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sabraeal · 9 months

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don’t speak boyshit, Chapter 9

[Read on AO3]

“Inomata-san?” Most girls would be thrilled to be the object of attention for the Prince of Third Year, utterly breathless by the way his gaze follows them across a room, seeing sparkles with every bat of his eyelashes. “You’re looking very...determined this morning.”

The rest of the female student body might also squeal at the wisps of blond curling over their desk, thrilled that Yagi-kun deigned to rest his head so close to their own fingers. But Maria simply frowns, dropping her pencil case near enough to endanger his well-being. Or at least the integrity of his haircut. “I didn’t ask you.”

His smile tightens by the smallest flinch, imperceptible to anyone whose vision blurs to pink and bubbles when he breathes.

“Inomata-san.” It’s impressive how normal he can seem when there’s no chubby cheeks around to entice him. “I’m only trying to be friendly.”

“You should try that on someone who would appreciate it,” she suggests, sliding into her chair. It takes a moment for her to organize all her limbs-- girls may stop growing at her age, but she’s still never gotten used to all the extra inches-- but when she’s nearly folded and tucked, Yagi’s still there, curious. “There’s a whole classroom full of girls who don’t know you well enough to know there’s something wrong with you.”

One end of a perfectly shaped eyebrow twitches. “You really don’t mince words, do you?”

Maria squints down at him, the same way Galileo must have when he stared into the sun. “I’m not trying to impress you.”

The blinding brightness of his smile doesn’t blur or dim, but this close, Maria could swear a nerve jumps in his jaw. “That much is clear.”

“Yagi-kun...” After three years as the sole female in the Advanced Course who is safe to sit next to the Class Prince-- a dubious honor doled out her first year after the disastrous mid-term seat change-- she’s nearly in expert in the gradation of weariness in Nezu’s sighs. This one suggests that he should have stayed home if they were going to be in this sort of mood today. “Stop bothering Inomata-san.”

With all the speed guilt can provide, Yagi springs up from his seat, smile dialed up to its max wattage. “Ah, Chuukichi-kun, good morning! I wasn’t bothering her, we were only--”

Nezu slants her a dubious glance.

“I was handling it,” she assures him, “but thank you.”

“H-hey!” That sunny smile shines itself close to a grimace. “I mean it. I was just trying to compliment her.”

With a toss of his head, the wild thicket of Nezu’s hair parts just enough to reveal a rare glimpse of his forehead-- one that is furrowed with incredulity. “Uh-huh.”

“Really! Inomata-san came in with a spring in her step. Or, er--” his voice falters under the strength of their combined stare “--as close as she comes. I assume this means that you had some progress with your romantic endeavors.”

It’s Maria’s turn for her eyebrows to take a hike up her forehead. “Excuse me?”

“That’s what you’ve been frowning over the past few weeks, isn’t it?” He darts a glance at Nezu, as if confirmation might come from that quarter, only to be met with resounding confusion. “You said Inomata-san asked you about boys just a few weeks ago, right, Chuukichi-kun?”

He has the grace to flinch under her glare. “Ah, yes, but I didn’t think you’d, er...”

Be interested, the slope of his shoulders says. His glare, however, implies, didn’t think you’d run your mouth off about it.

“I was surprised you didn’t come to me.” Yagi’s popularity has always been one of life’s mysteries, another sign that she’s not like the other girls in her class, a statistical outlier destined to go uncounted. But looking at him now, all concerned and earnest and every inch what a class president should be--

Well, it’d be easy to get twitterpated under this sort of attention. If she didn’t know the precise amount of tissues he goes through when the children play house.

“I’d be happy to help you.” Under the spotlight of his smile, it’s a struggle not to shrink back, to raise a hand to make some shade. “Between the two of us, I’m sure we can figure this guy out.”

Nezu snorts. “You’ve never even been on a date.”

“Neither have you, and you got to help,” Yagi reminds him with his usual maddening calm. “I’m a boy, aren’t I? I’m sure that’s enough similarity for Inomata-san to--”

“Absolutely not!” The very idea that she could apply advice from this man and apply it to Kashima-- her skin shivers at the thought. “The two of you don’t have a single thing in-- in--”

(Shouldn’t it bother you that you’re stuck here with us? Usaida’s grin says he already knows the answer. I think most seventeen year olds would prefer to be celebrating with their friends.

Oh, no no! Kashima’s smile isn’t even the littlest bit strained. I like being here. The kids are so excited, and er... He must forget she’s here, playing house with Kirin in the corner, since he mutters, I think they’re a little easier to deal with than my classmates sometimes.)

“Really?” Yagi arches one of those perfect eyebrows of his; a girl three rows back squeals. “Not one thing?”

(He’s getting too big for it now, Kashima sighs, listing close enough to her that the cotton of his button-down brushes hers, but sometimes I just want to-- to-- it’s charming, how red he flushes --pinch his cheeks! Just a little.)

“It just wouldn’t work.” Her fingers curl, nails too short to cut her palms the way she’d like. It’d be grounding, if they could. “A-and you’re too late anyway! I already found someone else to help me.”

Yagi blinks, jaw so slack he could catch flies with it. “You don’t say. Who offered to...?”

“That’s privileged information.” Maria stifles a grimace. It’s the same answer her father pulls from his pocket every time she pushes too hard and too long on why she isn’t allowed to go to sleepovers, or about the Sunday plans that are too rigid to allow her to see a movie on Saturday, but-- well the last thing she needs is word getting around that she needs help from Kamitani. He’s not even in the Advanced Class. “And in any case, their advice will be much more helpful than anything you could give me.”

There’s a moment where that sunlight flickers, Yagi’s mouth flirting with the beginning of a frown before his mood clears to bright skies once again. “Is that so? I would have figured that someone as logically-minded as yourself would have wanted as much data as you could collect.”

He would have a point, if he was anyone else. As it was... “There’s no point in collecting from what’s sure to be an outlier.”

Nezu chokes. Impressive, since he hadn’t even seemed to be eating anything, but Yagi leans over, pounding him on his back until the sputtering stops.

“Well, if you’re sure,” he says, giving Nezu one last slap on his back for good measure. “I’m always here, if you change your mind.”

Maria’s mouth pulls as thin as her patience. “I won’t.”

Not as long Kamitani follows through, at least.

It’s not that Maria is impatient, per se. Excited, perhaps. Eager for the rush of data analysis, definitely. But impatient? Restless?

Certainly not. During homeroom, she doesn’t even think about the oddly powdery pages of those test booklets, never quite holding fast to the strokes of her pen. Even as far as first period, she never once dwells on the unique pleasure of being finally being the one that wields the corrective marks, scrawling red over what’s already written--

And then Yagi is called to the board, chalk squeaking as he works out a differential equation in his neat hand, clean enough it could have come from a textbook. The girl beside him flushes, hand trembling with the effort to make her bubbly numbers look as professional as his. In the end, it’s a failure, her own nerves making fours into x’s and b’s into sixes, until she has to write the whole thing out again, chalk dust dotting her uniform as she trudges back to her seat.

But the boy after them-- his answer has more in common with chicken scratch than letters, so cramped that even sensei has to squint. Maria snorts; no one will be asking her to letter any banners, but at least her handwriting doesn’t require the teacher to crouch down, as if being level with the mess might help untangle it. That sort of disaster seems to be entirely the purview of boys, Well, excepting Yagi-kun.

It’s only logical then, that she thinks of it. That her mind suddenly projects Kamitani’s test booklet into her hands, completed cover to cover. It falls open, draping over the smooth wood polymer of her desk, and--

And it’s utterly illegible. A thicket of hiragana that cuts as she tries to wrap her mind around it, brambles pricking at her palms she as teases out individual strokes. With the way he keeps his room, it could hardly be anything else; even if Kamitani gives her that booklet today, she’ll have to spend weeks wading through his answers, trying to uncover his meaning. Her syllabus will be in shambles.

The lunch bell isn’t the same complicated set of bings and bongs as the one that marks the start of homeroom, but Maria’s on her feet at the first note, out the door fast enough that the squeal of her school shoes puts a flourish on its final one.

“Mari-chi?” Kawata leans her hip against the door of 3-C, sipping at a strawberry milk. “You’re back today too?”

“Uh...” Her shoes skid to a stop just shy of that speculative stare, suddenly aware of how her hands are utterly empty of excuses. There’s no papers to pass to the office, no official business to shield her from scrutiny; even her lunch is left back in her bag, forgotten in her rush. “So it would seem.”

“Oooh, who are you looking for this time?” Yamane cranes her neck out around the corner, gaze sweeping up and down the hall. “Yuki-chan, maybe? You guys haven’t had lunch in a while.”

“Yuki just stepped out to drop off some papers for sensei,” Kawata informs her, bumping Yamane to the side. “I’m sure she’ll be back in just a few minutes, if you don’t mind waiting.”

“Ah, but I’m not, er...”

Honesty may be the best policy-- at least, that’s what Father always says-- but Yamane’s grin goes a little sharp, like a small puppy about to bite the neck of her favorite squeak toy, and only just clamps around the impulse before the girl asks, “Or maybe you’re here for someone else? Kashima--”

“Not him either!” she squeals, loud enough that a few passerby give pause, and oh, this isn’t worth it, not at all. There’s no point in making a spectacle of herself when it would just be easier to find that annoyance after school, or maybe even--

“What’s all the noise about?” Kamitani’s scowl is already firmly set when he insinuates himself in the doorway, but when he catches sight of her, it furrows deeper. “I should have known.”

There had been a plan when she left 3-A, a course of action; one that involved dragging Kamitani from his desk and demanding the data she’d so patiently waited for. But now that he’s here, one arm braced against the jamb, buttons popped above the vee of his cardigan, like he didn’t even bother to dress right--

“There’s a tie in our dress code,” she snips, “as a third year, you might bother to wear one.”

His eyebrows spring free of their furrow, hitching up his forehead until it’s no longer a scowl stretched across his mouth but a smirk. He shifts too, slipping past Kawata to lean against the outer wall, limbs so long Maria has to step back to avoid scuffing his shoes. “That right?”

“To...” It’s terrible how she feels a flush working up her neck as he watches her, far too pleased with himself. "To set a good example. To the younger students.”

“To the younger...?” Humor leaves him in a huff. “What are you doing over here, Inomata? Looking for someone to nag?”

His edges might be blunted by annoyance-- a feeling that’s mutual as far as she’s concerned-- but she can see the gleam in his eye, the tilt of his chin. He wants her to rise to his bait, to admit that, yes, she’s looking for him. A challenge she’s willing to meet, except--

Except that Kawata and Yamane are right beside them, stares burning into the side of Maria’s head.

“I...” Maria clears her throat, letting the motion pull her spine all the straighter. “Not anyone in particular.”

His mouth pulls tight, frustrated his little farce has been foiled. Good. Maybe now he’ll learn that silly games earn silly rewards.

“Cool.” It’s indecent the way that he pulls the word so long; insolent even. And only made worse by the wall he pulls away from the wall, one vertebra at a time. “Guess I’ll just go back in and--”

“Wait!” If she’d taken more than a moment to think, Maria would not have reached out. And if she’d done more than react out of simple panic-- well, she certainly wouldn’t have grabbed him, fingers locking tight over the pulse fluttering in his wrist. “Don’t...!”

It’s bad enough that he is staring at her, the already muddled color of his eyes made muddier with incredulity. But Kawata and Yamane--

They’re right there, watching with entirely too much interest, and-- and she doesn’t know how to do this. To put a patch over this whole debacle and slip out unscathed.

“Er...” She turns to them, stiff, her grip wrapped so tight it’s little more than bone and tendon itself. “Would you excuse us?”

Kawata’s expression hardly changes; she just darts the smallest, subtlest glance between the two of them and squeezes out, “Go ahead...”

“Yeah,” Yamane adds faintly. “Take your time...?”

The girls are quick to scuttle back into the classroom, but their wide-eyed glances through the door are a reminder that this is hardly a secure location. Certainly not free from prying eyes, and if the searing pressure at her back is any indication, any one of them will feel welcome to relate what happens between Kamitani and herself to the nearest willing ear. Which may, most distressingly, be Kashima’s. “Come with me.”

It’s a pleasant surprise that he doesn’t struggle when she tugs him. She’s hardly gentle, either; panic and the threat of humiliation tightening her grip until her own fingers ache, she drags him down the hall with very little care to what obstacles might be behind her. Which there must be, it’s busy; most students in the upper school bring lunch, but there’s always a horde of boys ready to supplement their carefully crafted bento with the high-calorie offerings of the bread line.

One he might be in, if she hadn’t waylaid him. Not that the state of his stomach is precisely her top concern; she’s too busy shoving him into a stairwell to think about such petty things as physical needs. It takes climbing up one flight and down another before she’s content that there’s no malingerers, no underclassmen with big ears and bigger mouths to spread their business far and wide, and--

“You just about done?” he asks, utterly unimpressed. “I’ve got gym after this.”

Of course he has to ask her when she’s still catching her breath, winded from adrenaline and exertion. “Do you have it?”

His eyes narrow. “Have what?”

Oh, honestly. It’s not like she’s in the habit of just handing him things right and left. “You know what!”

She can practically hear the gears grinding behind that sour face; it takes entirely too long for his eyes to widen, for him to finally grasp the low hanging fruit of her meaning. “You wanted me to finish that today? Are you crazy? It’s got to be fifty pages.”

“Thirty-five,” she informs him, prim. “It’s shorter than most practice tests.”

“Yeah, but those tests are multiple choice,” he huffs. “Every one of yours is some...short answer or something!”

“Well, I’m asking for your opinion!” She tucks her arms over her chest, shoulders hiked high enough to brush her ears. “That should be easy for you, shouldn’t it? Since you love to give it entirely unprompted!”

“Me?” He straightens so quickly it’s a race to put space between them, her stepping back even as he looms. “I like to give my opinion--?”

If boys could breathe steam, Kamitani would. She can picture it, curling tendrils like smoke from a dragon’s mouth, all rushing from his nose in one great huff. That’s how he does it now, one huge exhale that seems to empty him right down to his toes.

“Fine,” he snaps, like even that’s more than he can chew. “I’ll get it done.”

Huh. Maria blinks. She hadn’t quite thought he’d give in; not that easily at least. “Tomorrow?”

He sneers. “Don’t push your luck. Soon, okay?”

Soon. Like she’s going to believe the timetable of someone who can’t move two feet to drop their underwear in the hamper. “You’re not getting my notes until you’re done.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He shoulders past her, heading toward the door. “I get it.”

Kamitani’s version of soon, as she suspected, doesn’t conform to any accepted definition of the word. Or at least, not unless she would like to make progress at the same rate continents separate and divide. At this rate, maybe she’ll get to have a conversation with Kashima that isn’t about schoolwork or small children by the next ice age.

Honestly, you’d think with her-- highly coveted, never shared-- notes on offer, he’d be able to answer fifty simple questions. But Tuesday blends into Wednesday, and Wednesday into Thursday, and there might just as well have not been a weekend for how little relaxation brings, since by Monday morning, she is just as tense as she was when she confronted Kamitani by the bike rack, as if she hadn’t done any work at all.

It would be one thing if he had approached her like a civilized person; Maria may be eager but she is not inflexible. If between two clubs, his schoolwork, and his homework he had needed an extension, she would have been happy to give it. But oh no, after five days of coming all the way over to 3-C only to find he’s already left-- for bread, for club duties, for a conveniently timed bathroom trip-- she’s left to conclude that this is not all just happenstance. No, Kamitani Hayato is dodging her.

Well, fine. If that’s the way he wants to play, then Maria can play too. He can keep on slipping out of every room she enters, using his club-- and the men’s facilities-- as a shield, but Maria-- Maria--

She’s memorized Kashima’s schedule. A data set that just so happened to include the days Kamitani would be at his club, if only to assure minimal interference when she did deign to come down after her own. Last thing she needed was some grumpy manchild complaining about how he didn’t like sweets when she showed up with two bins of extra desserts.

“Inomata-san!” Kashima’s eyes round when he sees her in the doorway, jumping to his feet to greet her. “I-is there something you needed?”

His gaze drops down to her hands, and, ah, yes, maybe she should have brought something. An excuse, for one.

“No.” A glance over his shoulder counts five children, as it should, and Usaida, even if he’s just napping, but-- “Are you the only one here today?”

“And Usaida,” he offers staunchly, even if the man doesn’t deserve it. It’s a point she might stick on, if she didn’t have other useless boys to account for.

Maria squints, glaring a hole through the green apron still hung on its rack. “Doesn’t the baseball club have the day off?”

“Ah, yes, it does! But Kamitani came by just a minute or two ago to tell me he wouldn’t be able to make it.” Kashima smiles, entirely too used to the habits of his fair weather coworkers. “Apparently there’s something he needs to do with the manager today. He explained it but...well, I’ve never really been all that good at sports...”

He shrugs sheepishly. An act she’d typically savor, coming from Kashima, but today, oh, today--

She’s too busy thinking, how convenient.

“Is that Kamitani-kun?” One of the first years-- Makino, she thinks the girl’s name is, or maybe Miura-- steps away from her station, standing on tiptoe to see over the sill. “I thought baseball club got canceled because of the rain storm last night.”

“Of course it did,” Inui sniffs loftily over her batter, too good to follow suit. Still, Maria catches her glance, that small bob up on her toes while backs are turned to take a peek. “But Summer Koshien is only months away. Even if the team doesn’t practice, he and the manager still have to come up with their strategy.”

She spares an ingratiating little smile for Maria. “He’s going to take us all the way to nationals, you know.”

A lofty goal for a boy who can’t even take his clothes all the way to the hamper. Or keep to a perfectly rational timetable.

“But isn’t...” Makino-- Miura?-- drops her voice to the precise pitch gossip travels at. “Isn’t the manager a girl?”

Another one of the first years slides between them, wide-eyed. “Oh, do you think that they might...?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Inui snaps, cheeks flushed. “You can’t possibly think he’d go after the team manager when...”

The rest of that thought catches between her teeth, ones she turns right on Maria. “I suppose if someone were his girlfriend, though, they might get nervous about something like that. You know, their boyfriend spending so much time with another girl. Especially if there wasn’t much special about them to begin with.”

It’s not until Tanaka-san murmurs under her breath, “Don’t take her bait, senpai,” that Maria realizes it’s even meant for her.

Inui simply stands there, saturated in self-satisfaction, so sure that Maria will react. That somehow, the insinuation that Kamitani has something going on inside his head besides a rotating system of baseball scores and bad attitude will send her into a tailspin. That him tolerating some girl was any of business of hers to begin with.

Quite frankly, it’s insulting. Or at least, it would be, if she wasn’t too busy being annoyed that he might have devised some legitimate reason to be unavailable. Air hisses through her teeth just thinking about it. Unbelievable. The lengths he’ll go to to avoid doing her a single favor.

At least she knows now: if she wants those lessons, she’ll have to be the one to set the syllabus. “Kaichou, could you--?”

“What do you think, Inomata-senpai?” Inui grits the words through her sunny smile, never once letting it flag. She expects the first years to giggle, to flank her as they always do, but this time they simply stare at the girl, as if drawing attention to their snide asides is somehow beyond the pale.

It’s tempting to ignore her; it’s not as if she actually cares about that poor manager being cooped up with hours of Kamitani’s irritating company. But the air stills, and she realizes that the entire club is watching their exchange, even Tanaka and Suzuki-san. For some reason, her answer matters.

So Maria lifts her chin, letting her gaze snowball into a glare as it slides down the steep slope of her nose, and says, “I think if someone has to worry about who their boyfriend is with all the time, that is either a reflection of their own insecurity or their own poor taste. Either way,” she continues, bored, “I think it’s hardly any of your business.”

Unlike Inui, Maria has no need to see a reaction, instead she simply turns on her heel and says, “Kaichou, may I ask to borrow some of your culinary expertise?”

Tanaka-san stares at her, eyes so wide it’s obvious when they slip behind her shoulder, and even more so when they snap back. “Ah...my expertise?”

“Yes.” She nods. “I’m curious about the way one would go about constructing a bento.”

“Inomata-senpai.” Tanaka-san’s hands tremble in the air, first toward the containers, as if she might grab them, then to her hair, as if that might soothe, before pressing them both firmly onto the lab’s countertop. “I appreciate that you came to me for this, erm, important advice, but surely...you must know how to make your own?”

“I do.” Her mother does prefer to make them-- if my mother did it for me, she says, checking her watch to make sure that she will not be late for her train, then I must do it for you-- but part of Maria’s duties have always including picking up whichever balls drop in the juggling act of between motherhood and making partner. Lunch happens to be one of the more consistent ones. “But that’s different than when you make them for someone else.”

“A-and that’s what you’d be doing?” Tanaka-san’s eyes bounce around from table to table, hardly pausing to rest. That’s what makes her a good president; even when she’s giving her attention to one club member, she’s always keeping an eye on the others. “Making it for someone else?”

A quick breath steels her spine. “Yes. Hypothetically.”

“So this is a...hypothetical situation,” Suzuki-san asks, her stool dragged close. “You would hypothetically use this information, because there isn’t someone you’re hypothetically using it for?”

“I mean that I would like to learn the basic rubric of creating a bento for another person,” she clarifies, “so that I could conceivably make a passable meal for anyone in the future, not just to please the person I would make one for right at this moment.”

Suzuki-san swings her head toward the president, weary. “I think I’m more confused now. Is there someone, or--?”

“That’s not what matters right now,” Tanaka-san declares breathlessly. “Is it? Inomata-senpai wants to know the, um, rules of making one. What other people would expect if you were to give them one. Some...common sense?”

Maria nods. “Yes, exactly. Common sense is just what I’d like. The sort of things that are considered standard. Or if there’s any, er, hidden meanings to what dishes are made.”

The last thing she needs is to find out that edamame is a signal that you’d like to be kissed, or a sweet omelet means you desire the receiver carnally, or whatever other terrible shorthand simple dishes have become in the hands of the romantically inclined. It would just be sleeve-tugging all over again.

“Hidden...?” Tanaka-san blinks. “Ah, no, it’s just usually what your boyfriend likes to eat. Or, ah, whoever you’re giving it to!”

“What if...?” It’s a struggle to keep from grimacing. “What if you don’t...know?”

Suzuki’s giggle is light, more bells than belly, and it takes the sting from her reply. “Then you ask him!”

Doing that will give her an excellent idea about what Kotaru likes in his lunches, but Kashima, well... “That won’t work. Is there anything that boys like in general?”

“Ah...” Tanaka-san flushes. “I’m not sure I’m the one to ask. I’ve only had the one boyfriend, and not for that long...”

“I made a bento once!” Inui offers. “It was pretty good.”

“Really?” Miura-- no, Makino?-- asks, curious. “I thought you said not even the babies would eat it.”

Inui deflates. “Well, sure. But it looked good, that’s all that matters.”

“No.” Suzuki’s smile is too wide when she assures her, “It definitely has to taste good.”

“Maybe you should ask someone who has made a lot of bentos,” Tanaka-san suggests. “Or, ah...has received a lot of them...?”

“Yuna-chan,” Suzuki coughs, “are you telling Inomata-senpai to ask a popular boy. A prince type or something?”

Tanaka-san claps her hands to her cheeks, shaking her head. “N-no! I mean, maybe, if she knows one--”

With a sigh, Maria feels her mood sinking straight into her stomach. “I think I just might...”

“Inomata-san.” There’s a distinct lack of enthusiasm in Yagi-kun’s greeting this morning, his customary smile fading to a frown as she heaves herself into the seat behind him. “Is something the ma--?”

“I think,” she says, begrudging every word, “that I might need to consult your...personal expertise.”

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demonbanisher · 2 years

Text

Hey y’all. I have been having A Time and its so frustrating because there is so much I want to do where my brain is like haha fuck you we aren’t doing that today. But I was determined to get something done. So here’s some more Unexpected AU for y’all and thanks for being with patient with me 💜

Unexpected AU Master List

TW: ripped stitches and blood

I’m Not Them

The day the Potters were set to come meet Addie, Remus woke up early. He hadn’t been sleeping much since she’d been born, between Addie being up through the night and being in pain every time he rolled over. He tiptoed carefully past Sirius and scooped Addie out of her crib.

He took her into the kitchen and hummed to her softly as he got the formula ready and then sat down to feed her. He then got her settled in the baby wrap his mom had gotten for him and set about tidying up the mess of their house, the pile of bottles in the sink they hadn’t had time to clean, the overflowing diaper garbage they kept meaning to clean out, the endless piles of laundry that never seemed to stop. He was just finishing up when Sirius came wandering out of their bedroom rubbing his eyes.

“Morning,” Remus said, as he wandered over to give him a kiss.

“Morning,” Sirius said, yawning and then frowning slightly when he saw Addie strapped to Remus’s chest. “How long have you been up?”

“Not long,” Remus lied.

“You shouldn’t have her on your chest for too long. You’re still healing. It’s barely been a week.”

“I know I’m just…” Remus trailed off. Nervous? It felt so silly to say aloud, as if he thought the Potters would be mad at him for having an unplanned child with their son.

Sirius wandered into the kitchen in search of coffee and started to take in the little things that were different. The empty sink, the organized and tidied counters, and the already warm pot of coffee with their best mugs set out for all of them. “Remus, it’s just my parents coming by, you know you don’t need to,” but he was cut off by the sound of the doorbell.

“I’ll get it,” Remus said, heading in the direction of the front door, looking much too cheery for someone who had just had major surgery a few days ago.

“Oh my goodness,” Euphemia said, the second the door was open. “What are you doing up on your feet darling? You’ve just had a baby and surgery. Come now, you must sit down this instant.”

Sirius smiled around his mug of coffee, grateful that he could count on his mum to always have his back. “Hi Mum, Dad,” he said as he wandered into the living room where his mum was currently fussing over Remus to his protest while his dad sorted through the bags of gifts and goodies they brought with them.

“Sirius dear,” his Mum said, beaming, distracted from her task only long enough to give Sirius a quick peck on the cheek. “Please tell your husband he needs to rest.”

Sirius looked at Remus who was silently begging for help and gave him a slight, sideways smirk in return. “Bold of you to think he’d listen to me.”

Remus scowled at him in response and Sirius turned away so it didn’t seem so obvious that he was finding joy in his husband’s misery.

“Let me just get you coffee first Mia, then I’ll sit down,” Remus said as he slipped past her, wincing as he got to his feet again.

Sirius frowned. “You okay?”

Before Remus could answer, Euphemia was replying for him. “He’ll be okay once he’s resting. Let me take my granddaughter from you. Fleamont can you go and get us some coffee or maybe put the kettle on for tea. Sirius, come sit down with your husband. You both must be so tired.”

Sirius grinned at Remus as he helped his mother free Addie from the baby wrap before being forcefully seated next to him on the couch.

“Oh my,” Euphemia said as she sat down on Remus’s other side. “Fleamont forget the drinks come look at how perfect our granddaughter is.”

Fleamont came back a moment later with two cups of coffee. “She’ll be mad at me in an hour when she doesn’t have her caffeine,” he told Sirius and Remus teasingly.

“You’re lucky I’m too happy looking at this baby right now to be mad at you.”

Fleamont smiled and leaned down to look at the bundle in his wife’s arms.

“Have you ever seen a more perfect baby?” she said.

“I think you say that about all the babies,” Fleamont said, planting a kiss on his wife’s head, but you can see in his eyes that he was just as smitten as she was.

“Have you two thought about what you want to be called?” Sirius asked.

