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archieimagines · 6 months

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two weeks, tops | karl weissman

Summary: The plan: adopt an evacuee to help on your Inverness farm. Not the plan: adopting two.

hi, it's me again! i've been away for a while (sorry) but the power that karl weissman holds is vast and only a fix-it fic for him and esther can save my soul. we'd all love to adopt them. if you haven't watched netflix's bodies, definitely give it a shot! if anyone has any ideas for lovely karl, please comment or send them in! i'd love to write more for him and some pointers would be great. <3warnings: mentions of war and death, mourning. karl using yet another name. word count: 2666 written by: archie

You hovered on the platform, watching as the countless evacuees from London came pouring out of the carriages. Dozens on dozens of children, ready for a new, safer life. They were each swept up by loving new mothers, fussing over their name tags and taking their wee little suitcases, escorting them to cars and buses for a few years of family. The smiling kids were chosen first. They’d clearly had coaching on how to be picked, smiling through the trauma of being uprooted from their lives and planted into the unknown. And then, one by one, the sorry looking ones were claimed. Tatters for clothes, no luggage, barely a silver coin to offer their new parents.

You could give them a better life. You could have, with your chickens and sheep. There’d be eggs for breakfast, newly knitted cardigans, markets on weekends-- and no air raids at all. You’d be warm to the new presence in your cottage, happy even to take siblings that didn’t want to be split, and yet… You just hovered there, wringing your hands, letting every opportunity hurry by. It wouldn’t be hard to reach out and introduce yourself. Why didn’t you? Why couldn’t you bring yourself to step amongst the aspiring foster parents, offering your life to the sweetlings that so desperately needed it?

You sighed, the ache in your chest hollowing as the train departed the station once more. The chatter of evacuees and new parents trickled away, eventually leaving an almost barren platform. The bite of Scottish air dusted your nose pink, but you weren’t sure that the water in your eyes was from the chill.

It wasn’t your first time almost taking in an evacuee. It’d been the same every time. You’d excite yourself with the prospect of the weekly train from London, the thought of a happy little voice in your cottage instead of the silence of your own existence and the occasional caw of a cockerel. You really needed it. To have someone around again. And it always seemed like such a good idea until you were stood on the platform, faced with the reality of the responsibility of a child on your own. A far cry from the future you’d imagined. You and your husband, raising a wee happy family of your own.

Ever since your husband had responded to the war’s call for soldiers, you’d intended to do your best for the war effort and save a child from the bombs of the London Blitz, like a practice for when he came home and you could try for a real family, bringing you a step closer to everything you’d wanted.

Until the postman brought one fateful letter, ending your ideal future and shaking you to the core. Your husband wouldn’t be returning, you wouldn’t have a child with him. The thought of bringing a child into your house and doing it alone…

Then why did the empty platform, devoid of opportunity, hurt you so? Ah, maybe if there was just one child left. A sad, lonely one, hiding somewhere? There’d be so much in common.

You steeled yourself, deciding that on the off chance there was one poor evacuee left in need, you’d take them in, no questions asked. No thinking. No room for doubt. It was time to be stern with yourself, so you marched up the platform, looking in the crevices of the station building, anywhere that a poor wee soul might fold themselves in a corner. The telephone nooks would be the most likely spot.

And sure enough, there was a child! A little girl in a bright red, soot-ridden coat. Only… She was already with a foster parent, peering up at the sharply-dressed man in a trilby hat while he was on the phone.

Her eyes were so round and sweet, her little fist clinging to the edge of the man’s coat, and something unpleasant made a home in your chest. Why did he get to have a child? Sure, he must be on good money to wear a pin-striped suit like that, important enough not to be called away for the military. Maybe he had a wife waiting for them back at home. Why should he have a spouse and a child when you had neither? And she seemed so lovely, too…

You met her eye accidentally, and couldn’t help noticing how absolutely exhausted she seemed. She clearly hadn’t had a bath in days and was in desperate need of a hot meal. The reality dawned on you, and you couldn’t help feeling guilty for your assumptions about the man. You had no business thinking in such a way. She needed all the help she could get, and the suited man was kind enough to offer it to her. He didn’t deserve your disapproval. You mustered the strength and offered the girl a smile and she gave one in return, her eyes so visibly haunted. She’d been through so much, and you’d never know.

You looked away before your smile turned sad. You’d finally decided on taking in an evacuee, only there were no more coming until next week. And by then, you’d probably need convincing all over again, and you’d miss that chance too.

It was a lot to handle. The urge to cry wasn’t sudden, but it was strong. You glanced around and spotted a nearby bench, but before you could take a step, you heard it.

The man’s accent. It didn’t make sense. The foster parent, who you’d assumed was a Scotsman if he lived locally, had a deep Cockney accent. “Nah, I got a kid with me now. You gotta put us up for a while ‘til I can sort summat out. Two weeks, tops.”

Something about the words stilled your feet, the bench blurred in your tearful vision. Saying you tried not to listen in would’ve been a lie. It was your first time hearing such an accent not on an evacuee and something about it was obnoxiously intriguing. That, and the fact he… He needed somewhere to stay? Had he travelled on the train with the evacuees?

“Mike, just shut your kisser and listen for a sec. I’ve got ‘er with me and there’s- No, no. Don’t you fucking call ‘em.” A long pause. With the outburst, you couldn’t help but glance back to the man hunched at the telephone. The little girl’s face told you it all. Those furrowed brows, the worry in the shallow lines of her forehead as she peered up at him. Whatever was going on there, things weren’t going to plan.

He glanced down at her with a sigh, an affectionate hand landing atop her head in weak reassurance. He must’ve seen your shoes from under the rim of his hat, for his face lifted and his eyes pinned on you.

The intensity of that glare surprised you. Heavy brows and a set jaw, a glint in his eye that was deeply critical, giving you a stern once-over. His hand atop the little girl’s head dropped to her nape, guiding her half a step closer to the telephone, tucking her against his side in a protective hold. One thing for sure, he hadn’t just picked her up at the station today. He’d come with her from London. Definitely. The girl’s real father perhaps? Why would he personally bring her all the way-?

“D’you mind?” his defensive call pulled you from your thoughts and you realised you’d been staring. You raised your hands in silent apology and took a step back, once again remembering your place. You’d come here to foster a child in need, not eavesdrop on the telephone calls of obscurely out-of-place Londoners. Your attention fell back on the bench that beckoned you, but you could still clearly hear that thick accent softer in the air as you departed. “...A’right, fine, don’t worry ‘bout it. We’ll be on the next train to Euston, then.”

You settled on the bench, no longer caring to listen to the man’s sigh and the ding of the telephone being put back on its hook. You pulled your coat tighter around you, the light sting of tears behind your eyes growing harder to resist, until you started building your to-do list in your mind. Busying yourself in your head was the quickest way to help yourself from falling into despair, you’d discovered. Staying busy with the farmwork kept your mind and hands busy, and even as you sat there with your afternoon tasks completed, you’d have many more by the time you got home. It was exhausting work to do alone, but at least it helped you stay numb.

The pain of returning home started to grow within you once again, so you dabbed at your eyes and readied yourself to head home. Until you noticed a hue of red from the corner of your eye. “Excuse me? Can I sit here?”

The girl spoke with another surprising accent. Considering her father, you expected a similar deep Londoner’s accent, but the one she came out with was… German? Your brows raised in puzzlement, but you wasted no time in gesturing to the empty side of the bench. “Of course.”

Her father’s face was far from impressed as he approached the bench too, hissing out in a low voice, “Esther! Think about it first.” But it was too late, she’d settled right beside you.

