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heliosthegriffin · 3 years

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Jaune of the Dead II

-------------- Two Hours earlier ------------

“C’mon Rubes, you can’t depressed all day just because you’re imaginary boyfriend ghosted you.” Yang said playfully to Ruby.

“He’s not imaginary! He’s taller than dad, blonde, and wears a white trench-coat, I keep telling you this! That the mean Schnee made me blow up, and then he showed up did a glowy thing, and I felt great! Then walked me to the place, and then disappeared like a ghost! Then I found out he supercharged my aura! How do think I could have done so well in Initiation!” Ruby said to her sister rapid-fire.

A tall redhead puts her hand on Ruby’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t sell yourself so short Ruby, accepting your successes is necessary for good mental health, and from what I saw was enough to put some huntsmen to shame.”

Ruby pouts. “Yeah, I know! The thing is I can’t one shot a Nevermore and fly on my own! The thing is I know how strong I am, and I am not strong enough to do those on my own!”

Yang and Pyrrha sigh.

“Ruby, c’mon you’re awesome! You’re talented and you’re strong, so stop selling yourself short, wait never-mind that does apply to you.” Yang said with a shit-eating grin.

Ruby’s face was a brilliant red as she started pounding weakly against Yang’s arms. “Yannng! I drink milk, I’ll be tall one day!”

“If you say so, Rosebud.”

Pyrrha watched the exchange with a amused smile, feeling very pleased with her team so far.

She hadn’t expected to partner up with a prodigy and her sister, but destiny was full of twists and turns.

Many, many twists, like Yang’s partner and the leader of team BYRN.

Bleiss Schnee.

The notorious Black Sheep of the Schnee household and disowned daughter of Jacque Schnee for reason’s kept private, though considering what she heard of the man in the day she has known Bleiss, it didn’t paint flattering picture why he did what he did.

Who disowned their child based on appearance?

*BZZZ-BZZZ-BZZZZ*

*SNORE-SNORE*

The Black Sheep slept noisily in a dark corner of the room with her limbs thrown all across the bed as she slept under neath a black canopy bed with... her toys all still vibrating under her sheets.

A series of black glyphs floated menacingly around her bed as she slept.

Thankfully the curtains on the side of canopy bed only showed a hazy figure behind the curtains.

Bleiss had made her team go out last night to celebrate making it through initiation. They had gone to club after club, well Yang and her did, Pyrrha and Ruby left not feeling comfortable on that scene.

Yang had come back to the dorm alone, as Bleiss wanted to find someone to ‘Break her in half while folding her legs over her head,” or to find “A soft little sub to break between her legs.”

Bleiss had somehow come back empty-handed and frustrated.

Then she brought out the toys.

It had been hours before she went to sleep.

She had no idea how Ruby slept through it all, especially Yang screaming bloody murder trying to break her glyphs, which when broken unleashed somesort of insect like grimm that stung Yang without mercy.

Pyrrha was one-hundred percent sure that she started moaning louder to annoy Yang.

Thankfully, Ruby seemed to know what was going on. Apparently having walked in on Yang in a private moment before, but she still blushed red at noticing what her leader was doing calling it ‘Filthy.’

Pyrrha was also sure that it was a fools errand to try and wake her up for class. Bleiss had struck her as the type to have a couple trips up her sleeve. It did make Pyrrha ponder why she needed defenses why she slept though, but following those paths of thought those only led to dark explanations. Bleiss might make it clear one day if they grew close, and maybe, hopefully, it would have a more happy origin.

Bleiss had also made clear as leader of Team BYRN, she would go to class when she damn well felt like it. She had pointed out a loophole in the Beacon Rule book, apparently she could skip class as long as she maintained a 90% average in her classes, she could not be dropped from the classes.

A rule that was normally reserved for 3rd and 4th years who often took missions and had spend time recovering and could not attend classes, so were normally given abridged lesson and makeup tests.

Pyrrha had no idea how she going to do it, but she’d try her best to support her leader.

Pyrrha looked back to her teammates, and hopefully friends.

Yang had gotten Ruby into a headlock and was rubbing her head with her knuckles.

“Ah! AH! AH! I yield, I yield!”

“Yeah, you do, who’s the big sister, I’m the big sister, woo-woo!”

Yang dropped Ruby to the ground, who then started pouting.

Then a look of realization hit her. “See that proves it!” Pyrrha raised a elegant brow towards Ruby. “Proves what?”

“That I didn’t do all that crazy awesome stuff at initiation on my own! If I could Yang wouldn’t be able to beat me up like that!”

Pyrrha gave it some thought she had a good point.

Yang flexed her arms. “I don’t though, maybe you’re just making it excuses.”

“Maybe you just a big head!”

Yang smirks at Ruby, and then cups her chest. “I got some big somethings!”

“Ah, Yang!”

Pyrrha shook her head at her teammates antics, then her internal clock told her they had around ten minutes before class started.

Pyrrha gently clapped her hands together, not loud enough to cause shock, but enough to gain attention.

“Ahem, I do believe we have classes soon.”

The sisters looked at each other and then started cleaning themselves up for class.

Ah, she could scarcely imagine the day becoming more interesting.

--- 10 minutes prior ---

Professor Port’s lesson was interesting if veiled behind misdirection. At first Pyrrha had considered that he might be a little self-absorbed, until she started listening closely. He was purposely distracting them with long-winded stories to test their observation skills, which if one actually paid attention to would start to reveal valuable information on Grimm.

Bleiss’s twin had also the same class period as them along with her team, SBRN, Saturn. It seemed Weiss went out of her way to ignore all of them expect Pyrrha, offering her hollow praise and empty compliments.

Pyrrha had politely decline her offer to take notes together. Her team seemed nice, but it was clear there was division among-st them.

Weiss then proved to be as superficial as Pyrrha thought, having clearly been taking notes but not understanding the subtext. Prof. Port had to step in once it was clear the Greater Borbatusk was too much for her, it’s armor plating across its back and head, remained unscratched till Prof. Port grabbed it by it’s tusk and flipped it, cutting it’s belly open.

“Well, children let this be a lesson to you all, that if nothing else remember you have room to grow! And to cut a Borbatusk across the belly! HO-Ho-ho!” Despite his cheery demeanor, Pyrrha couldn’t help but notice the glint of disappointment in his eyes.

Pyrrha wished she had imagined the pleased look in Weiss partner’s eyes at her failure, and her teammates apathy towards their leaders failure. What had she done to sow such discontent in her team?

The class was dismissed and they walked to their next class, a new one if rumors were true, one that had been set up merely a day ago before suddenly being added to their schedule.

What, a odd occurrence.

It was hosted by a new teacher too, one Pyrrha had never even heard of, or the seniors if the rumors where true. But, if the rumors were true, which they usually weren’t, he was the youngest teacher in Beacon history.

How exciting.

Pyrrha, Ruby, and Yang stood outside the door staring at Weiss with her teammates entering beside her.

“I see my sister is not coming to this class, either.”

“Nope.” Yang said popping the p.

Weiss gave them all a haughty look. “Fine by me, that noisy harlot is an annoyance anyway.” She gave Pyrrha a fake smile. “It’s not too late to make the best team in Beacon history,” She looked towards the sisters. “I don’t mind trading one of mind for her to join.”

Pyrrha felt a flash of anger inside her, that was mirrored on Yang’s face, but she quickly suppressed it. “I’m sorry, but,” She put a hand on Ruby’s shoulder, and gave Yang a winning smile. “I feel I’m already on Beacon’s best team.”

Weiss scowled and stomped into the classroom.

Yang simmered before tskking. “What’s her problem.”

“I sincerely have not idea.” Pyrrha actually did if one did consider what was heard about Jacque Schnee. But, best wait before jumping the gun.

“She’s shorter than me, she probably mad she doesn’t have enough milk.” Ruby said seriously.

A snorting laugh echoed out of Yang and Pyrrha.

Pyrrha wiped a tear out of her eye.

Yang laughed. “Yeah, I bet she doesn’t have enough milk!” Yang said giving Pyrrha a knowing nod.

“I’m glad you two understand the power of milk!” Ruby said going into the classroom.

Pyrrha and Yang followed in after Ruby, and where momentarily amazed by the interior of the classroom.

It was bigger on the inside, with shelves of books covering the walls, diagrams and maps covering the walls, not an inch of the room was bare. Where there were not diagrams and books, where glass-cases, and various objects, ranging from swords, glass shards, skeletons, and weird objects that Pyrrha couldn’t hope to identify.

This did not look like the work of a day or two, this room looked as though it had been used for years!

“Wow, impressive.” Yang said from beside her. Then she scowled. “Uh-oh, looks like we got trouble this period.” She said elbowing Pyrrha to get her attention to nod towards a group of people even Pyrrha had no tolerance for.

Team VMMP; Vampire.

Vernal Wennbar

Milita Malachite

Melanie Malachite

Neo Politan.

A team of thugs and low-lifers that had somehow managed to get into Beacon.

Who, unfortunately had real skill to back up their attitude.

Yang squinted her eyes. “Something is off about them tho,”

Pyrrha had to blink thought to make sure they were the same team, though.

They were so quiet, and actually dressed for class.

Was.. Was Vernal wearing makeup?

No, she must be imagining things.

Pyrrha decided to ignore them and go sit with Ruby, Yang following behind her.

Then they waited, the class deathly quiet.

Team VMMP unusually quiet had been more than enough to cow the others into silence.

6 minutes passed.

5 minutes passed.

4 minutes passed.

and soon it would be only one minute before class started.

Their teacher, who ever it might be, hadn’t appeared yet.

Then came the sound.

*Clack-Clack-Clack*

Of heavy shoes rhythmic hitting the floor.

It had started near the edge of their hearing, sounding as if it was coming from across the school. Only for it to grow louder and louder, becoming more noticeable till it was evident it was coming towards them.

10:00.

He entered exactly as the 9:59 went to 10:00, right on time.

A head of long, messy, blonde hair came through the doorway, the hair easily coming to his mid-back. His face sharp and judgmental, but looking handsome in a imperious way. Two deep blue bloodshot eyes scanned the room as he went in, underneath his eyes were deep black bags, that spoke of a lack of sleep.

His body language tense and wary, not that much of his body could be seen as hit was covered by a billowy white leather duster, which opened to reveal stained, faded, well worn, and stitched up work clothes and pair of heavy duty work boots.

A sheathed sword on his belt.

That’s not what drew Pyrrha’s attention to him though, no it was her semblance. He was wearing metal gauntlets too over his hands and had some sort of metal armor underneath his clothes or maybe worked into them.

