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inaflashimagine · 7 months

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Did someone say a Nagumo fic? I would like to see it 🤲🏽

ask and you shall receive (pasting 2k below bc i'm unhinged)

–

You’re considering poisoning the vice principal of JCC.

It’s still in the planning phase, of course. But the true challenge, if this impossible task were to ever be achieved, would lie in the execution portion. Before leaving the airtight rooms of the laboratories, all students in the poisons department must properly discard any concoctions they’ve made in the fume hood (and any other chemicals that require extra care in their disposal are handled by the 24/7 toxic waste team). As many faculty in the department often repeat during their classes, the greatest poisons a student could ever make are arrogance and ignorance. For that reason alone, anything made for off-campus assignments is safely stored by lab managers in the school’s securely locked freezer until they must be given out.

Not to mention that every poisons professor also practices their due diligence by constantly updating the school chemicals inventory, which includes keeping track of the approved materials and poison recipes that students can take out of an extensive library of hazardous reagents, toxic substances, and highly coveted venoms.

That doesn’t mean that students haven’t tried to outsmart faculty or find a loophole in the system. Third-year Tanaka Kaito thought sneaking out with the tiny glass bottle containing his newest poison inside his mouth was a smart choice; and it might’ve been, if he hadn’t tripped over the lab assistant’s foot, which, coincidentally, happened to be in his way. Peers smarter than him have managed to avoid ruptured intestines or chemically burnt mouths, but considering these individuals–of which there are many–still fail and end up being expelled, stealing such precious items is not a risk many in your department are willing to take.

You understand the delicate position JCC is placed in when students break the institutional rules; since the JAA requires any poisons that are used by assassins or during non-educative assignments to be manufactured by those with a toxicology license, it makes sense that the JCC would adopt the most stringent guidelines to avoid a bad reputation.

Still. It doesn’t hurt to dream–or at least, you can’t get expelled for wishful thinking.

Besides, you have to find some way to pass the time in this dreadful class.

“Who are you thinking about killing this time?”

You blink, your eyes falling on the person who interrupted your delusions. The one who makes this class even more agonizing than should be tolerable.

“What makes you think I want to kill someone?” Flipping over the pages of your notebook to a blank one, you begin to scribble today’s course topic and can’t help but note the irony of you desperately wanting Ito-sensei to enter the room so he can start your least favorite class.

The Art of Espionage: For Intermediate Learners

From your periphery, you can see your dark-haired classmate leaning back into his desk chair as he deftly twirls a pocket knife in his hand, unfazed that all of his weight is balanced by one precious metal leg. He laughs lightly at your question, but it’s difficult to catch any mirth that follows it. “I always assumed only assassins carry bloodlust, but you proved me wrong. Though I guess I should’ve seen it coming.” His smile widens, a hint of smugness tugging the corner of his lips as he points the blade toward you like he’s just pointing a finger in your direction and not a potentially lethal weapon. “The ones in the poisons department do love holding grudges.”

You don’t know what others see in Nagumo. Sure, he’s objectively attractive–it would be stupid to argue that fact, and you’re not blind. And yeah, he’s one of the top second-year candidates in the intelligence-gathering department (though there are rumors of him wanting to transfer to the assassin program)–that’s not a surprise for someone who comes from a prominent family of spies, even if it is quite funny that the tidbit is well-known despite everything else about him being shrouded in the largest cloud of mystery…

…but any of those appealing characteristics seem to be thrown out the window the moment he begins to talk. And boy, does he talk.

“See, if I didn’t know any better,” he speaks up, yet again, eyes closed into half crescents as he cheerily jokes, “that annoyed look on your face says you wanna kill me!”

“Well, if you must know, you’re the third on the list. The first person is the vice principal for not switching me into another class.”

Each semester all JCC students must enroll in one class that falls outside the curriculum for their major. This is to ensure that their graduates are competent in all skills that they may need to succeed on the field or in the lab, even if it is unlikely they’d employ every skill on a daily basis. Since the best assassins, spies, weapons makers, and poison experts in the world are adept at rapidly adapting to different situations, it makes sense that the JCC would implement such a rule for their students. But that doesn’t mean you have to enjoy following said rules.

Your first semester at JCC wasn’t too bad. Technically, only third years can matriculate in poisoning classes–though there are a few introductory courses and practicums you can take starting your second year–so you’ve grown well accustomed to enrolling in classes that are beyond the usual chemistry and physics gambit. And since all students are allowed to rank their top choice electives, you were fortunate enough to get the History of Weapon Craft and Creation (considered one of the easier electives for those outside the weapons fabrication department).

The semester after, you barely passed Firearm Handling & Defensive Training, but at least that class improved your aim with the laser guns in the cafeteria, meaning getting less of those horrid JCC bowls. Yet your luck quickly ran out at the start of the second year, as this semester you now find yourself to be the only poisons department student in a room filled with good-looking, downright intimidating, and incredibly sharp intelligence-gathering students.