She’d clearly hurried away from him to come and sit with you, and paid no heed at his warning. A little troublemaker, perhaps. “Are you waiting for a train? We just got off ours.” Her grin was bright and sweet, a stark difference from how she carried herself just moments ago.

“Actually, I’m not. I was just--” The father’s steps finally drew to a pause within touching distance of Esther. A looming, protective figure. “Well. That doesn’t matter. I was just about to be off.”

You gathered yourself and stood up, but wee Esther didn’t care, voice bright as sunshine. “You were looking for an evacuee?”

Those eyes felt heavy on you from beneath the trilby hat and you did your best not to look at them. “I… W-well, yes.”

“You have a big house?”

“Uh, it’s more like a farm, really.”

“Wow!” Her beaming face looked back to her father, and you took a glance too. His lips seemed to be pursed in thought, a brow quirked as she rattled on. “You have animals? Land?”

This Esther girl was certainly endearing. You couldn’t help the raising of your cheeks in a smile of your own, infectious from hers. You nodded, “Chickens and sheep, and two whole fields.”

Esther scooted closer on the bench with that ever-contagious grin on her sweet face, her messy braids flopping around her. “Then you must need a hand with all that! My- my father would be super good at it, especially mucking out the animals!” She turned with a laugh towards her father, who seemed less than thrilled that she’d offered him up for such a task.

“Alright, alright, enough from you,” he chastised her, stepping close enough to lay a protective hand atop her head once more. He was clearly a wary man, and you knew something peculiar must’ve happened to bring the two of them here like this, but it didn’t stop his surprisingly charming smile shining at her. “You just like the thought of me covered in shit, eh?”

“It’s not like you’d smell much different!” she snarked.

Your brows raised at the exchange. Granted, you’d little experience with children and parenthood, but you were sure it wasn’t commonplace for a father to swear in front of their child, and it was even less rare that a young girl would talk back in such a way. And yet, they shared a humoured smile.

He raised his gaze to you once more, though it was different this time. The smile on his face was alarmingly attractive, and the cheeky light in his eyes told you he knew it. He tipped his hat and nodded his head, voice polite and clear even with that accent in its veins. “Ka-Ahem. Curtis Bramley, East London. This is my girl. If you’re in need of a hand on your farm, we can offer you four. No need for paying, just a roof and a meal every night. How’s that sound, love?”

It was a lot to be thrown at you, and very quickly. How unorthodox to foster both a child and a fully-grown man; if it were taking in Esther alone, you wouldn’t have to think twice about it. But Esther and her father? Another man… In your home? It’d be like having your dream back, but-- With the wrong man.

Something in you froze, and you blinked up at him. You could already tell, he was so very different from your lost love. Your sandy haired husband, mellow and sweet, with the gentlest disposition in the world. His clothes were always stained with mud or grass, the scruff of his facial hair haphazardly shaven when he found the time for it.

And yet here was Curtis, dressed to the nines even after a day-long steam train journey, his moustache perfectly shaped and sitting on his face just right. Dark hair and dark eyes that visibly held a great many secrets, a shield of charm thick enough to divert the attention. A deep fellow. Certainly more than you ever thought you could handle.

And yet, he had a sweet little girl in need, asking kindly to share your life. The life you’d been living in solitude for far too long. The prospect was nothing short of terrifying, and yet… The way she twirled the end of her braid through her fingers in nerves. It was knotted and dirty, and some maternal instinct inside of you ached to wash and brush it for her. Grant her the chance to live like a happy little girl should.

You glanced to Curtis, and he must’ve caught the wistful uncertainty in your eyes, for he attempted to keep his smile from becoming downtrodden. He must’ve known it was a lot to ask of a stranger on a train platform who only expected to bring home a child. But he wouldn’t leave her side, and you both knew that. He tried to keep the sigh from his words, but he must’ve been too exhausted to keep it at bay. “‘Ow’s about two weeks, tops?”

Two weeks… Wasn’t that long. If it was too much for you, you’d be safe in knowing they’d be gone pretty quickly, and you could go back to solitary life with the animals. Perhaps it’d be worth a try.

You turned your attention to the smiling Esther once more, and it was like a dam broke. The instant swell of affection in your chest had you questioning why you ever doubted sharing your home with her, no matter the smallprint. You reached out to lay a careful hand atop her head, giving a ruffle of her stray hairs. You’d love to help her rebraid it properly.

A grin lit up on your face, an affirmative nod offered to Curtis. “Two weeks, tops.”

A dual sigh of relief from the pair of evacuees. Young arms flung themselves around your waist, and the tears that stung your sinuses were now on the opposite end of the scale. Sheer joy enveloped you just as Esther’s embrace did and you didn’t waste a moment before holding her snug in your arms, surprised by how natural it felt to rest your cheek on her head.

You laid your eyes on Curtis. That gaze, previously harsh, previously charming… It was now the truest it’d been so far. Nothing but softness and gratitude, his own exhaustion evident. You could see how the load on his shoulders had lightened, how caring for Esther on his own had been so hard for him. But now, he wouldn’t be alone either.

“Cheers, love. You’re a fucking star.”

#karl weissman #charles whiteman #bodies netflix #karl weissman x reader #charles whiteman x reader #karl weissman imagine #charles whiteman imagine #esther jankovsky #bodies 2023 #jacob fortune lloyd #written by archie

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archieimagines · 1 year

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thank you for being patient, lovelies!

work’s been tiring me out but i promise, i’m working on the next chishiya fic. from the way it’s going, it looks like it could be rather lengthy so it might have a wait time still— writing a game from scratch is HARD? who knew.

i’ve also been rewatching narcos in my downtime so if y’all think i forgot about pedro… how could i ever? </3

idk about you guys but i’m STOKED to see the last of us and when there’s more material and i have more time, you can bank on seeing some of that here. and mandalorian soon too? we’re spoiled. SPOILED.

and don’t even get me started on attack on titan announcement omg. slain.

january can be tough for all of us, so you better be taking extra care! make sure you stay warm and give your body and mind what it needs. lots of love <3

#archie #post #mwa

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archieimagines · 1 year

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Imagine being a regular at Karube’s bar.

this wasn’t even requested, i just. i just. let’s heal, friends. warnings: alcohol, arisu and chota being (beautiful) idiots, japanese terms, shy!reader. idk, he just seems so gentle and sweet even if he Does punch people in the face. you see it? written by: archie (ko-fi)

It was your favourite spot to come to.

The music was good, the drinks weren’t too expensive, the decor made for a homely but fun vibe. These were only half the reason you’d populate the bar every Thursday night, though.

It was that blond behind the counter.

Not a natural blond, of course, far from it. The bleach had done its best on his stubborn dark hair, pulling it kicking and screaming through shades until it reached a strawberry blond. His eyebrows were thick and dark, showcasing the stubbornness of his strands. He wore it so proudly, styled it the same way every time you saw it, and always shone that crooked smile at the sight of you. He was nothing short of stunning.

“Ah, Thursday-san,” he greeted when you stepped up to the bar, and an overwhelming wave of shyness swallowed you. “I was waiting for you.”

Still, you’d push through it to shine him a charmed smile, pink dusting on your cheeks. “Karube-san,” you’d greet with a nod, hands perched on the edge of the bar politely. “You were waiting? Were there not enough distractions today?”

He laughed aloud and glanced around to the mostly empty establishment - only a couple of people in booths and two giggling regulars at the bar. You recognised them as his friends, and he gestured to them. “Plenty of distraction. These two won’t get off my back.”

