#two brunets and two blonds on either side but where did HE come from huh | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ironmandeficiency · 3 years

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falcon, falcon, goose!

pairing: sam wilson / reader

word count: 3547

summary: there were reports of geese leading people to their soulmates spanning centuries, and it seemed like a cool concept, but why did it have to coincide with you coming out of your writing slump?

warnings: cursing, geese, dumbassery, implied happy au where the avengers get along, iw and endgame who?

a/n: this is an older piece i wrote a couple years ago, decided to brush it up and repost it. and the reader works for snl bc why the hell not? keep in mind that the original was written before everything went to shit w iw & endgame. posted from mobile yet again yall what is wrong w me

it was a sunny day outside, and deciding that you had been cooped up for far too long, you brought your laptop to the park a couple blocks from your studio apartment.

being a writer for saturday night live wasn't always so peachy, what with the lack of a social life outside of your co-workers and constantly explaining your job to confused relatives. you had been in a slump for the past couple weeks, the fact most of your sketch ideas not making the cut for the next episode continuing to throw you off your rhythm.

this week, you were going to change that. Your headphones were playing your concentration playlist full volume and you were hyped to the max. with your laptop on the picnic table in front of you and a warm cup of tea beside it, you were ready to blow the producers away with your next idea.

"honk! honk!"

you felt something nudge your leg, but you were too engrossed into what you were typing to care. after getting through a few more lines, it happened again.

"honk! honk! honk!"

you couldn't hear the sound but the feeling on your leg got a little bit rougher, more demanding. you moved your headphones to the side for a minute and took a moment to look around you. there was no kid running to get their ball back or any squirrels nearby that dropped a nut.

strange.

but you put your headphones back on, trying to keep your groove alive while hoping the interruptions are finished.

"HONK! HONK! HONK!" the goose honked louder, pecking at your leg harder than it had earlier.

you were getting frustrated and a little pissed. the creativity was flowing through your veins for the first time in what felt like ages and this — whatever it was — decided that today was the best day to annoy you.

you kicked your legs out with a strange flail and when you came into contact with something large and solid you nearly screamed.

"ow! motherf- oh my god!"

standing on the ground beside your table was a goose. it honked yet again with impatience (geese could do that?) and nipped lightly at your thigh closest to it. looking to the pond nearby, it was nearly an entire gaggle of the damned things.

so here was this goose honking at you and nipping at you like you were supposed to know what the hell it wanted from you.

"i don't have any bread, dumbass. go find someone else to bother." thinking it would leave if you ignored it, you turned away and continued your work.

"HONK! HONK!" it continued to honk and decided to peck you before flapping its wings, landing itself on the table next to your computer.

"get outta here, ya damn goose!" while you were trying to shop it away, it expertly evaded you. "go! shoo! leave me alone!"

it just stayed over on the bench, expertly dodging your attempts to get it to leave.

a few people nearby had heard your altercation with the infernal bird. one of them was an older gentleman that laughed as he sat across from you, the mirth in his eyes glinting as you give him a sarcastic side eye while trying to deal with the current issue.

"that bird won't leave you alone, you know." At his voice, the goose calmed down and waddled a few feet away from your arm's reach.

that was the first time the thing had been seemingly calm since he showed up at your little table.

"what do you mean he won't leave me alone?"

he pauses, part of him enjoying the irritation in your tone. he remembers someone talking to him like he was to you many years ago, and it made his heart smile at the idea of repaying the favor. "have you ever read about soulmate geese?"

"hey we're gonna go for a run, wanna join?" steve’s offer was given with a smirk. ever since reuniting with bucky, the two supersoldiers found so much humor in doing laps around sam every time they went out jogging.

it annoyed the shit out of him, the "on your left" comments from steve and the newer "on your right" jabs from bucky, but it also pushed Sam to work harder during his runs. ultimately he knew his non-enhanced body didn't stand much of a chance beating them, but he enjoyed when he was able to close the gap between their times just a little bit.

"sure, just gimme a few to eat breakfast and I'll join you guys." the blond nodded and turned back to the elevator, having woken up far earlier than sam and therefore already ate.

he hummed otis redding as he laid the bacon flat into the pan, shoulders moving along with his created rhythm while changing the grounds in the coffee filter. this was how he spent most of his mornings, barring the occasional hangovers and missions where he couldn't afford the distraction.

he ate, got dressed, and told FRIDAY to let bucky and steve know he was ready to go. h had his water bottle in hand, giving his body a pep talk in preparation for the run. they met in the common room and soon, the trio was off.

"on your left!"

"on your right!"

"oh, come on!"

he knew it was gonna happen, but for some reason it felt like it happened sooner than normal. either they were trying really hard to mess with him today, or he was off his game. but regardless, he pushed his body harder than he probably should have because when there was something obstructing his path, he didn't pause. no, he charged it straight on through and fell hard.

steve and bucky had seen this from a distance and immediately rushed to get to their friend.

sam rolled onto his back, exhausted and now in terrible pain from the fall. he closed his eyes and just let it all sink in. when he opened his eyes at the sudden foul smell flooding his nostrils, he could feel the palpitations, thinking he was about to have a heart attack.

"holy shit!" sam sat up like a rocket despite the way his body was throbbing from the fall.

the goose stared at him curiously and turned its head toward the pounding footsteps from the approaching brooklynites.

"sam! What happened?" steve was concerned, inspecting sam while bucky noticed the bird. The brunet bent down to meet the goose eye-level and was somewhat surprised that it didn't run away at the close proximity.

"did you trip the dumbass? was it your fault sam landed on his face? Huh, little guy?"

"honk! honk!"

"i thought so. good job, man." bucky pats the animal on the head gently before turning to help steve get sam off the ground.

"nothing’s broken but there's probably a sprain, can't really be sure until we get to cho." sam and bucky lift their friend from the pavement and they have no problem supporting his weight.

they began the walk back to the tower in silence. well, almost silence. there was a faint pitter-patter of tiny, webbed feet behind them that sam and bucky weren't paying attention to.

steve noticed the goose slowly waddling behind the trio and looked at sam with a smile. sam responded to steve’s happy face with a glare, not enjoying any of the situation he found himself in.

"look behind us, guys."

both men took turns looking behind them and see the goose waddling behind them patiently. sam wasn't particularly happy about the culprit from moments before trailing behind him, but bucky thought it was hilarious.

"do you know what this means?"

sam rolled his eyes because he thought the blond was about to make some sort of poetic comment about one thing for another.

bucky had paused to think about the implications of a random goose for a moment before gasping. "dude," bucky nudged sam softly, being conscious of his friend's injuries. "you’re gonna meet your soulmate, man!"

"a soulmate goose. man come on, are you out of your mind?"

"steve got his goose back during the war, i think we know enough about it."

sam had only heard vague reports of soulmate geese throughout his life, but now that he thought about it, it did make sense. the goose showed up randomly in the middle of his routine, completely throwing him off, and was now refusing to leave him alone.

"well if this is my soulmate goose, then somebody’s gotta tell tony about our newest avenger." they laughed at the implication, viciously eager to witness tony’s reaction to the newest resident of avengers hq.

it has been three days of dealing with your goose, and you were now teased at work as “bird brain”, walking into your office to see several loaves of bread covering the desk. your goose, that you had named piper once you got home, was excited at the prospect of more food, but you planned on donating most of the bread to local shelters, only keeping a couple loaves for the house.

the guest host that week was mick jagger, and he had emerged into the room “i dream of jeanie” style, startling both you and piper, who honked at him in irritation.

it was time for you to work on the song for your little sketch with him, and you had only two more days before performance night (it was thursday) to finish writing it. after settling down and getting into the right mindset, the writing process had begun.

"alright let's see," mick murmured. "let’s all go to the picnic, let's all have a drink. what rhymes with 'drink'?"

you thought for a moment and said quietly, "think?"

you weren't prepared for the absurd response you received from the man, his accent making him round mean as he barked out a loud "NO!" with an unnecessary hand gesture.

piper just about lost it. she was honking and flapping around your office in a tizzy (but staying away from mick because the man was seen as a stranger she wasn't comfortable with).

you racked your brain for another solution, something else to rhyme with 'drink' and you eventually found it: "sink?"

mick thought about it for a moment before replying with a much lighter "yes!" also paired with unwarranted pointing.

‘motherfucker, is this how you write songs?!'

thursday and friday came and went, and soon it was time for your piece to be performed by mick. du to an accidental ankle twist someone else suffered, you were forced to perform a skit live for the first time in your career. it would have been great, but there was one teensy problem: piper blatantly refused to leave your side when it was time to perform, and she would honk and bite anyone that tried to keep her from you onstage.

even poor bobby, who she had grown fond of, was taking the brunt of it. she was not allowing you to be more than a couple feet away from her, and it was almost endearing if you weren't being broadcast on national television.

apparently, piper would also be making her debut appearance on saturday night live tonight as well.

saturday had arrived, and it was sam’s day of rest. he spent the day doing the bare minimum, eating junk food and watching almost everything on netflix he could find.

he didn't stray too far from tradition, not really. it was just that now he had a goose accompanying him the entire time, honking at this and that and eating occasional pieces of popcorn that sam didn't want to share.

he didn't mind his feathered companion, he was actually quite fond of his goose at this point. whitewing (not to be confused with redwing) was the most calm goose any of them had seen, no biting or nipping and especially no honking at ungodly hours of the night.

steve was perplexed. "Are you sure whitewing hasn't done anything bad? no waking you up at night or bites when you don't feed him soon enough?"

sam would chuckle and shake his head, proud to have such a calm goose. "why are you so keen to see him misbehave? aren’t all soulmate geese like this?"

"for lack of a better word, most geese are assholes. i don't know how whitewing is so well behaved," steve balked at the very idea of all geese being so mellow and decided it was story time.

steve’s goose from the century before was the most rambunctious animal anyone had ever seen. he recounted the first and several occasions following where his soulmate goose, jimmy, fended off the blond man's alleyway attackers.

sam was extremely grateful that whitewing had less feral and goose-like tendencies. whitewing was extremely well behaved and had an almost human way about him, the way he honked in reply to sam or the rest of the team when they talked to him.

it was late in the evening when clint decided to plop down onto the couch and flick the channel to nbc, where tonight's host was mick jagger.

"why are we watching this?" sam was enjoying his sitcoms before the other bird man had showed up.

"i haven't watched it in ages, plus mick jagger is on tonight."

"alright, whatever you want."

the intro played like usual, and whitewing was perfectly complacent. they laughed in the right places with the occasional honking from the bird, and everything was great.

"hey man, look!" clint interrupted, keeping sam from being able to hear the punchline. "i think that's a goose!"

"why is there a goose? The skit has nothing to with-"

sam and clint seemed to come to the same realization at the same time as whitewing, the goose beginning to honk incessantly. he was going absolutely berserk, flapping his wings and hopping off of sam’s lap and onto the coffee table, occasionally pecking at the tv where he saw the other goose.

he was going absolutely bonkers.

"whitewing! whitewing, no! calm down!" sam scrambled to calm down his goose, but he was having none of it. the whole entire skit, whitewing was honking and flapping and being a general nuisance.

he found his soulmate.

whitewing kept at it until the screen went to a commercial, his soulmate off of the screen.

"y’know," clint spoke around a slice of pizza. when did he get pizza? "if you hurry, you could go to the studio and meet your soulmate. the show is about halfway over."

before sam could think over the proposition, tony’s voice was heard from the corridor. "somebody shut that damned bird up before I pay ramsay to cook it!"

"i’m taking care of it!"

with that, sam heads to the armory with whitewing on his tail to get his wings. once he's equipped, sam heads to the window and jumps, immediately setting his course for studio 8h and his soulmate.

you’re released to go back to your office once you finish the skit alongside mick and piper, the show almost over. you’re gathering your things lazily, knowing that you have no other responsibilities for the night.

just as you lock your office and piper is waddling beside you without a care in the world, you see kyle running towards you with a look of fear in his eyes. that fear seems to only triple when his eyes land on piper beside you.

"kyle! what’s-"

"there’s another goose on the set! no one is safe!"

wait, was he bleeding?!

you were going to try and help your friend but one look at piper sent him off the rails, the lanky man nearly falling on his ass in an attempt to skid the corner. you hoped that someone would help calm your panicked friend, seeing as you were literally the worst person for the job at the moment.

without further incident, you are able to say goodbye to cecily and mikey before you're stopped in your tracks by michael, who gives piper a funny look.

"wait, so the goose that attacked kyle wasn't piper?" You shake your head in confusion. "dude, your soulmate must have come to the set!"

piper must have either understood what your co-worker had said or she could sense a change in the studio, but she began to honk erratically and run away from you. the last thing new york needed was two feral geese running around attacking people, so you did what anyone would do and ran after her.

"piper! piper, come back!" michael laughed as you chased after your goose. while you were running, you nearly died when you heard a honk that you knew wasn't from your piper. hers were carved into your brain, and you were positive that you could pick hers out of an entire gaggle of geese, so there was indeed a second goose in the studio.

to your dismay, piper did not stop and wait, she just kept on honking and flapping and scaring people in pursuit of the other goose, poor old you having to chase her.

there was another voice you assumed was yelling at his goose since you didn't know of anyone naming their kid whitewing. your eyes were not looking straight ahead when you suddenly bumped into someone, immediately stumbling a bit before regaining your balance.

piper had stopped her honking and that scared you. did someone hurt her? was she-

her and another goose were making muted honks to each other. they sounded like affectionate honks, which is one of the weirdest sentences you ever constructed in your head. but it was true! they were cuddling close to each other and making really quiet honking noises at each other, and if that wasn’t affectionate then you didn’t know what would be.

so if piper found her soulmate, that means yours was-

"i hope comin' to your job was okay. whitewing wasn't gonna give up until I left, so here we are." your eyes were dragged from the touching scene of piper and her special goose to a pair of dark brown irises that radiated warmth and a promise of happy days.

you were absolutely dumbstruck. your mouth was unable to form coherent words, so you decided to take in the appearance of your soulmate. he was wearing a soft grey tee and sweatpants, and socks without shoes. did he realize how unsanitary the streets of new york were?

but upon further investigation, you realize that he probably didn't walk to the studio. on his back was what you would normally call a jetpack, but when you recognize the face your mind completes the puzzle: your soulmate is sam wilson, otherwise known as the falcon. holy shit.

"uh yeah of course, i guess you flew here? no sane person in new york would walk around barefoot in the street." did you really just say that?!

sam nodded and then remembered that he was in his pajamas in front of his soulmate without any shoes. "yeah, he wasn't gonna stop attacking the tv once he saw uh…"

you realized he was asking for your goose’s name, and so you hastily gave it to him.

"yeah, once he saw piper, he went wild. caused more chaos in five minutes than he did in five days!"

you laugh, the nervousness falling away as you recount the story of you first meeting with piper.

people are staring at the pajama-clad avenger and his soulmate, their geese finally satisfied. after all, it wasn't every day so many people were able to watch soulmate geese (and their people) meet for the first time.

sam gently took your hand, his thumb smoothing the skin on the back of it, just listening to you talk. you asked him a question about whitewing and he was in the middle of telling you when he cut himself off. "i just realized i don't even know your name!"

in most scenarios you’d be slightly put off by this, but you didn't have an issue because of the specific circumstances. if he weren't an avenger you wouldn't have known his either, and plus, no one really pays attention to the little rat writers. you give him your name and smile when he introduces himself, his voice even helping show off the brightest smile you’ve ever seen.

with impeccable goose timing, piper and whitewing honk at you to hurry your introductions and leave the studio.

"do you want to fly back to your place , or can I drive you?" it was a risk to ask him such a question, but you were genuinely concerned. you hoped he wouldn't think you were trying to jump his bones only minutes after meeting him so you used (terrible) humor to show your intentions. "you shouldn't fly so late at night without headlights, no matter how high up you get."

sam’s laughter was infectious and soon you joined him, your geese about to get more irritated with their humans.

"yeah, I'd like that. lead the way, soulmate." piper and whitewing honk as the two of you head to the lobby hand in hand, the birds waddling behind you just as happy as soulmate geese could be.

#falcon #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson #mcu #marvel #falcon falcon goose!#sam wilson imagine #falcon imagine #bucky barnes #please don’t judge this mess

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marvelship-oneshots · 3 years

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TRAPPED TOGETHER (STUCKONY)

PART 1 OF 2

N/A AU where Steve and Bucky finally managed to move into their new apartment but it turns out that the landlord accidentally sold it to someone else as well. [2k words]

Bucky shut the door after his boyfriend finally managed to enter in their apartment. "It was about time" Bucky hissed, with a hand on his waist. Steve gently laid the boxes he was carrying on the floor, just wanting to let them go, but not knowing what was in there and essentially he didn't want to break anything. He looked at his boyfriend. "It seems to me that I was he one carrying all of those boxes" "Yeah, well, you're not the one with one arm" he said hinting at the empty sleeve of his leather jacket. Steve sarcastically rolled his eyes. "What? I carried one bag!" He said, holding the canvas bag that was hanging from his shoulder. Steve smiled and opened his arms, waiting for Bucky. Bucky put his arm around Steve's neck. Steve kissed his temple. "Home sweet home baby" "We did it, Stevey"

Bucky was putting the pillow into the pillowcase, holding one corner in his mouth, while Steve was laying on the bed trying to hold down every corner of the bed sheet when they heard the door shutting close. Bucky let go of the pillow, looking at Steve. "You heard that?" "What?" Steve asked without letting go of the sheet. "The door. Steve someone is in the house" Bucky whispered. Steve rolled his eyes and went back tucking the bed sheet under the corner of the mattress. "Steve, I'm telling you, someone broke in" "Buck, it's probably nothing" "Steeve!" Bucky whisper-screamed "Go check, pretty please" Steve got up and walked towards the door, Bucky following him as if he was a scared little children. "So much for being a soldier, huh Buck?" "Listen! You see? I have only one arm" Steve chuckled. "It seriously got to stop being the excuse for everythin-" The couple arrived in the living room and stopped. "I told you, someone broke in" whispered Bucky, hiding behind Steve. Bucky wasn't exactly tiny, or short, but Steve's shoulder were broad enough to hide him completely. "And you are...?" asked Steve, looking at the man from head to toe. He was short, very short, and rather slim. But everyone would seem tiny compared to Steve's massive figure. He had short brown hair and a nicely shaved beard. The man was wearing a tailored grey suit and an undone tie was hanging from his neck. He must have been older then the pair, but not any less charming. He was actually very handsome. "I'm Tony, I bought this apartment" Bucky and Steve looked at each other. "Uh, I'm pretty sure you did not since we bought this apartment." said the blonde, since Bucky was still partially hiding behind his boyfriend. "There must have been some kind of mistake. See, I signed the lease" said Tony showing the signed papers. Steve took the same documents that Bucky was handing him. "Yeah, we did too. See, apartment 4B" Tony checked again if he was in the right apartment and scratched his neck. "We'll call the agency in the morning" they agreed. "Uhm, I'll take the couch then" Tony said, looking at the two of them, imagining that they must have already settle in the only bedroom of the house. "Goodnight I guess" said Bucky, holding Steve's arm. Tony looked at the pair walk away. They were both handsome men. Strangely, the blond's physique was not the first thing that fought his eyes, it was the brunet's piercing blue eyes. Those were the most beautiful blue eyes he had ever seen.

"What?" screamed the trio in unison. "I'm so incredibly sorry, guys" "So, let me make things clear, you sold the same apartment TWICE, to two different clients?" asked Tony, slamming his hands on the agent's desk. The agent nodded. "And you can't refund one of us either?" "Exactly" Tony rolled is eyes walking it of the door.

"What are we gonna do Steve?" Bucky asked sitting at the kitchen table. Tony wasn't back yet. "I don't know, Buck, I don't know" "Happiness is just not for us, right?" Bucky shed a tear, Steve could hear his voice breaking. "No, no, no Buck, hey." Steve cupped his face with both hands, whipping the tear away. "Don't say that. I promised you that everything will be fine and I'll find a way out of this" Steve kissed his forehead. "I love you Buck" "To the moon and back" Bucky said, putting his hand over Steve's. The door shut close and Bucky jumped on the chair, not expecting any noise. "Uhm, hey, sorry guys" said Tony, wanting to become invisible. "Come in, it's your house too after all" finally spoke Bucky, for the first time. Tony sat at the table, on the other side from Bucky. "So, what are we going to do?" He asked. Steve and Bucky looked at each other. "We really cannot afford another apartment" the blonde said looking at his boyfriend. "Me too guys" replied Tony "Maybe having a roommate won't be so bed, right babe?" Bucky asked Steve, who looked at Tony waiting for his reaction. "I mean, it seems to be our best option" The three settled in the now shared apartment. The apartment was a one-room apartment with a rather small bedroom, but the living area was rather big. They decided that the couple would sleep in the bedroom and Tony would settle in the living room, on a sofa bed. It wasn't ideal, but it was the best they could take from the situation.

Week 1 It was 5:30 in the morning and the door closed shut and, hearing the noise, Tony woke up. He rolled in his bed, looking at whoever was going out. It was actually Steve, coming home from his daily morning run. It was December and outside it was still dark. And cold. "Why on earth would you do it?" Tony mumbled observing Steve shrugging his raincoat from the snow. Steve silently laughed. "Hey, I am the one who brings you donuts for breakfast" Tony smiled, getting in a more comfortable position to look at the blond man. "Mh yeah, you're an angel" Steve shook his head it's a small smile and walked out, towards his bedroom. "Go back to sleep Tony" Tony turned his head to follow Steve. He was wearing tight thermal pants and thigh t-shirt, too small for him, that was probably's Bucky's. "Bucky, you lucky man" he mumbled, pulling up the covers and gong back to sleep.

Week 2 "Shit shit shit fuck" Bucky screamed, throwing the lid of the mixer in the sink. "Language" Steve screamed back from the bedroom. Tony was reading on the couch and looked up, smiling. "Did he really say 'Language'? Bucky nodded, smiling. Tony looked at the brunet. He was all covered in the smoothie he was trying to blend. Tony walked towards Bucky, laughing. "Here, let me help you" Tony tried to reach for the towel to help Bucky clean up. Their hands touched. Slightly, but Bucky felt it and blushed. He felt his cheeks getting hotter and turned away before Tony would notice it. But he did. He thought it was cute.

Week 4 It was raining cats and dogs outside and the Steve was already late for work. He had to prepare for an important meeting and couldn't possibly be late. But obviously the rain was not enough, the car had to stop halfway out of the garage. Steve grunted and ran up the stairs back to his apartment, hoping that Tony would be awake already. Well, he wasn't. It was still early for night owl Tony but he really needed some help with his car. "Tony. Tony please wake up!" Steve put a hand on Tony's shoulder. Tony sat up abruptly. "What? Who died?" Steve rolled his eyes. "My car Tony, my car died" Tony laid back, pulling his pillow over his face. "If i knew a dead thing would get so much of your attention, I would have died three weeks ago" he mumbled, not knowing that Steve heard every single word. "Tony please, I need to get to work" Tony got up, grabbed his jacket and his shoes and walked out. "Ok Captain Handsome, I'm going. See?" When they reached the car, Tony opened the hood and started looking for what was wrong, bending over the engine. Steve, on he other hand, had a few calls to make, but he didn't even select the contact to call, being too busy looking at Tony's small body wielding whatever he was wielding. "If you wanted to stare at my butt you could have jut asked and I would have bent for you any time" Tony said, winking at Steve before heading back to their apartment.

Week 6 Tony was finally alone. For the first time in six weeks, he was the only breathing being in the house. Don't get him wrong, he loved Steve and Bucky's presence and he loved that someone was always there. But he also loved his freedom. When he lived alone -well, he lived with his parents, but they were rarely home- he could do whatever he wanted to. He found clothes constricting and whenever he could he ditched them- all of them. But, of course, he could not go around the apartment naked, he would seem weird at the eyes of Steve and Bucky. If they started ditching clothes as well, he would have considered reprising his old habit. The thought of the two soldiers in their birthday suit provoked a reaction that caused his pants to tighten around his waist. That was his clue to strip down of everything and feel the freedom he had incredibly missed. "Bucky? Steve?" he screamed, tossing his t-shirt on the floor. As no answer came back, he unbuckled his belt and let both his pants and boxers slip down to his ankles. Tony let out a long, loud sigh. He walked to the kitchen and took a glass, pouring way too much whiskey in it. He started walking around the house. At some point, when nothing interested him anymore, he finally decided that is was time for him to take a shower. Confident that Steve and Bucky wouldn't be home for a long time, the only thing he took in the bathroom with him, was the bottle of whiskey. Tony didn't know how long he had been in the shower. He was not even washing himself anymore. He was just letting the hot water run down on him. The bottle was now empty and he was definitely drunk, but he didn't care. When he felt it was the right time, Tony walked out of the shower and stood on the carpet, waiting for as much water as possible to fall on the ground, looking at himself in the mirror. The room was spinning around him, he needed to lay down. Tony stumbled towards the door, finally managing to open it. In front of the door, with a hand on the handle, was standing Bucky, half naked, with only a towel around his waist. It was a dream, wasn't it? Bucky looked Tony from head to toe, his mouth slightly open. "Tones" he whispered. "Buck" Tony whispered back, putting a hand on Bucky's chest, wanting to check if it was real or just another drunken hallucination. Bucky's chest was solid and unexpectedly warm. He couldn't take his hand away and Bucky couldn't move hie eyes from the shorter man. He knew it was wrong. He had Steve, he loved Steve, but since the first time Tony had touched him, he couldn't stop thinking about his hand all over hi body. To be honest, he wanted both Tony ad Steve's hands all over his body. Bucky was the first to wake up from that state of trance. "Uhm.. yeah, can I?" Shook his had, taking his hand away from Bucky. "Uh, yeah of course" Bucky moved from the doorway, giving Tony space to walk out of the bathroom, trying not to look at his naked body. While Bucky walked in, Tony stood still in the corridor, looking at Bucky's perfect body. "Uhm see yah, Tony" said Bucky before closing the door. "See yah" Tony whispered back one the door was closed and Bucky couldn't hear him anymore.

#marvel #tony stark #buckytony #tony x bucky #steve x tony #mcu stony #stucky #winteriron #winterironshield #stuckony

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eleanor-devil · 3 years

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Boruto: Sacrifices [Remade] | Chap.7 - Outsider

Written by: Eleanor-Devil & @mirage-05

Hiding behind a tree, Mitsuki was reaching out with his senses to check out the ninjas as he quickly controlled his weapons. Not that he needed to, not really… Any of his classmates’ would pale in comparison to how huge an arsenal he had, but it was always better to do a second check. All was good. His weapons were still enough to take down a troop. And the blue haired boy was calm, collected… he had mastered his ninjutsu well enough to hold his own against even jounins. He had proven so before. Whatever his father had pounded into his system, it was working in perfect order. He felt them coming to a halt before the footsteps stopped. “Now would be a good time to start.” a blond man said, seemingly the leader. “Alright, all of you know what to do,” he began. “Hideyoshi will go up front, giving us our targets and warning us, should anyone of a particularly high level of chakra cross our path. I and Takeru are the main offensive, we follow suit. Hiraku… stay as far away from the battleground as possible, remember our formation, wait for my signal. Scatter, we don’t follow the linear formation, just watch out for the signals we talked about. Any questions?” “Just one thing…” the mahogany-haired man replied in a gruff voice, his eyes gazing upwards at the tree branches. “We are not alone.”

