around his torso to his back, where he easily lead your attention off of the draping curves of his beautifully stitched robe to the long collection of grey tails with white tips and hints of orange.

You could feel the strain in your forehead as your eyebrows tried to meet your hairline. “Nine,” you whispered, echoing the screams you heard.

His brow twitched upward and his head tilted, tails flicking curiously “You’ve heard of me? That’s surprising considering your sheltered upbringing.”

“Only in passing, only today. Upbringing?”

“Protected by the company of those filthy humans of course.”

He dropped his hands to his side before raising them up, placing one long-fingered hand onto your shoulder and the other gesturing to a small, human-shaped opening in the side of a grotesquely large tree.

“I wouldn’t say filthy, I was worshipped. Why is that tree so wide? And tall?”

“It’s in the centre of the forest. I requested for you to be sent directly here, but those humans were too fearful I’m afraid. Come in, I’ll make tea.” He gestured you through the wooden door, closing it behind him as he entered. “And as for being worshipped, they thought you a pompous feline.”

The inside of the tree was hollowed out, the same glowing plants from outside decorated the ceiling to light up the open space. You noticed a carved out staircase across from the entrance, at the back, between the kitchen and what appeared to be a mixture of a workshop, study and lounge with a variety of trinkets scattered around.

The nine-tailed man nodded to a seat for you to occupy as he fiddled with some flint in his hands.

“Feline? You say that as if they made an incorrect assessment.”

“I am,” he said, spinning on the heel of his calloused foot, two cups of tea in hand. “But feel free to try and prove me wrong. Though I’m sure their readiness to throw you out was proof enough.” A small fang peeked out from under his top lip at the slightest twitch of visible emotion.

“Alright. I’m no cat. Then what am I?”

“Vulpes of course, lagopus no less.”

You took the mug from his hand, claw gently dragging against the back of it. He reciprocated by teasingly flicking the rim with his own. It was warm, much warmer than the cold outside air. You felt yourself warming up as you took a sip. “Enlighten me. What is that and how did they figure it out?”

“A white fox. How they figured it out though, I’m not sure. I was told by an excited pair of travellers that the nearby village was planning to eliminate their deity. Couldn’t let that happen, now could I?” He sipped on his tea, leaning his elbows on the table as he sat across from you.

You set your mug down, a rod shooting through to your spine as you looked into his golden eyes. “Eliminate? That’s typically a kind way to say execute, murder.”

“That it is. I chose not to risk it and asked those kind travellers to use their crows to deliver a letter for me. It was kind of them to offer their service.” He took a deep breath in. “Not that they had a choice, they are walking through my forest after all.”

You studied his calculated movements, sipping on your tea. “May I ask your name, forest owner?”

He huffed through his nose in a silent chuckle. “Rintarou, last of Suna. And yours?”

“(Y/N), only. No surname was given to me. But Suna? No wonder you’re in charge of the forest, your whole lineage is made up of protectors, the reliable.”

Suna hummed, “And how are you aware of that information when you seem so oblivious to everything else.”

“I read it in a book once. Well, a small girl read it to me.”

“To you.”

“You should know that cats are seen as cunning and wise to humans. They never let me read, or even learn how to. They thought I knew everything there was to know. I suppose that led them to find out that I was not a feline, like we all believed I was,” you yawned, setting the nearly empty cup on the table. “What we all thought I was.”

Suna peered out one of his hollow windows to the darkness outside his home. “It’s rather late. I have a second cot for you to use. Let’s head upstairs.” He watched as you took a final gulp of tea before setting both mugs to the side of his kitchen counter.

The solid steps didn’t creak as he led you up them, before walking into the similarly sized room and giving you the chance to observe it all. The cots, that he has quickly gone to tidying, were pushed against one wall, pillows next to each other as the foot of them pointed in opposite directions. On the opposite end of the room, similar to the one below, was what seemed to be a round space, tall shelves lining the walls with well-handled books filling each open space.

You walked over, eyes skimming over the letters on the spines as you tried to make out their titles.

“I can teach you. To read that is. A lot of those books are informative, but quite a few are of fictional variety if you so please in the future.”

You looked over your shoulder, seeing Suna look up at you in question as he sat down on what you assumed to be his cot. Giving one last glance to the books, you walked to the empty cot, pulling the blanket over your legs and setting your head on the fluffed pillow. Suna leaned, resting a hand above your pillow, on the floor, to carry his weight. You looked up at his glowing eyes.

“Would you be so kind to do that?”

“Of course. Now rest, it’s been a stressful day.”

With the rising sun came howls of anger and metal pots smashing together. You sat up from your cot, twisting around to see Suna’s empty bed left with an unkept blanket crumpled to the side. You yawned, tail flicking as you stretched before your twitching ears picked up on the ruckus outside. You crawled to the window, squinting as the sunlight tried to burn into your eyes.

“Bring the fowl beast out!” the crowd jeered.

You caught a glance and Suna’s slouched figure standing a few metres before the door, hands raised in a sort of mock surrender. As your eyes began to adjust and the blood began running through your ears in waves you started to put together the familiar faces in the crowd. You strangled a gasp before ducking beneath the window sill.

“Now, now. No reason to start a riot. That beast you speak of is no longer here, it was a very big meal I must say, but if you start acting up I might be so inclined to make room in my stomach for more.”

The crowd seemed to choke.

“So, if that sways you, would you be so kind to remove that blade away from my neck? It’s rusty and clashes with my fur.”

You sit silently, legs pulled as close to your chest as you were able, with your clawed hands over your mouth.

A man’s voice cracked through the silence, “Meal? You expect us to believe you ate your own kind? Preposterous!”

The lilt that poured from Suna’s voice made the smirk he wore paint the air. “What’s preposterous is that you wouldn’t believe a beast to do such a thing.” There was silence. “I suggest you run now. This is my forest after all.”

As soon as his voice stopped, a chorus of growls began to erupt from the hidden corners of the forest. You rolled onto your knees to take a look, just in time to catch the horrified faces your old people wore before they ran away, screams of ‘nine’ following them.

Suna was quick to enter his home again, greeted with an amused chuckle coming down the stairs.

“Hmm human flesh, how delectable,” you crooned before falling into another laugh, tail swishing and ears pinned back.

“Be careful there Lagopus, I still haven’t had much in terms of lunch.” He paced towards his kitchen. “Care to join me?”

You sat on the same wooden chair from the night before. “So long as I am not on the plate, yes.”

….At some point while writing this, Suna reminded me of Shrek…. I’m sorry - Bacon

Posted: 20/12/2020

#suna rintarou #suna x reader #Haikyuu x reader #Haikyuu #x reader #oneshot #oneshots #haikyuu oneshots #haikyuu reader insert #reader insert #aus #haikyuu aus #fluff #haikyu #anime x reader #anime #manga x reader #manga

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ayuuria · 3 years

Text

Yashahime Translation: VV Magazine December 2020 Issue

Please do not repost this translation without my consent! This includes screenshots of any type and amount. If you wish to share this translation, simply link to this post.