A bubble of cackles from his friends filled the air, and it was surprisingly contagious. You allowed yourself a quiet hum of amusement, and Karube noticed the light in your eyes.

They always seemed so dull, so sad until you came to the bar. Somewhere along the line, he’d grown addicted to catching your eyes smiling, and it was the only reason he never missed a Thursday shift, no matter how much it’d drag. It was always the quietest of days so he’d be the only one to work. Arisu and Chota would drop by in the evenings to make it go that little bit faster, but once all the chips were down, a Thursday shift was worth it to see you.

“Is it just you? What are we having tonight?” He shone, leaning on the counter. He was tall enough to tower over you, but was always sure never to intimidate you, especially with how skittish you seemed.

He watched the choices tick through your mind and was happy to be met with a “What do you recommend?”

He grinned. He could put his knowledge to use again. “Well, I can make you a little something. You have a sweet tooth, right?”

“Right,” you grinned back.

“And no vodka, no pineapple.”

“No vodka, no pineapple,” you agreed, face lit with glee.

Although a stranger, it was ridiculously rewarding to see you like this. And then he leant over the bar, voice low as if he had a secret just for you. “I’ll blow your mind.” He took the chance to deliver a wink, and with that, was reaching for glasses.

Your brows raised at his cheekiness, smile faltering now that his back was turned. Somehow, Karube was special. He was able to make you feel so cleanly at ease even without knowing the first thing about you outside of your drink choices, so tall and broad and yet so gentle in dealing with you. It made a nice change.

You tried to ignore the weight of eyes on you, but as the seconds wore on, you couldn’t resist the pull. You glanced over and met the eyes of his two friends, whose names you never quite caught. You made a mental note to gather the courage to ask, which was a task that seemed daunting before, but now, seeing their faces smiling at you like a pair of goons… And, what was that they were doing?

They pointed to Karube. They pointed to you. They mouthed something. Huh? Your brows tugged together, leaning in as if it might help you understand, your own lips shaping a question. What were they even…?

You picked one to focus on. The messy one. He was grinning too much to communicate well with lip reading, so he pointed once more and mouthed ‘KA-RU-BE!’

You glanced at the blond, his back to the customers. Glasses clinked, bottles poured, he moved expertly. It was surprisingly attractive, how he owned his space. The way he reached for things and stepped in a routine to reach them was almost a dance, almost entrancing… Tearing your gaze back to the pair was like fighting a magnet.

The grinning boys held up a thumb and finger, crossed at the ends. A pair of finger hearts.

The sight brought a rush of blood to your face, instantly flushing you pink. What were they even saying- were they outing you? Or him? What, he liked you? What-?

“Yatta!”

Just at that moment, Karube turned around with a glass half filled with orange juice and ice, another carton in his hand. “Here,” he grinned, opening the carton to pour red liquid over the orange, letting it settle on top into a two-toned drink. “This is what I call… Karube on the beach.”

“Isn’t that just a sex on the beach, Karube?” The untidy one pointed out, humour filling the air once more.

“No, Arisu, it’s a Karube! I changed it from vodka to-”

“If it’s a Karube on the beach, the orange should be at the top!” The shorter one sang aloud, and you couldn’t help the easy laugh that spilled out of you.

“Hey!” called Karube, one corner of his lips hiked up in disbelieving humour, “Don’t you laugh at that! You’re on my side, Thursday-san!”

#karube x reader #karube imagine #karube daikichi x reader #karube daikichi imagine #alice in borderland imagine #keita machida #keita machida x reader #keita machida imagine #alice in borderland #written by archie

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archieimagines · 1 year

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vaseline | kuina hikari

Summary: Kuina is more stressed about your chapped lips than the wounds from her death match.

gorgeous kuina. that’s all i have to say for myself. i’m weak. warnings: s2 spoilers, mentions of violence, elements of grief, blood and injury, smoking. a bit of angst, a bit of fluff, maybe a kiss. word count: 1302 requested by: anon (this is the reuniting with kuina/chishiya request. i’ll be writing a chishiya one separately!) written by: archie support me on ko-fi!

The sounds of battle rang through the centre. Cries of anguish, the clatter of metal, screams of the dying. Even just listening wasn’t easy.

You sat against the wall of the sports centre’s atrium, knees parted to rest your elbows on. You’d intended to be in the dojo to search for Kuina but… Well, after hearing it, you couldn’t help being glad you’d missed registration.

You were split from your girlfriend on the run from that damn King of Spades, and after so many days of searching for her, you were struggling to resist your harrowing thoughts. That the King was too good, that she was amongst the litter of bodies on Shibuya’s streets.

But, you’d reason, she’s too tough for that. She’d been through too much, fought for too much. Her own struggles, her mothers’, the things society would hold against her... No, Kuina wouldn’t be wiped out by some nameless, faceless entity. She was far too strong. To worry about her like that was an insult.

So, you searched, game after game. Asked survivors if they’d seen a tall, beautiful girl with dreads, a blue bikini-- they’d only ever shook their head, half of them with pity in their eyes. So many people had lost their loved ones to this land, and they saw you as just another of the bunch.

They didn’t realise how stubborn you were, nor how powerful Kuina could really be. If anyone were to be left standing after all this, it’d be her, a beacon amongst the dust and smoke. Your beautiful Hikari.

Hell, you missed that face. Somewhere in your search, you’d vowed to carry a physical picture of her in your wallet once you got back home together. But until then, you’d have to close your eyes and remember, as you’d done every time the search got hard.

The way her brows would pull together playfully when you teased her, the way her eyes would scrunch and she’d slap your arm or shoulder as she burst into laughter. The way her whole face would light up when you let her dress you at the boutique, and then that smile when you’d buy it all. God, that smile. You needed to see it again.

After searching game on game, you finally found an ounce of hope.

The Jack of Spades. Yes, her kind of game. You’d hunted out this game specifically just to see if she may be at the registration, and when you saw its setting, your spark of hope burned brighter than ever.

A dojo.

Surely, a dojo game would be the place to find her. Surely, she was behind those doors, kicking everyone within an inch of their life. You strained to hear any scream of effort, any curse that carried her tone of voice, but there were too many to focus on. If she was in there, she was drowned out amongst the masses.

You bit at your lip. The whole place was dark, barely a peek of light from the dojo door. Was it a blind game? Were her ears astute enough to carry her through martial arts blindly? Was she even in there?

The taste of iron seeped into your mouth. Fuck, you’d been chewing your lip too much. If she’d come out of that dojo and see you bleeding, she wouldn’t hesitate to scold you, and the thought brought a bittersweet smile to your chapped lip. You’d give anything for her to come out and scold you, to feel her dainty fingers rub vaseline on your skin like she always did, cigarette hanging from her own mouth. “Look after yourself,” she’d whine around the stick, “No lover of mine can have bad lips.”

Oh, the amount of times you’d plucked the cigarette from between her teeth. “What about this, then?”

“Hey, bad lungs are only on the inside,” she’d give an almost annoyed laugh and take it back. “And smoking looks cool on the outside.”

You chuckled to yourself in the darkness. It was a foreign sound in this land, even to your own ears. The kind of sound that only she could bring out of you.

She had to come through those doors. She had to.

Minutes ticked by, soon reaching almost an hour, and finally the violence from behind the door started dying down. Less screams and less sounds of impact - whoever was left was growing tired.

You squeezed your eyes shut and hoped against hope that she’d be out soon. That she’d come through that door with those bright eyes and pull a face at the state of you.

Shhhhk.