Mitsuki felt his body tense hearing it, damn, they had a sensor with them… this would give some disadvantage in his surprise plan. He reached inside his kimono and pulled out a kunai, he was more than ready to throw it, but he glanced down and saw which kunai it was. It was one of those Konohamaru had gifted his team after their first C-ranked mission. It looked like an ordinary kunai on the outside, a simple weapon that just had a ribbon with the student’s respective color, blue in his case, attached to it. But this wasn’t just an ordinary one, no… their sensei had said this kunai had been designed to have one jutsu inserted inside it; somehow like the kote Boruto used in the exams. Mitsuki gripped it hard, he would wait for the perfect moment to use it. “I will make you proud, sensei…” Everyone in the squad had tensed suddenly. “Where?” the leader asked, unconsciously leaning a little forward in an attack stance. “How strong?” The sensor furrowed his brows, concern apparent on his features as his fingers trailed over the surface of a weapon attached to a strap on his back. “Pretty damn strong… and I’m only talking about one person. I’d say… kage level, even.” The tension was now so apparent that it was almost tangible. “Damn it…” the leader hissed between gritted teeth, they didn’t expect to encounter someone this powerful right out of the top… A scout? It could’ve made sense with how strong this person supposedly was, but wouldn’t he run away to inform the village by now…? “What do we do?” the platinum blond haired man that was standing close to him asked. Their leader, Goro, was silent for a moment… but then a wicked grin formed on his face… well… shouldn’t this be fun? They could test out their abilities on someone who was possibly kage-level, close to the man they wanted to kill… “Shall we go greet them?” “Playing cat and mouse again?” “Well, no one knows me better than you do, Hiraku,” the man said, smirking. A minute passed in silence as only the sounds of nature were heard around them. “Huh.” the brunette in the group finally said. “It would seem that someone needs an incentive. Tell me, Goro, what was that ninjutsu of yours capable of doing in direct contact?” Catching up to what he was trying to do, the blond was quick to come up with his own. “That was this technique improvised. In direct contact with the neck area… well, let’s just say that the head pops out quicker than a can ring. It’s much like the previous Raikage’s lariat. That’s what I’m gonna use on the hokage.” There was a rustle above, and then silence again. “That’s right… show yourself…” Goro muttered, his smirk growing. Seconds ticked away, with no new move from either side. “Why don’t you go in hiding, sweet cheeks?” Goro told the woman. “That bastard not seeing you might work to our advantage.” The woman glared at him for the briefest of seconds, but did as she was told. “Well,” the man continued nonchalantly, raising his voice. “I suppose, whoever you are, you just don’t care enough to come out and face us. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a village to ransack and some kage to kill.” They heard another rustle and Hideyoshi threw his first arrow in that direction… only to be met with an explosion of snakes. And fast as the speed of lightning, snakes stroke from above, one of the bigger ones going for Goro’s head. The brunette, Takeru, took out a barrage of kunais and with the help of his wind technique, took down the snakes in one swipe. They disappeared in a cloud of smoke. “Leave this to me,” he said with a smirk, reaching for his belt to take another blade, this one looked longer and sharper than the others. “I will take care of our visuals first and then force him to come out.” “He’s moving fast,” the mahogany haired man all but grumbled and another arrow rang out before Hideyoshi quickly changed his position. Goro touched the two identical hilts that were strapped to his back… the deadly blades that could be activated by chakra… but no, there was still time for it. Now was the time to tire the stronger opponent out. “Scatter and find him, no matter how.” the wicked grin was still there as his hand left the blades, assuring them mentally that they would soon have a taste of delicious chakra. “Now we begin our first hunt.” … Mitsuki moved from branch to branch, tree to tree, extremely fast; he had always been the fastest in his class, practically no one could beat him in his quick moves. No one other than Boruto; after their field trip to Kirigakure the Uzumaki had clearly improved his speed, living to the expectations of being the grandson of the Yellow Flash. The boy’s senses, however, were on high alert, there was one of those attackers who was fast too. As Mitsuki was making up a plan to lead them to the border, Takeru jumped ahead of him on a branch, forcing him to suddenly halt right there on his spot. “Knock knock,” the man said with a smirk. Mitsuki didn’t think. His mind had already succumbed into combat mode the moment he saw the man, exactly like how he was taught. Quickly completing the hand seals, he spread his hands in a crescent motion. “Fuuton: Kamaitachi.” Takeru’s confusion upon seeing who they were chasing, the person who had kage-level chakra resources was… just a kid… faded away and left in its place seething fury upon noticing the kid’s attack. What the hell?! A kid?! A fucking child without even a fucking headband?! Was this a goddamn joke?! Growling, he himself made quick hand seals and created a strong gust of wind to counter the wind scythe. Blue eyes met golden ones as they both stood their ground, the air blasting around them. Two could play that game if that was what this brat wanted. Not waiting for the wind to completely die down, the jounin threw one of his special kunais with precision, aiming directly at the boy’s heart, in an attempt to test his opponent. Mitsuki’s eyes were already on the weapon, he had been trained on similar attacks, there was no way he was going to let a kunai end him like that. Before the kunai could even hit the point the boy was, he moved out of the way as fast as lightning and when Takeru looked up, the blue haired boy was jumping on him with a snake morphing in the place of his arm. ‘Just what the hell is he?!’ Takeru thought. “Sen’ci Jashu,” the boy muttered as the snakes jumped towards the brunet. As he moved right above the man, Mitsuki took the chance to analyze the enemy. The man had cleverly hidden it beneath his clothing but he still had a split second to see the glint of a headband. The technique he saw the boy use almost made Takeru freeze - but he was quick to snap out of it and used the air currents to push himself away. One of the snakes’ fangs had grazed his hand, though, and it hurt. He balanced himself on a tree trunk on his feet and quickly flipped the bottom of a kunai open, reaching for the ointment inside. In a minute, the stinging from the bite had faded. He looked up in time to see Goro using one of his fire techniques on the boy, forcing the brat to redirect his attention. Snakes…? From the old legends he used to listen, that kind of technique brought an old fear to his mind… Mitsuki, on the other hand, quickly made new hand signs, now it was two against one in close combat… he had to be even faster than them both in thought and moves. An idea crossed his mind as his chest filled with large amounts of air and he let it all out. “Fuuton: Toppa!” As he did that, he jumped above Goro and used the wind against the fire the man was spitting from his mouth. The speed of the wind was so much that it made the fire change route against its will, moving towards Takeru and the trees closest to him. “Goro, watch it dammit!!” the brunet cursed as he attempted to move away from the now burning trees. It was a good thing he was functioning well under hard circumstances - otherwise there would be no way this inferno wouldn’t be seen by the village. That brat was either too clever or too damn lucky. The leader himself swore loudly as he quickly created two shadow clones. This person was good… damn good. He didn’t want to use the swords so soon. If they got out of control… Takeru landed next to him, searching the tops of the trees. Before he could even open his mouth, Goro stepped in. “Do whatever it takes to finish that guy.” “Boy.” the brunet replied curtly, and his tone was full of hatred and disgust. “Boy?” Goro’s eyebrows flew in surprise. Now, that was unexpected… to put it mildly. “Brat shouldn’t even be older than thirteen. Came to play ninja…” “That brat who came to play ninja just almost roasted you.” the blond’s tone was unimpressed. “No thanks to you!” Takeru almost spat out, rounding on him. “Why don’t you stop playing with fire and bring out the big guns?” “All in good time. Tire him out first, and then my babies can do their job. In any case, we can’t let him escape now that he has the chance to spoil our surprise. We have to finish him here before moving on to the village.” He felt the clones’ defeat as their memories rushed back to him, and he nudged his comrade, pointing at a direction to the far left of them. “There, get moving!” As he said it, they heard the twang of another arrow. Hideyoshi wasn’t being hot-headed like his two comrades, he had always been calm and collected in the battlefield, it was something he had learned due to years of experience. Being hot-headed and blood-lusted would only bring dismay on his side sooner or later. He focused on the person’s chakra. There! He threw an arrow but it only hit a tree, his amber eyes saw the quick shadow move to another place. Hideyoshi needed another plan or soon he wouldn’t have any arrows left and his only chance would be to go collecting them one by one. He focused again but the person was nowhere to be seen… had they escaped? No… whoever this person with immense chakra was, wouldn’t abandon a battlefield just like that. However, before he could even realize, a pair of long, elastic arms wrapped around him, breaking the ground right below him. How had he not seen that?! Before he knew it he was pulled right down into the earth, and something snapped… his bow, most likely, due to the sudden shifting. Sharp pieces stabbed into his arms and legs, effectively immobilizing him. Hideyoshi almost grunted out in pain… but that was when he finally saw the figure in front of his eyes. Panic shot up inside him and he quickly yelled out, “Wait!” His heart skipped a beat and he felt his breath hitching as he saw the enemy was... only a child… probably even younger than his own son? True, his chakra flared up like a supernova but the mahogany haired man knew it wouldn’t matter… not with the kind of power Goro had… if anything, this kid was walking right into a trap! “Kid, don’t do this!” he yelled desperately. “They are going to kill you!” Now it was Mitsuki’s turn to get baffled. This man cared? Why would he care about his own enemy? His father had always taught him that he shouldn’t show mercy for his enemy, for they wouldn’t show mercy for him either, but yet here it was, he was crying out for him not to continue. “The reinforcements are coming.” he stated simply, it was a fact, he had calculated the time in his mind. He had sent the message about five minutes ago, they weren’t that far away from the border. By this time, the message should’ve reached Lord Seventh. “No, you don’t understand, there is-!” but before he could even finish, Mitsuki had already turned his back on him and flew right away from his sight. “Kid no!!” He attempted to get out of the hole but the pieces of his broken bow stuck in his flesh were making this task impossible. “Seriously? You got caught by a kid?” he heard the mockery yet annoyance in Takeru’s voice as the man stepped out of the shadows. “Damnit, stop this!” Hideyoshi pretty much hissed between gritted teeth, looking up at the younger man with fury in his eyes. “You know what Goro is capable of, that is just a kid!” Takeru’s expression didn’t change. “So what? That runt is not gonna get it easy.” He twirled his kunai in his hand. “Maybe I will manage to get a piece out of it myself. Now hurry up and get your ass out there!” With that, he was gone too. Hideyoshi tried once again desperately to move, to do something… to no avail. … Mitsuki decided it was time to use the kunai his sensei had given to him. He had implemented his lightning jutsu inside the kunai and had just finished making about two more snake clones; this was going to take lots of chakra from him but hopefully it would take down who seemed to be the leader of this group; and if he had any luck, that fast man too. The clones were in position, surrounding the space Goro was spreading his own lightning attack. Mitsuki quickly made the hand signs. Clap hands - monkey. The clones copied him. “Raiton: Hebi Mikazuchi!” he muttered, low. And suddenly the circle he, his clones and the kunai he had placed on the top of a tree all activated the snake shaped lightning, moving fast towards Goro. Lightning, huh…? And a pretty unique technique too… well, maybe it was time to put all his best in it too… Reaching for the hilts strapped to his back, Goro put chakra in them and felt the blades flare up, bright blue and white. He looked up at the lightning snake, ready to meet it head on… it wasn’t like there was any other choice. “Raiton: Raiha!” he cried out before swinging the sword in one huge swipe, hitting the snake from its head. The blades hummed loudly with the chakra they pulled out of the jutsu… Goro could feel their excitement… it made him excited as well… “Let the real party begin!” Both lightning jutsus clashed, creating a large explosion in the area. Mitsuki had gone in hiding, already having predicted that such a clash would cause something like this. Sweat dropped from his forehead as he tried to keep his breathing stable. Just as he thought, the lightning snake took a lot from him. The explosion slowly died down. The boy peeked slightly from his hiding spot and scanned the area, black and grey were now the colors of a big part of Konoha’s forest. He thought about the time again, probably five more minutes had gone by, meaning a total of ten, and the reinforcements were still nowhere in sight. Just where were they? Surely they discovered his location, it couldn’t be hard especially after this explosion. Mitsuki didn’t see any sign of Goro either, but his instinct told him not to let his guard down, again, like his father taught him… without a corpse, there is no assurance of the enemy’s death. His amber eyes then noticed something stuck in the ground of the burnt area; a blade. The boy took a moment to assess the situation, his breathing bated. Did that mean… that his enemy was… dead? True, the lightning snake was powerful but to actually blow up a man who also had lightning based attacks…? In any case… a sword would help him greatly. He was pretty good at kenjutsu, and now while he was weak in chakra, he needed anything he could get his hands on… the leader wasn’t the only person he was fighting after all. Reluctantly making his mind, Mitsuki jumped swiftly and silently on the ground. Immediately, a barrage of kunais stuck on the ground on which he landed. The boy had no other choice but to duck, grab the sword and roll out of the way. “Come out come out, wherever you are…” he heard Takeru’s voice not too far from the bushes behind which he hid, he had quickly memorized their voices and scents. “Fucking snake brat… Takeru the cat is gonna catch you and fucking eat you alive, I swear it!!” It was clear in his voice, how annoyed the man was. Good, maybe he could drive him crazy a little bit more. His speed did not require more use of chakra, but using his stamina would slow down the recovery of chakra. Mitsuki was starting to take his first steps to run around the brunet when he was met with a blade coming from one of his sides. He barely had time to react to it and counter it with his own blade. He met the soulless smirk of the leader. This man… maybe he himself wasn’t one to talk, being only a synthetic human, nothing more than a replica in this world with some purpose… but Mitsuki had encountered many opponents, many enemies before, enemies even more powerful in their own right… yet he had never seen before anyone that looked less human… and more of a beast. “What is the matter kid?” the man said, his smirk growing more. “Feeling tired yet?” Lightning sparkled along his blade… the blade that looked so similar to the one he was wielding now, the blue haired boy noticed. “Or,” came Takeru’s voice before he could proceed more on that thought, and Mitsuki tried his best to avoid the next kunai attack… but he couldn’t act as fast. He felt the blades cutting his skin… “He’s just feeling down because he’s all alone, with no one to help…” Takeru came out of the woods, his smirk matching that of Goro’s. He stood there for a minute and looked around, as if listening to the sounds. “All this fighting and… still no reaction from the village you are hell-bent on protecting.” He jerked his head to the direction of the village as he looked at Mitsuki, as if to emphasize his words. And indeed, he was trying not to dwell on that too much so as not to distract from the battle, but it was peculiar that no one, not even a single jounin arrived yet. Konoha wouldn’t disregard a threat this close, especially after the latest attack, no matter who was fighting out there now... “Aww, look at his face, Goro,” the brunet smirked and closed the circle around the boy a little closer. “He only realized now how alone he is.” Mitsuki tried not to show how affected he was by this discovery… he focused on making up a plan to escape these two. Maybe it was time he started running back to the village and raised the alarm himself. He felt a slight burn on his superficial cuts. What he did next didn’t go unnoticed by the other two shinobi. The boy was healing the cuts and soon his skin was clean, no cut, just the few marks of blood that the cuts had provoked… but the wounds were gone. “So… the little snake can heal, huh? I bet that takes a lot of chakra from you.” That was right, although of course he wouldn’t tell them that. He kept sweating more and his breath was hitching more by the minute, this… fight was somehow taking more than it should from him… He really needed to end this sooner… Goro and Takeru took a step towards him, and Mitsuki had to do the one thing that immediately came to mind to buy himself some time. They were a temporary relief, but smoke bombs did work quite well for distraction. As his enemies’ vision was momentarily clouded by the black smoke, he extended his arm to grab the lower branch of a tree and pulled himself up. “That brat… I swear when I’m finished with him…” Takeru growled. “He’s coming close to his limit.” Rather than annoyed, Goro was enjoying every minute of it… he was in his element. “Keep attacking him psychologically. The rest will be dealt with Raiha.” His fingers caressed the half of his sword almost lovingly. Mitsuki landed safely trees away, with the sensor down it should take a while for them to find him again; thankfully he was good at hiding and escaping. He tried to keep his breathing steady… what was wrong with him? Sure he had used a good amount of chakra with the snake lightning but not enough to make him this weak, he felt his vision failing at times, like he was almost at his limit in the chakra reserves. Something wasn’t right, something definitely wasn’t right… last time he had felt like this was when he fought that Shizuma guy in Kirigakure… that glutton sword Samehada, together with the red mist sure had been a pain, sucking his chakra so easily like nothing… Wait… that was it…! That had to be it! His chakra was being sucked! That was the only explanation! His mind quickly went to thinking mode, he needed to figure out what was sucking it before they found him! And still this… silence, this inactivity from the village was beginning to unnerve him, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. Even if, by some inexplicable reason, no one could hear these sounds, even when they weren’t exactly being quiet… haven’t anyone seen the explosion? What was keeping Konoha ninja from rushing to this battle already? ‘Or maybe they just don’t care…’ The voice that returned in his head was so sudden that the boy involuntarily flinched. The same resentful, hateful voice that almost made him turn a blind eye when he first saw the rogue ninjas… But he couldn’t, he couldn’t leave his friends to the mercy of these beasts. ‘Oh? And where are those supposed friends now…?’ the voice asked with malicious delight. Mitsuki shook his head as if to get rid of the voice. He shouldn’t concentrate on this now… this was just a distraction. Distraction that could easily cause him to fail. Suddenly the earth shook and it almost made him fall from the tree. Dammit he had been found and caught with his guard down! ‘Focus, Mitsuki!’ his mind screamed as he jumped to the nearest trees. “Where are you going snake boy?! Want to play cat and mouse again??” he could hear Takeru’s teasing voice, where was the other one…? “You know no one is coming, don’t you?” he heard the laughter. “No one cares, no one knows you’re here! You’re just a nuisance, why would anyone come? Why would someone come for an outsider? You don’t even have a headband, you’re not a ninja y’know!” That made Mitsuki’s heart clench. No… he couldn’t let these words get to him…! ‘He is right, you know,’ the voice said, painfully in sync with the man. ‘You should’ve bailed when you had the chance. Now you’re all alone…’ “You are nobody,” the brunet continued. “No one moves a finger for a nobody. You’re not gonna make it out of here! You’re gonna die like the vermin you are, all alone!” ‘Why do you fight…?’ the voice whispered. As the man moved forward, the boy yelled in rage and jumped, again using his jutsu to extend his arm. Luck was with him this time, his arm wrapped around the man’s throat and tightened. Takeru came to a very sudden stop and gasped, and then tried to get Mitsuki’s arm loose, growing desperate when it didn’t work. The boy tightened his arm, but found himself lacking his usual strength to finalize the move… he needed it to keep his stand against the leader… The man’s color was slowly changing from purple to blue. His pupils dilated and he gurgled once more, his attempts growing feeble. Mitsuki had to let go, catching his breath. “Y-you…” Takeru coughed, gasping for air. “Y-you are a-an i-id-idiot… you s-should’ve… killed me…” his lips started to curl up in a smirk. “You’re… a goner n-now…” He didn’t have time to react, not even the time to sense the chakra of the person showing up behind him and just as Mitsuki turned around, he felt a sharp blade pierce his pale skin harshly, cutting it from one side to another; coloring his white and blue kimono in different shades of red. His body was paralyzed in shock, he felt the blood coming from his throat and out of his mouth, his amber eyes moved up to see his attacker… it wasn’t Goro… he was… very similar to the leader but it wasn’t him… how… had he not noticed there was another in the group…? Hiraku began shaking when he realized that he had just attacked a child, his breathing quickened, an icy smoke of breath left his mouth and he tried to gently pull out the sword… it only worsened when he saw the amount of blood spilling from the wound. The blond lost all ability to stand at the sight… his knees gave way and he fell on them, trembling all over. Tired and weakened as he was, Mitsuki still saw Goro’s murderous gaze a second before the charging man raised his sword high. His mind in automatic drive, he did the move that saved his life back in Kirigakure. “Fuuton: Toppa...!” He didn’t feel the blade… he only felt his heart clenching and the pain, the pain like someone just lit it on fire… He had no strength to keep standing… nor the will… with a silent sigh, he fell forward. “Goddamn brat… Gave us one hell of a fight…” The leader’s voice was full of hatred, disgust… He spat on the boy on the ground before turning to Hiraku. “Get a hold of yourself, you spineless coward.” Mitsuki could barely stay awake, his body was too weak… how had he come to this…? He was supposed to be the perfect fighting machine, he shouldn’t have lost… his father had made him perfect… His weak eyes saw Goro bend down and grab the second blade. The wicked smile widened. “You didn’t even see it coming, did you brat?” he said in a teasing tone. “This blade ate all your chakra without you even noticing.” Trembling from the pain and exhaustion, the blue haired boy was surprised - and disappointed - that he couldn’t even have made the connection. He had seen the legendary Samehada up close, felt the blade sucking his chakra… and let that blade do the same… he was too focused to just fight, fight for survival, fight for the village… The village… his… friends… At least maybe they were safe… if he had ensured that much, he still would have completed the mission… Goro’s face contorted in inhumane fury as he kept looking at the boy, who was still stirring, albeit feebly… This worthless pup had made them lose a considerable amount of chakra… they couldn’t go on to the village tonight with the state they were in right now… He had to pay. Hiraku noticed Goro raising his foot but his mind didn’t make the connection in time to stop what happened next. With a sharp, sickening sound, the leader’s kick smashed right on to Mitsuki’s chest, making the boy hiss in pain. “Why don’t you hurry up and die already, you pesky brat?!” “S-stop that, Goro! He won’t be able to move in this state! Let’s just leave him!” A female voice came from behind Hiraku, an amused snort. “You really are a newbie in this, aren’t you? Leaving the kid alive is the same as dooming your life. In this life, the enemy must die.” The woman, Suzume, bent down to look at Mitsuki. The boy moved his eyes to her. He felt his eyes burn, as well as his chest… was it the pain from the blade’s attack…? No… it was something else… the sensation almost felt familiar... “Tch… pathetic. How does a crybaby like you almost beat us and ruin our plans?” Cry… baby…? Once again, he was crying…? So that was the wetness on his face… But why…? He couldn’t be… upset because he was beaten, Shizuma had beaten him too back in the field trip, he didn’t recall crying back then… ‘Your father would be ashamed if he saw you like that now…’ the voice in his head said spitefully, and Mitsuki felt another pang in his heart. “Awww, or is it that this poor lone ranger is too afraid to die?” the woman continued in a mocking, sing-song voice and pulled out a kunai. “Let me end your misery honey, won’t you?” “I’m… not afraid… to die…” Mitsuki breathed out faintly but still with all the power he could muster, before he coughed up more blood splaying his lips… It was all he could do to just keep his consciousness… It was fading away, just like how the pain slowly was… Suzume grunted and wiped the blood from her face with a disgusted look in her eyes. Tch… damn brat. “I can see why you get on my comrades’ nerves, you truly are an annoying brat. No wonder you are here all alone.” The woman raised her blade with the intention of plunging it into the boy’s heart at once but the moment his amber eyes met her own, Suzume froze in shock… these eyes… those damn eyes that she knew too well…! She quickly got up, sweating hard. “No way…” “The hell are you doing Suzume?! Finish him!” Takeru muttered, annoyed. “Forget it, I’m out of here!” And with that, she took off, without another glance to spare their way. “What the fuck was that…?!” Summoning up the last dregs of his consciousness, Mitsuki had made his mind. The village was the next target… and no one was coming, maybe they weren’t even aware, although he didn’t know how… if he could delay them a little longer… Monkey… Ox… Maybe it was his sluggish movements, but he never found the time to complete the Paralyzing Jutsu. A kick dangerously close to his face forced his hands apart and came crashing down on his right arm. The boy heard his bones crunch but he could no longer feel the pain. “This vermin seriously grates on my nerves. Hiraku, I have a job for you.” Hiraku inclined his head to their direction, but didn’t give any other sign of interest. This got a ‘tch’ from Takeru, while Goro just rolled his eyes with an impatient huff. Then he quickly bent down, grabbed a fistful of Mitsuki’s hair and jerked his head up. “Get your hands on that sword of yours. I want the boy’s head.” "W-What?" the other man managed to stammer, unable to believe he said just that. "What, never heard of trophy hunters?" Goro asked, his smirk taking on a more insane quality. "I won this hunt, and I want my trophy. You are not a weakling, are you? Bring me the boy's head." Bile rose up in Hiraku's throat as he realized what kind of an inhuman being his companion truly was. "You bastard! I'm not doing that to a child!" Goro didn’t say anything for a moment, squinting at him with great distaste. "Fine, I'll do it myself." Goro said and dropped Mitsuki roughly to the floor, going for the sword that was next to Hiraku. "No! Goro, stay away from the boy!" Darkness overwhelmed Mitsuki, but not before he saw a shadow nearby, someone who felt familiar... Then he felt the presence of someone warm, someone he could trust... and he felt no more.

#boruto:sacrifices #boruto #naruto #mitsuki #sarada #boruto fanfiction #naruto fanfiction #tw:blood

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sohin-ace · 4 years

Text

Ceasar - Different Joestar

This is cross-posted from Wattpad and available on AO3. This is an old work, the writing has improved ever since.

Enjoy~

Life sure was hustly as a Joestar.

You were Joseph's sister. You both were raised by your grandmother Erina Pendleton Joestar. Joseph and you got along very well, even with your differing personalities.

You both loved to joke around and play, but you were much calmer, more careful, and thoughtful than the guy. On the other hand, he was more spontaneous, cunning and bolder than you.

You two were hamon users and this ability brought trouble to you as you got implied with the vampire Straizo and the Pillar man Santana. Things were about to go even further down, but you didn't know that.

You siblings were sent to Italy to meet the Zeppeli descendant, Ceasar.

At first Joseph wanted you to stay back in the U.S as he obviously didn't want to put you in even more danger, but eventually Speedwagon convinced him to let you accompagny them. After all, you could fend for yourself and Joseph definitely needed some of his sister's brain as his own often betrayed him.

You were currently walking the sunny streets of Italy, arms linked with the good old Speedwagon.

Speedwagon was a nice gentleman who treated you and Joseph like his own children. Even if Joseph could be blunt and rowdy sometimes, you showed love to the man for both you and your brother. And Speedwagon noticed that. You felt nothing but sheer gratitude and respect towards the old man.

You helped him walk to the plaza and decided to bring him to a bench to rest.

"Please sit down Mr. Speedwagon. I'll search for Ceasar, just tell me what he looks like."

"You are too nice, Y/N, I wish Joseph was a bit more like you." He sat down and you took his cane and put it aside. "But it's okay, your brother should be here any moment now."

Unbeknownst to you, said blonde man was looking at you both from the fountain that happened to be just next to the bench where you two were. He watched you as you cared for the old gentleman that he instantly recognized.

He couldn't help but think how beautiful you were, shaken by how exotic your hair and eyes looked, how smooth your features were, and how graceful your curves appeared.

His expression softened when he saw you take a water bottle out of your purse, opened it and gave it to Speedwagon. How considerate, it was indeed a warm day and the Italian sun was strong in the afternoon.

At the moment, Ceasar couldn't look at any other woman than you. It was like you put him under a spell, this never happened to him before. Something about you charmed him. It was not just your looks, it was something else. He was intrigued and had to figure it out.

You completely made him forget about that one woman he was currently courting.

"Ceasar? What's the matter?" the girl asked, almost hurt that his attention was stolen from her.

The blond nicely told her a cliché romantic line to make her go back to her love-struck state and she completely fell for it as she squealed, hearts in her eyes.

Not shaking you from his thoughts, he decided that he would check up on you, but when he glanced your way, you were already gone. Leaving Speedwagon who was soon talking to a tall brown haired male.

Said male then went up to sit at the fountain, and Ceasar resumed on his flirting session, guessing that man was the so called 'Joestar' Speedwagon told him about.

In circumstances, Joseph and Ceasar met, and were not very happy about one another. Turns out they fought while you were at the opposite side of the plaza, looking for the Italian man.

That night, your brother ranted about his encounter and you listened to him, amused. You couldn't help but be eager to meet that Zeppeli guy and see him for yourself.

The next day, you came to the same plaza, next to the fountain again, hoping to meet with Ceasar. Even if you didn't see him there today, you knew you'd have to meet him eventually since your were bound to train with him and Joseph and come out with a Hamon technique.

You paced close to the fountain, your fingers fumbling with your bottom lip, a habit you had when deep in thought. The green eyed Italian was sat at the fountain again that day and saw you pacing.

He recognized you as the gorgeous girl who cared for Speedwagon and his heart beat quickened. Finally he saw you again, and so soon, too!

On the other hand, you were thinking on how you would recognize the man or make him recognize you, as you still didn't know what he looked like.

"Should I make a Hamon move and see who reacts? No... Any normal person would react to Hamon...But it wouldn't hurt to try..." You muttered to yourself.

"Oh signorina!" You turned to the direction of the voice and approached it's blonde good-looking owner.

"You called me, sir?" you asked politely.

Your voice was just how he expected. Sweet and pleasant. He crushed on you harder by the second.

"Excuse my manners, bella, but you are so beautiful, I had to propose to take a picture of you in front of the fountain. Your shining eyes would put the reflecting water and sun to shame." Your face lit up for a moment, but not for the reasons Ceasar hoped.

"Oh, a picture in front of the fountain! Wonderful idea, I have to take one with my brother and my tutor!" you exclaimed, completely ignoring his compliments.

The blonde's face morphed into a surprised expression. No reaction? Oh you must be one of those dense women, how cute.

He then seized your hand in his huge one and kissed the back of it. "Let me introduce myself. My name is Ceasar Zeppeli. It's a pleasure to meet you, miss...?"

"Ceasar? Oh it's you! I was just looking for you!You can call me Y/N." You smiled brightly at him, taking a hold of his hand with you free one.

He flinched and blushed at the contact. Your hands were so soft and delicate. The way you held him like he was glass, your angelic eye smile, your sweet perfume dancing around him, everything about you sent him reeling.

Just who were you? To make THE ladykiller Ceasar Zeppeli, feel this way?

"Y-you uh... You were looking for me? Have we met?" he stuttered, which was very out of character for him, but he was just so overwhelmed and flustered.

You released the man and sat down next to him before answering. "We haven't. It's about developping my Hamon technique, We- Mr. Speedwagon and I thought you could help."

He looked at you in curiosity, but thought that it made sense that you were so close to Speedwagon if you were a Hamon user. He smiled handsomely at you, regaining his composure.

"You would like me to tutor you? How can I refuse giving special lessons to a beautiful dove like you?" You giggled slightly at his words. He was indeed a flirt, as Joseph had told you.

"Oh, would you give special lessons to beautiful doves like Jojo too?" he clicked his tongue and glared away and you laughed at his reaction.

"Ppfft, you know that man? Isn't he just the worst? No way am I helping him. I am never associating with a Joestar ever!" You flinched. You opened your mouth to speak but he continued.

"From what I can see, the Joestar bloodline is filled with weaklings and cowards. I can't believe Speedwagon is making me do this." He spoke of your family with such hatred you didn't even know where to start.

You decided to not say anything for now, as it would just be weird to tell him you were a part of that family as well.

"I... I see..." You looked away, feeling extremely awkward. Not bearing the tense atmosphere, you decided it was probably time for you to leave.

"Well then... I think I'll go now. Thank you, Ceasar." You stood up but he quickly grabbed your hand, stopping you.

"Wait bella! Already? Did I perhaps scare you?" He asked with concern.

"O-oh no, it's okay, I just... I'll leave you be..."

"I'm sorry, I got carried away. This man just frustates me so much." He paused and grabbed both your hands in his, rubbing them soothingly.

"Ah..." You yet again, glanced awkwardly around, not daring meeting his gaze, which he mistook as shyness and found your mimicks adorable.

"How ungentlemanly of me, to speak so recklessly on our first meeting." you told him that it was fine and he released you. His face suddenly lit up.

"Hey! Let's plan some time to meet again? I'll make it up to you." You looked down at him, tilting your head cutely and smirking to yourself.

You shook your head. "That won't be necessary, Ceasar. We'll definitely meet again soon. Believe me." you tapped on his shoulder, sending a tingly Hamon shockwave down his spine, and swiftly turned around and left.

He swore he could feel his heart melt like warm chocolate in his chest. His breathing was shallow and his face warmed up.

How could you have so much effect on him? How could you act so cute while being so sexy and charming?

That day when he came back, he was met with the obnoxious face of his partner, Joseph.

"Yo! You should see your face. What's wrong playboy? Broke up?"

"Shut up Joestar." He plopped down on the couch next to the brunet. "I met this super hot girl I've had my eyes on, and turns out she's a Hamon user that'll train with us."

Joseph's eyes widened and he leaned forward slightly in curiosity. A girl, that uses hamon, that will be training with them?

"Huh... Do you have her name by any chance?" Joseph asked, a bit unsure.

There was only two possibilites and one of them was already making his blood boil. Either she was a stranger and it was a big coincidence. Or...

"Pfft!" Ceasar scoffed. "Give up if you think you have a chance with her. She's mine." The blonde smirked cockily. "But if you really want to know, her name is Y/N."

Oh shit.

Joseph almost couldn't believe his ears.

"What ??!!" He tensed up, veins appearing on his arms and forehead, he was already fuming.

"Yeah I know, exotic name, fitting for such a fine lady. You should see her, she just knows how to make a man weak-"

"THAT'S MY FUCKING SISTER YOU ASSHOLE!!!" Joseph yanked Ceasar by the collar, violently standing him up. The blonde's expression fell apart.

"She's your... What ???" He grabbed onto Joseph's arm, sweating bullets.

You were Joseph Joestar's sister? That was a piece of detail that you didn't share. How come you never told him your last name? And after he trashed on your family to your face.

He fucked up, and he knew it.

"Uh... I can explain..."

"CEASAR YOU'RE A FUCKING DEAD MAN!!!" Joseph brought his fist up, ready to beat the shit out of his partner.

"What's going on here?" Speedwagon came in just in time before Ceasar's murder could happen, you following close behind him.

The old man was planning to finally introduce you officially to the Italian man, but that was already a failure. The two quarelling men looked at you both and their eyes widened. You instantly ran to your brother to stop him.

"Wait Jojo! What's happening? Are you okay?" Joseph clicked his tongue and harshly threw Ceasar on the couch. He then protectively wrapped his arm around you.

"Don't you fucking dare touch my sister if you care for your nutsacks." He spat, then looked at you. "Y/N, if he does anything to you, tell me got it ?? Don't let him do anything to you!"

"Jojo that's enough! Y/N, do something about your brother, Please!" Speedwagon was overwhelmed by the situation. He should have expected something like this would happen.