“I think Grammie and Gramps,” Euphemia said. “What do you think dear?”

“Whatever you want love,” Fleamont said.

Euphemia looked back down at her granddaughter. “Addie is a good name.”

“That was all Remus,” Sirius said smiling.

Remus nodded, but Sirius noticed him squirming as he tried to discreetly press a hand to his side.

“Are you okay?” Sirius whispered.

“Yes,” Remus said, and then to all of them. “I just have to run to the washroom quickly. I’ll be right back.”

Once he was gone, Euphemia passed Addie off to Fleamont so she could focus on her son. “How are you doing sweetheart?”

Sirius immediately melted into her side. “I’m okay.”

“Darling, I talked to James. He told me how bad it was. How you almost lost him.”

Sirius tensed against her.

“You’re allowed to fall apart,” she said as she brushed his hair out of his face. "The two of you are. I mean when James was born I didn’t have a flying fuck what I was doing. My place was certainly more of a mess than this and I can assure you Fleamont and I had spent years trying to learn all we could about babies. Being a new parent is hard enough, you don’t have to make it harder on yourself by feeling you have to have it all together.”

Sirius sat up a bit, knowing if he kept listening to his mom talking like this, he’d eventually give in. “If I let myself fall apart, I’m not going to get back up afterwards.”

“Sirius - “ she said, reaching out for him, but he stood up and stepped out of her grasp.

“Remus has been gone a while. I’m just going to check on him.”

“Of course," she said pulling her back into her chest and smiling at him. “We got Addie. Take all the time you need.”

Sirius sighed as he wandered in the direction of the bedroom. He wasn’t stupid. He knew both him and Remus were a mess, but he also knew neither of them had both the energy to deal with processing anything that happened while still being able to take care of Addie.

He found the door to the bathroom closed but could see the light on underneath. He knocked, “Remus, you okay in there?” He heard something fall and then Remus cursed.

“Yeah, just give me one second.”

Sirius frowned and tried the handle only to find it locked. Now he knew something was wrong. They had a strict no locking the bathroom door rule after Remus had fainted while trying to shower after a full moon and in his panic Sirius had forgotten about magic and broken the door down.

“Remus, why is the door locked?”

“Just one second Pads.”

“Remus, open the door right now please or I’ll unlock it myself.”

He heard Remus sigh and then a faint click of the lock on the door before it opened. “Don’t freak out,” Remus said as Sirius stepped inside.

Sirius froze as he took in the blood stained tissues and gauze that seemed to cover every surface of their vanity. Remus looked pale and had his hands pressed to his side as blood leaked through his fingers. “What the fuck happened?”

“I think I tore my stitches, but the blood is coming out too quickly for me to heal it.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Remus opened his mouth to speak but before he could Sirius cut him off, “I swear to god if you say you didn’t want to be a bother I’m going to scream.”

Remus closed his mouth and looked down sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Sirius sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not mad. Okay, maybe I’m a little mad. I just wish you’d take better care of yourself.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Sirius led Remus to sit down on the shower chair as he kneeled to better inspect the wound. “I thought you said you and Addie had only been up for a bit.”

“We’d been up for three hours and I panic cleaned the whole house with her on my chest.”

Sirius reached for a fresh sheet of gauze and gestured for Remus to move his hands before pressing it against the wound. “Remus, you know you can’t be moving like that yet.”

“I know. I got worried. I knew your parents were coming by and I don’t know how much of a mess I’m allowed to be as a new parent.”

“Love, not only are you a new parent but you just endured an extremely traumatic medical event. I don’t think anyone gets to tell you how put together or falling apart you have to be.”

Remus nodded, closing his eyes as the world started to spin.

“You alright?” Sirius asked.

“Dizzy,” Remus mumbled.

“Okay, I’m going to grab my wand. Yell if you think you might faint.” Sirius got up and grabbed his wand from the nightstand, stopping on his way back to get the healer kit he kept under the sink. “Keep the gauze tight. I’m just going to poke my want under to cast the healing spell and then I’m going to stitch it up to be safe.”

Remus nodded as Sirius did what he said, sighing in relief as the magic washed over him. Sirius then opened the kit and slowly started to stitch the faded wound together for good measure. His hands trembling as he realized Remus’s blood was all over them again. By the time he was almost finished he was shaking so bad he could barely hold the needle.

“Are you okay?” Remus asked.

“I’m fine,” Sirius said as he pushed himself to his feet and went to clean his hands up in the sink. “We’re both fine.”

Remus went to stand and started to swoon. Sirius caught sight of him going down in the mirror and managed to turn around just in time to catch him. “Lean on me,” Sirius said as he led him back to the chair. “I’m gonna clean you up and then we’ll get you into bed.”

Remus didn’t argue as Sirius slowly washed all the blood off of Remus’s middle and then brought in a set of loose pyjamas that he helped him change into. Sirius then helped him to his feet and got him into bed.

“I can make it to the living room,” Remus said, even though Sirius was effectively holding him upright.

“No, you can make it to bed,” Sirius said sternly. “I’ll bring my parents and Addie in here to finish the visit and I promise they won’t panic when they see the messiest room of our house, okay?”

Remus nodded. He was too tired to fight.

“I’ll get you some juice and chocolate to help with your blood sugar. Under no circumstances are you to get out of the bed by yourself today, you hear me?”

Remus couldn’t help but smile. “You’re gonna be a great dad.”

Sirius offered his own smile in response before heading back to the living room himself.

“Everything alright?” Euphemia asked from where she was sitting on the floor playing with Addie. Sirius didn’t miss the way that her eyes flashed to his bloodstained clothes and realized he had forgotten to change.

“Yeah, sorry. One of Remus’s stitches came loose.” It was a gross understatement but Sirius couldn’t deal with being suffocated in their well meaning concern right now.

“Would you and Dad be okay to sit with him? We can bring Addie’s stuff in there just for today.”

“Of course.”

“I’m just going to get Remus some orange juice and chocolate and then I’ll meet you in there.”

“Fleamont,” Euphemia said and he was on his feet before she even finished. Sirius wondered how long you had to be married before every different intonation of your name became a secret language. “Go sit with Remus, I’ll be right there.”

Sirius made his best disgruntled noise but headed down the hallway into their bedroom to curl up next to Remus.

“Where are you parents?” Remus asked.

“Getting Addie’s stuff together to bring in here while also secretly discussing how worried they are about us.”

Remus let his head flop back against the pillow. “Maybe we should have waited a little longer before having them come over.”

“I think Mum might have broken to our house in the middle of the night if I made her go one more day without seeing her granddaughter.”

Remus laughed and then winced at the pain in his side.

“Easy love,” Sirius said, laying a protective hand where the wound was.

Euphemia appeared with Addie a little while later.

“Mum where did that onesie come from?”

“Hmm,” Euphemia said as she sat down in the rocking chair. “Oh, I picked up in the store the other day. I went to change her diaper and just decided I had to see her in it. Look it even has a little tail!” She lifted Addie up so they could see that indeed there was a tail on the bum to match the little bear ears that were on the hood.

“Remus, I think we might have a problem with our child being spoiled rotten.”

“Oh hush,” Euphemia said. “I’m a grandmother now. It’s what we do.”

Fleamont appeared a little later laden with a tray that had two plates with bacon, eggs, and toast, two glasses of orange juice, Sirius’s unfinished coffee, and a chocolate bar.

“Da,” Sirius said, “you didn’t have to do all of that.”

Fleamont just smiled and looked at the floor the way he did when any complimented him or acknowledged he was capable of love and soft things.

The four of them chatted while Sirius and Remus ate breakfast. Euphemia had Fleamont showed them every gift that they’d brought for Addie, beaming in excitement at every item. At some point during the conversation, Remus stared to doze off and it wasn’t long before him and Addie were soundly asleep.

“Sirius love,” his mom said quietly. “Do you want to change?”

The blood on his clothes had since dried and had made the fabric hard and crunchy. He felt silly that he had forgotten to do so earlier. “Right,” he said as he got up and went to grab a clean shirt.

“I saw the bathroom,” Euphemia said, softly.

Sirius’s hands stilled and he closed his eyes. “I’ll clean it up in a second so you and Dad can you use it.”

“You’re not listening to what I’m saying.”

“What?” Sirius snapped. “What are you saying?” He froze when Remus moaned in his sleep and all their eyes went to him for a moment before he stilled after turning over. Sirius walked over to the bed and carefully lifted the covers so he could check that the stitches hadn’t torn again.

“Hope called me love, she told me Remus said she could go home after your first two days back here and that she didn’t think he was ready to be on his own.”

“Are you accusing me of kicking my mother-in-law out of our house?” Sirius asked, keeping his voice low as he tucked Remus back in again. The steady simmer enough to show his anger.

“No darling. I’m just trying to say I’m worried about you,” she looked to Fleamont. “We’re all worried about you.”

“Remus asked his mom to leave. The support was good but the two of us have a lot to figure out and process. We needed some space to do that.”

“I know and I’m not arguing with that. I just know that you are Remus both have a habit of pulling inwards on yourself when you’re struggling.”

Sirius felt himself bristle. “I’m going to be a good parent. I’m not going to be like them.”

“Sirius, I’m not saying that.”

Sirius wrapped his arms around himself, feeling the trembling from earlier return. “I think you guys you should go.

“Sirius -“

“Euphemia,” Fleamont interrupted, placing a steady hand on her arm. “Let’s give them their space.” He smiled at Sirius and Sirius tried to communicate a silent thank you back.

Euphemia nodded and got up to put Addie in her crib. “Floo us if you need us. Anytime.”

Sirius nodded and waited until he heard the sharp crack of them aparating away to give up any sense of being okay and crawl under the covers and wrap himself around Remus as the tears came.

“Hey,” Remus mumbled as he came to and ran a hand gently through Sirius’s hair. “What’s wrong?” His voice was drowsy likely from both lack of sleep and the physical drain on his body. Sirius felt bad for waking him.

“Got in a fight with my parents.”

Remus pulled him in closer to his chest. “Want to talk about it?”

“They’re worried about us and it feels like they’re worried that we can’t do this. That I can’t do this.” He buried himself deeper into Remus’s side. “Is it stupid that over a decade later I’m still looking over my shoulder for them?”

“Your bio parents?”

Sirius nodded. “Euphemia and Fleamont didn’t do anything but it feels like my whole life I’ve been waiting for them to. Anytime they came to see what artwork I was drawing, or wanted to read an essay, or I came downstairs in new clothes, I was waiting for proof that they were just like them. Maybe I was just waiting for confirmation that everyone was.”

“Because then hopefully it would stop hurting so much that your parents abused you?”

“It’s stupid. I know.”

“It’s not stupid. It makes perfect sense. Not that its the same thing, but you know how many times I walk into a doctor’s office expecting them to be an uneducated twat? Sometimes bad things happen for no reason and it sucks because it feel like if you had a reason for the pain then maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much.”

“Do you think I’m going to be a bad parent?” Sirius mumbled, his face fully buried in Remus’s shirt.

“No. You’re not them. You are not going to be them. I’ll tell you that as often as you need to hear it, okay?”

Sirius nodded, scrunching up Remus’s shirt in the process. “I should call them and apologize.”

“Or, hear me out, we could have a nice family nap and then you could call them after?”

Sirius pulled the blanket up tighter around the two of them. “A family nap sounds perfect."

#unexpected au #hurt/comfort #wolfstar hurt/comfort #wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar parents

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chaoticgoodlawyerwrites · 2 years

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Sneak peak of Chapter 20!!

Trying to get this out this week! Yes, yes, the lesbian mermay fic has be by the neck, but I can't stay away from Bingdi and his A-Yuan for long!

Shizun can be badass, as a treat.

_________

Bright lights drew the attention of the crowd. One, two, then a dozen emergency flares sparked around the competition areas, all of them representing at least one disciple asking for immediate help.

“Enough of this. Master Liu is correct. A number of us go in and protect what disciples we can, handling threats that would slay our next generation. Whoever is unable to fight should remain and help organize the incoming disciples as they will likely be panicked or injured.”

“And who are you to order us around, Sect Leader Shen?” Someone else asked at the back of the crowd. Probably from Huan Hua palace, if he was being honest.

He gave the room an unimpressed look. “Listen to me or don’t. I only command those who have sworn to me; the rest may determine their course of action. Cang Qiong Sect!”

“Yes, Sect Leader,” intoned his people. Shen Qingqiu strode to the edge of the balcony, Liu Qingge beside him.

He drew Xiu Ya and ordered, “Scatter. We have much ground to cover. I have no more talismans to give; we shall just have to do our best. Be smart; if it saves more lives holding up with some disciples in a warded cave before backup arrives, do that. I will not lose one of you to this.”

“Yes, Sect Leader.”

“Move out!”

Shen Qingqiu flew, ignoring the System giving him coolness points. He had demons to slay, children to save, and a husband to find.

All things considered, Luo Binghe thought things were going well.

He had easily slain a number of his fellow demons during the day, hoping that his work would be enough to put him in the lead and win. He had the advantage of knowing that they only had one day to actually compete, and he was acting like it.

What could he say; he wanted A-Yuan to open his present guilt free.

It had been a bit annoying dealing with all the younger disciples looking to follow him. He had no time for their whining! He had a competition to win! Conscious of his image, he had been kind and charming to each of them, leaving them in a safe place with one of Shen Yuan’s brilliant talismans before they even realized what he was doing.

The real challenge began when night fell and Mobei-Jun’s group arrived. These demons would have been impossible if not for his focused training for the past several months, but now they were just interesting to battle.

He was mentally trying to work out how to slay the horde of ghost-head spiders that had somehow managed to surround him when a wave of spiritual energy passed over his head, skewering the demons wholesale. Binghe turned with a grin as a familiar body landed beside him, “Shizun!”

“Binghe,” he replied, easy tone not quite able to hide his relief. “It seems my disciple has gotten into quite a situation. I shall have to assist him.”

Luo Binghe beamed at him. “Thanking Shizun.”

“Allow me to handle this. You’ve worked hard,” Shen Yuan said before closing his eyes for a moment, making several signs with one of his hands, and moving. Xiu Ya took off, going after targets with a single minded purpose while Shen Yuan danced around him, protective as he decimated the area with waves of his fan. His eyes blazed as he fought and Luo Binghe could not look away from him.

It was over in less than a minute.

Shen Yuan scanned the area one more time for enemies before he straightened and Xiu Ya returned to his side, obediently waiting for a command. “There, that’s better, hm?”

#Binghe: 👁👄👁#he is LOOKING

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canonicallysoulmates · 3 years

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Last year, I did a post looking back at some of the j2 moments 2019 and the 2010’s decade had given us, this year with it being so shit and so many of us needing some cheering up I thought I’d do a 2020 version.

So before we say fuck off to 2020 here are some of the j2 moments this year has given us:

SM isn’t everything but it’s still cute when the boys interact with each other online and the year actually started with it, with both boys liking each other’s New Year’s pictures with their kiddos:

Those weren’t the only SM interactions, on a more recent example by which I mean December they had this cute little exchange under a pic Jared posted were he was sleeping:

And Jensen liked this cute pic of his smiling boy:

Of course nothing compares to the best SM moment of the year: Jared’s beautiful, emotional, touching, heartfelt birthday message for Jensen 🥺:

And Jensen’s reply ❤:

Before everything went under lockdown we got one convention, among the moments we got from it were:

- Jared talking about his birthday post to Jensen, calling Jensen his boy and saying that he has pictures of him and Jensen just hanging out on his phone

full gifset

- Fist bump

- And a hug

full gifset

To me one of the best j2 moments 2020 gave us was the release of this amazing EW photoshoot that I will forever be in love with (especially this cover I will never be over this cover) 😍

This photoshoot was the gift that kept on giving! Not only did we get beautiful new photos of the boys, but we also got some amazing content from the bts like

full gifset

Look at them! The way Jensen closes his eyes and leans into Jared, the way they look at each other this is what love looks like people! 🥰 Find someone who will look at you like how j2 look are looking at each other in that gif.

And even the accompanying interview gave us a little something with Jared saying that he burrowed strength from Jensen when he was struggling with the job

Padalecki, 37, who’s been vocal about his struggle in the early seasons, says. “I borrowed strength from Jensen.” x

And this is barely the tip of the iceberg I’m just providing some examples of what that photoshoot gave us but it was a feast!

Summer seemed to be the never ending dry spell, many wondered ‘will we ever get j2 content again?’ and the answer was...yes!

Starting with a little interview the boys did with small moments such as

full gifset

And Jensen confirming he and Jared still live near one another.

When Jensen appeared for the second time on Rosenbaum’s podcast he spend a good part of it being fond over Jared and making them sound totally married sharing a story about Jared’s preferred breakfast burrito and how he and Jared have bickered over it and of course starting of the panel by making it clear covid or no covid him and Jared would be making out:

full gifset

The boys had a joint virtual Q&A panel filled with moments, they were joking around, they made each other laugh, and it all started with Jensen saying how handsome Jared looked.

When filming wrapped up Jared and Jensen had their own celebration with dinner and champagne at one of their favorite restaurants:

"Jared and I wrapped on Thursday, and Saturday night he and I went to one of our all-time favorite restaurants, just us, and toasted with some champagne," Ackles says. x

Those two can’t get enough of each other so they road tripped part of the way home together!

“He and I just drove together all of our stuff across the border. So, we drove up together for season 1 and we drove away together for season 15.” - Jensen in the Chelsea Davis interview

Jared mentioning their road trip during a TVLine interview & during a TVInsider interview

With Supernatural coming to an end a lot of interviews took place and provided us with content:

The Talk interview gave us a married moment, when the boys were asked who had the messier dressing room Jensen replied Jared did to which Jared literally went no sir, no sir.

The CNN interview had the boys admitting not working together will be an adjustment with Jensen saying “So, it will be different, and that’s probably when he and I will call each other and be like, ‘I miss you so much!’” as well as this moment "Oh, I thought you meant we fell in love," Ackles quips."We fell in love, too," Padalecki jokes. When I add that plotline was only in fan fiction, Ackles retorts, "Or was it?" Padalecki erupts in laughter. "There it goes the internet."

In an interview with Chelsea Davis Jensen once again brought up that him and Jared will be contacting each other from their new shows

“Jared said it, he’s like I don’t think it’s really gonna set in until we walk unto the set of some other show. But that’s fine cause then we’ll just turn around and call each other and be like ‘what’s your show like?’”

Jared having a little fond moment over Jensen during one of the TVline segments

Jensen saying that 15yrs ago him and Jared got on a rollercoaster (Supernatural) and that he couldn’t have asked for a better partner:

full gifset

Jared comparing him and Jensen finishing the show to the time they ran the Seattle Marathon together (yes, the marathon they ran together and crossed the finish line holding hands) 😭❤:

“There were a lot of tears all over but Ackles and I were looking at each other like, ‘Man’. It was kind of like finishing the Seattle Marathon. We did it. Dude, we did it, you know? We put in the work…I’ve been with you for 15 years, 15-½ years. I’ve seen you sweat. I’ve seen you bleed. I’ve seen you hurt. I’ve seen you going through stuff personally and put it aside for this show, for your character and I know I’ve done the same and it was bittersweet.” x

Jensen talking about his and Jared’s Impala’s in the USA Today interview

Ackles says he was “floored” by the gift: “And it's cool, because now Jared and I can just drag-race around Austin.”

“If we get pulled over, it'd be like, ‘Don't worry. FBI Agent Robert Plant,’" Padalecki adds.

“We've got FBI badges in the glove box,” Ackles confirms.

The last virtual panel of the year was Jared’s and it was full of love for Jensen; Jared mentioned him often, unprompted he shared the story of when the twins were born and how hectic it was for him and Jensen to return to Austin in time for their birth honestly hearing him talk about it it’s clear how important that day was for him too and it’s just so sweet, he said him and Jensen will definitely work together again and he hopes it’ll be sooner rather than later, also said Jensen has a standing invitation to do whatever he wants on Walker, and implied he’s already looked at his schedule to see if he could make it up to Toronto where Jensen will be working in 2021.

And these are just some moments; I know that with everything going on and time losing all meaning it might have seemed like we had a j2-less year but as you can see that’s not true cause not even a pandemic or this hellish year were able to stop or dim the beauty that is j2 and their relationship.

This men make me so ridiculously happy, and with this being such a hard year for all of us, for some more than others, it makes me all that extra grateful for them and to them for bringing a smile to my face. I hope that with this post they will bring a smile to yours. I personally am looking forward to seeing what j2 goodies 2021 gives us, I’m hopeful there’ll be plenty, our boys have new projects coming out, God willing cons will be able to pick up again in a safe way, and there’ll be even more j2 content to enjoy.

Until then, stay safe, take care of yourselves, and Happy New Years my fellow tinhats! ❤

#j2 tinhat #thank you past me for being organized and determined or this would not have gotten done #this are just some of the moments the year gave us #as i was making this even i found myself surprised at how much content we've actually gotten cause it's so easy #to fall into that lie of there being no content or very little but i'd disagree and say this is plenty proof that that's incorrect #i also love the recurring theme of both boys saying without actually saying they'll forever be part of each other's lives #i wanted this to be a surprise so it took everything in me to not spoil it when i've answered some messages #now can y'all stop with the freakouts #mine #annianvi #i actually got around to making it!

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bucksfucks · 3 years

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𝙁𝘽𝙍𝙊 ; 𝗯𝘂𝗰𝗸𝘆 𝗯𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗲𝘀 [𝟳/𝟭𝟭]

summary┃bucky’s past comes back with a vengeance and you’re determined to get the answers you’ve been searching for.

pairing┃roommate!bucky x f!reader

word count┃2,682 words

warnings┃bucky’s past is revealed, character mentions; [sam wilson, natasha romanoff, tony stark], pet name [kid (platonic), sweets & baby], threats made against bucky + reader, trust-issues, mention of hit-men, brief mention of death, phone sex, praise kink, masturbation, mention of toys, slight angst, soft ending — 18+ ONLY • MINORS DNI

notes┃there is A LOT of plot here but also some filthy goodness and a sprinkle of angst <<3

SERIES MASTERLIST

Ex-wife.

Bucky’s words echoed in your ears as he didn’t dare to look at you.

His ex-wife was threatening you.

And he didn’t think to mention her? Ever?

“Can I please explain?” Bucky croaked finally, voice sounding broken as you shrugged your shoulders — in a state of shock.

That was all he needed before he recounted his previous relationship with the woman who was now sending you threatening emails.

Married young, too young and too fast and it ended up blowing up in their faces.

Well, clearly she hadn’t gotten over it.

“I thought I lost her,” he explains. “I thought that moving halfway across the country would be enough.”

You finally looked up to meet his eyes, glossy, sad and terrified as you sniffled.

“There’s a reason only Tasha calls me James.”

It broke your heart hearing that, the way his head hung low and he nearly winced at the sound of his own goddamn name.

But you didn’t know who to trust anymore.

Bucky always glossed over how he, Sam, and Nat knew each other — telling you that they were old friends that go back.

How far back?

You needed to know, but clearly you weren’t about to get answers from him.

“Buck,” he stopped you, taking a step closer as his eyes begged and pleaded you not to finish your sentence.

“I can’t,” he shook his head, “I need some time.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say those words that would shatter both of your world’s. But you had no idea what the hell you had gotten yourself into and you needed answers.

And you knew exactly who to go to for them.

“I understand,” Bucky sighed. “I’ll stay at Sam’s for some time, okay?”

You could only nod your head, watching him walk past you and into his door.

Then he shut it, something he never did because his door was always open for you. No matter what you needed and no matter what time of day it was.

It felt...wrong.

But you couldn’t dwell on it, grabbing your keys, phone, and whatever other important things you could think of being you nearly bolted out of the front door.

You plugged your headphones into your phone, hitting shuffle and descending down into the subway.

The entire ride made you anxious, slowly approaching your stop and you were way out of place in this crowd.

People rushed by you in expensive suits and what you could only guess were the infamous red-soled shoes that were worth close to your monthly rent, if not more.

You cringed, thinking of the man you were about to see in his stupidly tall office building that you had to crane your neck at an uncomfortable angle just to get a look at.

The elevator could not have taken longer, tapping your foot impatiently as you rode up to what felt like the heavens before the doors opened to revel smooth wooden doors that reach from the ceiling to the floor.

You were so close, before you were stopped.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, you can’t be here right now.” A man’s voice stopped you, dressed in a security guard uniform and oh, this was so him.

“I know him,” you said, intent on seeing the man probably sitting behind those large doors.

“I’m sorry, I can’t let you do th—”

“It’s okay, Marv. I know her,” his voice came not from behind the doors, but from the long hallway to your left.

The security guard, Marv, nodded his head as he looked at you once more before retreating back to where he was leaning against one of the walls.

“This is a surprise,” you rolled your eyes, “Tony, please. I don’t wanna hear it.”

He walked over to you, embracing you in a hug, “oh c’mon, I’ve missed you, Kid.”

You shook your head, “I haven’t been a kid in years,” you tried to remind him, but it was Tony, he wasn’t going to listen as he just laughed it off and welcomed you into his office.

It was much different from last time, all new furniture and appliances, but nothing lasted more than a year with Tony.

Tony was an old friend, sort of.

He was an old friend of your father’s, something like an uncle, but also like your older brother.

So just one giant pain in your ass.

“So,” Tony sighed. “What trouble did you get into this time, Kid?”

You told Tony everything.

From being roommates with Bucky to the way he asked you to be his fake girlfriend to Sam’s wedding and all the way to the situation you were in now. Confronted by his ex-wife without any idea of what she was going to do.

Tony had that look on his face. The one where he was going to tell you that you were crazy.

“I don’t know how you manage to get yourself into these situations,” he chuckled, hand clamping over your shoulder as he walked around his desk and typed something into his computer.

“Last name is,” he looked at you. “Barnes.”

He nodded his head, typing away at his computer again before he stopped.

There was a brief moment of silence, Tony hiding behind the computer screen before he stood up and walked back around the desk, “I’m gonna need some time.”

You understood, shaking your head. You were asking Tony to hack into any known database and collect as much data on Bucky as you could. It was wrong, but you just needed to know who you were dealing with.

“Thank you, Tony. I-I really appreciate it.” You weren’t good when it came to...well, the heartfelt side of things but luckily neither was Tony.

“Don’t get sappy on me now, Kid. You know it makes me sick,” he joked playfully, smile on his lips as you stood up to give him a half hug.

“I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.” He promised before you walked out of the too-tall building with far more questions than you came with.

It was a waiting game that you didn’t want to play, but you didn’t have a choice.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It seemed like your relationship with Bucky was doomed from the start.

Friends to lovers rarely, if ever, works out in anyone’s favour.

The fake dating trope you could handle, pushing your feelings aside to help Bucky win a bet didn’t seem like the worst thing in the world. You had a great time, great fucking sex, and a trip out of it.

Then Steve wouldn’t leave the picture. Going as far as coming to the wedding as Natasha’s boyfriend to spite you not realizing that you and Bucky had gotten married.

Married.

You and Bucky were married. Bonded in a whole other way and now, his ex-wife was out for you and him.

Maybe this was a sign from the universe, a big red fucking flag telling you that it wasn’t worth it and yet...you couldn’t let go.

The apartment felt empty without Bucky, his bedroom left the way it was in the morning with your favourite sweater of his laid out on the covers and a little post-it note on top of it.

You never could really decipher Bucky’s handwriting. It was absolute chicken scratch as you picked it up and managed to make out in case you get cold scribbled onto it.

