#your choices in chapter one basically set you down one of four or five different paths

[onlycosmere]

Kaladin Chapter One from Stormlight 5, Parts 1 and 2

Brandon Sanderson: This is first draft. So there's gonna be some stuff in this, things might change. Just be warning you.

This is Kaladin from [Stormlight] Book Five.

Chapter Kaladin One

Kaladin felt good.

Not great. Not after spending weeks hiding in an occupied city, forced to stretch himself both physically and emotionally far beyond the reasonable limit. Not after what had happened to Teft. No, Kaladin didn't feel great. But he stood in the sunlight, looking out the window of his room.

He thought that maybe he would someday feel great again. Knowing that, being able to recognize it, was enough. Indeed, there was an incongruent spring to his step as he walked to his barrack. Why did he feel good? Yes, they had protected Urithiru, but at great cost. Dalinar had set a deadline that was horrifically soon; war was coming upon them, and now Kaladin wasn't going to even be part of it. He was on leave; self-imposed this time.

He'd said the right words, but had realized that those words weren't enough. Stormlight healed his body, but his soul needed time. Bridge Four and the Windrunners would go to battle without him. He should feel awful. A part of him simply refused to do so.

He dug through his clothing, stacks of civilian clothing neatly laundered for him and delivered this morning. The world might be ending in ten days, but Urithiru's washwomen soldiered on. None of the choices felt right, and shortly he glanced to the wall where a new uniform hung, sent by the quartermaster to replace the one Kaladin had ruined during the fighting two days before. Leyten kept a rack of them in Kaladin's size.

Kaladin had stuck it there with a Lashing last night after Teft's funeral, testing something he'd been told by the others: Urithiru was awake now, with its own Bondsmith, and things were... different. That Lashing he had used should have run out after minutes; yet here this one was, ten hours later, still going strong. The extended powers only worked in the city, but he could already see that going forward, this would be a very different place to live. Assuming anyone survived the next two weeks.

A short time later, Syl poked her head into his room without any thought for privacy, as usual. Granted, his room didn't have a door, but a hanging cloth. Doors were in short supply, and they'd installed their first ones on the examination rooms up the hallway to offer privacy to the patients.

Not that a door would have stopped Syl; she could squeeze through the smallest cracks. Except, today, she was walking around full human-sized, for some reason, and wearing a havah instead of her usual girlish dress. She was doing that more commonly, as of late.

As Kaladin did the last buttons on the high collar of his uniform jacket, she bounced over to stand behind him, then floated up in the air a foot or so to look over his shoulder at him in the mirror.

"Can't you make yourself any size?" he asked, checking his jacket cuffs.

"Yeah. Within reason."

"Whose reason?"

"No idea," she said. "I tried to get as big as a mountain, once. It involved lots of grunting and thinking like rocks. Really big rocks. I managed a very small mountain; like, enough to fit in this room with the tip brushing the ceiling, but super narrow. That's as big as I could go."

"So, you could be tall enough to tower over me?" he said. "Why do you usually make yourself shorter than me, instead?"

"It just feels right," she said.

"That's your explanation for basically everything."

"Yep." She poked him. He could barely feel it; even at this size, she was insubstantial in the physical realm. "Uniform? I thought you weren't gonna wear one of those anymore. What happened?"

He hesitated, then pulled the jacket down at the bottom to pull the wrinkles across the sides. "It just feels right," he admitted, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

She grinned, and storm him, he couldn't help but grinning back. "Someone is having a good day," she said, poking him again.

"Bizarrely," Kaladin said. "If I understand right, the world is slated to end in ten days."

"To maybe end in ten days."

"And the enemy appears to be mobilizing for some reason, rather than just waiting for the deadline. What do they hope to accomplish?"

"Something nefarious, no doubt," she said.

"More people are going to die," he replied. "Perhaps people I care about. I won't be there to help them, and..."

"Kaladin Stormblessed!" she said, rising up into the air higher, arms folded. Though she wore a fashionable havah, she left her white-blue glowing hair floating free, waving and shifting in the wind. The non-existent wind, currently. She raised up until she loomed two feet above him. "Don't you dare talk yourself into being miserable!"

"Or what?"

"Or I," she thundered, "shall make silly faces at you all day, as only I can."

"Those aren't silly," he said, shivering.

"They're hilarious!"

"Last time, you made a tentacle come out of your forehead."

"High brow comedy."

"A spinning eyeball growing from the end of it?"

"Every joke needs a good twist."

"Then it slapped me!"

"Punchline. Obviously." She shook her head. "Storms. All the humans in the world, and I end up picking the one without a taste for refined humor."

He met her eyes, and her smile was storming contagious. "It just feels warm," he said, "to have finally figured a few things out. To have made progress, despite it all. To have let go of that weight I was carrying and to step out from the shadow. I know the darkness will return, but I think... I think I'll be able to remember, this time. Better than before."

"Remember what?"

He met her eyes, Lashing himself upward, floating until he was eye level with her. "That days like this exist, too." She nodded firmly. "I wish I could show Teft," Kaladin said. "I miss him like a hole in my own flesh, still."