You dragged your brother out of the room as he was still trashing under his breath. You discreetly glanced behind you, mouthing an 'I'm sorry!' to Ceasar and winked at him sweetly.

He chuckled a little bit as he watched you go. He felt stupid, but couldn't help falling in love with you.

He changed his mind, you really were a different Joestar.

I pictured old speedwagon like I picture my own grandfather. I wish he lived to me being grown, I would have taken extra care of him, just like Y/N. I'll never forget his blue eyes and I miss him everyday.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo #jjba #battle tendency #ceasar #ceasar zeppeli #reader insert #x reader #writing #jojo no kimyou na bouken #part 2 #part 2 jojo #ceasar x reader #ceasar zeppeli x reader #joestar reader

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cherryrogers · 4 years

Text

bittersweet {6}

pairing: boxer!bucky x rogers!reader

warnings: Swearing, some angst, mentions of dark(ish) themes.

synopsis: With his captivating blue eyes and irresistible charm, a certain boxer wove his way into your heart with ease. However, the boxer just happened to be your brother’s best friend, and that made things a little more complicated.

a/n: this is a bit of an angsty one guys ngl,,, things are gonna get tense. can’t believe i started this as a simple boxer fic and now it’s this lmaoo but you know what we’re going with the flow :) i think i’ve wrote this in a way where it’s not confusing but it still leaves you asking questions,,, if it’s just confusing then i’m sorry oof. anyway, make a/n’s way too long - please enjoy!!

Series Masterlist

To put it simply, Steve Rogers was seething.

His fists clenched and unclenched by his sides as he paced down the hall towards your apartment, the conversation he’d just had replaying over and over in his mind.

Steve knew that the next time he’d see Brock Rumlow after making their deal wouldn’t be pleasant, but he wasn’t quite expecting to want to punch the guy in the face so fucking badly.

Apparently, things were a lot worse than he’d thought.

“Your sister; she’s a pretty thing, isn’t she?”

The mention of you caused the blond’s heart to drop as he glared at the man in front of him. You weren’t supposed to be involved in any of this mess, so how the hell did Rumlow know about you? “What did you just say?”

An unsettling grin sat on Rumlow’s lips. “I ran into (Y/N) yesterday, well, she literally ran into me. In this exact spot, actually. She didn’t tell you about it when found you in the gym?”

Well, considering Steve wasn’t anywhere near the gym the day before, he was confused as to why you were. If it wasn’t for the fact that he knew your name, Steve would’ve thought that Rumlow was bullshitting just to get on his nerves. He was sure that Rumlow didn’t even know that he had a sister.

But why hadn’t you called him to let him know you were heading to the gym to see him? And since he wasn’t there, why hadn’t you called to ask where he actually was? Something wasn’t adding up, because if Steve wasn’t at the gym, there’s be no reason for you to be around there, right?

For the moment, all Steve knew was that he didn’t want you remotely involved in this, and he’d do whatever it took to keep the scumbag in front of him away from you.

“We’re not dragging my sister into this shit, Rumlow. She stays out of this.” The blond stated firmly. “The deal; what are we fighting for?”

Brock crossed his arms over his chest, his stupid expression not wavering in the slightest. “I can’t lie, Steve, I wasn’t thinkin’ about having our match for a long while. There was never anything I wanted from you, well, until yesterday.”

It didn’t take long for Steve to figure out what the man was insinuating, and he didn’t hesitate to lift his fist and send a strong punch across the asshat’s face once he did.

You. You were what Brock Rumlow wanted.

“Not happening, you son of a bitch.” Steve practically spat at Brock, who had his hand resting over his evidently broken nose. He was expecting a punch in the face for that, truthfully, but Brock wasn’t looking to back down any time soon.

He pointed a finger towards Steve with one hand, wiping the blood from above his lips with his other. “You have some fuckin’ balls, Rogers, thinkin’ you can change the terms of a deal just ‘cause you don’t like them. Doesn’t work like that.”

“You said it would be cash.” The blond spoke through gritted teeth. “Look, we can have the match tomorrow, and if you win, I can get you your cash in a week-”

“I said it could be money.” Rumlow intervened. “But I think I recall you sayin’ it could be anything I want.”

Steve had to refrain from decking the bastard again, as his eyes burned into the brunet’s. “Why her, huh? There’s a shit ton of other girls you could want, why the hell does it have to be her?”

“It’s more fun this way.” He chuckled darkly. “I hate your fucking guts, Rogers, and knowing that I’m about to take something for you and that it’ll break you? Well, it brings me great pleasure. Call me a sadist.”

That sick fuck.

He’d only be able to have you if he won, anyway. But knowing Brock Rumlow, the match would be fought with his rules, meaning Steve would likely barely stand a chance, even if he was the better boxer.

He wasn’t going to do that to you; put you in danger like that. Rumlow could ask for anything else, anything, but not you.

“You know what? Fuck this. I’m not fighting to keep my own sister away from you, get back to me when you want something else.”

Steve was about to walk away, but a rough hand wrapping around his forearm stopped him from doing so.

“You wanna walk away from the deal, then fine. But I have somethin’ on you, Rogers. Something I don’t think you’re gonna want getting out. Especially not to your little sister.”

He couldn’t be serious, right? Sure, Steve wasn’t an angel. He was sure that because of his past with Rumlow that the guy did have some shit on him, but nothing that could ruin him, nothing that would force him into competing in a match where your safety was the prize.

And well, Steve was completely wrong.

Brock Rumlow had something terrible on him, something that could and would ruin everything if it got out, leading to him agreeing to the deal, to the match. You were now involved in the part of his life that he never wanted you to find out about, and Steve blamed himself fully for that.

If you hadn’t ran into Rumlow that day outside of the gym, maybe he wouldn’t have even found out about your existence, and you wouldn’t currently be being used as a pawn in his sick game.

Whatever reason you were wandering outside of the gym for, it better have been good, because Steve was not happy.

Before he arrived at your door, he sent a quick text to Bucky.

At my sister’s apartment now, but we need to talk. Meet me at the gym in an hour?

Bucky swore he felt his heart stop as he read the text.

“Who’s that?” You asked breathily, trailing your fingers down his bare chest, lips pressing softly against his neck.

The last time you’d seen Bucky was only the day before, after he’d told you about Rumlow and the twisted fighting ring he was involved with. That didn’t stop you from inviting him to your apartment again, however. Truthfully, you just couldn’t get enough of him.

Things got hearted pretty quickly, like they usually did, and you’d soon found yourself straddling him on your couch, like you usually did.

Though, your brother was about to cut your time with Bucky short.

“It’s Steve.” The boxer swallowed, your brother’s name being said making you pull back almost immediately. “He said he’s here.”

Your brows furrowed. “Here?”

A heavy fist knocked against your door, causing both you and Bucky to jump.

“Here.”

The two of you shared a momentary look of alarm before you scrambled off his lap, almost tripping over the coffee table as you ran to the nearest mirror, fixing your smeared lip-gloss and adjusting your shirt.

Bucky swiped his own shirt from the arm of the couch, pulling it on hurriedly as a string of inaudible curse words fell from his lips.

“Uh...” Your eyes darted around the room, lingering on your bedroom door. “My bedroom; you can hide in there.”

“Are you sure-”

“There’s no time for a discussion, James.” You gently shoved him towards the door, then did a one-eighty and headed back towards your front door.

With a deep breath out, you plastered a neutral look on your face and opened the door, as if you weren’t just sucking hickeys onto the best friend of the blond stood in front of you, and said best friend wasn’t hiding in your bedroom.

Your nonchalance soon faded into genuine worry, however, as you opened the door to find your brother wearing a concerned expression.

“Steve, is everything alright?” You questioned hesitantly.

“Can I come in?” He avoided the question, but you nodded quickly, opening the door wider to let him slip through into the living area.

He didn’t sit down, or even stand still - the man paced slowly back and forth into front of the couch, and it made a pit form in your stomach.

“Stevie, tell me what’s going on.” You pressed calmly, hoping that by remaining calm you could ease your brother’s tenseness.

The blond turned to look at you as you spoke, eyes flicking to the floor for a few seconds as if he was considering his next words carefully, before looking back up at you. “What were you doing at the gym on Thursday?”

Shit.

You wanted to stay calm, act natural and pretend that you didn’t know what he was talking about. But you’d never been a good liar, or any sort of liar at all. You didn’t lie to Steve, and it hurt to even ever think about doing so, but what other choice did you have?

“I, uh...” You twiddled your thumbs nervously, unable to think up any sort of lie in the moment, prompting Steve’s eyes to harden. “I don’t know.”

‘I don’t know’? Jesus Christ...

Thursday was the day you bumped into Rumlow, and other than Bucky, nobody knew about the encounter other than the guy himself. Did that mean Steve had a run in with him too? Is he the reason that Steve knew you were at the gym?

“I’m gonna need you to do better than ‘I don’t know’, (Y/N).” Your brother persisted, something flashing momentarily in his eyes - concern, maybe? Fear?

A part of you just wanted to let it out, to admit that you’d fallen hard for his best friend and that he was the reason you’d been taking trips to the gym. But now wasn’t the time.

Your eyes refused to meet his, and in your peripheral vision, you noticed something; his hand. It was red, bruised. Like he’d punched something, and yes, of course he’d been punching things - he was a boxer. But you could tell by injury that his hand wasn’t wrapped or gloves when he hit whatever he did.

“What happened to your hand?” You couldn’t help but ask.

“Hurt it while training.” Steve responded vaguely, making you scoff.

“You know, you’re not such a good liar either.”

The blond had a solemn look on his face as he let out a long sigh. “Then how about we don’t lie to each other, huh?”

There was a short silence, indicating that Steve obviously wanted you to be honest with him first. Okay, a reason you were outside of the gym; you just needed a little white lie... Something believable, but who else would he believe you were at the gym for other than him?

“Peter Quill.” You blurted out, your brother’s head snapping up as soon as you said the name. Well, apparently this was the direction your lie was going in. “I... was at the gym to see Peter.”

Steve obviously knew that the two of you were friends at college, but you were in different majors. It’s not like you were working on a project or studying together. The only other reason you’d want to see him at the gym would be... no. There was no way that Peter fucking Quill was the mystery new guy in your life. No way in hell.

The blond looked totally and utterly baffled as a nervous laugh escaped his mouth. “Wait, he’s not- he can’t be the guy...”

The lie only had to go on for a little while before you could tell Steve who the real mystery guy was, what harm could it do to just... go along with it?

Your brother watched your eyes shift anxiously before you gave him a slow nod, and before he could go off at you, you quickly opened your mouth to speak first. “Look, I know what you’re going to say-”

“That the kid is nowhere near good enough for you? You’re right, that’s exactly what I was gonna say.” The blond began to pace, and when Steve was pacing, well... that’s when you knew that he was stressed. “So all that stuff you said, about your new guy being mature, and caring, that was about... Peter Quill?”

“Yeah, it was.” You could picture Bucky in your bedroom now, probably trying not to peel over in laughter at how stupid this lie was.

“But- but Quill is... you know he lives on hot cheetos and energy drinks, right? I’ve never seen him eat a piece of fruit in his life. And he sings obnoxiously loud in the showers at the gym, and he skips most of his college classes-”

“I know, Steve.” That wasn’t a lie, you’d been around Peter long enough to know that he was a typical, doesn’t really give a shit about anything college boy, yet he wasn’t comepletely intolerable. “But I still like him, and I still care about him. I know you’re not his biggest fan, but it’d mean a lot to me if you just tried to like him. For me.”

You weren’t sure how you were going to explain it to Peter that he had to pretend he was dating you to keep your brother off your back about the guy you were actually seeing, but like you said, it was just until you were ready to tell him the truth.

However, the more lies that your lips, the more you just wanted to let the cat out of the bag. Lying to Steve was unfair, and completely against your morals. After your mom passed, you vowed never to hide anything from Steve; your sadness, any of your feelings, anything for that matter. It had only been you and him for so long, and lying to him just felt so wrong. Bucky wasn’t just a casual fling like you thought he’d be - he meant so much more to you, and hiding that from Steve wasn’t something you wanted to do for much longer.

You’d have to talk to Bucky about it once Steve left.

Steve kept quiet for a moment, a crease between his brows as he considered your words. It looked like he wanted to protest, but instead he sighed yet again. “Fine, I’ll... I’ll go easy on him, for now. But I swear, kid, the moment he messes up-”

“Yes, Steve, I know the drill.” You couldn’t help but grin faintly. In all honesty, if he ever had his heart broken, you’d probably act the same way. Even just seeing his bruised knuckles made a wave of rage rise in your chest. “Now, back to you. What has you so worked up?”

Slowly, Steve lowered himself to sit on the couch, and you sat on the opposite side to him, legs crossed and a couch cushion pulled to your chest. For a moment, it felt like you were kids again. Your brother didn’t have the best experience in school, when he used to be short and skinny but too stubborn to walk away from bullies twice the size of him. Whenever there’d be some sort of incident at school, you’d make your brother sit down and talk to you about it, you curled up in the corner of the couch like you were now, and him with his elbows against his knees like he was sat. Even when you were only ten and he was fourteen, you still wouldn’t let him get himself down.

Though this time, you knew what was up. He’d somehow found out, probably from the guy himself, that you’d ran into Rumlow that Thursday. If he was actually going to tell you the full deal with Rumlow, well, you were going to have to find out.

Steve started speaking with a nervous exhale. “You ran into a guy outside the gym that day, right?”

You nodded quickly, hoping your less than adequate acting skills could get you through the conversation smoothly. “Dark hair, around your age, right?”

“Right.” The man confirmed. “Well, I had a run in with him too, yesterday. It’s just... I’ve got a bit of a bad history with him. He trains at an opposing club, doesn’t play by the rules in matches, and if he’s gonna keep roaming around our gym, then I don’t want you around there, for me or for... Peter.”

Well, that was your Thursday visits to the gym to see Bucky done with, and you weren’t too happy about that.

“So he’s an asshole, why does that mean I can’t be around there anymore?” You pressed. You knew he was more than just your everyday asshole, but you’d never known Steve to back down against another guy. And you weren’t one do so, either.

“He’s more than-” The blond started, and for a moment you thought he was going to tell what Bucky had already let you in on, but he refrained instead. “He’s... look, just let me worry about him, alright? All you need to do is stay away from-”

And there it was. He might as well have just told you ‘not to worry your pretty little head about it’, because that’s what he was basically saying. You weren’t a doll; you were delicate like china and you wished that people would stop treating you as if you were.

“How is this you being honest with me, Steve?” You intervened, clutching your cushion tighter in annoyance. “You came in here with steam practically coming out of your ears and now it’s nothing to worry about?”

“Kid, you don’t understand-”

“Of course I don’t understand!” You exclaimed, standing from your seat and glaring down at your brother. “You’re not giving me anything to understand.”

“He’ll hurt you, (Y/N).” Steve abruptly stood too, his expression more serious than you’d ever seen it before. “If you know who he is or what he does, he’ll find you and he’ll hurt you. And now that he knows you’re my sister, he’s- he’s using you to...”

Your voice sounded as quiet as a mouse in comparison to his outburst. “Using me to what, Steve?”

“To fuck with me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, doing his best to control his breathing. You hadn’t seen your brother this angry, this distressed, in a long time, and it pained you.

You knew Bucky could hear every word of what was going on, and you could only imagine that he wanted to come out and help Steve calm down, and figure out what the hell was going on.

“Stevie,” You took a step towards the blond, considering placing your hand on his forearm before deciding against it, not wanting to agitate him. “Did he... threaten you?”

He remained still for an unnerving amount of time, but you didn’t rush him with his answer. It was almost silent, the only sound in the room being Steve’s heavy breathing in an attempt to stop himself from getting too worked up. His eyes were closed too, only for a moment longer, until they snapped open and over to you.

“Just please, stay away from the gym.” Your brother said, pleaded even, before he made a beeline to your front door.

So he was just going to leave? After telling you that Rumlow was possibly after you, he was leaving? He hadn’t even told you how his hand got all bruised.

“Wait, where are you going?” You called after him, rushing to try and catch up with his large strides.

“I need time to think, alright?” He didn’t meet your gaze as he made his way back down the hall, and eventually out of your sight.

It was no use trying to make him stay, you’d learned that when he was slowly hitting rock bottom in the early days after your mom passed away, and you’d barely be around him for five minutes before he left to spend some more time alone.

What if it was happening again? What if everything happening with Rumlow was pushing him to that point again?

The thought made your stomach turn.

You flinched when you felt a hand on your shoulder, but soon calmed down when you realised it was only Bucky. He must’ve figured that Steve had left suddenly, and that it was safe for him to stop hiding.

The boxer closed your front door, and turned to you hesitantly, concerned eyes scanning your features. “What’re you thinkin’, (Y/N)?”

He wasn’t going to ask you if you were okay, because of course you weren’t okay. But he could help you figure out your muddled thoughts, and that’s just what you needed for the moment.

Obviously, he’d heard the whole conversation. At least that meant you didn’t have to attempt to explain everything that’d just happened.

You bit the inside of your cheek, contemplating what the fuck you actually were thinking. “I’ve screwed all of this up, haven’t I?”

“What?” Bucky crinkled his brows, yet his voice remained gentle. “Why would you say that?”

A humourless laugh left your lips. “Well, if my dumb ass hadn’t ran into Brock Rumlow the other day, then maybe he wouldn’t be somehow using me to fuck with Steve, whatever that means.”

What did that even mean? Maybe your brother wasn’t exactly the only one that was being threatened.

Bucky sighed, reaching to brush a strand of hair out of your face, letting his hand rest against you jaw. “You can’t blame yourself for any of this, you hear me?”

“But-”

“No, no buts.” He placed his other hand on the other side of your face, so you were looking him right in the eye. “I’m gonna talk to Steve, and I’m gonna find out what that piece of shit is playing at. He won’t touch you-”

“It’s not me that I’m worried about, Bucky.” Your voice cracked, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. “I’ve never heard Steve sound so scared. You heard him yourself. I- I don’t know how the fuck he’s involved with him, but Rumlow must’ve said something to him yesterday that’s gotten him so shaken, a-and I don’t care if it’s about me. I don’t care b-because he can go and fuck himself, frankly... but if he’s using me to get Steve t-tangled up in his sick fucking games, then I feel like t-that’s on me, and I don’t know how to h-help him out of this one.”

You were hiccuping at this point, nose becoming stuffy and hot tears spilling over your lower lashes, because you couldn’t help him out of... well, whatever the hell was going on. As much as you didn’t want to allow Rumlow to get to you, you’d been told by the two people you trusted most that he was dangerous. He didn’t fuck around, and while you refused to believe that Steve could be involved with him for the wrong reasons, Rumlow had something against him.

And you weren’t so sure if you wanted to know what it was.

“C’mere.” You heard Bucky whisper in between your sobs, and you didn’t waste any time before circling your arms around his waist and burying your face into his chest. His hands moved from your face, one wrapping firmly around your shoulders and the other rubbing your back gently. “Babydoll, listen to me.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you nodded as best you could without moving away from him in the slightest.

“Rumlow’s only dangerous because of his involvement in the fighting ring; without it, he’s isn’t shit. He’s only using you to get to Steve because he knows that he can’t get to him on his own, and he knows how much Steve cares about you. He doesn't understand what it’s like to care about anyone else other than himself, and guys like that... they never win. Whatever he wants from Steve, he won’t get it, because Steve doesn’t ever let guys like him win, especially when they’re putting his sister in danger. He’s gonna come around, alright? I’m gonna help him out.”

You let out a long breath as you nodded weakly, every fibre in your body trusting that Bucky would be able to help your brother through what was going on.

You guessed that you could only hope everything didn’t go to shit in the process.

“Guess I’ve gotta let Peter know that he’s my new boyfriend now, huh?” You sniffled, your voice a little lighter than before.

Bucky chuckled heartily, and you felt the vibrations in his chest against your cheek. “Probably, unless you want Steve asking him all sorts of questions and him not knowing what the hell’s goin’ on.”

You chuckled too, weaker than Bucky had, but it was still genuine.

“...and James?”

“Yeah, gorgeous?” He spoke against your skin as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Can we, uh...” You lifted a hand away from Bucky’s waist to wipe away the remaining tears from you cheeks. “I know it’s not the best time right now, but can we just... consider telling Steve about us?”

You didn’t miss the way his body tensed at the question. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Steve to find out about the two of you yet, but he honestly wasn’t sure how his best friend would react. Especially since the reason you ran into Rumlow was because you were at the gym, and you were only at the gym to see him.

But, he wasn’t planning on losing you any time soon. He was in it for the long run with you, and he really didn’t want to lie about it to his friend anymore.

The boxer nodded, planting another reassuring kiss on your forehead and tilting your chin up to look at you properly. Your eyes were still a little red, tear tracks faintly evident on your cheeks. It was the first time he’d seen you cry, and it wasn’t something he especially liked seeing. “I wanna tell him too, but like you said, it’s not the best time right now. After all of this is over, yeah? We’ll figure somethin’ out.”

The corners of your mouth upturned. “Yeah, okay.”

Time had gotten on since Steve had asked Bucky to meet him at the gym, and he could only hope that things hadn’t gotten worse with Rumlow. However, judging by how anxious he was when talking to you, his hopes weren’t necessarily high.

He was reluctant to leave you alone after what happened; he knew that you’d be worrying about your brother continuously until you knew exactly what was happening, but you assured him that you’d be fine with time, and that you’d even invite Natasha over for the night to try and take your mind off things.

After enough convincing and a series of sweet kisses, Bucky eventually pried himself from your company and headed down to the gym, where Steve was pacing the almost empty gym, thoughts filled with doubt and worry racking his mind.

“You want out, Rogers? Fine, but you owe me. One match; I decide the time, the place, the rules, and the prize. Don’t delete my number - I’ll be in touch.”

The words were carved deep into Steve’s mind from the moment they left Brock Rumlow’s lips. It had always confused him, why out of everything the guy could want from him, he only wanted one boxing match. He’d never fought Rumlow before, but he’d seen Steve fight enough times to know that he wasn’t easily beaten.

But if that was what he wanted, then sure, why not agree to it? He’d likely win it anyway, and even if he didn’t, the prize was probably going to be cash. The blond had money put away for a rainy day, and he guessed the match against Rumlow would count as one of those if he did end up losing.

He was naive to think everything would be that simple.

Because Rumlow wanted you as the prize. He’d been waiting, like a predator for a chance to cleanly catch its prey, for a prize worth wanting to come along. He didn’t need any more cash or weapons, but Steve’s sister? That would be interesting.

You were young, beautiful, you had a certain charm to you that a lot of guys Rumlow knew would like. You were a girl that he wanted at his gym, a girl that would perhaps earn him quite a bit of cash when he was ready to trade you off.

He knew for a fact that Steve would object to letting you be the prize, even if he was sure that he’d win, Rumlow knew your brother wouldn’t put you on the line like that. But that was okay, because he had something, a video, that would shut Steve right up, and it ended up doing exactly that.

Steve couldn’t believe he was being blackmailed. Fucking blackmailed by Brock fucking Rumlow. He didn’t even realise he was being recorded at the time, he hadn’t even thought about that moment since it happened, and if that recording got into the hands of the police?

Well, Steve Rogers would be behind bars for life.

He paced even more, getting more antsy with each minute that Bucky still hadn’t arrived at the gym for, even flinching when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

His face fell at the message.

It’s time, Rogers. Match will be next Friday, 8pm, my gym. And bring your sister, we’ll want our prize as soon as possible after we win.

In all honesty, Steve didn’t know how the fuck things were going to turn out.

* * *

Taglist:

@asgcrds @fiannaofficial @peterparkerbabyyy @bxrnsfeyson @hotheadbarnes @founding-fuck-bois @broco8

#took me an hour to fuckin edit this what #time management? whats that #bucky barnes #boxer!bucky #bucky barnes au #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you

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eiirisworkshop · 4 years

Text

Avengers as Teachers AU Fic

For Good Intentions WIP Fest, details of which can be found @goodintentionswipfest

I have a lot of scraps of Avengers fics that, if I’m being honest, I’m never gonna finish. This is one of them--probably the one that has the most actually written.

***

Start of term is Monday, August 18th. Student move in is August 15th through 17th. All faculty are expected on campus to assist with move in. Any faculty who will be living in staff campus housing must move into their apartments during the week of August 4th through 10th.

Clint Barton set a cardboard box down on what was going to be his coffee table for the next nine months. His staff apartment was a bedroom, bathroom, and livingroom with kitchenet, all of it decked out in what seemed like Ikea's slightly classier cousin, though Clint had no idea where someone was supposed to get classier Ikea. He reached in his pocket, pulled out the note he'd found taped to the front door, and unfolded it. Neat, looping handwriting read, “Welcome, new guy, to the psychological crucible known as boarding school. Brace yourself, the Europeans are almost as crazy as the teenagers, have fun!”

“Heh,” Clint mused to himself, “that's not ominous at all.”

He shook his head, chuckled, and set to work unpacking. Shortly, he was interrupted by a knock at the door. He went to answer it and was met with the sight of a slim, redheaded woman leaning casually on the doorjamb. She grinned. “Hello neighbor.” She straightened up. “Everyone is talking about the newhire who's waited until the last minute to move in, but no one wants to be the first to snoop. I volunteered.” She held out a hand. “Barton, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” He shook the proffered hand. “Clint Barton.”

“Natasha Romanoff. I'm in the flat next door.” She nodded her head to indicate the apartment down the hall to her left, making her auburn curls bounce.

“I think you might be one of the crazy Europeans I've been warned about.”

The woman, Natasha, laughed, eyes glinting dangerously. “I think I might be. Did someone leave you a new guy note?”

“Yeah.” Clint snorted, fished the note back out of his pocket, and handed it to her.

She unfolded it and snorted. “Oh, Maria.”

“Maria?”

“Maria Hill. She's the school counselor. Does her best to keep us all sane.” Natasha handed the note back. “Tomorrow is the first teacher workday.”

“I know. Uh,” Clint stepped back, “d'you wanna come in?”

Natasha held up a hand. “No, that's okay. I have to finish up my own unpacking. See you tomorrow. Staff meeting starts at eight, don't sit next to the big blond if you value your hearing.”

“I'll keep that in mind.”

She sauntered the few steps down the hall to her door and he closed his.

The next morning, Clint took the stairs down from his apartment on the second floor and found himself in the middle of a group of three young women in the lobby of the staff housing building. The women stopped talking and eyed him. He cleared his throat awkwardly and grinned. “Is all the faculty but me and the headmaster beautiful women?”

One of the women, a fairly petite but curvy thing with curly dark hair and plastic-framed glasses, crossed her arms and studied him. “I think I like replacement Sitwell.”

“Darcy,” said one of the other two women, a dirty blond with an English accent, “you cannot call him 'replacement Sitwell.'” She sighed and shot a dark look at the third woman, who looked like she was probably some kind of mixed and was stifling a giggle. “I'm sorry. We're glad you've joined the crew. Now, we ought to all go or we're going to be late.”

The three women and Clint left the housing building and started across the green that lay between it, the main school building, and the student dormitory. The curly haired woman, Darcy, looped an arm through Clint's. “So, replacement Sitwell, since Jemma here doesn't think I should call you what you are, what should I call you?”

“My name's—”

“Clinton Barton.” The third woman shrugged. “I backed up all our digital files over the summer, I saw the hiring paperwork. I mean it's no secret or anything, I think most of the staff just didn't bother to look up when we heard Fury'd found a new lit teacher.”

“Skye does most of the school's IT support for the school and teaches two classes,” Jemma explained as she pulled open the door to the main building. “I teach biology and Latin, and Darcy—”

“Political science. And I'm the history department's bitch.”

The four of them filed down the hall and into the half full conference room across from the headmaster's office. There was a clump of people—two redheaded women that weren't Natasha, two dark haired men who both looked like they had some Latin blood in their pedigrees, two black men, and a woman with a long black ponytail—clustered around a decanter of coffee near the far corner, and three men were leaning on the edge of the conference table—a tall, muscular blond who Clint figured was the loud one Natasha had warned him of, a brunet with his hair pulled back into a spiky little tuft of a ponytail, and a slightly wiry man in a suit. The one with the ponytail glanced up, nudged the one in the suit, and nodded toward Clint, who was standing a bit awkwardly in the doorway, having been abandoned by his escort in favor of coffee. The man in the suit looked at him, stood, smiled, and held out a hand. “You must be Clint Barton.” The man clasped Clint's hand firmly. “I'm Phil Coulson, the other English teacher.”

Before either Phil could continue or Clint could respond, a voice from the other end of the room interrupted, “Excuse me, your first name is 'Professor.'”

It was one of the two vaguely Latin looking men from the group in the corner. He had dark, wavy hair dusted lightly with silver and a goatee that made him look like somebody's evil twin. Phil sighed and said conspiratorially to Clint. “Ignore him.”

“Whoa, hey, no, no, no. Don't ignore me.” The goateed man made his way around the table, cup of coffee in hand. Several other members of staff exchanged looks of amusement or concern. The other Latin looking man hung his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. The one with the goatee slung the arm that wasn't occupied with coffee around Clint's shoulders. “Hello there, new guy. Barton? Yeah. This your first teaching gig?”

“Uh, yes.” Clint glanced around for someone to rescue him but no volunteers stepped forward. Everyone was either watching or had returned to their own conversations.

“Well, you see, it doesn't matter what you think your name is, the kids decide what your name is. For instance, Bruce over there—Bruce, say hi.”

The other Latin looking man raised a hand in greeting.

“Thank you, big guy. Bruce is Dr. Banner. I, on the other hand, am Mr. Stark despite holding several doctorates.” Mr. Stark shrugged. “Your department mate is Professor Coulson and always Professor Coulson and the only teacher in the whole damn school who's consistently professor-anything. I think it's something to do with a suit.”

“Tony, don't traumatize the new guy.” Natasha had just walked into the conference room, flanked by a brunet woman, both of them in slacks and blouses.

“I'm not traumatizing him, Natasha. I'm educating him.”

The brunet woman removed Tony's arm from Clint's shoulders. “As your students will and do attest, your brand of education is often mildly traumatizing. Shoo.”

Tony made a sound of mock hurt and swept back to the corner with coffee. “I will finish educating you later.”

Clint turned to his rescuer. “Maria?”

She smiled thinly. “At your service. Can we please all start sitting.”

Everyone found their way into seats as another clump—three men, one blond with a goatee, one who Clint at a guess would have said was Mongolian, and one huge, redheaded, and bearded—filed into the room. The new group sat around the woman with the long black ponytail, who let out the long suffering sigh of a much harassed elder sister. Clint sat next to Natasha at the end of the table opposite the tall blond who had been talking with Phil. She leaned to whisper to him, “You're avoiding the wrong blond.”

“Huh?”

“Hello friends!” a voice boomed from the doorway, making Clint jump and fumble in his pocket for a remote he repeatedly hit the volume down button on. A muscular mountain of a man with long blond hair was standing just inside the threshold with a waif of a woman at his side. He beamed at the group at the table. “I hope you've all had a wonderful summer.”