It was an easy decision to pull it over your head and drown yourself in the scent of Bucky’s cologne as you fiddled with the small gold band you now wore around your neck as a necklace.

You didn’t want anyone other than Bucky. There was no in the world who understood you better. Who knew how to make you laugh when you were having a bad day.

Everything led you right back to Bucky.

So when your phone rang from the other side of the couch, you were secretly hoping it was Bucky.

Instead, Tony’s name flashed and your heart sank into your stomach as you quickly hit answer and held the phone up to your ear.

“You’re not gonna like this, Kid.” Tony’s voice flowed through the speakers as you took a shaky breath in and braced yourself for what Tony was about to tell you.

“He did a damn good job at erasing his history, but you can’t erase all of it,” Tony chuckled as you rolled your eyes, “quit stalling.”

He sighed, “the Howling Commandos was an organization tasked with,” he paused, “tasked with collecting intel and making sure that information never got released to the public.”

This time, it was your turn to fall silent.

“Like, spies?” You asked and Tony hummed, “sort of.”

“They had spies, agents, hit-men.”

No. You shook your head, no.

“James Buchanan Barnes was their highest ranking hit-man. Him, along with Sam Wilson and Natasha Romanova worked as a team. A spy, agent, hit-man trio.”

You had to shake yourself out of spiralling, what you needed was everything Tony could possible tell you.

“Anything on his ex-wife?” You then asked and heard shuffling on the other line, “not much. Mary Barnes, but I doubt that’s her real name, was part of a training initiative the Howling Commandos were testing.”

You bit your lip, at least you had a name, even if it wasn’t her real name.

“By that point it looks like James—”

“Bucky. His name is Bucky.”

Tony cleared his throat after a moment’s silence, “Bucky looks like he had disappeared. Blipped off of the face of the Earth. There’s nothing in his file after 2014.”

That makes sense. Bucky was perhaps the most old-fashioned man you knew, only upgrading from his flip-phone just a few years ago. He barely knew how to unlock it, though.

“Sam and Natasha went on to live normal lives, Kid. I’m sure that’s all Bucky wants.” Tony tries to assure you and you laugh, “you sound like my dad.”

He laughed on the other line, “oh gross.”

“Thanks for everything, Tony.” You said, “you know what number to call in case you’re in trouble.”

With that, you both hung up, tossing your phone away from you to digest everything you’d just been told. You knew you had to talk to Bucky, but you didn’t know when.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“So you’re tellin’ me,” Sam was confused. “That this is the same Mary that tried to get you killed?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, taking another swing of his beer as he rounded Sam’s kitchen island.

“That’s the one, you know, the undercover agent working for Strucker.” Bucky scowled at the name.

He was angry, beyond angry at the fact that his past was creeping up on him despite how far he had gone to erase it.

“But why now? Why come after you now?” Sam poses the question that even Bucky doesn’t have an answer to. So he just shrugs his shoulders and finishes off his beer.

“Unfinished business.”

They stand in silence for a little while longer, listening to the old ticking clock hanging on the wall before Sam takes a step towards Bucky.

“Whatever you need, you know that Tasha and I are here for you, right?” He whispers and Bucky feels the warmth blooming in his chest as he gives him a half-smile.

“Yeah,” he nods his head, “thanks, man.”

Sam knows that Bucky was never really good at the sappy shit, so he doesn’t force it. Instead, he offers him another beer, bottle necks clinking as Bucky’s thoughts race.

He was worried.

Not about himself, but about you.

And you were worried about Bucky, curling up in his bed as you sighed and tossed and turned. There was no way you’d be able to fall asleep alone tonight. And hugging his pillow just wasn’t enough.

So you grabbed your phone, hitting his name and waiting for the ringing to sound before he picked up — tired and groggy.

“We need to talk.” You didn’t give him a chance to greet you. He sighed on the other line, but hummed in agreement, “tomorrow?”

You hummed in response to his question, the sound of his voice soothing as you played with the sheets of his bed.

“I miss you, Sweets.” Bucky whispered, your breathing hitching at how low and raspy his voice really was.

“I miss you too, Bucky.” You admitted, shifting as you got comfortable on the pile of pillows against your head.

There was a moment of silence before Bucky spoke again.

“You know what ‘m really missin’ right now?” His words sent a shiver down your spine as you shakily inhaled, “what?”

Bucky sighed, reminiscent of how he sighs when he runs his hands all over your body.

“I miss that sweet cunt of yours.” Bucky purrs, you know he’s smirking, possibly even dragging his tongue across his bottom lip as he closes his eyes to imagine you under him.

You’re at a loss for words, feeling your panties grow damp, core aching and you’re going to have to touch yourself soon. But that’s all part of Bucky’s plan, you think.

“Here I am, all alone, with my hand wrapped ‘round my cock,” he whispers, but you can hear him stroking himself.

“And all I can think ‘bout is that way your tight little pussy grips me and milks my fuckin’ dick, baby.” Bucky was always so good with his words, knowing exactly what to say to make you melt.

And it was working, because you were a squirming mess in his bed.

“Well,” you could tell he was smirking by his tone, “what’re ya waitin’ for, Sweets. Go on, touch yourself. I wanna hear you work your clit.”

Your hand flew under your panties, being given the permission only made it sweeter as your fingers came in contact with your soaking folds. The sensitive bundle of nerves needed desperate attention as you slowly circled it.

“Good girl, that’s my girl.” Bucky praised, continuing to work himself.

“God,” he hissed, “can’t wait to have you all to myself again. Bury myself deep, maybe even have you sit on my cock as you beg me to do somethin’.”

You worked yourself a little faster, applying some more pressure as you let out a whine at his words.

“Add two fingers, Sweets. I know how much you love bein’ stretched,” Bucky chuckled deeply, “been thinkin’ of gettin’ you a mould of my fuckin’ dick for when ‘m not home.”

Oh my God. Oh my God that shouldn’t be so fucking hot so why does it make your walls flutter and breathing uneven as you have to stop yourself from actually fucking cumming.

He chuckles again, “yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You can’t verbally respond, too focused on the tight coil in your abdomen that’s ready to snap.

“I know you’re close, can hear it in how fuckin’ desperate you sound,” he pants, “so why don’t you make a mess all over my clean sheets.”

You gasp, how did he know, but you don’t get to dwell on it for much longer than a moment because your orgasm rips through you and leaves you panting Bucky’s name.

Both of your breaths are uneven and ragged through the phone’s speakers, bed springs creaking on Bucky’s side as he hums.

“If only you could see the miss I made for you, Sweets,” you shuddered at his words, closing your eyes to relish in the moment.

“Now get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.” His tone has changed, entirely sweet and caring as you grab the phone to bring him closer to you.

“Okay,” you reply, another lick of silence before you hear Bucky going to end the call but you stop him.

“I love you, Bucky.” You quickly blubber out and it feels good to finally say those words because there’s no more denying how you really feel about him.

“I love you too, Sweets.”

It’s a bittersweet ending to the phone call, thoughts and emotions running wild as you’re forced to remind yourself that Bucky has a lot of explaining to do.

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes headcanons #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes oneshots #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #roommate!bucky #bucky barnes series

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gukyi · 4 years

Text

the love project | jjk

summary: from running to mcdonald’s at 3am after a halloween party where the two of you dressed up as the teletubbies to timing how long it takes for him to drink a cup of monster mixed with mountain dew and iced coffee and then do fifty push-ups, you’re used to your best friend jungkook asking you to do all sorts of crazy things. but, of all the shit the two of you do, letting him follow you around for a week with a camera and take candid photos of you for a photography assignment might just be the craziest of them all.

{college!au, friends to lovers!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff, comedy word count: 12k warnings: college antics, hopeless pining, slow burn a/n: me: this fic will be 10k max! also me: actually nevermind on par for the course of this blog, i hope you enjoy this fic! it was so much fun to write and it definitely got me back into the ~writing mood~. more fics coming soon!

These days, the weeks pass you by like trains on a platform. They whiz past you, the only discernible features being the beginning and the end of them, with the middle nothing but a blur.

At least, that’s how it feels when you’re in college, and the days bleed into weeks bleed into months, and suddenly you’re one year closer to graduating, one year closer to figuring out what next to do with your life, even if you’re still missing that one general education requirement you forgot to take in your first year so now you’re trying to cram it into your schedule at the last minute.

Okay, you’ll admit it. Introduction to Astronomy is kicking your ass. That’s what you get for putting it off until junior year, when you’re supposed to have reached the point in your History major career where you don’t have to look at numbers anymore and the idea of doing basic math is absolutely unfathomable. History majors don’t do math. They just don’t. It vanished from your academic arsenal long before now, alongside your ability to interpret word problems and understand science textbooks.

Perhaps in another universe, you would have actually retained those skills past high school, but that universe is not this one, and so your problem sets can solve themselves or not be solved at all.

Your best friend would have to disagree.

“It’s not even calculus!” Jungkook exclaims over a mouthful of a Starbucks tomato and pesto panini, pointing to your laptop in exasperation, as if the answer has been staring you in the face for the past fifteen minutes. “It’s just algebra! All you’re doing is plugging the numbers into the formula and finding the missing variable!”

“Easy for you to say,” you huff, furiously erasing at the notebook in front of you as you get yet another incorrect answer. Who knew math could be so difficult? Oh, that’s right. You did. “You took that advanced differential equations class for fun last year. It’s not even required for your major. You’re just a masochist.”

“Says the person who convinced their advisor to let them take seven classes because they, and I quote, ‘all seemed so interesting’ and you ‘didn’t want to miss out.’” Jungkook rebukes pointedly. “Because your life would be so terrible if you didn’t take Economic History of Pre-Industrialized Europe.”

He’s got you there. Seven classes is a lot. In your defense, Economic History of Pre-Industrialized Europe was very interesting and you got a 4.0 that semester. So who is he to judge? Jungkook’s favorite pastime is pretending that taking three different computer science classes in a single semester isn’t going to single-handedly kill him.

Jungkook watches you struggle for a few moments more before he sighs, like he can’t take looking at someone so mathematically incompetent any longer. He stuffs the remaining third of his Starbucks panini into his mouth all at once like the ravenous beast he is before he reaches over the tiny table you’re sat at to look at your problem set himself. He turns your laptop towards him and grabs hold of your notebook, furrowing his eyebrows as he enters Work Jungkook Mode.

Work Jungkook Mode is the mode of him you see most often during finals week or the rare occasions where you meet up to actually try and get work done. Work Jungkook has tunnel vision for whatever assignment is currently in front of him, which he will do either in one sitting or die trying. Work Jungkook lets his coffee get cold and forgets to answer your text messages, even when you’re sat right across from him and you know that he can see the notification on his laptop. Work Jungkook refuses to turn in anything that he hasn’t devoted his entire being to, even if it’s something as simple as a discussion board post. Some of his other friends say that when Jungkook is in Work Jungkook Mode, they won’t even try to contact him, lest their messages get lost in the flurry of his coding assignments.

But you are not “some of his other friends.” You are his best friend. So rules do not apply to you. And Jungkook has long accepted that fact.

“Hey, don’t mess up my work—” You exclaim defensively, grabby hands reaching over the table to retrieve your notebook. “Wait, how did you do that?”

Jungkook scribbles something down in nearly-illegible font, determined to solve the problem in front of him. He thinks for a few more seconds before eventually jotting down an answer, circling it with his pencil. Holding the notebook out so both of you can see, he scoots his chair over to your side of the table, your shoulders pressed together in this tiny corner of the Starbucks, right by the bathroom, and explains, step by step, what he did.

He does that for the following two problems in your set, walking you through the kind of math he was doing in freshman year of high school like it’s nothing, answering all of your stupid questions and giving you tips on how to finesse the system by taking as many shortcuts as possible. Teaching you things you never learned, or possibly had just forgotten. Things that a professor would think is idiotic to re-teach to a junior in university. Things that Jungkook wants you to know because he just wants you to have a little more faith in yourself.

“Does that help?” He asks when he’s finished, still doubting his fantastic teaching abilities despite the fact that he just taught you more in the last thirty minutes than your professor has managed in a month and a half.

“It actually does,” you tell him, pleasantly surprised. Looking back down at your notebook, what was once a shapeless blur of numbers, letters, and formulas is suddenly a clear and organized outline of each and every step to follow. “I didn’t know it was that easy.”

“Anything can be easy if you just commit yourself to learning how to do it,” Jungkook says, one of those random sentences that are too wise for a college student surviving off of RedBull and Starbucks food, the ones that always make you think Jungkook is secretly an immortal sage with life experiences far beyond your own. “Except coding. Which is hard no matter how good you are at it.”

“Aw, you can do it,” you rally, reaching up to pinch his chin in between your fingers and squeeze it tight. “It’s also too late to change your major now, so you’re stuck.”

“Wow, thanks for the encouragement,” Jungkook chides, hand coming up to rub at where you held his jaw, rolling his eyes. “You should let me help you with your Astronomy work more often. Gives me a break from Python.”

“I would have made you help me whether you liked it or not,” you tell him pointedly, because he is your best friend and he doesn’t get out of things as easily as he thinks he can. “But thanks. I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

“Of course,” Jungkook says with a good-natured grin, always so selfless and kind and giving. He practically signed himself up for a semester’s worth of TA-ing for Introduction to Astronomy despite the constant mountain of work he has himself. Just because it’s you.

“My very own personal genius,” you muse, wrapping your hands around his arm and snuggling into his body, a whisper of a language only the two of you share. It’s something the two of you have long gotten used to, pressing your fingers all over each other’s bodies like it’s second nature. One of the things that makes you feel so certain about having Jungkook in your life. About wanting him to stay with you for the rest of time. “I’m never letting you go.”

Jungkook smiles, a warm hand coming to rest atop of your own. He breathes, in and out, chest rising beneath your touch. “Like I’d ever let you,” he says.

There is no question about it. Jungkook is one hundred percent, absolutely, undoubtedly, positively, indisputably smarter than you are. It’s something that the two of you used to jokingly fight about (because Jungkook claims that he’s a bad essay writer, even though he’s not), but at this point it’s cemented in stone—he’s a damn genius. A genius who is inexplicably good at everything. A double threat. Triple, if you count the fact that he’s built beyond belief and could probably chuck you into next week if you really, really ticked him off.

The truth is that, ninety percent of the time it is you who is going to Jungkook for help. Whether it be an assignment you need assistance on (namely Astronomy, because Jungkook probably couldn’t help you on your Mesopotamian artifact and primary source analyses despite his best intentions), a date that was a lot worse than you were hoping it would be, or even just the right coffee to order from that expensive place on the corner. Jungkook knows how to fix everything.

So when Jungkook slides into the seat across from you in the food court after his Mastering Photography class with that I’m in trouble look on his face, you know something is horribly wrong.

“Are you alright?” You ask, concerned as you watch him devour the sushi takeout in front of him, stuffing the spicy tuna rolls into his mouth like they’re Skittles. His camera hangs haphazardly out of his open backpack, like he barely had enough time to stuff it into the pocket while he was making his way here. There’s a worried expression written all over his face as he fumbles with the chopsticks in his hand, losing his grip on them every ten seconds.

It’s not until Jungkook has finished the container of spicy tuna rolls in front of them that he finally seems to work up the courage to answer you.

“My Photography class is gonna be the death of me,” Jungkook exclaims, exasperated.

“I thought you liked it,” you comment unhelpfully. Jungkook had been so excited to be enrolled in it, because you needed a recommendation from a different professor and you had to submit a portfolio in order to join the class, making it one of those exclusive (and thus, much better) courses. Not to mention the fact that Jungkook is basically already a professional photographer if his Instagram is anything to go by. He’s going to walk out of university with a Photography minor whether he realizes it or not.

“I do,” Jungkook insists, even if right now it sounds like the two of you both need convincing of that fact. “But this project is ridiculous. I don’t even know how my professor expects us to have the time to finish it.”

“What do you have to do?”

Jungkook sighs. Just thinking about it seems to stress him out. “I mean, it’s only really a week long. So I guess it’s not too bad. But we’re supposed to compile a portfolio of the same subject, taken over the course of the week, with them in all sorts of different poses and lighting and locations, to express a personal theme.”

You scrunch your nose up in confusion. “I might be wrong, but isn’t that what photography… is?” You ask cluelessly.

“Yes,” Jungkook argues, “but also no. Photography is taking pictures of things just for the hell of it. Not because they necessarily speak to a part of your soul. You just like the look of it. You want to capture the scene. That’s it.”

“Oh,” You say dumbly.

“And our subject can be whoever or whatever we want, but he recommended choosing a person because taking pictures of our water bottles in different places is boring,” Jungkook huffs, though his professor does have a point there. Modern history wasn’t made out of photographs of store windows and miscellaneous items. It was made out of people, out of events in their lives that shaped the rest of the world, out of personal experiences that changed their point of view. “But I don’t even know anybody who would be willing to let me photograph them for a whole week! I’d basically have to follow them around like paparazzi!”

“I’ll do it,” you suggest casually, because it seems like the most obvious choice to you. There’s no one Jungkook spends as much time with as you.

Jungkook’s eyes pop out of his head. “What?”

“I’m serious,” you insist. “Think about it. You need a subject for your project that you can photograph in a wide variety of places and over the course of a week. Who else do you spend that much time with, other than me?”

“Well..” Jungkook begins, trying to fight your reasons with his own. “Would you even be comfortable with something like that? I mean, I’m literally going to constantly be taking photos of you.”

“Like we don’t already do that on our phones,” you tease, having amassed quite the album of terrible Jungkook pictures over the years.

“A camera is different from a phone,” Jungkook protests weakly.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But I’m just saying. It won’t bother me,” you say with a shrug. Why is Jungkook being so… weird about your suggestion? You thought he would be jumping at the offer, especially considering it means he won’t have to go out of his way to find and photograph someone else for this assignment. But he’s being rather hesitant. You watch as he glares down at his empty sushi takeout box, eyebrows furrowed in that thick, nervous way. “But you don’t have to,” you backtrack. “It was just a suggestion.”

He breathes in and breathes out, expression solid. Even from here you can see the cogs whirring in his brain, placing each and every potential result into a pro and con list inside his mind, trying to work out whether the benefits will be greater than the cost.

Quite frankly, you don’t know what all the holdup is about.

“You’re… sure about this?” He asks, looking up at you, determined to ensure your comfort. As if that’s even an issue. “You’re cool with being photographed and everything?”

“Only because it’s you,” you tease lightheartedly, expecting some sort of equally cheesy response. Instead, it makes Jungkook do something weird. He freezes in place, darting his eyes away from your gaze for a split second, collecting thoughts you can’t see. “Yeah,” you say loudly, trying to bring him back. “I’m fine with it.”

He inhales, exhales, closes his eyes, and opens them. “Okay then. I guess it’s settled. You’ll be my subject,” he declares, an almost unnoticeable wobble to his voice. It’s probably nothing, so you don’t think too hard about it.

“Can you at least pretend to be a little more excited about this?” You ask, jabbing him in the chest with a wooden chopstick. “It’s the first time we’ve ever gotten to be part of a project together!”

“Yay,” Jungkook says, lifeless.

“How about a photo to commemorate it?” You suggest, reaching over to pull the camera out of his backpack, pushing it into his hands. “This can be the start of your portfolio.”

“Fine,” he eventually caves, bringing it up to his eye as he turns it on, twisting the lens to perfect the focus. Even caught off guard like this, he looks like a professional, like someone who was born to be behind the camera. He’s a computer science major but you know that photography will always be something special to him.

You strike a dramatic pose, holding your chopsticks out, one in each hand, with a wide, excited smile on your face. “How do I look?” You ask, scrunching your eyes together.

Jungkook’s finger hovers over the silver button. “Perfect,” he tells you, voice soft and honest.

Click.

“So, how many photos are you supposed to take for this portfolio?” You ask as you flop around on Jungkook’s bed, pretending that the open tab on your laptop with your fifty-page reading doesn’t exist. You don’t even know why professors assign readings that long. Do they really expect you to read all of it?

From across his room, you can make out the top of Jungkook’s fluffy brown hair over his sleek gaming chair, one of the ones that look like high-tech airplane seats. “I don’t know,” he says. “He said at least twenty. And no more than fifty. Which really makes me wonder if someone once submitted like, one hundred photos for this project that he had to grade them on. But yeah.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” you say. When you’re around a cute animal, you can easily take twenty photographs. Granted, they aren’t exactly award-worthy photographs, but it’s not a physically demanding task.

“Yeah,” Jungkook says. “Hypothetically you could finish it in a day. But it looks really obvious.”

“Well, how many do you have now?”

It’s been a day and a half since Jungkook agreed to let you be his so-called muse, but already you’ve lost track of how many photos he’s taken of you. He loves his camera, you know that, but you didn’t realize exactly how much he loves his camera. And with you as the sole subject for his project, he’s practically letting it hang from his neck all day long, just waiting for the right time to snap a photo of you standing in line at the food court, frowning at your textbook, or waiting to meet up with him. Every time he sees you he snaps a picture, even if the lighting’s bad, even if you haven’t had your morning coffee yet, even if it’s midnight and you look like a zombie. In his mind, there are no bad pictures. Just memories.

You wonder what the hell he sees in you.

“A lot,” Jungkook answers unhelpfully, making no effort to elaborate on that statement.

“Have you counted?” You ask, getting off of his bed to join him at his desk.

Jungkook doesn’t seem to realize what you’re doing until you’re standing right next to him, placing a hand over his shoulders as you lean down next to him. He fumbles around for a second, the mouse slipping through his grip, and you catch a glimpse of one of the photos he’s taken of you, a sliver of your pursed lips, the wrinkles between your eyebrows.

It’s from the library yesterday. You didn’t even know Jungkook had taken a picture of you there. You had a stupid reading to complete last night, one that made no sense and was terribly-written, and you spent an hour just trying to figure out what the damn argument was, and Jungkook captured it. You were there for an hour and Jungkook was there too, watching you like it was nothing, waiting for the perfect moment. He was there, sitting across from you, camera at the ready. You didn’t even hear it click.

He closes it before you get a closer look at the photo, frantically hitting the little red dot at the top corner of the window before you have a chance to ask why.

“What, I’m not allowed to see?” You chide, a little bit hurt but more confused than anything else. Why is Jungkook being so secretive?

“No,” Jungkook spits quickly. making you raise an eyebrow in alarm. “I mean, it’s a surprise. You get to see when it’s finished. I still have to… uh, edit. And stuff.”

“Edit? You think I’m that ugly?” You tease, knowing that he probably means color correction but enjoying the way that he gets all flustered when he hears your voice.

Jungkook’s eyes widen at that, like he just realized he made a wrong turn and is desperately backtracking. “What, no! I don’t—I don’t think you’re ugly.”

You laugh, letting the sound of your voice ease the tension in his shoulders, reveling in the way his big doe eyes seem to soften when he realizes you were just teasing. He looks like a kid caught stealing a candy bar from a gas station, looks like one of those boyfriends in the viral videos where the girl reveals that she got him a present or something instead, all nervous and full of explanations.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” you assure him, rubbing up and down his arm to soothe him, calm his heart down. “You don’t have to show me. I’m just excited. No one’s ever taken photos of me like this before.”

“I would,” Jungkook speaks up softly. “If you asked. I would.”

“I know,” You say. You’re not sure if there’s a thing in this world Jungkook wouldn’t do for you, and you, him. If he asked, you would pluck the stars from the sky for him. Bring him back a piece of the moon. Stop time. Anything. Everything. Just for him. “I know.”

“What are you doing?” Jungkook asks, changing the topic as he whirls around in his gaming chair.

“Just another reading, like always,” you dismiss, because you’re positive the last thing Jungkook wants to hear about right now is your primary source reading on irrigation techniques in agrarian Europe. You don’t even want to hear about it. “But I could use some help on Astronomy.”

Without another word, Jungkook gets up from his desk and the two of you head over to his bed, where an untouched problem set waits on your computer. He grabs a notebook from his backpack along the way before sitting down next to you on the edge of his bed, bodies pressed together. Slowly, he begins to coach you through each problem, step by step, drawing pictures and diagrams if he has to, until you finish all ten problems.

The truth is, you didn’t really need help with this unit. Astronomy’s gotten a lot easier now that Jungkook has taught you the strategies to tackle it. But Jungkook sometimes feels like a ghost when he works, especially when he’s sitting at his desk, quiet and focused and almost invisible. And call you clingy, but you like it when you can look up and see his face instead of the back of a chair, a little tuft of wavy brown hair. You like it when he’s right beside you, in a place where you know you won’t lose him, where you can hold on if things get rough. Where you can see his stupid brown eyes and his goofy smile and know that he’ll always be there for you.

When he’s finished, Jungkook doesn’t get back up to sit at his desk. He flops down on his back, staring up at the white ceiling of his room, eyes tracing the cracks. You join him, side by side, pretending that there’s something there. Looking up at the sky would be nicer, but it doesn’t really matter, so long as you’re with him.

“I didn’t know you took so many photos,” you say.

“I never want to miss anything.”

“You should give me more warnings, next time. I feel like I look so ugly in some of them.”

“No, you don’t. Don’t say stuff like that.”

“You don’t think I’m ugly?” You ask him, for real this time. It’s not that you think he’s going to say that he does, it’s that you want to know what he really thinks. How he really sees you. You turn your head to him, back pressed against his comforter, barely a foot apart. And he turns back to you, and he’s right there, right there in front of you, big brown eyes wide and blinking. He’s right there, how could you miss him?

“No,” Jungkook says, honest and true. He looks at you, looks right at you, right into you, and he muses to himself, chuckling. “Why would I ever think that?”

At the end of the day, you can’t really be bothered to put on real pants in anticipation of Jungkook’s trigger-happy camera-taking tendencies. He’s seen you spill a boiling hot bowl of tomato soup all over yourself in the dining hall. He’s seen you at four in the morning in the library the night before finals begin, eyebags down to your knees and mismatched shoes on your feet. He’s seen you in the middle of a frat house, sweat dripping down your forehead and smelling of nothing but straight alcohol. Getting dressed up just for him would be antithetical to the very foundation of your friendship.

You have, however, become keenly more cognizant in the last few days of when Jungkook is about to take a photo of you. Mostly because you glance up at your surroundings every three seconds to make sure you aren’t getting sniped from across the food court. Nobody else needs to see a picture of you picking up three pieces of sushi with your chopsticks and stuffing them all into your mouth at once. And, from what you can tell, you’ve been pretty successful, which either means you’ve gotten better at telling when Jungkook might be taking a photo of you, or Jungkook’s gotten better at hiding it.

Either way, he’s got a lot more pictures of you reflexively flashing a peace-sign in his direction when you hear the telltale sound of his camera lens focusing, so you’re not really sure what that means for the fate of his portfolio.

Besides your newfound hyper-awareness of the sound of a camera lens adjusting, the strangest part of you and Jungkook’s little project is how quickly the rest of your friends adjusted to this brand new dynamic.

This is not to say this assignment is the weirdest thing you and Jungkook have done together, because there was once one week where you and Jungkook challenged each other to only eat bananas for every meal to see if anything would happen to either of you. Nothing did, but after that week you swore off bananas for the rest of your life and have had little appetite for them since.

It’s more that your other friends have just accepted the fact that ridiculous, extravagant shenanigans are a necessary part of you and Jungkook’s relationship and have simply chosen not to question them anymore. At least, most of them have.

“So, how’s you and Jungkook’s little photography fling going?” Maisie asks, and even through the phone you can hear the way she’s wiggling her eyebrows.