For more information regarding the use of my translations, click here.

Interview with Matsumoto Sara

On VVM (VV Magazine) is voice actress, Matsumoto Sara, who plays the role of Higurashi Towa in the anime that started on October 3 on Yomiuri TV/Nippon TV channel, “Hanyō no Yashahime” (Every Saturday evening at 5:30pm~ *Some areas excluded)! What is the charm of this current work that depicts the efforts of the three daughters (Towa = voice: Matsumoto, Setsuna = voice: Komatsu Mikako, Moroha = voice: Tadokoro Azusa) of Sesshōmaru and Inuyasha, who appeared in Takahashi Rumiko sensei’s famous work “Inuyasha”? What do you keep in mind as you play a character who crosses over time and rampages left and right with the modern and feudal eras as her stage? What was your state of mind the moment you got specifically selected to play the role of Towa? We will be going behind-the-scenes of the new “Inuyasha world”!

Matsumoto: My name is Matsumoto Sara. Please treat me well today!

Ikeuchi: I am Ikeuchi Shinji of the Village Vanguard (abbreviated VV going forward) P strategic division. Please treat me well today.

VVM: This page is a specialty corner of this small magazine where we try to interview the person that the lucky staff members selected from the approximately 350 stores that VV maintains across the country, have said that they want to meet… This time, we specially had Ikeuchi-san from VV headquarters come as he is a big fan of not only the “Inuyasha” series of course, but Takahashi Rumiko-sensei as well.

Ikeuchi: I was part of the generation that read the “Inuyasha” manga in real time. Furthermore, I’m basically a big big big fan of Takahashi Rumiko-sensei so I took advantage of this opportunity and came today (laughs).

Matsumoto: I’m deeply honored!

Ikeuchi: No no, I am truly honored as well! Of course, I enjoy watching “Hanyō no Yashahime”, so just being able to meet a voice actor who takes part in a work that I love makes me happy.

Matsumoto: Thank you very much!

Ikeuchi: With that, regarding “Hanyō no Yashahime”. First, could you tell us what was going through your mind when it was decided that you would be cast in a work that continues the world of a big hit history work that makes someone from a generation like mine fired up?

Matsumoto: First I thought “No way!”. I was shaking. I had asked my manager over the phone in a corner of the train station building near the recording studio and I jumped for joy there (laughs).

Ikeuchi: It seems you auditioned, so you find out the results over the phone I see.

Matsumoto: I contact my manager via phone, email, and other different means, but so far good news tends to come over the phone (laughs). I knew that news had arrived regarding “Hanyō no Yashahime” and I was just in the middle of recording. I was always looking at an accent dictionary on my smartphone when recording. Then the screen suddenly flashed, and my manager’s name popped up.

Ikeuchi: You wanted to call back as soon as possible!

Matsumoto: That’s right. However, I really held myself back until after the recording was over. At this point, many days had passed since the audition so I thought “Could it be…” and when I called back at the station building near the studio, they said “You got the part!”

Ikeuchi: That’s going to be a memorable station building.

Matsumoto: Yes! (laughs)

VVM: Though you explained it on your blog, it seems you were not allowed to tell anyone that you passed until the day of the announcement?

Matsumoto: The only person I told was my older sister who I live with. I recorded a voice sample for the “Hanyō no Yashahime” audition during the self-quarantine period but it seems my sister overheard it. She said, “You seem to be saying Sesshōmaru this and Sesshōmaru that next door” (laughs). It seems she figured it out somewhat.

Ikeuchi: She probably thought “Maybe it’s an audition related to “Inuyasha”” (laughs)

Matsumoto: That’s how she found out. Hence, I told her “I passed that thing”. Then my sister rejoiced too.

VVM: The information was released on August 7th. This was the first lead role in your career so I’m sure your family was overjoyed.

Matsumoto: Everyone told me “Congrats! ~” “Do you best~”. I have a relative who’s an avid fan of Rumiko-sensei, so they lamented “Why didn’t you tell me~!” (laughs). When that person told me previously “It looks like they’re going to do a new “Inuyasha” story”, I had already auditioned but I couldn’t even tell them that. I really had to suppress the urge to tell them.

Ikeuchi: I’m also a big fan, so I totally understand how they felt (laughs).

VVM: Was there already social distancing at the audition?

Matsumoto: Yes. Normally you meet a lot of people at the audition site (studio), but I auditioned alone. That’s why I don’t know what type and how many people auditioned.

VVM: Thus, you passed with flying colors and apparently during the first recording, sound director, Nagura Yasushi, advised you that “You don’t need to make her so boyish” or something like that?

Matsumoto: Nagura-san gives me all sorts of advice, but he really places importance on Towa being a girl.

VVM: Was there a reason you were leaning more towards boyishness?

Matsumoto: When I submitted the voice sample, I only had the character design and setting document, so I didn’t know the character’s personality or details.

Ikeuchi: Do you fill in the missing information yourself?!

Matsumoto: Yes. I thought over a lot of things like the meaning of a girl in boyish pants… Or that it’s written Sesshōmaru’s daughter, but her surname is Higurashi… the result was a pretty strong toned voice sample. I was told “You passed” with that so I went into the recording with that and I was advised “You don’t need to make her boyish”.

Ikeuchi: What was the intent?

Matsumoto: She’s simply a 14-year-old middle school girl who grew up in the modern era so she’s not really conscious of things like her strength in fights or the blood relation to her parents. It’s possible that by going to the feudal era and getting involved with Setsuna and Moroha, she becomes conscious of that side of herself. That’s why I think they wanted me to be aware that at the beginning, Towa is just a normal girl.

Ikeuchi: I see. Now that you mention it, at the beginning, Towa was the only one who didn’t have any experience in battle. Even in episode 3, she didn’t land the finishing blow.

Matsumoto: She gets into fights but she’s never experienced defeating demons so when I think about things like “I wonder if by chance the part of her that’s Sesshōmaru’s daughter will awaken?”, “How is she going to change?”, or “I wonder if she’s going to become cool?”, I get excited. But there’s a part of me that’s a little unsure if I’ll be able to express that well (laughs).

VVM: Two months have passed since broadcasting began; what sort of girl do you think Towa is now?

Matsumoto: She looks cool as there are visuals that make her look like a boy, but I think she has a surprisingly absentminded side to her (laughs).

Ikeuchi: Although I can feel Towa’s kindness and strong heart from your voice, do you have any difficulty balancing that aspect?