The small woman tugged on the big man's arm. “Let's sit down, dear.”

Clint glanced at Natasha. “You meant that one.”

She smirked and nodded. Over the next few minutes, six other people came in: a woman with long titian hair back in a french braid; a tall, slender man with black hair; and older woman with blond curls who put a hand on the shoulders of the tall, thin man and the loud blond one before taking a seat next to the woman with the braid; a severe looking Asian woman; a young man with tight, flaxen curls who Jemma pulled the chair next to her out for; and a slightly heavy man with short, dark hair. That left only one chair empty at the head of the table. Soft chattered fluttered around the table. The small woman who'd come in with the loud blond was sitting next to Clint on the side that Natasha wasn't on. She smiled up at Clint. “Hi, I'm Jane Foster.”

“Clint Barton.” Clint smiled back, hand returning to his pocket to hit the volume up button a couple times. “Nice to meet you.”

Jane tilted her head curiously. “Are you wearing headphones?”

“Uh, no.” Clint unlooped the little grey plastic gadget from behind one ear and held it up. “Hearing aids.”

“Oh.” Jane blinked. “I am so—”

“It's fine.” He put the aid back on. “I'm not weird about it.”

“Oh. That's good.”

To Clint's other side, Natasha's eyebrows were raised in amusement with the realization of how ironic her earlier warning about avoiding the loud blond for the sake of his hearing was. Clint elected to ignore the other raised eyebrows around the table.

A tall man with an eyepatch dressed in a black suit strode into the room, flicking through a folder, and kicked the door closed behind him. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen.” Headmaster Fury dropped his folder at the head of the table in front of the empty chair. “Hope you all took damn nice vacation's 'cause in one week we're gonna be overrun with adolescents and all their special brand of crazy. Before then, we have to get shit done. First order of business, everybody say hi to Clint Barton. He's filling the position in the English department left open by Sitwell's—” he cleared his throat “—resignation. Try not to scare him off. Stark, that means you.” Most of the room chuckled while Tony put a hand to his heart and declared he was wounded. Fury kept talking right over him, diving straight into an hour of bureaucratic housekeeping and discussion of curriculum. The headmaster flipped a page in his folder. “Now that that's done, about extra curriculars. The chess club Sitwell ran is out unless someone wants to take over sponsorship.”

“I could do it.” Fitz, the young man with tight, curly hair said, his accent distinctly Scottish.

“Great. Other than that, all the extra curriculars from last year will remain the same. Stark's damn robotics club—which had better not blow anything up this term—drama club, and writer's club, Rhodes has his co-ed boy scouts thing, Hogan's still doing the test prep thing, and there's our one sorry excuse for a sport other than track and field, cheer leading. Now, Barton has volunteered to coach an archery team. Any objections?” There was silence, a few shrugs, and some head shaking. “Congatulations, Coach Barton, you now get to be one of this school's crazy blond coaches of random sports.”

After the meeting, the staff were released to prepare for the arrival of the students in a week. Up on a chair, taping a poster to the wall of his new classroom, Clint asked over his shoulder, “So, there's twenty-eight members of staff, including me?”

“Right.” Phil was sitting on a student desk, eating Chinese delivery. “Are you going to eat anything?”

“Not hungry.” Clint stepped down from the chair. “Not right now at least. I'll get pizza or something later.”

“Since we're both teaching freshman and junior classes, we might want to compare syllabi at some point.”

“Yeah, sure.” Clint sat on another desk. “But so you, me, Fury, Stark, Natasha, Maria, uh, Banner. That's seven I can name.”

“Relax, you've got all week.” Phil held out a box of fried rice.

Clint took to box and a plastic fork. “I've got a week to learn the names and faces of more than two dozen people, settle into a new apartment, and prep for my first ever first day of class as the teacher.”

“You've done student teaching, and assistant teaching, right? You'll be fine.”

“Somehow I doubt it's the same.” Clint shoveled a few bites of rice into his mouth. “I'm also a little scared Stark's gonna make good on saying he'd finish 'educating' me and then whatever he says is gonna be the only way I think of everybody.”

Phil laughed. “You just met Tony today and you've already figured him out.”

“So, he teaches...math?”

“Yup. He and Fitz make up the math department.”

“Fitz?”

“Scottish kid.”

“Oh, right. Lots of Europeans on the staff.”

“Twelve.”

“Wow.” Clint chuckled. “You know, Maria left a note on my apartment door. She warned me the Europeans are almost as crazy as the students.”

“She's not wrong. The Brits aren't bad, the Norwegians are, well, they're interesting. And then there's Natasha.”

“Am I right to be scared of her?”

“Oh yeah.”

Later that afternoon, Clint was sitting behind his desk, hoping the damn thing would feel less awkward by the end of the year and going through lesson plans when there was a knock on the doorframe. He looked up. Tony Stark was leaning in the doorframe. In his band T-shirt and jeans he would have looked more like a high school student than a teacher if it weren't for the grey hairs and the bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand. He raised the bottle in a kind of salute. “I come to edjumacate you!”

“Are you drinking in the school?” Clint dropped his pen, busy gaping at the math teacher.

“No way, Fury would have me skinned alive.” He shoved off from the wall, took a few steps into the room, and swished the amber liquid in his bottle. “This is tea. I have plenty of booze bottles and it's fun to watch people's faces.” He took a swig and perched on one of the desks. “As I was saying this morning, the kids decide your name.”

“I'm trying to lesson plan right now.”

Tony waved a hand dismissively. “You've got all week.”

“As I keep getting told.” Clint sighed, picked up his pen, and capped it. “So the kids name us.”

“Right. So I'm Mr. Stark, Bruciekins is Dr. Banner—I guess he just looks like a Dr. somebody, probably the glasses—Coulson's Professor Coulson. I told you those this morning. Everybody calls the Scott Fitz, students and staff, except when they're talking directly to him, the kids call him Mr. Fitz, which I think sounds like it ought to be the name of a cartoon dog. Simmons is just Simmons unless she's just professor; she's never Professor Simmons—”

“Sorry, who's Simmons?”

“British chick, light brown hair, bio teacher.”

“Jemma?”

“Right. Skye is Skye—have you met Skye?” Tony held up a hand as though to tell himself to stop talking so Clint could answer.

“Yeah, I met her this morning. She does the school's I.T, right?”

“And teaches computer science. She's pretty cool. Thor—big loud blond one with the tiny wife—is Coach Thor to his face, otherwise just Thor. He's super formal and weird but really friendly at the same time so you almost have to be on first name basis with the man. On that note, hearing aids, do they have volume control?”

Clint smirked. “Yes.” He pulled the little remote out of his pocket. “Remote volume control.”

“Okay, I'm officially a little jealous. Everybody needs volume control when Thor's around. Anyway, his wife, Jane—I know you met Jane—she's Dr. Foster or Absent Minded Professor Foster when she's being particularly spacey. Sif is the only one who's managed to name herself, she tells the kids they have to pronounce her last name correctly or they have to call her Lady Sif. Nobody can pronounce her last name—it's some crazy jumble of consonants and vowels with extra lines—and the punishment for saying it wrong is extra vocab homework so all the kids call her Lady Sif.”

“Okay, that's hilarious.”

“It is. But I've got a better one. Steve, other big blond, he's the art teacher, kids call him Captain. He's got no military background or anything,—he was scrawny as hell in high school, I think I remember him telling me they wouldn't even let him join ROTC—never been with the police, doesn't do sports. No, they call him Captain 'cause he's got this dinky little boat that he's ridiculously proud of. Seriously, do not diss the man's boat.”

“I'll remember that.”

“You should.” Tony took another drink of his tea. “Oh, before I forget, and I will forget because I never have to remind people of this, every year after the first week of classes, I throw a faculty pool party. You're invited. There will be alcohol and barbecue.”

“Cool, thanks.” Clint laughed a little. “You don't live on campus, do you?”

“Naw.” Tony shrugged. “I've got a place in town.”

“Rich jackass has a mansion in town.” Bruce had appeared in the doorway, a plastic bin of batteries, light bulbs, and wires in his arms.

“It is not a mansion,” Tony said defensively.

Bruce looked scathingly at him over his glasses. “It's a six bedroom, three story house—four stories, counting the basement—with a pool and home theatre.”

“Okay, maybe it is a mansion,” Tony conceded. “So, yeah, pool party at my mansion for everybody who survives the next two weeks.”

*** Chapter 2

Sunday night, Clint found himself crammed onto Natasha's classier-than-Ikea couch along with Maria, Phil, Bruce, Skye, and the Russian herself, all of them eating fried chicken out of a cardboard bucket—except for Bruce, who had tofu tacos. Clint sighed. “No one told me 'student move in' meant 'ninth circle of hell.'”

“I think, by now,” Skye said through a full mouth, her long straight hair pulled up into a very messy bun, “the move in/hell association is so automatic we don't think to say it.”

“Preach.” Natasha sucked a trace of chicken off her thumb with a dignity that should not have been possible.

Clint snorted. “On the bright side, I think I've finally learned everybody's names.”

“One day before you have to learn two hundred more,” Bruce pointed out dryly.

“Uhg, don't remind me.” Clint leaned against the back of the couch.

Phil chuckled. “Seating charts and class rosters are good crutches.”

“That they are.” Natasha poked Clint in the shin with the tip of her pointy shoe. “But if you know everybody's names, let's hear it.”

Clint rolled his eyes. “Natasha, Maria, Skye, Phil, and Bruce—obviously.”

Maria grinned over a sporkfull of mac'n'cheese. “Obviously. Go on.”

“Headmaster Fury. Tony. Thor, Jane, Loki, Frigga, Sif, uh, Sygin, Hogan, Fandral, Volstagg. Other Hogan.”

“Happy.” Bruce tossed one of his taco wrappers into the trash across the room. “Other Hogan's first name is Happy.”

“Right.” Clint took a breath. “Pepper, Peggy, Steve, uh, James Barnes who's Bucky, and James Rhodes who's Rhodey. Jemma and Fitz. Sam. Darcy.” Clint was quiet for a minute. “I'm missing someone.”

“May,” Phil provided. “Malinda May.”

Clint rubbed a hand over his face. “I'm going to die this week. If I don't drown in teenagers I'm gonna get murdered by one seriously intimidating female veteran or another.” He glanced at Natasha. “There's what, three of you? Four?”

Natasha lightly smacked the back of his head. “I'm not military. But I will absolutely kill you.”

“I think that's my cue to go to bed.” Clint stood. “Thanks for dinner.”

As he let himself out of the small apartment, Maria called after him, “My office is room number seven if you start to go nuts.”

Coffee in hand the next morning, Clint was almost to his classroom when Natasha cut him off in the hallway. “I actually have an excuse to kill you now.”

Clint blinked at her. “Hm?”

“You got up at five thirty and I can hear your alarm clock through the wall.”

“I went for a run and I'm nearly deaf.”

“Don't they make vibrating clocks?”

“Yeah, I have one. It makes noise too. I'm not completely deaf.” He stepped around her, continued on to his room, and set his bag on the desk at the front of the room—the desk he had determined not to sit behind. It was early enough still that there were almost no students around, Clint's classroom was completely empty, but as the clock ticked closer to seven-twenty, four hundred odd fourteen to eighteen year olds descended upon the school building, uniforms neatly pressed. Clint had never gone to a school that required uniforms but—watching the first few sophomores of his first-hour class trickle into the room, their charcoal slacks or skirts, white shirts, and cobalt ties or ribbons all tidy—he highly doubted the movie like perfection lasted more than a couple days.

One dark haired girl who had the sleeves of her white buttondown rolled up past her elbows had plopped herself into a desk at the front of the room with her bag propped against the leg of her chair, and was studying Clint over a piece of toast she'd apparently filched from the dormitory dining room. After a long moment of contemplation she said, “You're new.”

Clint resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He was supposed to be the adult here. “Yeah.”

“What're you doing here?”

“Fury bought me from the circus.”

The girl snorted. “Right.”

“Okay, so I ran away from the circus.” Clint shrugged. “One way or another I get to make you read Shakespeare now.”

The girl frowned. Behind her, two boys who must have been twins snickered. The bell rang and the rest of the class flooded in, filling all thirty desks. Clint took a deep breath and stepped to the front of the room. “Good morning and welcome to tenth-grade English. I'm Clint Barton, Mr. Barton will do just fine, but I've heard from your other teachers that you're all likely to rename me.” He paused, relieved to see at least a dozen grins among the class. “I haven't got a clue who any of you are, so I'm going to take role. If you go by a nickname or if I butcher the pronunciation, tell me. Okay?” He snagged his first-hour roster off his desk. “Katherine Bishop.”

The dark haired girl with the rolled up sleeves waved her half-eaten toast. “It's Kate.”

By lunch time, Clint had made it through two hours worth of sophomores and one hour of juniors. Phil, in whose classroom he was eating, had survived three hours of seniors.

“It wouldn't be so bad,” Phil said, punctuating his statement by stabbing a meatball with a fork, “if it weren't for this one kid, Peter. Two girls like him, he's been going back and forth not quite dating both of them since they were freshmen, and there's another guy who, I don't know if he actually likes Peter or if he's trying to be funny but he flirts shamelessly and tactlessly with the poor kid. All four of them are in my first hour.”

Clint cringed sympathetically. “Sounds exhausting.”

“It is.”

“I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Couple of boys in my first class, last name Maximoff. That's really not the most common name on earth so I've gotta ask: Any relation to the politician?”

“She's their mother.”

Clint nearly choked on a mouth full of pasta. “Okay, I knew this was a high end school, but I wasn't expecting that.”

Phil shrugged. “We're close enough to D.C. that we're a convenient place for better off government types, diplomats, and other luminaries to send their kids, get them away from the city. And we're a safe place for them too. I know you've noticed how much of the staff is ex military.”

“I assumed there was some magnet force under the school that attracts badasses.”

Phil laughed. “It's called Nick Fury and he's in the office, not under it.”

After lunch, Clint had another class of juniors, which went almost exactly like the one before lunch. At the end of that class, while two of the more interesting juniors filed out, sharing some not entirely typical teenaged chatter—“Still think it's funny they've got the blind kid in the deaf guy's class.” “He's not Deaf, David. I know you know that.”—the one class of the day Clint had been really dreading began filing in: freshmen. As the class filtered in, Clint noticed that the freshmen were even more perfectly pressed than the older students. They stared at him with a wary scrutiny. A sturdy Latina girl dropped into a desk and crossed her arms defiantly. Clint raised his eyebrows. “You okay?”

“Class I just had is full of dicks.”

“It wasn't that bad.” A boy with headphones around his neck dumped his bag on the desk next to her.

“You're the worst out of all of them, chico.” The girl sounded ready to punch someone out and looked like she could do it and make it hurt.

“Okay, okay,” Clint intervened, “you, how old are you?”

“Me?” The boy pointed to himself dumbly.

“Yeah you.”

“Fourteen.”

“What's your name?”

“Peter.”

Clint looked at the girl. “Your name?”

“America.”

“Okay.” Clint shrugged. “Peter here is a fourteen year old boy. As a former fourteen year old boy myself, let me say that they are more or less all dicks.”

America blinked. “I have never heard a teacher call anybody a dick before.”

“Welcome to high school.” Clint winked. She grinned.

The boy, Peter, leaned forward. “Are you wearing headphones?”

Clint sighed. “They're hearing aids.”

“Dude, are you deaf?” Peter sounded excited.

“No, I'm Hard of Hearing. If I were completely deaf, hearing aids wouldn't do me any good.”

America and Peter shared a look then both shrugged.

The freshmen didn't turn out to be as bad as Clint had feared. The next hour of sophomores, though, was the last class of the day, and Clint had to fight to be listened to. After that it was curriculum talk with Phil, Skye making him look like an idiot while showing him how to use the gradebook software, dinner in the dining hall, old cartoons, then bed. The rest of the week went about the same.

Friday, as soon as the final bell rang, the kids all rushed out. Clint called after them. “Archery club first meeting is a week from today!”

The last of the kids left and Clint turned to his desk and the stack of persuasive essays he'd had his students write him about their favorite movies with the promise that each class would get to watch the movie that got pitched the best within their class. There was a quiet whirring behind him and he turned to see something like a streamlined, somewhat scaled-down assembly line robot trundle up to him, a slip of paper held in its three fingered “hand.” It extended its arm with a soft hum of servos that Clint would have described as curious if he didn't know better.

“Uh.” Clint took the slip of paper. A note was scrawled on it in a messy angular handwriting:

This is Dum-E. He's not very smart but he tries. New guy, this is your reminder to grab your trunks and get your butt to my not-a-mansion @ 4

-A. Stark

Tony's address was on the back of the note. Clint hesitated then awkwardly patted the robot's “head.” “Thanks, uh, Dum-E.”

The bot whirred with what might have been pride and turned to leave—presumably headed back to Tony's classroom. It bumped into a desk on its way out. Clint frowned.

A couple hours later, he was walking with Natasha to her car to head to Tony's party—she had volunteered to, or rather insisted that she drive. Clint stepped into the sleek, black sedan. “So, Tony has a robot?”

“Yeah.” Natasha started the car and pulled out of her space. “He's got two.”

“He has two robots?”

“He's disgustingly over qualified to be teaching high school.” She gunned it down the winding drive to the main road.

Once they stopped, Clint clambered out of Natasha's car. “I am riding back with somebody else, did you used to race? Holy crap that's a big house.”

Natasha snorted, leading the way along a path from the driveway around to an extremely expensive looking fence over which the sounds of revelry and smells of barbecue floated. Her beaded flipflops smacked quietly against the flagstones. “Four stories and a basement.”

Clint followed. “Is he married?”

“Are you joking? Stark, married? Ha. No. He lives here alone.” She unlatched the gate and pushed it open.

Stark's back yard looked like something out of a magazine, fire pit, koi pond, perfectly green grass, question mark shaped pool with hot tub waterfall, and trapezoidal deck with outdoor kitchen. The hot tub—accessed from the deck, spilling into the main pool—was full of beautiful bikini clad women, namely the school counselor, IT expert, biology teacher, and the history department's bitch. The last of whom, Darcy, stood and waved at Natasha and Clint. “Hey! The Cyrillic Cyclone and the new guy are here!”

Everyone—Stark, Banner, and the guy with the spiky ponytail at the grill; the Scottish guy, Pepper, and the big blond art teacher in the pool; and redhead who wasn't Pepper or Natasha and the two ex-military black guys leaning on the deck rail—all looked around. Natasha waved back and hissed to Clint, “Stop staring at Darcy's boobs,” before striding across the yard, dropping her purse and coverup on a lawn chair, and settling in as beautiful woman number five in the hot tub.

Clint quickly averted his gaze, shook his head, then went to drop his own things on a lawn chair, then stepped into the pool. Pepper floated by, hugging an inflatable orca. She nodded to him. “Hey, can you swim with those things?”

“Huh?” Clint hopped down the last step up to his waist in water. “My hearing aids?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you kidding?” He snorted. “Ever since I was a kid I've refused to have hearing aids I can't get wet.”

“Great!” Grinning, Pepper released the orca and splashed him.

He flinched, laughed, and splashed her back. Some of the splash went past her and caught Steve on the shoulder. He turned to glare at Clint.

“Hey!” Clint laughed. “Pepper started it.”

“Did she now?”

“Steve, Steve! Wait!” Pepper spluttered laughter through a face full of water.

“Steve, play nice.” The guy with the spiky ponytail walked to the edge of the pool, munching a fresh made cheeseburger.

“I am playing nice, Buck.” Steve waded over to the edge of the pool. “Can I have some of that?”

The guy with the ponytail rolled his eyes, “Sure,” knelt, fed Steve a bite of his burger, then kissed him.

Clint felt his eyebrows arch. “I think I missed a memo.”

Fitz chuckled behind him. “This is the first time you've been around them outside of work hours, isn't it?”

“We behave when the kids are around.” Bucky set his burger and paper plate down.

“If you can call giving each other bedroom eyes across the lunchroom 'behaving,'” redhead who wasn't Pepper or Natasha came up behind Bucky and pushed him into the pool.

He came up spluttering, long bangs in his face, dripping. “Peggy!”

“Man, I love this school,” Clint laughed.

Peggy jumped in the water. “I went to university with Steve, I've been pushing both of them around for years.”

*** Bonus Scene

“Sonnet one forty one.” Clint waved his book dramatically. “Now before anyone starts going on about 'oh what I sweet love poem' I want you to think about what he's actually saying here. Billy, would you read the first two lines for us?”

The darker haired of the Maximoff twins flattened out the page of his own book. “In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes,/For they in thee a thousand errors note.”

“And what does that mean?” Clint shoved off from his desk and paced down the center aisle between his student's desks. “He's saying to his girlfriend that his eyes don't love her 'cause he can see, visually, a thousand things wrong with her.”

The lighter twin frowned. “Are we sure he's talking to a girl?”

“This time, yes. It does say 'she' in the last line. Shakespeare does have some sonnets that we know were addressed to a young man, we can argue about the nature of that relationship later. Anyway, so he doesn't like what he sees. Couple lines later he tells us, basically, that if I met this woman I'd want to turn my hearing aids off her voice is so bad.”

The class chuckled.

#fanfic #Avengers #marvel #clint barton #good intentions wip fest

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fic-for-fic-sake · 4 years

Text

First Date?

A/N: Okay so I wrote this in March during the beginning part of quarantine so keep that in mind while you read. I hope you enjoy it and as always; likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

“Natasha you cannot be serious.” You deadpanned, making a face at her over facetime.

“I am! I read it in a Buzzfeed article, tinder is letting you swipe all over the globe to find a quarantine buddy. It’s a thing.” She pouted from her end of the line, cutting up vegetables for her lunch.

“I mean that’s ridiculous, are people really dating over facetime? Is this what the world has come to?” You asked, flopping down on your bed.

“I mean, life goes on, even if you can’t go outside. Besides, I think it would be good for you, you’ve been in quarantine for more than a week now and you can’t keep facetiming me. Find yourself a new buddy, it could be fun.” She retorted, popping a piece of chopped zucchini into her mouth before throwing the rest in the pan on the stove.

“What are you making anyway? It sounds loud.” You responded, ignoring her observation.

“Stir fry, want some?” She teased, letting you see the pan with everything in it that made your mouth water. Red pepper and zucchini along with broccoli, chicken, and beautiful white rice.

“I wish we were together so you could cook for me.” You moped, feeling your stomach growl with the thought of food. When was the last time you ate again? It was hard to keep track when you couldn’t leave your apartment.

“It’s not my fault you moved to Spain.”

“It’s only for a year! And how was I supposed to know this would happen!” You yelled at her through the phone, you doubted it had the same impact because you were staring at her kitchen ceiling as she tended to her lunch.

“Just think about what I said, I gotta go! I’ll call you back later.” She said, as she blew you a kiss and then hung up, leaving you to look at your own tattered reflection in your black phone screen.

You sighed as you padded to your kitchen in sweatpants to grab a pint of ice cream you had been working on. You popped a spoon in your mouth and scrolled through your phone, looking for the article Natasha was talking about. Sure enough after opening the Buzzfeed app, you saw that people were indeed doing first dates over facetime. It didn’t sound like a terrible idea, you only really had to look presentable from the waist up and you did kind of miss dressing in normal people clothes.

Spooning ice cream into your mouth you redownloaded the tinder app and started swiping through. People from all over the globe popped up on your phone. New York, London, San Francisco, Berlin, Seoul, and New Delhi. You swiped for longer than anticipated and got a few matches but none of them really panned out until you found one profile in particular.

Steve Rogers, an artist from Brooklyn who worked at a law firm, interesting combination. His very first picture drew you in, dark blond almost brunet locks swept to the side, a full beard, and a killer smile. Okay, you were interested. You scrolled through his pictures to find one of him in a suit, presumably at work, another of him in a cream colored cable knit sweater looking out into the middle distance, and the last one was him standing shirtless on a beach, hair slightly shaggier and coffee mug in hand. Holy shit. He was gorgeous. You swiped right and nearly dropped your phone out of shock when it said that it was a match.

No way. No way would this literal Adonis of a human being swipe right on you, but who were you to argue with the tinder algorithm. You got up to put your ice cream back in the freezer when your phone made a pinging sound. A message from Mr. Handsome himself.

Steve: Hey

You: Hi

Steve: Madrid huh? What time is it there?

You: A little after 9pm

Steve: What are you up to?

You: Oh you know, the usual, staring at a wall because I can’t leave the apartment

Steve: Wow, it’s like I’m there with you.

You chucked at his dry humor. You and Steve talked for pretty much the rest of the night before you told him you were going to fall asleep on him if you stayed up any longer. Before he let you log out for the night, he asked you on a date, over facetime. You smiled so hard you swore you tore a muscle in your face. You accepted his proposal and agreed to facetime tomorrow evening for you and tomorrow afternoon for him, so you could cook together.

The next day you were freaking out, deciding what to wear. What does one wear to a facetime first date? This was uncharted territory for all parties involved and the internet, where you would usually go for advice, was no help either. Natasha advised just wearing casual clothing, and she was right. You didn’t want to look formal just sitting around your apartment, that would be weird. You decided on a pair of light wash jeans and a baby pink sweatshirt hoodie from Calvin Klein. You kept your hair down, a simple style. You decided against makeup because after the call ended you were just going to take it off anyway. Perfect, you looked good and casual, not like you hadn’t left your house in four days.

You made sure you had all the ingredients in front of you for a simple dijon sauce and chicken. You were debating whether or not you should wear an apron when your phone rang, it was Steve. You propped your phone up against the wall before you answered.

“Hi!” You exclaimed, adjusting the phone before you stepped back into the frame.

“Hey.” Steve’s voice rang out through your empty kitchen. You took a minute to admire what he was wearing. A plain gray long sleeve shirt hugged his arm muscles and black jeans were on his legs. His hair was swept to the side and his beard was neatly trimmed, truly the picture of perfection.

“Are you ready to cook?” You questioned, pointing your wisk at the camera which garnered a chuckle from him.

“What are you making?” He questioned, as he opened the door to his fridge and began to root around for ingredients, giving you a perfect view of his lower half. You tried not to stare at the image of his perfect ass on the frame, instead focusing on lighting the stove and beginning to chop up some garlic.

“Chicken with a dijon sauce.” You replied, brows knitted in concentration. “What about you?”

“Funny, I’m making chicken noodle soup.” He replied, laying out his celery on the cutting board and also beginning to chop.

“God this is strange.” You commented as you turned on your stove and put some olive oil in the pan.

“Strange good, or strange bad?” Steve implored, putting the chopped celery aside and now moving on to the carrots.

“Yeah, I haven’t decided yet.” You chuckled a bit as you threw your chicken breasts into the pan. “How many times have you made chicken noodle soup?” You wondered.

“I’ve been making it for years, it’s my mom’s recipe.” He explained, a smile on his face as the memory. “It’s kind of a comfort thing and these days I’ll take comfort wherever I can get it.”

“You and me both Steve.” You replied automatically, flipping the chicken in the pan. He laughed and the two of you made polite conversation as you continued cooking your respective meals.

“Okay, you ready to eat?” He asked, ladling his soup into a cream colored deep ceramic bowl.

“My mouth is already watering.” You jested as you plated up your chicken and broccoli and drizzled a healthy amount of sauce over the top of everything. You both went to each of your fridges and grabbed the same bottle of chilled white wine. You had both decided on Verdejo white wine on your suggestion that it was amazing. He said he trusted your recommendation.

You sat at your plain kitchen table in your small apartment, looking into the phone and seeing he lived in less humble dwellings. You could see a beautiful large window with what you assumed showed a spectacular view of the city. He poured his wine into an intricate stemmed glass while you poured yours into a glass cup. You laughed.

“What is it?” He questioned, a small smile playing on his lips. Oh how that smile took your breath away.

“I just think it’s funny that I have a washing machine in my kitchen, my walls are yellowing, and I’m drinking wine out of a cup.” You said, gesturing to your surroundings. “While you are living in a beautiful apartment and have the perfect drinking vessel for your wine.”

“Yeah but you’re only in Spain for a year right? Work with whatcha got.” He said with a shrug of his shoulders, “I went to Romania with a friend of mine and we stayed in this little rundown shack with newspapers on the window and we didn’t have electricity.”

“Wow Romania, what brought you there?”

“I was commissioned to do a painting of the Romanian Athenaeum in Bucharest.”

“Steve that’s amazing!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands up in the air, “you must be a really talented artist, why’d you switch jobs?

“I didn’t so much as switch but take a backseat in art. I loved it but it didn’t pay the bills. When I first got to New York I was living on my friend Bucky’s couch, and months later he was kind enough to offer me a position at his law firm.” Steve explained, stopping intermittently to take spoonfuls of soup.

“That’s incredible. I wish I could paint.” You added, putting a forkful of dijon chicken into your mouth. “But art was never my strong suit.”

Before he could provide a response, he brought the wine glass up to his lips and your movements halted as he swallowed a few sips of wine. You wondered what he would think of your recommendation. After a beat he wore the biggest smile on his face.

“Doll, this wine is amazing! How did you know about this?” He asked incredulously.

You could feel yourself blush at the pet name but recovered quickly, “When I studied abroad in Barcelona I went to a few wine tastings and they always had Verdejo and it was always my favorite, hands down.”

You and Steve seemed to have no problem coming up with things to talk about. Your dinner time had long since passed and now you were yawning every few sentences and you could feel your eyes drooping.

“Looks like someone’s tired.” Steve teased, a soft smile playing on those petal pink lips of his. No matter how tired you were you could still feel the need to press your lips against his. After a few more yawns Steve insisted that you hang up and go to sleep which you did begrudgingly. Ten minutes later you sent him a picture of you in your pajamas and tucked under the covers of your small bed. To which he responded with a picture of his own, thumbs up and face beaming.

You had to remind yourself to thank Natasha for forcing you to do this tinder business in the first place.

#steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers fanfic #mcu fanfic #reader insert #avengers fanfic

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squiishiichaos · 5 years

Note

Rikuroku? And they only start getting along after they make sora cry ((maybe out of frustration bc they were always arguing or fighting)) and learn they have a ton in common

(Anon. What the fuck. Why would you make me do this to Sora?

…but okay. Here you go.)

_______________

Sometimes, life was like glass–fragile and easily broken. Other times, no matter how hard Roxas slammed the bottle against a tile counter, it just refused to fucking break.

Sometimes–like now–it was a bit of both.

Staring at his long-time best friend on the brink of tears, he could do nothing but glare at their only mutual friend where he stood leering sidelong at the floor from his place leaned stoically against the wall.

With his hands folded across his chest, Riku looked angrier than he had any right being considering he was the one who started this whole fucking thing. If he had just listened to Roxas the last eight-hundred times he told him to leave him the fuck alone, maybe Sora wouldn’t look like someone had kicked his goddamn puppy.

But no. Of course not.