The door slid open.

A few pairs of footsteps trod the floorboards, barely visible until the blimp outside caught fire.

It lit up the air with its orange firelight, the smell of fumes and oil dropping from the skies, seeping in through the windows. It lit the trio that battled the length of hallway, falling forwards on heavy feet, one after the other.

And a pair of those feet clad in platform flip-flops.

The fire lit the side of her face, battered and bruised.

You shot up to your feet, mouth running faster than your mind. All you knew was that you needed her eyes on you. “Kuina!”

And they found you.

Her whole existence changed. Where she was before so visibly exhausted and hunched, aching and bleeding, her eyes lit up and a smile hitched the corners of her lips. She pushed past her fellow survivors and hobbled up the corridor as fast as she possibly could, though she couldn’t possibly match your sprint in her current condition.

You flung yourself at her, arms thrown around her waist as she clung to you, willing the tears not to fall from your eyes, “Fuck, I thought-”

“You thought I was dead?” She held tighter, a disbelieving, laboured splutter of humour parting her lips. “I’m not easy to kill, you know.”

“Not for a moment,” you pulled back with a shake of your head, unable to stop the trickle of a tear that fell from your eye as you held her face, cuts and bruises in abundance. “I didn’t think that for a moment.”

The fellow survivors passed without a word, and she took this time to look over your own face. She was so relieved to see you, her eyes so gentle and pretty-- and then, there it was. That little furrow of her brow, the quiet hint of irritation. “You’ve been biting your lips again, huh?”

A bubble of emotional laughter burst in your chest, raising a hand to wipe over your lip. It must’ve been only a spot of blood, but of course, she’d notice it. “I’ve been stressed without you.”

“What kind of excuse is that?” Her face lightened, gently taking yours in her hands. Those delicate thumbs ran over your lips, wiping away that minuscule drop of crimson before bringing you into a soft, indulgent kiss. She simply took a moment to share your breath with that closeness, live with you once more as if you were her cigarette.

You kept her close even once it’d drawn to a close. Fingers rubbing gently over the bare skin of her waist, careful to not hurt her, but you’re so aware of the slight raises on her skin, the trail of blood that your fingers slip on.

You give a soft sigh. It hurts your chest physically to see her like this, a gnawing ache that you just had to fix. “I saw a bathroom back there. Let’s get you patched up, darling.”

“Wait-!” Her eyes grew as she reached behind her, patting at her back pocket as if to check something. Then with a relieved breath, she nodded, her smile bright. “I didn’t drop my vaseline. I knew you’d need it.”

#kuina x reader #kuina imagine #kuina hikari x reader #kuina hikari imagine #alice in borderland imagine #kuina #kuina hikari #asahina aya x reader #asahina aya imagine #asahina aya #alice in borderland #written by archie #aib s2 spoilers

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archieimagines · 1 year

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hi, lovelies!

so, i finally set one up. but i’d like to make clear that this is in no way obligatory!

my writing is free and accessible to all and will stay that way <3

this is simply to open up the possibility of stopping overtime work hours so that i can work on delivering more stories from my fantasy-filled brain to your fantasy-hungry ones.

that said, helping me out does come with a perk: even if requests are closed, you can donate and i’ll get right on whatever you’d like me to work on! whether that’s a specific idea or you just have a preference for character or fandom, as long as it’s one i write for, you can consider it done and dusted.

i’d also like to clarify that this is only for one writer, archie. other ko-fi links may follow for my fellow writers!

#announcement #chishiya x reader #chishiya imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #new year new hustle #sorry for clogging the tags #ily

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archieimagines · 1 year

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thank you so much for all your amazing support on this piece! i’ve read every comment and reblog tag almost 20 times over (no lie) and i’ve slurped up every ounce of serotonin you’ve given me.

i’m so thrilled and proud that i’ve managed to give the suprisingly vocal chishiya stans something entertaining and true to character, all while enjoying the process like crazy.

you’ve inspired me deliciously so i wanted to let you know i’m now considering writing a short series around this relationship, with just a handful of chapters for key scenes. though, work starts up again pretty soon and i still have a bunch of other requests that i actively want to finish so it may be a little slow going, but i’m actually super excited about it! if you’d like to be tagged, let me know.

once again, thank you so much! you’re my favourites <3

antidote | chishiya shuntaro

Summary: A doctor is a lifeline. In the Jack of Hearts game, Chishiya strives to be yours.

yeah, i took the physician reveal and ran with it. i tried to get into his head to portray him as well as i could in writing this and accidentally fell head over heels. let me know if i did him justice? warnings: large helpings of anxiety, chishiya-esque emotional manipulation, though affectionate. mentions of sex, fwb setup, my attempt at sounding medically educated. word count: 2741 requested by: anon (thank you so much for this brilliant idea, i loved getting stuck into it. i don’t write smut, but i hope this still gets you a little riled.) written by: archie

It’s human nature to fuck up. He should’ve known to expect it from you.

It was beginning to wear him down, your constant knee bouncing and nail biting since the third hour of this game. All he needed to do was watch. He was wildly curious to see how this would all play out, and he knew he was safe. Knew you were safe.

All things considered, it was a low-risk game: only trust was required, and he’d scored that easily by taking you under his wing. However, The idea of the Jack of Hearts was a poison injected into the bloodstream of the prison’s population. The symptoms of distrust and paranoia would migrate through the ranks, and the masses would spiral and die.

It was a simple game. The key was to not let your protector get infected.

But the symptoms were visibly taking a hold of you. The cafeteria table shook with your anxious tics, the water in your bottle sloshing enough to disrupt his attention on the surrounding cafeteria. He wouldn’t complain though. You weren’t annoying, no, but you could soon put him on edge if he let you spiral like this, and then he’d be infected too.

“Chishiya,” you called softly, clearly nervous to disrupt his spectating.

He didn’t tear his eyes from the scheming girl in the dress. She was particularly interesting in this setting; and by his deductions, not likely to be the Jack. “Hm?”

Your voice came meeker than normal. “What’s my suit again?”

He turned slowly, a brow quirked over a relaxed eye as he finally gave you his attention. “You forgot?”

“No. Just tell me.”

He sighed silently through his nose, calculating your thoughts. To ask this after he’d told you twice already, you must’ve been anxious about one of two things. One, that your addled mind would fool you into speaking the wrong suit. Or two, that you couldn’t trust him.

“Heart,” was all he said.

And you nodded. Your eyes hardened, clearly visualising the shape before your eyes. ‘Heart,’ he could practically see your mind reciting. ‘Heart.’

Or… Was that a calculating look? He flexed his jaw. Were you possibly tallying up the likelihood that he’d lied to you?

Keep reading

#series #chishiya x reader #chishiya shuntaro x reader #aib x reader #chishiya imagine

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archieimagines · 1 year

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antidote | chishiya shuntaro

Summary: A doctor is a lifeline. In the Jack of Hearts game, Chishiya strives to be yours.

It’s human nature to fuck up. He should’ve known to expect it from you.

It was a simple game. The key was to not let your protector get infected.

“Chishiya,” you called softly, clearly nervous to disrupt his spectating.

He didn’t tear his eyes from the scheming girl in the dress. She was particularly interesting in this setting; and by his deductions, not likely to be the Jack. “Hm?”

Your voice came meeker than normal. “What’s my suit again?”

He turned slowly, a brow quirked over a relaxed eye as he finally gave you his attention. “You forgot?”

“No. Just tell me.”

“Heart,” was all he said.

