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luvnami · 3 years

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𝐎𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 (here) | 𝐖𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 | 𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 | 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 - This is my entry for @jjkmag Summer Collab! It’s my first long fic in a while but I had a lot of fun writing this (that isn’t to say I think it’s very good. I hope the plot/finality was pulled off decently ok lol). I hope you enjoy it! I chose the prompt 'coming of age', though there are definitely scenes where the other prompts were present as well. Reblogs, comments, shares and likes are really appreciated!!

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 - @getousuguruwife @amjustagirl @aliteama

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - Amnesia, Memory loss, Blood, Mild gore, Death, Blood loss, Bullying, Mild Racism (only in the first part), Corpses, Food, Manga spoilers, Pre-canon and canon compliant to a certain extent, Nightmares

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Nanami Kento's life has been... Good, bad, and everything in between. He (and many others) thinks he's mature, independent, the definition of what a proper adult should be like. But really, the only way he's made it this far is because you've been holding his hand the entire time.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 6.4k

The first memory Nanami has of you sits in a blurry haze at the back of his mind.

You’re probably four or five years old at best, squatting by a puddle in the empty kindergarten playground. Nanami wonders what made him waddle over to you that warm afternoon.

His shoes, scribbled with ugly caricatures in marker, carry him to the other side of the puddle. A shadow cast by a plastic slide slices your features neatly in half like a Greek theatre mask. Nanami doesn’t speak a word to you as he stares at your chubby fingers that push a fallen leaf around in the water as the surface ripples silently.

You look up at Nanami. He’s an odd child, excluded by the other kindergarteners because of how quiet and strange he is. Nanami’s blond hair is abnormal to the immature local Japanese children. They knee the back of his legs while calling him names like ‘banana-gaijin!’ and making fun of his fancy leather shoes.

“Do you wanna play with me?”

Nanami wonders if the words you speak to him are from your heart or something constructed from a plan to bully him again.

“My mama taught me how to make boats with leaves. See?” You point to the puddle. “We can race them.”

Nanami carefully selects a leaf off of the playground’s floor. It’s still green, freshly fallen from its branch. You grin toothily, your eyes sparkling.

“That’s a perfect leaf!” you declare.

Nanami thinks he wants to play with you forever.

He follows you around in school like a lost puppy after that, clutching his hands nervously when you stand up to the children who bully him. Nanami wonders if you’ll ever turn your back on him. He arrives earlier than you every morning and hurriedly scrubs at your table with his handkerchief to get rid of nasty words and obscene drawings, heart thumping against his cotton polo. When his mother asks him why his new handkerchief is so dirty, he remains silent and grips the hem of his shirt tightly.

Children are children; Nanami learns. Afraid of abnormalities, they defend their right to innocence and ego with harsh words and various schemes. He learns to ignore the whispers behind his back. What he can’t disregard, though, is when they lash out at you.

They jeer when you trip during P.E. classes and bump into you on purpose when you carry your lunch tray. You pretend that it doesn’t hurt when Nanami holds your hand gently and leads you to the nurse’s office with scraped knees, hiccuping and swiping at your eyes roughly.

He wonders why you don’t take the easy way out and just stop being friends with him. What’s wrong with you? You hold him tightly, a bundle of thorns, in your soft hands and pretend that you’re not bleeding.

“Ken-chan?” you sniffle.

He turns.

“You’re my best friend, right?”

Nanami gulps. He doesn’t question why you cry on graduation day, bidding your final farewell to him with vague promises of meeting in the same elementary school. Something in his chest doesn’t sit right; the kind of feeling when his mother threw out his old stuffed toys after she deemed him too old for them anymore.

He watches you grow smaller and smaller in the rear window of his family car till you’re the size of an ant, his knees digging into the leather seats.

“Sit down, Kento,” his father chides.

Nanami ignores him. He watches you wave your hand in the air as the car turns around the corner and lurches into the seat.

☆*: .｡.

Nanami’s genuinely surprised when he finds out that his assigned seat is right next to you on the first day of elementary school. You’re no different, mouth wide open in an ‘o’ as you stare at him.“Ken-chan!”

You almost yell, and Nanami shushes you as his face heats up. He finds out that your mothers had conspired to put the both of you into the same school. He can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing just yet, but peace settles into his chest the same way the wings of a bird return to its sides after flight when you giggle at his flustered expression.

Through nine years of elementary and junior high school together, Nanami learns that you always arrange the tips of your pencils to face the right side of your pencil box, and you keep the torn bits of movie tickets shoved into your bedside drawer. You find that Nanami has a knack for dry humour — he’s blunt at every moment possible (which caused much distress after he talked back to a teacher that one time) and can usually be bribed for any favour as long as you pay him in food.

What the both of you find oddly shocking, though, is that no one else can see the creatures that swim through walls and perch in dark corners of the school.

They make you sweat whenever they get too close, bulbous eyes and strange bodies twisting in ways that shouldn’t be physically possible. Sometimes they make noises, whispering or coaxing or shrieking or crying in broken sentences.

Nanami learns to treat them as background noise. You, on the other hand, find that a little more complicated. Sometimes you latch onto him when one brushes against your arm, squeaking and swatting at them in an attempt to chase them away.

“They’re so gross!” you’d whine, pressing yourself even closer to Nanami. “Did you see that one in the gym yesterday? It had tentacles!”

In cases like this, the blond clears his throat and ignores you, averting his gaze. He doesn’t admit to anyone, not even himself, that the warmth of your skin through your uniform makes his heart skip a beat. You’ve grown so close to him that you even know that Nanami sleeps with Doraemon pajamas (absolutely, abhorrently embarrassing. He made his mother throw them out the night after you came over for a sleepover). It was inevitable for him to develop feelings.

Nanami shoves his feelings below a lid and sits on top of it, keeping them under lock and key. He’s sure this is just something to do with puppy love or ‘infatuations’ that are underlined in the puberty print-outs the school distributed, alongside scientific diagrams of genitals that the boys in his class giggle at.

Being friends is enough. Or so he thinks, anyway.

☆*: .｡.

It’s a Friday evening when the sky is dark, and street lights flicker in the distance. Nanami munches away on melon bread from a convenience store while you sip on a carton of juice. Your clubs had ended late today, so the sun was down by the time you left school.

“How’s the bread?” you ask, slurping up the last drops of your drink.

Nanami chews and swallows while you dab at your mouth with a yellow cotton handkerchief.

“It’s okay. Not as good as a bakery’s, though. Kinda stale.”

He crumples the plastic packaging in his hand and sticks it into his pocket, planning to dispose of it later. The both of you round the corner to the bus stop, and your feet fall still. A large curse sits in the middle of the road.

Numerous cars are crumpled like drink cans, smoke, and gasoline leaking onto the streets. There’s blood. Too much blood, in fact, that they seem like puddles of rain on the dark tarmac. Your juice box drops from your hand.

The curse turns to you, its teeth split vertically down the centre of what constitutes a face. Multiple eyes run down the length of its engorged body where various hands and feet stick out at random parts.

“Blood… Blood…” it moans in a cryptic voice.

Nanami stands with his feet frozen to the ground, eyes wide in horror. His knuckles turn white as he grips his school bag. Run, run, run! He screams internally, but his limbs don’t listen to him. The curse slides over the road towards him, slipping through the blood easily.

“Give me… Your blood…”

A part of the curse’s body bubbles up into a large hand. It swings itself back before throwing its newly created appendage towards Nanami. RUN RUN RUN! His legs don’t move. He squeezes his eyes shut, awaiting the impact. Except that it doesn’t hit him. Nothing hurts, except the shrill scream that pierces his ears. Nanami’s eyes snap open in horror.

“Kento!” you yell, dangling upside down as the curse pulls you towards its mouth.

Your school bag lays on the ground below, books scattered as their pages turn red.

“Run!”

Nanami drops everything as he scrambles towards you, tripping over his own two feet and landing face-first in the blood. His hands and knees sting. He shoves himself and gets up with his teeth clenched. You kick your feet in the air in a poor attempt to escape the curse’s grip but to no avail. Another groan is squeezed out of you as the curse opens its mouth, the foul stench of rotting bodies engulfing you.

“Run, Kento!” you plead.

How can he turn his back on you? Sweat drips down his forehead as Nanami pulls his hand back. The adrenaline that rushes through his blood clears in a split-second moment of raw emotion; anger, disappointment, confusion, sadness. A tingling sort of energy floods his body, and Nanami takes a sharp breath of air. He sees something like a ruler — a line divided equally with ten markings, the seventh one crossed out. His fist connects with it.

The curse lets out a weak moan of pain, shaking you around as it recoils from Nanami’s hit. It’s not much, just a surface injury at most. Nanami’s limbs tremble with exertion. One more time, again and again, until you’re safe-

A thick, gross liquid engulfs Nanami as the curse explodes in front of his very eyes. He coughs, running a slimy hand over his face. It smells like death.

“Woah! You put too much into that again, Satoru.”

“Shut up!”

Nanami looks up as he hears footsteps move towards him, the quiet splashing of blood beneath shoes.

“Ugh, this place is so gross.”

“You okay there, kiddo?”

Nanami looks up to find a male with his hair pulled back into a bun staring at him. Behind him is a white-haired teenager with sunglasses (strange, hasn’t the sun already gone down?) and an imposing-looking man.

Where are you?

Nanami glances around frantically amidst the dead bodies that lie on the ground. Not you, not you, not- A tiny sliver of hope slips into his heart when he spots your uniform, and he stumbles over.

“Woah! Slow down!”

He calls out your name, slipping and collapsing onto his knees. Your eyes are closed, and a wound on your head oozes blood. A young girl with short hair reaches out to touch you, but Nanami pulls you into his chest, his eyes wide.

“Don’t,” he whispers.

His head spins. Are these good people? How did they just destroy that big monster? He hadn’t even seen them coming. Were they going to hurt you?

“Calm down, man! We’re good guys.”

“No one’s going to trust you when you say that, Satoru.”

The girl stares at Nanami.

“I’ll take care of your injuries. Can you let me see them, please?”

He relaxes. His grip on you loosens, and the girl feels for your pulse, nodding in affirmation.

“Alive.”

Nanami breathes a sigh of relief. At this realisation, his body begins to tremble like a leaf in the wind. He digs his nails into his palms but still they quiver. His heart pounds in his chest and he struggles to take a deep breath, exhaustion overtaking him.

“Hey, you okay?”

His eyes fall shut.

☆*: .｡.

Nanami finds out over a hot cup of tea that those monsters are called curses, and not everyone can see them.

“Lucky you!” Gojo chimes in.

Lucky? His face wrinkles in despair and Getou laughs so loud at his reaction that he has to step out of the room.

Nanami had sustained minor injuries — nothing beyond a few scrapes and some trauma. You were fine for the most part. After hitting your head on the ground, you remained unconscious for a few more days after Nanami had woken up. You were covered in a few bruises, but otherwise alright.

Nanami was infinitely thankful for that

Yaga tells him that he has enough aptitude to become a full-fledged sorcerer. The school he teaches at is called Jujutsu High and is located on the outskirts of Tokyo. Since he’s in his final year of junior high, why not give it a thought if he wants to join them? Nanami holds Yaga’s name card numbly.

He looks up at Yaga, only one objective clear in his mind. He doesn’t want to see you hurt any longer.

“Will you teach me how to exorcise curses?” he asks.

Gojo laughs outrightly and Geto snorts. Yaga gives him a confident smile, clapping Nanami on the shoulder (he doesn’t quite like that, but he overlooks it for now).

“You can count on that.”

☆*: .｡.

Nanami’s a little apprehensive about entering Jujutsu High, especially when you decide to enrol as well. Given the ability to see curses, you were adamant about learning to help others with this ability you were gifted with. He relented and sulked for the rest of the day until you gave him a cup of pudding.

The first day Nanami and you enter Jujutsu Tech, you meet a wide-eyed boy named Haibara Yu. He’s overly optimistic and passionate — precisely the kind of person that Nanami tires of interacting with. In fact, the very first thing Haibara says upon meeting the both of you irritates him.

“Woah! Blondie, are you from an emo band or something? Your hair really matches the vibe!” Haibara had gasped.

You struggled to suppress your giggles, biting on your lower lip as you turned to the side. Nanami, on the other hand, didn’t find it quite as funny.

“No, I’m not. Nice to meet you too,” he replied monotonously.

It takes all of the following month for Nanami to get used to Haibara’s eccentricities. He always does his best during training, mingles enthusiastically with the upperclassmen and chows down on at least two bowls of rice during break time. The most annoying part about him is how Haibara seems to get along so well with you.

You laugh too loudly for Nanami’s liking at his jokes, squeeze in between Haibara and him (brushing shoulders with the both of them! Seriously!) when they’re standing together just to listen in on Haibara’s monologuing, and sometimes even end up sparring with him instead of Nanami.

The blond curses that there is an odd number of first years and peers in the mirror after his shower as he wonders what he would look like with a black bowl cut. He even tries to finish more than one serving of ginger pork on one particular day and gets sent to the school nurse for a tummy ache.

Though, the three of you have chemistry that works out when fighting curses. Nanami is the primary damage dealer of the group, while you learn how to provide support with Haibara and create openings for Nanami to attack. So on your first ‘real group mission’ assigned to you by Yaga, you can’t help but set off with overflowing excitement.

It isn’t often that you have the opportunity to step outside of Jujutsu High on your own without supervision. Even on weekends, you’re usually expected to train or study. The sun shines warmly down upon the streets of Asakusa, and tourists and locals alike swarm the city area.

“Hey! We should totally give Sensou-ji Temple a visit later!” Haibara suggests, pumping his fist in the air.

“We’re not here to sightsee,” Nanami sighs.

“That’s what you said the last time we went to Okinawa, and guess what, Nanamin! We didn’t even get to try their sushi!”

“Yeah, and you forgot to bring back souvenirs for me, Ken-chan,” you chime in.

“I told you to stop adding -chan to my name.”

“Why not? Doesn’t it sound cute?”

“Mhm!”

Haibara nods furiously. Nanami ignores the both of you with a sigh. He slings a bag containing his sword over his shoulder once more as the crowd barely makes space for you to move through.

“We can’t take too long,” he relents.

The cheers and high-fives that you and Haibara give each other make a vein bulge on Nanami’s temple. He tries not to read too much into the way you immediately begin discussing what places to visit and eat at with Haibara — didn’t you care for his opinion? He shakes his head and increases his pace, leaving the both of you behind.

Nanami ignores the cries of ‘Ken-chan!’ and ‘Nanamin!’ that ring out through the crowd. Whatever. If you want to be with Haibara, then Nanami will gladly get out of the way for you. He drags his feet on the pavement and settles for a cup of iced tea in a nearby cafe gloomily.

What Nanami is doing is… childish. He knows, at the very least, that he should be happy the both of you have met a nice new friend. But he can’t help the jealousy that rises in his chest like smoke in a chimney when he sees you cling onto Haibara the same way you used to do to him.

Was Haibara nicer, more good-looking, stronger, funnier, gentler, better than every single trait in Nanami combined? You no longer ask Nanami how he slept the previous night, instead running over to Haibara and greeting him cheerily. Forget about how you used to come over to Nanami’s house to study after school — you and Haibara disappear to who knows where after training everyday.

He bites down on his straw. The bitter taste of a lemon seed fills his mouth and Nanami spits it out onto a napkin with more force than necessary. He takes a deep breath. He should make things clear to you, then, and let you know how he feels about you. To him, it sounds a little like love.

Nanami’s face flushes with embarrassment. Love is… Love isn’t this. It definitely isn’t getting jealous over your relationships with other people, nor is it forcing you to accept his feelings out of spite. He finishes the last bit of his iced tea, the straw making a gurgling noise as it fails to suck up any more liquid. He leaves his money by the counter and walks back outside, returning his heart back to its safe, clicking the lock shut once more. His shoulders sag as he lets out a pent-up sigh.

Nanami squints at his phone. The golden sunlight makes it difficult to read his messages, but he manages to pick out four missed calls from you and a hundred text messages from Haibara. His blood runs cold when he scrolls to the last text that he received.

Haibara Yu, 4.25p.m.: curse help 6 cho

It’s currently 4.35p.m. 6-chome is a 15 minutes walk away, five minutes if he sprints fast enough. Nanami hopes that you’re okay, that Haibara has enough sense to call for other back-up or avoid the curse.

Nanami’s feet pound under him as he shoves his way through the crowds, earning distasteful looks and swears. He doesn’t care. Not when you and Haibara are facing a possible grade 2 curse alone, and not when it’s because of Nanami’s irresponsibility and useless emotions that had caused the three of you to be separated.

His breath comes quick and hard and his thighs burn, screaming for relief. He makes a sharp turn and almost crashes into a bicycle.

“Watch where you’re going!” an angry housewife yells, but her words fall on deaf ears.

Just a little more, he begs.

Nanami hears the fighting before he sees it. The sound of metal meeting metal and the roar of the curse sound uncharacteristically comforting to him as he draws his sword, racing to bear a fighting stance.

But he’s too late.

“Yu!” you cry out as Haibara crumples onto the ground.

His eyes meet Nanami’s. His uniform is tattered, face bearing wounds and his right arm is bent at an unnatural shape, almost like a knotted tree branch. You seem relatively unhurt, although your breathing is laboured.

“Kento,” Haibara wheezes.

Nanami’s feet don’t move. His chest heaves, perspiration pouring down his face and drenching his uniform. The grip on his sword slips ever so slightly. The curse stands at the end of a ruined district. You aren’t trained to fight in such close quarters, or reduce the number of casualties to a bare minimum.

And Nanami hadn’t been here to provide damage to exorcise it.

“Who are you? Another small fry?” the curse scoffs.

It takes the body of a geisha, dressed in luxurious robes that whip about in the air. Consciousness? This isn’t a grade 2 by any means — it’s a special grade curse. The will to fight slips out of Nanami like water from a cup, trickling from the top of his head to the tips of his toes.

“Haibara!” Nanami shouts.

The male gives Nanami one last smile from where he is.

“You’ve got it from here,” he whispers, lips barely moving.

The geisha stretches out its hand, a portion of its obi moving along with it. You and Nanami watch in horror as Haibara’s head is neatly decapitated from his body. His blood drips off of the ends of the robes as the curse cackles, his head rolling to a stop as his half-closed eyes stare up at Nanami like a dead fish’s.

“You think you can beat me? Look at your little friend!”

Fury rushes into Nanami like a wave meeting the shore.

“You’ll die here by my hands!” the curse roars.

You take a step back as the geisha prepares to launch another attack, silk sashes drawn back into the sky before they plunge back at you two in an aerial attack. Nanami leaps through the attacks as his body moves faster than he can process it.

You, on the other hand, create a shield out of cursed energy to try and deflect the attacks. At the very least, Haibara deserves a proper burial. There isn’t time for mourning now, and you have to wipe away the tears that pool in your eyes. You try to ignore the way his head rolls closer to your foot and bumps against it gently.

Nanami lets out a yell of anger. His cursed energy swells as he cuts his way through the sashes, movement based on momentum than anything else at this point. His mind is clouded with regret and frustration. Nanami channels his anger into his sword, the ten destined lines appearing before his eyes once more.

The curse lets out a cry of pain as it stumbles back, sashes redrawn as it tries to gauge its wounds. Blood gushes from a slash on its side and Nanami darts forward again — again, again, again, until its dead. His legs, however, are weaker than what he thinks they can bear. Nanami stumbles in his step.

“Ken!” you shout.

The curse grins. It takes little to no time to regenerate, skin overlapping raw flesh as it gets back onto its feet.

“You’re weak,” it taunts. “First your friend, now you. I’ll be sure to savour the last one as well!”

Nanami struggles to get back onto his feet. He gasps, heart ripping a hole through his chest. He’s so exhausted; so worn out, that his arms refuse to raise his sword above chest height. He curses.

You run over to Nanami, grabbing his uniform and dragging him back. The curse starts to chant ominously. Its face turns dark, taking steps that sway its body with thick, lacquered geta. You shove Nanami back as you’re engulfed by its domain, swallowed up by darkness and spit into a tatami room. He barely has time to call your name before you disappear.

“Shit!”

Nanami stumbles back onto his feet, but sinks down onto his knees again. His shoulders quake as he tries to suck in breaths of air, but his throat is too dry. He coughs and adjusts his grip on his sword. Shit, shit, shit. All of his partners tossed themselves at death as if it was an idle thing just to protect him. What was Nanami doing? He would never become a sorcerer like this, never be able to protect you.

He grits his teeth. He’ll never be enough.

Nanami picks up his sword, wrapping his fingers around its hilt one more time. He dashes towards the domain, tasting iron as he hacks and slashes at it. Again, again, and again. His hands turn numb and his cursed energy flickers like a candle’s flame, but there’s one thing Nanami’s insistent on — getting you out of there.

The domain finally collapses as Nanami finally steadies himself on his feet. You roll to the ground, breath shallow. Your uniform is sliced up in different areas and a pool of blood begins to spread where your head meets the floor.

“Ken…?” you whisper.

Nanami smells it — the scent of death. Why did he ever choose to become a sorcerer over an ordinary high school life? He wouldn’t have dragged you into this mess, caused you to be hurt time and time again. Nanami calls out your name tentatively. You don’t respond.

The curse roars with laughter as your eyes fall shut, “Don’t you see how I’m so strong? You’re nothing compared to me-”

Nanami sees red. He launches himself forward, brandishing his sword even if it’s for the last time.

He doesn’t remember what happens afterwards.

Nanami sinks into a pool of blood, head spinning with exertion. Your body lays to his left, Haibara’s head to his right. He collapses to the ground.

☆*: .｡.

When he comes to, Nanami’s eyes struggle to adjust to the white light that floods the room. It smells vaguely like antiseptic. He slowly sits up, body aching with exhaustion with telltale bandages wrapped around most of his exposed limbs.

A drawn curtain separates his bed from the rest of the room, which he assumes to be Jujutsu Tech’s sickbay. He runs a hand over his face and lies back down, letting sleep take him by the hand and lead him a step further from reality.

Nanami wakes up a second time when Shouko returns to the room. He stares at her, blinking once, then twice.

“Nanami?” she asks softly. “Can you hear me?”

He tries to reply, but his throat is parched. He ends up coughing, wrinkling his face as pain spreads through his ribs. Shouko rushes to get him a glass of water and calls the rest (namely Yaga and Gojo) over. Nanami nurses the glass as Yaga takes a seat by his bed.

There are no questions, only condolences and murmured explanations of what had happened. The only thing Nanami picks up is that you’re alive. That’s more than enough for him to relax, nodding dumbly along to Yaga’s words.

The curse had been on the brink of death when Nanami collapsed. However, he had put up enough of a fight for nearby sorcerers to come to his aid and finish it off. There was no doubt about it — it was a special grade curse. Yaga apologises for the miscommunication and loss of Haibara’s life. Nanami doesn’t reply.

No amount of apologies could turn back time and bring Haibara back.

It takes him a few more days before Nanami’s able to hobble around the school, aided by crutches. Gojo pokes fun at how he seems like a grandpa but even his jokes don’t bear the mean edge they usually do. Getou leaves a can of vending machine coffee by his bedside table and Shouko brings him some wildflowers. Nanami leaves the plush cat Yaga had made for him untouched.

Nanami struggles against the nightmares that plague him. In one Haibara cradles his decapitated head in his own arms, asking Nanami why he hadn’t saved his life; in another you die, guts spilling onto the streets with your eyes bulging from your skull. Nanami wakes up in cold sweat. He calms his breathing alone and doesn’t sleep a single wink.

It’s a rainy day when Shouko lets him enter the morgue. Haibara’s body is laid in a shroud of white, his head positioned to appear attached. Had he ever been so pale? Nanami’s fingers grip his crutches, gritting his teeth.