Because Riku just had to march his ass into the gym at the exact same time Roxas was using it to conveniently skip class and he just had to give him that fucking look like he was the worst piece of garbage on this fucking green Earth. And yeah, okay, maybe he had jumped the gun when he asked him what the fuck he was looking at, but could you blame him?

How Sora could even put up with accusatory looks like that was fucking beyond him, but then again, with all the glares pointed at him, maybe Sora didn’t know the all-consuming rage it brought along with it.

He certainly did now–if Riku’s bloody nose was anything to go by. Though–and Roxas would never admit this out loud–Riku had managed to slug him a good couple times before their friend came to the rescue.

Then–then–he had the audacity to tell him he was fucking lucky. What bullshit! Lucky for who? Himself, maybe, because Roxas was just getting warmed up.

“Stop it!”

Roxas paled as the Brunet tried–and failed–to compose himself with a sniffling breath. “Stop what? I’m not even doing anything!”

“I know you, Roxas! Don’t you dare try and tell me that if I wasn’t standing right here, you wouldn’t go right back to fighting him!”

Oh, no, there was no question about that.

So, he stayed silent and let that glassy glare bore right through to his soul as Sora seethed, “that’s what I thought.” A low growl that had no right coming out of Sora’s mouth–of all places–was followed by a drag of hands down sun-kissed skin. “You guys cannot keep doing this. It was okay when you were just teenagers, but we are about to graduate University, guys! You’re too old for this shit!”

Oh, fuck. Riku and Roxas shared the same wide-eyed look from across the gym as that one out-of-place word set off alarm bells in both their minds.

But before either of them could dare say a word to try and assuage the obvious hue of anger dusting the Brunet’s cheeks, he was already huffing out the last signs of tears from his lungs and staring them both down with hands poised dangerously on his hips.

“Look,” he began with a sharp edge, “This is the last time. I want to be friends with both of you without biting my nails any time I want to invite the both of you. I’m not asking for much, here. I don’t care if you hate each other, just figure shit out so you don’t get me arrested as an accomplice in murder.

“Now,” and he clapped his hands loud enough that they both nearly jumped, “I’m gonna give you guys some time alone. Talk. Fight. Blow each other. I don’t fucking care, just…please. I will not choose between the two of you.”

With that, the Brunet stalked over to the door and left two behind to stare at his wake.

The click of the door shutting came with a tension that settled in a miasma between them thicker than any mystery meat the cafeteria back in Twilight Town had ever served. It was suffocating. Debilitating. But it also came with a punch to the gut that had Roxas right back into the same fight-or-flight response that got them into this mess in the first place.

His conscience told him, this is where you say sorry, but the devil sitting pretty on his shoulder whispered, make him eat shit and grovel.

Guess which one he fucking chose. “This is all your fault.”

“Excuse me?” At least Riku had the decency to sound as annoyed as Roxas felt. “You attacked me, remember? All I did was open the fucking door!”

“Oh, horseshit! You could’ve just ignored me and gone somewhere else!”

“Where else would you like me to go, huh?”

“Literally anywhere I’m not!”

“Well, sorry to break it to you, Roxas, I don’t know where the fuck you are at every fucking hour of the goddamn day! I know this might be hard for your paranoid mind to understand, but sometimes, I actually do shit that doesn’t revolve around you. Most of the time, in fact!”

Okay, that did it. “What the actual fuck, Reek? You make it sound like I’m obsessed with you or something!”

“Oh, like you’re not?” Roxas actually reeled back at that one. Is that how it seemed? Like he had a-a-grade school crush or something?

“Fuck no! Eww, why the fuck would I ever be obsessed with you?!”

Green jades narrowed into a piercing leer. “You’ve been the bane of my existence since we were fourteen-fucking-years-old. Any time I tried to just hang out with Sora, you’d get all defensive–”

“Yeah, because you hogged him all to yourself! You literally threw a tantrum for three days straight because he asked Kairi to the Beach Ball instead of you!” Riku made rolling his eyes somehow look like the most dramatic action in the entire world. It only pissed Roxas off more that he actually made it look–dare he say it–good.

“And what about you, huh? You quit Hayner cold turkey for three whole months because he called Sora stupid once.”

“He fucking deserved that shit.” A slight quirk at the corner of Riku’s lips almost pulled a bit of pride from Roxas. It was so cynical and maniacal–the kind of dark expression the Silveret seemed to reserve only for him.

Only for me? What the fuck, brain? No!

“I never said he didn’t, did I?” Shifting where he stood leaned against the opposite wall, worn sneakers squeaked against the wood floor louder than if one of them had screamed. It made the distance lingering between them seem even larger than when Sora had been standing in the dead center of it. Made it feel unnecessary when they were supposedly in the middle of an argument.

But Roxas refused to be the one who closed it. Adamantly refused. “Then why the fuck are you bringing it up?”

“You air my dirty laundry, I air yours.” That cocky little smirk. It stuck there as Riku finally came off his perch and stood tall with a confidence he often swallowed when around his friends. A suaveness that had once–a long time ago–made him think, I wish I could be that cool.

“What’s next, then? Wanna remind me of the time I nearly got my own ass jumped by Seifer because I caught him talking shit about Sora? Or maybe you’d rather tell me about the time that you called me selfish for blowing him off on his birthday!”

“You made him cry on his Birthday! What else did you expect me to do? You didn’t even have a good excuse!”

On the contrary, Roxas had a perfectly good excuse. He had simply refused to explain over the phone how Lea and Isa had been fighting for weeks and that he was honestly afraid their engagement was one bad argument away from lapsing and his entire home life of falling to shit. Refused to let himself cry on Sora’s shoulder on his Birthday, when he should be happy and stuffing his face with cake. Or to hear his best friend calmly say, “the party can wait one more night. You need me more right now,” when he knew that the Brunet had been waiting literal months for that sleepover.

Fat lot of good lying had done him. Sora had ignored him for a solid week afterwards, and even Riku had refused to look at him. The only cherry on top of a bad life had been two weeks later, when Riku finally got up the balls to confront him and Roxas got the honor of fracturing his wrist during the ensuing fight.

Not one of his finer moments, but it had certainly gotten a lot of problems off his back in one foul swoop.

“Whatever, Asshole. You’re prol’ly still angry I won that fight.”

“Believe it or not, Roxas, that was probably one of the only times I actually respected you.”

Letting out a harsh bark of a laugh, the Blonde felt his fists ball at his sides. “Excuse me?”

“You missed that party for him, not you, and I could see the pain it caused written all over your face. Until then, I really thought you were just a selfish git, but no narcissist could feel that much guilt. In retrospect,” he sighed offhandedly with another of those classy eye-rolls, “I guess I should’ve realized you’d never miss a chance to hang out with Sora without good reason, considering you followed him like a love-struck puppy all the time.”

“Who told you?” It came out weaker than he intended it to. He wanted it to sound bitter and deadly, but it instead sounded fragile. Like the bottle he’d been slamming against the kitchen sink was finally on its way to cracking open.

Right now, Riku looked no better. “I…heard some rumors from one of the members of the Swim Team. Said they’d had a big break-up right around the same time.”

“And clever little fucking you put the pieces together.”

“Look,” Riku sighed, pushing back the long waves of his platinum hair with equally long fingers, “we obviously have our differences and I don’t wanna be your friend anymore than you probably want to be mine–” Roxas’s harsh laugh cut him off just long enough to elicit a warning glance before he continued–”but I’m not losing Sora because we’re both stubborn pieces of shit.”

“A-fucking-men.” Scratching angrily at the back of his neck, Roxas glared back at Riku. “So, what do you propose?”

“A truce.”

Roxas snorted. “A truce? What’s next? A goddamn treaty? We gonna have to bring in a fucking banker to Notarize it?”

“If we have to, yes.”

“Holy shit,” the Blonde breathed, “you’re fucking serious.”

“Yes,” the Silveret confirmed with another of those piercing leers, “as serious as a heart attack.”

Huffing out the air from his chest in an oof, Roxas ruffled the messy strands of his unkempt hair and cautiously took a couple steps into the gaping delta between them. Riku took two of his own, and like pieces on a chessboard, they slowly closed the distance remaining until it was just the two of them–alone in an open room–with nothing but a foot of air between them.

The last time they’d been this close, Roxas had literally punched the air out of his chest and kneed this fucker in the nose. Literally about five minutes ago.

Speaking of which, “I’m not gonna say sorry for your nose.”

Riku rolled his eyes. “I didn’t think you would.”

“If that’s a stipulation of the truce, I’m not agreeing to it.”

“I want your apology even less than you want to give it.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

“Fucking perfect.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake–can we just shake on this so we can leave with our friendship to Sora in tact? Please?” Roxas felt his lips tilt into a snarky grin against his will.

“Is this what I’ve reduced you to, Reek? Fucking begging?” Jade daggers honed in on his jugular with an accuracy that was almost terrifying when they were close enough the Silveret could actually get a clean shot for his vitals. Dare he say it, Roxas was almost…proud?

Fuck it.

Reaching out a hand, Roxas let the grin twist into a challenging smirk. “I, Roxas, hereby agree to not start shit with you while in the presence of Sora. This includes–” he faked a gag that earned him a reprimanding slap to the back of his head and his own little demonic laugh–”occasionally engaging you in conversation if the occasion demands it.”

“You know, I’m not that bad.”

“Certainly are easy on the eyes.”

“Did you just–”

“Shake my fucking hand, Reeks. I ain’t got all damn day.”

Rolling his eyes, Riku slapped his hand into his and gripped it tight enough to almost earn him a wince. Never one to be outdone, Roxas squeezed back with enough force to have the Swimmer glaring bloody murder at his would-be corpse. “I, Riku, too, hereby agree to not start or answer shit with you while in the presence of Sora. Should that mean putting up with your fucking bullshit–”

“You love me, admit it.”

“Never said I didn’t.”

“Wait–”

“–Then so fucking be it.”

“Alright, now kiss already!” Never had the two broken apart faster than they did as Xion’s mirthful voice echoed through the empty walls of the gym.

While Riku maintained a composed air about him, Roxas gaped at the little traitor where she clapped mischievously from her spot beside a cheeky-looking Sora. With his hands clasped behind his head and that victorious expression painted across his fucking face, the Brunet was–for once–almost unbearable to look at.

Gazing sidelong at Riku, the Blonde seethed, “this feel like a fucking set-up to you?”

The Silveret shrugged his broad shoulders and pushed his head forward in a playful tease as he walked toward them. “And you say you’re not paranoid.”

“Hey! Fuck you, asshole! I am not paranoid!”

And just like that, Roxas threw the glass bottle over his shoulder and forgot to listen for the shatter while he ran after his new acquaintance.

#rikuroku #riku #roxas #kingdom hearts #prompt time #i actually loved writing this #writing sassy rikuroku is my lifeblood