He was also wearing five necklaces, had a dozen rings, and had nearly twenty pounds of things, Pyrrha couldn’t imagine what, stuffed into his pockets. And that was just metal! It wouldn’t surprise her if he had more in there made of other materials.

Why did he have all those things?

She then heard Ruby’s breath hitch. “That’s him!” Ruby whispered to her and Yang.

Before she cold react he spoke.

It was not what she expected.

It was quiet, very quiet, tired too, like he had just woken up. His voice was deep, but raspy like he had a cold. But it commanded attention and impossible to ignore as within its core was a razor thin edge of Power. Of something that made his voice make her her shiver and alert to him.

‘He is dangerous,’ Something insider her warned.

“My name is Jaune Arc, I am eighteen years old, and I will teach you all the in’s and out’s of advanced aura manipulation, Soul Theory, and defense against the Paranormal. Any questions?”

-----------------

9 years and 360 days ago

-----------------

Little Jaune Arc was on his own.

He didn’t get it.

He told his parents, but they laughed at him and told him everything was fine. There was no scary lady in his closet.

He told them again. They laughed again.

He told them everyday, but they weren’t laughing anymore, they were mad.

They said if he kept making up stories for attention they’d ground him.

When he asked if he could sleep in their room, they said he was a big boy and had to sleep in his room.

Jaune stopped talking to his parents on the fourth day. They hadn’t even gone into his room. It was like that with everyone though, no one seemed to believe him, or want to go near his room!

Alicia was out hunting and out of Scroll range.

He tried Saphron and his elder sisters, but they were too busy for him. Saphron was always talking to Terra. And told him to get more creative if he wanted attention from her. Terra just laughed at him.

June was always on her scroll, and told him to buzz off.

Daisy wanted to watch tv or to paint, and told him he was distracting her, or be a model for her.

Jazz would just turn her music up till he left, or drag him into dancing.

Grace would just make him work in the garden with her, but everything he said went in one ear and out the other.

And the Rachel?

She is too young, couldn’t even walk yet.

He vented to them anyway. That was a new phrase he learned. He also learned what a phrase was at school.

“I don’t get it,” He said to his youngest sibling. “they won’t take me seriously! I keep asking and asking them to just wait till a storm hits and stay with me, but they just keep laughing, getting mad, or ignoring me!”

Little Jaune Arc grabbed his hair with both hands.

“It’s so annoying! Why is this happening?”

Rachel just played with her toys, pretending to drive a car.

A glint appeared in Jaune’s eyes.

He started playing too.

He sighed though.

“What should I do, what should I do?” He repeated to himself.

“I tried to get them to look at the window, but they keep ignoring it, I tried showing them my scars and they said they were from playing in the woods, it’s like everything I say is just being ignored.”

Jaune rolled the toy car back and forth.

Rachel bumped her car into his, pinching Jaune’s finger inbetween the metal.

A light white glow appeared on his hand.

Jaune looked at his finger in wonder.

He focused on it and tried to force the feeling back out.

Nothing happened.

Jaune frowned and looked at his hand.

He grabbed a toy car and slammed at his pinky.

A warm feeling engulfed his pinky as a white light block the car, the car bouncing off of it.

He tried to imagine it being warm again.

A faint white light ghosted over his finger, before dying.

“Hmm,” He looked at his finger. “I have no idea what I just did,” He looked at Rachel. “but, you helped.” He gave Rachel a kiss on the forehead. “Thanks sis, I don’t know if you can understand me, but thanks anyway.”

Rachel looked at him with baby blues and gave a toothy smile and giggled.

“You want to keep playing?”

------------

An: Pyrrha’s more fun to write than I thought she would be. Next up though, on the fan fic list is Arc Acres, then Dead Knight, then Prodigy AU, then Sacred Rites II.

#Jaune of the Dead #Jaune Arc #Ruby Rose #Pyrrha Nikos #Yang Xiao-Long

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romaniassexdungeon · 5 years

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Effervescent

Chapter 1: Hit the Sack

Pairing: DenEst/OzEst (side NedVia)

Warnings: lemon, terrible comedy

Summary: Eduard's furious when he finds his friend has written his phone number on a bathroom wall. He's also horny enough to give it a try, but when things get serious, he's found he might've lead two different guys on.

Notes: Co-written with @tikola-nesla First of all, we're so sorry for this terrible piece of shit. But also not because this was hilarious to write. This story follows Ed and his pathetic love life.

...

Jānis - Latvia Tomas - Lithuania Adriaan - Netherlands Gunner - Denmark Logan - Australia

Read on AO3

...

Eduard was livid. He was going to kill Jānis for this!

For once, his weak little arms didn’t struggle against the stupidly heavy door to the men’s bathroom, and he burst inside in a flurry of fury. He practically punched open the door to the furthest stall, where his number had been written under ‘call for a good time’. His hand shook with rage as he took out a marker and crossed out the word ‘call’.

Next to it, he wrote ‘text’.

He knew he should cross out his number instead, but to be fair, he was going through a dry spell. A dry spell that had lasted the five years since graduating university. He’d take whatever sleezeball creeps responded to these kinds of messages at this point. Honestly, it beat genuinely wondering if he should count that tapeworm as the last time someone had been inside him, or wearing turtlenecks that were a little too small to get the feeling of being choked.

And it wasn’t like this was some shady nightclub, it was the Kiek in de Kök Fortification Museum. Who would look for hookups in the bathroom of a fortification museum? Someone super weird, probably. Or an old guy. Maybe a sugar daddy to pay off his student loans. Or a mysterious, rich tourist from a far off land, and they’d have a fling before parting ways forever.

Or, he’d end up talking to someone, getting along, then sending a picture of his face and not getting a reply. Or not even waiting for that and getting bored of his messages. He wasn’t good with people.

Still, with that little incident taken care of, he marched back outside to join his friends. Maybe they could have a normal day out now without being reminded of how sad and lonely his life was?

“I was just trying to help,” Jānis mumbled into his jumper when Eduard joined them.

“You have a really weird definition of ‘help’,” Eduard commented.

“We just want the best for you,” said Tomas, trying to play the peacemaker like he wasn’t equally as horrified at Jānis’ barefaced cheek and terrible attempt at helping his friend get laid. There was no helping Eduard and everyone knew it.

“You mean like how you went with me to the hospital to get that tapeworm removed? Oh wait!”

“We have our limits.”

“Yeah,” said Jānis, “and didn’t your cousin go with you instead?”

“Yes! And he livetweeted the entire thing! Now I’m known as that loser who was so lonely and depressed he ate raw herring until he got a tapeworm.”

“It’s not like we fed you the herring ourselves,” Jānis wrinkled his nose, “don’t blame us for your life being a mess.”

Before Eduard could even think of a reply, Tomas stepped between them again. “That’s all well and good,” he began like he’d stopped listening since he last spoke, “but I think we’ve left Feliks on his own for long enough, so we should go find him. Also I came here to look at a big fort, not talk about how lonely Eduard is. We do that enough.”

...

And in the hour or so it took the four of them to look around Kiek in de Kök, Eduard received two messages, both of which were dick pics.

“Let me see!” cried Jānis, craning his neck. Eduard pushed him away and held his phone out of reach. It wasn’t hard.

“If you wanted to see dicks, you shouldn’t have been born a manlet.”

“I’m dick-height sometimes actually. You’ve seen my boyfriend.”

Eduard nodded; he totally wasn’t jealous. “The skyscraper?” His boyfriend was so tall, and toned and handsome. He seemed like a complete dick, though, to everyone except Jānis. Eduard had met Adriaan a few times, and even just thinking about the guy made him softer than a saveloy. But around Jānis, he was gentle and caring, writing him poetry and sending him flowers from his own garden.

“Yup, and, oh, I love going up that elevator.”

“Slut.” Eduard got to looking at his dick pic collection. They were both very nice. Bigger than his, of course, but he was a bottom so he didn’t mind so much.

“Nice,” said Feliks, peeking over his shoulder, “what’re you gonna reply with?”

“Honestly? No idea.”

“Hmm, they’re not that big,” said Tomas, and everyone looked at him in bewilderment. “What? Can’t be more than, like… ten inches.”

Jānis looked at him. “If I wasn’t in a relationship, and we weren’t distantly related, I would be on that dick like-”

“Please,” Tomas begged, “don’t finish that sentence.”

“-like dust on Ed’s condom box.”

“Hey!” Why did everything always come back to roasting him?

“You can’t see the logo on it anymore. It’s like an old relic.”

“Like one of those nerdy boxes Tomas buys at the medieval fair,” said Feliks, “the old-worldy handmade ones.”

“You like medieval fairs too,” Tomas mumbled.

“I never spent €50 on an empty wooden box.”

“It had a nice pattern!”

“What do you even keep in it?”

“A second, smaller box.”

“And in that?”

“My copy of Space Jam.”

“You have shelves!”

“Well, I had to keep something in there!”

No one noticed Jānis reaching for Eduard’s phone until it was too late and he’d snatched it away. He typed as he dodged Eduard’s attempts to get it back, and it wasn’t until he’d copied and pasted a paragraph into both DMs that Eduard could finally see what he’d wrote:

I want you to take that dick and fuck me until I can’t walk and have to wheelchair myself through Old Tallinn to the nearest hospital and my bussy looks like the Ülemiste Tunnel. Nut in every hole then my face until I’m numb physically instead of emotionally.

“What the fuck, Jānis?”

Tomas craned his neck over Eduard’s shoulder. “You’ve gotta admit he’s got game. Just... Not sure what game he's playing.”

“I want to die.”

“You always want to die,” said Feliks.

Jānis shrugged. “Confidence is key.”

“Is this how you bagged the skyscraper?”

“God no. That would be terrible. I talked to him like a person.”

Eduard gave him a withering look, then frantically texted the first guy back.

I’m so sorry, my friend sent that.

“Dude,” Feliks told him, reading over his shoulder, “You couldn’t have sounded more like you were lying if you tried.”

“It’s the truth!”

“So?”

Eduard groaned.

He’d already texted back.

So you don’t wanna get Ülemisted?

Eduard did, he supposed. But it was way too embarrassing to admit that.

Feliks took his phone. “Maybe I do.”

“Hey!” He tried to snatch his phone back, and Feliks elbowed him.

What’s your name?

Gunner, and u?

Eduard.

Well, Eduard, what would you, not your friend, like me to do to you?

Eduard stared at his phone. He had no idea how to put the thoughts in his head into words, and even if he did, he’d be too scared to say anything.

But he had to try.

One sex please?

He fucking hated himself.

Haha I can arrange that.

Eduard didn’t trust people who spelt out their laughs in texts. It was a little menacing. Keysmash like the rest of us, asshole. At least it meant he was a top, he supposed.