How long his eyelashes had been! A small scar runs down his left temple (“After my sister shoved me in the playground!” Haibara had chirped), and his bangs remain as perfectly cut as they had been when he died. Nanami half expects him to sit up, to grin and laugh at his twisted face.

“Why’re you so stiff, Nanami? It’s just a joke!”

Justajokejustajokejustajoke.

A chasm opens up in Nanami’s stomach. His crutches clatter to the floor as he races out of the morgue, stumbling when pain shoots up his right leg. He retches dryly and tears pool in his eyes. Shouko silently covers Haibara and closes the door, Nanami’s tears falling alongside the pouring rain.

That night in his dreams, Haibara slices Nanami’s head off. He wakes up with his heart racing and tears slipping down his cheeks.

Nanami visits you the next day. He had been reluctant to do so — what if you blamed him for everything, for Haibara’s death and your injuries? He wouldn’t be able to bear it, to be hated by you. His hand hovers over your dorm doorknob, hesitating. Nanami takes a deep breath as he swallows his anxiety and opens the door.

It’s as if nothing had ever happened.

You sit on your bed, neatly tucked under the covers with a book sitting on your lap. Warm sunshine pours through the open windows and the penguin plush Nanami had won for you at a festival still sits by your desk. You look up when he walks in.

Nanami calls out your name. You stare at him.

“Sorry, but… Who are you?” you ask quietly, a sense of confusion lacing your words.

He stops by the door and Nanami’s heart sinks to his feet.

“I’m Kento. Nanami Kento,” he repeats, words tasting like ash in his mouth.

Checkered curtains flutter in the wind and the pages of your book butterfly open to an unread chapter. You keep your eyes focused on Nanami, eyebrows slightly furrowed in confusion.

“I don’t know anyone by that name,” you reply.

☆*: .｡.

A toxic mix of trauma and a severe head injury had caused your amnesia. Nanami lays in bed at night, staring up at the ceiling. If only he hadn’t let his emotions overtake him, if only he had been there a minute earlier, if only if only if only. Regret dulls his sense of taste and emotions. He no longer takes joy in eating anything (even those croissants Getou had bought while out on a mission), nor does he even crack a smile at Gojo’s antics.

Nanami returns to training once he is physically well again. He becomes the only first-year to attend Yaga’s classes, sparring practice conducted with the second years. He goes out on missions alone and learns to provide both defense and offense for himself. Nanami trains, he exercises curses, he returns to school. He repeats this same cycle mindlessly over and over again.

Time heals, they say. Nanami wonders how much time it must take for him to let go of everything.

Nanami learns to hide his disappointment. His face becomes a strong facade for whatever his weak heart truly feels. The quiet sigh he lets out when no one’s around, the stretching of his neck after yet another fruitless day of training — Nanami decides that he’ll leave the world of sorcery once he’s graduated.

Seasons change and Nanami becomes a second year, then a third year. Getou falls away. The seniors graduate and new freshmen enter the school. Nanami keeps these things in the back of his mind as he raises his sword for a countless time, striking the training doll with ease.

You work with Shouko in the infirmary, occasionally helping out with office work. The school had deemed it better to keep you under their care than to release you outside. Like a rehabilitated animal, Nanami thinks.

You still remember no memories of him. Nanami brings you sweets and souvenirs from his missions, letting you trace your fingers over the fancy packaging with a sparkle in your eye. At this, Nanami swallows back his confession of love once more. He can’t bear to burden you with his feelings.

You form new impressions of him. Nanami turns into the stone-faced and adorable boy who treats you like fine China, always sticking his hands out awkwardly when he tries to give you something. The tips of his ears burn red when he lies — especially when you ask him, “Nanami, did you buy this for me?” and he shakes his head furiously.

You think he’s kind. He comforts you when you cry over lost memories, unable to remember the faces in photographs that had once been so familiar. The first thing Nanami does after returning from a mission is to rush to you. Were you okay? Did you have your meals? One time, he came over without getting his injuries checked and collapsed by your feet. You scolded him after that, tenderly dressing his wounds.

“Nanami!” you said crossly, a pout on your face.

He tries to forget how he had asked you to stop calling him ‘Ken-chan’. He ducks his head, hissing when you douse his skin in antiseptic.

Some things don’t change, though. You still keep your pencil box immaculately neat — the tips of your stationery always pointing to the right side. Though you don’t have any more movie ticket stubs, you carefully clip the pictures of your childhood Nanami had given to you together and keep them under your pillow.

One day, you munch on a yummy biscuit Nanami brought back for you. He sits on the floor and polishes his sword, peering at it from every angle to make sure it’s evenly oiled.

“Nanami?”

He hums.

“Has anyone ever told you that you look like you’re from an emo boy band? Your hair matches it.”

Your shy laugh rings out in the room as bile rises in Nanami’s throat. He sheathes his sword and lays it on the ground.

“Yes, they have.”

He struggles to smile, his gut twisting.

☆*: .｡.

On graduation day, no one else but Nanami receives his certificate with a flower corsage pinned to his chest. The room is empty save for him and Yaga, the chirping of spring birds breaking the silence.

“I’m glad to have been able to teach you, Nanami,” Yaga broods. “You’ve grown a lot.”

Nanami does not reply. He bows deeply and strides out of the main building. All of a sudden, the traditional architecture and nature that surround Jujutsu High seems stifling. His skin crawls with the urge to leave as soon as possible.

“Nanamin!”

He jumps. Turning around, he finds you grinning happily with a bouquet of flowers in hand.

“Congratulations on your graduation!” you chirp.

Nanami accepts the flowers awkwardly and rests them in the crook of his elbow, his other hand clutching his certificate. A gentle breeze rustles the leaves of nearby trees and a wave of sakura petals descend from their branches like rain.

“Nanamin,” your voice grows softer. “Are you leaving forever?”

He swallows, then nods wordlessly.

“Will I ever see you again?”

“I wanna be with you forever, Ken-chan!” you wailed.

“Forever’s a long time,” Nanami replied.

He handed you his yellow cotton handkerchief, face wrinkling when you honked your nose into it. Gross. His neck hurt from sticking it out of the car window. He can hear his father tapping a finger onto the wheel impatiently, his mother silent as she stares out the front.

“B-but!”

Your bottom lip quivered and Nanami let out a sigh.

“Fine, fine. I’ll be with you, okay?”

“Really, Ken-chan? Forever?”

“Yeah, really. Forever.”

You grinned in the waning sunlight as your mother tugged you away.

“I’ll never forget you, Ken-chan!” you shouted.

The car window rolled up and he watched you disappear into the horizon, turning as tiny as an ant.

Nanami swallows his heart into the pit of his stomach.

“Probably.”

“That’s not a definitive answer, Nanamin.”

“What do you want me to tell you, then?”

There’s a slight tremble in his voice. The plastic wrapping of the flowers crinkle under his grip and waves of emotions rush over him; the biggest out of all of them regret. He struggles to breathe underwater, keeping his eyes squeezed shut and nose plugged up. A sakura petal lands on his shoulder. He doesn’t bother brushing it away.

“Say,” you whisper, taking a step to close the distance between Nanami and you.

He gulps as you place a hand upon his chest. He can feel the heat of your skin through his uniform and Nanami’s too dumbstruck to respond.

“Why don’t you give me your second button?”

Your eyes meet his. A smile toys with the corners of his lips and suddenly Nanami blurts out a nervous “Okay.”. His mind flickers back to Haibara momentarily; how you had appeared to like him so much back then. But he chooses to shove those memories into the back of his mind once more as you produce a small pair of scissors and snip the thread.

“You always take care of me, Nanamin. It was natural of me to fall in love with you,” you breathe, cradling the swirl patterned button in your hands.

A gust of cool air slips into his unbuttoned shirt and Nanami’s breath hitches.

“Do you like me too?”

Your question is innocent. With the way you peer up at him, there’s no way that Nanami can lie. Your glittery eyes were the same ones he had fallen in love with all those years ago. He wonders if he still loves you in the same way as he did then; as faultless and innocent it had been. His heart sits on the tip of his tongue.

“Yeah, I do.”

Your eyes crinkle at the edges as you smile, an evident sigh of relief escaping your lips. You slip the button into your pocket before tugging Nanami even closer towards you. He yelps as your chest presses against his and the tips of his ears turn red.

You plant your lips by the side of his.

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angelanimedesaray · 3 years

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Through The Looking Glass Chapter 5: Flickers In Time

AN: Okay, so there’s a lot of time skipping in here, just a lot of brief short moments as our little ones get a little older. The time frame is honestly all over the place for what happens when. I’m doing this before we get back on track because I realized a lot of these scenes I had planned I couldn’t string together in a cohesive linear fashion at the length I’ve been writing these chapters, so I decided just to do a time passing chapter, and here we are.

Also, congrats guys, the next chapter is our first MATURE CONTENT warning that I’m honestly a little nervous writing, but we’ll see how it goes.

Characters: Levi, Reader, Reader’s Parents (Mentioned), Kenny (Mentioned), Occasional OCs

Pairings: (Eventual) Levi x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Family Drama/Troubles, Running Away, Mentions of Divorce, (Is Fluff really a Warning??? I mean, if you don’t want to feel warm fuzzies, I guess)

Word Count: 10464

<---Previous Part Masterlist Next Chapter---->

Levi flickered in and out of your life in moments that could be fleeting like the pictures of an old film, or seemingly endless and frozen in time, held in your hands like precious gems.

Friends came and went as you grew older and the social cliques and popularity divided people further and further away at school. It didn’t help that your mother followed through with her threat and pulled you out of school to homeschool you for a year, and your family moved a few times for your father’s job. But despite all the rapid change in the space of a few years, Levi continued to appear at the most unexpected of times, a constant friend despite his inconstant presence. He grew more...distant, the older the two of you became. Not distant like your friends at school had become, simply more...reserved, withdrawn into himself, and wary of the world around him. But you could still get him to relax, get his guard to lower some when he was around you. He always arrived acting far more mature than his age, but you managed to get him to be a /kid/ with you at some point during his visits…

*Levi’s POV*

The trees outside had turned, a palette of oranges, reds, yellows, and lingering remnants of green, clinging to the thinning tree branches or littering the ground like paint spatter. Levi had stared at the colors in silent, wide-eyed fascination when he’d appeared, twirling an orange leaf between two fingers by the stem before Y/N had grabbed him by the arm with a happy exclamation of his name, dragging him deeper into the yard and insisting that he help her rake up a pile of leaves to jump into.

He’d been a little displeased when he saw all that hard work to rake up the yard disappear as she jumped into their pile and sent leaves everywhere, but the shrieked giggles and the wide grin on her face as she rolled around and continued to spread leaves everywhere helped make up for it. Plus, she was perfectly ready and willing to rake up the pile all over again so Levi could try doing the same--apparently she’d seen his skepticism over the point of it all.

He had to admit that there was a sort of childish thrill to jump in and cause an explosion of fluttering autumn colors all around him.

Afterwards, when the leaves were raked up into their final piles and they had picked all the bits of multicolored leaves off of one another, she had dragged him inside raving about caramel apples she said were a Halloween only treat--whatever that was. By now, he’d learned to just go with the strange things she said. They made sense to her, and he didn’t need to understand everything she talked about to enjoy what she was trying to share with him.

This time, it was green apples on sticks with a shining brown glaze and chopped up nuts sprinkled all around it. It was sticky at the same time it was juicy, since the apple was crisp and fresh underneath--sweeter than the things he was used to eating, but not enough to give him a stomach ache, thankfully. They both had the caramel and apple juice all over them when they finished, having to scrub at their faces and fingers afterwards. As with most of the foods and drinks she shared with him when he visited, it was another thing he’d been able to genuinely enjoy, part of him wishing the treat wasn’t seasonal like she’d told him it was so that he could look forward to maybe having one more often when he saw her.

*Levi’s POV*

The excitement practically oozed from Y/N when he appeared one day, and she dragged him into the house, informing him that her family bought a piano for her to practice with at home. This was something he was more familiar with by proxy, considering all the times she’d talked about learning to play the piano, sometimes at his prompting. As such, as soon as she said she had a piano, for once he knew what he was being dragged into, and he looked forward to it with enough curious excitement that he easily matched her pace. Curiosity and even some excitement radiated from him as they tread into a part of the house that he hadn’t seen since his first visit. At the foot of the stairs was the large living room, and pushed up against the wall was a light brown wooden piece of furniture with ivory white and onyx black keys, and a matching bench pushed underneath.

Y/N let go of his arm long enough to pull out the bench with a brief, frustrated grunt when it got caught on the soft rug, which did in fact cover the entire flooring now that Levi got to look at it. She slid onto the bench with ease and got off again to adjust it, doing this several times until she had it where she wanted it and could reach the pedals at the bottom and seemed to be able to reach the keys. At that point, she turned to look at Levi, who had walked up to the piano to investigate, hand gliding gently over the smooth wood and listening to the hollow thunk of her foot pressing on the peddles underneath as she tried to make sure she could reach everything.

“C’mon, there’s room for both of us. You can turn the pages for me, too!” she said cheerfully as she opened up a thin book that was propped up in the center of the piano above the keys on a built-in stand.

Levi racked his brain for the names of some of the songs she’d said she was learning to play on the piano in all their conversations, dismissing the ones she’s said were really easy, the first songs she’d learned to play. What had been the name of that one song she’d been looking forward to learning?

“Have you learned Furr A Lease yet?” Levi asked as he took a seat next to her on the bench.

Y/N lit up as he mentioned it, flipping through the pages of the book and settling on a specific one that had rows of bars and spots that made no sense to him, but clearly meant something to her. “You remembered! I had my teacher promise to teach me to play Fur Elise as soon as I could recognize all the notes, so I can! You’ll have to turn the page once for me,” she rambled, fingers hovering over and finding their place on the keys as her eyes flickered up towards the pages in front of her. A look of concentration fell across her face, and after a few moments of silence where Levi simply watched her, her fingers pressed down on the keys in semi-practiced movements, and a lovely sound started to fill the air.

Occasionally she pressed a little too hard or too soon on a key, and the sound was thrown off, but Levi was aware that she was learning. Even though it threw him off in the moment, he was still enjoying listening to her play. He could see she was trying hard, and the practice was paying off. The sound was nice and beautiful, and it was gentle, like her.

He only moved when she asked him to turn the page for her. He had to stretch with care to make sure he didn’t get in her way, but he apparently timed it right, because her playing didn’t hitch because of missing notes.

After that, whenever they were inside and she wasn’t intent on having him try something else out, he asked her if there was anything new she’d learned to play on the piano. Every time, she would drag him into the living room like he’d hoped and they would sit down side by side on the bench while she played for him.

*Reader’s POV*

One of the great things about Levi whenever he showed up was how he was willing to listen. He wasn’t much of a talker, anyway, he never had been. But even though he didn’t speak, and there was a distance as time went by, it wasn’t out of indifference or coldness. He did listen to what you talked about, and considering he was able to recall stuff even from past conversations and ask the occasional meaningful question, you knew he was, in fact, paying attention.

Considering you didn’t have anyone to talk to with some of your interests, it was a breath of fresh air. Even with your parents, some of the things you tried to talk to them about, they started using the mechanical voice, the one that told you that they weren’t really paying attention because they were giving automatic, short responses. And the few people your age that bothered to spend time around you didn’t understand some of the things you wanted to talk about, or gave a blank look and then switched the subject to something else entirely.

With Levi, you could go into depth about rudimentary energy conversion, or basic natural science--the basic stuff taught in elementary science classes that you were developing a stronger and stronger interest in as time passed. Most of the people your age that you knew didn’t really care about science unless they got to see something with fire, something explode, or got to do an activity they could barely put any effort into and goof off for the rest of class.

Even if Levi didn’t understand everything you told him, he tried to. And what you could demonstrate or explain, you did, with Levi paying attention and trying to follow what you were saying to the best of his ability. If he seemed like he wasn’t interested, as you’d been worried a few times by wandering eyes or a general look of disinterest, he usually put those worries to rest with a well-formed question that showed he was paying attention.

When he did lose interest, or perhaps gave up on trying to follow something you were attempting to explain, he would change the subject to something else that you enjoyed. That way the topic was still something you enjoyed and wanted to share, even if it was no longer the one you’d previously been talking about.

Which you understood. It wasn’t for everyone, and he wasn’t going to be as enthusiastic about it as you, no matter how much you talked about or explained things to him. He still did far more than most people you knew, and listened nonetheless.

Though you did notice that one time you talked about studying the human body and naming bones and such, he was already surprisingly knowledgeable, and even helped you study and remember some things you were struggling with. Like remembering the names of bones and their spots in the human body. It wasn’t that you thought he was stupid, it was just that you’d gotten so used to having to explain most of the sciencey things you talked about, it through you for a loop when he was rather knowledgeable about it. Especially the specific parts he was knowledgeable about: arteries and the like.

But, whenever you started to get that worried, pondering look on your face and your mind started to wonder how he knew those kinds of things so well, he usually caught on and managed to direct your attention elsewhere, the touchy subject forgotten before you could dig too deep and realize something unpleasant.

*Levi’s POV*

Warmth trailed uncomfortably from Levi’s nose and down over his lips, his jacket hanging halfway down the arm that was still clutching the bloodied knife in a tight grip. His eyes weren’t on the almost unconscious man underneath him, but on the tan coat and wide brim hat that was quickly disappearing from sight without so much as a glance back in Levi’s direction. His lips parted, intending to call out to the man, but he disappeared entirely before he could gather the words.

Gone, just like that, without a word from either of them.

And something inside him told him he wasn’t coming back.

His grip slackened slightly on the knife, stunned and still staring in the direction Kenny had disappeared. His smug accomplishment at winning the fight he’d picked with the adult now below him disappeared entirely in the wake of on setting abandonment as the reality of what had just happened settled in, and Levi realized he was now alone in the Underground.

He blinked, and while the lighting didn’t change much, the smell in the air did. The man below him was gone, the ground was different beneath his feet, and the lighting, while still dark, wasn’t from the absence of light from a nonexistent sky. There was no ceiling again, just the trees up above him, and open night sky with the moon and stars glinting around him.

The surface.

Which meant…

He didn’t have to look far. He simply turned his head a little to the side, and there was the wooden playhouse he’d slept in several years ago. Sitting atop it was the familiar form of Y/N, though she was a little hunched over. At the sight of her, Levi instinctively hid his bloodied knife, taking a moment to wipe it off in the grass below him before he put it away where she wouldn’t see it.

Like the day he’d found her sitting on the steps after that incident at the school, there was shouting coming from the house, mainly a woman shouting. There were pauses in between, and if he listened hard enough, he could faintly make out the sound of a man’s voice replying. He couldn’t make out what either of them were saying, but whatever it was, he was sure it was the reason she was hunched over on top of the playhouse like a depressed bird.

Levi pulled out his handkerchief, and barely managed to get it to his nose to wipe away the blood when she finally noticed him. Her posture straightened slightly upon seeing him, though she definitely hunched back over to wipe at her face first before she turned to face him more fully.

“Are you alright? You’re bleeding,” she stated.

Of course concern for his well being was the first thing she said. She was always worrying over him, it seemed. Even when there was clearly something upsetting her, she asked about him, first.

“It’s nothing,” he answered, finished wiping away the blood and secretly hoping it wouldn’t continue to bleed so she wouldn’t continue to fuss over something that equated a scratch for him. He was probably going to look a little rough no matter what he did, considering he was literally just in a fight.

As Levi walked over to the playhouse, Y/N leaned down and fixed his jacked, pulling the shoulder up from his elbow and back where it belonged before Levi could shrug her off and fix it himself. He didn’t need her fussing over him like a mother, because she wasn’t.

Partially sulking, and nowhere near wanting to talk about his own problems right now, Levi decided to draw her attention away from him again as he leaned his back against the side of the playhouse that was now too small for both of them to fit inside.

“You’re upset. What’s going on?” Levi asked, head inclined back towards the house for clarity since they could still hear voices from inside.

Y/N shrank again, and Levi’s gaze settled steadily on her once again. “My dad’s going back overseas,” she said quietly. Levi’s brow furrowed at the mention of overseas, no idea what she was talking about or what that was even supposed to mean. Context clues told him her dad was leaving again.

There seemed to be a lot of that going around right now.

“They’re fighting about it because apparently my dad’s already done his required military service. He doesn’t need to go back, but he is,” she clarified just as softly. “Mom’s insisting that he doesn’t love us enough to stay, and he wouldn’t go if he did.”

Levi looked away as she got especially quiet, and he suspected she might be shedding more tears. At the same time, Kenny’s retreating back flashed through his mind. Sure, Kenny didn’t love him, Levi wasn’t an idiot, he knew that much. But he’d thought, at the very least...well, he hadn’t expected to get abandoned in the street like that. And he felt betrayed because of it.

As much as he thought this would be a good distraction from his harsh reality like it usually was, this was just echoing his own pain right now, and he hated it, a muscle twitching in his jaw as his teeth ground together, and a bit of resentful anger starting to bud inside him towards a man he hadn’t met for making Y/N feel a similar sense of abandonment.

“She’s wrong, though.”

Or maybe not.

Levi looked up in surprise at Y/N’s entire change of tone, which went from small, timid, and hurt to firm determination with a bit of fire he hadn’t seen from her before peeking through. It wasn’t at all what he had expected from her, and she wasn’t done, either, wiping away residual tears as she continued to speak in that firm tone. The way she spoke, it was easy to tell she was venting out frustration that her mother didn’t understand this.

“I know he loves us. Just because he’s going away for a while doesn’t mean he hates us or anything. He’s going because he needs to protect people, it’s what he does, and it’s the right thing to do. It’s scary when he’s gone, and it hurts, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love us.”

Levi watched her as she smoothed her hair back with both hands, taking a deep breath before she hopped off the playhouse. He straightened up from his previous position leaning against the playhouse, but before either of them said anything, she suddenly wrapped both of her arms tightly around him. Levi stiffened, pain flaring up in his side where he’d been hit during that fight, hands starting to rise to push her off him in an instinctual reaction, but she was attached to him like a leech, and as his hands met her sides to push her off…

“Thank you for being my friend, Levi,” she murmured into his ear, and Levi paused.

Hesitantly, Levi returned the hug, his hands finding a place on her back as she clung tightly to him. She was warm, and it was comforting to be held like this again since…

Well...he didn’t want to think of how long it had been. Already he felt a slight burn in his eyes, a mess of emotions trying to bubble up and out of his chest as he clung tightly to Y/N in return, wrestling with himself to keep it under control. The hug felt good, but he could tell he was trembling, and with how tightly they were holding one another, surely she could tell as well.

Y/N’s arms loosened slightly, and she started to pull back in concern. “Levi, are you all right?”

Cursing himself for the outward display of weakness the whole time, Levi hugged her a little tighter in response, which gave her enough of a hint that she stopped trying to pull away. Instead, she secured her arms around him again in that comfort he suddenly realized he craved. Every moment he wasn’t here on the surface, he craved the clean air, the warmth of the sun, the energy that oozed off of her and helped lift his spirits, as well as the security he felt while he was here.

If only he had the security of staying. If only he wasn’t so sure that he would simply flicker away again, like every other time. If only this existence didn’t keep slipping through his fingertips like a mirage lost in fog.

If only people stopped flickering out of his life...like Kenny just had.

“Why do people leave?”

The words slipped past his lips before he could get control of himself again, and he cursed his stupidity. Why did people leave--it was a stupid question he already knew the answer to. Because the world was cruel and harsh, full of death and destruction that took without a care, with people that were just as cruel and destructive. And sometimes, when it seemed like people cared...well, he knew better now. Already he was forming another wall to try and keep people out before they could wreak that kind of damage on him again when they left.

Y/N, while she didn’t give him an answer--maybe she didn’t have one, considering her more sheltered existence--still gave him something to hold to. Though he wasn’t sure how concrete the promise really was, considering how they kept fluttering through each other's lives.