And you nodded. Your eyes hardened, clearly visualising the shape before your eyes. ‘Heart,’ he could practically see your mind reciting. ‘Heart.’

Or… Was that a calculating look? He flexed his jaw. Were you possibly tallying up the likelihood that he’d lied to you?

He focused on the accidental downturn of his lips. He shouldn’t be double reading you like that - his own intuition was the only concrete thing he had. He’d never been wrong before. He’d kept the both of you alive for this long based on his skill alone, and he’d not let your lives slip away in a measly Jack’s game.

With a slow blink, he made the conscious choice not to chip away at his own trust in himself, as was undeniably the Jack’s aim in this game.

Chishiya’s gaze lowered to where your fingertips danced on the tabletop. A heart shape. Over and over. Frantic, disturbed. You were slipping.

Against his better judgement, he reached out a hand to clasp over your fingers, quietly amused when those sweet, round eyes fixed on his face. You were so scared, so anxious, and the part inside of him that felt for you lit a soft smile on his lips.

You’d never been good at heart games with that anxious disposition, but that was why he’d kept you by his side. You were an easy window into the minds of his surroundings with how easily he could read you. Your distress on the outside showed blatantly the fear of the people in this game. Everyone under the roof would be feeling it. Even the Jack… Especially the Jack.

Chishiya had found you early on in the games-- only the two of you had survived the Six of Hearts. You were entirely integral to his methods of survival that day, so he stole you away to the Beach and was sure to never let you have a game without him. Losing you as the key to his readings would surely damn him someday. Yet somewhere along the line, he grew… fond.

It must’ve been your consistent proximity, he’d reasoned at first. How your constant being around became a sense of ‘normal’ for both he and Kuina, how your raw, unapologetic humanity was a refreshing shift in his life, how you were a brilliant vessel in the games.

He’d protect you, and you’d provide him the opposite perspective as the control in his readings where everyone else was the variable. The perfect symbiotic relationship in this land.

And perhaps that may have been the case. Perhaps that was the foundation for which he felt appreciative of you, the foundation for a so-called friendship. But it didn’t explain how you’d developed into more for him.

His hold on your fingers tightened, gaze fixed on them as he recalled how they’d thread through his hair, night after night. How they’d unzip his hoodie at the Beach. How they’d scramble to tug the sheets over your naked body when a militant barged through the unlockable door to call him into an executive meeting. He couldn’t help the huff of amusement at the thought. Your eyes were as sweet and panicked then as they were now.

But it wasn’t the same. There, you had the safety of the blankets in his room. A sanctuary. Here, you must’ve felt so exposed to the Jack’s poison. Knee bouncing beneath the table and water bottle gripped tight in one hand, what he could swear was a thin sheen of sweat over your skin. You were really losing your nerve, and he needed to be your antidote.

“Follow me,” he murmured, his interest in the room’s population dissipated. With a gentle nod in a moment of reassurance, he let go of your fingers to let you take up your bottle of water and led you from the cafeteria.

His hands burrowed into his pockets as he walked. He took his slow time, sure to register his surroundings in his peripherals even as he gazed straight ahead, effortless as ever.

Your distinct footsteps followed close behind, audibly unsure and glancing around to the others as you tagged along. He knew you had no clue yet. You were playing it blind and suffering for it.

He took you aside into one of the prison’s meeting rooms where once upon a time, a board of directors would’ve gathered. They’d have administered handfuls of men’s fates, and they’d have considered them less than rats. Now this was where Chishiya would administer your own fate, purely because he held you dear.

He opened a palm to gesture to the end of the table. “Take a seat,” he spoke, ever relaxed, and watched you hop up onto the end of the table. It was rickety, chairs kicked and strewn about, the room only lit by the game-master’s searchlights that shone into the windows.

You looked far from comfortable perched up there, the glare lighting half of your face, and he found himself silent. He just looked at you for a moment. How beautiful you were.

He’d noticed many times, of course. The flutter of your lashes as you looked over his features in a fruitless attempt to read his face. Your parted lips channelling the oxygen that fuelled your body, though your lungs delivered it all shaky and uneven. You were stunning to him, even in the worst of times. Even when you were drenched in the crimson of lives you outlived.

But… There was something in this moment. Something about how right now, he was your lifeline. He held that beautiful existence in his hands and this time, he had the power to choose his method of helping. No supervisors to end your life with a swift letter, no list of priority to bump you down. Or at least, you were the priority.

“What is it?” You jerked him from his thoughts, your ankle bouncing once more where it swung below the table. “Chishiya?”

He gifted you a smile, but it didn’t soothe you.

Your eyes narrowed instead. “What are you hiding from me?”

A soft hum of laughter as he took slow, deliberate steps closer until he stood directly before you. A pinkness on your neck caught his eye and his head tipped in curiosity. He reached to slip a finger into your collar, lips pursed in question as he felt the irritated heat of your skin underneath. “Mm? Do you have a latex allergy?”

“Lat-? No.”

He pulled gently on the band at your neck, stepping even closer to peer at the line of irritation from the garment. It wasn’t until he finally removed his hold that he noted the moisture on his finger-- your sweat. The salt must have caught in the material and rubbed you raw, leading to irritation and the slightest blood spots beneath your skin.

“You’ve been pulling at the collar.”

“It’s tighter than when we started.”

Chishiya knew that wasn’t true. His was perfectly fine - comfortable, even - but he didn’t give a thought to argue. Your stress was having physical implications, making everything even worse for you. Anxiety really is a bitch, he mused.

“Water.” He held a hand out to the bottle and you placed it in his palm. His eyes fixed on yours as he opened it up-- and only at this point did he realise quite how close he was.

Your knees put a comfortable, familiar pressure on either side of his hips, his face uncommonly close to yours without the presence of a bed, but he had no intention of moving. He just took the space and owned it, relishing in the slightest hue of red that dusted your cheek, sure to notice it deepen as he raised your chin between his finger and thumb, guiding you to lift your face.

“This will be cold,” was all the warning he gave before trickling the water down your neck.

You hissed and jerked back, likely from the cold or the sting of the freshwater on your salted wounds. “Shit, Chishiya.”

He simply chuckled inwardly, lips hitched in a humoured smirk as he rinsed your skin. He let the little stream of water run across your throat, taking his time to work towards your other ear. His touch on your chin remained delicate as a doctor’s touch, directing you to look the other way for his ease.

This intimacy, he pondered. So rare in the home world. It was one thing to be a physician in a hospital, and another to use basic, opportunistic materials to heal someone who depended on him so wholly. A patient may fight to survive on their own accord, but here, in this game, with you… Everything rode on his word, on his actions. Everything.

A strange magnetism in his chest drew him ever closer to your skin, until his lips soon met the human warmth beneath your ear. It was a slow kiss, tender and deliberate, and he relished in how your body naturally leant into his.

His closed eyes let him hone on the quickened beat of your pulse, the ghost of a thrum against his lips. Your blood pumped the cortisol of your anxiety through the roof, and he remembered his mission to bring it back down, to calm you. He clung to this as a reason to retract from you. If this reaction was from his unsolicited affection, he should know better than to drive your adrenaline too high.

“Don’t touch it anymore,” he prescribed, voice level and cool, giving no hint as to how hard it was to lean back from you. “The irritation will lessen and you can focus more.”

“I don’t know what the hell I’m focusing on,” you spat in a whisper, uncommonly callous with your words despite the pink to your cheeks as you watched him close the bottle cap once more. He’d seen you panic before in many a heart’s game, but not like this, not after his sparing affection. This game really was frying your nerves.