You have no idea how you were even allowed to take a class with prerequisites that are nested in the intelligence-gathering department, but your grievances fell on the deaf ears of administrative staff who didn’t even apologize for the scheduling mishap. (Then again, these are the same people who don’t bat an eye when students in the assassin department are gravely injured and even die during an assignment or in the middle of class. It’s no shocker that the second-year class size has considerably dwindled from last year.)

With all other courses being full, your choice was to stick to this option or switch to Martial Arts & Tactical Hand-to-Hand Combat for Advanced Learners. Even if you can’t avoid your fear of looking like an idiot in front of Japan’s future spies, you can at least evade the terror of literally dying by the hands of the country’s strongest assassins-in-training (you heard Sakamoto Taro was a killing machine, a fact you would be happy to simply believe rather than test out for yourself).

However, your earlier fears have now evolved into a living nightmare after Ito-sensei announced that everyone would be assigned a partner to work on assignments together throughout the semester. You didn’t know who Nagumo was until your roommate Aimi gasped at the mere mention of him (which isn't even his full legal name! What is he, Prince?). Banging your head against the wall might be a more pleasant experience than having to hear her complain–for the umpteenth time–that you get to learn from such a ‘genius’.

Admittedly, it's only been a few weeks into the semester, but you're still having trouble identifying the genius part.

“Wow, how scary! I’m terrified!” Nagumo sounds anything but after hearing your empty death threat. “Who’s the second?”

“None of your business.”

“Aw, don’t be like that! Do I know them?”

You think about it for a second, drawing the potential lines forming the network before shaking your head. “Well, actually, yes. Because congrats, you’ve just been bumped up to #2.”

He grins at that, big eyes crinkling. “See, now that’s a better response! But wait, am I third–”

“Second, now…”

“–right, second on the list because I forgot to do my part of the presentation? I swear I meant to get to it, but I got carried away with an outside mission.”

Genius? More like a lazy piece of shift, you think bitterly, eyes squinting at him to scrutinize what he’s hiding under those large dark eyes and that apparently innocuous grin. Of course, because you suck at intelligence-gathering, you come up with nothing other than a pathetic, “Stop lying, you sucky liar.”

The corners of his lips droop a bit further down than usual, but he still manages to adopt that customary smile of his and waits for another beat. Fully aware that the silence and staring make you uncomfortable.

“About the mission or getting the work done?”

“Both.”

“You’re funny!”

“See what I mean about the lying?”

The chair he’s sitting on instantly lands on all four, the harsh sound of pegs scratching the linoleum floors making you startle against your better judgment. One hand rests on his chin as he raises a brow at you, clearly amused. “But really, why would I lie about either part? If it makes you feel any better, I’ll make sure we get top marks on today’s presentation.”

You only have enough time to offer your exasperated sigh as an answer, since Ito-sensei finally walks in and announces the start of today’s presentations.

“Good afternoon everyone, apologies for my tardiness as a meeting went over. In preparation for your first exam next week, each group will be reviewing a different fundamental skill for carrying out espionage. First tactic: seduction.”

When you hear your name and Nagumo’s being called out, your suddenly heavy legs slowly drag their way to the front of the room, already anticipating to make a fool of yourself with your half-assed presentation on how to seduce a target, a skill all these students staring at you in boredom more than likely have performed a thousand times before.

Straightening your posture, you’re ready to begin your long unnecessary speech on the purpose of seduction until Nagumo yawns. Loudly.

The action has you momentarily pause, soft tittering spreading throughout the classroom until you narrow your eyes at your beaming partner, clear your throat, and continue.

“Seduction can be used as a weapon when the person employs the technique to obtain an objective, as seen in–"

“This demo we’re about to show!” Nagumo cuts in, waving his hands animatedly as if about to introduce a mesmerizing performing act. Your confusion only continues to grow as he sharply turns on his heel to face you, bewildered to see that his usual bright smile has been replaced with a more coquettish expression on his face.

“What are you–”

“The word seduction means to ‘lead astray’ in Latin. Doing such a thing means you have to observe your target’s every move. How they move. How they look at you. At others. At their surroundings.” Every step he takes forward means you take one step back. Until you find yourself hitting the wall, your eyes widening with how cold it feels against the back of your neck. “How they react. How they respond to you.”

He doesn’t even have you pinned, his arms laying idly by his sides while you dumbly acknowledge you can easily escape right now. But for some reason, you feel trapped under that curious gaze, the upward quirk of his lips sending a weird shiver up your spine.

“Catch the changes in their body language.” He tilts his head, and when strands of his shaggy black hair tickle your cheek you fully realize the distance–or lack thereof–between you two. “Are they fearful? Or are they open to receiving your advances? Do they approach you just as eagerly?”

Since when did he get so close?

You gulp when his hand dances over your hip while the other outstretched one reaches your face, and you hate how your head instinctively leans toward the motion. It becomes harder to stand your ground while your gaze flits back and forth between the inked numbers on his fingers and those half-lidded eyes, a darkness so rare with how inviting it seems.