You can arrange my insides.

It was an attempt at a flirt, albeit a horrible one.

“Isn’t it “rearrange”,” said Feliks.

“Well, if it’s “rearrange”, who arranged them the first time?”

“Fucking virgin.”

“I’m not! I’ve done many sex! I did one yesterday!”

“When?” asked Tomas, “we were playing Dungeons and Dragons all day.”

“Your dad was sucking me off under the table.”

“He died six years ago; you went to his funeral.”

“Yeah. I dicked him to death.”

Tomas squinted at him.

“Too far?”

“I just can’t take any claim of you topping seriously.”

“I can top!”

“You can top a cake, maybe,” said Jānis, “if you baked cakes instead of depression bread.”

“I don’t always bake depression bread!”

“You’re depressed therefore every bread you bake is depression bread.”

“I like kneading!”

“Why don’t you knead a pair of titties for once, Eduard?”

“Gonna knead your mum’s titties if you keep talking shit.”

Tomas swatted at him. “She’s dead too!”

“And?”

“How do you have friends?” asked Feliks.

“I don’t, really,” admitted Eduard, “you guys were a miracle.”

“I don’t know if I should be flattered you consider me a miracle,” Tomas told him, “Or offended you don’t consider me a friend.”

“I do. Miracle friends. Miracles are friendships and times I need to use a condom.”

“Maybe you can use some now,” said Jānis.

“Jānis! We’re outside!”

“You know what I mean.”

“Impromptu water balloons?”

“Ed doesn’t, cause he’s a loser,” said Feliks. “Anyway, any replies yet?”

Eduard checked his phone. The second guy had replied.

Fuk u for making me read all that.

Then a second later.

Still down 2 smsah tho.

That message doesn’t represent me. That was my friend.

Haha i beleev u!

If the guy’s dick wasn’t so big, Eduard would’ve blocked him for his atrocious spelling.

Tomas looked over his shoulder. “How did he manage to spell your phone number?”

“I’m sure he has a good personality.”

I wanna put my cids in your shitter and bread you like a whorse.

“Or… Not, but his dick is massive.”

“Ed, please be sensible.”

“No! I want dick!”

“He’s illiterate!”

“I’m getting my hole ruined by him, not giving him a spelling test.”

Tomas looked like he’d very much like to go home. Eduard wanted to go home too, but only so he could slap his nuts thinking about those massive dicks.

“Anyway, I got work to catch up on.” He gave a cough; “see you guys later.”

“You have an erection,” Jānis pointed out, tactful as ever.

“Nah, it’s just late. Time to hit the sack.” And then go to sleep.

“Which one?”

“Bye, guys!”

“Which sack, Eduard?”

Eduard dashed off before they could ask him again.

#aph estonia #APH Denmark #APH Australia #aph baltics #aph lithunia #aph latvia #aph poland #hetalia #Hetalia Fanfiction #effervescent

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loki-hargreeves · 6 years

Text

Loki Imagine, Illusions - Chapter 3

(chapter 2)

Your P.O.V.

''What's your story then?'' I asked Loki which seemed to surprise the Trickster. He raised his eyebrows and let my question sink in. ''I'm surprised you asked. I'm not the one questions are asked about'' he sighed and I knew what he meant. He was talking about Thor. ''But I did. I would love to know something about you since you know so much about me'' I replied as calmly as I could and I even tried to smile. There was no use in hiding since I was convinced I couldn't run away from him.

''We're very much alike me and you..'' Loki began softly and gazed at the flames. I nodded, interested to listen to him. It wasn't every day I got to sit down with someone from Asgard. Besides, I would feel better listening to him than sitting alone with my thoughts. At the moment, I didn't know myself. It hurt.

''I was raised in my brother's shadow, always getting compared to him, being forgotten because of him. My 'father' always looked up to Thor. There was a time when my mother was the only one who saw something in me'' Loki began telling me his story. As he spoke, I heard the pain and anger in his voice. It made me pity him but at the same time, I could relate to his words deeply.

''Then one day my idiotic brother went to Jotunheim although it was deeply forbidden. Jotunheim is the realm of frost giants-'' Loki got lost off the path of the story as he wanted to explain what Jotunheim was. ''I know, I've read about it'' I interrupted him slightly. Loki turned to look at me and he seemed relieved. ''So, as I was telling you, I knew it wouldn't end well. So I told Odin, our father. Once we were on Jotunheim, I discovered my true self. But I must admit, at first I thought they had cursed me'' He stopped so he could laugh at whatever had happened. Something told me that his laugh wasn't a happy one.

''Odin told me that I was Laufey's son. I was just..a stolen relic, a frost giant. It explained why I never was good enough for him'' Loki sighed and then he ran his hand through his hair. Then his skin started changing color, from a pale skin tone to a cold blue one. Slightly lighter patterns appeared on his skin and his bright green-blue eyes turned blood red. My heart started beating faster but I didn't run away. Actually, his form was mesmerizing.

But as quickly as he turned into his true form, he changed back to normal. I didn't get a chance to speak until he stood up and grabbed his spear. ''They're close'' He growled quietly and made me nervous. ''Who?'' I asked and stood up, hoping that we weren't in danger. Loki grabbed my wrist harshly, making me whimper but I shut up quickly. I could handle a little pain. ''Don't be scared, little one'' He smiled and then the same green light appeared on his fingertips. I looked at it in awe and noticed how his magic changed both of us.

Loki changed to a completely different person. His long, black hair was suddenly short and brown. His eyes turned brown as well and his skin got a tan. His clothes changed too. He had jeans on and a black jacket. I felt a tingly sensation all over me and I changed too. I couldn't see myself but my hair felt longer and I was dressed in a green jacket with black pants. I even had white gloves on my hands.

It was unreal to see magic happen in front of me. I could've stayed to adore his work for hours but we didn't have time. ''We have to go'' Loki told me. Even his voice changed. He sounded like a man from California. Then he tugged me with him and we started walking in the dark, cold woods. I was a little scared because he didn't tell me who was getting closer. Were we in danger?

Soon I realized we weren't so deep in the woods after all. I saw lights coming from houses. We were in one of the many neighborhoods in New York, obviously not in the center. Loki didn't care about privacy. He dragged me to someone's backyard and he headed straight to the backdoor. ''Lo-'' I tried to warn him that it wasn't a good idea but he shushed me. ''Be quiet!'' He whisper-yelled angrily, startling me at the same time.

I didn't bug as he used his powers to open the backdoor. I felt bad but I had to follow him inside. The house smelled like dinner. The television was on in another room. We were in a home bar, luckily without the owners. Loki shut the door quietly and then the magic vanished. We were back to normal.

''They can't find us here'' He laughed loudly, alarming the owners. My eyes widened and I looked at the door. ''Hello?'' A man called out from there, footsteps approaching. Loki rolled his eyes and turned around, ready to face whoever dared to walk in here. I gulped and sat down on a bar stool, getting a little dizzy again.

A man in his 30's walked in, worried eyes wide open as he saw Loki. I could see fear on his face. The man froze on the spot as Loki smiled widely. ''Well, seems like a mortal recognized me'' Loki spoke up first. The man glanced at me and then back at Loki. It's like he did recognize Loki but why was he afraid?

''Y-you..monster'' The man stuttered and tried to grab a beer from behind him. Oh no. As the man grabbed it, I felt alarmed. I was going to warn Loki but he was faster. The house owner attempted to hit Loki with the beer but Loki defended himself. By just raising his hand, he sent the man flying many feet behind until he fell on the floor with a loud thud. It was a wild sight.

Then my mind was tackled by something else. Why did he call Loki a monster? What had Loki done? ''Problem solved'' Loki shrugged and sat down next to me. He didn't seem bothered at all. My body got stiff and I struggled to keep myself together. This wasn't only frightening but it was mad. As I thought about the past two days for just a second, all the overwhelming feelings came crashing back.

Loki poured himself a drink and even one for me. That's when he noticed that I wasn't quite alright. ''Y/N? What is it?'' He asked me and put my drink down. I just stared at him silently, suddenly afraid of him. Had he actually helped those aliens here? Or was it as he had said, he had played a game against them? Was he telling me the truth about my origins?

As he looked at me, he narrowed his eyes. We were dead silent for a few seconds until I felt naked. It's like he could read my mind. ''I can, dear'' He replied which startled me. ''What?'' I breathed out and tears stung my eyes. Loki took a sip of his drink before answering. ''I can read your mind'' He was more clear. How great!

''I did read your mind earlier as well. I'm flattered you find me attractive'' He added blatantly, as I felt my face getting warmer. ''How is that fair?'' was all I could say at the moment. ''I'm the God of Mischief, I don't think about what's fair and what's not when it comes to my abilities'' Loki explained like it was obvious.

''Don't lose your mind tho, I'm not going to read your thoughts all the time'' He assured me but it didn't help. I grabbed the drink he had poured to me and put the cold glass against my lips, pouring the bitter liquid down with one try. Then I smashed the glass on the table and groaned, the alcohol burning my throat.

''So what are we hiding from?'' I asked Loki, wishing dearly that I could get drunk. I grabbed the bottle of whisky and poured myself another drink, letting the bottle be close because I would drink more. I wasn't the type of person to drink myself to a drunken state often but now it sounded amazing. ''My brother and his friends'' Loki replied with a sigh and poured himself more to drink.

''Cheers'' I raised my glass and took a big sip, almost hissing at how strong it was. Loki shrugged and took a sip as well, more smoothly than me. That's how we spent the next minutes, probably more like an hour. Silently we shared the entire bottle of whisky, slowly letting it get to our heads. It didn't seem to affect Loki as much as me. I assumed he had more experience with alcohol and self-control.

After way too many glasses of the toxic drinks, I slowly let go of my worries. I stood up clumsily and held onto the wall. ''Where are you going, little one?'' Loki chuckled, amused by my drunken state. ''I had..like..half a bottle of whisky. I'm sure there's a bathroom somewhere'' I told the Asgardian prince and tried to navigate my way to the bathroom.

He chuckled as I left the home bar. I walked to the other end of a plain corridor, groaning every once in a while. Finally, I found a bathroom. I got inside, locked the door and got on the toilet. I did what people did here, washed my hands and unlocked the door. That was a big mistake. The man Loki had thrown to the floor stood behind the bathroom door with a pistol in his hand.

A cold shiver ran down my back and I stared at the gun in horror. Although I was drunk, I realized how dangerous this was. The man looked serious. He even had blood on the side of his face, probably from landing on the floor so harshly. ''Get..out..of..my..house'' He growled madly and loaded the gun. A click sound echoed in the corridor.