“It’s not a fling, and it’s fine,” you hiss back, trying to keep your voice down as you pack up your belongings, phone pressed between your ear and your shoulder. “Stop speaking so loudly, everyone else in the library can probably hear you.”

“Good, because they’ve all probably noticed the way Jungkook’s been following you around like an unrestrained fanboy for the past four days taking pictures of you,” Maisie says pointedly, voice so sharp it causes you to look around at the other tables to make sure no one’s listening in.

You frown, hoping your deadpan expression is audible through the phone. “It’s not like that and you know it.”

“Don’t you think it’s even a little strange that you’ve given Jungkook full permission to take photos of you like you’re a model and he’s some sort of weird, professional paparazzi?” You can practically see Maisie’s face in front of you, all wide eyes and raised eyebrows as she makes her point.

“No, it’s what we agreed on,” you remind her for the umpteenth time. There’s nothing weird about this. You’re helping him with a project, what more could it be? “Jungkook needed someone to take pictures of for his photography project and I thought it would be a good idea if I was that someone.”

“Hmm… wonder why…” Maisie trails off, deliberately vague and suggestive all at once.

“You’ve been going on about this ever since Jungkook and I met, Maise,” you say with a roll of your eyes, tossing your backpack over your shoulder. “You know that Jungkook and I are just friends. Like we have always been.”

“Friends that take candid photos of each other under the guise of a project,” Maisie adds, and you can see the air quotes around the word “project” right in front of you.

“Friends that help each other out because that’s what friends do,” you correct. “You’re just going to have to accept the fact that Jungkook and I are always going to be just friends and nothing more. No matter how much money you’ve bet on us getting together.”

Maisie gasps. “I have not bet money on such a thing! This is slander!”

“Don’t think I don’t see you and Jimin’s damn Venmo history.” You pull up to the front desk of the library to check out a primary source book needed for one of your classes. It’s the first edition, and it’s battered beyond belief, but it’s better than paying for it. “Just this, thanks.”

“The only way you could convince me that you and Jungkook are just friends is if you go on a date or something,” Maisie comments snidely. “I don’t think I’ve seen either of you romantically interested in someone else the entire time you’ve known each other. Isn’t that proof enough?”

“You want me to go on a date with someone?” You demand, determined to get Maisie to hop off your ass about this.

You and Jungkook are just friends. If swiping right with someone on Tinder and getting dinner and a movie with them is what will convince Maisie of that, then that is what you will do. It’s not as if being friends with Jungkook is mutually exclusive with you going out with other people. Should be easy, right?

The boy behind the counter tells you your book is due back at the end of the semester, and you nod your thanks before heading out of the library.

“Fine, I’ll go on a date with someone. If it’ll get you to stop trying to convince me that Jungkook and I are gonna get married and have babies,” you declare, pushing your body against the door handles as you leave, five minutes to spare before your next class begins.

“You guys would have really cute babies, I’m just saying,” Maisie points out like it’s nothing.

You roll your eyes, taking the phone away from your ear as your finger hovers over the red button. “See you, Maise.”

You’re barely three steps out of the library, still rolling your eyes at the Call Ended screen on your phone when a voice catches your attention.

“Y/N!”

You turn your head just in time to see Jungkook’s devilish grin disappear behind his camera, and you don’t even have time to blink before he begins snapping away, finger mashing the silver button at the top as your expression morphs from surprise to defeat, unable to counter his sniping abilities with a signature peace sign. Even from twenty feet away, you can hear Jungkook laughing as you take the opportunity to pose for a few moments, like you really are a model and he really is your personal photographer. The sound of his giggles fills the air, music to your ears, lingering between you like dandelion wisps, blown by the wind.

Another voice breaks you from your trance.

“And here we have our resident celebrity and her paparazzi,” Jimin says, motioning to the two of you as he speaks to an enormous tour group of potential applicants and their parents. Caught in front of them, the heat suddenly rushes to your cheeks as you instinctively cover your face, embarrassed to have been pointed out by Jimin, whose amicable, lovable personality is both a blessing and a curse when it comes to his part-time job as a tour guide.

The worst part is how some of the parents and students seem to believe him for a second, that you really are famous and that Jungkook really is your photographer, looking at the two of you inquisitively as you shrink beneath their gazes.

“I’m kidding,” Jimin quickly continues as Jungkook joins you where you stand, laughing at the way you look like a deer caught in headlights. “They’re just some friends of mine who we happened to catch outside the library, which is our next stop. But don’t they look so cute together?”

“Are you guys dating?” One of the students pipes up, asking what no one else dared to.

Your eyes widen at the notion, wondering if you and Jungkook really are cursed to always be mistaken for a couple when you two have never been, and most likely will never be one. Shaking your head, you force out a laugh, “No, we’re just friends.” Beside you, Jungkook is noticeably silent. You suppose he’s gotten just as sick of explaining as you.

“Bummer, right?” Jimin asks his group, earning a couple of disappointed nods from innocent high-schoolers that still believe in love. “But I’m working on that, so don’t worry. Anyway, this library will be your main destination for studying, book-reading, and everything in between, and is conveniently located two minutes away from the freshman dorms…”

The conversation finally drawn away from you and Jungkook, you let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you had been holding in. “Weird, right? Even high-schoolers think we’re together.”

Jungkook doesn’t meet your eyes, fiddling with the settings on his camera just to keep his hands busy. The quiet makes you wonder what is going on up inside his head, makes you wonder what it is he’s thinking about, what it is you’re not seeing. Lately, it’s felt like there’s something on Jungkook’s mind you wish he felt comfortable telling you.

“Hey, you alright?” You ask, giving him a little nudge with your side. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” Jungkook says, voice soft, barely audible. It doesn’t make you feel any better. “No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Don’t you have class soon?”

“Oh, shit, you’re right, fuck,” you say, checking your phone only to find you have barely a minute to get to your next class. Guess you’ll be using one of your allotted absences today. “Thanks for reminding me. Dinner tonight?”

“I’ll text you,” Jungkook promises, and you nod your agreement as you dash off, determined to turn a five-minute walk into a one-minute one with the power of exercise. As you leave, you watch as Jungkook flounders outside the library, staring down at his camera and scrolling through his photos, and you still find yourself feeling like you’re missing something. What is Jungkook not telling you?

What do you not know?

By the time you reach your class, two minutes late and completely out of breath, tardiness is the last thing on your mind.

This project was just meant to be a friend helping out a friend. So why does it feel like you and Jungkook are losing each other?

Using Tinder is easy. Dangerously so.

You’re no expert in app design, but its simplified “yes or no” mechanic has you swiping through people like it’s an extreme sport, barely giving some of them a second glance if their Tinder profile description doesn’t make you laugh within the first sentence.

Tinder was, admittedly, not your first choice of potential date-finding methods. Call you old-fashioned, but whatever happened to asking someone in person if they wanted to get a meal with you? To showing up at their doorstep with a rose bouquet and a toothy white grin? Perhaps all of those old-timey movies you and Jungkook always watched have given you unrealistic expectations. But can you blame them?

Even if Tinder wasn’t your first choice, it was certainly the fastest. It takes a second to look at someone’s designated Tinder thumbnail, two to read their description, and three to decide if they’re worth a swipe right. Compare that to actively meeting up with someone, getting their contact information, and then continuing to dance around each other until you finally decide to get dinner together. That’s the sort of thing that could take weeks. Maybe months. And in some cases, years.

Besides, it’s not like you had very many options at your disposal. You don’t trust Maisie to set you up with someone because she’ll probably just choose one of the many boys from her management class and call it a day. Asking someone yourself is absolutely out of the question. And, for some strange, unknown reason, the idea of getting Jungkook to hook you up with one of his friends just doesn’t sit right with you.

So, Tinder it is. And as it turns out, chivalry isn’t dead. It’s just archaic.

An hour into your mindless swiping, you get a message notification. Two hours after that, you’ve got plans with a nice senior boy whom you’ve never met.

And for the first time in a very long time, there’s something to mark on your calendar for Saturday night.

The little blue block on your Google Calendar tab stares back at you from where your open laptop sits on your desk, the red line that signifies your current time slowly inching towards it as you fumble around in front of your mirror, more dressed up than you have been in weeks. Maisie was right. It’s been so long since you’ve gone out with someone that you’ve completely forgotten what the dress code is for something like this. A dress? Heels? Makeup?

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks you will anyway. What if he’s wearing a hoodie and sweats while you look like you’re about to attend the goddamn Academy Awards? Maybe the eyeshadow was a little too much.

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks it’s inevitable that you do. The door to your apartment swings open, and you can hear heavy footsteps making their way to your bedroom, that easy gait of his familiar as always.

“Hey, do you think we can just get some take-out and watch a stupid old noir movie, or something? I’ve had a day,” he shouts out, the sigh audible in his voice.

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks you definitely have when you turn around to see Jungkook standing right outside your bedroom in the floppiest sweater you’ve ever seen and jeans with holes in the knees, mouth agape as he stares straight at you. It’s impossible not to notice the way his eyes are blown wide at the sight of you, at the way they rake up and down your figure, like he can’t even believe what he’s seeing. It’s impossible not to notice how he seems to flounder at the sight of you.

The only thing that breaks the both of you out of your stupors, frozen in place like two criminals caught red-handed, is the sound of his hulking black backpack thudding to the floor.

“Whoa.”

“Do you think it’s too much?” You ask, voice wobbly. God, why are you so nervous? It’s just Jungkook.

“Too much for what?” Jungkook blinks, deliberate and slow, as if he’s determined to make sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him. “Where are you going?”

“I think we’ll have to do a raincheck for the noir movie and takeout,” you say sheepishly, pursing your lips together in fright as you force out a small, tense smile. “I’m… going out. With someone.”

“Like,” Jungkook begins, and even from here you can hear the way he stops himself, hear him breathe out every word, thick on his tongue. “On a date?”

“Yeah.”

It’s a one-syllable word and yet it takes nearly all of your willpower just to say it. Just to confirm what Jungkook’s already thinking. Just to tell him, your best friend, your ride or die, your number one, that you’re going out on a date.

“Oh.” Jungkook’s voice is lifeless. “Do I know them?”

“No, uh, it’s just some guy I met on Tinder. I don’t know, I just wanted to see what all the hype was about, I guess. And I haven’t really been on a date in a while, so I figured I might just take up the opportunity, so we’re probably just going to go out to a restaurant and maybe go to a club afterwards if we’re still in the mood, and—” You cut yourself off, so nervous that you’ve resorted to your terrible habit of rambling to try and ease the tension. “Why? Do you think it’s too much?”

“You use Tinder?” Jungkook asks instead. It sounds like he’s shocked to hear this.

“Yeah…” you trail off. “Why?”

Jungkook freezes at the question, but it’s not because it seems like he doesn’t have an answer. It’s because it seems like he does. Only it’s an answer he doesn’t want to share.

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” he eventually settles on, shaking his head. “You, uh, you look good.”

“You think? I feel like it’s a lot. I don’t know how to dress appropriately for stuff like this anymore,” you ask, palms sweaty as you furiously straighten out the skirt of your dress. “Should I change into pants, or anything?”

“No, no, I think that’s fine,” Jungkook says with an honest smile. “You look nice like this.”

“It’s probably been like, a year since you last saw me in a dress,” you comment mindlessly, turning back to face the mirror as you fiddle with your makeup, finger wiping away a bit of smudged lipstick or a stray bit of mascara. “I miss my sweats. Hey, whoa, wait, what are you doing—?”

You whip around to find Jungkook slowly fishing out the camera from his backpack, hand gripping it tightly as he brandishes it in front of you.

“I, um, I just wanted to see if I could maybe take a photo of you,” Jungkook says, a small, little grin decorating his features. “Since you’re all dressed up.”

“Seriously?” You ask in disbelief.

Jungkook nods, holding the camera out in front of him. “Just one.”

He looks so small, standing across your bedroom. He looks so small and delicate and intimate, body curled in on itself ever so slightly as he looks at you, the yellow glow of your ceiling light reflected in his hazelnut eyes, drowning beneath his clothes. He looks like he has never seen a moment more perfect, never seen an opportunity as clear, looks like he thinks that if he blinks he’ll miss it.

Looks as if a photo will be the only way to remember it.

And you nod. Because he is your best friend, and who are you to deny him of something so simple? Of a press of a button? It doesn’t feel like a project anymore. It just feels like a memory.

Jungkook brings the camera to his eye, and you smile at him, soft and gentle and warm. He grins back, focusing the camera lens before snapping away.

You wonder what he sees.

(You wonder if it’s as beautiful as what you see.)

“Have fun tonight, okay?” Jungkook asks of you as your Google Calendar notification sounds, letting you know you have approximately two minutes before he’s supposed to pick you up outside your apartment.

You nod. “I will. And if I don’t, then I’ll come over afterwards. And we can watch that stupid noir film.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes, a shrug of his shoulders.

“But I want to. So I will. Okay? I’ll text you,” you promise. “Don’t think I’ll forget about you.”

Jungkook smiles at your little tease, at the way you cup the side of his jaw with your hand as you head towards your front door.

“Wait, Y/N,” Jungkook sputters out, running after you. He reaches you right as you get to the door, hand grasping the doorknob. You turn to look at him, blinking. “I hope tonight is everything you dreamed of.”

There is something so distinctly sad in his voice. It makes you wonder who has broken his heart. Makes you wonder what you can do to fix it.

“Even if it’s not,” you say to him, taking his hand in your own and squeezing it tight, reminding him that, no matter what, you’re still here. “I know you’ll always be there to take care of me afterwards.”

Your phone buzzes with a message from your date, and you scurry out the door.

For some reason, there’s a part of you that wishes you never even left.

The date is okay. Not bad, but nothing to write home about. By the time you finished eating, it was obvious neither of you had any interest in continuing the night elsewhere, whether it be a club or a karaoke bar. He pays for your meal despite your insistence that you can handle the check perfectly fine on your own, thanks you for a nice night, and drops you right back at your apartment. And so goes your one and only Tinder experience, blowing away like a leaf in the wind.

You look down at your phone. It isn’t even nine o’clock yet.

[November 7th, 8:48PM]

You: you still game for that movie?

[November 7th, 8:50PM]

Jungkook: you finished your date already?

You: is that a yes or a no

Jungkook: my door is always open, you know that

You: you’re gonna get robbed one day and it’s gonna be by me You: i’m coming over

The walk from your apartment to Jungkook’s is six minutes and thirty seconds on a good day, and seven minutes and fifteen seconds on a bad day, which is usually dependent on if the traffic light over the main road has decided to be extra slow or not. You could walk the damn route in your sleep if you really wanted, having done it so many times in the last year and a half, ever since he moved out of on-campus housing and into his own place.

Tonight, it takes you nearly eight minutes to get to his apartment, but you mostly chalk that up to the heels you’re wearing. If you cared any less about your dignity, you’d probably take them off and walk barefoot like a defeated heroine in a romance movie, shoes dangling from your fingers as they hang low by your side.

But you aren’t defeated. You didn’t have the world’s most spectacular date, but the night isn’t over just yet.

Jungkook’s waiting at his front door by the time you arrive.

“Eight minutes, huh? You’re getting old,” he asks snidely, looking down at the invisible watch on his wrist.

“Your counting is just off,” you retort easily, falling into that same friendly rhythm, that familiar little beat that the two of you share. You push past him and into his apartment, instantly feeling more at home, shoulders sinking and heartbeat soothing as you soak in the scent of his room, of his home, of him.

“How’d it go?” Jungkook asks, eyes hopeful as they watch you tug off your heels. They were hardly three inches tall and yet you still want nothing to do with them.

You shrug. “Eh. It was okay.”

“Just okay?” Jungkook asks, sounding seriously upset for you. Upset that you didn’t have a good night even after you promised him that you would. Upset that it didn’t turn out to be everything you wanted.

“I don’t know,” you admit, looking over at him, dejected. “It just—I just had this feeling that it wasn’t going to work out.”

Jungkook scowls to himself, eyebrows furrowing like he’s trying to figure out what exactly you mean by that. And the truth is, you’re not sure either. The date was fine, and he was nice, but even when you first met it felt like you weren’t going to get what you wanted from him. Like you were just going on the date to go on the date. Like you already knew that it would mean nothing.

Jungkook was going to be waiting for you at the end of the night whether it went amazingly well or terribly bad. And knowing that, strangely enough, almost made you want the date to be horrible. Like it would make seeing Jungkook afterwards that much sweeter.

“Oh,” Jungkook says lamely. “Well, I’m sorry. It seemed like you were really looking forward to it.”

“It’s alright,” you assure him. “Can we just watch this movie now and make fun of how sexist it is? Please?”

To that, Jungkook easily agrees. As he’s queueing up the movie, you raid his closet for a hoodie and sweatpants, desperate to strip yourself of your dress and tights and cozy up in clothes that are much more appropriate for your comfort level. At this point in your friendship, Jungkook doesn’t even question it when he sees you march into his room, fishing through his closet and drawers for your favorite matching set of his, this grey pair that he’s worn so much it still smells like him even after it’s come right out of the wash.

He only stares back in awe when he sees you emerge from his bedroom wearing them.

“Ready?” You ask, breaking him from his resolve.

Jungkook blinks wildly from where he’s seated on his dinky old couch, as if to clear his vision. “What? Oh, yeah, I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Then hurry it up, Mister,” you demand, sitting down next to him and curling into his body. It’s instinctual, at this point, wanting to be close to him. To feel the warmth of his body radiate upon your own. To feel his chest beneath the palm of your hands, his arm wrapped around your side. “All good?” You ask, looking up at him.

Jungkook looks down at you, and you swear, you’ve never seen him more at home. “Always, when I’m with you.”

The movie is predictably good and predictably sexist, but your favorite part by far is when Jungkook reaches around on the coffee table in front of you for his camera, holding it up to his eye and snatching a picture of the television, the film grainy like an old polaroid, faded like an antique photograph. He clicks away at the scene in front of him before turning on you, the lens so close to your face you’re almost certain all he’ll manage to capture is your nose. You laugh, pushing yourself away from him as he snaps, and snaps, and snaps, image after image after image, until his camera battery has died and there’s no more room left on his card.

“Guess I’ll have to charge this thing, then,” Jungkook sighs as he declares his camera dead, screen black.

“You aren’t going to include any of those, are you?” You ask, an eyebrow raised.

Jungkook shrugs. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Don’t you have enough?” You deadpan, thinking back to the hundreds of photos Jungkook must have taken of you over the past week, and even more that you don’t know about. There’s certainly no shortage of them in his current camera inventory. That’s for sure.

“Never,” Jungkook says wickedly. He stretches out an open arm, and you don’t have to think twice about falling into it, letting him wrap you up in his hold, curling into his body.

The black television screen crackles before you, DVD player waiting for Jungkook to turn it off. There’s no need for either of you to look up at each other. Not when you’re strung together like this. Not when you already know exactly where he is.

“It’s due on Monday, right?” You inquire softly, fatigue slowly overtaking you.

“Yeah. I’m almost finished, just have to do some curating and editing.”

“I want to see it.”

“What? My project?”

“What else?”

“It’s just a project, it’s not that exciting.”

You pull away from him at that, looking up at him with furrowed brows and scrunched-up nose. “What do you mean ‘it’s not that exciting’? It’s your photography project. You’ve spent a whole week working on it.”

“Yeah, but it’s just you, you know?” Jungkook objects. “Like, you know what you look like. It’s just going to be a bunch of photos of you, like I said it’d be.”

“That’s exactly why I want to see it,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You took pictures of me for a whole week. Don’t you want to share them with me?”

“If you really want some of the photos, I’ll send you some, but you don’t need to see the whole portfolio, you know? It’s just for my professor,” Jungkook says stiffly, surprisingly resistant. What’s the big deal? It’s not like there will suddenly be new information about you that you didn’t know before. You want to see what Jungkook has been working tirelessly on this entire week. Where’s the harm in that?

“Why are you getting so hung up on this? It’s just photos,” you say with a frown.

“Why are you getting so hung up on this?” Jungkook challenges back.

You sigh, sinking back into him, defeated. Even a little disagreement like that is enough to knock the wind out of the both of you, so you decide not to push it much further.

“Do you promise to show me eventually?” You ask, hopeful.

Jungkook pauses for a moment, and you almost expect him to say no, considering how protective of his work he’s being. “One day,” he declares. “One day, I will.”

And that’s good enough for you.

You lose track of how much time passes after that, feeling your eyelids getting heavy as the warmth of his body envelopes you, drowsiness settling in. There’s just something about this moment, right here, right now, that makes you want to fall asleep.

You’re on the verge of slumber when Jungkook’s voice breaks through.

“Why didn’t you think your date would work out?”

“I don’t know,” you respond sleepily, barely even opening your eyes. “It just felt wrong.”

“How do you know what feels right?”

Good question. Perhaps if you had the energy, you’d answer it. But right now, all you can think about is how cozy you feel in Jungkook’s hoodie and sweatpants, how the scent of him surrounds you, that indescribable, boyish aroma that can’t be replicated. Right now, all you can think about is how easily your body molds into his, like two pieces of a puzzle meant to fit together. Right now, all you can think about is him.

The worst part about each and every week is when it ends. Because the end of one week signifies the beginning of the next, and when you’re in university, the beginning of the next week means a whole new batch of assignments that you have to complete and a whole new batch of due dates to meet.

So, yeah. The weeks have been blurring together for you lately. But what else could you expect?

Sunday evening, as per usual, finds you right back where you always are: Jungkook’s apartment.

The two of you have been regularly getting together on Sundays to study, ever since you both realized you work significantly harder when motivated by the other, determined to finish all of your work on time so you can spend the rest of the night fooling around by mixing Monster with as many unhealthy drinks that you can possibly think of. And it’s been working out well for the both of you so far. Jungkook powers through his coding assignments and you whiz through your readings, intent on keeping up to date with your tasks so they don’t all come crashing down on you at the end of the semester.

Studying with Jungkook has always been easy, largely due to the fact that it’s the one allotted time during your friendship where the both of you deem it best to not speak to each other for the sake of your work. The moment one of you opens your mouth it’s over, so you sit on opposite ends of the room and pretend that the other person isn’t even there.

Jungkook told you earlier today that he had already finished his photography portfolio, so there would unfortunately be no sneaky glances over his shoulder to see if you can catch a glimpse of one of the pictures. Which is fine by you, you’re just a little embarrassed that Jungkook had told you this outright. Not that you were planning to do exactly that, but you were planning to do exactly that.

Part of you. more than anything, wants to know why Jungkook won’t just show you himself. Why he’s being so secretive, so protective of his photography project when you both know already exactly what’s in it. For God’s sake, he just spent the entire week taking photos of you non-stop. It’s like not as if any part of this is a mystery to either of you. What more could he have done?

Whatever. You aren’t going to force it if he doesn’t want you to. You suppose that maybe one day, far into the future, he’ll finally decide that the time is right.

“I’m so fucking tired,” Jungkook declares lifelessly as he gets up from where he’s sitting on your bed, dead inside. “I need a break.”

“Are you going to the kitchen? Can you make me some tea, please?” You ask him, looking up from the laptop on your desk.

Jungkook nods wordlessly before disappearing out of the room.

You and Jungkook’s best study practice to maximize productivity is the taking of each other’s cell phones so that the other cannot be tempted to look at it. It’s worked plenty of times before and will probably work plenty of times again, because as they say, out of sight, out of mind.

Unfortunately, it’s hard to pretend that your phone is out of sight when it’s been buzzing on your bedside table for the past five minutes, and your fingers have been itching to get over there and answer your damn notifications. So, while Jungkook is out of the room, you decide to cheat a little by dashing over there just to see what the heck is going on in the rest of the world.

As it turns out, nothing much. Just Maisie texting you as she binges yet another television show, giving spoiler-free updates anytime anything remotely dramatic happens. You have a couple of new emails as well.

The thing that actually catches your attention the most, is Jungkook’s laptop screen.

There’s just a Word document open on it, but a Word document is a far cry from his usual coding program or Photoshop. Because you can’t help yourself, you peer over to see what he’s written.

What did you learn about yourself through this assignment? How do you think you’ve changed?

Hard to say that I have. I don’t think I learned something about myself so much as I confirmed what I already knew, cementing it as a real thought in my brain, rather than just a daydream. Nothing changed in the way that my best friend and I interacted, and I can almost confirm that nothing changed in the way that she feels about me, just as nothing changed in the way I feel about her. I guess you could say I learned that I don’t think anything could ever change the way I feel about her.

What?

Do you think you’ll ever look back on this project, whether it be as a reference or a memory?

Yes. Not as a reference but to remind myself of this very moment in my life—a single week over the course of my life that I felt was worth saving. I imagine that there will come a time, far in the future, where my best friend and I have separated a little bit, found our own lives and created our own families with our own people. And when that happens, I will look back on this project to remind myself of who we used to be. How we used to feel about each other. Maybe, by that point in time, it won’t hurt as much as it does now.

This feels personal. Maybe you should stop reading. But there’s just one more question left on the page…

This assignment forced you to create an entire portfolio, from scratch, using a subject you would have to regularly schedule time with. It was demanding. But, that said, would you ever do this again?

Yes. If it meant getting to spend more time with her, take more photos of her, see her smile once more, I would do it a thousand times over.

“Y/N?”

You hadn’t even heard the kettle whistling.

“Jungkook,” you say, breathless, caught red-handed.

“What are you doing?” He asks, placing your steaming cup of tea down on the desk as he stares back at you in horror, in surprise, in worry, in something. Something that gives you this imminent sense of impending doom.

“Uh—”

“Were you reading my computer screen?”

It’s not like you could say you were doing anything else.

“I couldn’t help myself, I came over here to check my phone since it’s been buzzing like crazy and your computer was right there and I just…” you sputter out, thoughts swirling inside your head.

(I will look back on this project to remind myself of who we used to be. How we used to feel about each other. Maybe, by that point in time, it won’t hurt as much as it does now.

If it meant getting to see her smile once more, I would do it a thousand times over.

I guess you could say I learned that I don’t think anything could ever change the way I feel about her.)

“What do you mean, how you feel about me?” You ask, because you can’t help yourself. Because the sound of his voices echoes in your head like the beat of a drum, over and over and over. Because you’re staring back at him and even if he just caught you snooping through his computer you can never be worried when it comes to him. Because everything he has ever done puts you at ease.

“Y/N, that is private, why would you read something like that?” He asks, each word a sucker punch into your heart.

“Because I just had to know, okay?” You shout back. “I had to know what you were hiding from me.”

“So you decided to snoop through my computer to see if you could figure it out yourself?” He demands, storming over to you.

“So you are hiding something?”

“That’s not the point, the point is that—”

“What are you not telling me, Jungkook?” You cry out, watching as he approaches you, dark eyes piercing your gaze. “Why won’t you show me your goddamn portfolio? If there’s really nothing to be afraid of, why are you keeping it from me? I’m your best friend, I’m the fucking subject of your project? Don’t I deserve to see it? Why won’t you show me?”

“Because then you’d know!” Jungkook shouts back, leaving deafening silence in his wake. You look up at him, blinking. In front of you, Jungkook is out of breath, chest heaving.

He looks so strained. So tired. Like he’s been carrying around this secret for months now, maybe even years, and this is the final straw. This is what has sent the both of you crashing down upon each other. This stupid fucking project. You’ve known Jungkook ever since the beginning of your freshman year, and never before have you seen him so hopeless.