Matsumoto: While I leave the character balancing to the directors, even if I think about my acting at home, I won’t know until I sync up with Komatsu Mikako, who plays Setsuna, and Tadokoro Azusa, who plays Moroha, so that’s where it gets difficult.

Ikeuchi: Like what sort of acting will the other person do?

Matsumoto: That’s right. There are times where the act I’ve prepared takes a 180-degree turn, so I put 120% into my real time acting for each situation.

Ikeuchi: Starting from Towa, Setsuna, and Moroha, each of the three different characters have voices that really suit them.

Matsumoto: The tone of voice for all three of them isn’t very high, so there’s an aspect where I feel they’re all similar. Especially when it comes to serious lines. However, when listening to it, this might be strange to say, but the “shade” of the voice is different like the mellowness, so while the voices overlap, I think there’s differentiation between the characters. (translator’s note: I’m not positive about this sentence).

Ikeuchi: Towa and Setsuna are twins, so I think that the part where they’re a little “similar” makes them realistic.

Matsumoto: Thank you. After episode 3, there are more scenes where Towa and Setsuna poke comments at Moroha, so sometimes sound director Nagura (Yasushi) tells us our voices sound the same. Apparently, there are times where they sound like one person, so I consulted with Setsuna’s voice actress, Komatsu Mikako, and changed my tone.

Ikeuchi: What sort of conversations do you have with Komatsu-san and Tadokoro-san?

Matsumoto: We talk about acting of course, but the three of us love “Inuyasha” and we were able to take part in “Hanyō no Yashahime”, so we fan talk like “I wonder if that demon from that time was…?” or “This was in “Inuyasha” too right?” (laughs).

Ikeuchi: What about personally? (translator’s note: Like in private life)

Matsumoto: The three of us made a group chat in LINE and we communicate there. For example, after I watched episode 1 prior to airing, I messaged them like “Did you see episode 1? It was amazing!!”. Then Komatsu-san responded “Ooo, I’ll watch I’ll watch!”. Tadokoro-san responded with “It would be a waste so I’m going to watch it on air!”.

Ikeuchi: To fans, that’s an incredibly extravagant group chat!

Matsumoto: It’s only been two months since episode 1 but the three of us are already close and we always hype on recording day.

Ikeuchi: Are the three of you in the recording booth together?

Matsumoto: The staff made distancing considerations so that the three of us could record together. There are a lot of scenes with the three of them, so as of now the three of us mostly record together.

VVM: Has Takahashi Rumiko-sensei ever come to watch the recording or said anything to you before?

Matsumoto: When recording first started, it was during a situation where meetings were being done remotely, so I didn’t have opportunities to meet not only Rumiko-sensei of course, but the other cast members as well. However, the other day when I went to the limited time “Inuyasha” Café that opened in Shibuya PARCO with director Satō Teruo and the other “Hanyō no Yashahime” cast members, Rumiko-sensei was there! I greeted her with “I am Matsumoto Sara, the role of Higurashi Towa!”

Ikeuchi: I’m genuinely envious of you! Since she doesn’t make very many appearances on TV and such, her existence is so far away that you wonder if she really exists…

Matsumoto: It was deeply emotional. Pardon me for saying this but I was also moved like “She’s really here…”. She was like a god to me when I was a child.

VVM: Did you have any sort of conversation with her?

Matsumoto: I heard that the cast and staff of the “Inuyasha” anime went on trips together every year since the broadcasting. I was moved that they still communicate with each other even now after 20 years since the broadcast. When I think about how I get to participate in a part of this work that sensei cherishes so much, my body tenses up.

Ikeuchi: Actually, to celebrate the broadcasting of “Hanyō no Yashahime”, VV is also releasing “Hanyō no Yashahime” merchandise in which the actual animator drew the illustration… (shows a rough sketch drawn in pencil)

Matsumoto: What?! That’s amazing!! The side profile (face) feels fresh.

Ikeuchi: This will be used as the cover for VVM and such.

Matsumoto: I’m so happy that you would publish it in such a magazine!

Ikeuchi: Not at all, the pleasure is ours!

Matsumoto: (while looking at the picture) It really is the world of “Hanyō no Yashahime”! I look forward to the colored VVM cover!

VVM: We would like to have you trace your memories back a little here, but we would like to ask you what made you become a voice actress and what kind of girl were you when you were Towa’s age (14)?

Matsumoto: When I was 14 years old huh… I was in an all-girls middle school for three years, so I never really interacted with boys the same grade as me. Hence, I grew up in a world of only girls. It was a classroom permeating with the characteristic emotions of girls going through adolescence (laughs) and I think I learned all sorts of things like how to interact with people. Until then, part of my personality was that I was somewhat too conscious of things and I casually learned to “let go”. (translator’s note: it literally said “抜く” in quotes which directly translates to “to remove or pull out”. It can also translate to fap… honestly this can go in any direction so interpret this as you will lmao)

Ikeuchi: In addition, during adolescence did you ever go to VV?

Matsumoto: I’m from Chiba prefecture and I always went to the nearby VV. I bought presents at VV when it was someone’s birthday.

Ikeuchi: Thank you very much!

Matsumoto: After becoming an adult, I went to buy a towel with a meat pattern on it. I bought a lot and went about giving them to people who’ve taken care of me (laughs).

Ikeuchi: The meat towel! It’s been popular ever since it went on sale (*unfortunately it is sold out at this time)

VVM: Around when did you start aiming to become a voice actress?

Matsumoto: In my elementary school graduation anthology, I wrote that “I want to become a voice actor”!

Both: Whaat, Wow!

Ikeuchi: So since elementary school?

Matsumoto: I was good at drawing when I was in elementary, so apparently my parents and relatives thought I would go towards the design route. That’s when my friend told me about the work of voice acting. They said they wanted to be a voice actor. Influenced by that, I said “I’ll become one too!” (laughs).

Ikeuchi: Have to thank your friend for that then.

Matsumoto: Yes. For me, I wanted to become a manga artist since I was good at drawing, but thanks my friend, I learned that there was a world where you act with your voice.

VVM: What did you want to be during middle school?

Matsumoto: Around the end of middle school, I suddenly thought “I want to do acting!”. I looked at the notices for acting schools that are usually on the back of magazines and I thought “I don’t really get it, but I have a feeling I can do this!” (laughs). Then I spoke with my parents.

Ikeuchi: What did your parents say?

Matsumoto: My parents made a living with music to begin with, so they understood. They were basically like “If that’s what you want to do, then why not give it a try?”. So they let me go to (acting) school and as I learned about acting and singing, I vaguely began to think “I want to work in this field in the future”.

Ikeuchi: From there, why did you choose voice acting?