My brains worked slowly so I didn't budge. I was horrified by the gun. The next second he pointed right at me, his finger on the trigger. Seeing the tip of the gun directed to me was like a nightmare. ''Hey-'' I tried to speak to him. My jaw was tense so I couldn't speak well. I was screwed!

''I said, get the hell out of my house you bitch! Or else I'll kill you!'' The man raised his voice and it hurt my head. I gulped and then raised my hands in the air. My eyes were locked to the gun. I was too afraid to think straight. Just as I thought he would truly pull the trigger, I saw the flash of a green light.

''I'm sorry to ruin your fun but I need her so..I've got to do this'' Loki interrupted the deadly situation. The man turned around but he was too slow. Just as he faced Loki, he got stabbed in the stomach. Loki clenched his jaw and gave the man a very angry look as he dropped his gun. Then he twisted the knife which made a disgusting fleshy sound. I felt sick to my stomach as I watched the man fall on his knees. Loki pulled out the bloody knife and let the man die.

''Oh..'' I gasped and felt how my legs went weak. I didn't sober up entirely but I didn't feel drunk anymore. I fell down on my knees as well and I stared in shock at the man who bled to death on his own floor. Loki put the knife away and looked at me coldly. ''Don't look so surprised, he was going to kill you'' He broke the silence. It didn't make the rotten feeling vanish from me.

I just witnessed a murder.

''You..You're a monster!'' I repeated the dead man's words. Loki obviously didn't like how I spoke to him. Hot tears streamed down my face and I sobbed loudly, not being able to hold it in. My entire body was trembling and I could barely breathe. ''You're a fucking monster'' I sobbed loudly and swallowed some tears.

''Don't call me that!'' Loki yelled madly and hit the wall, making a hole in it. I bit my teeth together hard and groaned, trying to think straight but it was impossible. Then I attempted to breathe in but the air got lost in my throat. My heart was beating faster and I knew what was going on. I was panicking. What I just witnessed was the cherry on top of this mess I now called my life.

''Y/N'' Loki said my name, now a little bit calmer but he was stilled beyond mad. ''I just saved your life! What's wrong?'' He grunted and walked inside the bathroom, stepping into the puddle of blood. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on breathing. I was inhaling short, harsh breaths and I struggled to breathe out. My chest felt tight and my stomach was upside down. The image of a gun pointing at me flashed in my mind, along with the sight of the man getting stabbed.

''Y/N-'' Loki attempted to communicate with me but my feelings crossed a line. ''SHUT UP!'' I yelled, all my anger evident in my broken voice. Then I screamed out in pain, hitting the floor with my palms because I couldn't breathe. ''Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!'' I repeated myself again and again, finally letting my emotions take control over me.

I thought Loki would be even angrier now. I even expected him to stab me and leave but I was wrong. Maybe he read my thoughts, I didn't care but he was quiet. Suddenly I felt his cool hand on my back, making my entire body tense up. I tilted my head slowly so I could face the man who had saved me in a cruel way. He looked angry and sad at the same time, like he understood my feelings but he didn't like that I yelled at him. Frankly, I didn't care.

''Who..am I?'' I coughed out the words that had choked me earlier. Loki's eyes narrowed again. Then he sighed and sat down beside me. Yes, he had just killed someone and yes, I was terrified but it didn't matter. I craved comfort and I would take it from anyone at the moment. So I leaned against Loki's strong body and rested against his chest. At first, he seemed surprised, almost clueless of what he should do. After a little while, he shut the door so we wouldn't see the body. Then he put his arm on my back and he rubbed it up and down, which actually helped me relax.

''Who am I, Loki?'' I whispered sadly as I managed to control my breath again. I stared at the tile wall in front of us and allowed my tears to roll down silently, whimpering and sniffling every once in a while. ''You're Y/N, from Asgard, raised here on Midgard. I'll take you home and you'll discover a completely different life'' He answered me calmly, all traces of anger gone. I hated to admit it but I believed him. I believed that I wasn't human although it felt wrong.

''I know what you're going through, little one'' He continued, calling me little one again which was actually nice. ''It's probably tearing you apart on the inside but it gets better'' Loki said that so quietly I barely heard it. But I did and I was sad he knew this pain. He stopped rubbing my back, now just resting his arm on me, giving me the perfect access to be next to him. It was better than being alone. Guilt washed across me now. ''I'm so-sorry I called you a monster..''I forced myself to apologize. Loki wasn't human, he saw a threat and got rid of it. ''It's fine'' He sighed but I didn't feel any less guilty.

''I think you should sleep. We're going to do a lot of things tomorrow'' Loki changed the topic and cleared his throat, almost as if he put on a tough face. It didn't feel great to seek for a bed in a dead man's house but we had no other choice. ''Are you going to sleep?'' I asked Loki and wiped my face with the sleeve of my jacket.

Loki didn't answer me. He just helped me on my feet and opened the door. Before I could see the body, he put his big, cold hand above my eyes and his other hand around my waist. Silently, he helped me get out of here without looking at the body. I was thankful for that, truly.

A little later we were in a bedroom. It had a big bed in the middle, a cup on the nightstand, a closet and some paintings on the walls. It smelled like coffee and deodorant. ''This should be fine'' Loki said as he shut the bedroom door. I nodded and threw my jacket on the floor. I considered taking off my pants but I didn't want to be half naked either. So I got in the man's bed and lied down. I did my best to block out the guilt of sleeping here.

''Good night'' I muttered tiredly and shut my eyes. ''Good night, Y/N'' Loki replied from the door. It's like he guarded me, or perhaps both of us to be more clear. I tried to sleep but I didn't feel tired anymore. Thoughts began circling in my head which wasn't good at all. It began with my parents telling me I was adopted.

The shock and the pain were like daggers in my heart. It was so crappy that George knew too but he never told me. Then I thought about Thor. Why did he know me too? Why did he know about Loki's plans? Could I actually be an Asgardian myth? Would I never see earth if I left? Did the man die slowly? Why did he have to threaten my life?!

Who knows how long I rolled in bed with my scary thoughts but after ages, Loki gave up his guarding work. I heard him taking off his armor and he crawled underneath the blanket. I swallowed a lump in my throat and pretended to be asleep. I met this man today and now we were sleeping in the same bed. He had killed someone and yes, it was traumatizing but I didn't hate him for it. He had done it to save my life but was it right?

''You should think less, doll'' Loki breathed out, causing my heart to skip a beat. I opened my eyes, realizing he was looking at me. He wasn't wearing his headpiece anymore. His black hair was a little messy and it almost surprised me how good looking he was.

''I can't'' I chuckled and looked away, not wanting to be that fool who grew feelings towards someone so quickly. I had to be independent and cold, right? ''You should sleep as well'' I was quick to add. It made Loki smile a little bit. The smile seemed genuine which was probably the first one I had seen on him.

''It's a little ironic that I fell asleep as a child thinking about you'' He told me softly. Once he put it into words, I giggled. Little did he know how many times I had read about him and his brother, falling asleep and dreaming about all kinds of Asgardian things. Maybe there was a deeper reason why I was so into it?

Loki smirked all of a sudden. ''I can still read your thoughts'' He reminded me quietly and shifted his position so he lied on his side, facing me better. ''Shit'' I cursed and looked away, but it didn't bother me too much. For some reason, who knows why, we started talking about random things. It surprised me how he made me forgot all the negative things, even the fact I just saw a man being stabbed.

My eyelids grew heavier as we talked and a little later, I was just humming answers to him. I closed my eyes and relaxed, sinking into the mattress. Loki noticed that I was almost asleep so he grew quiet. The last thing I heard before drifting away, was him saying mysteriously: ''You better get some sleep for tomorrow''

(chapter 4)

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pitviperofdoom · 7 years

Text

BNHA: Yesterday Upon The Stair, 21/?

Title: Yesterday Upon The Stair

Summary: Midoriya Izuku has always been written off as weird. As if it’s not bad enough to be the quirkless weakling, he has to be the weird quirkless weakling on top of it.

But truthfully, the “weird” part is the only part that’s accurate. He’s determined not to be a weakling, and in spite of what it says on paper, he’s not actually quirkless. Even before meeting All-Might and taking on the power of One For All, Izuku isn’t quirkless.

Not that anyone would believe it if he told them.

(Sixth Sense AU)

AO3

Izuku is becoming increasingly familiar with the taste of Gran Torino’s hardwood floors, and he’s not entirely sure how he feels about that.

He would have said mortified, because that was how it felt the first time a tiny old man sent him somersaulting straight into the floor, but it’s happened often enough now that he’s almost numb to it. He certainly doesn’t have to wonder why All-Might was so scared of this guy anymore.

Every trick that Ms. Shimura has shown him thus far, every feint and maneuver that’s gotten him through his previous fights, even the few tricks Todoroki has had the chance to show him, are next to useless against Gran Torino. He even tried a few cheap shots out of desperation, and… well. He’s not in a hurry to make that mistake again.

At least Rei doesn’t look so offended anymore whenever he hits the floor. She’s far too busy laughing at him, the traitor.

“You’re a scrappy little thing, that’s for sure,” Gran Torino remarks at one point, charitably giving Izuku a chance to catch his breath. “But scrappy won’t get you far if you won’t even use your damn quirk.”

“It’s not that simple,” Izuku says, gritting his teeth in frustration. “If I use it, I either break myself or you or both of us, and—” He’s flat on his face again before he can finish the thought.

Recovery Girl’s warnings are fresh in his mind as he focuses his power. He concentrates, remembering how he’d brought it out against Todoroki in the cavalry battle. It hurts, but his arm stays unbroken, and for a moment it looks like he’s finally going to land a proper hit.

Thud.

And there’s the floor again. There’s a lovely dent in the ceiling, though.

“Damn it, boy, if you were any more rigid, I’d paint you neon and use you for a Welcome sign!” Gran Torino tells him.

“Almost had it,” Izuku mutters, trying to hide the fact that the wind has been knocked out of him.

“Don’t flatter yourself, boy.” Gran Torino doesn’t move to let him up. “You’re problem’s plain as day to me. Maybe it is to you too, by now—you’ve stuck All-Might on a pedestal so high you need five stepladders just to reach it. And you’ve stuck your own quirk up there with him, haven’t you?” He leans closer. “You’ve shackled yourself, boy. And until you shake ‘em off, there’s only so much I can do.”

Gran Torino leaves him to chew over his failures (and clean up the mess they’ve made of his living room) and Izuku thinks.

Silently and aloud, he thinks. He’s new to hero training, to having this kind of quirk. But if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s thinking.

