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aheckinmess · 3 months ago

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Bullet in a Gun [Snipe] (Angst)

(One-shot 23/? in a collection of My Hero Academia one-shots posted regularly on Saturdays - and sometimes Sundays.)

Read on AO3.

Tags: Snipe, Choku Dan, Pro Hero Snipe, Snipe x OC, Snipe x Reader, Original Female Character(s), Ichijiku Aoki, Angst, And When I Say Angst, I Mean the Cliche Damsel in Distress This Time, I'm Not Sorry, I Committed to the Chivalrous Cowboy Trope, Snipe Rides in to Save the Day, I Gave Myself a Panic Attack Writing This, It Was Worth It, Snipe is So Underappreciated, I Did My Best to Remedy That, We Stay Writing 1.6K Words This Week

Word Count: 1,639 words

Summary: As Ichijiku contemplates life, a villain decides to make her contemplate her life specifically when he kidnaps her to get back at Snipe. As the clock for Ichijiku's life ticks down, Snipe finds a hint left behind as to where she's being held. When he finally arrives, he might be able to save her, but at what cost?

Ichijiku (Tigress)

If I stare at the sky for too long, it almost seems like a cardboard cutout, ready at any moment to fall forward and reveal its Great Creator behind it, spanning out into the dark, expansive realm of space. Will galaxies seem finite in the infinitesimal vacuum of space? Or will they only seem that much bigger with my own microscopic existence soiling the atmosphere?

Those thoughts plague my mind before a blue-haired man with tattoos wrestles me out of my rocking chair and through my house to steal me away.

Now, tied to a railroad track and left with nothing but the sky to look at, I’m not wondering about the vast expanse of the heavens any more. I’m wondering what Snipe will think of my absence. Will he think I’m ready to move on from our year-long relationship, unaware of my predicament? Or will he be lost and confused, distraught when he doesn’t find my warning in time?

Death doesn’t even cross my mind, despite the fact that Chameleon makes it very clear I’ll be dying at precisely 3:00pm.

“You’re awfully calm for someone in this situation.”

“You’ll have to forgive me. I’m an introvert and not entirely sure how I should respond to this.” My tone is, in fact, far more calm than it should be. “If this is your idea of catching a date, you’ve got the wrong idea. This isn’t a girl’s idea of a fun time, nor is it what she means when she says she wants to be railed.”

“Shut up. That’s hardly an appropriate response.” I hear him huff out a breath before he continues. “You’re not nearly as fun as I’d hoped. I’d been banking on hearing you scream until you lost your voice.” He drawls, apparating into existence in my line of sight.

What I thought to be a simple blue, turns out to be iridescent scales camouflaging him with every winking beam of sunlight, a kaleidoscope of color with every step he takes. He might be handsome if he didn’t just hogtie me to the tracks.

“I’m so sorry to disappoint you.” I roll my eyes as I glare at him. “But it’s Snipe’s job to make me scream, you know.”

A moment later he’s got a rope tied around my mouth, effectively gagging me.

“On second thought, it’s far too irritating listening to you talk. You have no class.” He crosses his arms across his chest before looking down one side of the tracks. “But don’t worry. You’ll be screaming soon.”

When I feel the ground rumbling beneath me followed by a thunderous horn in the distance, panic sweeps through my chest. Even so, death still isn’t my first thought. Instead, I squeeze my eyes shut and think of Snipe. I think of the sky. I think of infinity and my cat and love letters and regrets and what could have been.

Only when I see the approaching silhouette of the train do I allow myself a fleeting thought for death.

. . . . .

It’s 2:23pm when Snipe dismounts from his horse. It’s 2:25 when he whips past the overturned rocking chair and bursts into her open door, barely hanging onto its hinges.

It’s 2:26 when he finds the note plastered to her fridge.

Been a while since we’ve had a fair fight, Snipe. Let’s see if you’re still on your A-game. Your lady dies at three o’clock sharp. See if you can save her in time.

Snipe’s world is out of sorts. The world is not in harmony because she should be here and she should be making tea. She should be turning to the door with that blue-ribbon winning smile as he offers her a bouquet of her favorite flowers. She should be gazing into the corral of his eyes that he leaves open just for her.

She should not be gone.

Snipe slams his fist into the wall trimming, using the pain to pull himself back together. He doesn’t have time to waste. No time at all. Time that ticks down with every second he spends rummaging through the house, searching for any sign of where Chameleon might have taken her.

He’s nearly given up hope by 2:35, where he sinks to his knees and reminds himself to breathe. She will not die. She will be in his arms again. She will hide little love letters in his hat-shaped ring box that once housed her engagement ring now sitting on her finger.