“I won’t leave, Levi. Not really. I’ll always be here when you need me most,” she promised, her words muffled since her face was still buried in his shoulder thanks to the hug. “I’m usually here waiting and looking for you to come back, anyway. You’re the only real friend that’s stayed with me so far.”

*Reader’s POV*

“What nonsense have you cooked up this time?”

By now you were done being surprised by Levi’s sudden appearances. If they hadn’t started when you were so young, perhaps this wouldn’t be normal to you, and you would wonder how he got into your house and in your room on the second floor without a sound or alerting your parents, but it had never occurred to you to ask those questions in the past, and before enough time passed for you to start asking those kinds of questions, it became normal for you. With Levi’s appearances being normal, you no longer thought it odd.

Not even looking up, you gestured to the chessboard on one side of you and the halfway finished game of solitaire on the other side. “I got grounded for lying, so I’m trying to entertain myself. Thought I would try to play some card games. Or practice some chess.”

For once, Levi didn’t look completely lost as he took a seat across from you in between the two games. It was like you had at long last spoken a language he understood, his eyes flickering between the stalemate on the chessboard and the game of solitaire you were too stubborn to admit defeat with.

It was a little difficult to play against yourself when you knew your opponent self’s every next move.

Levi’s eyes flickered around the room, probably noting the lack of...well, lots of things. Most of the stuff you usually played with. No video games, or movies, or music, or even books. You’d dragged this out of the family game chest for something to do. You weren’t even allowed friends over for a little while. It was your mother’s way of putting the pressure on you to stop lying and tell the truth.

“It must have been a pretty big lie,” Levi commented as his eyes returned to you. His comment earned a bitter snort from you, especially at the dark humor you found in him saying that.

“I wasn’t lying. Just, no one believes me,” you said with a sigh, glancing up at him before you shook away the depressing thoughts. Levi wasn’t always here, and when he was, you never knew how long he would be here. Every time he showed up, you had to make the most of it.

“Come on, this will be much more fun if you play a few games with me. Chess or cards? I am ready to teach,” you said excitedly, leaning forward and planting your palms on the ground as you came closer with a wide smile, gazing at him expectantly as you waited for him to choose.

“I know a few games,” Levi said, nodding towards the cards. You immediately brightened. Could you get right to playing games for once?

“Which ones do you know? War, slapjack, blackjack, rummy, go fish, poker--well, I don’t know how to actually play some of those, I just know they’re card games.”

Levi shrugged. “Basic gambling games. Like poker and blackjack.” A blush started to creep up in your cheeks as you realized he knew the games you didn’t know how to play. His sharp eyes didn’t miss the expression, and a first finally happened between you. “I can teach you.”

You nodded sheepishly, watching as Levi gathered up the cards that had made up your solitaire game and shuffled the cards, starting to explain how to play poker to you as he handled the cards. You never heard him talk longer than short sentences, so hearing him talk about something at length was new for you, and it was your turn to listen to him with quiet attention. He had a rather soothing voice. Steady and fairly low--at least for a boy his age--and occasionally he said his words like a sigh. It gave him a general carefree feel as you listened. If you had been tired, he probably could have lulled you off to sleep just listening to him. It helped that you were paying avid attention to give him the same respect he gave you when you were talking about things you were interested in.

Even though poker was usually played with more people, you and Levi played a mock version of it with CheezIts you swindled from downstairs. Needless to say, Levi was a little...too good at playing poker. For the life of you, you couldn’t read him while playing the game, which meant he won every time. Eventually, you got pouty. Sure, your dad never /let/ you win when you played chess with him to teach you how to really play, but this was ridiculous. At least you could take a few chess pieces off the board with your dad. This was just--just--

You huffed as Levi scooped the pile of CheezIts towards himself once more, looking mildly annoyed at the orange dust he kept having to wipe off his hands as they played. “You’re too good at this game.”

“You’re not good at hiding your expressions. You’re an open book. And you have lots of tells,” he returned bluntly, shuffling the deck once more.

Was he smiling? You could have sworn he just smirked, but it was gone before you could be sure. Dang it! You had to do something to get back at him or this was going to drive you crazy.

“Bah, enough poker for today. I at least know the basics of how to play now. Maybe we could do some chess?” you asked hopefully. Chess was something you knew but he didn’t. You’d have the advantage again. Hopefully you’d be able to beat him a few times and it would satiate your desire for a few victories.

Levi simply sat aside the cards after shuffling them, coming over to the chess board as you set it up. “You’ll have to explain this one,” he said softly, gaze roaming over the starting positions of all the pieces to commit them to memory.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it pretty quickly,” you said cheerfully before you started explaining how each piece got to move and the goal of the game.

It was a nice respite from an undeserved punishment while it lasted.

*Levi’s POV*

For once, he found an upside to living underground, as when he appeared outside, he was almost instantly drenched in an unpleasant feeling with humid, hot air and the sun beating down on him, making him cover his eyes entirely and re-expose himself to the bright sunlight little at a time. At the same time, he shrugged off his jacket, pushing hair out of his face and looking around with a squint for Y/N. She had to be close, she always was.

“Levi!”

Levi turned at the sound of her voice, spotting her as she came out of her house pushing something slender with two wheels along with her, waving her hand excitedly with a fancy bag slung across her chest from shoulder to waist. She hurried over to him, hands guiding the wheels in the proper direction as she approached. She kicked out a metal bar and let the slender thing prop up on it when she reached him.

“I was just going to the store to get some treats--do you want to come?” she asked cheerfully.

“Might as well,” Levi mumbled, his jacket draped over his arm now, though he was considering using it to give himself some shade.

“You can put your jacket in my bike basket, and...um…” She frowned, turning back to look at the bike with a thoughtful look. There was only one weird looking seat, and he was certain both of them were not going to fit on it. “Well, I haven’t done it before, but you can try riding on the handlebars. Or I can try it, if you know how to ride a bike,” she said, looking back at Levi, who was already shaking his head no in response to the upcoming question.

“Handlebars it is,” she said with a nod, swinging her leg over the bike to get situated on the seat and kicking that bar of metal back, balancing the bike on the two tires. Levi put his jacket in the basket at the front, and then hesitated, looking at the way she balanced on the bike and the slender bar with her hands on either end.

This was not going to end well…

“Come on, it’s not that hard. I don’t think so, anyway. And I’m right behind you to keep you from slipping. It might take a few tries while I figure out how to balance with two people, but we’ll figure it out. It would be easier if I had bike pegs, but I don’t, so…”

Here goes nothing, Levi thought, turning his back to her and putting his hands just inside hers on the handlebars before he jumped up and back, partially landing on his hands. Y/N moved her hands to the very edge, allowing Levi to get his hands out from underneath him and move them off to the side as his ass hung over the edge of the bike. Her chest was pressed against his back as she leaned forward, though, giving him a bit of stability like she said as she leaned forward, head peeking around his shoulder so she could see. Levi kept a tight grip on the bike as she shifted from foot to foot, trying to figure out the balance and keep them from tipping over--something Levi felt happening every time she tried to lift her feet. She was going to make him a nervous wreck if she kept--

Instead of trying to lift her feet again, Y/N just started walking them forward slowly, getting the wheels to start moving instead of trying to balance in place. As they started heading down the brown stone walkway, Levi wondered why she didn’t just move onto the wider black stone street that looked like it would give them more room for error than this narrow brown stone path.

As they started to pick up speed, Y/N suddenly took her feet off the ground again--which Levi knew, because the bike wobbled. “Hold on!” she told him, which was entirely unnecessary--his knuckles were white on the bars as they started to go faster with a push he could feel, and the bike wobbled and veered from side to side as Y/N attempted to steer while Levi had the better grasp on the handlebars. Eventually they managed to find a sort of arrangement, and they were steering mostly in tandem, Levi feeling what direction she was trying to move the handlebars and watching the narrow path in front of them to see what direction they needed to go in order to avoid crashing into something. As they picked up speed and Y/N adjusted to what they were trying to do, the ride grew smoother, the wobbling stopped for the most part, and Levi was able to relax. Mostly.

As they navigated the streets in their precarious arrangement, Levi had to blink sweat out of his eyes and squint against the wind, Y/N occasionally switching which of his sides she was peering around as they continued to go down the path at a speed that he occasionally wondered if she had complete control over. He kept worrying she was going to accidentally swerve into something, or wasn’t going to be able to slow down before taking a corner and they would lose balance.

Finally, finally, she started to slow them down, and skidded to a stop in front of a red brick building with a glass and metal door. Inside he could see bright light from a light source other than fire that he wasn’t familiar with, and a cacophony of brightly colored packages on rows of shelves. Levi hopped off the bike and looked inside with cautious curiosity as Y/N moved the bike over to the wall and lowered that metal bar again, leaning the bike next to the wall out of the way before she approached him.

“I have enough money I’ve saved up to get us some soda and candy, or ice cream. Since it’s hot out, I think ice cream would be better,” she mused as she pulled open the door, letting him go in first.

And she was speaking gibberish again. Well, for the most part. He didn’t know what the soda or ice cream was, but he of course knew what candy was, though he usually didn’t bother with it because it was such a luxury, and that money could be spent on more important things.

And here the difference between him as the Underground dweller and her as the surface dweller was glaring.

There was a man behind a counter off to their left as Y/N came in behind him, a man who immediately eyed Levi was a narrowed look as he took in his ragged appearance and (current) lack of a coin purse or a bag. When Y/N bounded in with her clean-cut appearance and bag that obviously had money in it though, the dirty look eased, though Levi could still feel the man watching him to make sure he didn’t steal anything.

Y/N dragged him towards the back where there were more glass doors keeping certain products inside, with strangely shaped bottles and other containers with more bright colors. “I’m thinking we can choose a drink, and an ice cream, and we can have some over at the conservation site we went to that one time! Wait, no, the ice cream will melt by then...we can have the ice cream as soon as we get outside!” she amended as she brought him to a stop in the back in front of the wall of completely foreign foodstuffs. Levi looked blankly at everything in front of him, completely lost on what he should get. Hell, he’d never even seen half of the materials this place was made out of. He was used to wooden buildings and shelves, to dirt or clay walls with the occasional stone structure, firelight or darkness. He didn’t even seen any flames in this place, yet it was as bright in here as outside, but with more...artificial colors. This place was different enough he was unsettled by it, and he honestly wanted to leave as soon as possible so he could be back somewhere that felt more...comfortable or familiar.

“You haven’t had soda or ice cream before, have you?” Y/N asked, deflating a little as she asked it and realization flashed in her eyes. Levi shook his head, and she turned back to the wall of product with a slight frown, hands on her hips. “Well...what kinds of foods or drinks do you like? I like the really chocolatey stuff, or the fruity stuff. Mom’s always telling me to have less because there’s so much sugar in it.”

“I don’t have a lot of sugar,” Levi said quietly. Too much, and he might get a stomach ache, so he’d like to stay away from something packed full with sugar like she was claiming.

“You probably don’t want soda, then. It’s super sugary and bubbly.”

Well that last part just made him curious…

“Or you can start with something lighter, like Sprite, or ginger ale...or you can have lemonade instead…”

At this point she was just talking to herself, pulling open the door in front of them to start picking up and looking at the bottles. Levi shivered at the surprising blast of cold air, suddenly wishing he had his jacket as she held the door open, continuing to look at the bottles. Levi’s head was on a gradual swivel, taking in the sight of all the different colored packages around him and trying to figure out what everything was. This was nothing like the Underground, it was the exact opposite. He didn’t even recognize anything in here--so far, anyway. You would think they were from entirely different worlds.

“How about this--I’ll get a lemonade and a Sprite, I’ll let you try the Sprite, and if you don’t like it, I’ll just take the Sprite and you can have the lemonade,” she said, handing the two bottles to him and shutting the door, relieving him of that cold that would have been refreshing if it had been brief instead of constantly bombarding him while she held the door open.

The bottles weren’t made of glass, like he would have expected. He had no idea what this was, and he watched the bubbling drink and the yellow drink slosh around inside as she pulled them up to the counter. He was momentarily distracted and forgot she’d mentioned she was getting something else, but was now dragging them over to pay.

“I’d like to buy these two drinks, and two ice cream cones, please!” she said, leaning up against the counter on her tip-toes with Levi just behind her holding the drinks. The man glanced skeptically at Levi again, who just gazed steadily back at him in silence, the two bottles held tightly in his hands. He looked at the boxey...thing, in front of him, touched a few things that made strange noises to Levi, and then turned back to Y/N with a polite smile.

“That’ll be six seventy-four, little missy.”

Y/N dug around in her back, pulling out one faded green paper looking thing, and then another, and then reached back in to pull out a handful of coins, pushing them around in her hand and placing nine coins on the counter, pushing them over to him and dumping the rest into her bag.

“There you go,” she said as the man counted back over what she’d handed him, then put it in a drawer with a nod.

“Go ahead and get your ice cream,” he said, nodding down towards some strange thing at the end of the counter.

Y/N took the bottles from Levi and placed them in her bag, heading over to the thing at the end of the counter, grabbing yet another thing Levi didn’t recognize that was in a cone shape and dark brown, and she reached up and pulled down on a lever. Something thick and light brown came out, with Y/N’s tongue sticking out as she tried carefully to layer it before she pulled the lever back up, stopping the flow and handing it over to Levi.

“That one’s mine, don’t eat it. It might be too sugary for you,” she said before grabbing another cone and doing the same thing at a different spot. This time what came out was clear white, and she managed to be a little neater with what she was doing before she handed that one to Levi and took the brown one from him.

“Have a nice day,” the man called automatically as they passed the counter for the door.

“You too!” Y/N called, and then they left, re-entering the heat of the outside world.

Levi simply stared at the treat she’d put in his hands, seeing it start to glisten in the sun and able to feel how surprisingly cold it was. Like those red things she’d given him that one time. Beside him, Y/N started licking hers, apparently doing so in a very specific way to try and keep it from melting past her fingers, since she had to catch a few drops that started to trickle past the edge. Levi hesitantly followed suit, unsure if it was something he would like...

It was freezing cold, and sweet, but not so much that he pulled back. It tasted...well...he wasn’t sure how to describe it. It was good, though. And once more, he found himself associating something he was experiencing on the surface with clean because oddly enough that was the best he could do for describing the ice cream, as she’d called it.

Following her lead on how to eat it and knowing better than to bite into it after his experience with the red frozen treat, the two of them leaned against the wall and ate their ice cream until all that was left was the cone. Apparently that was an edible thing, since she crunched right through it and quickly ate it, too. It tasted similar to a cookie, actually, as he ate it. Not sweet like the ice cream, and a nice crunchy compliment.

When they were done with their ice cream, Y/N retrieved her bike, wheeling it around so it was facing the direction they’d come from. “All right--to the conservation site,” she said cheerfully, finding her balance on the bike again as Levi grumbled under his breath, reluctantly resuming the position on the handlebars.

Next time she better come up with a better way to travel, because he wasn’t too keen on this arrangement.

Their wobbly trip was longer this time, and more laborious considering this time she had to bike them up a hill this time, which she gave up on not even halfway through when she almost veered and lost balance while trying to struggle up the hill.

“All right, this isn’t going to work, we’re walking up this hill,” she huffed, waiting for Levi to hop off before she got off as well, walking beside the bike and guiding it by the handlebars.

“Well, at least most of the distance was easier to cover,” she said with a sigh, reaching into her pack and handing him the Sprite bottle as they reached the crest of the hill. It was somewhat nostalgic, coming back up here, with the memory of the long grass, the meadow and the pond with the berries and the wildlife. The only thing that was missing was slightly more forgiving weather and her carrying him, which he wasn’t about to let her do since he was perfectly capable of walking himself this time.

“I can actually swim, now, so we could jump in the pond. Mom wouldn’t be too happy with me getting my clothes wet, but it would be fun!” she suggested cheerfully.

“I can’t swim,” Levi returned bluntly. He’d most likely just be watching her bob around the entire time if she went through with that.

“Dang it...well, we can just stick our feet in the water, again, then,” she said, easily brushing off the disappointment as they crested the hill and she guided her bike off to the side into the rocks. Kicking the metal bar to lean it against again, she left it on the side of the road, pushing aside grass that wasn’t as tall as he remembered and gesturing for him to follow her once more to the pond.

Just like they had before, they dangled their feet in the water, and Levi took the chance to clean up any traces of ice cream that might have lingered on his face and wash away any dirt on his person. Meanwhile, Y/N was simply playing with the bottle of lemonade, watching him and waiting expectantly for him to try the Sprite so she knew if they had to switch drinks or not. Once Levi felt relatively clean, he followed the instructions of the little white arrows painted on top of the lid and twisted it open, hearing the bottle hiss at him as the air escaped and the drink inside bubbled drastically before settling down again. He glanced at Y/N, who was still waiting for him to try it, and, based off his past experience of trying the foods and drinks she gave him, started small with a little sip.

He pulled back a bit from the bottle, unsure how he felt about it. It was clear and sharp and refreshing, but the bubbles...well, he wasn’t used to his drinks being fizzy, and it threw him off. Maybe he would adjust to it? He’d probably ask for something more normal if they did this again, though.

Seeing that Levi was keeping his bottle, Y/N happily started on her own drink, taking big gulps before putting the lid back on and throwing herself back on the ground with a pleased sigh.

“I love summer,” she said, eyes closed as she soaked in the heat from the sun’s rays. Levi stayed quiet, watching the birds across the pond hoping around and pecking at the ground in search of bugs or worms. The water rippled occasionally from small fish coming close to the surface, and the breeze ruffled his hair and cooled him down slightly from the heat of the sun. He felt like a little kid again, looking around at a bright and new world.

Well, technically he still was a kid, but really, he’d grown up a long time ago. Yet every time he came up here...he felt like a kid again. And he felt much lighter and carefree. It just made him all the more determined to find his way to the surface.

*Reader’s POV*

It was dark and damp in the place that you were hiding, your sobbing echoing around the large metal tube and a small trickle of water at the bottom getting parts of your pants and shoes wet. It smelled musty and terrible down here, and you’d be colder if it wasn’t for the medium sized dog that was pressed against your side and partially in your lap. Your greyhound black lab Sabrina was attempting to comfort you, giving a few licks on your cheeks.

It was the middle of the night, and you were tucked away in a storm drain, cold night air whistling down the tunneled space. You’d been down here for a while now, and you didn’t know what to do. You were lost, practically alone, hungry, and scared, and it was your own doing.

Footsteps echoed down the storm drain, splashing water with each step, and you scrambled to your feet, ready to bolt from the stranger in the drain.

“Why are you down here?”

You relaxed considerably at the familiar voice, wiping the tears from your face as he drew close enough for you to make out features in the dim light provided by your flashlight. “Levi?” you said with another sniffle. Sabrina got on all fours and put herself between you and the stranger, starting to growl and causing Levi to pause before you pet her head and neck to calm her down and told her to sit and settle. She calmed down and allowed Levi to draw closer, though he was much more careful now.

You were still mid distraught crying, but he’d asked what was happening, and this was your chance to ask for some help and get what was happening off of your chest. After a few more sniffles and wiping at your tears to get yourself under control enough you could speak again, you attempted to explain what you were doing crying in a storm drain with a dog in the middle of the night.

“My parents are splitting up. I want to stay with my dad, but I’m going with my mom cause I’m apparently too young to decide. And I thought...I thought if I-I ran away…” God, now that you were saying it out loud, you could hear how stupid this whole idea had been. “That they might get back together while they were looking for me,” you finished in a very small voice.

You’d done it in a distraught panic, honestly. Clearly you didn’t have enough food smuggled into your backpack, because you were already out of food. You’d at least thought protection, which ended up coming in the form of Sabrina and a tiny pocket knife you got from your grandfather a year ago. Now you were here with five bucks, a dog, a pocket knife, no food, no blankets or pillows, a stuffed animal, a book, a game, and the feeling that you were absolutely--

“Are you stupid?”

You blinked in surprise when you heard Levi say it aloud, immediately blushing and hiding your face in shame as he said the very thing you’d come to realize but hadn’t wanted to admit out loud. This whole idea had been a stupid plan, and you’d executed it horribly, resulting in this mess.

“For someone so smart, it was stupid thinking running away was going to solve your problem,” he continued to scold you, coming to a stop just beside you and looking down on you with you could only assume to be some harsh judgment. “All running from your problems is going to do is make things worse. Your parents aren’t going to magically get back together because you’re missing. They’ll likely fight more.”

You hated how right he was. They were probably blaming each other, if you knew them well enough. This was really something you should have thought through before bolting when you did. You were curling into yourself with every word he said, and as much as you hated hearing him say it, you knew he was right, and he had a point. You never should have tried running from your problems. You should have tried to say something and made them listen. Running was only making things worse for everyone.

You felt his foot kick you--not hard enough to be mean or painful, but enough to get you to move and look up at him, tear streaks still on your face. “Are you going to sit there feeling sorry for yourself, or are you going to get up and head home?”

You wiped your face one more time, getting shakily to your feet. Your dog followed suit, standing expectantly at your side as you gathered your mostly empty bag. You didn’t have anything else, so you were ready for a walk of shame back home. There was only one problem.

“I don’t know how to get there. I got lost. And...and I’ve overheard Mom and Dad talking about a white van going around taking kids, so...That’s why I’ve been down here. Once I didn’t know where I was,” you said in a quiet voice Suddenly very aware of the terrible situation you’d put yourself in.

Levi was staring hard at you. His expression was blank, and he was still, but you could see him processing the information and deciding what to do next. Suddenly, he reached out and grasped your wrist, pulling you forward and towards the mouth of the storm drain.

“Standing around feeling sorry for yourself won’t get you anywhere,” he muttered, dragging you along with Sabrina following on her leash. “You can recognize the area your house is in, right?”

You nodded hesitantly. Moving to the suburbs had its drawbacks. No more were you surrounded by diverse streets, houses, and buildings--everything here was uniform, with rows of streets and houses that looked identical to you.

But what he said about feeling sorry about yourself was also right. So instead of thinking of what you couldn’t do, you wracked your brain for what you could do. You knew the name of the section of houses you stayed in, and what the park looked like, and the number on your house. You could also recognize one of the biking paths that ran along the edge of the housing area. So you had some landmarks you could recognize. If all else failed, there was the pool center or the school that you could recognize without hesitation, and if you waited long enough there, maybe someone could get you home. You knew your phone number. You had options.

Levi got you both to the mouth of the storm drain, and he stopped, staring at the sight in front of him. The last time you’d seen Levi, you’d been living on the east coast. Now you were in the southwest, and you’d gone from a lush green temperate climate to the desert. It was like he’d never seen the desert and was trying to process the entire change of terrain.

“Where the hell…”

Now he was the one just standing there, and you realized that if you’d still been living where you had before, he’d be able to recognize streets and houses and the like as well. He hadn’t been here before--this was all new to him. He was even more lost than you were. At least he was still making an effort.

You tugged him towards the slopes behind you. “That’s definitely not the right way. We have to go back to the houses,” you said, the two of you struggling up the steep slope and back onto the bike path you’d been following aimlessly before ending up here. You hesitated there, swinging your flashlight both ways before choosing to go left. “I’m pretty sure I came from this way. We can follow it until I recognize one of the town names.”

*Levi’s POV*

Levi let Y/N tell him where he needed to go, considering this was an entirely new area to him. He hadn’t even heard of barren land like this above ground, with just sand stretching out as far as the eye could see, and everything in earthen shades. It was completely different from where she’d been living previously, yet she didn’t seem phased by the strange sights. So, Levi tried to ignore the oddity of the landscape and let her give any signals for where they needed to go as needed. However, he stayed in the lead, holding tightly to her wrist with one hand as she crowded close to him, her dog trailing right behind her as they walked with their sides almost pressed up against one another.