And slowly, as the aches fade and Rei lets him bounce ideas off of her, things slowly start to fall into place. He scribbles notes, cudgels his brain back and forth, changes the angle of his thoughts several times. That night, he finds a secluded alley to put his tangled thoughts into practice. He isn't worried; there isn't much crime in this area, and he's always had pretty good night vision. With Rei keeping watch for trouble, he flings himself against the walls, wrestling with the power inside him. It leaves him exhausted and battered the following day—more than usual—and still he has nothing to show for it.

“It ain’t your fault,” Torino tells him, which isn’t really a compliment at all—at best it’s a very charitable comment—but Izuku will take what he can get. “That power always came naturally to All-Might. I’d say that’s why his way of training ain’t working for you.” He barks out a laugh. “His body was all he had going for him. Didn’t stop me from making him spew, back in the day.”

Izuku winces in retroactive sympathy. He hums thoughtfully. “Um… Mr. Torino? Yesterday… I know you were sort of messing with me at the beginning, but you didn’t answer my question.” He hesitates. “Is that his name? Toshinori?”

The old hero considers him for a moment, then shrugs. “Ah, hell. You’ve been workin’ hard, I guess I can give you this one. Yeah. That’s his given name—Toshinori. And you didn’t hear that from—heh. What am I talking about. What do I care if he knows I told ya? I’d like to see him complain!”

They’re interrupted then by a package at the door.

In the end, it takes a microwave and an extremely mundane metaphor for everything to click.

Like a switch, really, if he’s going to be thinking in boring analogies from here on out. His upper limit is still only five percent of his power, but that five percent means a whole lot more if it’s spread evenly to every inch of his body.

How could he have been so dense? This whole time he’s been limiting himself, and limiting his new quirk—only for special occasions, only for certain parts of his body, only as an absolute last resort. But this—this feels right. This feels…

“Can you move like that?” Torino asks him, as One For All courses through him from head to toe.

“Good question,” Izuku grits out through clenched teeth. Too rigid, he thinks, and relaxes his jaw. He feels a cold poke from Rei’s finger on his arm, and carefully turns his head to look at her. “I think so. Maybe.”

Even over the hum of power and the pulse pounding in his ears, Izuku can hear Torino’s knuckles crack. “Would you like me to test that?”

He feels another smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. He wonders how he must look, with his teeth bared and lightning in his veins. “Please do.”

Torino quirks a grin back at him. “If you can maintain that, and still move with One For All coursing through you, that’ll be a pretty big step. So I’ll tell you what, kid.” He takes out a stopwatch. “You said you had questions, didn’t ya? Hold that for three minutes, and I’ll answer one. Anything your little heart desires.” The grin widens. “Land a clean hit on me, and I’ll answer all of ‘em.”

---

The kid grazes him. Grazes him. Torino dodges like he means it, and he still feels the brat’s knuckles skim against his face. It’s not a clean hit, but it’s something, and that means two things. One, Toshinori’s judgment is maybe a little better than he thought. Two, there may be hope for this kid yet.

They sit down to a breakfast of microwaved taiyaki. Even without looking up, Torino can feel those busy little eyes fixed on him. He sighs.

“Welp. I’m a man of my word. So.” He meets the kid’s eyes. “Pick a question, and ask away.”

Those eyes search his face again, watchful and wary, like their owner isn’t sure whether to believe him. How cagey has Toshinori been with this kid, if a simple offer to answer a question gets a look like that? “Is there anything you won’t talk about?” he asks. “I don’t want to waste a question on an answer you won’t give me.”

“I’ve got thick skin, kid,” Torino says dryly. “I said anything your little heart desires, and I meant it. Hurry up and ask.”

It seems to take a moment for the kid to decide to believe him. Finally, face carefully blank, he asks.

“Who is Shimura Nana?”

The taiyaki crumbles into three pieces in his hand.

What. No—no, that’s impossible. Toshinori never even told this kid his name, so how the hell—?

“You hear that name from All-Might?” Torino asks.

“Well,” the kid says. “He… I…” His hands slowly clench into fists in his lap. “Let’s just say—I don’t think that name was something he meant for me to hear.” He bites his lip. “I don’t know anything about her. I just know she’s important.”

Torino heaves a sigh. Toshinori slipped up, from the sound of it. Spoke her name and the kid overheard. Though Torino has to wonder why Toshinori mentioned her, and to whom. Eh, he was always a mumbler, just like the kid he picked. Might be the death of them someday, if they don’t get a handle on it.

Well. He’s a man of his word.

“She was a good friend of mine,” he says. He has to pause, there. It’s been years. Decades. It doesn’t hurt any less. “A damn good friend. We fought together, back in the day. Couldn’t tell you how many times she saved my life and I saved—” His voice catches. “We had each other’s backs, is what I’m getting at.”

“So she was a hero,” the kid murmurs.

“Huh. You really don’t know anything.” There’s no trace of deception on the kid’s face. “She wasn’t just a hero, kid. She wielded One For All before All-Might did.”

For a moment, he’s half convinced the kid is about to launch himself across the table. “She—what?” He’s gone dead white.

“Yup.”

“But she—I—” He clamps his mouth shut for a few moments, staring down at the table in front of him. His eyes are shining a little too much for it to be anything but tears. “You said she was your friend.”

“I did.”

“…She died, didn’t she.”

“…She did.”

“How—”

“Eat,” Torino says shortly. “Four minutes and you get another question.”

The kid frowns, looks ready to argue with him, but then his eyes soften. It’s all Torino can do not to snap at him for looking like that—like Torino’s somebody who needs his sympathy. “Yes sir.”

This kid has a long couple of days ahead of him.

---

“How did she die?”

“Killed in the line of duty. Not every hero gets to live long enough to look like me.”

---

“Do you know any details about… about how she died?”

“…If you want to ask me if I was there, then just say it.”

“…”

“I wasn’t. …No one was.”

---

“When did she die?”

“Decades ago. Can’t remember the exact year. Only time I ever drank in my life was to forget it.”

---

“Were she and All-Might close?”

It’s the following day when the kid finally gets to this question. Torino takes a little while longer to answer this one. “Maybe,” he says. “Maybe they might’ve been.”

“What do you mean?” Even looking away, he can feel those wide eyes boring into him, like this kid’s trying to read the answer off his brain cells before Torino has the chance to say it out loud. “Did something… happen between them?”

“No. Nothing happened. That was the whole problem.” Torino meets his stare. “There was never a chance. Kid, did he tell you how he used to know me?”

“He said you were his homeroom teacher, his first year at UA.”

“I sure as hell was,” Torino tells him. “And there’s a reason I was the one training him back then.”

He already knows the kid’s a sharp one. He can see the exact instant that the answer hits home, without any help from him. “You mean…”

Torino heaves a sigh. He’s been doing that a lot in the past couple of days. “I think he was a little younger than you are now, when she died,” he says. “She’d gotten him started, passed the torch, and… well. She dragged a promise out of me, that I’d train him if anything happened to her. Practically made me swear in blood. Sometimes I wonder if she didn’t know she was on her way out.”

The next training bout between them seems extra-vicious, extra-desperate. It seems the kid doesn’t like those answers. By this point Torino is sick of questions and sick of waling on this kid, and sharply aware that he’ll pick up bad habits if he only trains against one person using the same battle tactics.

“I think that’s it for practical training,” he says, as the boy staggers up and wipes his nose. “Any more, and both of us’ll start getting predictable.”

“I think I can keep going, but all right,” the boy says. “So what now, then?”

“What now? It’s time to do what you came here for. On-the-job training, remember?” Torino pushes down the old creeping thoughts and feelings, things that he tried to make himself forget years ago. He shows his teeth in another grin. “Get dressed, kid. We’re gonna do some villain clean-up.”

The boy carefully rolls a crick out of his shoulders. “So soon?” he asks.

“Whaddaya mean, soon?” Torino snorts. “Work experience was the whole point of this from the beginning, remember? You just needed a few days to play catch-up.”

“Right.”

“Hope you’re able to stay awake.”

“Huh?” The boy blinks owlishly at him, and the dark circles under his eyes stand out like bruises.

Torino sighs. “Never mind. Gear up, I’m calling us a cab.”

The kid joins him outside shortly, dressed for work and still looking like he hasn’t slept in weeks. Torino’s starting to wonder if he actively cultivates that look on purpose to throw people off. It hasn’t seemed to slow him down much during combat training. And if Torino weren’t as observant as he is, he would make the mistake of thinking the kid looks too tired to be paying attention. One look at his eyes, especially the way they never waver long from looking at Torino, tells him that thinking like that is the wrong way to go.

It’s… certainly not useless, if the kid’s doing it on purpose. A villain could make that mistake easily, and pay for it. If there’s one thing Torino knows, it’s the value of being underestimated.

“So where are we going?” his pupil asks.

“Heading back to the main Tokyo metropolitan area,” Torino replies. “Because—well. Can you think of why?”

The kid’s eyes narrow in thought. “Well… it’s more urban. More people there than here. It’s the kind of place I used to go to look for hero battles.”

Torino shoots him a glance. “Skirmish chaser, are ya? Why am I not surprised.” He had this kid pegged as a fanboy, but this confirms it.

“I didn’t… have a quirk, before One For All,” the boy replies quietly as the two of them get in the cab. “I figured my best bet for, um, being a hero without one, was figuring out strategies.”

Torino grunts in acknowledgment, chewing over this new bit of information. Toshinori passed the torch to another quirkless kid—also not surprising. “Well, you’re right, more or less. Higher population density means higher crime rate. In places like Shibuya, that means you have skirmishes happening every day of the week.”

“We’re going to Shibuya?”

“Yep.”

“By bullet train?” the boy asks. “For Shinjuku from Koufu, right?”

“That’s the one,” Torino answers. “Why do you ask? Worried about it getting dark?”

“ Not really, I have pretty good night vision.” The boy shrugs. “We’ll be passing through Hosu, that’s all. One of my friends is there.”

“Well, that’s all fine and good, but you just focus on where you are, got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

Torino regards him for a moment more, but says nothing until they’re getting out of the cab at the train station. “So. Any more questions?”

This gets a startled blink out of his tagalong, before a more thoughtful look crosses his face. “No,” he says at length. “Not for you, anyway.”

Sounds like Toshinori has a proper grilling to look forward to. “I see,” he says. “Makes me wonder why you bothered asking me all of this, instead of the man himself.” He shot a glance toward the kid. “He dodge your questions, or what?”

“Sort of,” the boy says, with a shallow little sigh. “I guess… I get the feeling there’re things he’s not ready to talk about.”

“Some of these ‘things’ are decades old, boy,” Torino told him. “An excuse like ‘not ready’ can only carry you so far.”

“I don’t want to press him,” he says. “I can relate.”

“So you press me instead?”