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karaliswrites · 5 years

Text

Blind

The one where Jean is gay for Marco and gives Eren some advice. Totally not at all similar to another fanfic I read why does this keep happening. Some spoilers

~~~~~ Jean is fed up. He’s tired of spending day after day having to listen to them constantly worry about each other. It’s annoying. And incredibly painful to watch. The words and touches are more caring, they linger — it isn’t normal by any means. And yet, they still are too blind to notice anything.

Of course, Jean admits he wasn’t too quick on it either, but that’s because it takes a little longer for things to sink in for him. But it still did, and after a rather short time of knowing them too. But he’d first started hearing word of it from the beginning. Rumors started circulating and by the half year mark, the entire cadet corps was trying to help them out. Because they all saw what was going on and they needed something done about it. Whether that be to help them be happy together or to stop the gross pining from afar depended on the person.

So, when it’s Jean’s turn for the night shift and he’s paired with Eren, he decides the time has come to give him a piece of his mind just like the others had. Of course, some had gone to Armin instead, seeing him as the more approachable of the two, but Eren had definitely been informed on numerous occasions. Jean just hopes that this time, he’ll actually shut up and do something about it.

The breeze ruffles his hair and he runs a hand through it, trying to calm it, as he lets a soft sigh float away. He glances at Eren, seeing his eyes trained on the horizon, watching for any sign of a titan. Jean knew there wouldn’t be much to look at and had chosen to lean back and try to get some rest, but Eren apparently thought something was going to spring out and attack them at any given moment. But as focused as he is on the task at hand, Jean notices a stiffness about him. A quick gaze and cloudy eyes that tell him he must be thinking about something. “You’re worried about him,” he decides to say and sees Eren stiffen even more, his frown deepening. He doesn’t say anything for a moment and Jean thinks he might be right. “Now’s not the time for conversation, Kirschtein,” he grumbles and Jean cracks a smile. He’d never been able to get to the suicidal bastard, but now he knew what made him tick. The one thing he could discuss that would make him annoyed, but not enough to throw a punch. Because deep down, Jean thinks, Eren knew he was right.

“There’s nothing out here, why not pass the time with a little conversation?” he asks, folding his arms behind his head and stretching his back. He sees him roll his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything, so Jean does for him. “Seriously, why are you so concerned? He’s not a little kid — he can take care of himself.”

“I know that.” he says a bit harshly and Jean loves how much this is getting to him. Maybe he’s the only one who can finally talk some sense into the brunet. “Then stop worrying so much.”

Eren once again falls silent and Jean is getting a bit frustrated. He thinks over what he can say for a moment before clearing his throat. “You know, right?”

“Know what?” he asks, but Jean thinks he knows what he’s talking about. “That he’s . . . y’know . . . into you.”

Eren shifts, falling into a more vulnerable position and Jean has never seen him like this. “I’ve heard about it.”

Jean chuckles, running a hand over his face. “So what do you think? Do you think it’s true?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think.” he says almost immediately and Jean lets out a breath. “Defensive much?” he says under his breath and Eren turns to him, a fire burning in his eyes. “What does it matter to you, anyways, Kirschtein?” he spits and Jean just meets his gaze calmly. “I’m sick and tired of you guys,” he says and sees Eren’s face soften slightly. “You two are so fucking gone for each other it’s ridiculous and the entire corps has lost their minds. It’s the most obvious thing in the world and you still haven’t seemed to notice something’s up. It’s disgusting. Just fucking grow a pair and kiss him, will you?”

Eren scoffs and turns away and Jean takes that as a personal victory. “Shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Jaeger, when are you gonna stop denying it?”

He falls silent. “We both know you care about him, so why not just go for it?”

Jean doesn’t know why he’s being so bold with his accusations, but it seems to be working because Eren lets out a sigh. He puts his head in his hands and Jean is surprised that he might have actually gotten through to him. He chuckles. “So even you, huh?” he asks and Jean knows he’s talking about the rumors. “Even your dense ass thinks something’s up?”

He puts a hand on his chest in offense. “Excuse me!” he says and sees Eren smile softly and thinks to himself this is strange for them. They’ve never really had a conversation that didn’t escalate into a full-on fist fight. “Did you talk to him?” he asks and Jean feels suddenly a little self-conscious, but shakes it off. “Yeah. On a mission. He was worrying himself to death about you and I decided I needed to say something to get him to shut up,” he says and again sees a shadow of a smile on Eren’s face. “I’ve noticed it too,” he says after awhile and Jean falls silent, listening to whatever he has to say. “I tried to deny it. We had always been that way, so I figured people were just being stupid. But then everyone started telling me and . . . .”

“And you realized that maybe they were right,” Jean finishes for him and he sighs, looking up at the sky instead of at his shoes. “Yeah.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“You think they’re right?”

Eren pauses for a moment, fidgeting with his fingers. “Maybe,” he mutters almost silently and Jean has never seen him like this. He thinks maybe what Eren is feeling is fear, so he decides to go down that path. “Have you said anything to him about it?”

He shakes his head softly. “No. I couldn’t.”

“Why not? If you think he likes you, what’s the problem?”

“I . . . . What if he doesn’t?”

Jean gives him a look even though he isn’t looking at him. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he asks and when Eren turns to him he sees a raw fear there, a vulnerability he’s never associated with him before that makes him wonder if this is really the same Eren he knows. “He’s obsessed with you. Even when we first met, I didn’t know what was going on, but I knew the way he acted around you was strange for a friend. Do you know how much he worries about you when you’re not there? Have you noticed the times he stares at you when he doesn’t think anyone’s looking? He’s head over heels for you.”

He inhales sharply, turning away. “I don’t want to say anything.”

“Because you’re afraid he won’t feel the same —?”

“I didn’t say I was afraid,” he snaps, looking at him with anger before it fades back into fear. “I just . . . don’t want it to change anything.”

“It won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

Jean shakes his head before shifting, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Jaeger, I’m gonna tell you something and you better listen to me.”

Green eyes look to him, seeming almost blue in the dark. “Armin cares about you. And even though it’s obvious he’s in love with you, let’s pretend he isn’t for a second. Even if he just thought of you as a best friend, which he doesn’t, he wouldn’t stop talking to you if you brought up the rumors. Even if you confessed to him and he didn’t feel the same, he’d still be your friend. Because he cares about you too damn much to let you go over something as stupid as that. Now, back to the reality where he wants you so much it’s fucking killing him, if you bring it up, things are going to turn out okay. I don’t know him nearly as well as you do, but I know that he’s never going to say anything because he’s too scared you’ll reject him. So if you don’t say anything, you’re going to lose the chance of something amazing. I should know.”

He suddenly swallows, turning his face, feeling green eyes burn into the side of his head. “There was someone who I had feelings for who I’m pretty sure liked me too. But I was too damn scared to say anything. And the very day I had gathered enough courage to confess, it was too late and they were gone. Now I’ll never get the chance to say the things I never did.”

He looks at Eren with watery eyes, but finds he doesn’t really care. “And goddamnit if that isn’t the biggest regret of my life.”

He subtly wipes his eyes before continuing. “Jaeger, I’m telling you, you have to do this before it’s too late. Before you lose him forever or vice versa. Just talk to him, would you please? For everyone’s sake, just fucking tell him. Don’t end up like me.”

Eren takes a moment to look at him and Jean thinks he might just be considering it. He’s a bit more emotional than he thought he would be, but figures that’s his own fault. But overall, he’s pleased with what he’s done.

---

A few days go by after that night and occasionally at lunch or dinner, Jean will glance over at where Eren sits with Armin and Mikasa to see his gaze on the blond, a considering gleam in his eyes. And one day, luckily Jean looks at the right time to catch Eren telling him something with a serious gaze and they’re standing up to go outside. Jean smirks to himself, thinking he’s finally done something right. He makes his way over to Mikasa, though it’s more to give them both some time as she’ll probably start to think Eren somehow got himself killed and would probably walk out to see them making out or something similar. But after awhile, she gets tired of him and stands up, moving to sit next to Sasha instead. Jean thinks that’s better than checking on Eren and continues to eat his lunch in silent self-praise.

It’s probably a few weeks later when Jean decides to leave lunch early and he’s walking back to the barracks when he vaguely thinks he hadn’t seen either of them in the dining hall. He figures perhaps he just didn’t notice or they were sitting somewhere else and silently opens the door to the barracks. He looks up and immediately wishes he hadn’t as he sees chocolate hair and then blond underneath it, spread like a halo on the pillow of his bunk bed. They’re kissing and though it’s odd of him to be watching all this, he smiles to himself, proud of what he’s done. But then he hears one of them make a soft noise of pleasure and sees Eren’s hand reach to the button of Armin’s pants, and he notices the blond is excited. He quickly covers his eyes and tries not to gag before backing quietly out of the barracks and shutting the door behind him. He feels a mix of pride that he had somehow convinced Eren to make a move and disgust at how much he had just seen. But once he’s calmed down and taken a moment to try to erase the image of them from his mind, he realizes he can no longer go into the barracks unless he wants to interrupt them and sit there awkwardly, pretending to wonder why both of their pants look a bit too tight. So instead, he decides to head back to the dining hall, deciding he will never open a door without knocking ever again.

#eremin #erearu #erenxarmin #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction #erenjaeger #arminarlert #snk #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #writing #my wrtiting #jean is gay for marco everyone #this was actually really fun to write #even though its dumb and makes no sense #and is exactly like another thing i read that was way better

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sheisbornadreamer · 5 years

Text

Something about that skirt, Taichi’s fifth visitor

Sequel to ‘Oh no he didn’t’

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything

Warnings: Language. Further chapters will be marked as sensitive as they also contain sexual content.

Chapter four

Taichi gritted his teeth.

He'd never wanted to kill Yamato as much as he did right now.

They had met in the hallway since Yamato, after a few polite minutes of being ignored, had taken the privilege to let himself in. After one blank look on his best friend, he'd fixed his gaze on the wall, muttering, "Still wearing that I see"

When the two geeks had left, Taichi had gone straight to the kitchen to take care of the many unfinished chores in there. He had then grabbed something to eat since the stomach-ache from the ice cream finally had disappeared, after that making his way to his bedroom, where he first got stuck reading a newly received message on the computer and answering it, after that he had finally started searching for some other clothes to put on.

And then this idiot had decided to visit.

It was funny how by time every guest grew more and more hated by him.

By now, as stated, he seriously wanted to kill.

Yamato, seemingly unfazed by his murderous look, crossed his arms sullenly and threw him a glance. The brunet was alternated with the floor, furniture behind him, the window, the wall, the ceiling, -hell, everything else there was to look at.

"Is there something you wa-"

"Look, I just don't understand why you always have to cross the line, I mean I respect you for taking that challenge and I wasn't one bit surprised either. But you really ruin it for yourself when you constantly go too far with every fucking thing you do."

Now he was done. It showed on the soundless exhale and change of foot.

"What are you saying?" Taichi finally asked, also crossing his arms. Ever noticed how you mirror the gestures of the person in front of you?

His friend put the calm and careless poker face on, and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I am saying that you have no self-respect, and I feel sorry for you."

"Really?" Taichi smirked and tipped his head back just a little, anything to feel taller. These sorts of behaviors were very necessary when it came to a mocking Yamato.

"All I hear is 'stop wrecking my half-existent self esteem by not bothering to care about how others might look at you!'"

Yamato shook his head, smirking –never mind totally beating Taichi's smirk. "Like I said, I simply feel sorry for you, the way you send out wrong signals to people."

"Like what?" Taichi laughed. "That I'm a girl?"

Yamato didn't blink. "That you're a fag."

The brunet's eyes darkened automatically. How could someone still look pure after saying something like that?

"This might come as a shock, but I don't have any control over people's stereotypes. And nothing other than stereotyping would lead them to believe that I'm a –sorry, was it fag that you said?"

Yamato looked like a blank, beautiful statue of stone. "Taichi," he sighed, skillfully making the brunet feel like a kid. "I was ashamed of you, but that's not the point. The point is that by being an idiot, you're digging your own grave here! And instead of just making a good statement like 'guys have every right to wear skirts if they want' you turn it into some kind of cock-tease as if the only thing you care about is having everyone in school drooling over you."

"Okay, you know what? I'm not gonna listen to this." Taichi decided, looking over his shoulder and mentally searching for his clothes.

"And why not?" Yamato demanded. "What do think I'll say?"

"It's more about what you've already said, Matt" the football player hinted, half turning away as if to mark that their conversation was over.

"I have to say this," the musician pushed.

"Yeah, well, I don't want to listen," the other shrugged as he turned and to finish his seemingly impossible task of the day; getting out of drag.

"You will fucking listen for once alright, once you understand you won't be so damn angry!" Yamato's voice rose as it became clear that the brunet was determined to ignore him.

"Then say what the fuck it is you have to say already!" Taichi shouted back at the other teen, working on letting his frustrations out so that he wouldn't explode.

As if suddenly realizing that he was serious, Yamato paused. He closed his eyes briefly, waiting a few heartbeats before murmuring "They got it all wrong. The kids at school."

Taichi was now facing him once again, although seemingly unimpressed with his argument. "Well, that is a damn shame. Get over it."

"No. I mean… I just hate the way they looked at you, and the whole thing, like it was for entertainment. Like you… like you're just an air-headed, slutty jock in a girl-uniform that had nothing better to do than waving your ass in front of them."

"So you're jealous." Taichi concluded tiredly, rubbing his temples.

Yamato shook his head, miraculously managing to make the other at least a little embarrassed over his statement. "I just hate the way they get the wrong idea about you. And I hate even more," he quickly added, as he noticed Taichi's roll of eyes, soundlessly saying 'tell me something I don't know',

"-that I looked at you like that," he mumbled regretfully, looking away as Taichi brought his attention back to the other boy. "I'm your friend, and I know all your qualities, your fears and hopes, how you act in most situations, your personality, everything. And I don't want to look at you dressed up like that and only think about the way you look and move, and… y'know, as a freakin' sex-object!"

Taichi sighed, smiling. Trust Yamato to get depressed by something like this.

"I'm glad you're ashamed" he assured, smiling comfortingly. "I'm glad you estimate me the way you do. I'm glad our friendship is this important to you, and I'm so glad that you haven't drooled, groped or hit on me like everyone else seem to be doing."

Giving him an odd look that made Taichi regret the last part, Yamato sighed. "Tai, I'm… supposed to be your best friend. I have that fucking crest of friendship. And look; throw a skirt on you and that friendship's out the window!"

"I didn't know you actually go for cross-dressing" the brunet commented, ignoring the completely serious –never mind miserable- guy in front of him.

"I don't," said guy muttered.

Taichi snorted softly, eyeing him. "Yeah right. And you're not the slightest embarrassed either huh?"

"Uncomfortable, yes, you're wearing a skirt! But uncomfortable as in… seeing your grandma naked"

"Dude!" the brunet protested, covering his face and groaning. "You did not have to do that!" Taichi glared at him accusingly through his fingers.

Yamato smiled slightly for the first time this day. "Sorry." He then chuckled a bit evilly, earning a scowl in return.

After a while the brunet's face broke into a smile. "You're safe, don't worry. I mean you were just upset over the fact that you, among others, were forced to see me as something sexual, and just…trashy" he trailed of, waving his hands in the air. "Whatever, you get what I'm saying."

The taller nodded. "As a slut" he offered.

"Right-"

"A sinner" Yamato added.

"Well, yea-"

"A whore"

"Easy on the name-calling!" the brunet exclaimed, somewhat offended. "So we're clear on that. –Shut up!" he interrupted, as the blond was about to come up with another name. "Enough. Geez… I get that you're ashamed and even though that feels a bit exaggerated for me, I don't blame you –I mean you must've got that crest for some reason right? But let me just get this into your head –I still don't care if they did. I think it's funny."

Yamato narrowed his eyes. "It's not funny."

Taichi put on a serious face, nodding. "Right." Face broke into a helpless grin, "but it is."

"It's not!" the blond protested, frowning.

"It is," the football-player reassured.

"You know sometimes you're just too careless for your own good"

Taichi brushed that off. "Maybe this is just a side of me that you shouldn't be a part of."

"Like what?"

"Um… a sexual side maybe?" Taichi suggested, fiddling with a pair a keys lying around.

A stretched silence forced him to look back up at the blond. "…Your sexual side is dressing up as a girl and walking through school for everyone to see?"

"No," he argued, dropping the keys rather clumsily and picking them up again from the floor. Making a mental note never to wear girl's underwear again, he faced the blue-eyed boy, shrugging. "One of them perhaps. Look, I didn't exactly throw it in your face; you could've just looked the other way –like you do when I talk with my mouth full, or burp, or scratch myself, or sing, or do bad impressions, or touch myself-"

"We were not gonna mention that ever again!" Yamato quickly reminded, face promising great pain if Taichi did anything else than nod.

The brunet threw his hands up. "Okay, okay just trying to make a point here. Which is that I –obviously- have sides you don't want to be a part of."

"Whatever," the blond muttered at the painting next to Taichi's head. He then turned around and headed for the door.

"So I'll see you later then? In regular clothes," the darker teen checked, scratching his chin and observing the blond for any signs of tension.

"Sure"

"I'm sorry for making you feel things you don't want to feel about a another boy-"

"Naked grandma!"

"Fine!" The brunet crossed his arms and glared, not too happy with being compared to a naked grandma.

Once outside, the blond turned around before closing the door. He finally took time to take in his friend's appearance, wrinkling his nose slightly. His eyes returned to Taichi's, holding a glint he'd only seen once before.

"Try again when you've got your own clothes back on"

The door clicked shut and Taichi closed his mouth, not before then realizing that it had dropped open. Grinning, the turned around and ran to his bedroom with all the more reason to finally change back into his old self.

#fanfiction #digimon #taichi #yamato

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lavieendonna · 6 years

Text

What A Shame || l.h. Imagine

Requested: by a beautiful anon x Pairing: Luke Hemmings + Y/N Word Count: 2.1K Summary: luke is the epitome of every oblivious male best friend ever

Leaning away from the window and letting the curtain fall back into place, you glanced at your phone and it was almost eight. He was late – which didn’t surprise you. The last time Luke was on time was almost a month ago. You sighed but let it go, eating the last of the potato chips you’d picked up on your way through the house the first time.

“Y/N, come play!” Calum called out to you from outside. You smiled, hauling yourself up from the couch and slinking through the living room and out onto the deck where the party – for lack of a better word – was still in motion. Calum was standing at one end of a long trestle table, Ashton and Michael at the other as they set up the red cups in front of them.

“Beer pong, guys?” You laughed, leaning against the house with your arms folded across your chest. “Really?”

Ashton giggled, already mostly drunk.

“Can you think of a better way to pass the time, Y/N?” Michael snorted and you gave a shrug, the bottle-blonde having made a fair point.

“Alright,” You agreed, rolling your sleeves and making your way over to Calum’s side of the table where he was carefully filling the last few cups with booze. “Loser has to tell Luke he’s the Deso tonight.” You smirked, watching Ashton and Michael whine, Calum cackling beside you, sloshing beer on the table in the process.

“Oh, man!” Ashton groaned. “But he’s a whiner!”

“Oh really, kind of like you?” You shot at the older boy. Calum laughed again, offering a knuckle touch for the burn.

“We got this in the bag.” He boasted and you grinned ear to ear in agreement.

It was a loud game with lots of laughing and even more swearing. Ashton had given up practically half-way through the game and was aiming for Calum’s balls the whole time but it was funny so you all let him do his thing while Michael whined about he was essentially playing two-against-one and it wasn’t fair.

“You’re just salty because Y/N and I are winning again.”Calum continued to showboat as he took another shot, the ball landing perfectly in one of Michael’s three remaining cups.

“Touch down!” You bellowed, Calum cheering alongside you and the pair of you doing some awkward version of a chest bump.

“Fuck you, guys,” Michael flipped you both off but grinning behind the solo cup as he downed its’ contents. He grimaced, no doubt the taste starting to get foul after the millionth cup.

Ashton was off with the fairies trying to readjust the playlist, and Michael was gearing up and trying to plan his strategy as he counted up how many cups you and Calum had left on your side of the table. Calum turned to you, a small glint in his eyes and the smallest of smirks playing on his lips.

“No Luke tonight, huh?” He asked with a small tilt of his head. Your cheeks flushed a brilliant red but you narrowed your eyes and pretended they didn’t.

“Yeah, what a shame.” You shot, sarcasm dripping from your tongue. Calum laughed, making his way over to you so he could nudge you gently in the arm.

“I know you like him.” He said, frankly. You rolled your eyes. “Honestly, Y/N. It’s written all over your face.”

“It is not.” You tried to deny it, but it failed miserably as you grimaced. Calum laughed again, offering a crooked grin.

“He’ll come around,” He told you. “I think he likes you too.” Hearing Calum say the words out loud made your heart flutter and your stomach drop simultaneously.

You couldn’t help but wonder and hope that maybe he was right and maybe Luke really did have the same feelings for you that you shared for him. You’d always longed for that moment where Luke would realise that there was more than just friendship between the two of you. The deep conversations at three in the morning, the way he seemed to look at you just a little bit longer, the affection and the cheek-kisses. The way he was the only one you ever wanted to be with, and the way you were the first person he called when he was upset.

You’d barely spoken to Luke in weeks, and he hadn’t been around with the boys nearly as often. He didn’t return your calls anymore and you were pretty sure he was going to forget your birthday that was coming up, too. Whenever you did see him, he was distracted and sometimes a little moody. He made you nervous, and not in the good way either. It was almost as if he didn’t even want you as a friend anymore.

“I highly doubt, that.” You said to Calum and he gave you a sidelong look.

“He does.” Calum shot and you scoffed.

“Yeah right.” You said, and it was like all the humour in the air faded away. You glanced at Calum and he was frowning, but you were unsure if he was irritated or just worried. He didn’t say anything though so you sighed and leaned against the table lightly.

“Truth is, Cal,” You said, averting your eyes and letting your hair fall like a curtain to hide your face. “You’re the best friend I have at the moment. Luke… Luke doesn’t even want me around anymore.”

“Y/N… there’s no way that’s true.” He tried to reason with you, but you gave a sad laugh and shook your head.

“It is, isn’t it?” You said, cynical. “Calum, he won’t even talk to me since whatsherfacecame around. He’s never even told me her name. You tell me more about him than he does these days.”

At that moment the sliding door was pulled open loudly, the lanky blond moseying through the doorway. You and Calum both looked up to watch Luke enter, beer already in hand. His eyes were kind of hollow, limbs a little too long for his body and his hair a little dishevelled and nest-like.

“Sorry I’m late.” He offered a sheepish smile and your stomach lurched. “Had a tough time getting here.” He cleared his throat as if he was subliminally trying to tell everyone something. But really, he just made everything all the more awkward. Even Ashton and Michael who hadn’t heard any of your conversation with Calum were staring incredulously, the music having stopped just like the game.

“Glad you could make it, man.” Calum was the first to speak and he shot Luke a small smile through pursed lips. “You, uh. Missed quite a match.” The brunet gestured to the half-finished pong game and Luke’s eyes followed, twitching.

“Yeah.” He mumbled. “Yeah, I see.”

Blue eyes scanned the area, landing on you and for a split second you thought you saw them light up at the sight of you. You shifted uncomfortably, not sure what to do or say. You just gave a small, shaky smile before you took one of the full cups from the table and wondered back off inside the house.

Your chest felt kind of tight, and you wished you didn’t know why Luke had such a hold over you the way he did. But you did know, and it was the worst reason you could have thought of. You loved him and he was hurting you and you were hurting yourself every time you reminded yourself that this whole situation wasn’t okay.

Outside you could hear Ashton re-start the music and Michael was carrying on about how he had one single-handedly, Calum yelling back that it was only by forfeit. You found yourself in the kitchen, in the dark, leaning against the counter and sipping at your drink.

“Hey.” His voice came from behind you. You looked over your shoulder, saw him frowning slightly, and turned back. You didn’t have anything to say to Luke, not really. He cleared his throat and you heard as he leaned up against the far wall where he’d come from. “Is everything… okay?”

The question sparked a flame of frustration in you, and you turned slowly to stare at Luke.

“Why do you ask?” You asked him carefully. Luke seemed to flinch, his brow twitching slightly.

“Calum said you were upset.” He said, a little more frank this time. You couldn’t help the involuntary roll of your eyes. Of courseCalum told him that you were upset. Calum was incapable of keeping anything to himself.

“I’m not upset.” You shot.

“You look upset.”

“I’m not.”

“Then what’s the problem?!”

You took a deep breath because Luke was just making you angry at this point. You didn’t want to say anything you would regret, but you knew that if you didn’t say anything now then you’d never stop feeling this way. For as long as you stayed quiet, Luke would always have control.

“You think I haven’t noticed you avoiding me?” Luke said quietly. “You get stiff and weird whenever I come around.”

“I get weird?” You scoffed and Luke nodded curtly.

“Yeah, Y/N, you get weird.” He snapped. “Is this because of Calum?”

“What?”

“Is it because of Calum?” He repeated. You blinked, taken back by the question. You were expecting a lot of different reactions from Luke when you finally had this conversation but him asking if it had anything to do with Calum was not one of them.

“Why the fuck would this be about Calum?!” You laughed out subconsciously. Luke shrugged wildly.

“I don’t know!” He almost wailed. “Because he’s my best friend, maybe?!”

You nodded slowly, unable to control the twitch of your lips. You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or scream. Either way, you could feel it in your gut that this wasn’t going to end well.

“That’s funny that you should say that, actually.” You said.

“How?” Luke sulked. You squared your shoulders and lifted off of the counter so you were standing on your own feet.

“Because. I’d just finished telling Calum that he was mybest friend.”

Luke looked stunned for all of three seconds before he squared his own shoulders.

“So, what, you’ve replaced me?” He asked sourly and you all but growled at the taller boy,

“Only because you replaced me first!” You hissed back and your chest was heaving, your throat thick and your heart pounding so fast in your chest you were afraid Luke might be able to hear it from across the room. His blue eyes flashed with anger, but you could still see the confusion deep set within.

Luke still didn’t realise what he’d done, and it was breaking your heart.

“You pushed meaway, Luke.” You said, but you were less angry now and mostly pleading with him to understand. “You… you decided I wasn’t good enough anymore.”

Your bottom lip trembled and Luke’s frown deepened.

“Y/N, I would never do that to you.” You denied, and you just closed your eyes and breathed it in. “Y/N. I neverdecided that you... you disappeared, Y/N. You stopped talking to me first. What did you expect me to do?”

“Fight for me!” You basically yelled. “I wanted to feel like I was actually important to you! That you couldn’t stand the thought of this happening just as much as me!”

Luke started to pace, running a hand through his hair and over his face. He looked like he was biting back on words he didn’t want to say out loud and the fact that you could see that happening inside of his head didn’t make this any easier.

“I can’t do this anymore, Luke.” You finally breathed out, opening your eyes to see Luke staring at you with an unidentifiable expression. “I can’t… keep relying on Calum and the guys to hold me up while I stand around like an absolute idiot waiting for you.”

“What are you trying to say, Y/N?” Luke asked, eyes dark but sad.

You took one last deep breath and finished your drink, discarding the empty cup in the sink before making your way to the doorway. You paused before you left, looking over your shoulder back at Luke who was watching you leave.

“We’re not friends anymore, Luke.” You said as monotonously as you could. “We haven’t been for weeks and you clearly have no interest in starting again so.” You shrugged and left and you couldn’t hear Luke coming after you so you grabbed your jacket, said goodbye to the others and let Calum ring your phone non-stop for hours until your phone finally went dead.

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pyropsychiccollector · 6 years

Text

The white-haired boy blinked owlishly. He wasn’t sure how, but standing before him was a single sliding door and nothing else. How did he even get to this place? The last thing he remembered, he was standing in front of the prestigious Hope’s Peak, eager to begin his new academy life. He’d had a series of unfortunate and fortunate events interchanging throughout his childhood up to this point, but now it finally seemed his Luck had brought him somewhere truly magnificent.

… And now he was here, in front of this door. A wave of anxiety rushed over the boy. He didn’t know how he got here or where he was; but somewhere deep down, he felt compelled to hurry and move forward without stopping to think about the details. And, practically against his will, his feet carried him forward one step at a time until he was right in front of the door, which slid open and revealed a brilliant white light behind it.

When the light cleared up and he could see again, the boy took in the classroom he was now in. He wasn’t alone anymore – there were fifteen other teens in the room, all either looking at him or looking away disinterestedly. Standing to his far left was a blue-haired girl in a traditional schoolgirl’s uniform, hands clasped in front of her politely. Standing a little to her left was a tall, lanky-looking blond boy wearing glasses and dark, expensive-looking clothing; he had his arms crossed and was looking away sourly. Behind those two, standing against a chalkboard at the back of the classroom was a plain-looking, unassuming black-haired girl in a white blouse and black skirt; she was staring at him blankly. To the immediate right of the blond with glasses, a brunet boy in a black hoodie was sitting at a desk, his fingers interlaced as he rested his elbows on the desk casually. There was a short brown-haired teen standing in front of the brunet’s desk – it appeared she was female, considering the feminine face and the skirt that went along with the green shirt; she looked rather nervous, and like she’d finished having a short conversation with the boy wearing the hoodie. Further behind them, leaning against some lockers in the back of the room was a mean-looking boy wearing what appeared to be biker gang clothes; the boy was looking down at the floor, appearing bored out of his mind. There was another boy standing alongside the lockers, wearing jeans and a white jacket and t-shirt; he had fierce red hair that looked as untamed as a lion’s mane, and he was staring at the white-haired boy curiously. Over by one of the windows stood a lilac-haired girl who was wearing a dark blue skirt, jacket, and black gloves, with a white dress shirt and brown tie; the girl was staring at him with such intense eyes.

There was another girl standing over by the windows; she had brown hair, and was wearing a red jacket and white shirt that did nothing to hide her ample chest; she was beaming at him a friendly manner. There was another brown-haired girl sitting at a desk in what looked to be a one-piece conservative dress; she was staring down at her desk moodily, and she was wearing glasses. Standing not too far from her desk was what looked like an easygoing guy with untamed hair that sprouted in every direction; like the girl wearing a red jacket, he was grinning at the white-haired boy. A girl who had two ‘drill’ extensions on other side of her black hair wore a black jacket and skirt, with a white dress shirt and red tie underneath and a boy neatly tied around her neck, had her hands at her hips and was just gazing around the room aimlessly; the girl was standing over by the windows to the right. A rather portly looking teen with black hair that stood up on one point was standing close by that girl; he was fidgeting with his glasses on his face and shooting the white-haired boy a grin. A rather intimidating looking white-haired girl that could easily be mistaken for a man because of her bulging muscles was standing close to the fat teen, arms crossed over her chest as she eyed the white-haired boy, as if sizing him up. And finally, furthest to the boy’s right was a black-haired who appeared very strict, wearing a crisp white uniform and black boots; upon entering, the boy was pointing at him while his eyebrows scrunched together.

“Hey! Did you not know orientation started at 8 o’clock sharp?! You are precisely three minutes late, and you will be reported for your tardiness! You will then accept your due punishment!”

“Oi, can’t you cut him some slack, Mister Honors Student? Didn’t you just get in here like a minute ago? So you’re late, too, y’know…” The redhead toward the back pointed out snippily. That did nothing to calm the boy who appeared to cherish the rules.

“I am aware of that! I shall be punished, too!” The black-haired boy crossed his arms and spoke authoritatively. “Rules serve to protect, as well as make model citizens out of each of us!”

The blond with glasses scoffed.

“Oi vey… Just settle down already. No one cares about ‘being on time’ when the teacher isn’t even here yet.”

That comment seemed to set off the rule-loving teen like no other. But before he could launch into a passionate rant, the blue-haired girl spoke up.

“Still… we’re all here now, right? There’s sixteen desks, so…” She trailed off scratching her cheek uncertainly.

“That is very likely,” the girl with muscles concurred. The nervous-looking girl with a green shirt spoke up next.

“U-Um… Excuse me, but did you have an experience like the rest of us?” She politely inquired. The white-haired boy blinked before rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“Do you mean how I came to be in front of the door to this room…?” At her nod, he hummed. “Yes… I do not know what to think about that experience… It was very strange.”

The girl with drill extensions in her hair raised her pointer finger as she twirled a lock of her hair around it.

“Not only that… But I am certain we all blacked out upon arriving here, yes…?”

“That’s true…” The blond with glasses frowned. “More importantly, why is it that we cannot leave here?”

“Huh?!” The girl with the red jacket exclaimed. She then darted over to the door to test it, and found it to be locked after jiggling the handle. “What the heck?! Did you lock it, new guy?”

All eyes were on the white-haired boy and he held up his hands peacefully.

“Not at all! I only touched the door long enough to open it, nothing else!”

Had there even been a lock on the outside of the door? He couldn’t remember. As everyone else started to get nervous, the boy with the pristine white uniform raised a fist passionately.

“Remain calm! This is all likely to keep anyone from running off before class begins!”

The brown-haired girl with glasses scoffed and stuttered.

“O-Oh yeah, suuure… E-Except, isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? Locking the door to keep anyone from disrupting lectures or whatever?”

The white-haired boy shook his head, striking a confident pose.

“No, I’m sure this is all a part of the entrance exam! I mean, it’s only natural for a prestigious school like Hope’s Peak to have such an exam!”

“This had better be a fucking joke…” The biker growled, his hand twitching in annoyance.

“Ah, you’re wrong. This is not an entrance exam.”

Everyone looked around the room at the sound of the bizarre voice. Some looked toward the girl with muscles, since it seemed to come from the direction of the teacher’s desk.

“Uhhh… Your voice is different than I thought it’d be…” The redhead muttered, but the white-haired girl only shook her head.

“That was not me.”

“Ah, that was mine!” The voice came again. “Now that it seems you’re all here, we can begin!”

“J-Just where are you?!” The guy with big, messy hair exclaimed nervously.

In the next moment, there was a flash of light as a pink stuffed rabbit with some sort of staff appeared on the desk at the front of the room.

“What… is that…?” The brown-haired girl with glasses reeled back in her seat warily.

“I’m Magical Miracle Girl Usami, in other words, Usami! I will be your teacher! Nice to meet you all~!” The stuffed toy rabbit greeted them all.

The guy with poofy hair clutched at his head.

“H-H-Hold on…! What is this?!”

“Clearly, it is a remote-controlled toy!” The fat teen deduced. “A rabbit to be precise…”

“More importantly, it seems to have an idea of what’s going on here…” The blond with glasses glowered at the toy. “Speak.”

“Of course I know what’s going on!” Usami remarked. “I’m the lead teacher of this school trip!”

“What do you mean school trip…?” The blond continued to interrogate the rabbit.

“A large group of students go on a chaperoned trip with a lead teacher! It’s the biggest event of the school year!” Usami held her belly as she laughed lightly.

“Um… We’re not looking for such a literal answer…” The blue-haired girl sweatdropped, but was ignored as Usami raised an arm proudly.

“Now let’s depart for the school trip!” Usami then waved her staff, somehow generating pink sparkles and making the room shake, before it all gave way to a beautiful tropical island.

Just like that. They’d gone from the heart of Tokyo to some… tropical island. Just… like… that…

As the others began taking this in, and as Usami began explaining that this was a “Hearthrobbing School Trip” where they were all meant to get along, and that there was no ulterior motive behind it… The white-haired boy passed out.

~*~

“Hey… Can you hear me…? Are you okay?” The white-haired boy stirred, and looked up at the brunet in a black hoodie. He hadn’t heard the boy speak in the classroom, but there was genuine concern reflecting in his eyes. “You seem pretty out of it… To be honest, I’m also… No, everyone else feels the same way, too. Since we suddenly got put into this weird situation… Hey, are you listening?”

The white-haired boy blinked and abruptly sat up. He’d been so enthralled by the sheer… Hope this brunet was exuding that he couldn’t help but stare. But he felt better now.

“O-Oh… yes.” The white-haired boy laughed sheepishly. “My apologies. Have the others gone off, then?”

He looked around and could see one of their classmates out swimming in the water, but no one else was around.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” The brunet asked. At the white-head’s shrug, he nodded. “Well… alright. Yeah, the others are off exploring the island. But… Why don’t we start with introductions first? I’m Makoto Naegi. Ultimate Lucky Student.”

Despite the warm smile Makoto was giving him, the white-haired boy couldn’t help narrowing his eyes.

“W-Wait… Ultimate Lucky Student…? But that’s… my talent…” It was such a worthless talent, compared to all the other shining beacons of Hope.

Makoto chuckled sheepishly.

“About that… Usami explained while you were out, but technically you’re not a part of our class. You actually belonged to the previous batch of Ultimates – Class 77. But some accident happened, and you lost your memories.” Makoto rubbed the back of his head. “So, you’re the Ultimate Lucky Student of Class 77, and I’m the Ultimate Lucky Student of Class 78.”