Her comment about kids being taken in the area had him even more on edge than he would have been. Already he was keeping his head on a swivel and his eyes peeled since they were two kids traveling alone at night in a strange place, but her piece of information had his free hand consistently hovering near where he kept his knife on him. At the first sign of trouble, he was ready to draw it to protect her, but he was keeping it concealed for now in order to keep from panicking Y/N. She was already distraught enough over her situation, he didn’t want to upset her anymore. Even now, he could feel her burying her face in his shoulder to try and hide a fresh wave of tears. He didn’t say a word about it, continuing to guide them steadily forward along their path despite the tension in the air.

He still couldn’t believe she’d been foolish enough to get herself in this situation. He’d known she was a little...naïve about the more dangerous parts of the world, but this was just…

Levi let out a soft sigh, reconsidering his stance on popping the protective bubble she seemed to be secured inside. If naivety was going to lead to her doing something like this, maybe she needed a bit of a wake up call. Horrible people lurked in dark places at night, and she was an easy target. He wasn’t, but she was, and she was lucky she hadn’t been snatched in the time she’d been out by herself.

Right now wasn’t the time to disrupt that little protective bubble, though. She was scared enough, shaking and crying as she clung to his arm, the hand he had on her wrist giving it a small squeeze of reassurance in the hopes that it might help calm her down.

They followed the path long enough Levi started to worry that she had no idea where they were still, and was simply leading them even further away from her home. Eventually, though, she pulled on Levi’s arm to get his attention, bringing him to a stop a few paces away from a fork that they had passed that the other path had twisted into an opening in a stone fence that led to rows and rows of identical houses.

“I recognize that name,” she said, pointing towards the words scrawled on a sign just in front of the entrance. “It’s not the area I live in, but it’s close,” she commented, looking far more attentively around the area.

“How close?”

“I think...one over from where my house is. There should be another section that starts with C, and then it’ll be mind. If I can find the park, I’ll know the way home,” she said.

Good, then they were heading the right way.

Levi urged her forward, surprised by how...quiet it was out here. Besides their footsteps, he didn’t really hear any other sounds. Maybe the occasional voice from someone outside their home late at night, or a closing door, but he wasn’t hearing much in the way of wildlife like he would where Y/N had lived before. The loudest thing was their footsteps, which was a little disconcerting.

“You’re not going to do something stupid like this again, are you?” Levi asked as they continued to walk. He just wanted to make sure what he’d said got through her head, and she would know better from now on.

She nodded emphatically at his side, holding a little tighter to him as they continued forward. Well, hopefully she /would/ be a little smarter about this kind of thing in the future. Time would tell.

They continued their trip in relative silence besides Y/N’s occasional sniffles, with Levi staying protectively in front of her the entire way until at long last, after finding their way to the park she’d mentioned, they turned onto the street she said her house was on. There was one of those horseless carriages in front of the house she said was hers, a stark white one with blue markings and something red and blue and clear on top. On either side of the carriage was two men in black uniforms having some solemn discussion over the top of the low carriage. The sight made Y/N shrink beside him, and for a moment, Levi thought it might be trouble. Before he could draw his knife, she spoke up.

“My parents must have called the police,” she mumbled, the embarrassment clear in her voice.

He was pretty sure that wasn’t the uniform of the Military Police, but she didn’t seem to be panicked over the sight of them, just embarrassed and shrinking into herself. He still stayed on guard as they drew closer, the two men noticing them as they drew closer.

“Are you kids lost?” one of them asked while Y/N was still mostly hidden by Levi standing in front of her. However, she stepped out enough to be seen with Sabrina trailing behind her, her cheeks burning red as she spoke in a voice so quiet Levi thought the two might not have heard her at first.

“I live here,” she mumbled.

“Y/N L/N?” the other one asked as they both straightened, getting a better look at her as they drew just a little closer. She nodded, and her grip on Levi’s arm loosened slightly as she moved hesitantly forward, pulling the dog along with her. The two men approached, and Levi tensed, expecting trouble. “Your parents have been worried sick, where have you…”

Y/N pulled out of his grip, apparently perfectly fine with the two strangers in front of her house. Maybe surface police looked different? That didn’t make any sense to him, but she seemed pretty sure, no hesitation as she approached them. For a moment, as Y/N pulled free of Levi’s grip and both of the officers got on either side of her to make sure she was all right and take her inside, their backs were to Levi, only for a moment. But that moment was all it took. In a moment that was becoming quite familiar to him, Levi blinked, and the scene disappeared, and he was standing in the middle of the street in the Underground.

This, he wasn’t okay with. He didn’t even get to see her safely through the door to her home, didn’t even get to make sure those men really were safe. What if they hadn’t been? What if they had been kidnappers or something worse? What if he’d just left her in more danger than he’d found her? He didn’t know enough about the surface to feel confident that she was going to be all right until she walked through the door to her home, and he didn’t get that luxury.

He was going to be worried sick about her until he saw her again, which, hopefully, would be soon. He had to know she was all right.

Levi’s gaze was drawn to one of the stairwells to the surface, and his gaze intensified, expression contemplative.

Perhaps, for once, he could find his way to the surface and look for her himself. If he was careful, he might be able to stay out of reach of the military police above ground long enough to find where she lived. He knew what it looked like now.

But first he had to get up that stairway...

Next Chapter---->

(Strikethroughs Couldn’t Be Tagged)

Tags: @humanitys-hottestsoldier @artist-bby @kaz2y5-pie @tartheyes @super-peace-fangirl @huntersbunker @nefelimalfoy @soft-levi-girl-blog @honeygivemeachainsaw @regalillegal @sugas-daddy7 @cathyannecookie @chaoticshepardplaid

Levi Tags: @clary-quinn

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random-mha-thoughts · 4 years

Text

Bad Boy (Todoroki x Reader)

Pairing: Todoroki x Reader

Genre: Angst to fluff, and a lil spice ;), No quirk!AU

Summary: You finally get to see your childhood friend Shouto after years of being separated only to find out he’s completely changed.

BGM: “Younger” by Ruel

Word count: 2,781

Tags: @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog @bunnythepipsqueak

a/n: God this photo fucked me up good when I first saw it.

I saw this picture on my search for images for my last Todo post aaaaand yeah, pretty self explanatory. I got to thinking, what if this poor baby finally snapped one day and was like "FUCK ENDEAVOR AND HIS ENTIRE PROGRAM, IM NOBODY'S MASTERPIECE" and he went the complete opposite direction. So enjoy a little bit of OOC Todoroki and a bit of a longer post than my usual stuff!

I’m really really sorry about not updating in the past few days. I was really swamped by college work and studying, and I was mentally exhausted and physically tired every day. Today wasn’t my day and I almost had a breakdown because a lot of things piled up in me, but I had to pull myself together somehow. Hopefully, after this week, I’ll go back to a somewhat regular posting schedule. Thanks for being patient with me guys, I really appreciate it :)

When my mom told me Shouto will be going to the same high school as me, I was expecting the same buttoned-up, shy, good boy from elementary school. Oh boy, was I wrong.

The boy I bump into in the hallway definitely looks like Shouto, but the only thing that's the same is his mismatched hair and eyes. Everything else about him was much different. His entire energy was different, even from the fraction of a second I focused on his face.

"Shouto?" I call when he's about to brush past me.

I don't think he's expecting someone to know him on the first day, pausing and looking down curiously.

The most shocking feature of all is the scar on his left side, a red blotch that covers the left side of his face, starkly contrasting his brilliant turquoise eye; a single ray of light in a scarlet sky.

As I'm gaping at the puckered skin, his eyebrows furrowing at my face as recognition slowly dawns on him. "(Y/n)?"

I'm relieved that he at least remembers me. "Yeah, hey." I don't really know what to do now. My first instinct is to hug him, but something tells me he isn't a fan of that sort of thing anymore. There's a coldness between us that's thick as a knife. "How have you been?"

"Fine," he answers curtly. His hands are stuffed into his pockets, leaning back in a way that seems uncharacteristic of him and more like a ruffian.

Does his not want to talk to me? I don't blame him, I haven't been in his life for a good eight years. "How are your parents?"

His jaw clenches. "Fine."

Oh. I struck a nerve. "Do you wanna catch up at lunch? What class are you in?"

"1-A." Overjoyed that we share the same class, I'm about to open my mouth, but he interjects, "But I don't think we should talk." That was the last thing he said before he strolls past me.

I'm stunned, following his receding back through the sea of students. I guess I shouldn't have brought up his parents when I know it's a sensitive topic, but I didn't know what else to say. And it's probably awkward to see someone you used to be close to talk to you again, but the least he could've been is polite. That's saying something, because Shouto was always the polite child.

Something is terribly wrong here.

Shouto has definitely changed since we were younger. He's become a delinquent.

He never even shows up to class. After our little encounter, he was slumped in his seat until the teacher finished role call, then he just got up and walked out in the middle of class and never came back. In all the days after that, his seat remained empty even at the beginning of the day.

At first, I gave him the benefit of the doubt. What if he happened to get sick and had to stay home? Then I saw his signature mismatched tuft of hair walking back home in the school yard, and I knew he was skipping.

After a whole two weeks passed of him skipping, I had enough. The Shouto I know would never cut class even if his life depended on it. During lunch, I went looking for him in the group of other delinquent kids in the back of the school.

"Todoroki?" the ash-blond ringleader ruffles his hair and scoffs, "Idiot must be off somewhere by himself like the damn loner he is. He picked a fight with me and I almost beat his ass into oblivion!"

I ball my fists up, more angry at Shouto than the group of boys eyeing me like a pack of wolves. "You guys are useless," I mumble, about to turn away from them.

"Aww, is he your boyfriend, sweetie?" the honey blond with a black streak in his hair smoothly wraps an arm around me. "He probably doesn't care about you, you deserve someone else who'll give you his time."

"Fuck off, who said you can touch me?" I shove his arm away and step back.

"Calm down there," the red head with sharp teeth taunts with a smirk, "You're getting a bit defensive. You sure you don't need help looking for your little prince?"

"I'm fine on my own, thanks," I huff, turning around to go look for Shouto elsewhere.

"Maybe I'll come with you," the overly-friendly boy blocks my way again. "If he's not your boyfriend, maybe we can get together sometime?"

"Not interested. Out of my way, Pikachu reject." I try to side-step him, but the leader grabs the back of my collar and whips me around so I'm face to face with his bared teeth.

"You're a bit rude, aren't you? Should I pull your head out your ass for you?" His crimson eyes glare his murderous intent into me.

I hold my ground, the anger against my irresponsible friend more powerful than any fear of this hothead possibly hurting me. "Don't act so tough if your talk is cheap."

He cracks his knuckles without breaking eye contact with me. "I'll show you cheap talk. Try waking up next week after I'm done with you!" he snarls.

I mirror his expression. I don't mind throwing hands at this guy if I have to, blood rushing through me to prepare for the fist fight. "I dare you-!"

"Enough, (Y/n)."

I can feel his presence right behind me even though he doesn't physically touch me.

Scarlet eyes shift behind me. "Took you long enough, hot shot. Your friend has just as much spunk as you, I'll kick both your asses!"

"I'd like to see you try, Bakugou," Shouto responds coldly. "We both know who'd win." Keeping his gaze locked on the aggressive male, he harshly grabs my arm and hauls me away. "Let's go."

I'm fuming with anger when we're back inside the building. I turn on him when he finally releases me, but he's already starting down the hall. "Don't walk away from me! We need to talk!" I stomp over, following him to an abandoned classroom. "What the hell is wrong with you?! First of all, you were a real ass when I talked to you last week. Second of all, you're not even coming to class like you should. And now you're already picking fights with that idiot out there? What's gotten into you Shouto?!"

"You were about to get into a fight as well. You should thank me," he comments coldly, slipping into a desk with books open on top.

"I could've handled it just fine without you! The only reason I was even there talking to them was because I was looking for you!" I hover over him, glaring down so he can tell how angry I am. "You'e skipped class all week, this isn't like you at all! How are you supposed to catch-?"

One glance down the the open books shows all the material we've been going over in class. He's already caught up to today's lesson, writing notes in his book and ignoring my presence. The entire setup makes me angrier. "I don't understand you, Shouto. What kind of act are you trying to pull? You're not a delinquent, why are you trying to act like one for everyone else? Or is this all because you're just trying to ignore me?"

His pencil stops moving and it slams down onto the desk. "A lot happened since you left, (Y/n)," the boy responds. His quivering voice indicates restriction of intense emotion.

The hurt is apparent across his entire face, calming me down. My gaze lingers on the left side of his features, over the eye that somehow looks perpetually sad. "How did you get that scar, Shouto?"

The boy's eyebrows furrow. "My father never let up on me after you left, and he got worse. My mother couldn't handle fighting him on her own anymore. One day, she snapped, told me how unsightly my left side was, and pouring boiling water over my face." His large hand gingerly covers his reddened skin. "And my bastard father put her in a mental institution after that. He did this."

My heart aches for my childhood friend, the boy I took care of and listened to all his problems. I can't imagine how much pain Rei was going through. For her to have lost it, she must've held such a heavy burden. When I had to move away, I felt so guilty about leaving him with all his troubles. He had no one else to reach out to and it was snatched from him. There wasn't a day I stopped thinking and worrying over him. I reach to take his hand and offer comfort. "Shou-"

Shouto bolts up from his seat, his taller figure hunching over mine, features screwed up in distaste. "You weren't there when I needed you most."

I'm taken back, hurt more than anything. "It's not my fault, we were so much younger, I didn't have a choice but to go with my parents."

A dark chuckle erupts from his lips, dismissing my excuses. "It's fine. It happened, I've learned to deal with it."

I'm about to blow my top with this kid. "Yeah, you've dealt really well, haven't you?" I roll my eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

My mouth gapes, letting out a sputtered scoff. "You're kidding. Just look at you! You're pretending to be someone you're not! You and I both know you were never the bad boy type when we were kids. You're the slightly awkward, naturally smart, driven, hardworking-"

"I was only those things because my father forced them on me," he passes by me, crossing his arms. "I don't want to be anything that bastard wants anymore. And if you can't see that, then we were never friends in the first place."

That's a stab in the chest. How can he say that we were never friends when we used to do everything together? A surge of fury rushing through me, I grab his arm to keep him from moving any farther. "You love watching superhero cartoons, your favorite was All Might. Sometimes, you're so damn lazy that instead of doing homework when you came home, you would sneak in a nap before your dad came home to see you slacking off. Your favorite food in the entire world is cold soba. You don't like extremely sweet desserts. You've always been insecure about how strange your mismatched hair and eyes look, but I always had to assure you that you're still the most handsome guy in our class."

Shouto halfway turns around to look at me.

"If we weren't friends, why do I know so much about you?" I take another bold step towards him, softening at the underlying pain etched into his features. "I know you always hated the way your dad expects so much from you. The only thing you ever wanted in your childhood was to be normal. The pressure finally crumbled down on you and your mom, and I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you through it. But you shouldn't abandon everything that you are. You took after your mom more than your dad; you're sometimes a sassy son of a bitch, but you're kind and have a deep respect for people you admire. You have a natural sense of humor that you don't even know you have. You care about the people you're close to, you only struggle with communicating how you feel sometimes."

His lips part slightly, processing everything I just showered onto him. Guilt eventually creeps up on him, choosing to rub the back of his neck. "You...always did know just what to say."

I smirk and engulf him into my long-awaited hug. "Who else would put you back in your place?"

His arms hesitantly wrap around my body, the act of sharing body warmth strange yet familiar to him. It's a small victory, but I'm relieved that we're back on speaking terms. I'm ready to resume protecting him as I should.

Shouto shifts in our embrace. "You said...I struggle with telling people how I feel...?" he mumbles sheepishly near my ear.

My boy perks with confusion. "Yeah, even when we first-"

"Would it suffice if..."

Before I can turn to search his face for what he could be implying, his grip around me loosens as he pulls back to look at me, one of his warm hands resting against my cheek. His face looms right in front of me, my breath catching in surprise, before he presses his lips to mine softly. The weightlessness in my stomach is unmistakable.

As quick and unexpected as it came, it also left, Shouto's half lidded gaze resting on me from a small distance away. All I can do is stare off dazed, still trying to process what just happened.

He leans back against the nearest desk in the front row. "I guess I should've asked first." I can see his cheeks and his ears turn almost as flushed as the color of his hair despite his hand covering half his face to hide it. "But it was the only way I can think to get my point across without stumbling over words."

My heart still flutters trying to recover back to normal, my knees shaking as I lean against the teacher's desk for stability. I resist the urge to touch my lips like a shocked schoolgirl, but I'm still trying to process the whole thing. "You know," I cough, "We did already kiss when we were like...five, so this wasn't really our first. But I don't usually count that-"

The intense color fades from his face almost at once, a darkness creeping into his gaze. "Then," he pins me back into the desk, hands on both sides of the wood to trap me, "I shouldn't have any qualms about doing it again."

Contrasting from his strong setup, his next kiss is still shy and hesitant. After exchanging a couple more tentative lip-caresses that still make my head spin, he's gotten his feet wet enough to go harder, establishing a rhythm between us. As his kisses intensify, his hands reach up to cup both sides of my nape, fingers tangling in my hair desperately and tilting my head up for a better angle. My own hands grasp the collar of his uniform, pulling him closer into the heat of the moment.

His body pushes me practically into sitting on top of the desk, moving one of his knees between my legs as he lets ones of his hands roam down to grip my waist. The sudden tug elicits a minute gasp, allowing Shouto to nip at my bottom lip before tugging my head back to trail soft kisses down my jaw. My fingers thread through his soft locks, letting him massage my neck with his mouth.

"W-Where did you learn all this?" I breathe out unsteadily, my breath refusing to return.

He straightens up and captures my lips in another slow kiss. "You'll never know." Another one. "I've admittedly imagined this for a while." The next kiss is much deeper, a hum vibrating from his chest as his fingers dig into my side again. "You're special, so dear." His mumbles between kisses become more incoherent as his kisses become messy.

"Shouto." I finally manage to push him away for me to breathe and calm my dizzy head. Both of us are panting. His half-lidded eyes and flushed face tempt me, but the fear of someone walking by suddenly alerts in my mind. "Someone might see us. Besides, isn't there something you need to say?"

His brow lifts. "I'm...sorry for being rude to you last week."

"That was needed, too," I chuckle, "But there's something else."

Confusion crosses his features. "Have I done something else wrong?"

My hands slide down to grip his hands. "Don't you need to ask me to date you officially?"

The tint of rose on his cheeks intensifies a shade. "I thought it was clear already..."

Another chuckle bubbles from my lips and I lean up to kiss his warm cheek. "I'll let it pass because I want to date you too." His face begins to light up in joy, but I push off from the desk and tow him out of the room. "But you have to start coming to class again."

Shouto catches up to keep pace with me and presses a kiss to my forehead. "Done."

"And you need to see a therapist, Mr. Bad Boy."

He breaks out into a smile at that nickname. "I'll think about it."

#todoroki x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #todoroki shouto #shouto todoroki #no quirks au #todoroki angst #angst to fluff #gender neutral reader #todoroki imagine #todoroki scenario #mha todoroki #bnha todoroki #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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saiki-in-jsl · 4 years

Text

No Powers Saiki AU (3k)

Where he also has anxiety and selective mutism. (But also, nobody has powers. And that volcano issue never happens because I SAID SO.)

Uhm uhhhh, in no way am I a doctor, so this may not be very accurate. Sorry!!

TW: Panic attack, I don’t think this one needs a skip so I’ll just leave it as that (but if you need one, tell me :eyes:)

Also on my ao3!

Also well shit, I do like myself some good Kusuo and Akechi friendship :,)

Also also, ugggghhhhhh, the italics stuff don’t go through when I copy and paste from my docs rip. This is why I prefer ao3 more (and because their tagging system is HEAVENLY) so if you wanna read with all them proper italics I suggest switching to my ao3

ALSO ALSO ALSO, RIGHT WHEN I FINISHED THIS, I DISCOVERED ASL AND JSL ARE COMPLETELY DIFFERENT SO D A R N H E C K I’M SORRY. I did a big oopsie,,,let’s,,,pretend that asl,,,is,,default,,?

Saiki Kusuo was not your typical boy.

Since he was young, it had been painfully obvious that he was a gifted child, surpassing his brother by intelligence and strength. This had drawn many curious scientists to him, and after several tests that went on for hours and hours, he finally broke. He stopped talking and he stopped wanting to be around people.

His mother, equally as tired of the scientists as her son was, decided to hide his identity away from the public, constantly moving from location to location to avoid the people who knew of her son’s abilities.

This barely helped with Kusuo’s social development as a child, so the more he moved, the more he decided that he would much rather live in an isolated world than a world filled with people with prying eyes and loud mouths.

He did make a friend once though, but it barely lasted due to unforeseen circumstances that involved a few beat up bullies, and it had surprisingly hurt when he had to move away again. Akechi was his first real friend, and realizing that he won’t be seeing him again felt weird.

As much as he loved being alone, a friend would’ve been nice.

So the night before they moved away, he had pushed open his parents’ door, gripping his pajama top tightly, and whispered really really softly to his mother, “Mama. Will I ever make a friend?”

It was the first time he had spoken in a very long time, in fact, his mother couldn’t remember the last time he had spoken to her without pointing and hand gestures. So predictably, she cried and hugged him tight, mumbling how sorry she was for ruining his chance at making a friend, too caught up with trying to avoid those nosey scientists.

Middle school went by like a blur, aside from the occasional school switch that still happened, yet not as often as elementary. He didn’t remember a single thing that happened during those school days, maybe a few anxiety attacks in the bathroom and a sad attempt at trying to socialize, but that was it. Maybe it really was easier to be alone, at least he wouldn’t have to worry about losing his breathing from the sheer amount of stress he got from the assembly hall.

Highschool came and Kusuo had a new plan: Accept that having friends are not necessary and speaking with your mouth is dumb.

He quickly learnt how to use ASL, much preferring that language over vocally speaking, and made sure his grades were as average as possible. He had excelled through middle school and elementary school like it was nothing, but it had led him to be placed on stage many times because of this. So no more of that, because that was a recipe for disaster to him.

Kusuo made sure everything was in perfect place before heading to school. He made sure the school knew about his condition, and he also made sure to let them know he didn’t want to be publicly known as the school’s “mute kid”, so he’d definitely blend in without an issue.

Kusuo couldn’t believe what was happening. He hadn’t even fully registered his first year of highschool properly and his second year was already here.

To start off, he had friends, something he did not expect to have. He could predict many things, the weather, what people were thinking, and if he tried hard enough, he could even predict who would walk by his classroom in the next second. But he did not see this one coming.

He didn’t even know how. Nendou was a dunce who went from copying his homework to hanging around and inviting him out for ramen and Kaidou was a chuunibyou who thought Kusuo’s hand gestures was some sort of secret language and ended up perceiving Kusuo as some ally to Jet Black Wings.

Yumehara, for no reason other than the fact that Kusuo looked cute, decided she was meant to be with him. A lot of effort was taken to avoid her, but just as she lost interest in him, the class- no, the world’s idol decided she’d have a crush on him too. Then there was the class representative, Hairo, who constantly screamed and moved and how does he not get tired?

Then there was Kuboyasu, Toritsuka, Aiura, and so many people it made his head spin.

But they all had one thing in common when they communicated with him, and that was the fact that they all thought he was deaf. Granted, people who use ASL were commonly deaf, so he wasn’t blaming them for assuming so, and it did help him a little since this made them talk less around him and gave him a good excuse for ignoring them half the time.

Two years he spent in this highschool, and not once had he fired rapid ASL before. He never got the chance to, and he didn’t have much care for doing so. Mostly because most of the people around him didn’t even understand sign language.

But sometimes, listening to Toritsuka talk on and on about some cute girl could really put you on edge. Especially when he kept egging Kusuo on about the type of girls he liked.

The thing was, Kusuo didn’t like romance. He liked observing it and the idea of it, but he would never want to be a part of it. Frankly enough, he didn’t find any joy in it, he much preferred a life of solitude.