“Focus on keeping your head,” he murmured, the slightest snort slipping out after. “In every sense of the word.”

“Shut the fuck up, Chishiya.”

It was endlessly amusing to see you like this. The fire that came from your lips right now had never been rivalled before, and any regret he’d had at choosing a Heart’s game for you quickly dissipated. Fascinating to see you lose your mind.

But, he couldn’t toy with you too far. He allowed you to hear his chuckle, low and rumbling in his chest, only audible with the proximity he kept. “Sincerely. Focus on staying calm. All you need to do is trust me.”

“Not so easy in a place like this.”

He took the chance to look surprised. This was his opening to seal any of his own concerns about you. “You think I’d feed you the wrong suit?”

He paid careful attention to how you hesitated, watching the thoughts dance their patterns behind your eyes. You were looking at him without seeing him, close enough that he could see his reflection in your irises. Calculations, calculations, ones that you so visibly struggled to work out. Would he dare tell you the wrong suit? Would it be out of choice or pre-emptive, lest you try to end him first, purely because you’d worried?

Moments passed, and the longer it went on, the more his worries tugged at his thoughts. He needed to prove himself to you to save his own skin. Both of your skins.

His hands settled lightly on your lower thighs, set snug on either side of his hips, and he gave a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t need to worry,” he murmured, voice low and soothing as butter on a wound, “We’ll survive this together.”

That endearing little tug between your brows encouraged him on, and he couldn’t help but take your chin in his hold again. To hold that sweet face, so trusting, so impressionable. He watched the hope shine in your features before turning your face the slightest degree, exposing your ear once more, to which he leant in. His breath just tickled your lobe as his nose nudged on your shell, words slow and deliberate. “I know who the Jack is.”

The change in your body language was instant. You jumped back to peer at his face, brows high and eyes wide, no longer slouched and dejected. Your hand gripped at his white jacket, fisted into the fabric to keep him close as you murmured, “Really?”

A slow nod. Relaxed eyes and knowing smirk shone in the searchlight, and he planned his next words carefully. He didn’t want you to know who his suspects were, in case you gave anything away and steered the game from its natural course. “I have two suspects, it’s just down to seeing which fails first.”

The elation in his chest at seeing your relief was disorienting. The way you sighed out with almost a laugh, head thrown back to let it escape you… It was an image he wouldn’t forget for a long time. The serenity of his antidote, saving you from the Jack’s poison.

His brows shot up as you snatched his shoulders into a tight, relieved hold, thighs tight on his waist and arms looped around his neck. Your face pressed into the junction of his shoulder, nestled against his hair. “Thank fuck,” you breathed, edging on tears. “You worked it out? I should’ve known. I should’ve!”

He didn’t say anything, only astounded that you might be so liberal in your affections outside his hotel room. But then, he did bridge that gap first. And there were no regrets. He allowed himself to indulge in it, his own arms finding their home around your waist and his nose in your hair. Of course it was a trick of psychological conditioning, but if he focused just right, he could almost smell the residue of chlorine from the days at the Beach.

He indulged in splaying a hand across your back, rubbing soothing circles over your form. This body… He knew the ins and outs of it. He knew where every mole dotted your skin, he could estimate the length of your lower ribs without flaw. His thumb pressed slow pulses in the flesh between the back of your ribs, imagining that he’d place his stethoscope there.

What a sound he’d hear. Each breath, the source of your survival.

Would it be too arrogant to consider himself such a thing too?

#chishiya x reader #chishiya imagine #shuntaro chishiya x reader #chishiya shuntaro x reader #nijiro murakami x reader #nijiro murakami imagine #alice in borderland imagine #alice in borderland headcanon #aib #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #nijiro murakami #written by archie

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archieimagines · 1 year

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GOSH i’m writing for chishiya right now and i just love him so much i didn’t even realise i was down this bad. oml what has this boy done to me

i wanna buy him olaplex tho

#chishiya x reader #bloody hell

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archieimagines · 1 year

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when they make you laugh | aib

How they react when they make you laugh for the first time since arriving in Borderland.

Chishiya, Ann, Kuina and Niragi.

i really really love writing for aib, and i really really want to marry ann. warnings: this is mostly fluff but jealousy and threats are included (would it even be niragi if this wasn’t the case?) requested by: anon (thank you!) written by: archie support me on ko-fi!

Chishiya

Chishiya would be puzzled. Hearing your laugh ring through the Beach’s hallway from beside him when hardly much had happened-- What suddenly brought that out of you? You, who hadn’t so much as smirked once since arriving in the Borderlands?

He wouldn’t stop walking until you’d finally keeled over, resting against the wall in your laughter, and he’d simply stand there and watch you, tempted to give into the smirk that pulls at the corner of his lips. Ah yes, that laugh is contagious, but it’d only properly catch on when he realises it’s his own words that brought it out of you.

Gasping words out through your bursts of laughter, not paying half a mind to the bikini-clad girls that spared you judgemental glances as you try to communicate what exactly of Chishiya’s words tickled you so-- But it’d barely come out clear enough to make sense.

But it wouldn’t matter. He’d finally give into the tickle inside his own chest, the softest laugh of humour bubbling out as he stands there, hands in his pockets and tender eyes on your giggling form. It’s the first time since arriving that he’s seen you like this, and what a sight to behold.

Ann

Ann isn’t phased by much, but your sudden laughter gracing her ears would startle her. She’d jump, hair swishing out of that perfect positioning when she turns to look at you. She’d think there’s something wrong at first, scan the area to see what might’ve possibly brought you to this, wonder if perhaps Borderland has finally taken its toll on you. She’s heard plenty of stories of psychosis manifesting in laughter from her work life, but this… Doesn’t seem to be the case.

She’d ask what was up, ask if you’re feeling okay, hold your face still to feel your forehead for a temperature. This, however, would only bring out more bubbling laughter as you tuck her hair behind her ear again, back where it belongs.

“You’re so funny, Ann,” you’d say, “And you don’t even realise.”

She’d blink. No, she’s never been considered the funny type.

It’s not until you describe to her that it’s purely because she’s so serious, so endearing, that you couldn’t help yourself. Perhaps things really were catching up to you, and you finally let up on all the pressures from the games. Hell, you were gonna die anyway. Why not share laughter when your love is this morbidly endearing in her antics?

Kuina

Kuina would have missed your laughter. She’d struggle with your newly introverted self, noticing how all the games have worn you down in the weeks of being here, and it’s not until one time that you get a little bit too drunk a little bit too quickly in the Beach’s nightclub that you’d finally be able to spill your sense of humour all over her again.

It would be the silliest of things; Kuina’s reaction to a guy hitting on her or an animated fall on the dancefloor that you’d just so happened to witness, but it would shock your body with waves and waves of giggles.

Kuina’s reaction would be instant. Her face would light up, teeth showing and eyes shining as she drank in the sight of you losing control of your body, weak at the knees and relying on Kuina’s arm around your middle to keep you up. Soon, the pair of you would be creasing with tears in your eyes, and she’s definitely the type that lightly hits whoever happens to be in her reach as she cackles. Afterwards, the air around you would be drastically lighter. She’d be thrilled to have you back.

Niragi

Niragi would be suspicious of your laughter. He’d stare at you with a brow and corner of his lips raised, practically with a question mark over his head as he eyes you. He’d demand to know what’s so funny, what’s suddenly happened to you-- but on hearing that he’d just said something in such a way that struck you funny, he’d guffaw in dismissal. Though, hidden inside, his chest would swell with pride and a curl would remain on his lips for a long while after, throwing out certain remarks to try and catch you in a giggle fit once more. Every time it works, a strange glow of acceptance would find a home in his chest.