“Jungkook—?”

“You’d know, goddamnit,” Jungkook says, hand coming up to rub at his forehead, dragging down his cheek. “And I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that.”

“Know what? What would I know?”

Jungkook closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. Opens them again. “That I’m in love with you.”

The words drift in between the two of you, hovering in the air like feathers. You see them, clear as day, in front of you, hear them echoing in your head, over and over and over again. Feel the way your blood is pumping, the way your heart is beating.

“You’re in love with me?” You ask him.

“I didn’t want you to find out this way,” Jungkook admits. “Or at all, really. But I have been, for a while now.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was afraid that I’d lose you.”

You chuckle, a small, little thing from the back of your throat. “You must have known I’d never let that happen, hmm?”

Jungkook smiles softly. “I was scared. Can you blame me? You’re my best friend.”

“And you are mine,” you remind him.

“It’s just—” Jungkook begins, like the gates of a dam are opening up. “We’d known each other for so long, and we have such a good thing going as is, always texting and calling and hanging out together, studying together on Sunday nights and seeing each other during the week, and I didn’t want to ruin anything. And then my professor assigned this project, and the only person I could think of to take photos was you, but I didn’t want to ask that of you in case you thought it was weird, but you suggested it anyway so I said yes, but I knew. I knew then that the moment I took one goddamn photo of you it would be obvious, and that if you ever saw you would just know. Stuff like that is easy to pick up in pictures, because a camera is like, tunnel vision for whatever it is you want to focus on most, and that’s you, that’s always been you, so I—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt, reaching out to him, pressing a soft hand to his cheek. “Just, shut up, okay?”

And then you cup his head in both of your hands, and press a kiss to his lips. A small one, if nothing else, but a kiss nonetheless. You press your lips against his own and immediately you feel the sparks rush through you, this flash of heat that settles into something softer, something sweeter. It ignites and soothes you all at once, like a stray lightning bolt out on the open ocean. Like a single clap of thunder and the pitter patter of rain.

You press a kiss to his lips and when you pull away, Jungkook’s eyes are closed, lips parted ever so slightly. And for a moment there, you almost think you did the wrong thing.

But barely a second more passes before he’s scooping you up in his arms and pulling you in close to him, his lips finding yours like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. He holds you tight, hands pressed against the small of your back as he kisses you, warm and fiery and full, as if he can’t get enough, as if this is his only chance. You gasp into it before relaxing in his hold, cold hands on his warm cheeks, body melting at the feeling of him, of him all over you, of his hands and his mouth and his chest, this perfect, solid figure.

He kisses you and it sends heat shooting through your body, filling you up from the inside out, like your heart has burst and filled your bloodstream with fire, with sparks of warmth that tingle all over. He kisses you, and everywhere his hands press is another sizzle to your skin, an electric shock that makes you giggle into his mouth.

He kisses you and it feels like a storm has settled, feels like gentle rain after a hurricane, feels like waves crashing against the shore. He kisses you and it is the only thing you can think about.

By the time you part once more, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Jungkook so blissed out.

“See?” You point out softly. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

Jungkook looks positively dazed. “I think I need to lie down.”

“Ooh, was I that good?” You tease.

“I’m dreaming.” He shakes his head. “I’m definitely fucking dreaming.”

Jungkook sinks onto your bed, hitting the mattress with a thud. He stares mindlessly in front of him, like his brain needs time to process.

You smile to yourself. He can have all the time in the world.

“Is this real?” He mumbles when you sit down next to him, press another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Are you real?”

“Just like you,” you promise him. “I didn’t know this is what we had been missing, all this time.”

“It wasn’t missing,” Jungkook assures you. “It was just hidden.”

“I love you,” you whisper, watching him swallow the words like a glass of wine. “I think I always have. You just needed to say it first.”

“Oblivious as always.” Jungkook grins, smiling against your lips. “But I’m glad. If this is what it would take, then I’m glad.”

“You wouldn’t change anything?” You ask him, eyes wide and curious.

It’s hard to know how long you and Jungkook have been secretly pining over each other. Hard to know how long Jungkook has known that he’s loved you, how long it’s been since you started to feel the same, even if subconsciously. It’s hard to know how long you would have kept going if not for this project. It might have been months. Years. Years that Jungkook was willing to spend holding back, if only it meant keeping you by his side.

“No,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest answer in the world. “I have you now. Why would I?”

What did you learn about yourself through this assignment? How do you think you’ve changed?

Previously, I had responded to this question by saying that I hadn’t learned anything, and felt that nothing changed in my life. Then, some things happened. And after those things, I learned that I am the luckiest man alive. To know my best friend is one thing. To love her is a privilege. To have her love me back is nothing less than a miracle.

Do you think you’ll ever look back on this project, whether it be as a reference or a memory?

Yes. Every day for the rest of my life. I don’t think I’ve ever been as thankful to receive a homework assignment as I am, right now. I owe everything to this project. It is the reason I have her.

This assignment forced you to create an entire portfolio, from scratch, using a subject you would have to regularly schedule time with. It was demanding. But, that said, would you ever do this again?

Yes. I want to take photos of her for the rest of my life. I want to save every memory we ever share together. So that far into the future, we can look back on them together and say, “Remember that?”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #bts au #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #w: the love project #yes i am finishing this at 6am on the day its meant to be posted... MIND UR OWN BUSINESS

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wolfstarlibrarian · 3 years

Note

HELLO I was jw what were your favourite fics featuring POC Marauders without the shitty stereotyping 💜

Also thank you librarian for your content. Honestly this is the top tier rec blog in the fandom due to your amazing taste.

Well THIS is a great ask! It’s nice to see fans looking for authentic diversity in fics as opposed to tokenism. Just about all of these fics have been listed on various library lists, but hopefully people enjoying seeing them listed somewhere convenient. Also, this is just a VERY SMALL selection of fics featuring Remus or Sirius as POC, so if you’re looking for more of a certain representation, just send an ask!

Also, a note to authors looking to include representation (other than their own ethnicity) in their next fic: make sure that you read first hand experiences from multiple sources, research with advocacy groups, and THEN try reach out to a peer who can potentially beta/do a sensitivity read for you. It's important that we all try and learn as much as possible on our own before asking our peers to work as our educators. ❤️

POC Wolfstar

Black James & Cuban Sirius

Be My Baby by @remus-john-lupin It’s the summer of 1963, and 18 year old Remus Lupin discovers dance, love, and even himself. (A very romantic and very gay Dirty Dancing AU.)

Latino Remus

Forget-Me-Not by @halictus-writer

For someone who just woke up with amnesia and a bad concussion, Remus Lupin isn't too dispirited. He'll get through it with the help of his friends, taking it one day at a time, as Sirius says. The only (other) problem? There's something important that he's forgetting.

Retrial by phoenixgal

Remus Lupin, host of the popular podcast Retrial, decides to focus on the case of Sirius Black, a man convicted of murdering his high school best friend, for his upcoming season. Remus has gotten too close to his subjects in the past, so he promises himself that won't happen this time.

Desi Sirius

Young Hearts Intertwined by @goodboylupin

There’s a special kind of magic to a wartime wedding.

Latino Remus & Desi Sirius

A Lucky Mishap by softiejace Of course this would be just Remus’ luck - the library printer breaking when the deadline for his term paper is coming up. And to top it off, the pretty boy he’s been running into all week is there to witness his moment of misery… but maybe he can turn things around?

Sephardic Jewish Remus

Candles in the Darkness by @miraxb

In the winter of seventh year, James, Sirius, and Remus are all carrying their own burdens and fears for the growing darkness in their world. Together, they find comfort and light at the Hanukkah celebration in the Lupin household.

Half Syrian Remus

I Tried Writing Your Name In The Rain, But It Never Came, So I Used The Sun Instead by @prefectmoony

Don’t get Remus wrong. He loves his friends, he does! Loves them to the moon and back in fact. They’re his people, his favorite part of everyday, his found family. He’d do anything for them. But the thing is that doesn’t take away from the very simple fact that his friends are fucking ridiculous. Remus knows this, has known it for five years now. But it doesn’t stop him from startling awake on the morning of his sixteenth birthday surprised by the sound of fireworks exploding in their dormitory and a raucous chorus of “Happy birthday Moony!” being shouted into his ear with jaunty gusto.

Chinese Sirius

got a fascination (with your presentation) by @alifeincoffeespoons

When Remus thought of Oxford as a child, he envisioned turrets, laughter, and an unnameable, unforgettable magic. He did not envision vomiting his breakfast all over himself while standing in the halls of St. Catherine’s College.

Cut Your Bangs by @notmycatsname

"There’s something about him that catches Sirius’s eye. His voice is a little whiny, almost off-key. Sirius has heard it time and time again in the bands that Lily plays through their speakers at their apartment but it sounds more genuine, almost heart breaking, through his voice. Remus’s voice."

Black Remus, Desi Sirius & James

Palo Alto by NachoDiablo

Modern AU set in Silicon Valley. It's easy for Sirius to ignore his mixed-up feelings while he's got Remus all to himself, but when Remus starts dating again, Sirius is forced to figure things out before Remus moves on for good. Or before James and Peter strangle them both.

Japanese Remus and Taiwanese Sirius

kavaluan (means white lily here) by @claudiafekete 1926, Taiwan. Japanese empire's prized colony. Remus needed an interpreter. Sirius volunteered.

Philippino Sirius

Problems with Narrative Structure and the Rules of Manly Engagement [+Podfic] by @xinasvoice

"There were easily six hundred people living in the Paramount building in downtown San Francisco. That was a lot of neighbors to get to know, but it only took a single day of living there for Sirius to notice Remus."

Latino Remus & Japanese-American!Sirius

Discards by @picascribit When 21-year-old assistant librarian Sirius spots a cute hipster college student at the Seattle Public Library, he just needs to figure out a subtle way of determining whether he’s into guys. But Remus’s life is more complicated than Sirius knows.

Native American Sirius

Grimsfall by @remus-john-lupin

There is a legend in the old city of Grimsfall that a large, black creature used to emerge from the forest at night, and anyone who met its gaze would be driven to madness before the thing dragged them into the depths of hell.

Mexican Remus & Sirius

A Whole Queer County Fair by @bigblackdogfic Two queer Mexican kids talking, having sex, and feeling their feelings in Arizona.

Indigenous Australian Remus

Among The Gumtrees by WolfstarGarden Sirius inherits his uncle's farm, but finding the right farmhand isn't as simple as he'd hoped: Sirius just couldn’t help but wonder if fantasising about his straight farm assistant was maybe one boundary breach too far. On the other hand, perhaps Remus shouldn’t suck on the end of his pen while lost in thought.

South American Remus

The Delegate by @wanderingbandurria

It’s 1921, and Sirius Black is a sailor that wants to prove himself as a political agitator. He sets foot in a lost, forgotten port in South America, where he’s supposed to help with the local organization of syndicalists. He’s not expecting to meet a brown-eyed man who is there to help put his words into Spanish. A man that’s really not interested in anything but doing his job. Nothing more.

Thai Sirius

Whatever Words I Say -orphaned fic

When Remus Lupin is hired to control the antics of famous lead singer of the Marauders, Sirius Black, he knows he has his work cut out for him. Sirius is contrary and has absolutely no chill, and loves pissing off the press. Remus feels up to the challenge, but he certainly does not expect to fall head over heels in love from the moment he meets the charismatic singer.

Something Beautiful -orphaned fic When Remus Lupin’s ex talks him into a drunken tattoo mistake, he goes to his friend and co-worker Lily for help. Luckily her husand’s best mate is a tattoo artist who can help with the cover up. Unfortunately for Remus, the tattoo in in a rather compromising area, and he’ll have to get over his embarrassment. Luckily for him, Sirius Black is just the man for the job.

So many fics and yet so many more to go! As always, feel free to reblog with your own recs!

#poc #wolfstar #remus x sirius #remus lupin #sirius black #desi #asian #black #Latino #mexican #Japanese #chinese #native american #Philippino #Syrian #cuban #aaaaah sorry this list got so long!

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thenigotthisfamily · 2 years

Note

Hi! Do you think you could write a story where Yelena seeks out Natasha’s attention for the first time? Maybe Natasha gets annoyed and pushes her sister away, but later she realizes what Yelena really wants and she feels bad for not realizing it, so she goes off to find her little sister curled up on her bed in a pile of blankets, crying softly. Maybe Natasha crawls under the blankets with her little sister and cuddles her and makes her smile again. Thanks!

Thanks for this request! I felt bad for Yelena in this one, but curling up under a pile of blankets always helps. 😂 Enjoy!

Word Count: 1,391

Yelena walks into her and Natasha’s apartment with a wide grin on her face. “Hey Poser, I’m home! Look what I got!”

Only silence greets her.

Yelena frowns, she knows Natasha is here. “Poser?” She walks carefully around the apartment, the assassin part of her wary, though she doesn’t sense anything suspicious.

The blonde finds Natasha in her office, back turned to the door, intently studying records that Clint had sent her.

Yelena tilts her head, and frowns at her sister’s work. She doesn’t understand how even on the run Natasha had Avengers paperwork. She leans against the doorframe, intent on pulling her sister away from her desk. It was clear Natasha had been at it for hours and needed a break. Plus, Yelena had things she wanted to show Natasha from her adventures today.

“You know, you shouldn’t let people sneak up on you Poser.”

Natasha sighs but doesn’t turn around. “I heard your motorbike half a mile up the road Yelena.”

The younger sister rolls her eyes, she knew Natasha knew she was there. She was trying to lighten the seriousness of the atmosphere but clearly the spy wasn’t cooperating. She steps further into the office and leans on the desk, looking down at Natasha who doesn’t look up. “What you working on Poser?”

The spy grunts, still not looking up. “Clint sent me files on an old cold case we worked on with Fury.”

Yelena raises her eyebrows in interest. In the short time they had been reunited, Natasha hadn’t talked much about her time at SHIELD, especially not as a spy for Nick Fury. The Red Room was very aware of SHIELD considering how many times the US organization had tried to take it down. So Yelena had heard a lot about Fury, but it still seemed so strange to her that Natasha had actually worked with him.

“Really? Care to tell me about it?”

“Not now Yelena.”

The blonde frowns at the coldness in her sister’s voice. It was clear Natasha was stressed, but it didn’t make it sting any less. Yelena huffs, determined to try one more time. “Come on Poser, just take a break for a few minutes? You look like you could use one and you have time. Plus. I have something really cool to show you!”

“I said not now Yelena! Can’t you see I’m working? Stop being so annoying!”

Yelena recoils as if Natasha had punched her. She quickly pulls away from the desk. “Sorry.” She mumbles as she quickly retreats to her room.

It’s only when Yelena is gone that Natasha looks up with a frown. Guilt immediately fills her chest. Great, she thinks. I’ve pushed Yelena away again. She remembers back to how when they were little, Yelena often tried to comfort Natasha when she was having a bad day. The small girl had no concept of the Red Room then, and no idea why Natasha was sad, but would do everything to cheer her up. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes Natasha simply pushed Yelena away, not able to deal with her own emotions and thoughts and a younger sister at the same time. She also didn’t want to burden Yelena with the heaviness of her past. You’d think 21 years later and a lifetime of training Natasha would have gotten over pushing the blonde away, but clearly she hadn’t.

Natasha curses and shoves the reports she had been looking to the floor in frustration at herself. The case was a failed mission that had resulted in the deaths of 6 members of her and Clint’s team that they had never been able to figure out. She still felt guilt over it to this day for failing them, and that guilt had only resurfaced after she had gotten the new evidence from Clint that morning in the mail. But that still gave her no excuse for how she had treated her baby sister who was only trying to help and lighten her mood.

She stands up and goes off to find Yelena, hoping she hadn’t completely ruined everything again. She quickly looks around the house but she knows Yelena is in her room. At last she stands in front of the closed door, shifting nervously. Finally, she gathers her courage to raise her hand to knock but a voice cuts her off before she even can.

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

Natasha rests her head against the door, “Yelena please-”

“Go away!” It comes out coldly, but Natasha can hear the crack in her sister’s voice indicating that the girl had been crying. The realization makes the black widow want to cry herself.

Natasha frowns but sets her jaw in resolve and slowly opens the door. What she finds makes her stomach churn with even more guilt. Her sister is buried under a pile of blankets with only a few tufts of blonde hair sticking out. As Natasha walks further into the room the blonde pulls more blankets over her head in an attempt to block her sister out.

“What part of ‘I don’t want to talk’ does this family not understand?” The words come out gruffly, and Natasha can hear the deep sadness in her voice, even though the blonde is desperately trying to cover it up.

“Lena…” Natasha slowly climbs on the bed and reaches out to put a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Yelena flinches away from the touch. “Whatever. Go away.”

The spy frowns and pulls her hand back. She understands why Yelena is pushing her away, she doesn’t blame her. But she wasn’t going to give up that easily. She tries a new angle, “What is this cool thing you want to show me?”

“Nothing.”

Natasha bites her lip and glances down at the bundle of blankets next to her when an idea occurs to her. With a small smile she reaches out to slide under the covers all the way and crawls closer to her sister.

Yelena tenses, “What do you want Poser.” She tries to continue to sound mad, but she’s curious about what her sister is doing.

A second later Natasha’s head pops up over her shoulder but under the pile of blankets. Yelena feels a smile coming to her lips despite herself and turns to bury her face in the pillows so Natasha won’t see, wanting to make her sister work a bit more.

“I saw that smile.” Natasha grins, wrapping an arm around Yelena.

“You saw nothing Poser.” Yelena huffs, already feeling herself melt into her sister’s embrace.

Natasha rolls her eyes, knowing Yelena wanted her to grovel more and figuring she deserved that. She tugs Yelena closer and rests her forehead against the blonde’s. “I’m sorry Rooskaya.”

“Hmm for what?” The blonde smirks.

The older sister sighs, “For being an asshole.” She strokes Yelena’s cheek gently, “And hurting you and making you sad. I don’t know why I keep hurting you…” Natasha guiltily looks at the ground.

Yelena huffs, “Okay, none of that.” She grabs more blankets to pile on top of them, effectively blocking out most of the light and burying them completely under the blankets. She then pushes Natasha down so she can nuzzle close to her sister.

Natasha chuckles and wraps her arms tightly around her sister. “What are you doing little one?”

“Mmm getting cuddles as my payment for you being grouchy to me.”

Natasha grins, “I suppose that’s fair.” She reaches up and scratches the hairs on Yelena’s neck soothingly. “I really am sorry Lena.”

The blonde yawns and brushes the comment off. “I know Poser. You were stressed.”

“Yeah but-”

“Shut uppp.” Yelena throws a hand over Natasha’s mouth to stop the apologies. The spy huffs but finally quiets. It’s only then that Yelena nods tiredly and removes her hand.

“So what was this cool this you wanted to show me?”

“Hmm?” Yelena mumbles, already half asleep. “Oh, it’s a new vest I got for you. But I’ll show it to you later. Let’s nap now.”

Natasha smiles and sees that her sister has already fallen asleep, feeling tiredness fall over herself too. She feels a gush of appreciate and love for her sister who always stood by her, no matter how much she tried to push Yelena away.

“Thank you little one.” Natasha murmurs before falling asleep.

#natasha and yelena #yelena and natasha #yelena belova #natasha romanoff #black widow fanfiction

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writtenonreceipts · 2 years

Note

first of all THANK YOU for the prompt list, it is marvelous!!

secondly, i feel like you could do something completely brilliant with #23, Hold my hand, it's almost over.

idk what it is but prompt lists are so fun for me. i'm not the best at them, but i like seeing what i can do with them, lol. i hope they provide some inspiration :)

as for the prompt...how's about some elorcan?

Canon, in which Elide is determined to finally heal her ankle.

Warnings: depictions of extreme pain/distress, mentions of potential miscarriage ~2.4k words

…

There Now, Steady Love

Searing hot pain rippled up Elide’s ankle and to her thigh. It was unlike anything she’d experienced before as it drove not just into her muscles, but her very bones as well.

She screamed around the rag that had been stuffed into her mouth to try and prevent her from waking the dead. It wasn’t working. In fact, Elide wondered if calling upon Anneith would be more helpful than the damned rag. Death sounded like better relief than to keep enduring whatever this was.

“A little longer,” Yrene’s calm voice informed her.

Elide groaned and squeezed her eyes shut. This was hell. It had to be.

After over a year of preparatory probing and research, Yrene and Elide had finally determined the best course of action in healing Elide’s damaged ankle. Yet no amount of work could ready Elide for feeling as though her entire body were being ripped apart sinew by sinew.

The pain wasn’t just limited to her leg. No. It extended through every nerve ending, every muscle, every ligament. It was all she could do to keep from passing out.

“Almost,” Yrene said. Her voice somehow pierced the clouded haze of Elide’s mind. The promise of relief was not very comforting right now.

The healing had been long discussed and anticipated ever since Yrene first recommended it. Even with waiting until after Yrene delivered her baby and had time to regain strength—they’d both been eager to see what they could accomplish on the matter. And then Elide had been busy rebuilding Perranth and making sure the peerage was settled in their new duties. Not to mention attempting to tame Lorcan into behaving around the lot of them. The time just hadn’t been feasible to make this actually happen.

Elide had been waiting years for this and she would endure the pain. Because once this part of her life was over with—she could truly move on from her past. Even if she’d come to terms with her parents' deaths and her uncle's treatment of her, Elide knew that being able to walk (for herself) was a stepping stone she needed to pass.

“Alright,” Yrene said, withdrawing her soft hands from Elide’s burning foot.

The relief wasn’t immediate, pain still lanced through her leg and pulsed with each heartbeat, but Elide could finally take a full breath.

“Mala above,” Elide gasped, spitting out the makeshift gag. “Are you sure you gave me enough laudanum?”

“I can’t have you completely delirious,” Yrene reminded her.

It had been a long, arduous discussion especially after Lorcan had gotten involved.

Elide felt a new round of tears prick her eyes as she caught her breath. Hadn’t she cried enough? Wasn’t there a point in which the pain would finally numb everything away?

She looked to the empty stool beside her bed. She’d wanted this—for Lorcan not to be there. Even if his magic would have helped her endure the pain. He would have forced Yrene to stop hours ago and insisted they could go again another day.

Elide loved that brute of a demi-fae but she knew what she wanted. Still, she had betrayed him in letting him go off with Rowan, Fenrys, and Vaughn for a respite in the mountains. The males of the court were antsy for something to do other than organize treaties and listen to badgering farmers. Vaughn had been the only one she’d told about her plans because he was the only one she could trust to keep a secret.

It was the perfect opportunity to start the healing process.

But as Elide rubbed the muscles of her leg and wiped her nose on her shoulder—all she could feel was guilt. She knew that, despite his protestations, Lorcan wanted to be here for Elide. He wanted to help her with the pain and recovery. Elide loved him for it. Loved him for that ferocity he had. And she couldn’t help but wish he was there now. Damn her.

“Are you ready?” Yrene asked as Elide slowly sat up again. “I’ve gotten past the callouses built up on the bones, we can move on to the muscles with more focus.”

Elide cursed. It already felt like her entire leg had been torn apart, what more could she take.

Yrene smiled grimly. Her thick, dark curls spiraled out from beneath her headwrap and sweat stained her brow. “You can do this, Elide.”

“What about you?” Elide prodded. “Regretting your life choices yet?”

“After delivering a seven-pound baby,” Yrene said dryly, “I’m fairly certain I can withstand this.”

Elide snorted a laugh. She’d helped Yrene when the time came for her delivery, the two having grown close during the war and Elide’s small dabbling’s with healing. If there was ever a woman who knew strength and endurance it was Yrene Westfall.

“Alright,” Elide finally said. She grabbed the gag-rag and refolded it. “I’m ready.”

Yrene moved her hands back to Elide’s outstretched legs. When nothing happened, Elide shifted slightly.

“What?” she asked.

Yrene looked up, her honey gold eyes wary. “Are you sure you don’t want Lorcan here?”

Had her entire body not been thrumming with pain, Elide would have launched out of the bed. Instead, she settled on a scowl. When she shifted, her leg hummed with pain that felt like someone were plucking her ligaments like a bowstring.

“I told you, it’s fine,” Elide insisted.

Even with the guilt in her heart, Elide was still a little mad at Lorcan. She had no reason to be of course, not really. She’d known he was fiercely loyal and protective. Even a year after the events at Skulls Bay, she knew his actions still affected him. But sometimes the male drove her insane.

The last time Yrene and Elide were determined to set about the healing had been interrupted when a lady’s maid had made the incorrect assumption that Elide’s courses were late. Right where Lorcan could hear.

Even with Elide’s continued assurance she wasn’t with child, Lorcan had remained staunchly alert of everything Elide did and insisted they hold off on the healing process. Her cycles were irregular in any case and there weren’t any of the tell-tale signs of pregnancy. Besides, she’d simply known. Perhaps it was terror at the thought of having a baby or simply feeling that it couldn’t be possible. They’d been careful with tonics and everything. Not to mention they were not even a year into their marriage—they wanted to wait. In any case, Lorcan had taken a note out of Rowan’s book and become fussy and overbearing on what could have been. The effort and bodily fatigue of the healing process simply wouldn’t have made a pregnancy viable. Elide understood that and if she had been pregnant that first time, she would have agreed with her husband.

“He’s your mate, Elide,” Yrene said, “he could help with this.”

“It’s fine,” Elide insisted. Her chest seized just a little at the thought. Her mate. The person who knew her better than anyone. She still wasn’t convinced of that fact. But sometimes when Lorcan looked at her she could feel that thread of love wrapping around her heart.

Yrene pursed her lips. “You get to deal with the angry demi-fae.”

Elide stuck the rag in her mouth in answer. She could handle her husband. She’d waited long enough for her ankle to be healed.

Rolling her eyes, Yrene ran her hands over Elide’s ankle again. This time the pain came immediately. A dull ache throbbed in Elide’s ankle. The heavy pain rolled slowly up her leg settling just above her heel. It remained there for several seconds before inching up beneath her skin bit by bit.

Elide fisted her fingers into the sheets of the bed. It was a good thing she hadn’t eaten or drunk anything in a day or else she was convinced she’d make a mess of herself. The pain worked its way higher up her calf now. Her muscles were quivering with being rearranged and adjusted like this.

The pain was getting so intense that Elide felt a sharp tug burrow deep in her chest. Snarling against the gag, she nearly arched off the bed at that.

“Breathe, Elide!” Yrene barked. The order was laughable. How the hell could she breathe right now?

As stars burst behind Elide’s eyes and a low hum began in her ears, she was certain she’d passed out. She couldn’t focus on anything beyond that pain. She needed her husband. That much was certain. Elide could take a hit to her pride at that. She didn’t care.

And then, just as the thought wormed through her mind—there was a sliver of ease among the hurt. It was bare, soft and gentle as it soothed over her and Elide could finally suck down a breath.

She didn’t have time to consider what had happened when a large, warm hand curled around hers.

The sense of relief the oozed through Elides muscles was immediate and a new wave of tears rolled down her cheeks. She was surrounded by the warm scent of cinnamon and she knew Lorcan was there.

He was saying something, but Elides ears were ringing and she couldn’t focus on anything but remaining conscious. There was a steady cadence to his words and Elide was certain he was only offering support. His magic ran along Elide’s body like cool tendrils and more of that deep hurt thrumming in her body disappeared.

“Okay!” Yrene shouted, breaking through the haze of pain in Elides mind.