As he delicately brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear you wonder if he can hear the frantic hammering of your heart against your chest. Even if he can’t catch it, you can tell by the slight way his eyes glisten that he certainly knows, and maybe even relishes, the effect he has on you–the way you’re futilely trying to snap out of the reverie you’re currently in, drunk in the smell of whatever woodsy fragrance he decided to wear today mixed with the sickly sweet scent of that caramel candy he was chewing on earlier.

Well, fuck.

“And it’s in that moment, when their mind is distracted and more focused on you than their own thoughts”–his nose brushes yours, and your breath hitches as all you can do is close your eyes–“is when you make your move.”

You feel your lungs deprived of air the second he presses you deeper into the wall, one hand still on your hip as he uses the other to swiftly grab a piece of paper tucked in the back pocket of your pants.

A sharp inhale is what returns you to reality, your jaw slackening upon seeing him retreat and wiggle the neatly folded piece of paper he stole from you.

“Nagumo,” you nearly growl as you feebly attempt to get it back from him, which only seems to get him more excited as his face breaks out into a full-blown grin and he waves the item higher with that freakishly long arm.

“Should I unfold it? Reveal to all the secret recipes?”

“Do it and you die!”

“Is that a joke or a threat?” As if he’s some film actor breaking the fourth wall, he turns his head toward your classmates and winks at them. “You can never tell with poisons students.”

The room erupts into laughter.

If only you did lace that paper with poison! You’re mentally preparing to fight (and definitely lose) to him when Ito-sensei’s booming voice keeps you two in check.

“That’s enough, I believe we extracted the main point of your presentation. Either return to your desks or report to the staff room after class for wasting more of our time.”

Both of you don’t need to be told twice–you practically sprint to your desk while an elated Nagumo hums a merry tune from behind, your mind still reeling from what just happened while the chaos in the room dies down and the next group begins their presentation on deception.

How the hell was Nagumo able to do all of that? A presentation you conducted research and rehearsed for around two hours was something he easily accomplished in less than five minutes. And with you as the guinea pig! The thought makes your cheeks burst into flames, but you refuse to hide your face for fear of appearing weaker.

“What did I tell you?” He tosses the paper into your lap–still folded into its original position–as he sends you one of those big smiles that used to give you the creeps but now seems to evoke some other inexplicable feeling. “Top marks!”

The urge to spit out “No thanks to you” is so strong that you have to bite your itching tongue, because that would be a fat lie. So you let out a spiteful ‘hmm’, twitching fingers creasing the folded paper even further.

“Wasn’t it fun teaming up?”

He’s still a bit too close for comfort when he whispers the question, so you lean forward into your desk, trying your best to ignore the buzzing coming from the pest.

“You and I have different definitions of fun.”

“And how would you define it?”

“Not being near you.”

“Guess I’m not the only sucky liar on this team!”

That earns him a glare as you plot several ways to wipe that pleased look off his face. You cross off a few bad ideas that you’re embarrassed your mind even conjured.

“The silent treatment, huh…Didn’t peg you to be the type who does that.”

The eye roll you offer him appears to be a sufficient answer as he lets out a small huff and pretends to listen to his classmates’ project, his bored yawn louder than whatever is being presented. You naively think you’ll be able to endure the remainder of the class without his yapping.

And then he turns to you once again, an impish spark in those large, curious eyes.

“But I just need to ask–what’s written on that piece of paper anyway?”

You press your lips firmly into a straight line and stare at him, bemused that he hasn’t figured it out. He matches your stare, looking at you expectantly. Maybe he’s pretending that he hasn’t read it–with how fast he is, you wouldn’t be surprised if he only needed one or two seconds to skim over the writing.

Then again, you’re the idiot for having a physical copy of your plan to cheat and steal from the school chemicals and rare toxins inventory.

“It’s my formula for a poison that I’ll use to kill you.” Like a psycho, you grin triumphantly upon seeing the way his mouth turns into a tiny shocked ‘O’.

And like the maniac he is, he’s quick to return your smile, though it doesn’t quite reach those indecipherable eyes. “Looking forward to it!”

You’re too proud to admit that you feel the same.

#reader is a psychotic raging bisexual who is obsessed with making poisons and is in love w rion and nagumo what about it #nagumo annoys the hell out of reader esp when reader becomes the poisons expert for the order #(while they also run a perfumery as a front lmfao - the side hustle if you will)#once sakamoto retires reader is so sick of having to now be the one to listen to nagumo #and heavily considers shutting up nagumo by 'poisoning' him (but only so he passes out for a bit)#in the meantime reader just gives meds for nagumo's carsickness but tbh they just make him more violently ill as payback for whatever #shenanigans he pulls on mc #bc no one in that school is sane everyone there is mentally ill and they def get more unhinged leaving it #sakamoto days is such a good read too i need it animated expeditiously so more people are exposed to the goodness that is that series #again this fic will one day be fleshed out once i get more info on my beloved rion #nagumo x reader #the chokehold nagumo has on me #still thinking about him in that ponytail...yeah...

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