If, god forbid, anyone else had been the first to make you laugh, he’d want their head on a plate. And you know he’d have it, too, unless it were Chishiya. Perhaps Chishiya’s eyeroll to something Niragi had said would set you off, or even worse, something he’d said-- Niragi would lose his shit. He’d yell at you once the moment had passed, having let it brew for moments before. How dare you humiliate him? Unite with Chishiya against him? Of course, that wouldn’t be even a sliver of truth, and you’d have to talk him down from hunting Chishiya in the Beach’s halls.

You’d manage a soft laugh for him, holding his face to keep his attention and stop his spiralling. “Niragi,” you’d shine a smile, knowing exactly how to calm him. “He’s pitiful, and I’m yours.”

#chishiya x reader #niragi x reader #ann x reader #kuina x reader #chishiya imagine #niragi imagine #ann imagine #kuina imagine #alice in borderland imagine #alice in borderland headcanon #alice in borderland preference #niragi suguru x reader #ann rizuna x reader #kuina hikari x reader #rizuna ann x reader #aib imagine #aib headcanon #aib preference #written by archie

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archieimagines · 1 year

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alice in borderland requests now closed!

thank you so much for your gazillions of requests, i now have plenty to be getting on with while i procrastinate watching the last episode because i just don’t want it to be over </3

stay tuned for an abundance of niragi (niragi stans,, y’all ok out there? yeah me neither), chishiya and arisu with a little sprinkling of the others!

lots of love!

♠️♥️♣️♦️

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archieimagines · 1 year

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Hi! Do you write for Enji Matsushita(aka jack of hearts)? I really like him since I read the manga but when the season came out no one seems to write for him :(

hi lovely!

i haven’t actually read the manga, and honestly i don’t think he had enough screen time in the show to establish his character properly </3 however, just for you i’ll try and work on something short and sweet for him!

anything longer might be a stretch because keeping people in character is super important to me, but i don’t see why i couldn’t whip up a tiny something. stay tuned, sweetest! 💕

#anon

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archieimagines · 1 year

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Imagine finding Niragi after the Beach.

first time writing aib! i haven't written in a while so i was definitely a little rusty, but i'll have more free time from now on so ideally the next ones will be better! warnings: niragi. a drastically unhealthy relationship (of course), niragi slander, burn injuries and gore, guns, problematic grief, mentions of massacre. if you have any triggers i doubt you'd want to even look at this man, apologies. requested by: @nonsocosamett3r3. can't tag, but i hope you see this! for now, aib requests are open! written by: archie support me on ko-fi!

The store was quiet, only tainted by the sound of lit gas heating your ramen and the quiet bubbling of the soup.

Your eyes fixed on the flame like it was magnetic. After the horrors of the Beach, something just drew you to it. That little flame…

Amazing.

Amazing how something so small could grow so big that it would engulf the whole resort. The whole community. Your whole future, and who you'd planned to spend it with.

You’d loved Suguru for so long, even before you’d arrived in this world. You’d vowed to love him as long as you were alive, but that was before he’d given into his brewing internal sickness.

It hurt too hard to think it. It utterly carved your heart to think that his only relief from himself might take fire and flames. The only way to be kind to him would be to let him die, and finally, it came. He was better off dead, and yet... you couldn’t help aching for him.

He was the one person you’d come into this with. The one person you knew you could trust. Even when he was at his worst.

You shook your head. It wouldn’t do to dwell on how he’d protected you from the witch trial. How he’d given you a pistol and told you to hide on the roof. “Wait for me up there,” he’d said, a firm hand on your back to nudge you towards the stairs, his spare pistol pressed into your palms. “Anyone aims at you and they’re dead.”

Even at his worst, his most unhinged, he still took care of you. He was never all ba-

No. Thinking like this would only make it harder. You needed to focus on how he was a murderer, how he was manic, how he embodied all of humanity’s darkest traits. Perhaps then, you could function in this world without him.

A sigh. The cooker’s flame danced before you, and all you could see in your mind was Niragi. How the fire clung to him. How he screamed and thrashed—

You shut the gas off.

No, you couldn’t look at it. The flame.

The spices in the ramen no longer smelled good; they churned your stomach and the burn of suppressed tears sat in your sinuses. Your head dropped into your hands, the heels of your palms pressed to your eyes. You wouldn’t cry over him. He was a murderer. A sadistic, psychopathic, narcissistic—

A clatter behind you.

“Auh, phuck.”

Panic pushed you to your feet, your breath hitched. You’d perched in the homewares aisle with your campfire cooker, and wherever that distorted voice came from was barely two aisles back.

It was so dark, you were so tired, and so many people hated you. Not even through any fault of your own. You didn’t choose to love the most hated man at the Beach. You were an easy target and anyone who recognised you surely wouldn’t hesitate, so you grabbed for the pistol from your belt and readied yourself for an assault. You’d not die at the hands of an angry Beach resident tonight.

Slow footsteps took you through the store, startled every time you heard a grunt or a clash. Someone was rummaging through the shelves and audibly struggling.

The smash of a glass bottle on the floor, then a strained voice. “Phuckin ‘ell.”

You neared the corner of the aisle and peered around, pistol held out before you. You only hoped they couldn’t hear the trembling rattle of your hold on it.

What you saw was inconclusive. Someone with a flashlight held in their mouth, pointed at shelves full of medical wares. They struggled with gathering supplies, knocking them over instead and hissing in pain, but you couldn’t gather a single feature.

This was your chance to strike a new alliance. They were clearly wounded and in no fighting condition, so you could easily best them if you needed to, but… Would it really be worth it to make a connection with someone that may surely hold back your chances in a game?

You had half a mind to turn away, leave them to their own struggling devices-

But the choice was taken. A loud groan and the flashlight dropped from the person’s mouth, clattered to the floor, and rolled a few inches.

The stream of light pointed directly to your shoe and lit up the tip of your weapon.

You might’ve expected the person to be startled with the realisation that they weren’t alone, to stumble back or at least gasp. But instead, you were met with an audible sneer.

“Ah. Gonna kill me?”

The end of your pistol still pointed into the darkness, though you could just barely see the silhouette of your target. And oh, you quivered. Your aim was as fractured as your heart, and you’d never held anyone in place with your aim before. It was clear to see.

A familiar snort. “You couldn’t hit me if you tried.”

Your brows tugged together. Your voice had left you entirely, chest heaving with the growing panic at how this tall figure found no sense of danger in you. And yet, that voice was so…

“S-Suguru?”

“Oh?” A beat of silence, and then a soft, sore laugh. “I taught you better than to tremble, baby.”

You almost dropped the pistol. It couldn’t be. You’d seen him fall off the roof shrouded in flame, and it’d been long days. Death was the only escape for him, and he needed it. But here he was, and you couldn’t help but hope it was true.

You dove for that flashlight to check that your wants hadn’t deceived you and scooped it up to point directly at Niragi to take him in in all his… misery.

Your heart broke. The sound of it was a distraught gasp, instant tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “Suguru…”

His gorgeous skin was rippled with the fusion of the fire. His hair ragged and burnt, chest and arms crimson, raw and leaking with infectious fluids.

His face scrunched with immediate hatred, his voice a pained hiss as he turned away. “Don’t. Don’t you fucking pity me.”

“I’m not-“

“Don’t.”

Ah, this was your Suguru. Blunt and dismissive, hostile even to you, but you knew how to handle him. You didn’t let him see dizzying wave of relief that drowned you, you held back those tears. Even if he was the most hated man in this realm, he was yours. You weren’t alone in this world anymore.