“I’m sure you could’ve shut me up if you really wanted to.”

Torino leads the way to the appropriate train, shaking his head. Hell, Toshinori. What on earth have you brought me?

As it turns out, the answer to that is “a typical teenager.” The second they’re seated on the train, out comes the smartphone. Torino’s eyes roll heavenward. Kids these days and their texting and memes.

He does look worried about something, frowning down at that bright little screen. Won’t do—Torino needs this brat focused if he hopes to teach him anything useful.

Before Torino has the chance to scold him for getting distracted, the kid’s spine goes ramrod-straight, and he looks around, wide-eyed and startled like he’s heard something. His mouth opens like he’s about to say something, but the train slams into an emergency stop before he has the chance, sending the kid face-first into the seat in front of him. Torino would normally be thoroughly amused by this, but the half-conscious pro hero that comes crashing through the train not three seconds later puts a bit of a damper on things.

---

There’s a hole in the train.

Izuku can feel the evening breeze wafting into the damaged car. Torino gives him an order, and Izuku forgets it the moment he hears it. Not that it matters—the old hero doesn’t stick around long enough to enforce it anyway.

“Rei,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Find Iida. Now.”

Her dark hair billows in a breeze of her own making, and she vanishes from his side without a sound. Izuku braces himself at the gaping hole in the train, pays no mind to the hapless employee shouting at him, and launches himself out into empty space.

---

There are quite a few things that Iida Tensei regrets.

He regrets not kissing his mother goodbye, that last day. He’d been in a hurry, with the Hero Killer on his mind, and he hadn’t thought he’d need to.

He regrets walking into that alley alone, with no backup and no one knowing he was there.

He regrets not fighting harder.

He regrets giving up, letting himself slip away on the cold, dirty ground with a slashed spine and blood in his eyes, before he could give his mother that kiss or tell Tenya to inherit his name.

And now, he regrets letting Midoriya Izuku walk away in the train station, instead of dragging him back to Tenya and saying Something is wrong, I don’t know what, please help me fix this.

He’d misread his little brother. He’d misread everything—willfully so, even. Maybe he knew, deep down, what was going through Tenya’s head. Maybe he knew exactly what was happening, and he’d been simply unwilling to accept that Tenya would really do something like that.

He’s just in it for the general experience. No one’s better for that than Manual.

He misses you. He’s upset and hurting. He’s finally taking Mom’s advice and Midoriya’s advice and taking the time he needs to heal.

But it’s not until the hero Manual turns to Tenya and says, “This is kind of awkward to ask, but… you’re after the Hero Killer, aren’t you?” that Tensei realizes just how badly he’s screwed up, how absurdly he’s fooled himself.

He’s an idiot. They’re in Hosu. Tenya picked one of the most boring options for training. He’s not taking it easy—since when has Tenya ever taken anything easy in his life?

What the hell else would he be doing here?!

Tensei has only a few minutes to panic and wonder before everything promptly goes to hell. There are creatures everywhere—those staring empty things, Noumu—villains are attacking, Hosu is in chaos, and Tenya slips away in the confusion.

“Don’t.” He trails after his little brother, pleading with him as if that’s going to make a difference. “Tenya, please go back. Don’t go looking for him. Don’t make that mistake.”

His words fall on deaf ears.

The dead are what give it away, in the end. Men like Stain are never as alone as they think they are, not with their victims always following, always watching. The other seventeen don’t have little brothers to watch over, so they follow their killer, waiting for the day that he can finally see them and hear them. Tensei hears them before Tenya reaches the alley. He hears their shouts, their warnings, their desperate urging and cursing. Stain must have found another victim.

If Tensei doesn’t do something, he’s about to find another.

“Tenya, stop this.” He stands in his little brother’s path, for all the good that will do. “I don’t want this. You know I don’t want this—”

Tenya walks through him as if he isn’t even there.

Tensei doesn’t recognize the hero that Stain is poised to kill. It’s selfish, but he barely sees them—he barely sees the seventeen pale figures that surround Stain and watch and wait. His little brother’s voice is ringing raw against the close walls of the alley, and Tensei’s desperate hands pass through him like mist.

“Please!” His voice is useless, almost drowned out by Tenya’s challenge. “Tenya, please! Don’t do this! You can’t fight him—just run!”

Stain shrugs his little brother off, knocking back his furious attacks with open contempt. His blades hum through the air, and Tensei hasn’t had a pulse for over a week but he can feel his heart in his throat.

“I know you,” one of the dead heroes whispers. “You’re Ingenium, right? We were wondering when you were gonna show up. Thought you’d maybe moved on.” Sad, blank eyes turn back to his struggling brother. “Guess you had somebody else to look out for, huh?”

Tenya loses his helmet in the scuffle, and the other ghosts wince at his young face.

“Poor kid.”

“Not long now.”

One of the dead heroes nudges her neighbor. “Hey, you’re good with kids, aren’t you? Think you can calm him down when he joins us?”

“I’ll try. They never train you for this.”

“He’s still alive!” Tensei snaps. Terror makes his temper short. “Don’t just write him off—he isn’t dead yet!”

The first hero that spoke to him looks at him with a face filled with sympathy. “How much of a chance do you think he stands?”

“One cut, and it’s over.”

Tensei’s eyes burn with tears.

Tenya is speaking again. “I got some advice from a friend,” he says. “He told me to do something useful. Something helpful. Something that matters to someone.” His hands curl into fists. “I can’t think of anything that matters more than this.”

“Damn it, no!” Tensei shouts. “That wasn’t what he meant, and you know it!”

“But you aren’t doing this to be useful, now, are you?” Stain drawls. His voice sends chills like crawling insects up Tensei’s back. “Otherwise you would have saved him already, don’t you think?” He nods toward the injured hero, whose murder Tenya interrupted.

“I’m here for my brother,” Tenya snarls. “Do you remember him, Hero Killer? You murdered him just a week ago.” Tensei has never seen his brother shake with rage before. “They said you ran off like a coward, and left him to die.”

“Thought you looked familiar.” Stain’s tongue flicks to one side. “Yeah, I remember him. It was nothing personal, you know. I wasn’t even trying to kill him.”

Tensei goes still.

“I meant to leave him alive. To fuel rumors. I figured he had backup coming anyway—imagine my surprise when no one came.” Tensei trembles, and he remembers sticky blood and cold brick and creeping darkness in his head. “Must’ve come after me on his own—another fake hero hoarding all the glory for himself. People like that always get what they deserve, in the end. I’m just here to help it along.”

“Shut up!” Tenya’s shout ricochets off the walls like a bullet.

“Tenya, don’t listen to him!” Tensei voice cracks, raw with desperation. “He’s baiting you—don’t fall for it! Just run away! Just this once! You have to live!”

But Tenya can’t hear him. Tensei wonders if Tenya would care even if he could.

“The hero Ingenium.” His little brother speaks the name in a snarl. Stain’s eyes narrow in amusement. “That was the name of the hero you killed. And it’s the name of the hero who’s going to take you down.”

Until this point, Tensei has been frozen in horror, feet rooted to the spot. But the sound of that name—of his name, now Tenya’s—changes that. He wants to stay—he can’t leave Tenya, not like this. But staying… staying means doing nothing. Staying means waiting for his little brother to die, watching it happen, letting it happen—

And he can’t. God help him, he can’t.

But if he leaves—if Tenya dies, and he’s not there—

One of the dead heroes sees his struggle, sees the way he looks desperately toward the streets beyond this alley. “Got somewhere to be, Ingenium?”

“I—I can’t leave him.” Not here, not with that monster. “He’s my little brother—he’ll die—”

“He’ll die if you stay, too.” The hero who tells him this speaks in a rasp, his throat laid open. “Not like you can do anything for him now.”

And that’s what does it, for Tensei. That’s what gives him the strength—or weakness—to turn away from Stain, turn his back on Tenya, and move.

It barely occurs to him that there may be no point to all this. It barely even enters into his mind that Midoriya’s assignment was nowhere near Hosu, and this could all be for nothing, and Tenya could die all alone while he’s gone.

Because there’s a chance. As long as Midoriya Izuku exists, there is a chance that he can get the message to someone and maybe, just maybe, he won’t have to regret letting his baby brother die all alone in an alley like he did.

The streets of Hosu are a battleground, battered by heroes’ quirks and torn apart by disfigured monsters. Evening darkens overhead, lit by city lights and spreading fires. Heedless, Tensei flies through it. Not long ago, he would have joined the fighting, thrown himself into protecting civilians and beating back the creatures that threaten them. But he is not a hero anymore—just a dead man who has nothing left to fear but seeing his family follow him too soon.

The living scream, the dead wail, and Tensei pitches his voice above the rest, calling the name of his brother’s friend. Maybe someone will hear. Maybe the dead will hear, and pass the message along—find Midoriya Izuku—find the only person in the world who can hear us—

A scream rends the air.

At least, “scream” is the best word Tensei can guess for it. Most human throats could never make a sound like that, quirk or no quirk. Tensei turns toward it, wavering, and finds himself looking at a black hole writhing in the middle of the street.

No one, dead or alive, will go near it—only those twisted creatures, Noumu, don’t seem to mind. The blackness thrashes, ever shifting like a living, angry thing.

Villain, Tensei thinks. Or Noumu. Some terrifying, destructive quirk, sending fear like driven nails into even Tensei’s dead heart.

Except he’s wrong. In the next instant the darkness shifts, and Tensei sees the very heart of it. He sees a pale face, and a child’s white nightdress.

Not living. Not angry. Dead, surrounded by Noumu and very, very frightened.

Tensei is frightened, too. The creatures are frightening, Stain is frightening, and Rei herself is frightening. But even if his heart no longer beats, even if his title of hero ended the moment his life did, there are some things that simply will not die. And deep in Tensei’s heart the desire remains, ever-burning and strong.

When faced with a lost, frightened child, Iida Tensei will never walk away.

Deafened by her screaming, Tensei plunges into the darkness and finds the little girl at its heart. He gathers her in his arms and carries her away, even as she twists and struggles and claws at him.

“It’s all right! It’s all right. It’s just me. Tensei, remember? You know me. You were teaching me how to sign.” He spells her name with his hands, and she stills in his arms. “I need your help, Rei. Where is Midoriya?” She squirms again until she’s free of him and facing him. Desperate hope fills him at the sight of her. He can feel himself fraying at the edges, torn apart by fear and worry and guilt, and he fights to keep himself together. “Is he close? Rei, please—please take me to him. It’s Tenya. He’s in danger—he’ll die—”

She makes no sound, but grabs his hand and yanks.

What else can he do now, but follow?