At once the ache eased and all that was left was Lorcan’s easy magic running over Elide’s leg.

“Mala above!” Elide snarled, spitting the gag out. She cursed several more times, rolling onto her side, closer to where Lorcan was.

One of his hands went to her cheek running along her jaw and into her hair. She leaned into his touch, desperate to have him nearby. When she finally blinked through her tears, Elide looked up to her husband who gazed anxiously down at her.

“You didn’t wait for me,” he murmured.

“You worry too much,” Elide said. Her words didn’t have as much bravado as she wanted. Instead, her voice was raspy from screaming.

Lorcan bowed his head down to press his forehead to hers. His onyx eyes gleamed as he held her gaze. She could feel the worry and hurt emanating from him.

“I could feel the minute it started,” he told her. The hand still entwined in her fingers squeezed tightly. “You scared me before Vaughn told me what you’d planned.”

Elide would whack Vaughn for his betrayal later. For now, she took a shaky breath. “I knew you’d try and talk me out of this.”

Her husband let out an unamused bark. “You are the most stubborn woman I know, Elide. I knew I wouldn’t be able to talk you out of this. But I don’t have to like the pain you’re putting yourself through.”

“I can take it,” she replied. She frowned up at him, earning a wry chuckle.

Lorcan pressed a kiss to her nose. “I know you can, heart. But will you please let me help you?”

Taking a few deep breaths, Elide rolled onto her back again and spared a glance to Yrene. Her friend was pretending to not be listening to them as she took a long drink from a water skein.

“Thank-you,” Elide whispered looking back at her husband. Lorcan smiled, something soft and far sweeter than she ever saw from her. Her heart seized at the sight.

Yrene cleared her throat softly. “I see a bit of scar tissue built up along the muscles. It’s going to take some work to clear up. But once that’s done, I’m sure it should be a bit easier going forward.”

Sitting up a little bit more against the stack of pillows behind her, Elide nodded stiffly.

“Then let's start.”

Lorcan shifted closer to her and Elide wondered how much longer it would take before he climbed up on the bed beside her. And if she were being honest, Elide wouldn’t mind that at all.

“Hold my hand,” Lorcan said, offering his hand once again. “It’s almost over.”

Elide did so, gripping his fingers tighter than before. She stuffed the gag in her mouth again and braced for the pain again.

…

Elide had no idea how long she’d slept for. It could have been hours; it could have been days. All she knew was that when she woke up her leg pulsed with an ache.

Whimpering, Elide tried to roll on her side. Tried to because her husband lay next to her with a heavy arm draped over her that prevented her from moving too far. At the sounds she made, Lorcan stirred. His arm tightened around her. His nose nuzzled into her neck and his breath was warm against her skin.

“Elide?” he murmured. “Are you awake?”

The question had her wondering how often she’d spent in a delirium of pain unable to actually speak.

“Regrettably,” she told him.

Lorcan propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at her. His frown made deep grooves appear on his brow as he considered her words.

Smiling, Elide raised a hand to smooth over her jaw. “I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

Her words didn’t convince him as he turned his head to press a kiss into her palm.

“Are you hungry?” Lorcan asked.

Elide shook her head. She felt nauseous and was more than willing to lay in bed.

“I just want to stay here,” she said.

Lorcan settled back beside her and pulled her tighter against him. “We can do that.”

His magic was a steady thread around her that Elide could have easily fallen back asleep.

“Thank-you,” she sighed. “For believing in me.”

Humming, Lorcan ran a hand along her side. “I don’t like seeing you in pain.”

“It was something I needed to do.” She said the words softly, carefully. Lorcan had always given her leave to run the house, run her life, as she saw fit. He often came to her to ask for advice as well. Still, she could understand his protective nature.

“I know,” Lorcan said. He kept up his soothing ministrations along her side. “How’s your leg?”

“Not the best,” Elide admitted. She nestled into Lorcan though, and sighed. “But you’re here.”

“Always,” he promised, “my heart.”

And that was all she needed.

...

tags: let me know if you’d like to be added/removed.

@morganofthewildfire // @aelinchocolatelover // @sexy-dumpster-fire // @bamchickawowow // @ireallyshouldsleeprn // @courtofjurdan // @sassys-world // @sleeping-and-books // @superspiritfestival // @chieflemming // @julemmaes // @lysandra-ghost-leopard // @firestarsandseneschals // @rapunzel1523 // @booksofthemoon // @fangirlprincess09 // @highladysith // @tillyrubes10 // @bri-loves-sunflowers // @rowaelinismyotp // @sheharahu // @1islessthan3books // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @vanzetanze // @foughtconquered // @acciowests // @cassianscool // @thegreyj // @story-scribbler // @jesstargaryenqueen // @amoretheiwa // @jorjy-jo // @danibutterr @live-the-fangirl-life // @foreverfallingforthestars // @pastasiren // @whimsicallyreading // @infernoqueen19 // @mis-lil-red // @lemonade-coolattas // @realbookloverproblems // @ghostlyrose2 // @rainbowcheetah512 // @bri-loves-sunflowers // @captain-swan-is-endgame // @mystic-bibliophile // @cretaceous-therapod // @swankii-art-teacher // @thisloveseternal // @gracie-rosee // @goddess-aelin // @liars-lmao // @emily-gsh // @rowaelinrambling // @bookcide //

#elorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #elide x lorcan #post-canon #hurt/comfort #tog #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #fanfiction #yrene towers #yrene westfall

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seeds-and-sins · 3 years

Text

Right Time, Wrong Place.

Pairing: John Seed x Reader

Rating: M (SMUT!! & Language)

Description: You take over John Seed’s ranch, have some me time in his bed, only to find that he was watching the whole thing on his secret security cameras.

Tagged: @ivyluv

You had wanted revenge and you were determined to get it. It was as simple as that. Granted capturing John Seed's Ranch was just another box ticked for the resistance effort's chances of winning back Hope County, but for you? it was personal. The man stuffed you in a chair, tortured your best friend, and threatened to cut into your skin. To make matters worse, he looked like a whole damn meal while doing it. Speaking to you in that sinfully deep and rumbling tone that made you wet beyond imagine. Fuck that son of a bitch. Whoever stuffs you in a chair, tortures your friend, and threatens to cut you, loses their ranch. That's the deal, and it's final.

His response:

So. You've taken my home in the name of your little "Resistance." Ah, if those walls could talk... well, more accurately scream... Just know that I will get it back - sooner or later. And when I do, maybe I'll hang your skin as a trophy above the mantle.

You raided John's secret wine cellar later that day, laughing your ass off over the recollection of irritation in John's voice. All it took was a little push to send the man snapping into rage and oblivion.

You invaded all of John's privacy; following the wine cellar, came his office, following the office, came his kitchen, and then his own room. Everything was so neat and organized, the man didn't have one thing out of place. It was a testament in comparison to his unruly image when he would lose a few screws in agitation. His clothes were folded to perfection, placed into his drawers by color, style, or brand. For the clothes that weren't in his drawers, they were in his walk in closet; Gucci, Calvin Klein, Tom Ford O'Conner, and Brioni. The man was a walking advertisement, from his sunglasses to his shoes. You were certain that the outfit you had seen him in last costed about the same as your car in total. And now you had full access to everything...

"What the FUCK is she doing?!" John fumed, pacing back and forth in front of security monitors that lined the wall of his bunker office.

"Sir, we are doing everything we can-"

"Get out!" He demanded, bloodshot eyes settling on the screen, sweat beading down his forehead, as he watched you demolish his personal space. The bunker door shut behind him with an audible plank and he sunk back into a leather seat with a sigh of exasperation. You were driving him absolutely crazy: waltzing around his home as if it was your own, with his most expensive bottle of chardonnay no less.

You were throwing pictures off the walls, moving furniture around, and wrecking his entire wardrobe with your slimey fingers. He was under distress simply watching it all unfold before his eyes, the massacre, the trauma, his beloved ranch was being destroyed. What would Joseph think of him right now? So distraught over the material pleasures that he had collected for himself over the years. They were really all he had anymore, aside from his family and the project. You were disrespecting him, but it's not like you hadn't before. Countless times you had undermined him for the sake of your little act as hero, nothing he hadn't gotten used to these past few weeks. He enjoyed the game of cat and mouse, the playful chase, but this? This was personal...

*Uh yeah so, Sharky and I are having a big bonfire out by the henbane. Some of the others will be there, you coming?*

"No thanks, Hurk..." You replied with a proud smile on your lips, fiddling with the many cologne bottles that flooded John's dresser. "I think I'll stay here. I'm enjoying myself."

*Well, that's-* Hurk was interrupted on the other end by the familiar voice of a pyromaniac on steroids. *Is that the deputy?! Tell her to get her ass over here, now, so we can start this party.* There was minor shuffling on the other end, the radio clicked out a few times as if it was being wrestled for. *Give it, man!-Stop that!* You chuckled at the image of Hurk and Sharky fighting over a walkie talkie in the middle of the batshit woods. You laughed at what Hurk Sr. was probably thinking of the whole ordeal as he watched from his porch.

"Alright boys, well, I'm staying here for the night so, catch ya' later." You immediately switched the frequency, dropping it down onto the dresser. You collected the bottle of wine you had discarded in John's wardrobe, taking long gulps of it as you took note of his belongings. The entire place smelled like him, you had only caught a whiff when he was devastatingly close to when you were captive, but it was enough to recognize the hints of sharp Dior, new shoes, and rose. The man was a sin in the flesh and he knew it all too well, recruiting to the cult hundreds of people that most certainly lusted after him in private. He would have had a hold on you if he hadn't had been pressing a scalpel to your throat, or sending off a bunch of red flags with that psychotic glimmer in his eyes.

You could imagine though, fuel your darkest desires and daydreams as you stormed his castle. The wine helped, you had gone through half of the bottle as you adventured and you were starting to feel its effects. In your dreams, John was your lover. He was still a lawyer with the same successful edge and fortune to boot. He wasn't a crazy lunatic, following a bunch of other crazy lunatics. He was a man that fought for true justice, just as you had. And now, you were waiting for him to come home. You nearly dropped the bottle in your intense reverie. You carried the bottle into John's giant bathroom, you placed it on the edge of the tub, and turned the water on.

The grime stuck to you from the days events; the mud had caked on, gunpowder dusting your face, and blisters, cuts and bruises, scattered across your body. For a moment, it brought you back into the harsh reality that you were in a war zone. That John was a dangerous man and that you were utilizing his home like some sort of fun house. You shook the thoughts of blood and violence from your mind, derobing yourself of the dirty clothes and weapons that hung from you. When the water was shallow enough, you turned it off, dropping one of John's assorted bath bombs into it and waiting a few seconds for the soap to take. You couldn't remember the last time you had taken a bath and John's bathtub was about the size of a hottub.

You were in the bliss, the warm water engulfed your aching muscles and damaged flesh without hesitation, welcoming you into a trance of tranquility and calm. No bullets. No explosions. No expectations. Just you and this bath. Your mind wandered again as you rested in the lapping liquid, dirt and all sorts of substances leaving you like a weight being lifted off your chest. You could fantasize about John again, get back into the dream world you had created for yourself as you explored his home-correction; As you waited for John Seed to come home from his job as Hope County's trustworthy, kind, and loving lawyer.

You lathered yourself with all sorts of special products that John kept perched on the tub's edge. You took fluid swigs from the nearly empty bottle of wine every now and again, until you decided you were clean enough. John could be home any minute after all. You stepped out of the tub, pulled the plug on the drain, and left the bathroom into the closet again. Not without what was left of the wine, of course. He would want to see you in something appealing on the eyes, something that would tease him and draw him in from a long day of exhausting work. You could massage his taut shoulders, fingers moving down over those rippling muscles.

You settled for an expensive silk blue button up, no need for underwear with no one around. The button up was slightly open at the top, not that you'd be expecting any company-aside from John, that was. You flicked the light off and the room cascaded in darkness, aside from the moonlight that drew in through the blinds. John would enjoy seeing you like this. You jumped onto the bed; so big and comfy. The pillows seemed to swallow you with their fluff, douvet and all, tracing along your curves and exposed thighs. You adjusted so that your head was propped back and you were comfy, legs parted as you closed your eyes and sunk further into the dream you had created.

If John was normal, he would be gentle and soft. He would run his fingers down you when he arrived upon your shared bedroom. He would whisper sweet nothings into your ear as his dirty hands came over every bit of flesh on your body. He would seek your pleasure first, attend to your needs and wants, because you would look, Oh, so sinful. It was almost like you could hear his voice in your mind. He wasn't yelling at you. He was whispering to you, begging for everything that your body could give him. He would praise you like the God he worshipped, settle on his prayer voice when he spoke to you and made the filthiest promises.

You want me to do this to you, don't you? Touch you like this? Spread you like this?

"Yes," You mewed, you wanted him so bad. "Please."

...

"Dear, sweet mother of-" John choked out, face nearly sinking straight through the computer screen and he leaned in as close as was possible. He was so close that the static was barely electrifying the thick hairs of his beard. "Fuck me." He was straining in his jeans watching you get so comfy in his home. He wished he could hear you, cursing himself for not having installed more advanced cameras, as Jacob had suggested months ago. Thank the lord, they were hidden from sight. Thank the lord, that he had the opportunity to see you so vulnerable.

He bit his bottom lip nervously. What would Joseph say? Giving into sin like a moth to the flame. His eyes flitted over to the walkie talkie that sat on the desk. It was begging to be used, begging for John to do something that was reckless and sinful and dirty and everything he could be punished for if he tried. He groaned as he watched your hand finally reach its destination, your eyelids fluttering shut as you rubbing gently along your folds. The black and grey could only give away so much in this darkness. The night vision feature only worked to such an extent. Even so, John couldn't tear his eyes away. You were in HIS bed, in HIS clothes, after taking a bath with products that smelled like HIM. You were practically his at this point. All his.

...

You were so close, thinking about John, about his fingers on you, about his cock inside of you, about his lips passing over every deeply intimate spot on your body. You could feel the edge coming for you, as his scent penetrated you, as you felt the silk of his shirt against your nipples. You cried out, so close.

"Oh, John, fuck." You were alone, filled with careless abandon, delving deeper into this madness that was him. You were a second away from the most explosive orgasm you had had in weeks.

*Deputy...* You paused, feeling a cold sweat fall over you at the coo. Your eyebrows furrowed as you sat up on your elbows, eyes landing on the discard walkie talkie that you had left behind on the dresser. You worried at your bottom lip in frustration. You were so fucking close. *I know you are there. Speak to me.* You should ignore him. But how could anyone ignore John when he sounded like that; desperate, disheveled, and hot. He sounded of so hot and sweet. You dropped back into the pillow with a grunt, thinking that you could turn the radio off and be through with these constant disturbances. *Please.* Desperate, disheveled, hot. So, hot.

In one swoop, you jumped off the bed and attained the radio. You drew it up to your lips with a huff, fists clenched from the sheer rage that was building in you.

"What the fuck do you want, John? If this isn't about the negotiated release of Hudson, then I don't want anything to do with you." You waited for John's response, as it was suddenly very quiet on his end. Usually he spoke more, teased you more, threatened you more. Heck, just earlier he said he would get you back.

*This isn't about that.* His tone was of venom and annoyance now, which only sought to make you more irritated.

"Then, I don't see there being any reason to continue talking with you."

*Wait!* He sounded strained, as if she had broken him. *I can think of a few reasons.* Of course, he wants his house back. Poor fellow. You rushed and plopped back down onto the bed, a bright grin appearing on your lips.

"Oh John, Oh John," You taunted, feeling like you should run a victory lap for your achievement. Instead, you enveloped yourself in all of John's wealth and money. "Have I affected you in some kind of way?" Silence. "Little ole'me, in your home, all comfy in your bed, using your things. Sounds like I have gotten to you." The strangled groan that was relayed over the radio went straight between your legs. You had heard John groan out his irritation before and although this sounded slightly different, you hadn't thought anything of it. It wouldn't hurt to continue what you were doing before John's interruption. God knows you were still so close, thinking about him. He didn't need to know.

*You must have it all wrong, Deputy. The idea of you taking pleasure in my belongings brings a smile to my face.* The playful back and forth was a favorite of yours, you wouldn't lie. You never quite had the same interactions as you did with Jacob and Faith, both of whom would often ignore your jests completely. John reacted, he would give you his utter attention everytime you entered his region. You bathed in that sort of acknowledgement. You were now on the path of admitting that it kind of got you off; hearing his frustrations, hearing him coo, hearing him reciprocate every remark you gave him.

He liked it too. You knew he liked it.

"I'm such a bad sinner, aren't I?" You closed your eyes, free hand now coming down to the place you needed it most. A new fantasy had taken root, of John pleasuring himself as he spoke to you, getting off on your voice, off on his fantasies of you. On any other night, you couldn't imagine him breaking Joseph's rules to do such a thing. But tonight you wanted to imagine everything about John. He would be fisting his cock to the sound of you disobeying him at every turn, speaking into the radio, every word you spoke he clung to like a last breath. Tonight, you imagined him doing this: being sinful and breaking the rules in your honor. He would be relieving the tension that plagued you both for so long in his mind. He was no longer the sweet and gentle husband, coming home from work. He was the filthy, dirty, lusty lawyer that was your enemy; grasping for a chance to get you alone, so he could have you to himself.

*I should punish you...* You moaned at the pit of your throat, making sure he couldn't hear by removing your finger from the button. You were going to cum to the sound of John's voice and he didn't even know it. It was mildly empowering, feverish, and naughty, all at the same time. *I should tie you down and make you pay for all the wrongs you've committed. Make you confess all of your deepest, darkest secrets.*

"Oh, fuck." You heaved out, not having expected him to blindly play into this raunchy game of yours. The image of him, drowning in your conversations over the radio, as he milked his thick cock, flooded your mind. His button-up would be fully undone to reveal the mess of sweaty abs and tattoos across his torso. His hair would be falling out of its gelled, angelic perfection as strands drifted across his half-lidded eyes. The veins in his forearms would be bulging as he utilized his strength to work at the stress you caused him, in the form of a hard erection. You swore you heard him release some sort of sound from the other side of the radio. You hadn't quite been in the right state of mind to respond, but you were desperate to keep him talking.

"Tell me, John. You make all these promises and you don't keep them." You hadn't expected your words to come out so smoothly, what with your fingers now penetrating you just the way you liked. "If you wanted to punish me so bad, tie me down and make me confess, then you'd have me right this very second."

*I could, Deputy.* He shot out, all breathless and choppy. It only made your imagination run even wilder, that he might be doing what you were thinking he would doing. But he couldn't really be doing that, could he? *All I need to do is say one word and I can have you yanked from my bed in no time.* The thought of him sending in a team to come fetch you was about to do you in. The though of him wasting resources, time and energy, all so that he could alleviate his personal desires. You were about to cum so hard for him, so hard just by listening to his every word. You thought it was over, like his radio would go silent and that would be the end of it all. *But I much prefer it this way...* There was a hint of something deeply sinister in the low growl he spoke in. You wanted more of it, more of him. Your back arched up, and your finger slid over the button unbeknownst to you. He could hear the spill of moans and cries that were building up to the ultimate fall over the peak you had been climbing toward. And then he kept talking. *Seeing you all spread out for me, wearing my shirt, pleasing yourself to the thought of me fucking you into that mattress. Oh-ho-ho, Deputy~ You are so beautiful, when you are vulnerable.* He moaned each word with promise. You could hardly hear him groaning and sputtering out curses over the radio as you came on your fingers. You hadn't yet truly realized the sincerity of his words and the trouble that came with them. You were so lost to pleasure and the ecstasy that flowed through your body. The images of John's cum falling onto his sweaty stomach as his body rose and fell with each painful breath. The thought of him losing himself to you in the night, as you spoke to one another, shrouded in darkness, with only yourselves to know of the sins that occurred.

You waited a few minutes, attempting to catch your breath and yourself, coming down from the high that your body had been craving for so long. It was only then, as you had once been blissfully ignorant of the gravity of your situation, that your body jolted up.

But I prefer it this way, seeing you all spread out for me, wearing my shirt, pleasing yourself to the thought of me fucking you into that mattress...

Oh shit. You fucked up. Your eyes nervously searched the room, even in the darkness, what was there to see. The radio still in hand, you sprinted into the closet and shoved yourself under a set of John's hanging clothes. What were you doing?! Oh shit! You need to run! You need to grab your clothes and your weapons and you need to get out of here. Quick! What did you do?! He saw everything.

Oh-ho-ho, Deputy. You are so beautiful, when you are vulnerable.

*Oh, Deputy~* He sung with a light chuckle lilting the edge of his name for you. You felt a stain in your chest, of embarrassment, of guilt, of a diminishing pride and self-esteem. *There's no reason to be so shy all of a sudden.* Your forehead hit the palm of your hand.

You needed to react, get the fuck out of dodge, never come to the valley ever again. Nick and Mary and the Pastor had control over the situation, you could just fucking disappear. Why don't you jump into a void? Never return to Hope County even. Just leave forever. Did they make spaceships for extremely scarred and embarrassed common folk who wanted to get the hell off earth? Note to self, ask Hurk if he knows any aliens that could catch you a ride to the nearest infinity away from here. Fuck yourself. Fuck this. Fuck.

You hadn't even realized that John was still talking.

*Because I like you so much, I will even consider this an official confession. Wrath AND Lust.* You could hear the sickening grin of satisfaction. *Who would have thought that my little Deputy was so...* You were so unbelievably fucked. *Sinful?* Gunshots started to sound nearby, coming from outside the ranch, where resistance fighters had gathered to guard the newly acquired outpost. *I know I'm asking too much of you, my darling.* Your jaw dropped at the kindred and sweet way in which he spot the new pet name. *Just rest for now. You must be exhausted from the day's events.* You needed to get out of here, but you couldn't bring yourself to move. You were frozen with a whole course of unsettling emotions. *It's not easy to carry the entirety of a pathetic resistance effort on your shoulders.* And he sounded so loving, so tender, you had never in a thousand years thought you would ever hear John speak to you in such a way. *Don't worry, I will be home shortly.*

Return to Prompts

#john seed x reader #reader #farcry 5 #faith seed #jacob seed #john seed #joseph seed #john seed's ranch #resistance #the project #edens gate #mutual pining

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redrobin-detective · 3 years

Text

Delayed Mourning

Going Angst Day 5: Death

_________________________________________

It was 3pm when there was a knock on Maddie Fenton’s door. She huffed and set down the meal she’d been working on. Of course the one day she had time to pre-plan a nice meal from her family was the day she’d get interrupted.

“Yes? May I help you?” Maddie asked, opening the door. She had expected a salesman. Possibly even a neighbor coming to complain, again, about the noise or the smells that came from Fentonworks. Instead she found a small woman who couldn’t have been much taller than 5 ft with dark brown hair tied up in a tight bun. She was wearing a sharp white shirt and suit jacket with a matching white skirt.

“Mrs. Fenton, hello,” the woman gave a polite little head nod. “I’m from the the Government Institute of Interdimensional Warfare though I hear the locals like to call us the Guys in White.” She said with a knowing smiling, “of course, as you know, it’s not only the guys who are interested in ghosts. May I come in?”

“Oh yes, hello,” Maddie blinked, opening the door to let the agent in. The petite woman stepped inside, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. Her small frame, her oversized glasses and soft nature seemed so at odds with the meatheads Maddie usually found in the GIW. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Perhaps,” the agent demurred. “It’s more there was something I wanted to inform you of. If you’re not too busy, may we sit down and talk? Your husband and children are not home.” Maddie thought that last statement was a bit odd, framed as a statement of fact rather than an inquiry but moved on.

“Yes, Jack’s out of town visiting a relative and my kids won’t be back for a little while,” Maddie said. “Let me just finish putting this roast together, I’m almost done. Can I get you anything? Water? Tea?”

“No, thank you,” The woman said quietly. “And please, continue while you’re doing. Let me give you a little bit of background.” The agent adjusted her large glasses with her tiny hands. “Let me introduce myself, you may call me Agent S. I work primarily out of Washington for the Institute but sometimes I am deployed on site for... special cases. And, as I’m sure you’re aware, your town is very special.”

“Now, as you may have noticed, I am not particularly built like the normal Institute agents you have probably come across. That is because I do not work in the field but behind the scene in Investigations. My job is study the history and happenings of hauntings and spectral entities.”

“Oh that sounds fascinating,” Maddie beamed as she finished with her final preps and put the roast in the over. She looked over her shoulder at Agent S while she washed her hands. “Jack and I dabble a bit in history and folklore but we’re more versed in the hard sciences of ghosts.”

“Yes, I’ve read some of your papers, you and your husband truly are the frontrunners in the field,” Agent S nodded. Maddie preened at the praise and sat down, delighted to have a sophisticated conversation with someone in her field who she wasn’t married to. If more of those GIW agents were like Agent S then Maddie would get along a lot better with them. “So, Maddie, may I call you Maddie? What date and time did your portal start working?”

“It was August 28th,” Maddie said proudly. “It didn’t work at first when we first plugged it in. I’m afraid I don’t have an exact time it started up as we weren’t here. Jack was convinced one of the electrical conduction pieces wasn’t fully connected and was preventing ectoplasmic distribution. We ended up driving 4 hours to Springfield and back for some specialty parts only to find the portal working when we returned.”

“I can help you there,” Agent S said with a soft smile reaching into her white briefcase and pulling out several thick folders. She laid them out gently on the table and Maddie was unnerved by some of the information: schematics of Fentonworks, past and present financial records, transcripts of public statements. Her shoulders tensed when she saw Jazz and Danny’s names on some of the files. “Toll camera captured your vehicle on the Jane Addams Memorial Tollway at exactly 1:26pm on August 28th. We can confirm you and your husband’s vehicle traveled to Springfield and back via video feeds and credit card statements at 10:45pm that same day and were therefore out of the city all day.”

Maddie suddenly felt very trapped by the woman’s sharp grey eyes as she plucked a piece of paper and pressed it towards Maddie.

“At 3:18pm, the majority of the residential power in town went out for a period of 2 and a half hours. The cause was determined to be from a massive power surge that blew out the transformer. You may recall being blamed for this outage given your history with previous outages but the news that you were out of town settled that argument. However, I was not convinced.” She pulled out another piece of paper and Maddie bristled to see it was a Casper High attendance sheet.

“Your daughter, Jasmine was at her final summer cram session which ran from 2pm until 5pm. I spoke to her tutors and she never left the whole time and, in fact, stayed late to help a fellow student work through her study materials. But what about your son?” Agent S asked with with a curious smile but her eyes belied the fact that she had her own answers.

“How dare you spy on my family, on my children,” Maddie hissed, crumpling one of the papers in her fist. “Get out of my house, I will sue the pants off of your organization for this invasion of privacy! Get out!”

“Now Maddie, don’t you want to know how your son started up your Portal?” Agent S asked coyly, that drew Maddie up short. Danny? No, he couldn’t have possibly. He had no interest in their work, in fact, now that she thought about it, Danny had been sick that day. Agent S pulled out a set of blueprints for the Fenton Portal. Some small component inside the Portal was circled.

“You left at approximately 1pm and your daughter presumably left not long after. Phone records indicate Daniel called both Tucker Foley and Samantha Manson. Your neighbor, Mrs. Benson, saw them coming into your house not long after but before the 3pm power outage which I was able to triangulate did in fact originate from your home.” Agent S tapped the circled part of the inner portal mechanisms. “Now did you happen to push the on button in the Portal before plugging it in?”