Matsumoto: By the time I was a high schooler, I had done several auditions but for some reason my (acting school) teacher brought a lot of voice work. Then I suddenly remembered how in elementary school I made a big deal about “I want to be a voice actor!”. I thought of voice acting as one way of acting.

Ikeuchi: How did you ultimately decide what path to take?

Matsumoto: The moment I decided my path. Until then, I had thought about going to a 4-year university that was known for theatre, but my mother told me “Going to university doesn’t mean you’ll be able to do acting all the time?”. I realized that that wasn’t quite right. I want to think about acting all the time!

VVM: Indeed, a university would mean that you would have general study plus theatre study.

Matsumoto: It’s a no brainer but the only thing in my head was “Acting!” “Voice Actor!” so my thought process was genuinely “I want to do acting = a university with a theatre department!”. Ultimately, I went to the vocational school I graduated from.

VVM: Tokyo Announce Gakuin correct?

Matsumoto: Yes. By that time, I had decided “I’ll definitely become a voice actor!”. My parents also pushed me saying “If you’re going to go to that kind of a vocational school, you better become a pro!” (laughs).

Ikeuchi: That’s how your dream came true.

Matsumoto: Yes. I’m truly happy.

Ikeuchi: Your friend who told you about voice actors, your parents, your (acting school) teacher… through all those different encounters, you were guided down the path of a voice actor.

Matsumoto: I’m grateful of the fact that I have a job doing something I enjoy, but this time I got a big role in a work that’s connected to “Inuyasha” which I have loved for a long time. I’m truly thankful to the people I met.

VVM: Before you became a voice actress, which works of anime did you like and influenced you aside from “Inuyasha”?

Matsumoto: When I was little, I enjoyed “Card Captor Sakura” that was being broadcasted on NHK. There was also the one-hour time slot of “Inuyasha”, of course, and “Detective Conan” (Nippon TV). Then there was the one-hour time slot of “Hikaru no Go” and “Prince of Tennis” (TV Tokyo). “Chibi Maruko-chan” and “Sazae-san”. I loved “One Piece” and “Kochi Kame (Kochira Katsushika-ku Kameari Kōen-mae Hashutsujo)” (Fuji TV) so I watched them all the time. Not only do I remember the details of the works I watched back then but I still like them as well. Ever since I started making my own money, I’ve been repurchasing the original mangas.

VVM: On your blog, you recently wrote that you went to see “Princess Mononoke” at the theater, so do you like Ghibli works?

Matsumoto: I love Ghibli works and while I had a lot of VHS movies back home, “Princess Mononoke” was rescreened in June of this year so I went to watch it. I came to understand parts that I didn’t get as a child and once again thought it was an amazing work.

VVM: It was first shown in 1997. The content is a little difficult for a child to understand isn’t it?

Matsumoto: Now that I think about, this a little off tangent but at the time, my mother went to watch the movie and showed me the pamphlet. On the cover was the scene where the heroine, San, was sucking out blood from Moro’s wound.

VVM: It’s a well-known scene on posters and such.

Matsumoto: I thought the blood around San’s mouth was dirt. I remember thinking “We have to hurry and wipe the dirt off that girl’s mouth!” and scrubbing it.

Ikeuchi: (laughs) What happened to the dirt?

Matsumoto: I scrubbed too hard and tore a hole in it (laughs). I’m sorry, this was really off tangent!

VVM: (laughs) It would be great if you could make an appearance in a Ghibli work.

Matsumoto: Ever since I decided to become a voice actor, I always had the thought of “I want to be in Ghibli movie!” in my heart, so I definitely want to make that come true!

Ikeuchi: Speaking of movie theater, getting a little ahead but I want to see a movie edition of “Hanyō no Yashahime” just like “Inuyasha”!

Matsumoto: Absolutely! I also want to see Towa, Setsuna, and Moroha, in action on the big screen!! If we could see the parents and children fighting together at the movie theater… Aah~ just thinking about it makes the corner of my eyes heat up. Ever since I got the role of Towa, I’ve been hoping myself “Please let this happen!” (laughs).

Ikeuchi: We fans wish for that too!

VVM: Recently, you declared on your blog “I’ve become able to keep my word!” so please make this a reality!

Matsumoto: (laughs) Okay, we will do our best!

VVM: Alright then, lastly please tell us your goals for 2021!

Matsumoto: Let’s see, I don’t know if this will be possible until the world becomes more stable, but I would love to interact with “Hanyō no Yashahime” fans around the world. “Inuyasha” is popular worldwide so I get supportive messages in all sorts of languages on my twitter. Among them are people who comment using translation tools so I would like to meet everyone directly… even if meeting directly isn’t possible, I would like to talk to everyone in some way. This is what I think of “Hanyō no Yashahime”. I like this character. Anything is fine so I would love to hear them.

VVM: What about in your personal life?

Matsumoto: I want to move. I live with my older sister but because the state of the world has changed this past year and me becoming busy with “Hanyō no Yashahime”, we’ve had a few problems arise… The biggest problem is our bath times overlap. I say that but I do get along with my sister, so maybe living in the same apartment complex but in different units like the Asagaya Sisters (laughs). I’d like to talk with her and find the best possible solution!

Ikeuchi: Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule today!

Matsumoto: Thank you as well! I look forward to seeing both the “Hanyō no Yashahime” cover issue and article. Please support “Hanyō no Yashahime” next year as well!

#Yashahime #Hanyō no Yashahime #yashahime: princess half demon #translation

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candlelight27 · 4 years

Text

Chapter 1: The Call Of Yesterday

Summary: Sylvain has been ignoring you since you met him. You had been in love with him since you met him. College is about to offer you a fresh start. New academic year, new life. You were ready to forget him. But fate seems to have other plans... (COLLEGE AU)

Series: Seeking Your Warmth If Only For A Day

Warnings: Not so unrequited love, Sylvain being an asshole, curse words

Pairings: Sylvain Jose Gautier x Female Reader

Word Count: 3617

AO3: The Call Of Yesterday

A/N: Okay, my aim is not for this College AU to be faithful to reality, but to incarnate my own college fantasy. I’m tring to use a lot of characters to make it interesting. Anyways, come talk to me! Send me your suggestions, your comments, your thoughts... And enjoy this fic!

“This is going to be my year”, you told yourself as you got ready for your first day of university. You were brushing your hair and styling it the way Dorothea suggested, since she always knew what would suit everyone’s features. You wanted to be perfect because that was going to be a special day.

Your mind wandered off into the days you spent in Garreg Mach High School. You smiled softly at the reminiscence, since some of the most beautiful memories you harboured took place there, between those cherished halls. Prom night, summer c88uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

amps, the sports club... You were going to miss that time, but you had to move on.

For that matter, it was about time you moved on from a certain thorn in your heart. One that had been bothering you for years. Of course, that thorn had a name, a middle name, and a surname, all too well known to everyone at Garreg Mach.