The white-haired boy’s brow furrowed.

“I… lost my memories…? Why…? How could I have lost a year’s worth of memories just like that…? And why am I with you guys, then?”

Makoto held up his hands peacefully.

“Well, you would’ve been placed with your class, but seeing as how you basically reverted back to being a freshman, it was easier to place you with us.”

The white-haired boy hummed in acknowledgement.

“Alright… Well, I suppose it can’t be helped. I’m Nagito Komaeda. Nice to meet you!” He waved and beamed in a friendly fashion. He then folded his arms as he settled into a relaxed grin. “So, Naegi-kun… What are your thoughts about being an Ultimate Lucky Student?”

Makoto scratched his cheek sheepishly.

“Well… I never could have imagined someone like me could get into Hope’s Peak. I mean, there’s nothing noteworthy about me. If the song or whatever is at the top of the charts, chances are it’s my favorite. I don’t stand out in crowds. I don’t excel at sports, and while I do fine academically, I’m not a genius or anything. I’m just a run-of-the-mill kid that got lucky to be chosen to attend such an amazing school! I guess my one redeeming quality is that I have more optimism than most people, but even that’s overshadowed by all these talented kids, if I’m perfectly honest.”

Nagito gave a raspy laugh as he smiled widely at Makoto.

“You understand! This is absolutely wonderful! You and I, we’re not on their level. We just got chosen by lottery, and we couldn’t help but come because the school doesn’t understand our ‘talent’ – our luck. Well, I imagine that our lucks are somewhat different in nature, but the point is that Hope’s Peak wanted to observe both of us. It’s not us who are amazing, but Hope’s Peak for being able to research something as vague as luck…”

Makoto rubbed the back of his head.

“Well… Like I said, I’m more optimistic. I came because the school all but promised success in life after you graduate… I definitely feel out of place, but everyone seems accepting, from talking with them. I guess… now I just want to help everyone pursue their dreams. It’s not about ‘me’ anymore.”

Nagito nodded indulgently.

“Well, I’m more pessimistic, but I suppose we’ll get along fine. I mean, you acknowledge feeling out of place, so you at least see that they’re above your level. You’re also correct that it is our duty to help these amazing beacons of Hope in any way we can, though obviously I wonder if we can even do that much…”

Makoto smiled a little nervously, but didn’t comment further on their differing viewpoints. Nagito said they’d get along, so… they would. No point dwelling any more on that.

“If you check your pocket, you’ll see Usami left you an e-handbook like she did with the rest of us. It stores information on our classmates as well as maps of the islands. Well, I say that in plural form, but really, all we can get to at this point is this island here and the central island. There appears to be four more islands, but they’re blocked off by gates right now.”

Nagito hummed as he pulled out the device.

“So, you’ve uncovered that much, huh? What about food and living arrangements? Is there a way to escape this island?”

Makoto cracked a grin.

“Everyone split off to look into all that, so why don’t we go introduce you to everyone? I already met everyone while you were out, but I’ll tag along, too.” With that said, Naegi cupped his hands over his mouth as he shouted out to the girl swimming in the sea. “Heeey! Asahina! Nagito woke up, so why don’t you come say hello?!”

Nagito did a double-take as the girl suddenly seemed to stop completely, before she crossed the distance between them in a matter of a few seconds. He sweatdropped as he registered she had been swimming in her… clothes…

“Wassuuup?! You were out for a while there! Are you okay?” The brunette asked with vibrant energy in both her tone and body language. The girl seemed to exude the very essence of life.

Nagito held up his hands calmly.

“Ah, yes, of course… My apologies if you were worried over a nobody like me!”

Asahina cocked her head.

“Eh? But you’re not a nobody. You’re that, um… Who are you again?” She rubbed the back of her head and giggled sheepishly.

“Nagito Komaeda,” He supplied. “Ultimate Lucky Student.”

Asahina nodded.

“Right, right! Something like that.”

“You mean ‘exactly’ like that… right…?”

“Sure, sure! I won’t forget it again!” She then began earnestly tracing on her palm with the tip of her index finger. “Nagito… Komaeda… Nagito… Komaeda… Gotcha.”

Nagito raised his eyebrow curiously at her.

“Uh, what are you doing…?”

Asahina looked at him funny.

“Huh? You didn’t know? If you write a person’s name on your palm three times, you’ll never forget it!”

“I’ve never heard of that.” Nagito blinked owlishly.

Asahina didn’t seem to hear him.

“So hey, uh… How do you spell ‘Komaeda’ anyway?” She cocked her head to the side as she appeared contemplative.

“Exactly how it sounds – K, o, m, a, e, d, a.” Again, Nagito was at a loss with how all over the place this girl was.

“Hmmm…” Asahina let out a drawn-out hum. She then rubbed the back of her head and giggled sheepishly again. “Sorry, you’ll have to tell me again later, when I have some way to write it down… Well, whatevs! We’re here now, so let’s make friends!”

“Y-Yeah… sounds good…” Komaeda trailed off, unsure of what else to say.

Makoto smiled nervously.

“Um… ‘Hina? You kinda forgot to introduce yourself. You jumped right to all that stuff about Komaeda…”

Asahina blinked before blushing madly and covering her mouth in embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry!! I’m Aoi Asahina, Ultimate Swimmer!” She was too embarrassed to say more.

Makoto gestured at the swimmer as Nagito nodded slowly.

“Asahina’s been competing in swimming tournaments ever since elementary school, shattering all records that lay before her! She’s even been scouted for the Japanese Olympic swimming team! She’s made a huge splash on the ‘Net with her amazing talent and good looks…”

If it was possible, Asahina got redder in the face.

“Naegi…! You’re makin’ me blush!” She giggled nervously. Nagito chuckled at her modesty.

“It’s amazing being a class with someone as talented as you, Asahina! No wonder you were scouted by Hope’s Peak!”

Feeling sufficiently flustered for one morning, Asahina leaped back in the sea without so much as another word. Makoto and Nagito shared another laugh before moving on from the beach…

~*~

The next place they found themselves in was an airport. Presently, there were two students there – and one of them immediately approached the Lucksters.

“Yo, Naegs!” The guy with hair that sprouted all over the place greeted before he registered Nagito, too. “Ah, and the guy that blacked out! They call me Yasuhiro Hagakure – Ultimate Clairvoyant. Nice meetin’ ya, dude!”

Nagito made an audible ‘ah’ sound, which conveyed that he found that to be an interesting… talent. Not that he would call the talent into question, when Hope’s Peak recognized it.

“Yasuhiro Hagakure – also known as, ‘The Supernova.’ He’s the poster child for the new age of fortunetelling… He’s a legend among soothsayers, though I don’t personally know how often he gets things right…”

Hagakure laughed as he folded his arms casually.

“I’m right at least 33% of the time, dude! That’s why I’m a legend in the fortunetelling business!”

Nagito physically recoiled at that bit of information.

“33… percent of the time…!?” He looked like he would have quite a lot to say about such a low statistic for an Ultimate.

Hagakure seemed to get annoyed with Nagito’s skepticism.

“Oi! Think about it! I’m right 33% of the time! Do you know how crazy that is?! Natural disasters, elections, world events, I get complete and total accuracy at least a third of the time! Most fortunetellers get much lower statistics, and that’s why we get a lot of bad rep, true as truth!”

Nagito seemed to calm down a little at that, but he was still looking at Hagakure strangely, like he wasn’t sure if he should denounce the clairvoyant as an Ultimate, or if he should marvel at his… accuracy…

Makoto just laughed at his fellow Luckster’s reaction. Apparently, he’d gone through a similar interaction with Hagakure earlier. Instead of dwelling on that, Makoto waved at the only other student in the airport, who seemed reluctant to socialize.

“Hey, Mukuro! Why don’t you come introduce yourself?!” The brunet called over with a friendly grin. Mukuro made her way over stiffly, and nodded toward Nagito, her eyes darting over to Naegi all the while.

“I am… Mukuro Ikusaba. Ultimate Soldier.” She seemed to refuse to say more than that. Again, Makoto let out a laugh and supplied a little more information for Nagito’s sake.

“Apparently, she joined a private mercenary force over in Europe, where she fought in countless battles! Not only did she win practically all those battles, but she emerged unscathed! Not a single injury!”

Clearly, Nagito found this talent to be much more respectable than Hagakure’s.

“Amazing…! You really are fit to be called the Ultimate Soldier!” Nagito praised the soldier, who still refused to meet his eyes, instead keeping her eyes on Naegi.

Makoto rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“You might be wondering about this airport, too… Well, while there are planes, none of them… function.”

“Why not?” Komaeda cocked his head.

“’Cause they’re missing their engines, dude! Every last one!” Hagakure rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking away nervously.

Mukuro shyly added input as well.

“If we do ever find one of those engines, I could theoretically pilot the craft… That is, if all other methods of escape do not pan out…”

Makoto nodded.

“So, as is, these things are more likes props than actual planes.” He gestured at the airport in general. “I dunno why they’d have such a place on this uninhabited island, but overall it seems like a smalltime mystery compared to some of the other stuff you’ll see.”

Nagito rubbed his chin but offered nothing more. He was curious to find out what else the island had to offer.

~*~

“… I know it might be strange to ask this, but… Why is there a supermarket on an uninhabited island?”

Makoto chuckled softly.

“Trust me, we all had similar thoughts. And the thing is, all of this is technically free – we don’t hafta pay money. Usami said so.”

Currently, Makoto and Nagito found themselves in what appeared to be your average supermarket, called Rocketpunch Market. The variety in items was such that there were even night vision goggles, surfboards, swimwear, and huge containers of cola. There were just so many things.

Mukuro had tagged along with the Lucksters, though that was only because Nagito noticed her stalking them shortly after leaving the airport. Makoto didn’t seem to mind her company, which seemed to put the soldier at ease. Ever since meeting her, Nagito had noticed she seemed unusually jittery, like she was looking for something or someone and unable to find them. But so long as she was around Naegi, she seemed… calm.

… That was about to all go out the window.

“Hoho! Mister Makoto Naegi and Miss Mukuro Ikusaba! Out on a date already, are we?” A rather fat teen wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as he placed his hands on his hips. He did not seem to notice or care that he caused Mukuro’s face to change to a bright red and make steam erupt from her cheeks. He tilted his head as he noticed Nagito with them. “Ah, and you… You’re the one that passed out on the beach earlier! I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure. I’m Hifumi Yamada, the Ultimate Otaku. You’re free to call me by my other name – the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End.”

Nagito held up his hands sheepishly, really unsure of how to respond to that.

“… I think I’ll just stick with Yamada, thanks. You can call me Nagito Komaeda – Ultimate Luckster.”

The otaku straightened his glasses as he stared at Komaeda mischievously.

“By the by, are you familiar with the allure of the two-dimensional world, Mister Nagito Komaeda?”

“Two-dimensional…?” Komaeda trailed off, cupping his chin in bemusement.

“As the Ultimate Otaku, my name is well-known in the industry, mmhm.” He smirked. “Even today, legend speaketh of the time I sold ten thousand doujinshi at a school culture fest. And I did it despite accusations of ‘defiling the festival’ from my ignorant, uncultured peers!”

As Yamada puffed out his chest in pride, Komaeda marveled at that story. Most people would probably feel sorry for Yamada’s former classmates, but Komaeda simply admired the passion and dedication for the otaku’s craft.

“But let us forget about those fools.” Yamada continued. “As Van Gogh can attest, certain genius goes unrecognized in life. I am a warrior battling day and night to crush the preconceived notions people have about my works. I am certain if you saw my work, Mister Nagito Komaeda, you would understand it straight away. As would you, Mister Makoto Naegi and Miss Mukuro Ikusaba… For they are tales that take on a profound theme…”

Mukuro narrowed her eyes suspiciously, subtly drawing closer to Naegi for some reason.

“… What kind of theme…?”

“Crossing over… the gender line!” Yamada dramatically declared.

Nagito cocked his head.

“That sounds interesting, what is it…?” The older Luckster never got to finish as Mukuro dragged both him and Makoto off with an intense blush on her face. Obviously, the white-head was perplexed. “Ikusaba…?”

“I don’t… like his tone…” was all the soldier offered as a response. Specifically, she didn’t like that perverted tone being used around Naegi… but she would never admit that out loud.

A few aisles away, the trio found a redheaded teen, who suddenly looked pumped upon seeing more faces.

“Yo! Leon Kuwata’s the name! Ultimate All-Star! Wassup, brothas and sista?” Leon brought up his fists excitedly.

Makoto took over again, explaining what he knew about the All-Star.

“Leon plays both as an ace pitcher and a cleanup hitter. He led his high school baseball team to victory in the championship tournament. As an athlete, he’s at the top of the tier, already being scouted for the pro leagues.”

Again, Nagito marveled at how talented these people were. Though, he somewhat put his foot in his mouth when he spoke up.

“That’s… peculiar, though…”

Leon crossed his arms, cocking his head at the older Luckster.

“Huh? Whatchu talkin’ about?”

Nagito held up his hands peacefully.

“I don’t mean to sound so surprised… It’s just… don’t the leagues have some regulations about… hair?”

Leon seemed to take a moment to process what Nagito was asking, but when he did, he stiffened and dropped his arms to his sides.

“Yikes… Don’t tell me you saw my baseball pictures…! Not those crusty old things…This sucks! I’m all kinds of embarrassed!”

Nagito shook his head, keeping his hands up peacefully.

“No, no! I haven’t seen any…” But he was cut off.

“Gimme a break! Those were the tourney’s rules! I had no choice but to shave it all off… But I ain’t never cuttin’ my hair off again! Ain’t goin’ back to my old color, either!” He massaged his head as he looked off to the side. “So lemme tell you somethin’. I don’t like baseball. Not one damn bit. Truth is, I ain’t even gone to practice once…”

Nagito stiffened a little, but otherwise seemed unaffected. For the moment.

“So the team-carrying ace never practiced once… I guess that’s what you call a prodigy, huh?”

Makoto sweatdropped, and Mukuro blankly looked between Leon and Nagito. Things were about to turn ugly, if Nagito’s attitude about talent was anything to go by.

“Point bein’, I came here to quit! I got a real dream, man!”

“A… real dream…? Quit?” Nagito’s brow furrowed.

“I’m gonna be a musician, obviously!” Leon rubbed the back of his head bashfully. “Can’t you feel my rockstar aura?! I’ve got vocals covered. I just need some kickass musicians and songwriters, and I’m set! Maaan! Look at me, chasin’ down my dreams and shit! I am one friggin’ extreme badass!”

“Badass…? You…?” Nagito gave a raspy laugh that Makoto was familiar with, but this time there was a condescending edge to it. “You are unfit to be an Ultimate if you are willing to throw that beautiful talent away…! Just think of all the Hopes of aspiring Little Leaguers you will be crushing all around the world! Do not be selfish, come to your senses, and…!”

And now Makoto was dragging Nagito away before he could escalate into a fistfight with Leon. Mukuro apologized profusely on Naegi’s behalf, since he had his hands full getting Nagito away from there. Makoto made a mental reminder to himself to not leave Nagito alone with the All-Star…

~*~

The next area the trio found themselves in was an area with tiny cottages and what looked to be a hotel toward the back. Hotel Mirai. Nagito sounded relieved as he let out a sigh.

“Well, at least we won’t have to pitch a tent or something… That’s a pretty nice hotel! It’s even got the Japanese word for Future in the name!” Nagito remarked. He grinned, raising an arm casually. “If we can live in a grand hotel like this, I don’t think we’ll have to worry about being comfortable!”

Makoto gestured to the sixteen cottages they were standing right in the middle of.

“As you can see, we each have our own cottage that has our own face and nameplate on them. For the most part it’s divided into guys and girls, but with one more guy than girls, I’m placed on the girls’ side while you guys have the whole left to yourselves.”

Nagito chuckled good-naturedly.

“That is, of course, unless you’re hiding something from us…” He trailed off suggestively, and wasn’t too surprised when Ikusaba immediately rose to Makoto’s defense.

“Naegi is definitely a boy…! Fujisaki-kun was the one giving off the impression he was a girl!”

Nagito blinked owlishly.

“Fujisaki…kun…?”

Makoto nodded.

“We’ll probably find him in the hotel – at least, that’s where I saw him last. Don’t get on his case too much about it. He had his reasons for… deceiving everyone. It’s only ‘cause Usami thought it wasn’t nice keeping secrets that Fujisaki opened up to everyone.”

“I… see…” Nagito trailed off uncertainly, clearly not getting it yet.

“Hello.”

All eyes turned to a lilac-haired girl who finished inspecting one of the nearby cottages. Makoto waved amicably at the girl.

“Ah, Kirigiri! You actually came over on your own, I’m glad.”

Kirigiri rolled her eyes and sighed breezily. There was a very light wistful look in her expression.

“You would have brought him for introductions at some point. Best to get those out of the way now.”

“That obvious, huh?” Makoto scratched his cheek sheepishly.

“Transparent, that’s what you are.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment… I think…”

Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, Kirigiri turned to face Nagito directly.

“I am Kyoko Kirigiri. Ultimate Detective.” The lilac-haired girl introduced herself simply. Nagito waited with baited breath for further details, but they never came. From the girl herself or Naegi.

“Uh…” Nagito trailed off uncertainly.

“Kirigiri’s pretty private about herself.” Makoto remarked. “Felt like she didn’t want to talk about herself, so I didn’t pry. And there wasn’t information online about her on Hope’s Peak’s online threads.”

Kirigiri shook her head with a small, mysterious smile.

“Thanks for being considerate. I don’t feel like talking about myself or my background. If you’ll excuse me…”

With that, the lilac-haired girl suddenly took her leave without another word. Makoto rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment.

“Sorry… But it’s like I said, she’s pretty private. She’ll talk to us when she’s ready.”

Mukuro nodded in acceptance, while Nagito rubbed his chin again. Now he really wanted to know what made her exceptional enough to be labeled the Ultimate Detective. For now he’d have to stow away his curiosity, though, since the girl had departed and would not be willing to say anything more.

Leaving the cottages, they found the strict white-uniformed boy glancing around the pool area with an eagle eye. Upon spotting Naegi and Mukuro, he spread out his arms and gave a wide, close-eyed grin.

“Ah! If it isn’t Naegi and Ikusaba! How wonderful it is you’re exploring the island together! Hahaha!” The boy sobered, though, he when he registered Nagito’s presence as well. He pointed at the white-haired boy sternly. “And you…! Late to class, passing out before the teacher can educate us all… I have my eyes on you! You should be more studious and of stronger mind! It is your duty as a student! Diligence! Diligence!”

Nagito was taken aback by the black-haired boy’s intensity. He looked to Naegi and Ikusaba for help, which Naegi obliged.

“N-Now, now, Ishimaru… It’s only the first day. Try and understand his situation a little more, okay? We’re all a little overwhelmed, aren’t we?”

The stern boy gripped his chin shrewdly before nodding reluctantly.

“F-Fine… But only because it’s the first day! Even then, you should strive to leave the best impression possible, however! Just this once I will be lenient on you, though…” The boy then stood at attention. “I am Kiyotaka Ishimaru! My motto is, ‘Be true to yourself, and live with vigor and fortitude!’ Let roar the flames of our competitive spirits as we drive one another to academic superiority! I say again, I am Kiyotaka Ishimaru, the Ultimate Prefect!”

Makoto rubbed the bridge of his nose, grinning nervously.

“He’s a squeaky-clean honors student… who was consistently at the top of his class at a famous prep school. While serving on the school’s disciplinary committee, he built a considerable reputation for himself… as a man who values rules above all else.”

“A-Ah…” Nagito trailed off, still trying to wrap his head around everything. He swiftly recovered before casually introducing himself. “I’m Nagito Komaeda, Ultimate Lucky Student.”

“Nagito Komaeda, eh…” Kiyotaka spread out his arms joyously. “Be grateful to your parents for christening you with such an upstanding name, Nagito Komaeda! Every day is a battle! You must be diligent and stay true to your name! Oorah! Life’s only worth the effort you put into it! Isn’t that right? Damn right, it is!”

Nagito laughed at the sheer energy Ishimaru was radiating. It was different from Asahina’s, which carried the essence of life itself, but he could still tell Ishimaru was worthy to be called an Ultimate.

Makoto and Mukuro were notably less enthused, but they were nonetheless forcing polite smiles. Spotting the muscled girl doing some light stretches on the other side of the pool toward the hotel, they both decided to use that as an opportunity to part ways with the prefect for now and introduce Komaeda to her.

“I am Sakura Oogami. Ultimate Fighter.” She plainly greeted Komaeda after nodding in acknowledgement to Makoto and Mukuro.

Again, Makoto took over giving a few more details about their classmate.

“Sakura was crowned champion at an American MMA tournament despite being female… she’s come out of 400 matches with a flawless record. The Hope’s Peak Academy online threads nicknamed her Ogre, and claimed she’s one of the few fighters strong enough to rival The Specimen.”

Nagito was staring at the fighter in newfound appreciation and respect as he learned these facts about the Ultimate. It was only natural for her to be recruited by Hope’s Peak. And though he didn’t know it, Sakura had already talked to Makoto about his ‘sexist’ comment of ‘despite being a girl’. Makoto didn’t mean anything by it – it was just from his experiences that girls were not normally… ‘tough’. And Mukuro, also knowing Makoto’s nature from having talked to him earlier, knew that he wasn’t being condescending in any way.

“Hey. You.” Sakura abruptly said, staring at the older Luckster intensely.

“H-Huh? Me?” Nagito gestured at himself, and he suddenly found Sakura in his personal space, running her hands up and down his body. “Umm…”

“It would appear as though you possess but the strength of an ordinary high school student… Hmph. Most unfortunate. In such a state, you are ill-suited to be my sparring partner.”

Nagito just sweatdropped before he sighed sadly.

“Yes, you’re absolutely correct… I’m sorry for not living up to your expectations. I am painfully, woefully average – maybe not even that. Maybe I am just garbage…!”

Again, Makoto and Mukuro dragged Nagito off. Not because he was offending anyone, but they were finding out his quirks, and they didn’t want to spend who knew how long listening to Nagito talk derisively about himself. He really was… an infuriating individual at times…

~*~

Inside the hotel lobby, they found the blue-haired girl and the girl with the green shirt. … Or at least, Nagito thought she was a girl. Upon seeing Makoto and Mukuro, the blue-haired girl placed her hands on her hips, staring at the younger Luckster in mild frustration.

“Naegi-kun…! I thought I told you to come back in fifteen minutes! I really was just checking out my cottage, y’know!”

Makoto laughed in embarrassment.

“I know… But I was worried about Komaeda, and I wanted to check on him! I figured I’d show him around while I was at it. He’s met over half our class by now – only four left to introduce him to, to my knowledge.”

The blue-haired girl sighed exasperatedly.

“You’re hopeless, y’know that?” Her tone was aggravated, but Nagito could tell there was a playfulness to it. When she turned to face him, she gave a prim, closed-eyes smile. “My name is Sayaka Maizono, Ultimate Pop Idol! I look forward to getting to know you better.”

Nagito’s eyes dawned with familiarity as he nodded indulgently at her.

“I know you… You’re the lead vocalist in a highly popular girl group. You enjoy a great deal of fame nationwide… You’re in such high demand that it seems like every magazine and TV show wants a piece… To think, Hope’s Peak scouted even you, it’s absolutely amazing!”

Sayaka just beamed at his praise. She was very proud of what her group had accomplished in the music world, after all. Beside her, the green-shirted girl(?) fidgeted nervously.

“Hello, nice to meet you… I’m Chihiro Fujisaki… Ultimate Programmer.” Only then did Nagito make the distinction ‘she’ was actually a ‘he’, from Naegi’s earlier explanation about someone named Fujisaki. The programmer blushed bright pink. “I’m feeling a little… a little shy from all these introductions… I look forward… to working together…”

“The pleasure is mine.” Nagito half-bowed. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Fujisaki’s written countless innovative computer programs,” Naegi explained. There wasn’t really much more to say, at least from his perspective. Sayaka tilted her head curiously.

“So… who does Nagito have yet to meet? And where does he have yet to visit?”

“Well, there’s just the ranch and the central island after this.” Makoto answered. “Is Celes still upstairs?”

The idol nodded faintly, sweatdropping. Fujisaki poked his pointer fingers together.

“If it’s all the same to you guys, I’m going to return to my room for now… See ya later…”

“Bye!” Makoto and Sayaka answered back almost in sync. That got the younger Luckster flustered, and the idol giggled. Mukuro puffed out her cheeks at the display, though the expression quickly faded away, as she seemed to want to keep such emotions hidden…

“Uh… what just happened…?” Nagito asked, perplexed. He felt there was something more to Fujisaki’s abrupt departure.

“Celes gets on Fujisaki’s case about how ‘easily’ his lie was found out…” Makoto rubbed the back of his neck. “C’mon, let’s go meet her.”

Going up the stairs, the four teens found themselves in a dining hall area, where a single girl in black was seated, drinking tea. She smiled knowingly as the group approached her.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Celestia Ludenberg, Ultimate Gambler.”

Nagito cocked his head.

“Celestia… Luden… what now?” Without saying it, he pointed out how un-Japanese that sounded…

“Celestia Ludenberg.” The black-haired girl cupped her entwined hands under her chin, smiling pleasantly. “It’s my name. ‘Twould be wonderful if you called me ‘Celes’.”

“You… are Japanese, right?” Nagito frowned.

Celes nodded.

“And what of it…?”

“Um… May I ask your real na…” He was cut off by the girl’s giggling.

“Ehehe… You misunderstand me. My real name is Celestia Ludenberg. And it would be wonderful if you called me Celes.” There was a forceful undercurrent to her tone, which conveyed the message, ‘Proceed at your own risk.’ “I sincerely look forward to our dealings together. Ehehehehe..."

Nagito looked the very picture of a rat caught in a trap, wanting to find out more about the gambler but also realizing he was probably just going to be fed more lies. Makoto and Sayaka both had polite miles on, but did nothing to assist the older Luckster. Even Mukuro had a more guarded look about her, being around Celes.

… Not for the first time, Nagito wondered what he’d be getting into, involving himself with these Ultimates…

~*~

“A name like mine… you’ll just forget it… as soon as I tell you… anyway…” A brunette with glasses remarked bitterly when Nagito was brought out to the ranch to meet some of the other Ultimates. Touko Fukawa… Ultimate Writer.”

Similar to Maizono, Nagito seemed to have a light familiarity with this Ultimate.

“Ah, Touko Fukawa… You entered the literary spotlight with a novel you wrote at the age of ten… and your recent masterpiece, ‘While the Scent of the Shore Still Lingers,’ turned fishermen into a prized commodity among your young female fans! You’re a recipient of numerous literary awards, publishing hit after hit – all while still attending school!”

Fukawa recoiled, her hair wildly flailing about as she stared at Nagito in abject shock. Makoto, Mukuro, and Sayaka all looked surprised that he knew that much about Fukawa as well.

“Y-Y-You, too…!” The writer shook with a mixture of frustration, anger, and disbelief as she pointed at Nagito, and then at Makoto. “You’re both… too nice…!”

With that abrupt declaration, she took off in a sprint. Makoto scratched his cheek as Nagito looked at him quizzically.

“Apparently, she thinks everyone looks down on her… Um… You’re probably better off not knowing some of the names she applies to herself. Or… I guess you might find out later. Who knows?”

Sayaka smiled nervously, looking around briefly before finding another teen at the “Usami Corral”. The one dressed as a biker.

“Oh! Oowada-kun is here as well! Oowada-kun…!” She called out.

The guy with the pompadour looked up blankly before walking on over.

“Yeah? Waddaya want?”

“Just wanted to introduce Komaeda to you!” Makoto explained, gesturing at the white-haired boy, who waved awkwardly at the biker.

Oowada clicked his teeth before nodding slowly.

“I’m Mondo Oowada… Nice to fuckin’ meetcha.”

When nothing else came, Makoto laughed sheepishly and explained for Komaeda’s sake.

“He’s the Ultimate Biker – the second leader of Japan’s largest, most violent biker gang. Delinquents nationwide fear and revere him.”

Nagito nodded slowly.

“Ah… the Crazy Diamonds, correct?”

“Yeah…” Mondo rubbed the back of his head awkwardly.

There was a lengthy pause before Nagito politely spoke up again.

“It’s a pleasure meeting you.”

“Yeah.” Mondo repeated.

… Well, that conversation wasn’t going anywhere.

~*~

Having seen all that the first island had to offer, the four teens journeyed to the central island. There wasn’t much on that island – a rock mountain along one of the edges, and a park in the middle of it. And just as Naegi had said, the entrances to the other four islands were closed off by enormous gates.

They found the last person to introduce Nagito to – the bespectacled blond who appeared bored as he surveyed the park. There was an eccentric statue of animals in the center of the park, and the teen was loitering close by there.

“Hello! I’m Nagito Komaeda! Ultimate Lucky Student!” The older Luckster started off the introductions that time, wanting to make a good impression.

The blond rolled his eyes and snorted.

“I’m Byakuya Togami. Ultimate Affluent Progeny.”

And yet again, Nagito showed familiarity with one of the Ultimates – but who didn’t know about the Togami Group?

“Ah, you’re that Byakuya Togami…” Komaeda gushed. “You’re the esteemed son of the financial giant, the Togami group… You’ve been groomed to serve a single purpose: inherit control of the group. There are several companies already under your control, and you’ve accumulated a vast personal fortune…!”

Togami, arms crossed, glared pointedly at the older Luckster.

“Yes, yes… Are we done with introductions? How long do you intend to stand there? I can’t stand the sight of you… Disappear.”

Nagito held up his hands peacefully, while the rest of the group sighed. Of course he was going to be okay with being treated like dirt.

“I understand…! I am not fit to breathe the same air as such an amazing beacon of hope! I’m just a lowly, insignificant speck destined to be under the heel of your giant boot! I have no problem acknowledging how meager my existence is compared to yours!”

… Well. Not even Togami knew how to respond to that level of pessimism.

~*~

Outside in the real world, the Future Foundation watched the simulation unfold and play out. So far, everything was progressing smoothly, despite Nagito Komaeda blacking out for a time.

“It’s almost surreal, seeing them like this.” Kyosuke Munakata intoned. Beside him, Chisa beamed.

“I told you! Deep down, they’re still the kids that attended Hope’s Peak! They lost their way because of Enoshima, but we can bring them back.”

Kyosuke looked down with a solemn expression.

“You’re right… We have a duty to save them after failing them all those years ago… They fell into Despair and spread it like a virus, but only because we could not protect the one person they cared about most. The burden belongs squarely on our shoulders… my shoulders.”

Chisa became solemn as well.

“I hope those kids get the second chance they deserve… Maybe they won’t be able to keep him, but so long as they’re in there, they’ll have the person that they lost. And hopefully, he can bring them back… the people they once were.”

Munakata took her hand in his own, squeezing it reassuringly.

“There’s still hope.”

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fanfictionconnectionwordpress · 7 years

Text

Mystic Messenger Fanfiction | Vanderwood Backstory | Ch. 11 Healing

***This fanfiction covers my version of Vanderwood which I rp in this Mystic Messenger Discord server. Don’t forget to subscribe to the email list for access to R-Rated Scenes and my monthly newsletter.

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Chapter Directory. ~Let’s Connect! FFC***

It had been way too long since he'd last gotten a good fuck, and this girl had offered herself to him. Now, she was just sitting there watching him as he got dressed to leave. She wasn't a hooker, that was a bad one on him, but she didn't seem interested in keeping him there either. Seemed to him that she had been as sexually frustrated as he was, although, most certainly not for the same reason. Vanderwood pulled his shirt on, covering his newest scars, the large indented circle on his left pectoral and the smaller indented circle on his back.

That bullet wound had taken months to heal, so long in fact that he'd had time to learn Italian for their next mission. What a life. Vanderwood snorted softly at himself and the curvy blonde in the bed pushed up onto her forearm. "What are you snorting at, handsome?"

He didn't particularly feel like talking to her. It always grated on his nerves when the women wanted to talk. Even hookers would talk sometimes, but the civilians always talked the most. Bad on him for not having had the patience to find a good hooker, but Hell, at least now he felt like he could breathe again after having been cooped up in bed for months. Even worse, after having been cooped up in bed for months in Seven's house. It had been easier than staying at his little apartment.

"Just snorting at myself." His eyes trailed over the woman's body. She was pretty, very sexy, hard to believe that she was that sexually frustrated to just throw herself at him as soon as he walked in the door, but maybe she had her reasons. Vanderwood finished getting dressed by pulling on his jacket and gloves. "Bye now." He grunted it at her as he left the house, and she didn't bother to answer, which was great for him.

As he opened the door, a white-haired man with ruby colored eyes looked up at him. The guy was maybe four inches shorter than Vanderwood and had a rattail of his peculiar colored hair. His face was impeccably molded, angular and beautiful. If he dressed right, or wrong, he could easily be taken as a woman. That just had Vanderwood cringing with bad memories. "Excuse me." He slipped past the dumbfounded man. It wasn't long after he'd started down the hallway of the woman's apartment building that he heard the yelling. 'You cheated on me?' It sounded more hurt than angry, but there was definitely anger in his tone too.

Vanderwood turned back towards the room, frozen in place. Well, that explained a lot. Honestly, he felt a little sick. Sleeping with someone else's woman was something he would never have put on his bucket list, but now he had crossed it off nonetheless. Great. Just another of his many wrong-doings. There was nothing he could do about it now, and it wasn't like he had known, so he just made his way out of the apartment building.

***

The day had gone by as his usual schedule. Vanderwood had watched some secret agent movies and yelled at the TV that they were doing it wrong, made food for himself and the redhead, which Seven barely ate in favor of these disgusting chips that he'd somehow won a warehouse full of - Vanderwood didn't want to know - and he'd cleaned the house, slowly so as not to do too much now that he was finally allowed out of bed and out of the house again.

As Seven’s handler, Vanderwood spent most of his time cleaning up after the kid while Seven worked which he was really good at getting sucked into, so the cleaning would take all of Vanderwood’s focus too. Still, he couldn't get the idea out of his mind that he'd slept with someone he really shouldn't have. It just made him feel gross. Maybe he should head to the bar again to actually have a drink and a smoke. Picking up a hooker tonight was out of the question, even though he knew he could easily go again.

Vanderwood went to the same bar, figuring that the blonde wouldn't be there again, and he was right. Still, something felt weird. There were eyes on him. He scanned the room. It seemed this was a bit of a local hang out for motorcycle gangs. Vanderwood had seen several of the vehicles outside of the bar, but now he saw that there was a group of similarly dressed in leather men over in the corner of the bar, and for whatever reason, they were watching him.

He shrugged and sat at the bar, feigning dropping his guard. If there were eyes on him, it was better to pretend he thought nothing of it. He ordered some hard liquor and drank it back. It wasn't long before he heard footsteps approaching, not just one set but several. Their boots left heavy thuds, so they couldn't possibly hope to sneak up on him. Vanderwood turned in his chair to look at the three thugs that had approached. This really wasn't good. Whatever they wanted, he would have to give, because he wasn't in the state to really fight.

"Hello there, gentleman, what can I do for you?" That wasn't well received, a rather tall one with short blond hair, the underside a dark brown spoke up, his arms crossed and stance indicating that he was looking for a fight, not yet ready to swing, but looking for a reason. "You can stop sleeping with our women."

Oh, so that was it huh? So, the albino man he'd seen must have been some sort of member of this gang, then. Come to think of it, he had been wearing the same leather jacket these goons were. The tall one spoke again. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Vanderwood sighed and placed his glass on the bar top. "I don't have much to say other than that I didn't know. She threw herself at me, and I was in the mood." That was the God's honest truth, but a short one to the right side of the one that had spoken grabbed a bottle from the bar counter and smashed it. "That's my sister you're talking about!" Vanderwood jumped up to avoid his swing, but he was too slow, and now there was a cut down over his left hip. It was better than getting a cut to his crotch, which was where the guy had been aiming. "Hey, hey, let's calm down." Maybe reasoning would work? Probably not, all three looked angry now, but then he heard the door open.

"Hey, Zen. Glad you got my text. We found the douche who screwed your woman." The tall one was obviously the general leader of this group. Vanderwood turned his head just enough to watch the albino from his periphery. The guy looked heartbroken, and it made Vanderwood's heart clench. That look on his face was Vanderwood's fault. At this point, Vanderwood was getting ready to accept his fate, but then the albino spoke up. "Back off guys, it's not his fault. Vira was trying to get back at me."

Okay, Vanderwood hadn't been expecting that, and the albino was apparently full of surprises. He turned to Vanderwood now, noticing his wound. "Holy shit, you cut him? You need to get that looked at. Come with me." Vanderwood just shook his head. "No, I can take care of it myself." His jacket pocket had everything he needed to stitch himself up, and he reached in to grab it, showing it to the younger man. "I just need somewhere to sit where I know I won't get cut open further." The younger man gave him a weird look, but didn’t try to argue with him, which was rather refreshing.

The Zen guy nodded towards the others and the tall one reluctantly pushed the other two goons along with him. It didn't take long to stitch himself up as Vanderwood sat outside in the open air with Zen. "Hey, man. I really didn't know." The albino had been pretty quiet up until now, but his eyes roamed over the taller man before he shrugged. "I know...I'm sorry about my…buddies. They get a little excitable sometimes." Zen pulled out a pack of smokes which Vanderwood recognized as Black Angel brand. Vanderwood could really go for a smoke, although he preferred the rough taste of generic cigarettes, but he was pleased when the albino held out the pack for him to take one.

Vanderwood popped the cig in the corner of his mouth before producing his own lighter with which he lit his own and then the albino's before taking a long drag. His muscles relaxed slowly, his other addiction not nearly as soothing as sex, but it got the job done when he needed it. It was killing him slowly, but Vanderwood really didn't care. He was most likely going to die early anyway, and it wasn’t like he had anything to live for.

Zen piped up again after a moment. "To tell you the truth, I'm leaving the gang. I've gotten a bigger role at my acting job. That's why Vira was always so mad at me, too...I'm addicted to my job more than I'm interested in her." Vanderwood just nodded. He didn't know what else to do. Guy talk wasn't exactly something he really did. The last person he'd had a heart to heart with was dead, and the others he'd always just pushed away.

Once their cigs were down to the filter, they each stomped them out. Zen turned to Vanderwood and offered him his hand, which the brunet took and gave a solid shake. It was weird, but whatever, it wasn't like he was going to see the guy again. "No worries about Vira...But if you ever want to come see a show, look up my name." For a heartbroken guy, Zen could really put on a smile. "Yeah, I'll think about it."

Vanderwood laid in bed, fingers playing along the bandage of what would most certainly be a new scar. Just another to add to the collection. It wasn't like he didn't have enough already. At least this one wasn't going to take months to heal. His emotional scars were worse than the physical anyway, and there was no healing from that. Zen...he would do his best to forget the guy. It was safer for him, but if Vanderwood ever saw him again, he'd have to give the guy a smoke to return the favor.

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dragongem777 · 7 years