Love letters. Without thinking, he opens the box and what should he find but a note? A blue, crumpled sticky note folded more haphazardly than the rest, and on it is a scribbled word in her handwriting: train.

The box falls to the floor and the door slams shut as Snipe leaps onto his horse and spurs the mare to motion, flying through the forest and into the open plains like a bat out of hell.

When a train comes into view, his eyes follow the tracks on an uncomfortably close trajectory towards two figures. He knows even as he urges Kuroashi faster that he won’t make it.

At 2:59 he aims his gun.

. . . . .

The train is here. It’s close enough to feel the heat from its smoky breath as it rattles the tracks. All sounds drown out from the steady rhythm of chug-a-chug-a-choo-choo until my brain turns the cadence into an ominous Death is coming for you.

The train is here. The train is here. Death is here and all I can worry about is whether or not Snipe will keep the box for my engagement ring. Will he hold it when he wants to remember me? Or will he get rid of everything so he doesn’t have to remember what he lost?

Chameleon’s timer goes off to the sound of a gunshot.

Click. Clank. The switch lever swerves with the tracks and suddenly the train zooms past me, still far too close for comfort, but no longer on course to swallow me with its iron jaws. The warmth of the train mingles with adrenaline and suddenly I can’t stop wiggling and whimpering in my restraints, muscles buzzing as I fight to get off these damn tracks.

“More vocal now, huh?” Chameleon hisses, disappearing and activating his quirk just as Snipe rides into range.

“MMPH!” I try to warn him.

But his camouflaged offender sends him flying off his horse and into the dirt, gun still primed in his hand. He’s on his feet quickly, but what can he do? I watch helplessly as Snipe’s homing quirk becomes useless. How does one shoot what he can’t see?

My eyes scour the dirt, searching for footprints and other minute signs of his movement. When a cloud of dust swirls by Snipe’s feet, I thrash in my bindings, desperately trying to free myself and help him. My fiancé’s head arcs back into the ground from his unseen adversary, kick-starting my heart.

Blood drips from his nose as keen, pro-hero eyes start searching for the same tell-tale signs of Chameleon’s movements I’ve been watching for. It costs him a hit in the stomach and his ribs, but he analyzes his foe’s movements to reclaim the upper hand. Snake battles snake in the hot, barren plains while my body quivers with fear.

All it takes is another dust cloud and bam! Snipe wrestles the invisible villain into the ground, appearing to fight air until Chameleon relinquishes use of his quirk.

“Glad to see you’re still in tip top shape, Snipe.” Chameleon growls, turning his glare to me as Snipe pulls out the restraining tape. “But you cut it kind of close, and next time she won’t be so lucky.”

“There won’t be a next time if you’d prefer to keep breathing.” Snipe barks out, his voice feral and sharp.

Snipe gets Chameleon’s hands behind his back and calls the cops as he sprints in my direction. Calloused hands act as a balm to the tremors tainting my muscles. When he cuts the bindings loose, he grabs my face and presses his forehead to mine; we share each others’ oxygen, our eyes promising the other what our mouths can’t say right now - I’m here and you’re safe and I’m not going anywhere.

My life remains finite while stretching infinitely before me, stretching straight out for Snipe.

I don’t ever want to let him go.

“You’re okay.” He whispers; it’s hard to tell whether he says this for me or himself. “Are you hurt? Did he do anything before he tied you up?”

“A few bruises and cuts.” My fingers card through his hair and slide down his cheek, soaking in every ridge and bump of his body. “And that’s only because I put up a fight before he got me here.”

“That’s my girl.” He grins and the world clicks back into place.

The heat sears my body and pain torments my bones as I become abruptly aware of the world around me. His presence anchors me as I’m swirling dangerously close to the edge of unconsciousness. He catches me with whispered coos, keeping me tethered for now.

“You’re having an adrenaline crash. And, hell, I can’t blame ya. But take a few deep breaths for me, okay, darlin’? Police should be here soon.”

It’s 3:34 when the police arrive to stuff Chameleon in the back of their car and EMTs arrive to check me for injuries. Only when the blinding blue and red lights disappear from my line of sight do I make myself stop counting the minutes.

“Do you want me to take you home?” Snipe whispers in my ear, securing a shock blanket around my shoulders.

“Not my house.” I whimper. “Will you take me to your place?”

“Of course, honey. I’ll keep you safe. Let’s go home.”

Want More Snipe? Try: Hanging Fire in the Pond

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