Sylvain Jose Gautier.

Your own particular unrequited love story.

Your crush on him was kept a secret throughout all high school, naturally. How could it not be? You had fell for the most renowned womanizer of your year – probably the most renowned womanizer of the whole history of your school. He was handsome, he was intelligent, he was nonchalant and carefree, yes, but he also was an asshole, and you didn’t want your friends acknowledging the fact that you had fell fully for his tricks. However, there was something quite worse than falling for the corny clichés and shameless lines Sylvain constantly used. Something far worse than melting with his every word and dying to be the girls whose cheeks he made blush. And infinitely worse than spending all your breaks trying to catch a glance of his fiery hair around the corners of the building.

The thing is that Sylvain had never spared a second glance to you. He hadn’t even tried to flirt you, unlike he did with the whole female community.

That complete banishment was what mortified you the most in your romantic ordeal.

You remembered that time Ingrid introduced you to her childhood friends, Dimitri, Felix and Sylvain. They had gone to the field to cheer her during a football match of your high school team. You had heard of them before and saw them often on the corridors, but you had never crossed a word with any of them, as they were in Ingrid’s class and not yours. You were quite excited to finally talk to Sylvain, for you had been looking at him in the distance ever since Ingrid started telling you stories about him. Yet while your heart pounced like a runaway horse, he only muttered a ‘hi’ and disappeared into thin air.

“Apologise our friend. He’s always off to chase skirts, it’s nothing personal”, tried to explain Dimitri, ever the gentleman.

The next few times you met him, he merely pronounced monosyllables to your efforts of striking up a conversation. Even Ingrid commented on how dry his behaviour was when you were there. How could love appear out of nowhere? It was probably the stupidity of puberty. But your desire was out of control and you couldn’t help going back to him. To those light brown eyes that seemed to melt your heart…

But it was all water under the bridge. You grew up. That silly attraction ongoing for years was going to meet its end with your fresh start at university. Your teenage love was gone with the wind.

You had all summer to psych yourself up and forget him. So far so good. No nigh-time fantasies to keep suffering, no fateful encounters to revive the forgotten flame, nothing to remind you of Sylvain.

You even went on a date with Ferdinand, something completely new for you. It was Dorothea, always meddling in your love life, who had set you up with him when she wormed out of you that you liked redheads. She was convinced your lifelong crush was Ferdinand, because you had been on the same class since you were kids. After such a pompous announce of your date with him, you almost felt bad for your brunette friend as you told her how horribly wrong your date was, but in the end you both laughed about it.

So, yes. You were indeed free from the fetters that Sylvain had bounded without realizing. Or so you thought. You didn’t want to think about that small trace of doubt that told you it would all be in vain the second you see him again after summer break.

“This is going to be my year…”, you repeated out loud as a chant while you gathered your things for your lessons.

“Are you ready?”, asked Ingrid from another room. She was now your flatmate, on one hand because a sudden friendship had bloomed during the holidays, on the other hand because Dorothea was stuck with a new exchange student, Petra, and Mercedes couldn’t be separated from Annette, so you both ended up alone and it seemed the obvious solution. You didn’t complain, you liked her company and things were working just fine.

“Yes!”, you answered and joined her in the entrance, rucksack on your back and phone on your hand.

Her blonde hair was tied neatly in a long braid and her clothes were comfortable yet formal, just like her usual self. She seemed excited for the fresh start, too, as she rushed to talk about the upcoming lessons.

You left the student’s residence, following a couple of groups of people you didn’t know. It was a sunny morning, thus the beams of light shone right though the leaves, already changing their colours at autumn’s pace. While you walked, Ingrid was checking her phone for new messages.

“Are you talking to the guys?”, you asked as you wondered about Sylvain’s schedule in silence – not that you were interested, you wanted to make sure you avoided him –. You didn’t want to be too straightforward, because even the most oblivious person, Ingrid in this case, would notice there was something going on if you were too invested in his affairs, so you were cautious.

“Oh, right now I’m talking to Ashe.” She smiled, still typing. You raised your eyebrows.

“I thought you weren’t that close to him.”

“He’s attending all my lessons so I’m checking a few things with him”, she answered. You nodded and checked your own phone.

Dorothea (08:45): I’m waiting for you on Anna’s Café.

Dorothea (08:45): HURRY UP YOU ARE SLOWER THAN MY GRANNY

“Dorothea’s waiting ahead for us”, you commented.

“Who are you sharing lessons with?”, Ingrid questioned, putting her phone away in her pocket. You hadn’t seen her so interested in the machine ever – you’d have to figure out if it was Ashe’s fault.

“I’m not sure!”, you said. “I think I’m sharing subjects with some of the Golden Deers… Marianne, Lysithea, Claude… Also, Mercedes and Bernadetta.” You weren’t that close to any of them in particular. You sometimes hoped you had closer friends with you, but at least it was a good opportunity to become closer to new people.

“That’s quite the group! All the houses of Garreg Mach mixed!”, the blonde exclaimed. She was right, it was going to be quite the sight – and an exciting adventure, too, you supposed. “Yesterday Sylvain told me he’s going to be in my first lesson today along with Felix, and on some other ones. But the ones who got the same itinerary as me are Dimitry and Ashe, so I’m going to see them often.” She made a pause, as if imagining the future. You, on the other hand, were delighted to hear you weren’t going to share classes with Sylvain. “Leonie and Edelgard have chosen that itinerary too –”

“Hello!” Dorothea sprang to you, dressed in the latest trend, as always. Her smile was radiant.

“Hi, Dorothea! We were talking about who’s on our classes”, commented Ingrid.

“I’m with Hilda! I was hoping some handsome boys would be on my classes but Hilda said she did the research and was quite disappointed.” Dorothea sighed but suddenly called your name. “Claude is in your class, right?” You nodded with caution. “Didn’t you get along with Claude?” You nodded again, furrowing your brows in suspicion. “You could ask him out!”

Ingrid started laughing while Dorothea’s voice was a sweet giggle.

“Playing the matchmaker again, Dorothea?” Ingrid tried to calm herself. “Last time, it was a disaster.”

“Yes, sorry for that”, offered Dorothea.

“Don’t sweat it”, you said, shaking your head humorously.

“But”, the singer wasn’t one to let things go, “he’s actually very hot. Everyone with eyes can see that. And he’s really easy going, unlike Ferdinand. And smart! You must have a lot in common –”

“I’m fine.” You had repeated the same many times. Your friends were trying to set you up on dates lately. “I can manage myself pretty well.”

“You could use a little stress relief though…” Ingrid blushed this time hearing Dorothea’s words. Noticing the silence, the brunette continued. “This goes for you too, Ingrid!”

“That’s not true!”