You took a brief moment to breathe and let your head calm before stepping in close, light shining on his arms. The skin had melted, black patches of fabric stuck into his skin, all the way up to his bare torso. But he didn’t like you looking.

He snatched away the light and the next thing you knew, you were blinded. Your eyes squinted against it, blinking, brows tugged together as you tried to seek out his face once more against the light.

A delicate hand to your cheek, a soft sigh. That was the sound of lazy Sunday mornings with him, the sound he’d always made with his nose buried into your hair.

You let your eyes close, transporting back to simpler times with his touch. His thumb ran so gently across your cheekbone and for the briefest moment you could pretend things were normal, that he was just your boyfriend back in Tokyo. Your beautiful, troubled, bespectacled boyfriend.

If only he didn’t smell of ash and molten flesh, you could have convinced yourself that nothing had changed.

His touch dropped away, the light directed away and your eyelids fluttered open once more. His gaze was so soft on yours. How could this boy with beautiful doe eyes ever hurt another? Perhaps… Just perhaps, he’d learned his lesson. He didn’t deserve this life.

“Let me see,” you murmured, carefully taking the flashlight from his hold. He was like a lost child as he watched you inspect his chest, so gentle as you opened his shirt to see the scarring. You couldn’t help the grimace as you peeled some of the sticky fabric from yellowed, skinless flesh, but he didn’t even wince. He just watched you quietly, intimately.

You met that gaze, and the butterflies in your chest were dizzying. “I’ll dress it for you. Okay?”

A grunt of agreement.

#alice in borderland imagine #niragi imagine #niragi x reader #niragi suguru x reader #niragi suguru imagine #aib niragi #aib #aib niragi x reader #aib niragi imagine #alice in borderland #niragi #niragi suguru #dori sakurada x reader #dori sakurada imagine #dori sakurada #written by archie

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archieimagines · 1 year

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alice in borderland requests open!

i want to write for aib but have no idea where to start or who with, so i’ll be accepting a couple of requests exclusively for aib!

i won’t be posting any spoilers for season 2 for a while so please keep the requests to characters that were in season 1 for now. s2 characters may come later! looking at you, kyuma ♣️

send something in and i’ll love you forever <3

available characters:

arisu, karube and chota

chishiya and gorgeous kuina

anne (owns me)

niragi

i could be convinced of aguni, hatter and usagi

game: start!

#ryohei arisu x reader #chishiya x reader #kuina x reader #niragi suguru x reader #aib anne x reader #karube x reader #alice in borderland imagine #requests open #aib arisu x reader

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archieimagines · 1 year

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alice in borderland?

it’s definitely one of my favourite shows and with its return coming soon, i’m considering opening requests for it since i’ll likely have the itch to write about it! (rewatched season 1 and already have that itch oops)

any fans of our arisu and enemies friends?

edit: requests for aib are now open closed! thank you so much for your requests!

#alice in borderland imagine #ryohei arisu x reader #niragi suguru x reader #chishiya x reader #dori sakurada x reader #kento yamazaki x reader

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archieimagines · 1 year

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Imagine Din Djarin comforting you about your mother.

finally, here we are with a new piece! thanks for your patience, loves! it may be slow going for the holiday period, but bear with us <3 warnings: grief, mother problems, terminal illness and angst. requested by: anon written by: jesse

Din Djarin couldn’t help but notice how you’d been acting as of late. It was as if, one night, someone switched you with an entirely different person—a stranger in his eyes.

There were days when you wouldn’t speak to him, hide away in your area of the ship or even stay on the ship entirely during jobs.

The bounty hunter had wondered if he had done something to offend or hurt you in any way. Perhaps he was away too often? Was he neglecting you?

The thought of hurting someone he cared about in any way bothered him. He only had his clan in the past, and now he had formed his own clan with you.

He flexed his fingers nervously, wondering if that was going to change.

The Mandalorian made his way to the top of the Razor Crest; you had chosen to stay back on the ship on this mission too, as you had done for a couple of weeks.

Grogu greeted him at the entrance, cooing and making grabby hands to reach out for his surrogate father. Of course, Din obliged the request and held his place in the crook of his elbow.

“How was your day, kid? Didn’t get into trouble, did you?” He asked, a hint of a smile behind his helmet. Of course, he wasn’t going to get a response other than babble, but he humoured the little guy.

Grogu smiled and chewed on the knob that Din had let him have on his first adventure. Din held him a moment before setting him back down, causing the toddler to whine in protest.

“Sorry, little guy. There’s something I need to take care of.” He assured, going to search for you. He needed to settle this.

He went for the bunk the two of you shared and spotted you in bed with your back toward him. You were curled up in a fetal position with your knees tucked close to your chin.

“You awake?” He asked, his tone calm as he sat down on the edge of the bed, but he didn’t receive a response and called your name a bit more firmly this time.

“I am,” you sighed, craning your neck to look at him. “What is it?”

“I think we need to talk.”

You laid your head back against the pillow with your eyes facing the wall. “There isn’t anything to talk about.”

Din pressed a gentle hand on your leg to keep you anchored to his attention. “Don’t. Please don’t shut me out. If there’s something I did-”

You quickly cut him off. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

The bounty hunter straightened his posture. “You haven’t spoken much about anything. To anyone. This can’t go on, and I know you know it.”

You shot up and stared down the Mandalorian. “You may be good at hunting down people, but your social skills are lacking. Take a hint and leave me alone.”

Din remained quiet as he paused and contemplated his next move. He reached for his helmet and set it aside.

“Do I make you… unhappy?” He asked in a pleading tone.

You looked away. “No, of course not.”

The Mandalorian frowned. That wasn’t an assuring response, and he remained quiet.

The tension in the air was static; it was another moment before you sighed and turned back to him. “I… a few weeks ago, I received not-so-great news,” You started wringing your hands together and pursed your lips. “My mother isn’t well and doesn’t have long.”

Din furrowed his brows. “Oh… I’m sorry.”

You shook your head and grabbed his hands. “No, I should be the one to be sorry. I’ve been so hung up on my grief and guilt in delaying seeing her before her time that I’ve been taking it out on you. That’s not fair to you, and I’m sorry, Din.”

The bounty hunter pulled you into an embrace, and you held onto him. Hot, stinging tears peeked from your eyes. “I’m here.” He murmured in your ear.

You lost it. The emotional dam broke, and you cried, letting out all you’d been holding in flooding out as Din kept you close. He was a man of few words, but even then was able to relieve your anguish.

You cried until your voice became hoarse, and when it finally died, you were still lying in the bounty hunter's arms. "I'm sorry for not telling you what was wrong. I didn't mean to make it seem like it was your fault."

"I understand," Din rubbed your back in reassurance. "Sometimes it's hard to talk about things."

You smiled tiredly and nuzzled into his neck. “I love you, Din.”

“I love you.” The Mandalorian replied with a hint of a smile on his face.

A small coo came below the two of you and saw Grogu reaching up towards the both of you. You grabbed the toddler and held him between you and Din.

“Can’t be excluded, huh, pal?” You chuckled.

Grogu just tilted his head and smiled at you.

Din smiled at you and Grogu and kissed your forehead, putting a hand on the little green alien’s head. “And about your mother, whatever you decide, we’re your clan. We’re here for you.”

#mandalorian imagine #mandalorian x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #mando imagine #mando x reader #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian #grogu #star wars imagine #star wars #the child #pedro pascal #written by jesse

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