“C’mon, I know you can understand me, Saiki,” Toritsuka poked, grinning widely. “What kind of girls are you into? Or perhaps are into boys? Seriously, tell me, maybe we can go on a double date sometime. What about Teruhashi--“

Kusuo scowled, taking a step back and suddenly flying into fast ASL that roughly translated to several insults and long explanations as to why Kusuo wasn’t going to tell him. Toritsuka only blinked in surprise, because he swore he just saw the middle finger between those fast hand gestures, and he took a step back, raising his hands in defeat.

“Relax! Alright!” Toritsuka said, dropping the subject for good. “Next time fling me a note or something, that is seriously intimidating!”

Kusuo winced, feeling the third piece of paper Kaidou had just flung at him hit his head. This had been going on for the whole period, and Kusuo wondered why the teacher hadn’t noticed it yet. Most of the notes Kaidou sent weren’t serious anyways, and clearly not worth writing back to him.

He barely understood the references the boy was making anyways.

“How about we hang out after school? Do you like cake?” The last note read.

Kusuo smiled softly. “Yes, I do like cake.” He wrote, and with ease, he strategically threw it back so it would land perfectly on Kaidou’s table.

Being around Teruhashi was not ideal at all, because wherever she went, many people would follow. Kusuo hated crowds more than anything, it made his throat close up and his face a little sweaty, though his facial expression would never express his discomfort.

It would always remain blank and devoid of emotions.

Which always peaked Teruhashi’s interest. She found it a challenge to make the “deaf” kid who barely spoke gasp at her beauty, it would be a mighty achievement, yet no matter how hard she tried, it just never worked, which only pushed her to try harder. It resulted in her falling in love with him, unfortunately.

“Saiki does have a cute face though,” Teruhashi mumbled under her breath right as she walked along with Kusuo. She assumed he couldn’t hear her, so she regularly said things like those quietly to herself whenever he wasn’t looking her way. He appreciated the compliment at times, but sometimes, they do get a little creepy.

Nendou probably didn’t understand the idea of deaf people, or perhaps he thought his idea was pretty smart. Either ways, Kusuo sometimes couldn’t understand why he had to shout at him to communicate.

Did Nendou think deaf people just had very very poor hearing? Probably. But it often got annoying when they were in public places, and Kusuo couldn’t even tell him to quiet down because he couldn’t tell when exactly he was actually shouting.

Both his shouting and talking volume were around the same range.

But, it was rather nice of him to go out of his way to learn a bit of sign language just so he wouldn’t have to shout at Kusuo anymore. It was actually pretty nice having an ASL buddy.

Note to self, do not use ASL around Kuboyasu too much. He will and can mistake them as gang signs and get either sappy or angry. Kusuo said in his head as he watched Kuboyasu stare off into the distance with his fists clenched, reminiscing about his gang days.

Several times Kusuo had mistaken Hairo’s sad attempt at ASL as actual words and once spent half an hour straight wondering why the boy had signed refrigerator geese to him during that dodgeball game.

Saiko had once walked up to him and declared that whatever “nonsense” Kusuo was going to sign, he’d know right away what they would mean. At first, Kusuo found it hard to believe that the rich boy had taken time to learn ASL within his one day of being in this school, but as it turned out, all Saiko did was hire a translator to follow him around to translate Kusuo’s words.

That was possibly the most amount of effort he’d ever seen from Saiko, and it was good enough.

Kusuo wondered if learning ASL had magically made him more attractive. Aiura would not leave him alone, with her blonde hair, tanned skin, overly accessorized things, and bubbly personality. She wasn’t like Teruhashi, who attracted more men than Kusuo could count on his fingers, so she wasn’t as annoying to be around with.

But then again, she was more forward than Teruhashi too, so it didn’t make her more appealing either.

Seeing Akechi again resurfaced too many feelings. He hadn’t really realized how much he missed his first friend, but then again, the same boy was probably very aware of Kusuo’s high intelligence and may accidentally reveal his secret with that blabbering mouth of his.

Though, Kusuo had to admit, Akechi hadn’t changed one bit since the last time he saw him. Besides the haircut of course, and some other details, like how good he was at deducting now.

Being around Akechi was always strangely comforting back then, there was just something about listening to him talk that made Kusuo feel comfortable. You could say his talking was like white noise to Kusuo.

“Why does everyone assume you’re deaf? You’re not deaf, you just don’t like talking a lot, right? Why don’t you tell them that? Is it because you find it easier to pretend to be deaf? I can understand that, you were always really quiet, which was nice because you were a great listener too. I never found out why you up and left our elementary school without saying goodbye, but you were crazy sma--” Okay, that was when Kusuo made him stop talking, and Akechi took this as a hint to keep it a secret. There was a pause before Kusuo finally signed something to him.

Sorry.

“Nothing to apologize! I don’t think it was your fault anyways, but your plan worked like a charm honestly,” Akechi smiled. “I hope you missed me, because I know I missed you. We have a lot of catching up to do, I’ll start! So basically…”

Kusuo did. He really did miss him.

A play. Their class was doing a play.

After all that effort of trying to stay off the stage, he still couldn’t avoid it.

He’d feel bad if he didn’t show up to contribute, so he definitely couldn’t just ditch them. The most he could do was play a background role, but even then he’d still be painfully aware that he would be in front of the whole school, and he just couldn’t handle that.

But seeing everyone giving their all to make this play work, Kusuo couldn’t help but join along, regardless of his own condition.

Practice for the play went smoothly, and he found himself being able to cope with it. All he did was sway around like seaweed, since that was his role, and then walk off when his scene ends. Easy, nothing too complicated, he would be fine.

Until Saiko got his sensitive feelings hurt and decided to pull their budget on literally everything, including the costumes. Now, Kusuo couldn’t care less about that issue if it weren’t for the fact that; if the other cast didn’t have their costumes, they wouldn’t stand out as much, and there’d be a higher chance of the audience staring at him.

Yet there wasn’t much time to do last minute preparations for props and clothing, so everyone was encouraged to try their best in making their own costumes before the deadline. Kusuo predicted that no one would actually follow through, and for once, he wished he was wrong.

Apparently he didn’t wish hard enough, because that was exactly what had happened during the play. Everyone mostly came in their gym clothes, some with small props to make it look like they’ve tried, and some who just didn’t do anything at all.

When Kusuo’s scene finally came up, he and the rest of the people who played as seaweed scrambled onto stage, making waving motions with their arms to simulate seaweed underwater. Things went well for the most part, Kusuo did as practiced and waved around just like his other seaweed playing classmates, but the longer he stayed, the more aware he became.

Eyes, everywhere, in front of him, staring too hard, too long. Their mouths are moving, but he can’t hear what they’re saying, it was like they were on the other end of a glass wall. Were they talking about him among themselves?

Had it always been this warm on stage? Was it normal for his hands to shake? Was he breathing? He didn’t remember exhaling, nor inhaling. His throat went dry, his whole body rigid from...fear?

Someone was pushing him, someone else was pulling him, but he can’t properly grasp what was happening.

The world went a bit blurry before he completely went dark.

Kusuo woke up in the nurse’s office, body aching and throat dry. He wondered how long it took for him to wake up, but depending on the sun outside, it may have been an hour or so. He sat up slowly, groaning slightly from the pain, before suddenly being attacked by a hug from a familiar person.

“Pal! You’re okay,” Nendou cheered, finally pulling away from the hug to double check on his friend. He lifted his hands, proceeding to sign to him, You just suddenly fell over after they pulled you off stage.

My bad, Kusuo signed back tiredly. Sorry.

“What’d he say?” Kaidou nudged Nendou. Did he really have to ask? It was quite obvious.

“He says he’s fine.” Nendou answered, completely leaving out Kusuo’s apology, which he found strangely comforting yet offensive.

“He literally had a panic attack on stage, what do you mean he’s fine?” Kaidou argued, then he looked over at Kusuo with a deeper frown. “Why didn’t you tell us you were having an attack?”

“He wasn't being attacked,” Nendou said blankly.

“A panic attack, it’s different,” Kaidou huffed. “Saiki, not to be intrusive, but do you have anxiety?”

Did...he? He honestly never thought about it properly. Sure, he did have anxiety attacks every now and then when he was a kid, but this was the first one he had after a long time, so he never really considered he might’ve had anxiety.

Actually, it was starting to all make sense to him now that he thought about it.

“I’m going to take that as a yes but you didn’t know,” Kaidou said slowly, concern laced in his tone. It made sense that Kaidou would know, it did seem like he used to have the same issue.

“Oh for sure, can’t you tell from the way his eyes had widened just now by half a centimetre?” Akechi piped up from behind.

Good freaking grief.

He knew his mother didn’t trust doctors, but Kusuo really needed to see one after literally fainting in school. Not only that, it wasn’t his first time having an attack either, this was just the first time it had gotten this bad.

Sitting in a psychiatrist's waiting room felt odd, because it seemed a lot more homey than a regular doctor’s waiting room, with paintings hung on the walls and carpeted floor. He wasn’t particularly nervous, but he knew his mother was, because the hand she was using to hold onto him was shaking.

It’ll be okay, he reassured, squeezing his mother’s hand tight.

And it was okay. The lady was really nice to him, gentle and understanding, she barely pried and most of the questions she asked were pretty normal. She was a little surprised to learn that Kusuo could speak, but not in a way that was obvious, only Kusuo could tell that she was.

Communication with her was sorta slow. He had to type onto his notes app on his phone for her to read to answer her questions instead of hand signing, which he didn’t really mind all that much.

His mother, who had been waiting outside for them to be done, immediately got up when Kusuo was finished and asked several questions, one being: Did he need to take medication now?

Fortunately enough, it seemed like his case wasn’t too severe yet, mostly because he could still handle being around people without an issue, so he didn’t need to take any meds for now. Although his selective mutism was pretty serious, it wasn’t too bad either in his case, due to the fact that Kusuo spoke through sign language rather than verbally, so he wasn’t completely mute per se.

He came back next week, and the next, and many more weeks after that. He really liked this therapy thing.

“So your friends think you’re deaf, so you’re using that as an excuse to ignore them sometimes?”

Oh, when she put it like that, it just made him sound like an asshole. But yeah, he pretty much was doing that.

“Is there a particular reason why?”

Kusuo drummed his fingers on his lap. There were many reasons why, but those reasons had long lost their meaning. At first, it was because he didn’t want any friends, but now that he did have friends, there wasn’t any reason for him to keep following them through. No matter how many times he told himself he didn’t like them, they were still his friends.

“And why do you not want any friends?”

“Making friends was hard, keeping friends was hard, and losing them was even harder.” Kusuo typed out. “I guess I stopped trying. But then they started coming to me, and it was weird because I had already accepted it.”

“So you got scared?”

She could say that.

She uncrossed her legs, only to cross them back moments later, and adjusted her glasses, leaning forward, “It’s okay to feel scared about losing your friends, but if you’re going to push everyone who wants to be with you away, then how are you going to know if they’ll truly leave you? There’s nothing wrong with wanting space, but people do need other people to survive.”

One of the many things he did like about his friends was the fact that they all knew he enjoyed sweets. It was pretty obvious that he did, with the way his face would smile softly and soften at the taste of coffee jelly.

Surprisingly, they never notice that he’d much rather be left alone. Either that, or they don’t care.

It was a small outing event, they were mainly just eating and talking, but also trying their best to include Kusuo as much as possible, even though he didn’t mind being left alone with his coffee jelly and cakes.

“Man, I feel bad not including Saiki in conversations sometimes,” Kaidou mumbled, assuming Kusuo didn’t know what he had just said because he wasn’t reading Kaidou’s lips. “Since it’s hard to talk to him sometimes.”

“I’m sure we’re trying our best,” Teruhashi beamed, making Kaidou flush red.

“We should probably just learn sign language like Nendou did.” Kaidou hummed, rolling a fork between his thumb and finger. “It’d be a lot easier.” Though possibly soul crushing for him, considering Kaidou had cram school and such already on his schedule.

“Sounds fun,” Kuboyasu commented. “I’d be down. Maybe we can surprise him.” Oh that was just too much, too nice, Kusuo didn’t even know what he did to earn this much love.

Nendou snorted, grinning widely as he pumped his fist on his chest, “I can teach you all!”

“That would save a lot of money.”

Kusuo stopped eating, a rare sight to see despite him being undisturbed, and he placed his spoon down. Everyone stopped talking, looking over at him in confusion before he finally opened his mouth, surprising them even more.

“I can hear you,” Kusuo managed out. “I always could.”

Teruhashi was the first to react, eyes widening and her face turning bright red. All those comments she muttered, he had heard them all.

Nendou blinked, smiling widely with his arms spread wide, “Congratulations on learning how to hear, pal!” Not quite there, but appreciated.

“Uh, uhm, OF COURSE! I knew the whole time,” Kaidou flashed a charming grin, which would’ve worked if it weren’t for the awkward pose he was doing.

Kuboyasu only stared, and drank his tea, “Oh. Well.”

“Sorry.” Then Kusuo paused, and raised his hands to sign. Felt more comfortable being like this, but you all are too nice to me. So the least I could do was tell you the truth. I don’t talk because I have selective mutism.

Nendou translated for them, and they all softened hearing this. Kusuo pressed his back against the booth seat and fiddled with his spoon before taking another bite. That felt easy, and weight lifting. Now that they know, he didn’t have to feel so bad about them going out of their way to do things for him just because they thought he was deaf.

“Of course I knew from the beginning,” Akechi boasted slightly, eyeing Aiura and Toritsuka with a smug grin. Aiura rolled her eyes at him, but pointed at Kusuo with a narrowed look.

“So you, like, could hear us the whole time,” she confirmed with him again. “I always thought you were just stupid smart, or something, at figuring things out despite not being able to hear, y’know?” Well, she wasn’t wrong about the smart part.

“That is so annoying!” Toritsuka blurted. “You’re annoying! Jeez! Would’ve been so much easier! Did you not tell us because you want an excuse to ignore us?” Kusuo recounted the number of times he avoided Toritsuka running towards him from behind, pretending he couldn’t hear him.

He proceeded to shake his head, very very slowly.

“He’s lying, by the way,” Akechi whispered. Kusuo clicked his tongue at that, earning himself a cheeky grin from Akechi.

Well that was that, now they all knew Kusuo wasn’t some deaf kid, even though that info might’ve spread throughout the school, which he really couldn’t care less about.

It was really nice, though, having friends he could trust.

#the disasterous life of saiki k #saiki kusuo no psi nan #saiki kusuo no ψ nan #saiki kusou #saiki kurumi #nendou riki #teruhashi kokomi #kaidou shun #aiura mikoto #toritsuka reita #akechi touma #kuboyasu aren

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forgotten-daydreamer · 3 years

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Hey! It’s me the anon again! I totally get what you are saying but from the opposite of the spectrum where memorization feel is impossible but my adhd(I also probably have asd I am working with a therapist to try to find a place to do an evaluation at the moment) allows for me to make an insane amount of connections. So like I get it but from the opposite end? It’s still tricky but I am better at analyzing things then memorizing them. Like when I took art history I for the life of me couldn’t remember terms/names/dates of art pieces but i do remember stories about them and can analyze things really well.

My biggest issue is getting overwhelmed with what is in my head because it’s too much so it can be hard to get it out. I am constantly connecting things in an interdisciplinary way to the point I have had one of my college professors say that I am one of the most interdisciplinary thinkers she knows if not the most. I can’t turn it off and I low key wonder if my brain only understands life through metaphors lol.

Idk if that made sense since I am just waking up from a nap and I am barely coherent but I get that different things work better for different people! I am interested in how dyscalculia effects how people learn! I think 1-3 people in my hall at college have it? I have a little bit of an understanding but I want to know more. In another life I would definitely study neurodivergence and the brain. I am just glad that none of my college classes so far have required exams. Only essays and art pieces(one of my majors is studio art)

From my experience (everyone has different experiences) dyscalculia affects my ability to process simple information that require reasoning rather than memory. It's gonna be a long post, so I'll write everything else under the cut.

I'll try to explain it with an example, starting from math: take something as simple as take-aways, the ones you do in elementary school, even.

The other day, I had to calculate 2021-14. My reasoning was flawed from the start, and I only realised it after my parents made me notice.

I said "okay, let's simplify this." because I know I have to, "If it were 2020-15, that would be 5." I know as much, because as long as something's a multiple of two or of five, I can manage.

I continued, "2020-15=2005. But I need to consider the 1 I dropped to go from 2021 to 2020, and the 1 I added to go from 14 to 15." and I can tell you that I just had to check with my calculator because I was doing it wrong again. Anyway.

"Since I added 1 and took away 1, it would be like doing 1-1, so 0... 2021-14=2005."

And I still swear on whatever you believe in that it still makes no sense to me, even if I try to draw the little dots as if I were six years old. Like, right now. I don't get it. I really took away one and added one, so why would 2021-14=2007? Where did I take that extra 2 from? Try and explain it to me, and I promise that I still won't get it.

I just don't get what I'm doing it wrong, and if the calculator weren't there I'd be dead by now.

Now, expand this problem to every little thing that involves critical thinking. Everything. Most of the problems involve numbers, but not only, sadly.

Formulas. You know algebra, right? Numbers are rare there, and most problems involve data that are letters, or numbers that really don't need to be processed on their own, it's a matter of copying them down correctly.

So, you just need to use the right formula, put the data there, and it's done.

Wrong.

Visual memory allows me to remember formulas easily, but I don't know how to pick the correct data.

If I know that something's, like, the speed of a body, and I know that the speed of a body goes in a certain little spot of the formula, I'll still get it wrong because something happens in between me understanding where I need to put the data and me putting the data in there. I don't know how to explain it, but everything makes no sense at that point.

I can write down the normal formula with each incognita without a problem, but I can't go farther than that because everything is too confused. It's like looking at a language you don't know that uses an alphabet you can't read. You may or may not recognize some patterns, but if you don't know what you're reading, it's like not knowing anything at all.

The other day, my dad explained to me how a turboshaft engine works. Friendly reminder that my average grade in physics was 4/10, never got more than a 6.5/10, despite my best efforts (too many numbers, too many data I didn't know where to put).

Anyway, he explained how that thing works from a mechanical point of view. Did I understand it in its entirety? No. Could I put it into words here for you? Maybe. Could I "draw" it and explain what each part is and how it works from a mechanical pov (so, no data)? Yes, a hundred percent.

What I do is impress the general shape of something- words, images, anything- in my brain, and put it aside. When I need it, I go find it (my technique is to look left, then slightly upwards. That's how I see things in a better way) and just copy it.

Which, by the way, reminded me to say that I also mix up right and left, since I read this thing three times and only realised that I wrote the wrong direction just a second before posting it. This is why I only use the GPS on mute.

Anyway- of course, I don't have perfect visual memory (my grades surely show that), and it doesn't help in each and every situation, and it's also tiring.

But. What I'm great at it's echoic memory. I remember people's voices and what they say to me (out loud) perfectly. I remember my teachers' voices from kindergarten. The info usually fades after a while, but it lasts long enough for me to use it when I need it for a test, or something. And the tone, the characterization of each voice- I don't ever forget those. This is why I remember songs I've heard once, maybe twice, years and years ago. I just... do.

It's not like I have good memory. I forget people's faces, people's names, streets, everything. But only when I know that I won't necessarily need them, or when I could always ask for them again.

My visual and echoic memory kick in when I need info pronto.

Does that make any sense to you? Sorry for the long post aaaa!!

Edit: figured I should add more things that dyscalculia causes.

Plus, only talking about math and anything related to numbers that I know I'll have to elaborate in some way makes me physically sick. Some of my friends think it's funny, I don't, 'cause math anxiety isn't just "aaa I freeze in front of the blackboard", no, it's also (for the most part, too) something that- speaking personally- activates my fight or flight instinct. Imagine an anxiety attack, but not the GAD kind (I do have GAD so I know what I'm talking about), but more "I am in danger. The danger is caused by this. This is dangerous."

I skip numbers when I count (farewell number 7 and everything that ends with it), can't tell 4 and 7 apart without focusing hard, no perception of time, distance, weight, nor speed, I don't understand graphs nor know how to make them properly. Also, mundane events don't happen in the proper order because of me. Just earlier I turned the car off, left the car, reached my doorstep, realized I hadn't locked the car, went to check my bag for the keys, didn't find them, went back the car only to find that I'd even left the door open, and the keys in. Or, sometimes I grab a tissue, throw it away, and realize that I forgot to blow my nose. Etc.

This happens- I think- because the brain cannot comprehend what it's looking at, despite everyone around seems to understand what one's brain should understand as well. It's like when you're stuck in a dream where everyone's laughing and you don't know if they're laughing at you, or at something else. In dreams, you don't ask, you can't. You're frozen and just stick to what you're trying to do.

It works exactly like that.

#ask #anon ask #dyscalculia #dyscalculia awareness #math cw #maths cw #i'd say #math tw #for me. i'm not kidding.

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kaiunkaiku · 5 years

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Welp, I wrote a fic | Ao3

Summary: Bakugou has a shit morning. Kirishima is a ray of sunshine. Aizawa does his duty as the unofficial father figure of the class.

Warnings: Implied PTSD, mentioned vomiting and nightmares, dissociation, chronic pain, my dialogue writing, also chaotic students. Some talk of trauma and therapy, reference to Todoroki’s bullshit family life

Enjoy!

Morning classes are no one’s favorites, except for perhaps Iida’s, but Aizawa, for all his hatred for the concept of doing anything before noon, doesn’t remember encountering this kind of a situation while teaching his current class. Mornings are, of course, in general quieter than the rowdy afternoons when the kids are fully awake, but he’s not quite used to the lack of annoyed grumbling, the occasional yell or the muffled, tired shushing that’s probably supposed to be discreet.

Instead, there’s only quiet whispering throughout the classroom, and a few glances thrown at the two empty desks. Aizawa is curious himself, and possibly a tad bit concerned, but maybe the kids are late.

The dorms being a five-minute walk away should have taken care of that problem, though. Of course he understands that sometimes students are late because of traffic or something he can conveniently put in the same category, but the dorms fixed even Kaminari’s perpetual lateness for the most part, and the majority of the class usually arrives in two or three groups.

If his memory serves him right, Aizawa doesn’t remember a single case of a student being absent and nobody bothering to notify him in the entirety of his teaching career. His students, especially in their first year, tend to be properly terrified of him at least enough not to skip class.

Then again, he still hasn’t expelled a single student from this class (although if it wasn’t for the current, inconvenient circumstances, Mineta would have been at least suspended a while ago for inappropriate behavior. He regrets not doing that at the beginning of the first year).

Right now, the empty seats of Kirishima and Bakugou seem to be glaring at him. It’s way too early for this, and maybe he could chalk it up to the boys being young and hormonal and in love, but Bakugou, despite his attitude and personality, is an exceptionally diligent student when compared to most of his peers.

But the possibility of them being late still stands, so Aizawa decides to give them a few more minutes to appear with a proper explanation and goes on to read Jirou’s argumentative essay on foreign language studying in elementary school.

He has three pages left, because this girl has opinions, when out of the corner of his eye he sees a shock of blonde hair approaching him with what looks suspiciously like a smartphone instead of a textbook or a notebook. Judging from the way Kaminari’s fingers fidget around the device and the slightly terrified look on his face, he’s well aware of the fact that phones are strictly banned in the classroom with the sole exception of searching information concerning an assignment, and this could very well end up with his phone in Aizawa’s desk drawer for the remainder of the day.

Aizawa does recall seeing Kaminari fiddling with his phone earlier, too – in fact, he can just as easily recall at least Sero, Ashido and Midoriya doing the same thing, with several of their classmates occasionally checking their phones. Maybe he should have done something fifteen minutes ago, but if no one falls asleep thanks to the blue light they keep staring at, he’ll forgive them before nine AM.