“Anyways, where’s Petra?” You tried to divert her attention as you were approaching your building.

“She had to sign some documents, so she must be in the main office,” informed Dorothea with a bright smile, her good mood contagious.

“I want to meet her”, said Ingrid, who hadn’t moved yet when you all were acquainted with the student from Brigid. You hadn’t shared more than a few greetings, but she was getting really close to her flatmate.

“We are going to throw a party at my house next week or the other!”, Dorothea announced with excitement. “If you don’t bump into her before, you’ll get to know here there.”

Even though you knew Dorothea’s parties tended to get out of hand, they were always fun, and it could be a great start for something new. You would have to work hard to convince Ingrid, who didn’t like going out that much.

And like that, you reached your destination and parted from them.

The halls of the place where you’d spend your next course studying were filled with students. All seemed to be trying to find the right way to their new classrooms. Chatter filled the air as you read the indications on your phone. It was confusing finding your way in the intricate web of corridors and doors.

“Where is room 122?”, you muttered and chewed your lip.

You found the room 121, but room 122 wasn’t nowhere in sight. You looked at the map, and figured it had to be around the next corner, so you kept walking to the direction you thought was right. You saw your phone, and it was almost 9 a.m., so you increased your rhythm. Then, you turned left.

Only to bump into someone. More specifically, someone’s chest.

You were quite confused as you fell on your butt and your backpack flew. Your bottom ached. Disoriented, you let out a faint ‘sorry’, but you were not sure to who it was directed. When you processed the situation, and that you were indeed going to be late on your very first day of university, you lifted your glance with the intention of getting up fast and entering your classroom.

Yet light brown eyes that seemed to melt your heart stared back at you.

“Are you all right?” The question was announced by a smooth, rich voice.

It was Sylvain.

Shit.

You felt a rush of nervousness that run all over your body. You tried articulating a sentence, a word, anything to play it off cool, but your tongue didn’t respond, so you simply nodded. You weren’t okay, but he didn’t need to know that. Sylvain seemed quite surprised. His luscious lips were parted slightly, his pupils were fixed on you, and he remained as still as a statue, which only added to your agitation. At last, as if he was awakened from a trance, he rose his eyebrows and extended his hand.

“Sorry, let me help you.”

You grabbed your rucksack and took his hand. It was warm, soft, and strong. Sylvain helped you up and you could see you were right in front of your classroom.

“I have to… go to my first lesson”, you said as you pointed at the door.

“Oh, yes. Me too”, he flashed you an award-winning smile of his, totally recomposed of the mishap. “I think we share itineraries.”

“I thought you were… with Felix. And Ingrid,” you said. Inside of you, your thoughts were rioting. This couldn’t be true, you repeated yourself over and over. Half of you was trying to stay calm and affirm yourself that your stupid crush was over. The other half was sheltering some kind of hope you didn’t have time to identify. What was clear was that the redhead managed to break all of your expectations once again and you didn’t like it one bit. Of course, you put on a blank face, totally disconnected from your real feelings.

“Yes, right. I switched itineraries this morning”, he extended his hand and hold the doorknob. “My father signed me up for the one he wanted without any kind of regard to what I wanted in life… So, yeah, thankfully I had time to change everything before it was too late.” He opened the door for you.

“That’s… nice”, you smiled timidly.

“We’ll see each other often, then.” You entered the lecture room and Sylvain walked behind. It was big and spacious, and it was full of students. But at that time, it was as if only Sylvain existed. You’d have to get used to his presence in your lessons. A new challenge, but you were going to ignore him anyways.

Sylvain bid you farewell with a ‘see you’ and took a seat next to Mercedes.

You looked around to see where you could see. You saw a smiling Claude waving at you, right next to Lysithea and Marianne, and making gestures for you to come closer. “Sit with us!”, you barely understood what he said with all the chatter in the room, but his body language left no doubt.

“Hi!”, exclaimed Lysithea, looking cheerful and determined as always. Marianne looked collected and waved her hand. They both seemed much more mature after summer break.

“I’m glad to see you here! Just in time.” Claude moved his books in order to make some room for you at his side. You took the seat and settled there.

“Nice to see some familiar faces here”, you told the Almyran.

“I wonder what this year has in store for us…”, he continued, but he couldn’t finish the rest.

A young professor appeared. He looked like another student, but you could sense the authoritarian aura around him. His short hair was dark blue, and he wore black clothes. This new face sparked your curiosity, and although you were dying to turn your head and see what Sylvain was doing, you forced yourself our of your own trap. ‘Focus! You’re here to study, dammit!’, you chastised yourself.

“My name is Byleth and I’m going to teach ‘Fódlan’s history and culture’”, started the new professor.

Then, Byleth proceeded to give a long, detailed, and boring speech about the bureaucratic minutiae related his subject. It was completely tedious. He went over percentages, grading systems, schedules, credits and so on. He was really testing your will at not being distracted.

Rather than yielding to temptation, you turned around to see what Claude was doing. He was stretching like a cat and yawning. When he realised you were looking at him, he winked at you. You weren’t expecting it, so you nervously smirked and looked elsewhere. You swore it was a coincidence that your glance just happened to fall upon the infamous womanizer of Garreg Mach.

Unexpectedly, your eyes met with Sylvain’s. You decided your safest option was looking at your professor and finally paying attention.

What was happening that disastrous day? The Goddess herself must have been punishing you. You felt like you lost a war to your heart. You thought you had finished the chapter where all you did was thinking about Sylvain, you were going to date someone else, maybe fall in love and, above all, you were going to avoid returning to those years head over heels for someone who didn’t even know your name – or at least you supposed so, since he had never said it. Instead of the sensible thing, your whole being decided to betray your will, and you were all flushed and flustered with a single look of that man. It didn’t matter it was the first time he paid attention to you or that your longest conversation had been held that very same day. It didn’t matter to your dumb heart, which-

“This project will be done in pairs and it’s about the 25-30% of the final grade.” Oh, you might have wanted to pay attention to that, now that Byleth was saying something quite important.

“What did he say?”, you asked Claude.

“Too busy giving Sylvain the eye?”, he remarked, a satisfied smirk on the side of his face.

“Claude!”, you tried to scold him, but as you were whispering, it sounded like a high-pitched yell of guilt. Just like your feelings.

“Okay, okay. No need to get your knickers in a twist”, he couldn’t resist teasing you. “There’s this big project, 30% of the final grade or so. We have to research a topic he will give.” He sighed. “The professor also added that he’s going to assign the partners. I know it’s for our own good, for the sake of team working and all that boring paraphernalia, but it kind of sucks.”

“Maybe we’ll be lucky and we will be able to work together”, you tried to look at the bright side.

“As much as I’d love that, I think it’d be far more interesting if you got paired with someone else we know…”, he trailed off, testing the waters.