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FFXV prompt. Gladnis. One of them is dealing with horrible back pain and the other tries to help with a massage. You can decide who does what here. I could imagine them both in either position. Gladio could get hurt doing a fight or while training and Ignis could get hurt, well, doing a fight too or he could be stressed, etc. It's all up to you. Have fun writing!

The gentle humming of the Regalia coming to a slow and steady stop was the small bit of change that it took to rouse Gladio from his slight doze.

He blinked a couple times in the bright lights of the surrounding outpost, suddenly very aware that all the progress that the EXIRNIS workers put into their lights even rivaled the shining sun.

Lestallum was truly incredible.

“We’re here.” Ignis’s steady voice accompanied the sounds of the car doors being opened on both sides of the vehicle, and the larger man let out a satisfied sigh as he stretched out his cramped legs.

The day had been full of bounty hunting and miscellaneous shenanigans. Despite being in the presence of royalty, they still found themselves almost constantly broke, and the only way to replenish their waning bank account was through the hunts. They ran into other quests as well, but today had been mainly about taking out as many of the menaces that they could.

And it was exhausting.

This was also on top of the incident that had recently very nearly obliterated them.

And that was thanks to Ardyn, no doubt - the very thought made him twitch with anger.

The fact that Noctis was still alive and breathing was a miracle to begin with. But for all of them to come out alive after the debacle with the Archaean was dumb luck.

With a loud yawn, Gladiolous allowed his massive arms to stretch far above him, instantly feeling relieved after the long car ride. He squinted in the sunlight, but noted dully that the evening was close upon them.

The days just kept getting shorter and shorter.

“WOO! This means beds, baby!” Prompto’s characteristically enthusiastic shout caused a small smirk to tug at Gladio’s lips as he watched the blond bound up the ramp that lead to Lestallum’s market.

How that kid had so much energy after the day was a true mystery.

“Indeed, but only after we replenish our curatives and shop.” A loud groan responded to Ignis’s sound words, and Gladio quirked an eyebrow as he watched Noctis throw his head back in defiance while they continued to make their way towards the notorious Leville.

“Can we do that after a nap?” The prince whined, which was quickly accompanied by Prompto’s eager agreement.

The King’s Shield watched as Ignis let out a frustrated, but quiet sigh as he very characteristically reached a hand up to adjust his glasses. “Alright. Make a list of the things that you need, and be sure not to forget anything.”

Noctis and Prompto’s cheers were the only response Ignis received, and Gladio couldn’t help but let a deadpan expression fall across his face as he turned to look at him.

“You’re too easy on ‘em.” The phrase could have been engraved on plaque given how many times Gladio said that to the man he walked beside.

“They need their rest, and besides, it will be faster this way.” Ignis responded curtly, once again fidgeting with his glasses.

“Huh, if you say so. But they’re just going to keep taking advantage of you, you know.” Gladio said matter-a-factly, watching as the brunet cast a slight glance in his direction, but offered no rebuttal.

The two continued on in silence, but every so often Gladiolous found himself sneaking a peek in Ignis’s direction.

From a side glance, it was almost shocking to see how worn down the man looked. The bags under his eyes weren’t hidden by his glasses from this view, making the exhaustion so much more obvious in his face. The mask he typically wore to hide it was seemingly flawed, as Gladio found his eyes narrowing as the conspicuousness of his comrade’s fatigue revealed itself.

They had already reached the hotel by the time Gladio had even considered saying something, and he leaned heavily against the entranceway as he watched while Ignis paid the clerk the fees for the rooms. Prompto and Noctis had seemingly had some of their energy restored, because the moment Ignis handed them their keys, the two had decided that their hunger was outweighing their need to sleep.

“We’re just gonna head over to the marketplace for a bite, you two can join us later if you want!” Prompto had said as he pocketed the key and made for the exit with Noct.

“Be sure to make those lists!” Ignis called after them, another deep sigh escaping between his lips as the two, practically falling over each other, disappeared from sight.

A low chuckle made Gladio’s lips turn up in a smile, and with a light pat on Ignis’s shoulder, he pointed towards the stairs that lead to their room. “We’ll get them later. For now, let’s just get settled.”

A huff of agreement was Ignis’s response, and the two made their way up the large staircase and into their designated room.

“Be sure to make your list too, Gladio.” Ignis voiced plainly as he set the party’s collective pack onto the table.

The larger man finished closing the door behind him, and he watched Ignis’s back as the man unpacked a few things from the sack. Once he found a water bottle and his glasses case, he walked over to the side of the bed nearest to the window and sat himself down. Gladio walked forward while he shrugged off his jacket, and he reached for the tank top that Ignis had neatly set on the table. He watched while he pulled on the shirt as Ignis unscrewed the top of the water bottle and downed a good portion of the contents.

“We made some good gil today.” Gladio commented, again keeping a close eye on Ignis’s expression.

“Mmm.” Ignis responded, removing his glasses from his face and proceeded to gently rub the lenses with the cloth he had retrieved from his case.

Gladio’s heart seemed to stop and thud loudly at the same time.

Ignis looked… so tired.

The bags under his eyes that Gladio had only glimpsed at before were now the starkest contrast on his handsome face, and his very demeanor changed the moment his defenses lowered. His eyelids blinked slowly as he worked on the miniscule task to clean the smudged lenses, but his exhaustion made it appear as though he had just completed an arduous battle with a griffon.

Gladio had thought of it several times just how much Ignis did for their small pack. He was their chaperone, driving hours on end without break, and sometimes even through the night. As much as the others attempted to protest, Ignis’s sound reason being either that they were too tired and risked endangering the rest of the group, or that he was fine driving in the first place was enough to shut up the three and leave him to drive. Gladio had speculated several times, however, that Ignis typically did this just because he knew how truly exhausted they were.

The man also cooked for them. Each morning, noon and night, Ignis was the one to find a way to keep them fed, and the cooking, shopping, and preparation was left nearly solely to him. The group was always forced, mainly by Gladio, to help with clean up, but that was the majority of Ignis’s aid when it came to cooking.

Ignis was also the one to keep track of their money, maps, and all of their belongings. This wasn’t even mentioning his role in their battles.

Gladio sighed, and he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt stab at him as he realized he should have caught this much, much earlier. Compared to the rest of them, Ignis had barely rested at all since the incident with the Archaean, and yet there he was, shopping, cooking, fighting, and driving.

He closed his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck as the guilt once again crept up on him. With a slight huff, the brunet walked the few short steps over to the bed where Ignis sat and gently placed himself beside him.

“I trust you’ll have the list done soon?” The light brunet asked without looking up from his task, but when he didn’t receive an immediate response he turned his tired, questioning gaze up to look at the warrior next to him.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” Gladio chuckled, “You really need to take a break though.” He said fondly as he placed a hand on Ignis’s shoulder, only for his expression to morph into one of shock. “Damn, Iggy.” The man said incredulously as his fingers prodded the muscle along his shoulders. “You’re tense.”

“Yes, well, we haven’t exactly been dabbling in stress-free situations, now have we?” Iggy responded dully, casting his gaze downwards again towards his glasses, ignoring the other man’s continuous touch.

Gladio couldn’t help the small wince as guilt, once again, slapped him in the face.

And we sure as hell haven’t been helping, have we… Gladio thought before he spoke. “How do you even sleep at night?” He asked as he used his thumb to rub the near-solid muscle along Ignis’s back.

“If it bothers you that much, I’ll endeavor to seek out a masseuse at the next campsite we find ourselves.” The green-eyed man responded flippantly, but Gladio couldn’t help the small smirk that crawled up his face as he noticed Ignis’s blinks become heavier as he continued to work at the tense muscle beneath his hand.

With a cheeky smirk, the warrior’s face lit up as an idea flashed into his mind. “Well, lucky for you I just so happen t’be able to help with that.” With a quick movement, Gladio positioned himself so that one leg was bent up onto the bed with one leg hanging down so that he could face forward. “Here,” with careful, but quick hands, Gladio snatched away the glasses and cloth from Ignis’s hand and set them on the near side table.

When Ignis turned give him a puzzled look, Gladio merely smirked and gestured for him to face the same direction he did. With a beat of uncertainty, Ignis slowly complied, and turned himself so that his back was to the man behind him. “You’ll want to take this off.” Gladio urged as he tugged at the jacket Ignis wore. Without a word, again, the younger man obeyed and slowly allowed the leather material to fall from his shoulders, from which then Gladio softly tossed to the other bed. “Right, now just relax.” The brunet urged, allowing his large hands to slide up towards his comrade’s shoulders. Gladio worked carefully yet sturdily at the rock-hard muscle beneath his hands, being sure to knead and circle in patterns that would release the most tension.

As his hands worked, he couldn’t help but notice how slim Ignis’s neck was…or how his toned muscles felt beneath his large hands. His body was beautifully sculpted with lean muscle, and his light complexion was silky beneath his touch.

He missed it.

“Did you hear me?” Ignis’s voice suddenly broke through Gladio’s thoughts, and he thanked whatever gods were on their side that he was positioned behind Ignis, as his expression surely would have given away his thoughts.

“Uh, no. Sorry. What was that?” Gladio said, rather proud at how smooth his tone came out.

“I said I’ve meant to say this for a while now, but you’re quite proficient at this. Where did you learn?”

The larger man found himself smiling at that. “I didn’t learn anywhere.” He huffed amusedly, allowing his hands to press softly down on Ignis’s arms, massaging the tense muscle. “You don’t really have to, it’s just something that you see once and ya’ get it.”

“Well you’re – mmm …quite good.” Gladio bit his lip at the soft sound that Ignis emitted when he rubbed his thumbs in circles down the length of his slender back.

“Nah, you’re the one who cooks up all those fancy meals out of thin air. I got nothin’ on you.” Gladio felt Ignis chuckle underneath his touch, and he couldn’t help the small smile that came to his lips as the tension eased just a bit in light of it.

“You seem to be good with your hands, so perhaps cooking would suite you just fine.”

“I think you’re forgetting that I’m the guy that lugs the giant sword around. Not dual daggers.”

“Well – mmph …maybe we should switch it up, then.”

Gladio laughed loudly at that. “That would be something. That’d be a nice surprise for Ardyn, dontcha think?”

“…mmm…perhaps…”

Gladio’s smile faltered at the rather listless response, and for a moment he thought he had touched on a sensitive subject, but when he slightly turned his torso to the side to attempt to catch Ignis’s expression, he noticed that his head had slowly lowered, and his eyes were closed.

Ah.

“Here, Iggy, my -uh - my back’s gettin’ a little sore, can you lay on your stomach for me?”

Without energy to wonder why, Ignis complied and shifted his body so that he could slowly stretch out his legs. He gently lowered himself facedown onto the bed, his arms crossed beneath his sideways turned head.

“Yeah, like that. There we go.” Gladio said softly, adjusting himself so that he could work both hands up and down the lean back with more freedom. Soft silence filled the room, and the warrior couldn’t help but stare at the stunning green eyes. They were so tired, yet bore a weight too much for a man of his age.

“You can close your eyes, Iggy…” Gladio’s soft words drifted in the space between them, the gentle words seeming to release the hold that Ignis had put over himself, and after a moment of hesitation, the half-lidded eyes shut.

With a fond smile pulling at his lips, Gladio continued to work his hands gently around Ignis’s lithe frame, basking in the feeling of the man’s slender form beneath his hands.

“Ardyn will be trouble.” The muffled words surprised Gladio, and he cast a glance in Ignis’s direction, but his eyes remained closed.

“Yeah…he will…” The older man sighed, thinking back to their close encounter just a few days before.

“We need to keep a close eye on him…and on Noct…”

Tilting his head, the King’s Shield let his hands slide down Ignis’s back, fingers extending to his sides as he let himself work at the lower part of his back. He almost twitched, however, when he felt the light brunet shudder underneath his touch.

His self-control wavered instantly. Perhaps he could get lower….

Gladio shook his head, telling himself that this was definitely not the situation to pull something like that, so he instead continued to work his hands over the slender frame, only allowing himself the small pleasure of roaming his lower back in the pretense of the massage.

“We do, Iggy. We’re all safe right now. You don’t have to worry about that.” The man was thankful he had remembered to respond – his mind has wandered to dangerously damning thoughts.

“…you were almost killed.”

Gladio could have sworn anyone within a mile could hear how hard his heart thudded at the quiet words. They were so few, but…they held a weight behind them that he could barely understand.

Ignis’s soft words hung in the air, only the easy ruffling of clothing could be heard as silence filled the small hotel room.

“We all have to do our part, Iggy. What I did is my duty, but…you’ve really outdone yourself. You should depend on us more.” The gentle words were not harsh nor reprimanding. They were more of a plea than anything else.

Gladiolus waited several moments for a response as his hands massaged the muscle beneath him, and he found his gaze traveling up the length of Ignis’s body before his eyes settled on his face.

The soft and steady breathing was enough to let the amber-eyed man know that Ignis had finally allowed sleep to claim him. Even so, for a few more minutes Gladiolus simply let himself run his hands up and down his body, knowing that the comfort of touch would ease the man’s sleep.

Once he was sure that Ignis had fallen into a deeper sleep, Gladio tentatively eased his touch until he stopped entirely, allowing the gentle breathing of the man before him to become the only sound in the room.

Another small smile came to the warrior’s lips as he watched the peacefulness of rest wash over Ignis’s expression. He looked much younger without his glasses coupled with sleep’s gentle touch. Without any control over his actions, Gladio reached out a tender hand and brushed away a few strands of loose hair. His normally upkept style was adorably falling out, and Gladio couldn’t help but think back to when they had first met – how he had looked then.

Though…had he ever looked this vulnerable?

“I’m gonna take better care a’ you, Iggy…” His motion was barely a conscious one as he lowered himself enough to plant a light kiss on the light brown head.

Fate was not kind to him today, it seemed, when Ignis hummed lightly in his sleep in response to the contact, Gladio had to clench his hands to keep them from wrapping themselves around the lithe frame.

How long would he pine for this man?

No. Gladio told himself. It would do neither of them any good to get personal feelings mixed in this…

That’s what he had told himself the first time he had sparred with him. That’s what he had told himself when they had been assigned this mission by the king.That’s what he had told himself the first time they had been left alone in a cozy motel.

And that’s what he would tell himself now.

But every single fiber of his being was resisting it.

It hadn’t mattered when the first time they had met Gladio had sworn the man was the epitome of strength and beauty. It hadn’t mattered that each day they grew to know each other, the undeniable tension became stronger. It hadn’t mattered the day that Gladio had purposefully brushed his hand against his. It hadn’t mattered the first time their lips met, nor the time when they had allowed their bodies to connect.

It didn’t matter.

Because all they knew was that their first priority was ensuring Noctis’s safety and wellbeing.

They had agreed that personal feelings were to be set aside.

It was for the best.

…and that’s what Gladio had to convince himself of over, and over again.

Especially in moments such as these.

“Awww, look at the chocobooosss!” Prompto drawled, his eyes lit with affection as he looked at the screen of his camera.

“What is it with you and these guys, anyway?” Noct asked from where he sat directly next to him, taking a chomp out of the shish kabob he held in his hand.

“I can’t help it! They’re so cute and fluffy.” The blond peeped excitedly, tapping his thumb against the arrow to flip through the next photographs.

They had just finished winding down for the day. It had been full of rather exciting moments, and they had earned a good amount of gil from the hunts they had undertaken. Despite everything, they had managed to all make it back in one piece with their wallets brimming.

The most exciting hunt, however, was definitely for the behemoth.

Prompto couldn’t remember being more excited to hunt something that would most likely end his life. But it was for a GREAT cause - a cause to help the chocobos! With the fall of the monster, they had not only managed to secure a decent amount of money, but also help the feathery companions roam freely again - and, of course, allow the four of them access to the spritely birds.

“Whatever you say.” Noct chuckled, adjusting himself in the plastic chair to better view the camera.

They had managed to make it to Lestallum by the time evening was rolling around thanks to Ignis. They likely would have camped had Noctis and Prompto not so avidly voiced their discontent for the decision, so they ended up putting on the extra 3 hour drive so that they could stay in a cozy hotel that night.

Usually Ignis would have protested the matter, stating that it was important that they prepare themselves for the next day as early as possible, but they had all exchanged surprised glances when he relented with only so much as a sigh.

They were low on supplies, so stopping in Lestallum was a needed destination anyway...at least that’s what Prompto tried to convince himself of. Never mind that they were within walking distance to a convenience store from their campsite.

“Oh, oh! Look at this one!” The young man twittered excitedly, bringing the camera closer to Noct’s face - which immediately melted into a booming laugh.

“W-what!? HOW did you get that!?” The prince said through his tearful fits. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Gladio that mad.” He heaved.

“Or that burnt.” Prompto agreed, wiping tears from his eyes as his own laughter died down.

The laughter had brought a bit of attention to their small table, but luckily the market seemed busy enough that it didn’t cause a disturbance.

The little outdoor restaurant at the corner of the marketplace was their favorite place to eat in Lestallum - just out of view enough that they could talk privately without intrusive ears listening, but it was lively enough that nothing looked suspicious.

Prompto had thought that they would have been too tired to so much as walk to their hotel room, but the moment he had popped out of the car he realized that he was absolutely starving - and so was Noct judging by the way he had scarfed down an entire plate of the shish kabobs.

“And look who it is, the man himself.” Noct said with a little chuckle, leaning back in the white chair as he gestured behind Prompto.

Sure enough, as soon as Prompto turned around he saw the giant form of a man idling towards them. “‘ey there, big guy!” The blond called as soon as Gladio was within hearing range. He waved him down as he neared closer. “Come to join us?”

Gladio grunted in response, pulling out the chair next to Prompto and all but dropped into the seat. “Yeah, I’m starved.” He grumbled, his tattooed arm reaching for one of the menus on the checkered tablecloth.

“I think you’re outta luck. Noct ate them out of house and home.” The blond pointed out, earning a playful shove from the prince next to him.

“You’d better not.” The warrior voiced lowly without taking his eyes off the menu.

“Hey, where’s Ignis? Sketching out plans for tomorrow?” Noct asked with a quirk of an eyebrow, taking a swig from his soda can.

“He’s sleeping.”

Gladio’s odd tone, mixed with the complete foreignity of the concept left Prompto and Noct in a stunned silence.

What?

The two exchanged glances before the blond finally shook himself out of his stupor to say something. “Isn’t it a little early?” He asked stupidly, curious eyes fixed on the amber irises.

“Is he okay?” Noct questioned immediately afterwards, uncrossing his legs so that he could lean forward, evident concern written on his face.

Gladio still refused to look at the two, and instead huffed darkly with a shake of his head. “The guy’s literally gotta pass out before one of us notices that he’s actually human…” His low voice was a mixture of affection and utter exasperation.

“Wait - he passed out!?” Noct exclaimed, arms bracing himself on the table as he all but jumped from his chair.

“Cool it, Highness, he’s fine. Just tired.” The King’s Shield eased, gesturing with his hand to settle down.

“Dude, he’s gotta be dead. Ignis doesn’t just go to sleep if he’s tired. He hasn’t even shopped yet!” Prompto declared, wide eyes shooting between the two men at the table.

“Well, it’s a good thing that we’re all competent enough to know how to pick up a potion and pay for it .” Gladio snapped with a sharp glare, angrily throwing down the menu on the table.

Again, Prompto and Noct were stunned into silence, each staring at Gladio with wide eyes. The warrior’s attention, however, was focused on the coming waiter.

“Hey, there mister, didn’t see ya. Looking to get anything?” The older gentlemen asked, and Noct and Prompto exchanged glances as they waited for their peer to finish ordering.

“...you okay, dude?” Prompto asked after the server left, eyeing the brunet with a cautious look.

Gladio sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his face hard with both of his hands. “Yeah,” he blearily answered after a brief pause, “today’s been a long day. And I’m hungry.”

Prompto found himself letting out a small sigh of relief at the admittance. Dealing with angry Gladio was both terrifying and grueling. Usually it involved vigorous exercise and about three yelling matches - well - that was if Ignis wasn’t around.

“I’ll second that.” The freckle-faced man said, stretching his arms above him as he let out a loud yawn.

“Can’t wait for beds.” Noctis agreed, gazing up at the setting sun.

“And a shower.” The warrior added with a grunt.

“Here ya go.” Prompto almost jumped when he suddenly heard the old man’s voice behind him, and he watched as he set two steamy plates full of meat sticks in front of Gladio.

Gladio grunted his thanks before he greedily dug into the hot food.

The blond let out another large yawn as he looked back down at his camera. He chuckled to himself as he once again glanced over the picture of the smoldering warrior, and he felt his heart jump slightly as he flipped to the next picture of Noct set against a cool blue water background...

He was just so photogenic.

Deciding to look those over later, with a happy sigh he turned off the device. “Whelp - I think it’s time that we -”

“Uh-uh.” Gladio interrupted through a mouthful of food. Prompto watched as he shook his head and swallowed before he continued. “You two aren’t going anywhere. You’re gonna stay here and write those lists ‘til I’m done, then we’re hitting the market.”

Oh, yeah.

He and Noct looked at each other, pursing their lips as they had all but completely forgotten about Ignis’s earlier instructions.

“You two forgot, didn’tja.” Gladio glowered while taking another bite out of his dinner.

“Yep.” Prompto admitted readily, reaching into his pocket for his phone. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Noct reluctantly did the same.

“That’s what I thought. Finish those up.”

“Yessir…” The blond complied, typing up his various wanted/needed items.

Prompto had shopped in the Lestallum market plenty of times, but it was odd actually having to scout out the items that the whole team required. Usually, he just bounced around, picking up various items that might help them along the way, Ignis either giving him a look that told him to put it back, or earning a short nod of approval.

It was almost a little daunting, but he was having fun regardless.

“Okay, okay, okay...2 Jabberwock steaks, 6 Leidan potatoes, 3 packs of black pepper...aaannndddd.” The blond said to himself, tapping his lips with the top of his stylus.

Gladio had assigned each of them a third of the master list that Ignis had put together the night before and sent to each of their phones. That, plus his own personal shopping list, equaled quite a lengthy number of items.

And that was just for him.

How Ignis managed to keep it all together was beyond him.

He had managed to gather most of the material by now, but he had yet to stop by the produce section of the bustling market. So, with a click of the pen, he placed his phone/list back into the pocket of his jacket and gathered up the three bags he held in his arms. Whirling around to make his way towards the northern part of the market, he paused when he saw Noct at the stand next to his designation.

Prompto couldn’t help the wide smile that spread across his lips as he watched while Noctis tapped a finger against his chin as he perused the various vials and bottles.

He’d have jumped on him by now if he wasn’t carrying fragile material.

Instead, he opted to whip out his camera, and with a soft ka-chink he effectively captured the precious moment as well as the prince’s attention.

“Gotcha!” Prompto quipped, skipping his way over to where Noct was standing.

It looked as though Noctis was about to say something, but he opted instead to shake his head and look back towards the wares. “You’re such a nerd.” The black-haired prince said fondly.

“Yep! But I’m your nerd.” The blond responded happily, giving Noct a quick spank on the butt before he tittered over where the merchant was selling produce. “Let’s see…” He mused thoughtfully, eyes narrowing as he scanned the various fruits, veggies, and meats. “Okay, I neeeeedd....” He paused for a moment to pull out his phone, flipping on the screen so that the list came into view. “2 Jabberwock steaks, 6 Leiden potatoes, 3 packs of black pepper, 3 caem carrots, and 8 bundles of cleigne wheat.” He told the merchant, giving him a bright smile as the man proceeded to pack up the various ingredients.

“Hey, Prompto,” The blond turned his head when he heard his name, and he raised his eyebrow in question when Noct turned to look at him. “How many bottles of ether do we need? Gladio just told me to guess.”

“You’re askin’ me?” The gunslinger questioned, pulling out the appropriate amount of gil the merchant requested.

“I can never tell when I’ll need it.” Noctis admitted, “And I’m the only one who uses this stuff.”

“Uh - then shouldn’t you know exactly how much you need?” Prompto shot the clerk a nod of thanks as he took the bags and walked over to his partner.

“Hmmm…” The prince continued to ponder the question, but Prompto was distracted when he noticed Gladio approaching the two of them. Instinctively, the young man pulled out his camera.

“Say, “cheese”!” He called to the two of them, Noctis managed to turn around in time to give him a soft smile, but the pose Gladio struck from directly behind the young royal was enough to earn a fit of chuckles from the photographer. “That’s great!” He laughed, looking down at the precious photo before he tucked the camera away.

“You guys find everything okay?” The warrior asked, a smile playing on his lips as he shot Prompto a wink.

“Sure did!” Prompto said cheerily as he lifted the grocery bags slung around his arms.

“Noct?” Gladio inquired from beside him, leaning over his shoulder as he looked at the wares in front of him.

“Yeah, I just need to finish grabbing a few things.” Noctis explained, a bit of irritation trailing in his voice as he selected the various potions.

“Good. ‘Cause after this I’m gonna need you t’go fill up the Regalia.” The warrior stated blatantly, reaching for the phone in his back pocket.

“Wha -? Can’t we do that tomorrow?” Noct asked, a plea masking his expression.

“Nope. Might as well do it now. Prompto, you’re gonna go grab Ebony at the other end of the street, here.” The larger man commanded, putting his phone away as he finished looking up the last of the tasks for the day.

“All the way on the other side?” The blond whined, hanging his head at the idea of walking all the way over there just for coffee.

“Yup, that’s the only place they sell it here. And you know what kind to get: Black, level 3 caffeine.”

“But I’ve got all these bags!”

“Gladio, c’mon. We’ve got time to do this tomorrow. Ignis will -”

The older man abruptly turned and shot the two of them a vicious glare. “Stop being little bitches and help out for a change. It’s not gonna kill ya to chip in every now and again instead of leaving it all t’ Ignis.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Noctis asked, his expression both brimming on angry and confused. “I said I’d do it tomorrow!”

“You don’t really expect me to believe that you’d get up early enough to fill the tank before we leave tomorrow right, Noct?”

Prompto watched as a flurry of emotions crossed his face as he thought about his answer. It took but a moment for a slow realization to sink in, and the young man finally bowed his head.

“Didn’t think so.” Gladio confirmed, lightening the tension by giving the prince a light shove. “And if your scrawny arms can’t carry that many bags, Prompto, give ‘em to me.” Gladio turned to address the younger man, reaching out his hands to take the groceries.

“Ah - no i-it’s fine. I got ‘em.” The blond stuttered, giving Gladio half smile and nod, which the man returned with a smirk.

“Right, I’ll see you guys back here in a few minutes.” And with that, the warrior turned his back to walk away into the busy streets.

The two younger men looked at each other once before Noct turned to hand the merchant the required gil, then picked up the bag full of various potions and curatives.

“Never seen Gladio so hyped up about shopping.” Prompto remarked as he walked side by side with Noct, glancing out over the twilight enveloped market.

“T’yeah.” The black-haired royal agreed, rolling his eyes as they weaved their way through the market.

“On the bright side, we won’t have to get up early tomorrow.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well - didn’t we get everything done that we’d usually have to do in the morning…?”

“Huh, I suppose. But usually Ignis does it.”

“Oh, right. Well, at least he won’t have to worry about it either! Poor guy.” Prompto sighed, stretching out his shoulders as he adjusted the bags in his hands. “Musta been half-dead for him to fall asleep before he even got a chance to shop. Think that’s why Gladio’s all pissy? ‘Cause he left it all to us?”

“...I think you’ve got it backwards.” Noct said after a momentary pause, rounding the bend as they headed for the small convenience store with the required energy drink.

Noctis didn’t say anything more on the matter, but there was an odd look in his eye that told Prompto that there was definitely more to what he had said.

Though - of course - Prompto had known, without a doubt, that that wasn’t the reason Gladio was so particular about the matter. He smirked to himself as his little test had given him a clear answer. He had just wanted to know if he and Noct were on the same page.

Turns out they were.

It wasn’t exactly impossible to feel the tension between those two, anyway.

Opting not to prod the matter, Prompto huffed a response and trotted ahead of Noct and up to the entrance way of the door.

With a wide smirk he tugged on the handle of the door. “After you, your princeliness.” The blond said sarcastically, bending his torso as he gave a short bow.

“Many thanks, peasant.” Noctis returned the snarky comment, lightly smacking the blond’s cheek as he entered the store.

“Ow.” Prompto whined, the smile still adorning his lips as he rubbed the side of his face.

What was he ever going to do with him.

When Noct and Prompto finally finished their short errand, darkness had finally fallen upon the outpost. Though, there was hardly a difference in the lighting as the bright city was lit from every corner. The people still roamed about the streets, though there was less, the city nonetheless retained its liveliness.

Though Prompto wouldn’t have considered shopping to be particular entertaining, he found that the time he was able to spend with Noct outside of slicing up various beasts and monsters incredibly enjoyable. The trip to the convenience store had turned into a bit of a sabbatical when the two had found themselves on a mini side-quest to help the store clerk restock the shelves. Why things always happened like that, he would never know. Wherever they went they seemed to just scream: “CAN I HELP YOU!?” He supposed it didn’t matter where they were or what they did though, as long as they were together.

After they had filled up the Regalia, they had taken the initiative to stock the Ebony in the back seat, taking one or two for the morning for Ignis. Thankfully, they hadn’t run into anything else after that, and the two finally began to head back to the market to meet Gladio.

When they made their way to the center of the market, however, Gladio wasn’t where they expected he would be. He was instead browsing small stall with various herbs, plants, and flowers. Prompto couldn’t help the look he shot to Noct as they watched the florist cut off a few stalks of a particularly pretty green flower.

“Hey there, big guy!” Prompto called as they neared, smiling when the warrior whipped his head around to watch the two approach. “Oooo... “ The blond cooed, staring obviously at the small bouquet that the merchant was tying together. “Got something - or someone on your mind?” The blond teased, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at the muscular man.

“It’s for Ignis.”

The number of times the two had been stunned into silence that day was beginning to total to a ridiculous amount.

That was certainly not what they expected to hear.

“You’re getting him flowers?” Noct asked after a brief, shocked paused.

“That’s so... sweet, Gladio.” Prompto sighed, a sappy smile slapped across his face.

“It’s tea, you morons. ” The larger man growled, nodding at the clerk as he paid him for the small plant.

“You’re getting him flowers that are also tea? Dude, you sure know your way to a man’s heart. A gift that’s pretty and practical. Ignis is gonna die. I know I would.” Prompto stated blatantly, clasping his hands together to bring up near his face, popping his foot while he was at it.

“Iggy gets this stuff every time we’re here. We might as well save some time and get it now.” Gladio explained readily, clutching the bag with the flowers in one hand and hoisting up the other items in the other.

It was pretty transparently obvious what Gladio’s motive for their meticulous shopping was by now.

“You guys find everything?” The warrior asked a moment later, leading the two through the market.

“Yup. Regalia is ready to go. Complete with stocked Ebony.” Noct answered.

“Huh, you two aren’t completely useless after all.” The King’s Shield mused, casting a teasy smile over his shoulder.

“And we’ve still got time left for one round of King’s Knight.” The young blond said eagerly, adjusting his grip on the bags he carried.

“Yeah, I guess we do. Since we don’t have to be up at the crack of dawn tomorrow.” Noct complied with a nod.

“Yeess, it’s gonna be nice to sleep in for a change. I’m sure Ignis’ll appreciate it too.” Prompto said happily, glancing curiously at Gladio to watch his reaction.

The warrior let a warm smile come to his face at the comment, and he briefly shot a small glance at the small bag of the flower he held in his hand.

“Yeah. I’m sure he will, too.”

The soft light against closed eyelids stirred the sleeping man from his dreams, and he found that when he finally managed to crack his tired eyes open, the daytime light shown brightly through the closed curtains.

...too brightly.

...much, much too brightly.

Barely managing the willpower to keep his eyes open, Ignis furrowed his brows as he stirred slightly in his bed, arms moving to gradually prop up his torso on his elbows from his side. Tired eyes blinked confusedly around his surroundings.

Several things flashed through his mind at once.

First of all, the time was much later in the day when he usually woke up. The usual scene of the dawning sun was nowhere near what he was seeing now. It was nearly noon, he guessed.

Second, he was definitely sure that he, at no point, had dressed himself in a pair of cozy shorts before he had fallen asleep.

Which immediately brought up the question of how he had fallen asleep.

Still too tired to fully comprehend what his current situation actually entailed, he finished sitting himself up and reached up a hand to rub his thumb and forefinger against his eyelids, blearily blinking around.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept so deeply. His body was telling him that he had hardly even stirred through the night- and gods did his muscles feel loose. He had certainly slept far longer than usual.

How long, was indeed the question.

He was about to take it upon himself to find the answer, but the sound of heavy footsteps in the kitchen drew his attention towards the other side of the room.

“Mornin’, gorgeous.” The obvious form of Gladio made its way nearer to him, two mugs of steaming liquid held in each hand. A gentle smile was playing on his lips, and he stood there for a moment, simply taking in Ignis’s sleepy posture.

Ignis blinked confusedly up at the man, his brows once again furrowing as he slowly regained his wakeful senses.

The action drew another affectionate smile from Gladio’s lips, and the warrior shook his head lightly before he continued to make his way towards the bed. “How’dja sleep?” He asked, a bit of a tease playing on his words as he sat himself down on the side of the bed.

“...well, I suppose…” Ignis answered hoarsely, uncertainty evident in his tone.

“Looked like it.” Gladio commented, his eyes roaming the strategist's bare form. “I’m glad. You needed it.”

Silence filled the space between them. Ignis blinked once at the man in front him before he turned his eyes to his hands that rested in his lap.

It was as he thought. The time he needed to prepare for today and yesterday was wasted.

He couldn’t slow the rising guilt that was building in him. And his anxiety only increased when he realized he had all but left the group to fend for themselves the night before. Nothing was done. He hadn’t planned for the day, he hadn’t shopped, he hadn’t even so much as glanced at a map, nor had he fed them the night before or this morning.

And he couldn't, for the life of him, figure out how it happened. He had never considered he’d ever be tired enough to do something so shamefully selfish.

“I...apologize. I…-” Ignis began after a long pause, but stopped when Gladio interrupted him.

“No, Iggy. It’s fine.” The man said vocally, nodding reassuringly towards him. “We’re staying in Lestallum today, anyway. Here.” His confident tone took Ignis off guard, and he absentmindedly took the mug he was handed.

Looking down, a small flurry of butterflies filled his stomach as he watched the small green flower float in the steamy liquid.

Now this was something he hadn’t had in a long while…

A plant that was typically native to Duscae - with properties that served to revitalize and relax the body - it had been one of the first drinks outside of Ebony that Ignis had thoroughly enjoyed...it was also something that he and Gladio had frequently enjoyed together back in Insomnia when life was so much simpler.

Green eyes shot back up to the amber ones, which returned the look with a soft smile. “Don’t worry about the list, we got everything last night. And Prompto and Noct are out hunt’n a bounty for cockatrices to make up for the feast they devoured last night and this morning.” Gladio said with a roll of his eyes and a huff, taking a sip out of his own mug. “The route’s charted, and tomorrow’s lookin’ good for weather. So we shouldn’t have any delays.”

Ignis sat in a stupor for a moment. The shock of the gesture was rendering him speechless, and he found his eyes staring intently at Gladio’s face, trying to make out any expression that would explain this onslaught of thoughtfulness between the three of them.

Without finding any answers, the brunet couldn't think of anything to say, so instead decided to take a tentative sip from the mug.

It was perfect. Just the way he liked it.

“You watched how I made it.” Ignis noted, a soft expression masking his face.

“Maybe,” Gladio admitted with a chuckle before he swiftly stood to his feet. “Or maybe I just know you better than y’think I do.” The warrior said tenderly, leaning forward to plant a soft kiss on the top of Ignis’s head.

The gesture had the strategist's attention fixated on him, it both catching him off guard and stealing his words as he watched while Gladio made his way towards the kitchen.

He paused however, and turned to give Ignis another gentle smile. “We’re a team, Iggy. Not a one-man show. You should depend on us - on me more.”

Ignis faintly recalled hearing those words the night before, and he let a smile come across his lips as he found affection rising in his chest. Though many different answers and arguments flitted through his mind, the one word he settled on seemed to express his thoughts better than he could explain.

“Alright.” He relented with a small nod, watching as a side smile lifted Gladio’s lips.

Gladio stared at him for another long moment before he nodded in return and made his way towards the door, shutting it gently behind him.

Ignis turned his head back towards the mug in his hands, watching as the little green flower seeped its velvety flavor into the water.

He hadn’t expected to be read so easily, but instead of feeling a rise of dread at the notion, he felt comfort. Knowing someone was looking out for him was more comforting than he could have imagined. And though he knew that Gladio, Noct, and Prompto would always have his back, it was different seeing it in the form of something seemingly so trivial…

Especially from Gladio.

Another gentle smile came to his lips as he watched the swirling liquid, and he took a sip from the mug, noting that it likely wasn’t the tea that was leaving such a warm feeling in his chest.

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK ANON *HUUUUGS* THIS KINDA GOT OUT OF MY HANDS - it’s been like...10 years since I’ve gotten around to it - BUT HERE IT IS LOL you can check out my drabbles for more stuff like this hheheheh

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