---

Izuku has next to nothing to go on. Iida hasn’t answered his messages since they last parted ways at the train station, two days ago. All he knows is that Iida is somewhere in this ward, and Stain’s victims always show up in alleys.

Well that’s useful, isn’t it. How many alleys could one city possibly have?

The ghosts won’t answer him. They’re too busy watching the carnage, or running from it out of some leftover sense of self-preservation that they don’t need anymore. At this point his only hope is Rei, and maybe, if he can find him—

“Midoriya!”

Or, Izuku thinks with a leaping heart, Tensei will find him.

His relief dies as quickly as it comes, when Tensei’s scream reaches him again. Iida’s brother catches up to him as he ducks into yet another empty alley, and when Izuku turns to greet him, he finds icy fingers clawing at him, driving him back against the wall. Rei is with him, her black eyes wild.

Tensei… doesn’t look like Tensei anymore. He looks like what Izuku imagines the hero Ingenium looked like, on the day he died. The armor is there—not sleek and polished chrome like it ought to be, but dented, grimy, and torn open. Everyone in Tokyo knows that distinctive helmet—few have ever seen it like this, caved in as if with a blade or an axe, smeared with blood around the slits nearest the mouth.

The sound of Ingenium’s breath rattles harshly in Izuku’s ears. It’s only through years of practice listening to voices like this that he can even understand the words.

“Save him.”

The brick wall is cold against his back. His blood feels colder. “Iida?”

“Stain—in an alley—he’s alone!” The helmet falls away, and Tensei’s ruined face chokes on blood as the ghost pleads with him. “I left him alone—he’ll kill him—help me!”

“Show me where,” Izuku chokes out.

Fear is an old friend, but he has never known terror like this. With One For All coursing through him, he chases Tensei through the ravaged streets, ignoring heroes and villains alike. He may as well be deaf and blind, trailing after his friend’s dead brother as he drowns in fear and runs.

The Hero Killer killed Tensei, and now he has Iida, and how much time has been lost? How long has Tensei been looking for him? How long would it take for Ingenium’s murderer to kill Iida?

Stain left him in an alley to die, like he was trash. Tensei died all alone, waiting and waiting for someone to help, but nobody came.

How long has Iida been waiting?

I’m coming, Izuku thinks as his eyes sting and his lungs burn. It’s not going to be like that, because I’m coming. I’m coming I’m coming I’m coming Iida hold on just stay alive hold on keep breathing don’t die don’t die don’t die!

He’s slow. Damn it, he’s so slow!

He chases Tensei’s back, and his terror makes him see Iida’s back instead—pale, washed out, bloody and spectral, blank white eyes, just one more dead face among thousands—

I won’t let it happen. I’m coming.

“There!”

They reach the alley, and Izuku sees the hunched figure of Stain standing poised over over a crumpled motionless body on the ground. His world goes red.

When it comes back, he stands on his own two feet, one fist smarting, and realizes two things as he faces the Hero Killer.

The first is that the alley is crowded.

Tensei and Rei are beside him or behind him, out of his line of vision, but of course the Hero Killer would be surrounded by ghosts. Izuku counts seventeen in all. Some of them are faces he recognizes from news reports, others are unknown to him. Some of them wear the wounds they died with, others do not. The one thing they have in common is death, at the hands of the sole living man who stands before him.

And Izuku’s eyes well up to the brim with tears, because the second thing he realizes is that Iida is not among them.

He’s almost afraid to look over his shoulder, but this is a fear that he is used to. Trembling, he forces his head to turn so that he can look down at the figure lying on the ground.

Iida stares back at him, wide-eyed and motionless and very much alive.

His eyes spill over.

No, not yet. He’s still in danger.

You’re both in danger now.

“Midoriya,” Iida’s voice is hoarse, as if he’s been yelling—has he been calling for help? “You—how?”

Izuku faces forward again, and finds the Hero Killer watching him through narrowed eyes. Izuku meets his gaze in the dim light from a far-off street lamp, and he could swear he sees a look of surprise flash across Stain's face, but it's brief enough that it could just be his imagination. “It’s okay, Iida,” he hears himself say. It’s not true in the slightest, but Izuku is no stranger to lying. “I won’t let him kill you.”

“Midoriya,” Iida growls, and Izuku has never heard his friend sound like that. “You need to get out of here, now!”

Stain cocks his head, almost birdlike in his curiosity. “Huh. You must be the friend he mentioned.”

“You must be the Hero Killer,” Izuku says, trying to match the Hero Killer’s frigid composure.

“The one who told him… what was it?” Stain’s tone is light and thoughtful. “Be useful? Do something that matters? That’s what he told me, before he attacked.”

Izuku feels cold. “W-what?”

“Go!” Iida shouts at him. “Don’t get involved! This is my fight!”

But Izuku does not. He doubts he could even if he wanted to, because now he can’t stop shaking.

It ought to be fear that makes him shake, but it isn’t. Fear is for keeping him out of danger, and since he’s already in danger, it’s useless to him. So instead, it hardens and twists up inside him until it feels less like fear and more like anger. He takes in a breath that hisses through grinding teeth.

“Can you move, Iida?” he asks. “We can make it back out to the main street if we’re quick.”

It takes his friend a moment to answer. “No. It must be his quirk—Midoriya, just go.”

“He cuts you, Midoriya,” Tensei whispers. “Whatever happens, don’t let his blades touch you.”

“Wait, he can see us?” one of the dead heroes murmurs.

“Get out of here, kid!” another shouts to him. “Get help!”

“I can’t,” Izuku says out loud.

“Yes you can!” Iida yells. “I told you, this has nothing to do with you!”

Tension grips his shoulders, running from his clenched teeth to his clenched hands.

“If you’re going to talk,” he grits out, at Iida or at the dead heroes crowding the alley. “Then tell me something I can use.”

“It’s not just cutting!” another hero pipes up. “He swallows the blood! That’s how he gets you!”

“I don’t want you rescuing me!” Iida yells. “This is my fight! Do you understand me? He killed my brother!”

And it happens again—the anger wells up and turns his thoughts black. It makes him cruel. “If you don’t want me rescuing you,” he says, in a quiet voice that chills even him. “Then you can come over and stop me whenever you feel like it.”

Iida goes quiet. Stain laughs out loud. The blade in the murderer’s hands twitches as if it has life and eagerness of its own. “You see what I have to deal with,” he says. “I have a duty to kill these men.” Izuku blinks, looks further into the alley, and sees another hero sitting slumped—wounded but alive—against the wall. Stain steps forward, tongue flicking out as if tasting the air. “If you wish to stand in my way, then so be it. The weak shall be culled either way. So what will it be?”

Izuku curses himself silently. He should have found a pro to come with him, instead of rushing in blindly like a fool. Even if it was hard to explain, he could have come up with some excuse or lie. Too little too late, now.

Buy time, he thinks. Buy time, and call for help. He slips his phone out of its pouch, behind his back. He knows that screen like the back of his hand.

“Stop it!” Iida shouts at him again, and the ugly anger roils and twists within him, threatening to throw him off. “Run away, Midoriya! I told you, this has nothing to do with you!”

“Hey Iida,” he says, with a level of calm that he does not feel. “If you’re still looking for ways to be helpful, you can stop talking any time.”

“Midoriya—!”

His head whips around, eyes scalding with unshed tears. He can almost see the words die in his friend’s throat as he spits out his anger like venom. “I said shut the fuck up, Iida.”

A low chuckle reaches his ears, and he turns his burning eyes back to Stain. “Very well, then. I won’t say no to another sacrifice.”

“You don’t have a choice,” Izuku replies, and his voice is calm but cold. The cajoling and affability that he used with Shigaraki will be useless here; this is no man-child that will bend an ear to flattery. This is a murderer with an agenda. “You’ve got no good reason to kill anyone in this alley.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Stain answers coldly. “I don’t expect a kid like you to understand what I have to do. This world is rotten with false heroes that are only in it for the paycheck, or the spotlight, and yet the people treat them as idols. It’s time they learned what true heroes ought to look like.”

As Stain talks, Izuku takes the time to send his message and palm his phone back into his pocket. “What, like you?” he asks. He looks for Rei, but she’s vanished from the alley.

Another laugh. “No. I’m the necessary evil—I cull the weak and the greedy, until only the worthy remain. Selfless heroes, who follow All-Might’s path. Who aren’t slaves to their own egos. Those are the only heroes worth existing.”

“Yeah, I don’t really care,” Izuku answers.

The alley goes dead-quiet. Iida is silent. Even the ghosts say nothing.

Stain’s eyes bore into him. “What?”

“I don’t actually care about why you’re doing this,” Izuku replies, and suddenly it’s a fight to keep the trembling out of his voice. “It doesn’t really matter to me, because… from what I can parse out, what you’re doing is killing people who save lives, just because you don’t like their reasons for saving lives.”

“Ah… A hero fan, are you?” Stain’s blistering scorn lashes at him. “A bright-eyed up-and-comer who thinks they can do no wrong. So naive.”

“I’m naive?” slips out before Izuku can stop it. His fists ache. “Y-You’re imagining a world where all heroes are perfect and never do anything for their own reasons! How is that not naive?”

“That’s what separates the real heroes from the rest of these pathetic phonies!” Stain snarls. “A proper ‘hero’ doesn’t act for his own benefit.”

“Why not? You do.” Izuku can tell he’s starting to get under Stain’s skin. He’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not. “Take now, for instance. You benefit from doing this because you get to pat yourself on the back without actually doing anything helpful.”

“...What.”

“I said you’re full of shit,” Izuku says, a little louder.

“You little brat!” Stain snarls, but Izuku almost doesn’t hear it over the sound of ghostly laughter echoing in the narrow alley.

“Midoriya, get out of here!” Iida’s voice has turned from angry to pleading.

“Your reasons don’t make any sense to me. Sorry.” His hands curl into fists again, and he meets Stain’s eyes with a heated glare. “You talk like having selfish reasons makes people evil, but saving lives will always be a pure good.” His voice cracks, but he forges ahead. “And anyone can do it. It doesn’t matter who they are, or where they’re from, or what they’ve done, or why they’re doing it. All they have to do is say ‘no.’ All they have to do is say, ‘This is wrong.’” His lips pull back, and it feels more like baring his teeth than smiling. “Anyone. Even thieves and bullies and liars and cowards.” He steps forward again, directly between Iida and the Hero Killer. His eyes are dry. “So this is me, saying ‘no.’ So help me, if you lay another hand on them, I will break it.”

Stain’s eyes widen. The smile on his face shows a few more teeth than before. “Well. You might just be worth keeping alive after all.”