“On button?” Maddie asked with a dry mouth, overwhelmed by the amount of information being thrown her way. All she could think about was how Danny hadn’t seemed sick when they’d left that afternoon but had looked awful when they returned. Would he have really gone downstairs and messed with the Portal? Had he gotten hurt? Been contaminated down there? Images of Vlad’s sickly visage after his accident flowed through her head. She should have paid more attention but she’d been so excited about the Portal working...

“It’s right here in the blueprints you submitted to the patent office, buried under dozens of other hardware bits. Its small, such a little thing compared to all the moving parts required to open up a dimensional portal. Daniel was a bright boy, his middle school records prove it. A bright mind, friends to impress, no parents around to chastise him... I think you can see where I’m going with this.”

“No, no,” Maddie said, burying her hands in her hair. “No, I’m not. You’re saying -what? - that my teenage son turned on the Portal when we were gone? No, my Danny wouldn’t lie to me about that... Why wouldn’t he say anything?”

“I don’t blame him for not mentioned in because, if my hunch is correct, he was inside the Portal when it turned on, killing him instantly,” Agent S said with a carefully neutral face. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news but I’m afraid this haunting has gone on long enough.”

“My child is alive!” Maddie screeched, standing up in her chair. “Danny is alive and healthy and he is not a ghost!”

“I will admit the evidence of how he died is circumstantial but the fact that Danny Fenton is deceased is not.” Maddie fell back into her chair as he legs gave out underneath her.

She watched the agent put paper after paper in front of her and detailed all sorts of data about her son that Maddie, who lived in the same house as him, had missed. Unusually high ectosignatures picked up by GIW (and their own) detectors, Danny being spotted in some form before most ghost attacks, faked signatures of hers getting him out of nurses’ visits. Maddie barely felt alive herself as she stared at a red light camera photo of her baby sitting atop a light post late, late at night. His eyes were a toxic green color.

“I know this must be distressing as a mother but your child never left that basement, never attended high school and will never achieve his dream of working for NASA.” Agent S said with carefully measured sympathy as she gathered up her papers and put them back in her case. “But you are a brilliant scientist, unlike your husband, you should be able to look past your emotions and see that your child is gone and the ghost he left behind is dangerous.”

“My husband?” Maddie asked blankly, running a finger down Danny’s unnatural photograph.

“I approached Jack two days ago, mistakenly believing he would be the most understanding of you both. He refused to believe the evidence and was, in fact, going to warn your son’s ghost that we planned on taking him. He is safe but he presently being held at one of our facilities until the capture is complete.” Maddie should feel outraged at her husband’s kidnapping but all she could think about was the fact that her son was dead, dead, dead, killed by her own invention over a year ago and she never noticed. How could she not have noticed?

“Daniel’s ghost is extraordinary, not only able to pass as human so accurately for so long but immensely powerful. We need to make sure he doesn’t harm anyone else. Think of his friends who are probably being forced to aid him and keep his death quiet. Think of your husband, your daughter, living in the same house as a dangerous ghost.” Agent S dropped some of her professionalism and plucked the photo of Danny out of Maddie’s hands and replaced it with her own tiny hand.

“I know this is impossible thing to ask but I must do it anyway, will you help me capture what remains of Danny? There is a chance with his charade exposed, he will be able to move on and so will you. You have been wronged, Maddie. You have been denied the right to process and grieve your child by his own ghost. But a delayed mourning is better than none. Danny’s death is a tragedy but please don’t let it become someone else’s.”

“Maybe he’s not-” Maddie’s breath hitched, “he’s never shown any signs of aggression. Jasmine spoke of benevolent spirits... maybe-” Agent S sighed roughly and retracted her hand to grab another photo from her case. Maddie was surprised when she held up a picture of Phantom.

“Ignore the glow,” Agent S instructed. “Change his white hair to black, his green eyes to blue. Think of how often Phantom is spotted in your neighborhood, around Casper High. Remember how he always has his hands on your technology,” the agent frowned. “Think of how he grins when he sees you, like he knows something you don’t. Like it all just a big joke you’re not a part of.” Maddie felt like she’d been slapped.

“Your son is dead,” Agent S said more forcefully, throwing the picture of Phantom next to the spooky one of Danny. “And his ghost has taken his place, taunting you, stealing energy from your family, from the portal that killed him. Phantom’s power is increasing too rapidly and soon we won’t be able to contain him. It’s why I was brought in to identify his haunt so that he could be stopped before anyone else died.”

“I will state this plainly, I am giving you the chance to participate in putting your child to rest but you are not required for this operation. If you refuse, you will be confined with your husband until Phantom is taken down. Do not let this monster with your son’s face trick you any more. So I ask again, Maddie Fenton, will you help us stop Phantom from making a mockery of your son’s memory?”

XxX

“Mom! Jazz! I’m home!” Danny announced, kicking off his shoes and grabbing a paper out of his backpack as he walked into the kitchen with a grin. “And I have a present! Jazz’s tutoring paid off, look at this A I got on my history test! Well A- but a solid A-!”

“Oh... that’s great,” Mom muttered quietly. She was sitting at the kitchen table, not cooking or tinkering with some gadget. Just sitting there quietly, twiddling her thumbs and not looking at him.

“Is everyone okay?” Danny asked, dropping his bag on the floor and walking over to his mother. “I saw Jazz at school but is Dad okay?”

“No, everything is not okay,” she said turning and looking at him with tear-filled eyes. “Someone died, someone I love dearly and I’m not ready to let them go,” she sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “But they've been gone for a long time, even if I’m just hearing about it now. I’m upset but it’s better to know and be grieve than to go on in ignorance, living a lie.”

Danny was about to ask who had died when something was jammed into his neck and he was shocked within an inch of his half life. His body spasmed to escape but his mother was gripping his arm to hold him in place. He transformed unconsciously but that only made it worse. He fell to the floor, ectoplasm leaking off his form as he could barely hold himself together.

“Mom,” he croaked, reaching for her despite everything. She stomped on his hand which was practically goo from such a vicious, destabilizing ectoplasmic shock.

“Don’t you ever call me that,” she hissed through angry tears. “I didn’t want to believe it but the proof is right in front of me you horrible, selfish ghost.” She kicked him in the side and half of him ended up on her boot. “How dare you, how dare you impersonate my son! How dare you string me along all this time, make me look like a fool who had to told that her own child was dead! I bet you just laughed and laughed at our stupid, human ignorance of what your were!”

“‘lease,” he begged through the ectoplasm in his mouth. “I’m still your....”

“My son is dead and he has been for a while,” Mom said, throwing the ecto-taser away from her. Danny vaguely heard the door being kicked in and in his rapidly diminishing vision, he saw black boots and white suits. “With you gone, I can finally come to terms with it and not be tormented by an inadequate replacement.” She turned her back to him. “Get that filth out of my house, I never want to see it again.”

“Of course,” a quiet feminine voice said as his goopy arms were restrained with ghost proof cuffs. “I know this is hard, Maddie but you made the right choice for your family and Danny’s memory. Jack will returned to you within the hour. I spoke to my superiors, for your cooperation, the Institute will take care of declaring Danny dead as well as covering costs for your boy to be laid to rest, the first step in moving on.”

“No, the first step will be removing that duplicitous monster from my home. It’s stolen enough of my baby’s life. Now please leave, I have - I have a funeral to plan.”

#going angst week 2021 #*jazz hands* I uh finally contributed #this is another interesting thing that just sorta happened #I was actually rereading and writing more for Side Effects when I realized that someone could follow the paper trail of the accident #which led me to a tiny lil GIW Investigator who blew Dannys secret wide open #which *then* led me to the tragedy of Maddie learning of her child's 'death' second hand but over a year after a fact #there's something about delayed tragedy... thinking everythings ok only to learn it hasn't been for a while #Love Mads but btw her an Jack shes the one who seems the more likely to take offense to her son's ghost haunting his own life #to keep playing along and pretending to be alive #him secretly being Phantom was the final straw #Both pretending to be Danny then *teasing* her when he saw her as a ghost #(obviously thats not the case but Maddie believes was Made To Believe it was)#Oh I wanted to strange Agent S this whole time typing #the blatant.... manipulation #Maddie may feel free to grieve now but her child's torment was only beginning #haha good times see ya

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foreverlostindreams · 3 years

Text

Don’t ever dump me again

Friends. That's the reason Kol invited you here, because you were ‘friends’. He seemed to be lacking any more of those, or he would not drag you out every time he wanted to go for a drink, just to be distracted by any pretty neck walking past. And while you were glad that you had moved on from being on the menu, to being an, at least right now, treasured witchy help for the Mikaelson, you could definitely go without another evening spent alone in a bar, he chose for the two of you ‘to have fun’. You didn't have fun. Who would getting basically dumped every other night? It was not the best thing for your ego, so you ordered another drink.

It was just your luck, that sitting alone at a bar like this one seemed to attracted all kinds of other lonely or wishful guests of even that bar to try their best of getting closer to you. The stool next to you was still empty, but when the bartender brought you another drink, shortly after your ordered one, you knew that was going to end very quickly. The sound of dragging wood on wood seconds later proved you right and then you saw the guy appearing in the corner of your left eye.

He was not as dubious and off-putting as the other ones you usually attracted in establishments Kol dragged you to, but you also did not get a good vibe from him right away.

A good half an hour and a few drinks later you had warmed up to him though. No supernatural about him at all, right now a fat plus on your chart and just a lot of charming talk about college and annoying friends, just what you needed. You had started college before getting sucked into all the Mikaelson mess and even though you had not liked it there a single bit, compared to some of the things you did now, hell did you miss it. He seemed to have a slight intention of getting you tipsy, based on how fast he ordered you new drinks, when yours got empty, but you knew how to handle your liquor and based on the fact, that Kol in average would take another half an hour before he would get back to get you, you were just fine with how it was.

That was before the next drink hit you very differently. Your head was spinning instantly and you could feel your balance going off. Roofies, oh for fucks sake. You stumbled off your stool trying to get away from him, but your body was not cooperating very much. When he got up as well, playing the perfect help and no word of protest that you were trying to form would leave your lips, you started to feel a slight panic creeping up. There was no witchy power protecting you from this or reversing it, definitely not while you were in this state. God, you were so stupid. The first thing you learn in College, always watch your cup and don’t take drinks from strangers. Having spent so much time with vampires and angry werewolves, you had forgotten about all those mundane dangers. You could kick yourself.

Your thoughts were racing, when you felt the cold night wind on your face. He was getting you further and further away from the back alley or whatever kind of service room Kol, aka your only chance of help and his play thing were in, to everybody else you seemed like a drunk mess, that a friend was helping. “Km” you mumbled only to try directly again, with more force “Kom'' and again “Kol!”

Thank god you were not out with Elijah, you would have never gotten his name out, even though he probably would have not let it have come to this in the first place. But ones you had managed to get the name right once, you didn't stop, repeating it like a prayer. Hoping to get through the bar and street noise like this. Annoying him like he always would with you. When you heard a car door open next to you, full on panicking now, it mobiliced all the brain capacity you could manage “Kol, help!” you nearly screamed, as your legs finally failed in those heels under you and you fell against the car door, jamming the guys hand in the progress. You could hear him swear and then smell a very familiar smell in the next air breeze.

“I said have fun, Darling, not organize presents. But I’m not complaining.” He definitely did not know, when he could be funny and when not, you determined while trying to get safely to the ground to crawl away from the danger zone your ‘nice’ college dude had maneuvered himself into. You didn’t get to crawl through, you were picked up before that. The suit sleeves covering the arms in your vision did not seem like what Kol was dressed in the last time you saw him, but the voice you had heard was his. Trying to focus was getting more and more difficult you noticed and you felt your eyes getting heavier, before you felt something wet getting pressed to your lips. The first impulse was defence, but without much effect and when the copper taste hit your tongue you gave in. Vampire blood was probably your only chance now.

When the clouds started to lift off your mind and your own legs started to support your body again you let go and looked for the guy. You’d be damned if he would get away with this, but Kol had him good and scared to death, his hand still stuck in the car door. Now that couldn’t be good. On a second thought you turned around wide eyed before you realized it was Elijah who had helped you get the drugs out of your system. Where did he come from? They had promised you, they could not read minds. “I was trying to call you, to do a spell for Klaus, but you didn’t answer, so I was going to pick you up.” he offered you an answer, before you could even ask. An oppressed scream reached your ears distracting you again.

“Don’t kill him!” you scolded Kol, trying to get closer only to realise that vampire blood might have helped, but you were not yet your balanced and stable self. “Oh come on Darling! You can not still feel sorry for him. He was not going to take you on a picnic” he shot back dramatically “I know” I hissed at him and instantly regretted it, when his grin got wider again “Oh, so you want the honor?” “No” okay, maybe a bit and you got the chance earlier than expected because the idiot really did try to make his escape in just that moment. The force with which you smashed him into the ground before he did his second step and one of the other two men made a move was entirely because of the drugs, of course.

Pinning him like this you looked back at Kol “I want you to compel him to go to the next police department, demand to speak to a female officer and confess to her about every woman he ever did this to. And about the place where he gets the drugs, if he knows about any other guy doing it. Absolutely everything” “You are no fun” Kol complained “I am in this situation, because you fucking idiot always want to have fun, drag me along and then dump me at the bar. My liver is probably going to get me in an early grave, all because of you” You went off on him and could feel Elijah's disapproving look shooting over your head at his little brother. “Are you saying, you never had fun with me?” He really seemed insulted, what did he expect? “Like I say, you always disappear and the bars you choose are not known for it’s amazing clientele, but it’s the only escape I get from the third brother in your family, that would like to see me work on something for him every waking minute of the day, so i tag along.”

“Ready to go home?” Elijah asked then and offered you his arm, like the perfect gentleman he was “Kol, you got this?” he asked in a totally different kind of voice, while leading me to the passenger seat of his car. How had you not noticed he seemingly hit the brakes and parked directly behind you and the idiots car? “We are not done talking about this Darling!” “Oh, I so am. I will not discuss anything with any of you anymore today. I will not do any spells. I will just go to bed and sleep for a day or two. Maybe wake up in a life, where mine is not so out of control” A girl could dream.

Of course, you were back at breakfast the next morning already reading the grimoire Klaus had gotten in ways you didn’t want to know anything about. He had not complained to you about the time he had lost last night, but you were sure he spent the whole time you were asleep doing it to Elijah, who had put his food down about your need to sleep, also citing that trying a difficult spell with a halfway drugged witch was not their best chance. You were also sure Kol had heard his bit about letting it get to that.

Just when thinking of the devil, he slipped into the stool to your left, looking disapproving on your cornflakes. “That was how my last evening turned from bad to catastrophic” you commented on his move without looking up from the page. “You really did not enjoy a single evening?” Was his pride honestly hurt about that aspect? “Nop” “I thought you were! I thought, that was what you wanted, a way out of this house and not see a single vampire for ones, that's what you had said'' In that moment the penny dropped in your mind. You had said that! A little over a month ago, the day after Kol had arrived back here, when Klaus had had one of his days and Elijah was not on your side the way you had wanted him to, you had stormed off slamming doors and screaming your frustration out with those words. The day after, Kol had asked you to a bar for the first time.

You looked at him, checking for signs that he might prank you, but he looked genuine. You took a deep breath “Okay, let's start again. Hi, my name is Y/N. Your family drives me insane, sometimes I need a timeout from that, but I still do not like to be dumped in shitty bars, when asked out.” Kol took your offered hand “Well then, Miss Y/N. I will remember that. Would you like to accompany me to a better bar tomorrow evening, to redeem myself as good company?” “That sound not bad at all” He grinned back at you and then got up. “By the way darling, I would not eat that, it smells bad.” “Shut up Kol, better be worried, if you ever dump me again!” You could hear his laugh, even when he left the room.

#kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson x reader #kol mikaelson x you #kol mikaelson imagine #elijah mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #witch reader #the vampire diaries #the originals #the originals imagine

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drmedicsgamesurgery · 3 years

Text

Danganronpa Kirigiri Volume 2 Full Translation Part 1

Thanks to DJ Shocker, Shenmen, Chilly, LiarieCC, and Blackflirtlarping. This is a fully fixed up and complete translation with no missing bits.

Danganronpa Kirigiri Volume 2: The Norman Hotel Detective Auction

Chapter 1: Daily Life

Couples dressed to the nines for Christmas Eve wined and dined in window booths, but due to the height of the building, no matter how much I craned my neck I couldn’t see them satisfactorily.

I must have gotten a little carried away, bouncing around the hall to eagerly check out the outside scenery from the windows of this high-rise building, as I felt someone tug on the sleeve of my coat; Kyoko Kirigiri. She gazed up at me, wordlessly, with cool eyes. I felt almost as if I was being scolded.

“Thank you for waiting! Please come this way.” Both Kirigiri and I followed a waiter into the interior of the hall. Suddenly, an enormous Christmas Tree came into view. A fir tree that must have been imported from abroad, decked out in dazzling star ornaments that were determined not to lose to the lights of the city in terms of brightness.

We found ourselves being led to a wide individual room.

An antique candle holder stood in the center of a table draped in a white cloth, the candles fully aglow.

Napkins and cutlery for three people were already laid out on the table. And the furthest wall was transparent, giving us a scenic view of the city nightscape.

“Woww! This is amazing!” I dashed over to the glass wall without thinking, and gazed out at the city lights twinkling under the night sky.

“Kirigiri, come here!” I called out to Kirigiri, who stood behind me. She seemed to be hesitating. She looked at me with a slightly concerned expression on her face, then approached the giant window. She looked over the city nightscape with pink tinged cheeks, seemingly unable to tear her eyes away from the lights of the city.

“Isn’t it pretty?”

Kirigiri nodded.

“Won’t you tell me how you really feel, out loud?”

“…It’s pretty.”

At this point, Suisei Nanamura entered our private room.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, ladies. I see you’re enjoying my Christmas present to you.”

By ‘present’ did he mean this view?

I suddenly felt a little embarrassed at taking the bait so quickly and backed away from the glass wall, flustered.

Suisei pulled out a chair with a gesture that made it seem like this was something he was well accustomed to. I lowered my head to him in a quick bow and took a seat. I really wasn’t used to how to act in a place as fancy as this.

On the other hand, Kirigiri seemed used to it. She lowered herself onto the chair, almost princess-like, and gave Suisei a casual nod as her thanks.

Kirigiri continued to surprise me, but I think she was essentially a refined and well-mannered kid. When it came to being a detective and solving cases she became cool-headed and almost difficult to approach, but I wondered if that had something to do with being raised in a family of detectives.

Suisei placed the Santa hat he’d been wearing on Kirigiri’s head and sat down opposite her. He didn’t offer any explanation as to why he’d given her the Santa hat, and Kirigiri herself didn’t react.

Well, she looked cute like that so I had no complaints…

“Well, I am a happy man! Having the honor of spending Christmas Eve with such beautiful young ladies…”

After sitting down, Suisei propped both elbows onto the table and rested his chin on top of his hands, suddenly observing us intensely.

I was bewildered by the suggestive look in his eyes.

“W-what ?”

I suddenly found myself feeling very shy.

Suisei had a face as handsome as an actor - he was an attractive man. I had absolutely no objections to joining him for Christmas dinner-

‘“2,000, 9,800, 23,000.” Suisei suddenly rattled off a series of mysterious digits.

“Huh?”

“The price of your glasses, the price of your coat, and the price of your boots.”

“W-what…? How did you…?”

He knew?

The numbers were more or less correct.

“There are many ways to observe other people, and one of the most effective ways is to judge them by the value of what they’re wearing. Through knowing the value of their material possessions - in other words, their quality - is not a method to be overlooked.”

“I - I see."

“Yui Samidare-kun - for example, in your case you’re confident about your legs, so your most valuable possession is your boots. However, from the way your boots are worn down, they don’t seem to be specifically designed for sports. And you’ve chosen to walk down the path of becoming a detective. Aiming to become a detective at such a young age is probably due to something that happened in your past-”

“O-okay, I got it.”

I put both hands up in front of me, as if to evade Suisei’s words. I don’t think I wanted to hear anything else he had to say.

Suisei’s lips curled into a grin and he spread out his arms while gesturing at the clear glass wall.

“7,445,000 yen. The price of everything you can see from here. Along with the price of electricity for every building. The true essence of everything is so beautiful.”

Suisei gave me a smug wink.

Detectives were really hard to understand.

Suisei Nanamura was a Double Zero Class detective. According to the DSC (Detective Shelf Collection) at the Detective Library, his number was 900. The number nine indicated that he dealt primarily with murder investigations, and his double zero was proof of his skills.

In the past there was a detective who, due to the successful handling of his cases, moved up as far as rank three, but that took over 20 years of his career. For Nanamura to hold a double zero at the young age of 37 was, quite simply, incredible. It was not an honor you earned with half-hearted skills.

“Well then, let’s continue talking about the job over dinner.”

Suisei snapped his fingers, and from behind him a waiter appeared to fill his glass with red wine. Two more waiters also appeared by his side as if they were servants attending to a prince.

Since Kirigiri and I were still underage, we were passed a soft drink menu. I chose orange juice, and Kirigiri ordered a coffee.

“Let’s toast to our first meeting - is what I’d like to say, but allow me to refrain. After all, in our world a toast doesn’t signify the start of something, but the end.”

Suisei took a sip of his red wine.

The waiters began to lay out plates in front of Suisei. Usually when it came to French cuisine, every dish was served one by one, but for some reason they continued to pile dish after dish in front of him.

“10 hours, 28 minutes and 49 seconds.” Suisei suddenly rattled off another series of digits.

“That is the time that’s passed since I opened the letter challenging me to this Duel Noir. The time limit from when you open such a letter to who is victorious being decided is 168 hours. For my own sake, I opened the letter at exactly 10 am today.”

Suisei said with a serious expression on his face. However, he hadn’t stopped eating. It occurred to me that most of the food had already disappeared from his plate.

When did he…?

One plate each was placed in front of Kirigiri and me. If we tried to match Suisei’s pace, the food would be devoured before we could even enjoy it.

“Mr Nanamura, how many Duel Noir challenges have you participated in up until now?”

“This would be the fifth time.”

“The f-fifth time?”

“I can only call it bad luck. Out of all the detectives I know, there’s some who’ve never even heard of Duel Noirs. In fact, it’s more likely a detective will hear of Duel Noirs.”

Naturally, Kirigiri and I knew what a Duel Noir was.

Just a little earlier, Kirigiri and I had been wrapped up in one. A Duel Noir was a game organized by an organization called The Victims Catharsis Committee. Both a detective and a criminal engage in a deadly duel. After receiving a letter of challenge from a criminal, the detective will attempt to solve a case in real time.

Unlike what their name suggested, The Victims Catharsis Committee wasn’t a charitable organization at all. Under the name of providing catharsis for victims of crime, the committee lured participants into their game. It seemed that when it came to recruiting ‘challengers’, they particularly aimed for those who were driven by a need for revenge. In other words, by using those who were willing to go as far as murder, the game unfolded.

The detectives, on the other hand, were chosen out of the names registered on the Detective Index at the Detective Library.

There were approximately 65,500 detectives registered on the list, and their names were public information. It was assumed that The Victims Catharsis Committee summoned detectives from this list according to the difficulty of each case. For this, a detective’s DSC number was used as reference.

“The further you move up in rank, the amount of detectives decreases. Statistically it becomes more likely for one to be challenged to a Duel Noir.” Nanamura placed his fork on top of his plate, wiped his mouth with a napkin, then suddenly threw them all behind his back. One of the waiters caught the plate while barely moving an inch. With the space he cleared from throwing away his plate, Nanamura placed his two fingers together on top of the table.

Suisei began to stare at Kirigiri and me as if he was observing us.

“I read your file about the case you solved, you two. It was a great case for your induction.”

The Sirius Observatory was our induction case? And yet even now every time I remembered that day I felt a dreadful despair.

“However, the next one doesn’t seem to be so. Looking at the letter of challenge, the culprit seems to not only understand the aim of Duel Noirs far too well, but they also plan to win. That’s a troublesome attitude. Seems almost as if they’re enjoying the game. It’s probably a treat for the spectators as well.”

“Spectators?”

“Oh? You didn’t know? Duel Noirs are broadcast in real time. The spectators watch over them during what’s called a Closed Circuit, whilst eating and drinking together. You could call it a live-viewing.”

Speaking of which, didn’t the mastermind between the previous case say something along those lines?

The Victims Catharsis Committee didn’t just want to play a game - they wanted to offer a show.

“This is all pretty hard to believe. Who on earth would watch a Duel Noir?”

"I can’t tell you exactly who watches them, however there’s no doubt they move in high-class circles. In order to participate in a Closed Circuit, it’s said that the price is equivalent to that of the school fees from a third world country.”

What an incomprehensible and compassionless comparison. We can compare this to the duel in the arenas of Rome. People paid a lot of money to see blood and people killing each other. They want drama. Of course, I don't think I'd like to see that myself, people being killed so brutally.

“By the way, why are you after the Victims Catharsis Committee?" asked Suisei.

"We can't leave such an organization in the wild! " I said with a cry from the heart.

"A great sense of justice, huh?" smiled Suisei. He then turned to Kirigiri. "What about you?"

Kirigiri hesitated for a moment, "There is no reason. Honestly, I haven’t received another invite to do so. "

“Um, a-ah, w-wait we should really be united on this!” I turned to retort at Kyoko. “Wait, are you telling me you aren’t willing to fight the Victim’s Catharsis Committee!?”

“No, I’m just interested in having my detective skills recognized.”

“...Seriously, you’re only interested in moving up the ranks? Are you really satisfied with that? After being manipulated, aren’t you the least bit offended?”

“...I do.” Now that actually surprised me. Still, she was answering me in that usual expression of hers. She wasn’t quite good at showing off her feelings, or rather she has an incredible poker face.

"It's not right to hide your emotions behind a stone face, you know? So just try to deal with this organization with me! Isn't this a detective's job? That we aren’t just limited to dealing with immediate threats!?" I questioned.

"If Yui-oneesama wants me to help her, then I will."

"You're so childish!"

I chewed my lower lip to control my frustration.

"Don't you have your own opinion? Are you just a doll that we can control as we please?"

Kirigiri simply looked at me with cold eyes. Was she actually angry?

"A detective operating without a client is just fulfilling mere self-satisfaction." Kirigiri said before looking away.

"Maybe, but at least I’m making an effort to find out the truth." I suddenly got up. Weirdly, it reminded me of my childhood, and especially of my sister.

“Find the truth? What a childish response.”

“Says the actual child!”

After my sudden outburst, a sound echoed in the room. I looked at the source of the sound; Suisei was holding a mini trumpet. My ears began to ring.

“Alright, no fighting. Honestly, you’re like children. No wait, not even that, but rookies” Even so, from my point of view, he was much worse. He then threw the trumpet with a bitter laugh and a waiter caught it without problem.

"A detective is nothing without an ideology, especially not trustworthy. They’re also nothing if they’re too self-serving. I guess you two have at least one half of what it means to be a proper detective." said Suisei before shrugging.

Kirigiri and I looked at each other for a moment.

"Sorry I got carried away." I said as I sat back down, my face flushed from embarrassment. Kirigiri remained silent with her face being stoic.

"Well, let's go back to our history lesson," Suisei said, “Since my investigation into the Victims Catharsis Committee began, the amount of missing detectives had reached the double digits.”

“D-double digits?”

“Get what I’m saying? It means that the situation is getting increasingly difficult to back out from.”