“I don’t know what you are talking about”, you sentenced.

“I’m not a fool. I know you’ve liked him since high school”. That, you weren’t expecting it. You hadn’t been exactly secretive with your longing staring, but you hadn’t been expecting the master of gossip to be after your very own secret. “Don’t make that face. I didn’t tell anyone, but you can’t fool me.”

“Just don’t tell Dorothea or I’m not going to hear the end of it”, you surrendered and pleaded. What was the use of hiding it longer? Besided, Claude made you feel comfortable and you though that he might be the right person to help you.

“Don’t worry. Just, why him?”, he wondered.

“I… It’s something beyond my control. It’s like I was condemned to love him and I can’t escape by any means. Like a force of fate is controlling me.” Now that you got to put it to word… it was the perfect description to how you felt. And you wondered how that could be.

“And how come you haven’t hooked up yet?” He laughed again at your expression of shame. “He’s Sylvain! Come on!”

“He ignored me. As in, he had never talked to me in high school”, it actually felt better than you imagined having someone to talk to. And Claude always kept quiet about other’s matters. He knew everyone’s secrets, but he never told any.

“That’s… weird. I will investigate that.” He placed his hand on his chin and his expression turned meditative. “He seems interested in you now, tough.”

“What do you mean?”, you couldn’t believe him. But something told you that it must be true if it was Claude who noticed it.

“He’s been looking at you for 40 minutes.”

You turned around and, in effect, Sylvain was looking at you. This time, it was him who moved away his gaze, a bit embarrassed to have been caught.

“So, from what I’ve seen,” Claude started to sum up, “you are trying to ignore him – don’t deny it, I’ve seen you stealing glances – because he had rejected you all high school. But now he’s flirty and charming, so you are on square one.”

“Yes, you could say so.” You were ashamed, but eager to see where he was going.

“There’s only one solution.” He moved his head closer to you, as if it was a conspiration.

“What is it?” He decidedly had captured you then, and you moved your head closer to hear him better.

“Play it along. See what happens. Don’t implicate yourself too much, but find out what changed.”

Right before you could answer, Lysithea shushed you. The professor was beginning to announce the pairs. As expected, most of your friends ended up with an unknown partner. Marianne was lucky and was set to work with Mercedes, one of the sweetest girls you knew. Bernadetta, who you hadn’t noticed until that moment, was paired with a girl called Monica, who seemed eerily familiar. Your name hadn’t been said, and neither did Sylvain’s, much to Claude’s delight.

After a long list of surnames, you didn’t recognise, it was your turn. While your name left your professors lips, your eyes widened. You raised your hand so Byleth could identify you with the name.

“Okay. There. Your partner will be…”, he was scanning the remaining names, for the list was almost finished. “Sylvain Jose Gautier.”

“Fate has decided for you”, Claude commented. You looked at Sylvain, and he had the audacity to smirk and wink at you. Outrageous.

You were then sure of it. Sothis was laughing at you. How were you supposed to survive this year?

#sylvain x reader #sylvain jose gautier x reader #Fire Emblem Three Houses #fire emblem three houses fanfiction #female reader #sylvain jose gautier #fanfiction #I have a huge crush on Sylvain #my fic #college au

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boreothegoldfinch · 3 years

Text

chapter 5 paragraph x

Of my classes, English was the only one I looked forward to, yet I was disturbed by how many of my classmates disliked Thoreau, railed against him even, as if he (who claimed never to have learned anything of value from an old person) was an enemy and not a friend. His scorn of commerce—invigorating to me —nettled a lot of the more vocal kids in Honors English. “Yeah, right,” shouted an obnoxious boy whose hair was gelled and combed stiff like a Dragon Ball Z character—“some kind of world it would be if everybody just dropped out and moped around in the woods—” “Me, me, me,” whined a voice in the back. “It’s antisocial,” a loudmouth girl interjected eagerly over the laughter that followed this—shifting in her seat, turning back to the teacher (a limp, long-boned woman named Mrs. Spear, who always wore brown sandals and earthtone colors, and looked as if she was suffering from major depression). “Thoreau is always just sitting around on his can telling us how good he has it —” “—Because,” said the Dragon Ball Z boy—his voice rising gleefully, “if everybody dropped out, like he’s saying to do? What kind of community would we have, if it was just people like him? We wouldn’t have hospitals and stuff. We wouldn’t have roads.” “Twat,” mumbled a welcome voice—just loud enough for everybody around to hear. I turned to see who had said this: the burnout-looking boy across the aisle, slouched and drumming his desk with his fingers. When he saw me looking at him, he raised a surprisingly lively eyebrow, as if to say: can you believe these fucking idiots? “Did someone have something to say back there?” said Mrs. Spear. “Like Thoreau gave a toss about roads,” said the burnout boy. His accent took me by surprise: foreign, I couldn’t place it. “Thoreau was the first environmentalist,” said Mrs. Spear. “He was also the first vegetarian,” said a girl in back. “Figures,” said someone else. “Mr. Crunchy-chewy.” “You’re all totally missing my point,” the Dragon Ball Z boy said excitedly. “Somebody has to build roads and not just sit in the woods looking at ants and mosquitoes all day. It’s called civilization.” My neighbor let out a sharp, contemptuous bark of a laugh. He was pale and thin, not very clean, with lank dark hair falling in his eyes and the unwholesome wanness of a runaway, callused hands and black-circled nails chewed to the nub—not like the shiny-haired, ski-tanned skate rats from my school on the Upper West Side, punks whose dads were CEOs and Park Avenue surgeons, but a kid who might conceivably be sitting on a sidewalk somewhere with a stray dog on a rope. “Well, to address some of these questions? I’d like for everybody to turn back to page fifteen,” Mrs. Spear said. “Where Thoreau is talking about his experiment in living.” “Experiment how?” said Dragon Ball Z. “Why is living in the woods like he does any different from a caveman?” The dark-haired boy scowled and sank deeper in his seat. He reminded me of the homeless-looking kids who stood around passing cigarettes back and forth on St. Mark’s Place, comparing scars, begging for change—same torn-up clothes and scrawny white arms; same black leather bracelets tangled at the wrists. Their multi-layered complexity was a sign I couldn’t read, though the general import was clear enough: different tribe, forget about it, I’m way too cool for you, don’t even try to talk to me. Such was my mistaken first impression of the only friend I made when I was in Vegas, and—as it turned out—one of the great friends of my life. His name was Boris. Somehow we found ourselves standing together in the crowd that was waiting for the bus after school that day.