Looking at Kaminari’s anxious expression as he walks to the front of the class like he probably would to an executioner that hasn’t been given an order yet, Aizawa is starting to be fairly sure he won’t be seeing Kirishima or Bakugou in his classroom today. Behind Kaminari, a few other students are nervously glancing around and furiously tapping at their phones. Several phones vibrate simultaneously, telling Aizawa with certainty that they’re all screaming in their group chat. He briefly wonders what the thing is currently named, because he knows for a fact that at one point it was called Adopted by Aizawa and another Is nobody in this goddamn class straight (that one, Aizawa wonders himself, too, at times, but considering that he’s been in a relationship with a man for well over a decade, well, he supposes he doesn’t have much to say to that).

Kaminari’s phone buzzes, too, but he doesn’t even look at it, which leads to the logical conclusion that whatever the reason is for him to be bringing a phone to Aizawa instead of an exercise, it’s more important than what’s undoubtedly obnoxious, emoji-filled caps lock mess of “what the fuck are you doing” directed at Kaminari.

Deciding to give the kid a break, Aizawa sighs and looks up at Kaminari. He makes sure not to glare, because that would be counterproductive in this situation and just slow things down, and instead schools his expression into a neutral one.

“What is it?” he asks, not quite managing to keep the sleepiness from his voice. Kaminari glances down at his phone, the light of the screen briefly reflecting in his eyes, and then focuses his eyes on Aizawa’s face.

“Um,” Kaminari starts, already stuttering on the one syllable. “I, uh, well,” he mumbles, and his eyes wander somewhere behind Aizawa and then to the desk. Aizawa raises one eyebrow as Kaminari glances at his phone again. The rest of the classroom has gone silent – even the constant buzzing has stopped.

“Kirishima says Bakugou’s sick,” he then mumbles, words leaving his mouth fast and surprisingly quiet. “That’s pretty much all I can get out of him, but, I mean…” Kaminari drifts off, glancing nervously around again, and Aizawa is starting to suspect that he’s more afraid that Bakugou will blast through a window or a wall and continue on to blow up his head for even trying to suggest such a thing than he is of Aizawa confiscating his phone. “It’s gotta be pretty bad if he’s admitting it, right?”

Inclined to agree, Aizawa nods.

Kaminari is quiet for a moment, hands still fidgeting with his phone, and Aizawa looks at him expectantly. It’s still too early for this, and he’d like for Kaminari to continue if he’s going to. It takes way too long for Kaminari to take the hint before he clears his throat.

“So, uh, I figured I should probably tell you, since you’re the teacher and all, and, uh, yeah,” Kaminari continues, fidgeting. Aizawa almost feels sorry for the kid.

The rest of the class stares as Aizawa stands up from behind his desk. It’s unbelievably quiet, and while Aizawa appreciates them worrying for their classmates, he doesn’t really care for how obvious they are about it. They’re kids, of course, yes, but they’re also future pro heroes who should not look this concerned over what probably doesn’t warrant that level of concern.

It crosses his mind that he might not know something he probably should.

He straightens himself, taking note of his stiff arms – they’re always stiff, these days, and sore, and sometimes he can’t bend them properly – and sweeps his gaze across the classroom. Kaminari is still standing in front of him, fingers curled almost protectively around his phone.

“Iida,” he starts, and said boy snaps into attention immediately. “I’m stepping out for a second. You and Yaoyorozu are in charge.” Iida vocalizes his understanding and Aizawa knows he’s going to come back to absolute chaos because that’s what his class is. “Kaminari, back to your seat. If I see your phone again today, I’m confiscating it,” he remembers to say, and Kaminari scrambles back to his seat so quickly he almost trips over his own feet.

According to the security system in place at the Heights Alliance, the building is mostly empty, with the notable exception of two people in Bakugou’s room. The system is connected to his phone, as it is to the phones of all the staff members that deal with the students on a daily basis, and this is so much better than having the bots inform him of everything back when the dorms were still brand new. The bots are bitchy.

He sends a quick message to Hizashi to please go check on his class if he can find the time, and tells him to take every cell phone he sees even though he knows Hizashi won’t do it.

The walk is short, and Aizawa soon finds himself in front of Bakugou’s room. He knocks three times and hears footsteps from the other side, and then he’s facing messy red hair, wide, red eyes, and sharp teeth, making up one Kirishima Eijirou, who has no socks on and hasn’t styled his hair up.

The visible tension in Kirishima’s shoulders drains away as he recognizes who he just opened the door to, and his whole frame slumps in relief.

“Sensei,” he breathes out, before Aizawa has time to say anything. Then his eyes widen. “Oh, crap, I’m so sorry, I swear we didn’t mean to skip and we’re not doing anything stupid during school hours,” Kirishima starts, and suddenly he’s rambling in a slightly panicked way. Aizawa decides Kirishima isn’t in trouble for this.

“I just, I couldn’t just leave him here alone,” Kirishima continues, eyes flicking to where Aizawa knows the bathroom is. Then he freezes, and Aizawa cranes his neck to see what Kirishima is looking at.

There’s a digital clock on the nightstand, and Kirishima manages to whisper a soft “fuck” before he turns back to face Aizawa, eyes wider and now looking decidedly scared. “I swear I didn’t realize it was already almost nine,” he says in a meek voice, and Aizawa finally raises his hand between them to silence him. Kirishima’s mouth snaps shut.

“You’re not in trouble,” he says, and Kirishima relaxes. “Just tell me what’s going on. You told Kaminari that Bakugou was sick?”

Moving away from the doorway, Kirishima starts explaining as he lets Aizawa in. There’s a massive All Might poster staring at him.

“Yeah, uh, I don’t actually know what’s wrong.” Kirishima moves his hands helplessly. “He had a nightmare, which is nothing new, really, he has those, I have those, I’m pretty sure everyone has those," and oh, that's probably what Aizawa should have known but didn't, "but he was really out of it after, and now that I think about it he may have had a panic attack. And he was feeling sick, and so we’ve been camping in the bathroom since then. I think it was like five in the morning. He’s thrown up a few times,” he explains, hands fidgeting, as he nudges the bathroom door open with his foot.

Bakugou looks absolutely miserable.

He’s curled up to himself, hugging his knees to his chest, leaning on the wall next to the toilet, and he doesn’t even glance at the door when it opens, instead staring at a fixed spot in front of him. He’s wearing what looks like a Crimson Riot hoodie that’s a little too big on him, and his knuckles are white. The room reeks of sickness.

Kirishima sits down on the floor next to Bakugou, moving softly, and presses a kiss to his temple. “Hey there,” he murmurs. “I came back, you’re fine,” he continues, fingers settling to Bakugou’s hair, and on some level he reminds Aizawa of Hizashi. Bakugou doesn’t react.

Crouching down sends a twinge of pain from his knees to his hips, because today is apparently a shit day pain-wise, but Aizawa does it anyway. Being on eye-level with Bakugou, the kid looks even worse; his eyes are bloodshot and lips chapped, and he looks very pale. A quick check confirms that Bakugou isn’t wearing his hearing aids, so he digs his memory for sign language – he hasn’t seen Hizashi’s parents in a while, so he hasn’t used it in a while. He’s not exactly fluent in JSL, but Bakugou can hear something, so he’s going to make this work.

“Bakugou,” he starts, and fuck, the kid flinches. But the vacant look in his eyes clears, if just a bit, and Bakugou turns to look at him instead of the wall. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

Bakugou stares at him for a moment, a considering look in his eyes as if he’s trying to figure out something, and then swallows thickly. Kirishima hasn’t stopped running his fingers through Bakugou’s hair, and his previously free hand has slipped to hold Bakugou’s.

“I feel like shit and I want it to stop,” Bakugou croaks, tone detached and emotionless.

“Okay,” Aizawa replies, even though that did not answer his question. But Bakugou is clearly not lying, either. “I want to check if you have a fever, which means I’m going to touch your forehead,” he explains, trying to emphasize the words with a few key signs he doesn’t think he botches. He reaches a hand forward, but Bakugou interrupts him.

“I’m not sick,” he says, still without any emotion, but he sounds surprisingly convinced of this considering the unhealthy pallor of his skin and the fact that he’s been throwing up. Aizawa quirks an eyebrow.

“I’m going through some bullshit trauma response,” Bakugou continues, clutching Kirishima’s hand, “and it won’t stop.”

Which, okay, Aizawa can understand, because he’s been there, right down to describing the post-nightmare haze as bullshit trauma response when reality didn’t feel like reality and his body didn’t feel like his body. He can’t even imagine what it must be like to go through that at seventeen, because at the very least Aizawa himself was a proper adult and an actual, full-fledged, licenced hero with several years of experience when that particular brand of bullshit trauma response first hit him. Bakugou, on the other hand, is still a teenager, a student, a kid, and so is Kirishima.

He’s throwing Bakugou back to therapy starting tomorrow.

After the incident last fall, Aizawa made sure to force every single one of his students to sit down with a counselor. That lead to a few of his students agreeing to start therapy, and Aizawa keeps careful tabs on who’s going and how the rest of them are doing mentally; Bakugou quit at the end of the school year, Iida, Midoriya, Asui and Kirishima all sat a few sessions, Todoroki is still going, and if Aizawa is being honest, he doesn’t think Todoroki will ever get out of therapy. In any case, he does not need a repeat of a student having a mental breakdown and trying to kill a fellow student.

Looking at Bakugou now, Aizawa doesn’t think he’ll resist the idea too much.

Somehow, standing up is even worse than crouching down was. His knees protest, his ankles protest, his hips, his back, everything. It doesn’t matter, not right now. He’s an adult, and a teacher, and on duty.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” he starts once he’s straightened up. Kirishima’s eyes snap up to him, while Bakugou continues to stare where Aizawa’s face just was. “I’m going to call the nurse’s office, and they’re going to send someone here to give Bakugou something to calm down. You’re both excused for the day,” he adds, because he figures Kirishima wouldn’t be able to concentrate in class anyway.

“They’re gonna sedate me,” Bakugou states bluntly, and there’s still the detached tone to his voice.

“Not if you don’t want to– “

“I don’t.”

“– but they’re still going to check you up to see if there’s something else wrong. Do you still feel sick?”

Bakugou nods slowly, and Aizawa resists the urge to sigh. The poor kid is in for a long day.

XxX

Aizawa stays with the boys until a nurse whose name he doesn’t remember determines that Bakugou is dehydrated, exhausted, and indeed going through some bullshit trauma response; he’s damn near tachycardic, and apparently he’s been dissociating for hours. He won’t talk, so Kirishima provides information where he can – Bakugou still doesn’t seem to have a full grasp on everything that’s going on around him, not to mention what has been going on for the past few hours besides feeling horrible and confused.

In the end, the nurse gives him something to help with the nausea, and convinces him that a mild sedative is a better idea than continuing to feel like shit because he’s too wound up. Getting Bakugou up from the floor turns out to be the most difficult task, because he’s stiff as all hell and shaky on his feet. He doesn’t want to be touched, which is understandable but inconvenient, and once upright he wobbles and almost crashes into Kirishima.

Bakugou seems to fall asleep the second his head hits the pillow, and the nurse gives Kirishima some general instructions like keeping him hydrated and trying to get him to eat something, and tells him to call immediately if Bakugou starts getting worse or if his condition doesn’t improve in a few hours.

Finally walking back to the main building after reassuring Kirishima that yes, taking today off is fine and no, they’re not in trouble for not showing up to class, Aizawa swallows two painkillers dry and prepares himself for the mess that his class is likely to be when he returns.

XxX

As expected, Aizawa comes back to absolute chaos.

Kaminari is draped over Sero in a vaguely disturbing angle. Midoriya and Todoroki are hunched over the former’s desk in what decidedly does not look like studying. There seems to be a dance party at the back of the classroom, attended by Ashido, Aoyama and Hagakure, with Jirou providing music. Iida and Yaoyorozu are both sitting at their seats looking defeated.

There’s a nice couch in the teachers’ lounge. He can take a nap there. It’s fine. Hizashi can do something about his class.

#fanfiction #bakushima #kiribaku #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #sickfic #my writing

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saigeboredeaux-blog · 5 years

Text

( cisfemale ) haven’t seen NAEVA BARABESI around in a while. the NAOMI SCOTT lookalike has been known to be (+) STEADFAST & (+) JUDICIOUS, but SHE can also be (-) CHARY & (-) DETACHED. The 21 year old is a JUNIOR majoring in ANTHROPOLOGY. I believe they’re living in POTENTAS but I popped by earlier and no one answered the door. ( james! 20. EST. she/they. )

hello hello ! i’m james and this is my baby naeva !! she’s an oldie but also ... a new..ie ?? let’s just say it’s been a hot minute since i’ve awoken her ! i’ll probably pick up another muse at some point b/c that’s Who I Am and it was already a struggle figuring out who to bring in first so jskjdflg (except ik who i’d bring in for my second muse :~) ) anyways !! let’s get right into it !

TW: implications of illness.

a e s t h e t i c s

black a-line dresses and black oxford shoes and their light tapping against polished floors, parental expectations and eyerolls beginning lectures, sunglasses under fluorescent lights and the same old tired excuses. driving drunk friends so there’s a reason to say no, laughing off backhanded remarks and clinking of glasses, that old vintage watch that no longer functions but the presence brings a comfort like no other. tossing and turning and waking up and falling asleep--vicious cycles in a battle between dreams and reality. knowledge, and the ever-ending thirst to learn more--love for the surrounding world and an undying will to live. noses in books and the peaking gazes from underneath so, curiosity peaking and a longing to feel alright in one’s skin.

general info !!

full name: naeva ornella barabesi

nickname(s): to be determined t b h

b.o.d. - september 1st, 21 yrs old, virgo

label(s): the facade, the pastiche, the prevaricator, the salubrious

height: 5′6″

hometown: lecce, italy

sexuality: brave of u to assume naeva even know

her stats can be found HERE

and her pinterest can be found HERE !!

biography !!

to those her parents boast to, naeva is a miracle child by all means. guests told that she was born perfect--silent out the womb, easy as day to care for after years of trying for child with no avail; an angel taking vessel in their baby daughter. she is born to liars.

born to old money invested in hedge funds and the vice president of an international bank, surrounded by old buildings of exquisite architectural design--the barabesi family lived lavishly. this is not a lie. their mansions and sports cars and boastful superiority is all, undoubtedly real.

a child born with ailments to last her lifetime is a precious miracle who needs to stay quiet when mommy and daddy are bragging to their guests.

being oh so fragile only meant a lack of socialization except for when it’s convenient--the endless faces of specialists, or tutors, or her parents’ friends.

they love their daughter, yes, but after years and years of building perfect empires and fitting the mold they’ve so desperately tried to label themselves--god be damned if little naeva wasn’t their golden star right from the moment she was born.

born and, for a short time, living in lecce, italy--the barabesi family soon moved to the states in pursue of the best of the best doctors. specifically, cold spring, new york.

small enough to go undisturbed, the young girl spent her time learning and learning; whether it were numbers or vague history or what to take on what days and how to turn a cough into a smile.

and being treated as far too fragile--too delicate, as if she could shatter if you so dared look at her for too long.

eventually, the vicious cycle shifted to a life manageable. though still feeling as if she walked on eggshells, naeva could attend elementary school.

sure, it was stressful--but god, it was her life; she was not a burden, no matter the circumstance and no matter what ailed her.

years passed as naeva juggled the golden child act--attending school, her parents’ little parties, her after school lessons, endless doctor appointments--a blur, in all honesty. a near comfortable routine.

it wasn’t until naeva was in high school that she got a little, well, restless

routine is good, yes--but she was a girl who wanted to live a life where she didn’t have to worry about her health.

it were small things at first, skipping class to read in the library (how very rebellious, wow) and staying out of her house as much as possible without raising suspicions--whether it was stopping at the convenience store after violin or purposely hitting as many red lights as possible.

though naeva seemed to spiral her senior year, really, that’s when it became an issue.

unraveling quickly for reasons she really couldn’t fathom, she felt as if she wasn’t living enough.

going to parties instead of the library, committing vandalism with newly acquired friends, ignoring all the don’ts that came with being her and getting just. absolutely plastered.

it was at one of these parties, a college party nonetheless--where naeva met tatiana samuels.

the girl fascinated an impressionable naeva in a way she didn’t understand--it grew into a friendship, and for the rest of the year; if tatiana was at a party, so was naeva.

but of course--reality got to the best of naeva and when her health crumbled, she withdrew. canceled her bad girl subscription; practically swore it off.

it hadn’t helped that the entire situation had thoroughly freaked out her parents, and suddenly, naeva was six again. back to the basics. this time, however, naeva thought that just maybe, it was for the best.

her parents practically forced her to attend lockwood (not that she really minded) in order to keep her close to home--even so, naeva is living as independently as she can.

personality

it’s sort of easy to mistake naeva for a very serious kinda woman; y’know, no laughs or jokes or inappropriate behavior.

it’s the air around her, really; cool, calm, and collected; aloof yet confident, eyes so dark y’can’t tell if they’re judging or commending you. always seen with a yeti in hand, undoubtedly filled with decaf coffee--booties and tights and tasteful blazers. she’s your fourth grade substitute teacher that wouldn’t let you talk during free time.

but well, it’s a mistake.

she’s responsible and rational and work-oriented but god, does she value humor and amusement and all the good little things in life.

maybe she’s not the funniest person around, but she’ll attempt banter with you--and if you’re passionate about something she’ll hear you out; hell, she’ll support your excitement, maybe even share some of her own passions. naeva is constantly amused, even if her mouth’s set in a hard line.

she studies anthropology because of her love for human life and culture; her minor’s in sociology for god’s sake. naeva loves life, loves liveliness, loves people who feel intensely--naeva’s got a lot of love in her.

it’s a shame she’s so afraid to let people in.

don’t get it wrong--she’ll cozy right up to you but...is she really? or is she just letting you see what she wants you to see? it pains her, as somebody who feels so much, to act so...distant? she by no means gives off a cold air, but she’s the kind of gal you know without really knowing.

god, naeva is so scared. it hurts, sometimes, how scared shitless she is--the events happening in lockwood, secrets being revealed--the possibility that hers will be one day out in the opened without her consent. she just wants to live her life. she really, really, just wants to live.

‘course, she keeps it very very contained. her friends must not know how goddamn stressed she is, at all times of the day--the woman hates pity. she’s been pitied since birth. she wants no more of it.

it’s precisely why she keeps her medical history so hidden. she isn’t ashamed of her life, no, she’s alive and that’s what matters--but the pity. imagined or not--the thought of it is unbearable. maybe it’s silly, maybe a little too irrational for a girl considered so...rational, but, she can’t help it.

it’s not anybody’s business anyway--she tells herself, at least--

it’s led to her lying a lot--unnecessary, but she panics often--when she disappears from school for an extended amount of time, it’s because of family drama or events or public appearances or whatnot.

which, sometimes really gets to her--she’s supposed to be dependable, reliable, trustworthy--goddammit, and she can’t even do that. she’s just a girl with a lot of excuses up her sleeve and one day she’s going to run out.

don’t get her wrong though ! she’s not a passive person, y’know, just because she can be quiet and distant. if she sees an injustice she will speak out about it--she’s got a lot of opinions, and is pretty much ready to attack you with words.

tl;dr - kind and a Pal whilst keeping a distance--always stressed but [laugh track] you’ll never know. she’s also a big nerd when it comes to cultures and just. learning in general. loves history and sociology and anthropology and all that. like...a mom friend? very responsible, will be the designated driver Always and take care of you, it’s just...you only really know what she wants you to know, and she’s a lil bit of a liar. Big Smart, is always amused. not as serious as you’d think.

OH! and she’s very noncommittal in the relationship-sense. like...she’s probably dated around a little bit but the longer it lasts the more tense she gets and more often than not she breaks things off.

disclaimer!

illnesses can be a very sensitive topic and i promise i’m not being vague about it without reason: i’ll be going into it for a task. i’m always cautious on how i portray it, so please let me know when and where i can better myself if something feels off ! the last thing i want to do is come off as inaccurate.

i also was going to do a fun fact/headcanon section but my brain? big dumb and i literally forgot everything i wanted to write so lmao. one of these days, expect a lil headcanons thing. but for now ...

OH! here’s a fun fact! she’s rich as FUCK. that is all, good day.

wanted connections

god give me everything

like i’m really up for anything.

give her a best friend! somebody who really truly knows her

or somebody who Thinks they really know her tehehehfgjfghj

let her mom friend others! be the parental figure in this relationship!

fake friends b/c she’s got money.

study buddies!

people she tutors!

somebody who lets her be a lil’ wild, loosen up.

on the other end: let her keep somebody rooted! a good influence.

ex partners! on good or bad terms??

hook ups! one night stands! fwbs!

ex-hookups ! one night stands that lead to awkward encounters

a thorn in her side, an absolute Annoyance.

on the other hand, let me use naeva to badger your characters. let Her be the annoyance.

enemies? for whatever reason ??

on-and-off-agains!

will they won’t they?

ex-friends! ex-friends trying to fix their friendship!

tense relationships!

oh, your mail keeps getting mixed with mine ?? wth ?? we don’t even have similar names ??

conspiracy theory buds!

STOP running INTO ME on ur morning JOGS u PRICK i’m trying to WALK HERE

purposely stealing the last like...breakfast sandwich in the food court just to be that asshole

bickering. just lots of bickering.

somebody who is just suspicious of naeva’s lil lies n is like HMM and she’s like OH NO U DON’T

somebody she rly wants to be close with but just :) refuses :)

anything unrequited. anything one-sided. love or hate or platonic idc i want it all.

pls n thank.

like this n i’ll msg you of course !!

#water:intro #illness tw #cancer tw #it's not really but just in case!#pls love me and her #it took me...a while to write this

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fuckyeahkagepro · 5 years

Conversation

a quick summary of Kagepro theories in relation to Momo Kisaragi + 'five years ago', pt. 1

AROUND, NOT EXACTLY, 'FIVE YEARS AGO': * HAPPENS *

Momo: As stated by my 2013 era early profile, Momo Kisaragi, elementary school! LOWER GRADES! I'm in 10th grade of high school in MAIN CANON, I say this MULTIPLE TIMES in "Kisaragi Attention" chapters, and Japanese elementary school consists of SIX grades compared to the US's FIVE. I.e. a sixth grader is comparable to a US first year middle schooler! They might be a bit OLDER depending on if their birthday is in the LATER HALF of the year?

Momo: anyway, my birthday is FEBRUARY 14TH. Valentines Day! That means I'm on the YOUNGER END of a Japanese school year. It's really not THAT hard! January 1st - April 1st is the "younger end"! Cutoff dates, basically!

Momo: also, the Japanese school year begins in APRIL and ends in MARCH! Did you know my older brother's birthday is APRIL and he's confirmed 18 years old? Yeah, he only JUST had his birthday a few months ago! This series takes place... "August 15th", doesn't it??? ?? ? ..... So that means my birthday passed ONLY about five months ago!