“Is that what you got from this investigation into such a dangerous organization? If so, then that just means we need to hurry up and eliminate them!”

“Really brave of you, Yui Samidare. The detectives that disappeared would have said the same thing. These detectives were Double Zeroes, yet even they couldn’t shake this organization. It’s proof that this situation can’t be solved so easily. Say, did you know the Victims Catharsis Committee is registered as a non-profit organization? Complete with an office building, people can freely enter and exit.”

“Really? But then… what’s the matter?”

“The matter is that the only information that can be gathered is what they have open to the public. They spread detectives thin with so much useless information, while the real information is carefully concealed. If you want to hide leaves, put them in the forest. That good example is written in ‘Father Brown’. It’s a famous detective novel by G.K. Chesterton.”

“Then...what purpose does this group have? Is it to really treat the vengeance of others as some sort of program to watch?”

"From what I know, those who traced this organization before they disappeared seem to know there was a real purpose to that.”

“There’s a purpose?"

"The detective who told me about it is still missing, so maybe he knew the real purpose of the Victims Catharsis Committee, or..."

"Well, it definitely wasn’t for ‘Catharsis’."

"What is it from you, Yui? You refer to the Victims Catharsis Committee as evil."

"Isn't that natural? They kill innocent people."

"But both parties are often criminals, aren't they? You should know that if you've ever participated in a Duel Noir." Suisei challenged me. "They're trying to get revenge on someone who's made them suffer in the past, often from a crime."

In the past Duel Noir, the culprit of it, was trying to get revenge for his family that was murdered. He wanted to avenge them.

"Life has also taken away the criminal’s common sense." Kirigiri challenged as well. "They have decided to take revenge on the people who stole from them."

"In this world, there are people who live their normal lives without being judged for the mistakes they have made, while others live a miserable life in the depths of society. Life is simply unfair. Don't you think their behavior is normal?" asked Suisei.

"I can understand that feeling... but it's still unacceptable to turn to violence." I spoke back in retort.

“In the end, what you’re saying is only the opinion of one detective. There is only a thin line that separates justice from evil. For many people, the Duel Noir is a relief or a holy war. Some people think that challengers are rewarded only because of a necessary evil that can change the world.."

The Victims Catharsis Committee was a necessary evil?

Is that really the case?

"Even if there was another reason... when you're determined to kill people, and you

choose this path, I think you should be punished, no matter what the context is."

"You really are someone with a strong sense of justice." Suisei laughed softly. "But if the iron is twisted, it's very difficult to go back once it's done. A child like you can turn out to be the biggest threat."

"A threat..." Didn’t expect him to call me that.

“Don’t get too personally involved if you ever want to be married to an adult.” he said

"Don't let your feelings get in the way of your judgment, Yui-oneesama." warned Kirigiri. Well, I couldn't think of anything else to answer.

For a professional detective or for Kirigiri, hiding their emotions and not bringing their personal ideas into the business is very easy. I also think it is necessary. However, there's no reason to leave the Victims Catharsis Committee alone like that.

"Whatever the circumstances, I don't think it's time to change my mind about an

organization like this," I stretched my neck slightly, "No matter the context or despair, a normal human being has to control themselves."

“So what they said about youth being both a wound and a sharp knife was correct!”

“Mr. Nanamura! Do you really think the culprits of these Duel Noirs are innocent victims?”

"Yep, but in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t really matter to me." laughed Suisei as he answered without hesitation. "Innocent or not, as a detective, my true opponent is mystery. My existence is there to solve those that are right in front of me. Say, don’t you think it's more fun solving a mystery solo?"

“And so it turned into this…”

This was expected from a Double Zero. He really trusted his experience. "Do you really think I can forgive criminals? I'm not that naive," he said.

"I'm sorry I doubted you…”

“That’s quite alright!”

“Is there anything else we should know about the Victims Catharsis Committee?"

"I don't know anything else, but I heard another story from a single detective who had been the victim of a Duel Noir."

"Just one?"

"We call him the President, a man... I mean, they could be a woman, who is the brains of it all. Their identity is surrounded by a veil of mystery. One day they founded the Victims Catharsis Committee, a little less than 10 years ago."

"So they are the boss of the organization?"

If we could reveal the identity of the president, we would be able to charge the Victims Catharsis Committee as a criminal organization. The shadow that organization had casted was beginning to mold itself into a human figure.

"Who could be the president? Could he have been an ex-detective?" Kirigiri said abruptly.

Suisei raised an eyebrow, placing his elbow on the table to support his chin. "Why do you think that?"

"Duel Noir targets must organize an unsolvable crime and become guilty of a false incident. In fact, it means that the organization is able to cover up the real culprit in a case and keep it for a future game. Only a top-notch detective could do that." I spoke, and was rather surprised from what came out of my mouth. Wow, guess I was getting up there in being high level as well...

"That's right, you're absolutely correct." Kyoko nodded.

"However, if it is a high class detective who could find the real criminal very easily, he can survive their little adventure. As long as the rank is high enough, for example..." said Kirigiri, "The triple zero rank of the detective library counted four people in the past, but one of them disappeared from the records, perhaps they are the President we are after."

"This may be a consideration to be taken into account in order to identify the president of the organization." Applauded Suisei. "I'll skip the explanations, because to us, time is money. Kyoko Kirigiri, you seem to be able to follow me easily. "

"So, which detective was struck off the books?" Kirigiri asked.

"Unfortunately, I don't know." Replied Suisei, extending his arms. "When I registered in the detective library, there was nothing that could designate his identity, like most triple zeroes. All we know is that he's human. He was probably one of the first detectives in the library. If anyone knows anything, it must be a detective who handles gender cases. As far as I know, one of the founders was in this field."

Speaking of the founders, I heard that Kirigiri's grandfather is one of them. It doesn't look like he's registered, but... anyways, I might be thinking too much.

I was watching Kirigiri's reactions from the corner of my eye, but she didn't seem disturbed.

"If you're able to speculate that far, why can't anyone find him?"

Suisei took a knife & fork and raised his arms up. "It's because everything is speculation. If one of the old triple zeros turned out to be the president, it would be a shock."

"Why?" I asked

"There is a difference between time, money or talent. That's the difference between us and the Triple Zeros. If they turn out to be criminals, it will have a big impact on the rest of us and our reputations. It's not a joke- it's a fact - and it's not an easily by-passable problem. It's an undeniable defeat." Suisei said.

For me to be a Double Zero was already above the clouds, so if someone with a lot of pride like Suisei said that... then maybe I should at least admit that I wanted to fight much harder than I already was.

"There's only one way to get closer to the Victims Catharsis Committee," said Suisei. "It's to capture the challenger, the murderer. They are in direct contact and receive private information. But then again you'll need to know the identity of the murderer. However, if we can do it, it would be a big step. Do you understand?"

"Of course!" I exclaimed. "I wouldn't let a criminal win."

"That's a powerful mantra." Suisei got up from his chair and looked at his watch.

"What? Are you planning to leave?"

"We are eating, but time is running out, and time is money." Said Suisei, waving to the waiter. "Even if there wasn't a confirmation, it's still a Duel Noir. Are you sure you want to come?"

"Yes." I said without hesitation. Kyoko saw my face and also nodded.

“Then let’s discuss this Duel Noir, shall we?”

The culprit of the Duel Noir can get funds from the organization in order to purchase Techniques. These Techniques range from tactics to weapons and once their ‘deck’ is assembled what they chose will be on display in the letter to the detective.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A Message for the Detective

Heed the Cry of the Noir

Location — Norman Hotel — 80,000,000 yen

Weapon — Knife — 5,000,000 yen

Weapon — Revolver — 15,000,000 yen

Weapon — Hammer — 3,000,000 yen

Weapon — Rope — 3,000,000 yen

Weapon — Automobile — 10,000,000 yen

Trick — Locked Room — 100,000,000 yen

Trick — Disappearing Act — 100,000,000 yen

Other — Cash — 1,000,000,000 yen

Total cost — 1,316,000,000 yen

According to the above cost, the following detective is summoned — Suisei Nanamura.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It seems he's the detective to ask.

I felt a little overwhelmed when my eyes met Kirigiri's. This time, the person had accumulated several weapons and tricks. He could buy this from the organization, the price being marked on the letter.

The higher the price and difficulty, the higher the rank of the detective. "I'll tell you the most important things first," said Suisei, taking the bag a waiter had handed to him. He put the letter back inside and closed it.

"In a Duel Noir, there is a rule that says the criminal cannot kill the detective in charge of investigating. It's because there's no game when the detective's not there. The detective is always asked for through a letter. If you're not the detective, you're just a secondary companion. So it could be that the culprit is one of the victims, even if they're dead. You could die." His voice suddenly resounded. "Me and the others, if you think about it, are jumping into the criminal’s trap. It may indeed be that if we apply ourselves to all this, you won't get out of it unscathed and wind up a victim."

“A...victim?” Those unexpected words made my voice change.

We would need to think about this carefully….

If we get in the way of the culprit, we could die.

“Are you scared?” said Suisei

"I... think I'll be fine." I lied to myself.

In contrast, Kyoko looked quite calm and gave a nod of her head.

"For the criminal to win, they must kill their enemy to get revenge on them, and last 168 hours without being discovered by the detective. If you win the "Duel Noir." You win the amount of money spent on the game. For a criminal wanting to start a new life, that's a good motivation." He said.

“That...sounds like such a desperate situation to wind up in.”

"Exactly. They can put everything aside, including their past, and have a normal life if they wish. On the other hand, if the detective manages to find out who the culprit is, they will have to refund the money they spent on the game. If they cannot pay with money, they will have to pay with their life. In tune, I will do the same and fight with my life.”

In short, it is a game of life and death for our enemy. To stay alive, they're going to do everything they can to not get caught. But I'm not going to be beaten. I became a detective to answer the call for help. If you want to bring justice as a detective, you have to put your life aside. That's the purpose of a detective. As such, I have no qualms about risking it all and even giving up my own life for it all. In contrast, Kyoko was a detective by nature with no sense of purpose outside of the profession. She was involved in this career since she was so young, and is now about to become a detective machine, utterly incapable of feeling death.

But, no matter how much detective work was installed in her, she was still a junior high school girl still starting out.

"The Duel Noir does not always take place in closed areas. However, as this limits the movement of detectives and drives the police back, these locations are often chosen. The Norman Hotel, which was chosen for this game, is an old abandoned hotel in the mountains. It will be very far from the city. We cannot afford to neglect the preparations. We’ll probably be there for at least 100 hours."

Suisei looked at his watch once again, and raised his hand to say goodbye.

"I have to go." Suisei began to leave, when he suddenly turned around, remembering something. "Oh, and let's confirm the schedules before that. I'll leave for the Norman Hotel the day after tomorrow, because there's something I absolutely have to do tomorrow. I will leave around 7am, and with the transport, I'll probably arrive around 10am. Is that okay for you? It's only one day, but..."

"Isn't there a time limit?"

"With my speed, we shouldn't be late. There's no problem."

“Oh...okay?”

"Let's pray for our victory!"

Suisei then headed for the exit of the private room, before diverting to the windows. He opened one of them. A strong wind rushed into the room. Suisei moved his legs to the other side of the window. "Good luck!" He gave us a thumbs up and jumped out of the window.

"Mr. Nanamura!" I quickly got up from my chair and rushed to the window that was still open. I then saw him slowly descend towards the illuminated city, a parachute deployed. The big sky-blue parachute added something to the beauty of the city. Were the high-ranking detectives all like this? I froze for a moment, watching the man slowly descend. The sound of cutlery made me return to my senses. A waiter came to close the window, blocking the wind.

"Well, let's continue this meal, even if we’re worried. D-day is only the day after tomorrow.”

"Yui-oneesama." said Kirigiri. "This could be our last Christmas."

"Don't say such a thing! Of course we won't be killed so easily! We'll have more Christmases after this!"

And I'll protect you. I couldn't get those words out of my throat. I could only superimpose

Kirigiri's possible death based on my little sister's... Because of that, I didn't even want to think about it. I didn't really trust Suisei. Moreover, if I let myself be trapped in my little sister's illusion, it could be annoying for the investigation. I forced myself to drop a "I'll do my best for the Duel Noir."

"I guess I don't have a choice if I want to improve my rank."

It's still my little sister's voice....

"Hey, Yui-oneesama." Kirigiri was young, but her voice sounded very adult. "We must survive the Duel Noir, no matter what happens there."

A waiter approached me, and gave me something that looked like a fine notebook. When I opened it, I discovered the dinner bill. 62248 yen.

“So Mr. Suisei Nanamura didn't pay?”

The waiter tilted his head and smiled to remind me of his presence. I checked my wallet but I only have two 2,000 yen bills on me.

“What’ll we do?” I whispered to Kirigiri: “That damn detective! His spectacular exits and entries show he has money, but likes to keep it!"

"Keep calm, Yui-oneesama." Kirigiri replied gently. She then took a card out of her wallet. "Can I pay at once?"

"Certainly." After settling everything, the waiter bowed and then left us alone.

"Kirigiri... you’re so cool..."

Once dinner was over, we left the building. Even if we moved as far away as possible, it was impossible not to see it. Lights that were almost blinding our eyes were emanating powerfully from across the city. I felt like I was in a paradise under the ocean, walking with Kirigiri. The Christmas lights were comforting, and a row of Christmas trees illuminated the faces of passers-by.

"Well, now that we're here... I can walk you home..." I said. Kirigiri remained silent for a moment, listening to the sounds of the night. She then turned around and started to walk away on her own.

"No need, it's too late anyways. I'll send you a message."

"But, alone at this hour..."

Kirigiri leaned her head and said to me over her shoulder: "Maybe if it was a foreign country, but there is nothing threatening on the roads of this country."

"But, if a man is attracted to young girls like you... he could do... that!"

I tried to attack her from behind, to grab her neck, but the next thing I knew, she was

gone. She then appeared behind me and put my arms behind my back.

“Ow, this hurts…”

"See? I can defend myself." She released my arm. “You need to be careful, Yui-oneesama. If you tried you could probably beat an older man with a high kick from those legs of yours.

"Be careful though, because if a man really wanted to attack you, you probably won't be up to it."

"Of course I will."

"Did you take a self-defense course?...And if possible can you teach me that trick too?"

"I'm going now." Kirigiri said as she looked at the street clock.

"Let's just go back together anyways, I want to talk a little more with you. It's quite boring, being alone."

Kirigiri frowned, creating a wrinkle on her forehead. She kept walking without looking at me. I ran up to her.

"We can keep talking about..."

"What, teaching you self-defense?"

"No, about the president of the Victims Catharsis Committee..."

"What's the matter?"

"He's a former detective, and one of the founders of the Detective Library... couldn't it be your grandfather?"

"It's very dramatic, but no, it's not him."

"How can you know that?" I asked.

"My grandfather was never registered in the library. He told me that before. He never became a triple zero, and it's not registered, so it couldn't be deleted."

But did her grandfather tell the truth?

"Are you sure he's not lying to you? A grandfather would never tell his granddaughter that he is the president of such an organization..."

"My grandfather is very proud to be a Kirigiri, more than anyone else in my family... He would never settle for being put in boxes like the library ranks. He was against the whole DSC classification system in the first place."

"Just pride?" I opposed. I've never heard of this family. She came from a detective

family, there was no doubt about it. She has these abilities at only 13 years old. Maybe she really comes from a big detective family and that blood flows through her veins, but I haven't seen any other detective react to the name 'Kirigiri'. Even Suisei, who was a double zero.

"I know what you're thinking. The Kirigiri family are good detectives, but we don't want to

be known. We live in the shadows. So the ordinary detectives don't know us. That's why my grandfather didn't register in the library, to protect the Kirigiri pride. We almost never talk about ourselves."

"It's an incredible story... but why did Kyoko-chan register in the library? Isn't that

against your family's principles? At least, according to your grandfather.”

"First, my grandfather technically lives abroad. So he doesn't fight crime from here. It is

impossible for him to be the president of a small organization located only in Japan."

"It's true that he's on another level... Sorry for doubting your grandfather, Kirigiri. Even

adults fight crimes like this anonymously, ignoring the opinion of the public and the government, but maybe he knows the president of the Victims Catharsis Committee? I mean, he was the 'president' of the library."

"I wonder about that, but there's nothing I can do about it."

"Maybe if you say your name, an official will recognize him. It's probably easier to sneak in discreetly."

"It doesn't matter. It'll always be the same thing; what do I do after that? How can I sue the president of such a non-profit organization?" Kirigiri looked troubled, and she moved her fingers closer to her face, as if to warm them with her breath.

"Whatever! Everything ends up being discovered! Like how Al Capone ended up being nabbed for tax fraud. There’s probably something that can be put on him. As long as we can stop the Duel Noir"

“Such an extreme line of justice, that’s no different than succumbing to evil.”

“Erk…”

"Yes, but being around all the time thinking about conspiracy theories will do worse than

better. For now, we should put the president's case aside. Let's try to clean up what's in front of us." I was really getting told by a girl who was younger than me.

That's right. We have already made good progress. Suisei Nanamura's Duel Noir had already started for 12 hours. We must remain calm. We'll think about how everything will go after we arrest the Duel Noir criminal... If we manage to get out of the hotel alive.

We continued to walk, our minds clouded with questions. Kirigiri suddenly stopped.

"What? What's the matter?"

"We have arrived." I looked up to see a huge traditional house, with a huge door. I had

trouble closing my mouth. The streetlights continued along the hill, and the white barriers extended far and wide

“Were there any houses like that left?” In this case, it was the largest traditional house I had ever seen. I watched Kirigiri, my eyes full of jealousy. Yes, she was definitely a lady.

"My curfew has already passed." Kirigiri said. "Fortunately you're not a man, because even for a detective, he would have been angry." Kirigiri seemed a little uncomfortable.

"If you had a curfew, you should have told me. We would have left sooner." I said.

"It's because I was talking to you that I'm late," Kirigiri replied, with cold eyes.

"Yes, it's because I've talked too much. I'm sorry, but I had to be absolutely sure what we discussed."

"If you say so."

“I’ll explain the situation, if that works?”

“That would help me quite a deal.” she said with a slightly softer tone than before. I felt rather pleased from it all.

Kirigiri walked to the large gate before stopping. The gate was made of wood, and I could only imagine the splinters that would be caught by touching it. It was still quite warm, but there were no signs, just an intercom.

"Aren't you coming home?”

“Only outsiders go through the front door. Family access is through the back.” She said as she walked along the wall.

“How… formal.”

The massive trees planted on the other side did not allow me to see behind the gate. It was difficult to see the majestic residence, but it was impossible to see a human presence. For someone who didn't know the place, the residence was a total mystery.

"Do you live with your grandfather or alone?

"It depends, but there are three maids. One person is always there."

“Servants, are you serious?”

Since the school we went to was full of young girls, it was not difficult to hear that some families hired maid servants so that they would not leave their daughter alone. One of these families was Kyoko's. She had neither her father nor her mother. I didn't have the details, so I didn't understand the situation well, but I easily understood that I shouldn't ask more questions.

"By the way, didn't you live abroad for a while?"

"Yes, with my grandfather. I stayed there for 5 years. Then I had to come back to this school, as I was already enrolled here," Kirigiri said. "It had to happen at some point. There's a small portal that allows easy access."

"My life is very different from yours."

"Really?" Kirigiri stoically replied.

We walked along the fence for a while, until Kirigiri pointed to a specific place. There was a small gate to make it easier to get in. She took the key out of her pocket, inserted it and turned the key. The gate opened easily.

“Eh? You had the key for this place on-hand?”

“The problem isn’t about me having the key. The problem is what to do afterwards.”

“Is sneaking to your room not on the table?”

“He’ll definitely catch me.”

"So what should I do?" I asked.

"Wait here, I'll call Grandpa."

"Okay, I'll wait."

"I'll be back soon."

"Oh, wait a minute!"

"What?"

"Wouldn't it be better if you took that hat off your head," I replied, pointing at the Santa's hat that was on her head. She pushed it slightly. I watched it fall at my feet. Kyoko looked rather surprised.

"What is it?"

"Didn't you notice?!" I picked up the hat and encouraged Kirigiri. "Hey, you better go."

"Oh, yeah." Kirigiri walked towards the door of the house. Once Kirigiri was out of sight, I put my hands in my pockets and leaned against the fence. It's unusual for Kirigiri to panic. Maybe her grandfather was that strict? Or maybe she really loves her grandfather. That must have been it. For her, who didn't have parents, it must have been difficult. I looked up to the sky, looking at the streetlights.

Suddenly, little white glitter began to fall from the sky. A white Christmas? On Christmas Eve I am often alone, wondering what I will do next year, and my anxiety overwhelms me. This year, I met a girl named Kirigiri Kyoko, whose presence really helped me. I no longer have this feeling of loneliness and emptiness. We're both detectives too. Will she be here again next year? I was imagining our future: two detectives always together. I didn't want a dark future, but wasn't that the fate of a detective?

"Yui-oneesama." I heard a voice. I saw that the large gate was open. I turned around to see Kirigiri, looking at me with concern.

"Where's your grandfather?" I walked away from the white barriers by redoing the button on my coat. I approached Kirigiri looking behind her, but there was no one there.

"You're the man who wants to seduce my Kyoko!”

The voice came from above my head. An old man wearing a kimono was on the wall. I only noticed it now? I stepped back before being pulled forward again, put on the ground. A short time before, I was quietly contemplating the sky. It was disturbing to see an old man jump off a wall that high. The old man's cane kept me on the ground. Was he really that strong?! He lifted it up to try and hit my head.

"Wait, it's not her! She's a woman!"

"What?" He pulled his cane away, lifted me up, and grabbed my chest. "What are you doing!" I shouted, clearing the man's hand. I jumped away.

"It's Yui-oneesama, the detective who goes to the same school as me."

"Oh, is that true?" he said, scratching his white hair. "Sorry, I heard Kyoko was going to eat with a boy, excuse me for the misunderstanding!"

Despite his white hair, he looked pretty young. His hair was shiny, his wrinkles discreet, he stood up straight and his eyes were shiny with life. He had a cane in his right hand, but his legs didn't seem weak. Maybe it was some kind of weapon for him.

"I'm glad to know that Kyoko has made a friend. Was it you who called?" he said with a smile. He looked like another person with that soft smile on his face. “You’re taking care of my granddaughter. I’m so embarrassed. She was always alone, and didn’t seem to be used to life here. I was getting worried. If she has a good partner like you, then I can relax. Right, Kyoko?” “Yes.”

"I'm sorry for delaying Kyoko and making her miss her curfew. She didn't seem familiar with life here, and I wanted to make sure she didn't get hurt."

Kirigiri was half hidden behind her grandfather's back. She seemed more comfortable than usual.

"We both talked about the incident, and it took a long time... I didn't know there was a curfew. Please, don’t punish her!"

“Heh, I always wondered who Kyoko would bring back to me. Anyways, don’t worry, there’s an exception to every rule. If it involves a detective case, I'm willing to forgive her. For the Kirigiri family, detective business is very important and comes first. Even death does not deviate from its purpose."

“O-oh, so…”

“If it was detective related, then that curfew crap can wait!” he said with a merry laugh.

Was that what Kirigiri's grandfather taught? It sure explained a lot...still, glad he wasn’t unreasonable. Honestly, when he knocked me down and groped my chest, I was expecting the worst. Still, from what I’m seeing, he’s a pretty agreeable guy. Though, perhaps, that could be just his love for Kyoko, spoiling her?

“Heh, thought I was a grouchy old man? It’s all over your face!”

“Erm, s-so sorry!”

“Like I said, when it comes to being a Kirigiri, being a detective goes past one’s family, even death itself. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Grandpa.”

"That’s my girl! If it is for a case and to see Kyoko become a first rate detective, than I suppose it's worth keeping the gate unlocked at night,”

"Really?" Kyoko asked in wonder.

"Of course, as long as you’re focused on your duty!”

"I'll do my best to be a good detective," Kirigiri replied, her eyes shining.

"Good girl." said the grandfather as he stroked Kirigiri's head. She and her grandfather seemed quite happy.

I felt a little uncomfortable in front of the stage, but I couldn't help but think it was cute.

"Uh, tomorrow we'll have to solve a Duel Noir case, so Kyoko will be spending the night somewhere else. O-Of course, I’ll also be there with her! Is that alright?”

"Of course!"

Well, it was easy... but sending his little girl without hesitation into such a case... He

didn't seem to be afraid of the death of his loved ones. Did he know a lot about the Duel Noirs? He must have heard about the Victims Catharsis Committee, thanks to Kyoko. He at least knows a little. Maybe he even knew more than we did. Such a great detective, who is also the founder of the Detective Library, necessarily knows more. I hesitated for a long time, not knowing if I should ask him or not. The man spoke again.

"Well, it's about time we head inside. You should go home too, Yui. It's cold tonight and you need to prepare to investigate. Shall I call a cab for you?"

“Oh, no, I’m fine.”

"It was a pleasure to meet you. Kyoko, you can see her off."

I slowly lowered my head, always thinking.

"May I ask you for another cho-..."

There was no old man left in front of me. I was looking around, but nothing... nowhere. He had disappeared. Completely missing.

"Yui-oneesama, maybe you should go home..." said Kirigiri, near the gate.

I hadn't noticed it, but I was tired. The tension and my heavy breath disappeared, and I could feel the fatigue falling on my shoulders.

"I'm sorry to have bothered you, Yui-oneesama."

"It's okay, I'd let an old man touch my chest if it's for you." I said, removing the dust from my coat. "But I didn't know your grandfather was so... focused on your education. Still, it's great he’s not so uptight. "

"Hey, Yui-oneesama?"

"Yes?"

“It’s weird to choose detective work over family, yes?”

“W-w-well, I w-wouldn’t call it strange, just… well, it does seem to involve a lack of caring about people’s feelings in the matter.“ I said after a good degree of thought.

“People’s feelings?”

“Are you asking because you have doubts over your detective work?”

"No, that’s not it. Anyway, what Grandpa said earlier, that detective work was more important than the death of a family member… don't you think it's strict?"

"Well, I find it stranger than strict, but I guess that's your family's opinion of detectives..."

"No, it's different. For my family, work is really more important than the death of a family member. It's not a suggestion, it's an obligation. A dogma."

"Okay... I think it might be beautiful? It means you're very proud to be a detective, right?"

"Don't you think it's abnormal?" Kirigiri continued.

She had so much pride in her work as a detective that I could hardly see her doubting that. She was raised into it during her childhood, which made the thought of her doubts even harder to fathom. Still....

"What do you think?" I asked her.

"I don't think it's abnormal. I think… I think it's a good mentality," said Kirigiri. I thought for a moment to say that she didn't have to continue, but she opened her mouth before me. "But I feel like I force myself to think like that. Like, I live like a real detective, because I don't want to feel empty."

For her, her life was all about detective work, but even still...

"As long as I'm here, you won't be alone or empty." I hugged her.

"I want it to stay that way," Kirigiri said, looking at me.

"Of course! You're the coolest, most pure detective I know! Let's do our best together! Tomorrow and for as long as possible."

"Ah? ...Well, goodbye." Separating myself from Kirigiri, who walked back with a shyish look on her face, I laid my hand on the gate. I gave her one last look before running to the dormitories, the snow accompanying me. My curfew passed a long time ago! The dormitories were guarded, so I discreetly passed through a window.

Heh, violating the rules on Christmas night.

It felt quite nice!~

Chapter 1: End

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