“Hah. Harry Potter,” he said, as he looked me over. “Fuck you,” I said listlessly. It was not the first time, in Vegas, I’d heard the Harry Potter comment. My New York clothes—khakis, white oxford shirts, the tortoiseshell glasses which I unfortunately needed to see—made me look like a freak at a school where most people dressed in tank tops and flip flops. “Where’s your broomstick?” “Left it at Hogwarts,” I said. “What about you? Where's your board?” “Eh?” he said, leaning in to me and cupping his hand behind his ear with an old-mannish, deaf-looking gesture. He was half a head taller than me; along with jungle boots and bizarre old fatigues with the knees busted out, he was wearing a ratted-up black T-shirt with a snowboarding logo, Never Summer in white gothic letters. “Your shirt,” I said, with a curt nod. “Not much boarding in the desert.” “Nyah,” said Boris, pushing the stringy dark hair out of his eyes. “I don’t know how to snowboard. I just hate the sun.” We ended up together on the bus, in the seat closest to the door—clearly an unpopular place to sit, judging from the urgent way other kids muscled and pushed to the rear, but I hadn’t grown up riding a school bus and apparently neither had he, as he too seemed to think it only natural to fling himself down in the first empty seat up front. For a while we didn’t say much, but it was a long ride and eventually we got talking. It turned out that he lived in Canyon Shadows too—but farther out, the end that was getting reclaimed by the desert, where a lot of the houses weren’t finished and sand stood in the streets. “How long have you been here?” I asked him. It was the question all the kids asked each other at my new school, like we were doing jail time. “Dunno. Two months maybe?” Though he spoke English fluently enough, with a strong Australian accent, there was also a dark, slurry undercurrent of something else: a whiff of Count Dracula, or maybe it was KGB agent. “Where are you from?” “New York,” I said—and was gratified at his silent double-take, his lowered eyebrows that said: very cool. “What about you?” He pulled a face. “Well, let’s see,” he said, slumping back in his seat and counting off the countries on his fingers. “I’ve lived in Russia, Scotland which was maybe cool but I don’t remember it, Australia, Poland, New Zealand, Texas for two months, Alaska, New Guinea, Canada, Saudi Arabia, Sweden, Ukraine—” “Jesus Christ.” He shrugged. “Mostly Australia, Russia, and Ukraine, though. Those three places.” “Do you speak Russian?” He made a gesture that I took to mean more or less. “Ukrainian too, and Polish. Though I’ve forgotten a lot. The other day, I tried to remember what was the word for ‘dragonfly’ and couldn’t.” “Say something.” He obliged, something spitty and guttural. “What does that mean?” He chortled. “It means ‘Fuck you up the ass.’ ” “Yeah? In Russian?” He laughed, exposing grayish and very un-American teeth. “Ukrainian.” “I thought they spoke Russian in the Ukraine.” “Well, yes. Depends what part of Ukraine. They’re not so different languages, the two. Well—” click of the tongue, eye roll—“not so very much. Numbers are different, days of the week, some vocabulary. My name is spelled different in Ukrainian but in North America it’s easier to use Russian spelling and be Boris, not B-o-r-y-s. In the West everybody knows Boris Yeltsin…” he ticked his head to one side—“Boris Becker—” “Boris Badenov—” “Eh?” he said sharply, turning as if I’d insulted him. “Bullwinkle? Boris and Natasha?” “Oh, yes. Prince Boris! War and Peace. I’m named like him. Although the surname of Prince Boris is Drubetskóy, not what you said.”

“So what’s your first language? Ukrainian?” He shrugged. “Polish maybe,” he said, falling back in his seat, slinging his dark hair to one side with a flip of his head. His eyes were hard and humorous, very black. “My mother was Polish, from Rzeszów near the Ukrainian border. Russian, Ukrainian—Ukraine as you know was satellite of USSR, so I speak both. Maybe not Russian quite so much—it’s best for swearing and cursing. With Slavic languages—Russian, Ukrainian, Polish, even Czech—if you know one, you sort of get drift in all. But for me, English is easiest now. Used to be the other way around.” “What do you think about America?” “Everyone always smiles so big! Well—most people. Maybe not so much you. I think it looks stupid.” He was, like me, an only child. His father (born in Siberia, a Ukrainian national from Novoagansk) was in mining and exploration. “Big important job—he travels the world.” Boris’s mother—his father’s second wife—was dead. “Mine too,” I said. He shrugged. “She’s been dead for donkey’s years,” he said. “She was an alkie. She was drunk one night and she fell out a window and died.” “Wow,” I said, a bit stunned by how lightly he’d tossed this off. “Yah, it sucks,” he said carelessly, looking out the window. “So what nationality are you?” I said, after a brief silence. “Eh—?” “Well, if your mother’s Polish, and your dad’s Ukrainian, and you were born in Australia, that would make you—” “Indonesian,” he said, with a sinister smile. He had dark, devilish, very expressive eyebrows that moved around a lot when he spoke. “How’s that?” “Well, my passport says Ukraine. And I have part citizenship in Poland too. But Indonesia is the place I want to get back to,” said Boris, tossing the hair out of his eyes. “Well—PNG.” “What?” “Papua, New Guinea. It’s my favorite place I’ve lived.” “New Guinea? I thought they had headhunters. “Not any more. Or not so many. This bracelet is from there,” he said, pointing to one of the many black leather strands on his wrist. “My friend Bami made it for me. He was our cook.” “What’s it like?” “Not so bad,” he said, glancing at me sideways in his brooding, self-amused way. “I had a parrot. And a pet goose. And, was learning to surf. But then, six months ago, my dad hauled me with him to this shaddy town in Alaska. Seward Peninsula, just below Arctic Circle? And then, middle of May —we flew to Fairbanks on a prop plane, and then we came here.” “Wow,” I said. “Dead boring up there,” said Boris. “Heaps of dead fish, and bad Internet connection. I should have run away—I wish I had,” he said bitterly. “And done what?” “Stayed in New Guinea. Lived on the beach. Thank God anyway we weren’t there all winter. Few years ago, we were up north in Canada, in Alberta, this one-street town off the Pouce Coupe River? Dark the whole time, October to March, and fuck-all to do except read and listen to CBC radio. Had to drive fifty klicks to do our washing. Still—” he laughed —“loads better than Ukraine. Miami Beach, compared.” “What does your dad do again?” “Drink, mainly,” said Boris sourly. “He should meet my dad, then.” Again the sudden, explosive laugh—almost like he was spitting over you. “Yes. Brilliant. And whores?” “Wouldn’t be surprised,” I said, after a small, startled pause. Though not too much my dad did shocked me, I had never quite envisioned him hanging out in the Live Girls and Gentlemen’s Club joints we sometimes passed on the highway. The bus was emptying out; we were only a few streets from my house. “Hey, this is my stop up here,” I said. “Want to come home with me and watch television?” said Boris. “Well—” “Oh, come on. No one’s there. And I’ve got S.O.S. Iceberg on DVD.”

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