Momo: also, Japanese high school has ONLY THREE YEARS compared to the US's four! This is significant too!! because I'm basically a high school FRESHMAN in Japan even though the US would consider me a sophomore! But, you know, I'm JAPANESE. Right ??? YEAH. I live in "Kashiwa City", I have a clearly Japanese name too!! ---

Momo: well, anyway, what happens if we take "10th grader" and subtract ABOUT "five years ago"? "Lower grades". Hmm. Maybe I'd be around... 5th grade? 6th grade is "higher grades" of "elementary school". So, for the sake of not making this MORE COMPLICATED, let's go with 5th grade!

young Momo, 5th grade: Momo Kisaragi, elementary schooler, 5th grade! Today is August 15th! I'm going to the BEACH with my DAD! It's gonna BE A FUN DAY -----

August 15th: :)

the Daze: :)

YOUNG MOMO:

YOUNG MOMO: ( DROWNING )

Momo, GAINING CAPTIVATING EYES SNAKE:

Jin, 2018 fandom era, via 2ND MANGA ROUTE: did you know the snakes possess people based on their SUBCONSCIOUS WISHES and DESIRES

Momo: ( ' OVERSHADOWED BY GENIUS BROTHER ' )

Momo: ( DOES VERY POORLY IN SCHOOL )

Momo: ( HAS BAD GRADES DUE TO THIS )

Momo: ( ALIENATED BY HER PEERS )

Momo: ( DRAWING WEIRD 'ATTENTION' TOWARDS HERSELF )

Momo: ( INCLUDING THE 'ATTENTION' OF /WEIRD CREEPY MEN/ )

SHINTARO, FIGHTING THESE MEN VIA VERY ANGRY GLARES AND RIPPING UP "LOVE LETTERS", 2ND MANGA ROUTE, FROM AFAR:

Momo: ( CLEARLY FREAKED OUT BY THE WEIRD CREEPY MEN FYI )

Momo: ( IN DANGER OF 'FAILING' HER GRADE )

Momo: (( This part is kinda complicated though because in Japan one typically DOESN'T 'Repeat' NOR 'SKIP' grades. Like, it's pretty close to IMPOSSIBLE. This is one HUGE DIFFERENCE between Japan and US school systems and cultures that a lot of people in the US / Western hemisphere REALLY DON'T SEEM TO GET. I'm [Momo] "threatened" with it anyway by my very clearly ""teacher"" KENJIROU TATEYAMA. ))

"Kenjirou"?, EARLY NOVELS ROUTE + MCA EPISODE 02: MOMO you HAVE to PASS these TESTS of your SUPPLEMENTARY CLASSES you're NOT EVEN TECHNICALLY A 10TH GRADER YET you're GONNA " FAIL " IF YOU DON'T do you REALLY WANT TO BE

"KENJIROU": "HELD BACK" ANOTHER YEAR AGAIN

"KENJIROU": YOU'LL BE ~~ "ALL ON YOUR OWN AGAIN" ~~

MOMO:

MOMO: I'LL DO IT

"Kenjirou": ( GOOD )

"KENJIROU", CLEARLY POTENTIALLY NOT "SAERU" IN DISGUISE:

"SAERU", CONFIRMED IN 2016 GUIDE WITH THE ROUTES TO HAVE "LURED" HIYORI ASAHINA INTO THE "CITY" ON THE "PHONE" EARLIER ON IN THE ROUTE:

HIYORI, INVITING *** HIBIYA AMAMIYA *** TO THE CITY VIA THE PHONE NOT LONG AFTER:

THE REST OF KAGEPRO FANDOM, NOT KNOWING THIS CIRCA 2016 FANDOM ERA:

BECAUSE, IT, WAS, NOT, TRANSLATED, BECAUSE, WE, ARE, A, V. SMALL / SLOW FANDOM DURING DOWNTIME ACTUALLY:

Jin: :) have fun

Jin: :) BY THE WAY

MCA Episode 02, "Kisaragi Attention", also via Momo's flashbacks in general via different Routes: Creepy guy showing up with "KASHIWA TALENT AGENCY" card appears. IN MCA, he's represented by a creepy bear in a suit and a musical instrument. BUT IN THE VARIOUS ROUTES, IF YOU TAKE A CLEAR LOOK AT HIS AGENCY CARD AND THE NAME ON IT...

AGENCY CARD: 'ENEMY OF NATURE' 'NATURAL ENEMY' 'SHIZEN NO TEKI-P' - B A S I C A L L Y

JIN, SHIZEN NO TEKI-P: :)

Kashiwa Talent Agency guy: Wow, Momo Kisaragi, you're so cute! Cuter and better and ASTONISHING than I expected!

Kashiwa Talent Agency guy: I'm with Kashiwa Talent Agency. I saw your accomplishments in the newspaper! You clearly have a GIFT to draw people's "attention" towards you!

MOMO, MCA ROUTE, STILL MIDDLE SCHOOL AGED, CLINGING TO MOM: ( WHO IS THIS GUY MOMMY ) ( I'M SCARED )

THIS SCENE, MCA: ( INCREDIBLY DEPRESSING )

MOMO, NOVELS ROUTE, INSTEAD APPROACHED BY 'SHIZEN NO TEKI-P' WHILE OUT AND ABOUT, ALONE, SOMETIME BEFORE HIGH SCHOOL, RECEIVING HIS CARD ANYHOW:

MOMO, MUSIC ROUTE, RECEIVES CARD, SEEMS TO CONTEMPLATE:

MOMO:

KASHIWA TALENT AGENCY GUY: ( BECOME IDOL )

MOMO:

Momo's MOTHER, ALWAYS SUPPORTING MOMO in MCA: I'll love you NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS, Momo-chan, don't worry!

Momo's mother: ( SICK ) ( POTENTIALLY DYING )

Momo's brother: ( SHUT IN ) ( DEPRESSED AS HELL )

Momo's brother: ( AFTER LOSING LIKE THREE ? OF HIS ONLY FRIENDS TO THIS V. COMPLICATED PLOT )

Momo's family: ( STRUGGLING ) ( LACKING MONEY )

MOMO:

MOMO: I'LL DO IT

Kashiwa Talent Agency guy: :)

Jin: :) have fun

Azami, SPEAKING: so anyway, around 'five years ago' is when CAPTIVATING EYES snake LEFT ME, maybe,,,

AYANO, 2ND MANGA ROUTE, SPEAKING, TO SHINTARO: So, anyway, that is VERY LIKELY WHEN YOUR SISTER RECEIVED HER POWERS, I'M TELLING YOU THIS FOR V. COMPLICATED REASONS TOO,

HIBIYA AMAMIYA, H E A R I N G ALL OF THIS IN PRESENT DAY, ALSO /WITNESSING IT/ CLEARLY (IN PRIVATE) DURING AZAMI'S MEMORIES BEING SHOWN TO HIM /BY AYANO TATEYAMA/:

SAERU: :) WHEN DID I BEGIN POSSESSING / "FORMING" IN HIBIYA AMAMIYA?

SAERU: "SINCE THE VERY START" "LONG BEFORE I KILLED KIDO" "AND MET AYANO"

Ayano to HIBIYA, NOVELS ROUTE: "YOUR EYES" (FOCUSING EYES) "CAN SEE THROUGH THE 'EYES'" "OF OTHER PEPOPLE"

SAERU: :)

#fuckyeahkagepro posts #fuckyeahkagepro theories #fuckyeahkagepro chat posts #fuckyeahkagepro humor #kagepro: theories #hibiya theories #saeru theories #momo theories #azami theories #ayano theories #hibiya amamiya #hibiya extended refs #saeru extended refs #azami extended refs #momo extended refs #momo kisaragi #saeru #azami #ayano extended refs #clearing eyes #(I HATE JIN)#('HOW DO I EXPLAIN ALL THIS' 'IN A WAY THIS FANDOM UNDERSTANDS')#(ESPECIALLY THE PART RE SCHOOL SYSTEM whiiiich YEAH A LOT JUST AREN'T ..... GETTING)#(but yeah YOU NEED TO UNDERSTAND THIS to understand THIS TIMELINE)#(THIS V. COMPLICATED TIMELINE THAT IS DEF NOT HELPED BY THE 'AGES ISSUE')#(I'M NOT TELLING YOU THIS TO MAKE YOU MAD OK)#(I'M ALSO NOT YELLING BC I'M MAD OK I'M YELLING @ JIN BASICALLY)#(FOR MAKING THIS EVEN MORE COMPLICATED)#fuckyeahkagepro tag rambles

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illusoryteam · 6 years

Text

Her Name is “K”

Writer: okbdsm Source: Private entry from personal Website Date: May 14, 2018 at 10:34 P.M. CDT Note: This post is edited to remove identifying location information and information that may lead to the identity of the person I am posting about.

This is going to be an incredibly long journal entry, and since the person I am talking about is a friend of mine that I’ve known since elementary school and she is still on my Facebook friends list, I don’t plan on talking about her on a public platform. However, that’s the beauty regarding having a Website in which I can make certain things able to be viewed to the public or have it only able to be viewed to myself and certain people.

“K” is a lady that I met in 1988 when I attended in kindergarten A.M. class at my old public school. After kindergarten, we would end up having the same 1st grade teacher before we went our separate ways. Granted, while we were friends, we were not particularly close (largely due to the fact that I mostly hung out with my guy friends at the time). The two of us would not be in any of the same classes again until middle school.

“K” and I would end up being in the 8th grade middle school band, and while the two of us were still friends, the two of us were still not overly close, at first. However, the two of us ended up getting a little bit closer due to our few interactions we had in band. One of the things that I admired about her was with how sweet and caring she was. Additionally, since I was an occasional target for being picked on by people at school, she also helped to encourage me to stand up for myself a bit more than I did. Thinking about it now, this was likely me being a stupid 14 year old teenage boy at the time, but I found myself getting a crush on her when she invited me over to her house to celebrate her 14th birthday. Unfortunately, I was not able to attend her 14th birthday party since I was away that weekend with an activity with my Boy Scouts of America Troop. Despite that, that small act that she performed would have me enamored with her, and throughout the summer of 1997, I ended up obtaining a crush on her.

As a broke 14 year old teenage boy, I wanted to do some things to impress her and show her that I cared about her. I don’t remember everything that I got her during the summer of 1997, but I remember leaving her small homemade items in her mailbox from time to time. One of the things that I remember leaving her in her mailbox was some free tickets to a baseball game. I would end up going to that same baseball game, and to my surprise, I also saw “K” and one of her friends there. Being a stupid 14 year old teenage boy at the time, I would do things like skip around when I saw her and act really silly as I skipped/ran away.

Anyway, before the start of our 9th grade school year, I would end up writing a note and leaving it in her mailbox letting her know that I had a crush on her. I did not really expect her to acknowledge my feelings for her, but during our 9th grade freshman year of high school, “K” and I would talk a bit more and got a bit closer. Although she dated someone else for the first quarter to half of the school year, I still maintained my feelings for her. At this time, I tried to make it not very obvious that I had feelings for her, but she and a few of her friends knew about it. I would also tell a few of my friends about it, but I pretty much swore my friends to secrecy since I did not want to make things awkward between “K” and I. I will say that during one of the classes she and I shared together, she gave me a note thanking me for the things I got her during the summer of 1997.

The major turning point with “K” was when I and a few others were invited over for Christmas Eve 1997. While I don’t remember what I gave her for Christmas that year (very likely, I either purchased or drew a Christmas card), she would end up drawing me a small Christmas card and gave me a bar of Hershey’s Cookies ‘n’ Creme Candy Bar. Before heading home that night, “K” ended up giving me a hug that lasted for several moments. With that hug, I experienced such a warmth flow through me that I knew that I did not just have a crush on her.

I was in love with “K.”

While she was absolutely beautiful, her personality was what I fell in love with.

“K” would even be the first lady that I would dance with, and this needs a little bit of backstory.

During 7th grade, 8th grade, and 9th grade, while I would go to school dances and have been asked I wanted to dance by one, I was too nervous to dance with any girls. In theory, I knew where to put my hands, but in actuality, I was too nervous to do it because I did not want to put my hands on the wrong area by mistake. That would all change with a band trip to San Antonio, Texas.

In April 1998, our high school would travel to San Antonio to participate in a concert band contest. For recreation, we would end up going to the Alamo, Sea World, Six Flags Fiesta Texas, and a few other places. After going to Sea World and finishing dinner one night, some of us had the option where we could go to some place to play some arcade games and others were also able to go to a dance. Since I brought my Sega Genesis with me for the trip, I opted to go to the dance instead. However, for us to remain at the dance, we could not be wall flowers. While we were not required to dance, we could not just stand in the corner. Somehow, I managed to avoid being a wall flower, and at some point, we ended up forming a circle where people were dancing in it. It was the last song of the night, and “K” was in the circle. Of course, I was content with just watching her dance, but something unexpected happened.

“K” pulled me inside the circle, and I started slow dancing with her.

Naturally, I was nervous beyond belief.

This was “K!”

I loved “K!”

“K” knew I liked her!

Some people at the dance knew that I liked “K!”

However, as time went on, I felt my worries just melt away and enjoyed the moment that “K” and I had together. To this day, I would like to think that “K” knew that I was nervous as well, and she helped me out more than she could ever imagine. After the dance ended, I would end up thanking her for the dance, and I would say that my dance with her was the absolute highlight of the trip.

While I was hoping to spend the 1998 – 1999 school year trying to get closer to “K” (while hoping that the two of us would end up dating), that plan came to an end on June 24, 1998 when I heard that “K” and her family were moving to another state. Her dad worked for Delta Airlines in a major metropolitan area, and he would commute from home to the major metropolitan area for work. Ultimately, it was decided that her family would move to join her dad in the major metropolitan area , and so, on August 4, 1998, “K” and her family would end up moving from her home town. The thing that I have regretted the most was never telling her in person how much I cared about her.

Despite her moving to the major metropolitan area , the two of us would remain in touch throughout high school via phone calls and me sending her letters, birthday cards, and Christmas cards, and she would occasionally visit her home town to visit other friends as well. It was at this point that I would start ending my letters that I mailed to her with “Love” due to the fact that I wanted to let her know how much I loved and cared about her. I vastly regretted never being able to tell her how much I loved and cared about her when she lived in her home town, so I told myself that I would not make that same mistake again after she moved.

After high school ended, I would continue to send “K” birthday and Christmas cards over the years (there were very rare occasions in which I did not send her one), and even to this day, I recently mailed her a birthday card to celebrate her 35th birthday. However, while I still love and care about “K,” as the years went by, I have started to develop a few criticisms as well. This is something that I will spend some time talking about, and it is one of the primary reasons why I created this private post to finally get my frustrations out.

I do not know how many letters I have written “K” over the years, and I certainly do not remember how many birthday and Christmas cards I have mailed her. At the very most, I have mailed her around 20 birthday cards (minus any years that I might have missed) and around 19 Christmas cards (minus any that I might have missed). Sometimes, she will acknowledge via text message thanking me for remembering her birthday or sending her a Christmas card, but most of the time, I do not receive any thanks at all. Furthermore, I only have one address to mail things to her, and it’s her dad’s address. For a little while, I did have an address for her dad and an address for her mom when she was living with her mom for a while, but after her mom moved from the major metropolitan area, I had to use my fallback of sending things to her dad’s place. Fortunately, her dad has lived in the same house for nearly 20 years, but she lives between 30 to 40 minutes away from her dad, and should her dad ever move from where he lives, I would no longer have any way of sending “K” letters, Christmas cards, etc. unless she shares her current address with me.

Considering that I have mailed her many letters, birthday cards, and Christmas cards, you would think that she would occasionally mail me a letter or something. To date, since she moved to Texas, I have not received a single letter, birthday card, or Christmas card from her. During a trip to Oklahoma in either 1998 or 1999, she did hand me a letter that she was going to mail me, but beyond that, I have not received anything. When I actually write letters to “K,” I put a lot of thought and effort into writing them, and these letters can easily span two or more pages if I wrote front and back, and for me to not have received anything from her after the extraordinary effort I put into them, it can be very disheartening at times.

Now, I am not stupid to think that she does not date people because I know she dates people, and I am not into trying to convince her to date me when she’s already dating someone else. Heck, since she has moved from her home town, I have dated three ladies (one relationship being on and off due to distance, but it lasted from September 1999 to April 2000 with a very long break in between, one relationship lasting from November 2003 to April 2004, and one relationship lasting from October 11, 2008 to November 30, 2010). However, I do try to call her and/or send her a text message (at least) once a month so I can see how she is doing. Lately though, I have not had a lot of success in trying to reach her via text messaging. At the end of 2016, I sent her 66 SMS/MMS messages and received 20 SMS/MMS messages from her, and at the end of 2017, I sent her 115 SMS/MMS messages, and I received 23 SMS/MMS from her. I do not remember how many times I have called her in 2017, but the vast majority of the time, I would end up getting her voice mail.

This is very disheartening to me because I have tried my best to keep in touch with her since she moved to the major metropolitan area because I want to still remain a part of her life. However, I think that part of the reason why I am having so much trouble trying to reach her these days is due to the aspects of adulthood and the fact that I told her my feelings for her. I do not regret my feelings for “K,” and I will always continue to love her. However, these days, when I think about her, part of me gets upset because of the amount of effort I have made over the years to try to remain in touch with her seems to be in vain. Additionally, another part of me feels sad because of the fact that I am not as close to her as I would like to be. I remember many points of the past 20 years where I would think about “K” on a near daily basis, and these days, I will think about her from time to time each month but either become upset or saddened for the reasons above.

Perhaps, this is a sign that I am starting to realize that I value my friendship and love of her more than she does with me, or perhaps, this is a sign that I am starting to let go and slowly starting to move on from her (particularly since I have been largely focusing on the same lady for twenty years). While I do not see myself removing her from my friends list on Facebook anytime soon (I am sure someone will suggest that I do that, but I do not remove people from my friends list on Facebook unless they are bots or spam accounts), I do not see myself making an extraordinary effort anymore to try to keep in touch with her. As always, my overall policy is that when I am friends with someone, unless they outright state that they do not want to be friends with me anymore, they are stuck with me for life, and I will try to do what I can to be there for them.

Regardless, although we are drifting apart, I do love “K” very deeply.

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sordidpassionsandlockedemotions · 6 years

Text

(Mundane High School Au-Malec)

Alec really wasn’t all that enthused by the idea of going on a field trip ice skating,sure it had been fun in elementary school or the occasional odd birthday party he wound up going to but High School for a school event seemed just a bit dumb. Well time with everybody in his grade,all in one place possibly as well because really he’d much rather be sat in class bored out of his mind than in a crowd freezing cold.

Yet here he was sat on a bench tying on some skates slowly as he could unamused by the kids who were chatting in crowds,tying each other’s boots up,and or the kids who skated quite a bit so were crowding the counter talking what seemed to be gibberish. Maybe not the best day for his boot wearing habits however did get some black ice skates which weren’t terribly beat up.

Walking carefully from the benches,noise across the concrete to the little area between the rink and the bench area. Noise changed all sorts of kids on the ice,several who never had hugging the walls. It was loud but seemed more dispersed he moved onto the ice then spotted an area where he could just sit the whole time possibly. Glancing around weighing skating over easily but moved close to the wall,dodging a girl who was trying to pull herself back up.

Wasted most the time just sat there on his phone stealing occasional glances at Magnus Bane,naturally his crush seemed to also be great at ice skating among everything else. Something amusing seeing the toned down wardrobe,hair hidden underneath a hat apparently the other was not a cold weather type of person. Meanwhile Alec just stretched his legs sliding his feet underneath on the ice.

Okay he was bored especially when girls occasionally drifted close to flirt,or teachers to ask if he was ‘okay’ and really those two things were driving him insane. So he stood up phone carefully zipped away in his leather jacket surveying his surroundings before gliding across the ice. Aware of several whispered remarks probably of the nature like ‘he’s actually doing something’. Maybe going a bit too fast because there was a wall steadily approaching which he only meant to go a bit of a distance.

Remembering he forgot gloves panicked till he managed to stop taking a deep breath before carefully walking to the wall and just standing there. That’s when his friend Aline skated over away from the girl she had quietly been flirting with,teaching to skate. “Look at you nearly face planting into the wall.” He stuck his tongue out meanwhile she stood there studying him,”Also you’re coming with me.” His eyes widened trying to back away but there was the wall and she grabbed his hands speeding across the ice with him in tow.

“Aline,I swear if you don’t let go-.” Just as he said it she let go and he found himself moving rapidly towards Magnus glaring back at her he quickly angled his feet maybe careen in a different direction that wasn’t his really hot crush. Managing to avoid him just barely,mostly because of a shout that warned Magnus to move and Alec was grateful when shortly afterwards the one teacher shouted that it was time to leave.

Making his way to the ice towards the exit which was beat up violently so naturally the tip of his ice skate’s blade caught and-he fell ungracefully meanwhile people just walked by. Knowing it would hurt tried getting up with his bare hands,sleeves not much luck just crashed into the ice a few more times. Huffing annoyance almost punched the ice before weighing tactics like if could just manage to crawl to the wall,pull himself up.

That’s when a hand extended towards him wearing blue gloves,”Here let me help you up.” Alec’s eyes moved upwards to Magnus Bane standing there figured Aline would have helped him,were she not already likely out of her skates. Why not his dignity was already in tatters so having such a popular guy,and his crush help him up with people just watching after his inability to get up wouldn’t be that bad in any way. Taking the hand going to stand up slowly so not to have his legs or feet slide and make issues for the standing up.

“Thanks.” However he did slide,trip or maybe the universe just smacked him hard with gravity because there was his back against the ice which hurt so much. Along with weight on top of him in fact landing way too close for comfort because their eyes were looking into each other’s,and lips had almost smacked together too. Cold air in his face from the other’s breath and his messy hair exposed as the hat lay beside them.

Of course nobody missed a beat and there was remarks of,”Ooo look at them.” Real mature,Alec scoffed internally meanwhile Magnus laughed which only made him feel his face grow hot. Soon they were both actually up and Alec making his way quickly far as he could tripping a little between destinations but recovered quickly.

Walking back to school because it was so close to the ice rink he hang back in the very back of the group. Aline joined him arm slinging around his shoulders,”You’re never going to live that down but on the bright side could say he fell for you.” Alec shoved her arm off with a look that was trying to be mad but really he’d heard all the whispers,Magnus was clearly having fun up ahead with his friends and no harm done right.

“Ha ha so how’s the potential girlfriend,or did you guys get engaged while I was busy being clumsy?” This gained him a gentle punch to the arm but then they both laughed just walking quietly when suddenly Magnus and his friends had lagged behind close to them. Mostly Magnus though who turned around which sent Aline skipping ahead with shot looks of ‘come on just tell him already’.

Magnus shouted it felt like a shout or maybe Alec was just really conscious after the rink incident,”Hey Alexander you alright?” Uh why wouldn’t he be,rude okay he was really being moody more than usual. The hat was back covering up the brown hair along with whatever colored streak was in it this week. “Cause if you’re hurt can tell a teacher or go ahead to school have your sister or brother pick you up.” Helpful way helpful honestly it seemed out of nowhere even with the rare flirting and such but that was just how Magnus worked.

“Yeah I’m alright.” Wow three words boy was he talkative to be fair his back and hands did feel a bit injured same with his legs but his emotions were really the injured party so he was fine. “Nah shouldn’t you catch up to your friends though?” Noticing how the other was now really close practically walking with him,”I mean the crowd’s that direction just lagging here since don’t have to retrieve anything from my locker before heading home.”

The other seemed about to say something when,”So you two finally together or what?” A shout from apparently one of Magnus’ friends who were apparently all too aware of them behind everybody else. Which immediately gained a scowl from Magnus who scooped up a snowball considering breaking that rule before just dropping it. A few more teasing shouts and then they were gone like that leaving Alec to shove his hands in his jacket.

School a welcome sight when Magnus spoke up,”I like you.” Bringing Alec out of his own thoughts which mainly was considering switching schools or moving elsewhere because really what was with people at his school honestly. Head glancing up at Magnus just tilting a bit like it would make the words change. “Kind of why I decided to lag behind to help you up.”

Uh okay so maybe there was more to the occasional glances and flirting,he must suck at reading social cues actually he knew he did because Izzy always had to help him sometimes realize when he was being rude. “You do?” Pausing,”I mean uh I-.” Stuttering which made Magnus hide his mouth with a glove clearly grinning behind it.

“Like me too,hence the blushing when I fell on top of you or that time you ran into a wall turning to try go a different hallway or-.” Alec glanced around covering Magnus’ mouth a moment it was shoved off shortly after. “So now that we’ve both finally said that,and the whole school’s probably wishing took pictures of you dragging me onto the ground I think we should go on a date.”

He must just be red in the face,certain everybody had made it back to school grounds and any moment could be a teacher or whatever on their case. “Yeah okay,look how much is it killing you to not make an innuendo about what happened?” After all he was Magnus Bane the kid who once calmly in front of a teacher said he’d be better suited to teach sex ed because he'd not just glance over the important stuff.