---

My little brother needs help, he needs help, he’s in danger he needs help help help HELP HELP

There’s no one else, only ghosts, only enemies only monsters

black monsters with rolling eyes and they can’t feel I can’t feel I dig deep, deeper, and deeper but there is nothing on the surface and nothing below and they are full of nothing nothing n o t h i n g

Someone! Anyone! He called for help! He called for help, he called EVERYONE for help but

nobody came

nobody answered

please

somebody

anybody

There!

There he is! I’ve found him! I know him! My little brother knows him! He was cold before but now they’re friends and he

He sees it. He sees my little brother’s call for help. He’s stopped.

Yes! Read it! Answer him!

Help him!

He won’t. He doesn’t know. He’s taking too long! My little brother will die if he takes too long! Hurry up!

I reach in. He does not hide behind the cold anymore and I feel it—worry confusion heart pounding why why why what does this mean what is he trying to say—

He’s saying he needs help, stupid! He’s asking for help!

i dig deeper, claw through fog, past the confusion and the what-why-where until—there!

There’s worry and worry means fear, it means there’s danger everywhere, what does this message mean, what if he’s there, what if he’s in trouble what if he needs help what if he gets hurt what if he dies what if what if what if—

I grab his fear before it can get away.

I pull.

---

The message is a perplexing one, to say the very least. It’s practically nothing, just an address not far from where Shouto is now. He stares at his phone, confused—why would Midoriya send this to him? The city is a battleground, so why—?

Is there something here?

Is he asking to meet up?

Is he—

What if—

All at once, his thoughts slam to a halt, and the fog of confusion is ripped to shreds in his mind. Shouto stops in his tracks, nearly dropping his phone as he chokes on perfectly good air and fights against the bile creeping up his throat. Fear is a familiar thing. With a father like Endeavor, it is never far away. But this fear—it’s not the kind that makes him freeze, or that makes him want to turn and run. No, the pulse in his ears is like thunder as his heart sends terror pounding through his veins, chasing every other thought from his head until a single question remains.

What if he’s in trouble?

“Shouto, pay attention!” Terror walls him off from his father’s voice. “Stop looking at your phone and look at me!”

And in the end, he does turn and run, but not to flee. Without another thought, Shouto whips around, points himself in the direction of the address in Midoriya’s message, and flies. His feet pound the pavement, leaving hot asphalt and patches of frost wherever they touch. Fear sends icy claws spidering up and down his spine, far colder than his quirk could ever hope to be.

He doesn’t know what he’s running toward. He only knows that there is danger everywhere, villains and Noumu and rampant destruction, but none of it is more terrifying than the thought of his friend in trouble.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #deku sees dead people #fanfiction #tales from the pit

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paige-writes · 7 years

Text

Behind the Mic (chapter 2)

A voltron college!au fic between Shiro and Lira (OC)

Lira felt dead on her feet. Morning classes were always a hassle and made her and just about 98% of the school feel like zombies. Kudos to the rest who actually liked getting up at 7 am.

After walking into her creative writing class, Lira trudged up the steps to the middle section of the seats. The front was where basically everyone got picked to answer questions, and in the back you could barely hear the professor speak, so the middle was the only option in Lira’s case. After choosing a random row, Lira sat down as if a weight was strapped to her shoulders. She laid her head down in her arms in an attempt to get a few extra minutes of sleep before class started, but was soon woken up by someone tapping her shoulder.

Obviously annoyed, Lira turned her head to the side to see this perpetrator, only to bolt upright when she was faced with the same guy she bumped into yesterday. Since when was he in this class!? Okay, calm down Lira. He’s just a good looking guy you were just ogling after he made you fall. No big deal. Just….talk.

“H-Hi.” Okay, you stuttered.

“Hey,” he replied. “Did I wake you?”

“No, n-not at all! I was just resting a bit….” Lira tapped her hands on the table, thinking of what to say next. “So….what’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing. Just wanted to return these.” Lira stared at him confused until he reached into his bag and pulled out the same bag of mini Oreos that she’d dropped yesterday. “You, uh, left them behind, and I didn’t want to throw them away. I figured I’d give them to you since we’re in the same class.” He slid the package to Lira, who hesitantly took it in her hands. He….actually saved them for her. “Thank you,” she said. The guy smiled in response. “I’m Takashi Shirogane, by the way. You can call me Shiro, though.” Lira found herself smiling back. “Lira Evans. Nice to meet you.”

The opening of the classroom door signaled that the teacher was here. She began class by saying that everyone was to write a poem. “Since we have been on the topic of poetry for the past couple of weeks,” she said, “I wanted you all to try your hand at it yourselves.” There was a synced groan from the students that the professor ignored. “Your poems will be due next Friday and everyone will be presenting them.” Another groan from the class, one that Lira heavily emphasized. One thing that was worse than talking to one stranger was talking to multiple of them. She was never good at it; her throat always dried up, her hands would get clammy, and she would stutter tremendously. It was easy to avoid up until now when it was mandatory.This was going to be loads of fun.

Shiro noticed Lira’s look of distress and gave her a pat on the shoulder. “It won’t be that bad,” he assured. Lira sighed. “I hope so.”

“If you need help we could always work on these poems together.”

Lira felt her ears heat up slightly after he said that, because the one thing that romance films have taught her growing up was that working on schoolwork together meant ‘study date’, and study dates didn’t really include a whole lot of studying in those films. Lira instantly shook her head. “I-I think I can do this on my own. Thank you, though.”

The teacher gave the rest of the period to the students so that they could brainstorm their poetic ideas. Most of them sat around and did nothing while the rest got to work. Lira stared at her blank notebook, then to Shiro who was doing the same. He was twirling his pen in his hand, in complete focus. Sighing to herself for what felt like the umpteenth time that morning, Lira reached into her backpack and retrieved a leather-bound photo album and started to look through it for some sort of inspiration. Shiro noticed her movements out of the corner of his eye and switched his gaze to her, then to her album. There were various photos ranging from nature to antiques at a pawn shop and everything in between.

“You’re a photographer?” he asked, pointing to Lira’s album. Lira nodded, then explained how she was an art major in the photography field. “I do draw a little from time to time,“ she said, "but photography is what I’m mostly good at. There’s just so much to capture in one frame. Even a simple photo of a leaf could have a special meaning, although in my opinion the perfect photo is all about angling and precision. You have to hold your camera just right at a certain degree to get a perfect shot, and even after that there’s always the option of the right filter and—” Lira cut herself off when she saw Shiro staring at her, his cheek resting in one of his hands with a smile plastered on his face.

Heat quickly rose to Lira’s pale cheeks. “Oh no,” she said, making Shiro’s smile disappear into a puzzled expression, “I’m sorry, I’m rambling again. God, this always happens!”

“No, no,” Shiro replied, his smile returning. “Don’t be sorry, Lira. You’re passionate about photography, something you love. It’s cute that you like to talk about these things so openly.” Cute? Shiro thought it was cute? Well that was certainly one way to put it.

"I’m….flattered. Usually someone would tell me to stop talking by this point, but you don’t seem to mind at all.” There was a brief silence, both students not knowing how to continue this awkward conversation. It ended up finishing with just that, and the two resorted to writing their poems.

“Bonne après-midi my fellow listeners at Altea University! Welcome back to another daily segment of ‘Advice Corner’. I’m your host, A. It’s that time in the semester again where everyone crams and gathers in the library. Yes, it’s almost time for midterms. Grab your textbooks and your coffee and get studying! And if any of you need to vent or get advice, just send in a call and I’ll listen. Oh, and it looks like we have our first caller. Good afternoon fellow listener. How can I make your day feel A-Okay?”

The line was silent for a second before a male voice broke through.

“Uh, hi A. Man, these midterms are gonna kick my ass. Got any advice on how to not be too stressed?”

“Of course. It’s true that stress can’t be relieved altogether, especially with tests, however there are a few ways to clear your head in these trying times. Go outside for a breather if you feel cramped inside or are in need of a break. Listen to a calming soundtrack made for studying for concentration. Maybe take a hot shower or drink a warm beverage afterwards so that you feel more at ease. I know that when I’m stressed, I always put on my favorite fuzzy pajama pants.”

“Ah, these sound like good ideas. Thank you, A.”

“No problem, mon amie. Glad to help. Okay, next caller!”

Lira stretched in her chair, a strangled noise leaving her throat. Another successful segment, and now it’s back to classes.

As Lira left the office building, she heard her phone vibrate multiple times in her bag. Oh yeah, she’d forgot to silence it before starting the segment. Taking it out while she walked back to campus, she saw that it was yet again a text from Anita, and this time she made a group chat with Pidge included.

Art Nerd (Anita): liraaaaaaa

Pidge(on): llllliiiiiirrraaaaa

Art Nerd(Anita): answer ur phone dammit

Art Nerd (Anita): if ur asleep then wake uuuuuup

Pidge(on): pls dont be dead liraaaaaaa

Not-So-Social (Lira): Guys im fine. Just busy.

Pidge(on): OH MY GOD SHE LIVES

Art Nerd (Anita): PRAISE

Not-So-Social (Lira): Yes yes im alive, but what’s with the group chat? Usually you guys don’t make one unless….

Not-So-Social (Lira): oh no

Not-So-Social (Lira): Guys. This better not be what I think it is.

Art Nerd (Anita): sHIT! pidge shes onto us!

Pidge(on): welp. might as well come clean then. lira, the three of us are going out on Saturday. and when i say three, i mean THREE. not three and then one chickens out at the last minute.

Not-So-Social (Lira): Hey!

Art Nerd (Anita): shes not wrong tho. lira, we know u dont like interacting with other people, but at least spend time with us! we feel bad that ur holed up in ur apartment all the time and god knows we dont want u looking like casper the ghost. hell even pidge leaves her computer once in a while, even if i DO have to drag her away.

Art Nerd (Anita): and i mean it both metaphorically and physically

Not-So-Social (Lira): She goes out with you because you’re dating

Art Nerd (Anita): point taken

Pidge(on): COMING BACK TO OUR INITIAL TASK, it’d be nice to have some fun before we all have to hibernate and cram, and it’s not like we’re going to one of those sketchy frat/sor parties. we’ll go somewhere that’s nice and doesn’t leave us smelling like tequila and pot.

Not-So-Social (Lira): I’m pretty sure I don’t have a choice, but not smelling like tequila and pot sounds great in my book. Fine, send me the details when you guys can.

Art Nerd (Anita): YES

Pidge(on): we knew you’d come around. we’re irresistible >:)

Not-So-Social (Lira): I feel like I’m gonna regret this….

**chapter 3 coming soon!**

Translations

bonne après-midi (French) - good afternoon

mon amie (French) - my friend

#voltron #voltron fic #my writing

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