“I mean-think it goes without saying but honestly think we almost made out unintentionally,and you looked great laying there underneath me.” Alec groaned and that only prompted one more remark as headed towards everybody slowly filing into school. “Or in the terms you use often,the universe decided how things should be.” Blinking never knew people noticed the slight habit of his blaming the universe as a whole,jokingly for things at times. Then there was silence as they were surrounded by other kids,teachers again. Alec slipping away to find his car,or siblings really whichever came first and trying to shake the smile which he’d noticed on his face.

#malec au fic #malec au fics #malec au fanfic #malec au fanfics #malec #(There was two ways to go about this so I decided to do both)#(I'd say this is all fiction-but some of these events did happen in real life except was different)#(But that's a boring story nobody wants to know)

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worlduniversityrp-blog · 6 years

Text

Accepted Denmark App

Accepted! Please have a blog up within the next week, and send the URL to this blog so we can add you to the members page @brunchhater

OOC

NAME: Eliza PRONOUNS: she/her CONTACT URL: brunchhater.tumblr.com

CHARACTER WANTED: Denmark! ACTIVITY LEVEL: A solid 5!!! TIMEZONE: South Eastern U.S time PASSWORD: accepted MEMBERS PAGE ICON:

((this is formatted poorly I’m sorry, I can resend the icn full sized if you want though!!! If its easier too, also link!: http://paperdrawsshit.tumblr.com/))

EXTRA: Yes! I’m in school and I work so I might be slow or won’t do replies till either late at night or early in the morning depending on the day!

FULL NAME: Magnus Frederick Densen AGE / YEAR: AGE AND YEAR: 21, 3rd year/Junior GENDER / PRONOUNS: He/Him pronouns

APPEARANCE: AT LEAST 1 PARAGRAPH: Magnus is a strikingly tall 6’3 man with wild, thick blonde hair and blue eyes. He’s got the build of a hockey player since that was the sport he stuck with since middle school and is quite muscular but doesn’t know his own strength. Magnus is covered in freckles on his cheeks, shoulders, and thighs but has only the occasional mole on his arm. He has a scar over his collarbone that’s a brighter pink color and a lighter scar across the bridge of his nose. Along with that he has a very charming smile which includes dimples.

PERSONALITY: AT LEAST 1 PARAGRAPH: The best way to describe him is an overexcited puppy who fumbles over things. Magnus has a heart of gold and is a really good person, he’s easily excitable and even easier to please and distract. He’s very gentle and caring but has no vocal control and unfortunately is already a naturally loud person. He’s the friend that’ll let you cry on his shoulder but won’t let you leave without him giving his two cents and making sure you accept it. Gives good advice for many things but has issues taking his own advice. When he actually does get angry it comes in the form of terrifying silence and a very disappointed look on his face. It’s quiet and it hardly happens, it’s the same when he’s sad. He doesn’t like showing his negative emotions because it’s a personal belief of his that just because he feels bad doesn’t mean other people should. However this can be irritating to even him because he just won’t ask for help when he’s suffering.

SKILLS:

Hockey! He’s been playing hockey since he was 11, very strong because of this so his strength is strength but hockey strength.

This is a talent, he’s really good with graphic design and art in general. Especially with color theory and making things look aesthetically pleasing even though he looks a whole mess. Its ironic

Resilient, if there’s a will there’s a way and Magnus knows how to find a way to do anything especially when asked. He won’t stop until he accomplishes or gets something.

Team-Player, good with people, a huge people person, very good with team building exercises and group projects. Definitely is the glue in friendships sometimes. However he’s also a natural leader most (some) of the time.

FLAWS:

Puts others before himself, He’ll ignore his own problems just to help other people and has the worst habit of doing this to a point where it actually hurts his mental stability, grades, etc. Doesn’t see it when people point it out to him.

Has a slight ego, he takes a lot of pride in stuff he does well and any compliment he gets makes him feel invincible. Which goes to his head and gets him hurt (sometimes, or he gets a bit cocky)

He has Celiac disease, parties are awful for him especially with beer. Sometimes he forgets he has celiac and its pain for him and sometimes those around him. Occasionally gags when he smells bread from the bad memories and pain.

Overworks himself most of the time and is tired close to 24/7, operates on caffeine and love for everything.

BACKSTORY:

Magnus was raised as an only child to a single mother. He lived with his grandmother and her and was taught a lot of fundamentals. His grandmother used to tell him that if he felt bad he should turn that bad energy into something good. He picked up baking from her and developed the habit of being a do gooder from a young age. Upon entering elementary school he started to realize things about his family such as their financial stability and that it was not like his classmates. His mother paid for him to go to private school since he entered school and the difference between him and his classmates settled into stone with him at a very young age.

Throughout his school years Magnus was always very bright, he picked up on new things really quickly and wanted to learn as much as he could to show his mom that he was grateful for the education she essentially bought for him. He was offered to skip a year in elementary and took it nearly instantly. This put him against older kids who unfortunately looked down at him and doubted his abilities. He pulled through and tried to be nice despite their odd resentment of him (which was something he didn’t pick up on) he did make friends but never any truly close ones until he got into middle school.

In middle school he switched over to a different private school that focused more on getting into a prepatory high school. He became interested in the hockey team because he hadn’t heard of the sport before. Upon signing up for try-outs he made a good friend at the same time who was also signing up. Of course he ended up making it onto the team and that granted him the gift of friendship when he needed it most. Middle school is basically horrible to everyone and Magnus was no exception as he grew like a weed and it became obvious to his classmates that he wasn’t like them on the economical class level.

Teasing came to him in the form of mocking his income, something he didn’t quite get because out of all things, they chose that? It was absurd to him for a while until he finally got that they were mad because he was lumped into their ‘rich’ group of kids per se. He decided to prove them wrong entirely though. Every time a tease came his way he’d just laugh it off and talk about how lucky he was to be getting a good education, and oh yeah isn’t he the only one with an A in Entering Physics? He thought so. It easily blew over him on the outside but inside he knew his mom was struggling. So he worked even harder, especially with hockey to get a scholarship.

During his 8th grade year he was scouted by a private high school interested in giving him a hockey scholarship which was astounding to him because he’d only thought that applied to colleges and university but he accepted immediately. He switched schools, teams, and classes all together and was proud to come home to his mother and tell her about it. When he saw the way she smiled it made him truly happy with himself. He’d done something right, his hard work paid off and he was on his way to success.

High school was a lot easier, everyone seemed to love him except for his Algebra 1 teacher who hated that he was so fond of correcting her work. Magnus started knowing when he was right and wasn’t afraid to speak out about it either. It went to his ego though, even his peers loathed his brightness so he decided to play dumb- to be more well liked while keeping his grades up as much as possible. Instead he decided to make jokes in class, ones that even got teacher's’ sides in stitches. He took pride in that too, how he was able to make people happy. However highschool was also when his celiac gave him a run for the worst and he was constantly sick during his sophomore year and tried to push through it.

He tried to do a hockey game during its worst boughts and instead of having his head in the game he was focused on the lights around him. Overwhelmed he actually managed to get hit dead in the nose with the hockey puck and it left a nice scar from where it split his skin over the bridge of his nose.( He does change the story every time he tells it.) His coach sat him down and asked if he was okay and Magnus told him how sick he’d been feeling the past month and it miraculously ended in a doctor’s referral, one emergency room visit, and medication to treat the previous damage. It could’ve been worse but he was glad that he got better before junior year.

Junior year was eventful because not only did Magnus do hockey and decided to take all AP classes, he also got a job to help his mothers and grandmother with bills. He juggled all three things with only one spare piece of thread and nearly went insane during that year from stress. If it weren’t for hockey being a way to get his emotions out he’s positive he would’ve been a lot angrier towards others than he was. Something he felt guilty over always was his anger even though it never showed in typical signs of yelling,he’d always apologize to people for being mean but they never got it and he felt too guilty about his feelings to explain them really. Something he still does to date but he’s better at managing it.

During this year he picked one of his majors, marketing after he designed a poster for the school play. He was always good with colors and drawing but never really pursued it, taking favor in as many academic courses as he physically could. What got im interested in it even more was during a career fair where he heard a used cars salesman and realized that that was something he could TOTALLY do. Plus he could work for all sorts of people or run his own marketing business entirely if he wanted. He also wanted to do broadcasting, he was always told he had a “tv worthy” personality so when it came to applying for college he decided to major in both.

Lucky for him his transcript provided his first college with all of his credits and the massive amount of classes he took and his consistently exceptional grades. At first he got into a prestigious school and did that for two years before he decided that he didn’t like it. Even though he was in on academic scholarship he wanted a break from the people he’d been surrounded with all of his life. Tired of- stereotypical rich people.

So he decided to apply for World University, it was a chance to leave where he grew up and start over entirely knew. With his perfected ‘English’ accent and grammar into place he put great effort into applying and making sure his credits were in order to transfer. Upon being accepted he was so entirely happy that he did indeed cry because what was even better was that he actually had more resources in America, especially Manhattan for his broadcasting America.

Magnus couldn’t wait to see what the school could give to him and what he could give back.

HEADCANONS:

Real life FC is Lucky Blue Smith

Has a birthmark in the shape of Denmark right above his butt

Terrified of small dogs (he’s a big clumsy man and doesn’t want to hurt them)

Casually watches Project Runway when he’s studying

Speaks 4 languages (including Danish, English, Spanish, and (some) old norse.)

MAJOR(S): Double major in Marketing and Broadcasting

MINORS: N/A (he doesn’t take a minor he’s too busy!!

COURSES: SOME SPECIFIC COURSES THEY TAKE FOR THEIR MAJOR/MINORS. (OPTIONAL):Product Management.,Retail and Sales Management, Logistical Strategies,Media Planning, and Editing.

SHIPS:

OTP(S): PAIRINGS YOU LIKE/ARE WILLING TO DO: Anything for the most part? I am typical and like Den/Nor and Den/Ame but I’m not exactly picky choosy with it either. The more obscure the ship the more fun, y’know?

NOTP(S): Basically adult/minor ships but I don’t know if that’ll be an issue in this ring or not (correct me if I’m wrong!)

WRITING SAMPLE:

Magnus didn’t realize he’d overslept for his midterm until it was too late. His alarm had never gone off and when he looked at his clock and realized that it was 10:30 he felt something inside him snap and die- part of his soul leave him. He sucked in a breath and launched himself out of bed, putting on some clothes and shoes and hunting down his book bag. He couldn’t BELIEVE he was late for his midterm, god he was gonna fail- his professor was going to fail him and he was going to die on the streets cold and alone with nothing but his impression of a used car salesman and that bad magazine spread. He tried swallowing down his fear as he brushed his teeth and made a mad dash out of his dorm and out of the housing building entirely. Magnus tried to dodge people on the way, swerving, keeping a good spring up most of the time. He cursed the journalism building for being a 30 minute walk across campus for him. His ribs were aching and he felt like he couldn’t breathe just as he literally crashed into someone. “SHIT- I mean! Crap, I’m sorry- are you okay- I was running I didn’t see you and you’re so small and-” His words came out between pants as he extended his arm towards the person he ran into. “Are you alright?” He asked, voice softer than it was before.

#application #1p #submission #aph denmark

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yetanotheremptypage · 7 years

Text

Lucky (Girl Meets World)

AO3 || FF

Riley grows up in academia, learns how to be quiet by sitting in libraries while term papers are written and rewritten, how to read by quizzing her parents with flashcards, and how to love in the too-small apartment she doesn’t remember by the time she’s five.

The first few months of Riley’s life are a balancing act. Senior year means theses, and grad school applications, and job hunts, and circling apartment ads in every newspaper they can find. Topanga and Cory fight, trying to figure out who has to give up what to make this work. Eric, as annoying as he is sometimes, is a great babysitter, never fails to make Riley laugh, and is the only reason they haven’t all killed each other yet. For Cory’s birthday, the Matthews parents send them a fat check that rests, uncashed, on their kitchen table for weeks, then Riley gets a stomach bug and can’t keep anything down, spends a night in the ER with an IV hooked up to her, and that check-- and the Easter one, and half of the Mother’s Day one-- goes to hospital bills. By the time the Father’s Day one rolls around, Topanga has a summer job as a law clerk and Cory’s waiting tables when not in his Teach For America training. Their apartment is a shoebox and they can’t turn on the AC too often, but Riley, the sweetheart she is, doesn’t even seem to realize anything is off about their current living arrangement.

Cory and Topanga have a plan. She goes to law school full-time. Cory is doing Teach For America during the day and chipping away at his master’s at night. Riley is passed around between them and Eric and daycare and the nice old man upstairs. They’re constantly exhausted, barely have time to do more than kiss as they trade off who’s holding Riley, but neither of them would give up their life, their little girl, for the world.

Most of the time, the plan works.

The first time it doesn’t, Topanga almost cries. Almost. Cory has parent-teacher conferences all night, daycare is closed, Eric has somehow gotten mono, the old man upstairs is out of town since his daughter had just had a baby, and she has a paper due in two days and needs to spend time at the library. She lays the landline back down in the cradle and sighs, running a hand through her hair, then makes her decision.

Riley’s first time in a library is at ten months old, dressed in a Jack-o-lantern onesie and wrapped in a thick purple blanket. She sits calmly in her carseat, chewing on a ring of plastic keys and batting the collection of things attached to the handle. Being a college library in the middle of midterms, the baby is a perfect distraction, and random people keep coming up to Topanga and asking if they can play with her baby. She agrees, because it makes Riley smile to have people play peek-a-boo with her. One boy is in the creative writing MFA program and reads her part of the story he’s working on, asks her questions she can’t answer but rather coos to and he interprets how he wants. A girl majoring in German speaks to her in only German so she can get some practice in, and Riley stares at her in confusion. Another girl, this one in pre-med, names every bone in Riley’s body, pointing each one out, and Riley squirms, laughing every time the girl finds one of her ticklish spots.

In four hours, Topanga has written two and a half new pages, bookmarked six more sources, and gotten the numbers of twelve new babysitters.

After three years, Topanga graduates magna cum laude from law school.

It is a perfect day.

Riley wears a yellow dress the little girl describes as “fluffy” and shiny white ballet flats. She skips around the hall the graduation is being held in while Cory, unsuccessfully, tries to calm her down. Topanga laughs from her place in line and Cory grins his goofy little grin at her.

The next week, Topanga begins her true job, not just an internship, at Elliott Brown. By the end of the summer, she’s already been promoted.

Once Topanga’s started at Elliott Brown, Cory quits Teach for America. He has just a few classes left for his master’s, and is able to be a full-time student for a semester to get it all done. He goes back to working part-time at the café six blocks from their apartment. Day care is expensive, after all.

Just before finals, Cory goes to a job fair and is introduced to the principal of John Quincy Adams Middle School, who is looking for a new history teacher for the upcoming school year.

This man is none other than Jonathan Turner.

He calls Shawn that night and the two catch up. It’s been awhile since Shawn’s come around, and they spend the night talking like a young, lovesick high school couple. Shawn tells Cory about Los Angeles, and Houston, and Chicago, and Atlanta. Cory tells Shawn about Topanga, and school, and work, and Riley, always Riley. Shawn always seems to clam up when told about his unofficial niece, nods and says, “That’s great, Cor,” with little to no emotion behind it. He’s so wrapped up in his daughter that he almost doesn’t notice.

...Almost.

The summer after Cory graduates, they move into a new apartment. It was a graduation present from her and their parents, and technically Riley pitched in what she could find in the couch cushions ($3.27). It is big, and spacious, and within weeks, it becomes clear that Riley is not going to remember their shoebox. It’s almost upsetting, really. That’s the apartment she spent the majority of her life in, with all of her secondhand furniture. One of the few signs is that she still piles herself up in blankets and sweatshirts once it gets cold outside, like she expects the heat to not be on.

Topanga takes the morning off so she can take Riley to her first day of kindergarten. Cory had already said goodbye to her before he left for JQAMS that morning, and there had been lots of tears-- on his part. Topanga thinks she’s going to be stronger.

She thinks.

“You’re going to love kindergarten so much, Riley,” she whispers, straightening her little girl’s pigtails. The mother just behind Riley’s shoulder is glaring at her, clearly aware that this mother is at least ten years younger than her, and so she does her best to focus just on her little girl’s big smile. She doesn’t want to focus on anything else.

“Daddy says it’s like preschool,” Riley says sagely, and Topanga laughs and nods. “But with homework.” She wrinkles her nose at that. She’s been around homework her whole life, after all, and Cory’s procrastination sessions are legendary in their household. A bell rings and Topanga straightens up, taking her daughter’s hand.

On her way back, wiping away tears, she practically runs into…

“Stuart?”

“Topanga!”

As she walks away, she can’t resist texting Cory, You’ll never believe who I just saw.

Five blocks over, Cory’s phone buzzes loudly in the middle of reading his class syllabus and he jumps.

“Sorry, that’s probably my wife- my daughter starts kindergarten today-”

“Wait, Mr. M, how old are you?” a boy in the back of the class asks loudly. One of his friends slaps his arm. “It’s a fair question! Look at him; he looks fresh out of college!”

“I’m actually twenty-six, Mister… Lawrence. Ha, that’s my wife’s maiden name. Got any cousins named Topanga?” he teases, rambles, really. A girl in the front of the classroom shoots her hand up. “Yes, Ms… Quinby.”

“If you’re twenty-six, and your daughter is presumably five, that means she was born when you were twenty-one, when you were likely still in college. Isn’t that a little young to become a parent?”

He flounders.

Cory opens the door to Riley’s room to call her for dinner and finds two girls in it.

He’s not embarrassed to admit he screeches a little bit.

“Who are you?”

“Daddy, this is Maya Penelope Hart and she’s my best friend!” Riley announces. He smiles, though it feels a little more like a wince.

“Maya, don’t you need to be getting home? It’ll be dark soon.”

“It’s okay. My parents probably won’t notice I’m gone.” That strikes a chord with him, and he asks for her phone number. She frowns, but then rambles it off, and Topanga graciously calls it. The woman on the other end, Katy, thanks them profusely, tells them she had been worried sick. Tells them she is about to leave for her shift at the Nighthawk, but that her husband would let them in.

Cory takes Maya home, and Riley insists on tagging along. Their apartment is far enough away to be in another school district, the same one his Teach for America gig was in, though he was with high schoolers, not elementary schoolers. He knocks on the apartment door, but there’s no response. Maya is about to knock on the neighbor’s door when someone calls her name and an older woman rushes in, pulling Maya close. Her grandmother, live in, basically a nanny. She opens the door, and while Riley doesn’t seem to notice anything-- Thank God for that he can’t help but think-- he does. It might as well be the apartment he and Topanga lived in after their graduation from college. Gammy-- she hasn’t offered her name and he hasn’t gotten the chance to ask it, but that’s what Maya called her-- only seems about his parents’ age, so Katy and her husband-- was it Kevin?-- must be somewhere around his age. He almost laughs. He and Topanga never expected to meet other parents with first graders but still in their twenties, and now they know two.

“What would you think about having another baby?”

Cory’s head snaps up from the paper he’s grading to look at his wife. Her computer is open and her hands are on the keys, but she’s looking at him.

“What?”

“Riley mentioned wanting to be a big sister when I was tucking her in. And-”

“Now you’re thinking about it,” he says and she nods, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear nervously. Now he thinks about it. They’re settled now, with well-paying jobs, an apartment certainly big enough for four people, and a daughter with the biggest heart in the world.

He loves being a dad. Topanga is a brilliant mom.

“So?”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

Just four months later, he’s buying a pregnancy test on his way home from work, and it’s positive.

Riley had been excited to be a big sister, but when the day finally arrived, it was like she’d clammed up. When he comes to relieve Mrs. Svorski sixteen hours after leaving his little girl, she is curled up in a ball on the couch, crying.

“Riley!” he cries, rushing over to her and pulling her close in his arms. “What’s wrong?”

“I thought you and Mommy left! Like Maya’s daddy!” That sentence makes his blood run cold. Was that why Katy had been avoiding his calls?

“What happened to Maya’s daddy, sweetheart?” he asks instead, running his hand through her hair.

“He went for a walk last week and hasn’t come back. Maya doesn’t know where he is,” she manages to say around hiccups. Cory clutches Riley closer.

“I’m not leaving you or your brother, that I promise you, okay?”

“Okay,” she mumbles out.

Over the next few years, he watches his two girls-- because, he’s decided, Maya is his now. He knows about Kermit from Katy, knows how they lived their life and he knows that things are going to be different. He watches Maya slowly crumble, watches the walls go up as Katy spends more and more time at the Nighthawk and at auditions. Isla-- Kermit’s mother, Gammy Hart-- does her best, but it’s not the same. She, after all, is working weird, long hours so she can watch Maya. Cory watches, and it breaks his heart that he and Topanga can’t do more.

Instead, he sets an extra place setting at the table, and comforts Riley when Maya’s problems make her cry and ask why Maya is so sad while she herself is so happy. He can’t answer that one for her, which breaks his heart. After all, he and Topanga had been in the same situation as Kermit and Katy back when they had found out about Riley, but somehow, they had made it out. They had gotten to a great place in their lives, with their two kids and their great jobs and amazing apartment.

Of course, Riley doesn’t remember life before this apartment, and because of that, doesn’t realize just exactly how lucky she is. And that breaks his heart more than anything, because it will be years before she ever understands.

Riley starts John Quincy Adams Middle School at age ten. She no longer wears hair bows or pigtails, but still wears her Mary Janes from time to time. She’s almost as tall as her mother, just as awkward as her father, and her bright pink braces decorate every single one of her many, many smiles. Maya is by her side every step of the way, their arms threaded together. He knows the next few years are going to be difficult for them, that things are going to pit them against each other and bring them even closer, but he also knows that things between them won’t be this close forever. He, after all, barely speaks with Shawn anymore. Jack only recently accepted his friend request on Facebook, Rachel rarely talks to anyone that isn’t Eric, and no one’s heard from Angela since she and Shawn went their separate ways.

In the staff room all day, he is practically showered with compliments for his daughter, how well-behaved she is, and some wise soul has mentioned how close Riley and Maya are, so she gets the same treatment. He’s a proud father, so he can’t help but believe it.

By the time they’ve reached his seventh grade history class, though, he knows they’re not quite as sugar and spice as they’ve been presented, and setting off the sprinklers with a sparkler while inciting a homework rebellion cements this.

In the blink of an eye, his daughter is a high school graduate with an acceptance letter to New York University framed on her wall. She had fallen in love with it early in her sophomore year, but had spent every second since then telling whoever would listen that she wouldn’t get in, had even set up her list with “dream school” NYU and “realistic number one” Syracuse, but then she did. Maya, of course, had done the exact same with the Pratt Institute, but now she was in. Farkle’s ED acceptance to Princeton hadn’t been a surprise. Lucas was headed back to Texas, Zay to California, and Smackle to Princeton, just like the two of them had vowed years ago.

It’s weird for him that his daughter is going to college but not moving out. Then again, with the astronomical tuition of NYU, he doesn’t want her to ever live in campus housing.

As he watches from the stage with all the other teachers while the graduates toss up their caps, he catches Topanga’s eye from the audience. Auggie is beside her on one side, his hair swaying everywhere as he jumps up and down. Shawn and Katy are standing on her other side, their arms wrapped around each other. She smiles widely back at him, tears pooling in her eyes, and he flashes back to that heart-stopping moment he found the What To Expect When You’re Expecting book on their old and ratty banged up coffee table eighteen years ago. He had been so terrified, yet somehow, despite everything, Riley is perfect. She leans over to pick her cap off the floor, and once she’s back up, Lucas and Maya have their arms wrapped around her, and all six of them are in a big group hug at the edge of the stage. Tears are rolling down his face, but he smiles. Yeah, he and Topanga are pretty lucky.

#girl meets world #riley matthews #cory matthews #topanga matthews #cory x topanga #fanfiction

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