"I know," she said softly. If she'd been a human friend, she might have offered a hug. Syl didn't seem to understand physicality like a human did, even if she had a more substantial body in the cognitive realm. He got the feeling she didn't actually spend much time there, though; she seemed more natural to this realm than the other honorspren, flitting about like the windspren she sometimes imitated. And indeed today, to cheer him up, she waved eagerly and led him out to the main living room of the family quarters. *inaudible* full human size wearing a havah, but flying about, moving with a swooping motion that was, honestly, a tad ridiculous to watch.

Kal didn't fall, though, continuing to hover. Because, why not? It felt like he wasn't even using up his Stormlight; or if he was, it was constantly replenished, like what happened when Dalinar opened a perpendicularity.

In the main living room, they found Oroden playing with his blocks. At Syl's suggestion, they spent a good half hour hovering the blocks in the air for the *inaudible*. It felt a strange use of his powers, literally harvested from the essence of a god. But, when he stopped, Oroden pointed. "Kaddin," the little boy said, pointing. "You need box!" "You," in this case, meant Oroden himself, who had noticed that everyone called him "you," and had decided that was just another name for him.

Kaladin smiled, hovering up another set of blocks. Syl, shrunken down, hopped from block to block in the air as Oroden swatted and moved them. What am I doing? Kaladin thought after a little of that. The world is ending, my best friend is dead, and I'm playing blocks with my little brother?

Then, in response, a voice deep from within him. Familiar, almost certainly imagined. Hold onto this, Kal. Embrace it. I didn't die so you could mope about like a wet Horneater with no razor. It didn't seem anything mystical, but instead... well, Kaladin had known Teft long enough to anticipate what the man would have said. Even in death, a good sergeant knew his job: keep the officers pointed the right direction."

"Pyl!" Oroden said, gesturing to Syl. "Pyl, come pin!" He was off a second later, with Syl following afterwards as he hopped and pointed, then starting spinning around in circles with her twirling around him.

Kaladin watched, seating on the floor amidst hovering blocks. His mother settled down beside him and nudged him in the side, then handed him a bowl with some lavis grain and spiced crab meat on the top. She wore her hair tied with a kerchief, like she'd always done when working back in Hearthstone. He took the bowl of food without complaint, though he didn't feel particularly like eating. As his mother eyed him, he dutifully started eating away. If there was a group more demanding than sergeants when it came to an officer's well-being, it would be mothers. When he'd been younger, this sort of attention had mortified him. Now, after years without, he found he didn't mind a little mothering. Truth be told, whether he wanted to eat or not, he needed the food.

"How are ya?" she asked.

"Good," he said around spoonfulls of lavis. She studied him. "Really," he said. "Good. Not great. Good enough."

A block flew past, steaming with Stormlight, Lashed upward precisely enough to counteract its weight. Hesina tapped it with a hesitant finger, sending it spinning through the room. "Shouldn't those fall?" she asked.

"Eventually, maybe?" He shrugged. "Navani has done something weird to the place. It's more than the fact that the tower is somehow warm now, and the pressure equalized. The entire city is infused, like a sphere." Water flowed, now, from holes in walls. You simply had to press your hand to the top of the hole and ask, and it came streaming out. You asked for a temperature, and it came out that heat. Suddenly, a lot of the strange basins and empty pools in the tower made sense. They'd expected spigots, but most locations didn't have those. Just mysterious outlets.

He smiled as he watched Syl spin around Oroden, twirling himself, then left him with a few blocks as a distraction. She popped to human size again and flopped down on her back next to Kaladin and his mother, her face covered in an illusionary approximation of sweat. "How," Syl said, "do small humans just keep going? Where does their energy come from?"

"One of the great mysteries of the cosmere," his mother said. "If you think this is bad, you should have seen Kal."

"Oooh," Syl said, rolling over and looking to her with wide eyes, her long, blue-white hair tumbling around her face. No human woman Kaladin had ever known had acted such a casual way wearing a havah. The tight dresses, while not strictly formal, weren't designed for rolling about on the ground bare-footed. Syl, however, would be Syl. "Embarassing childhood stories?" she said. "Go. Talk. While his mouth is full of food so he can't stop you."

"He never stopped moving," Hesina said, leaning forward, "except when he finally <clumped to the ground> to sleep, giving us brief hours of respite. I was required to sing his favorite song, and Lirin would have to chase him. And he could tell if Lirin was giving a half-hearted chase and would chastise him. It was honestly the cutest thing to see Lirin being chewed out by a three-year-old."

"I could have guessed," Syl said, "he would be tyrannical as a child."

"Not tyrannical," Hesina said. "He merely like things to be the way that they should be. As he saw them. Children often are like that, Syl, accepting only one answer to any question because nuance is difficult and confusing."

"Yeah," Kaladin said, scraping the last of the lavis from his bowl. "Children. That's a worldview that obviously only strikes children, never the rest of us."

His mother gave him a side hug, one arm around his shoulders. The kind that seemed to grudgingly admit that he wasn't a little boy anymore. "Do you sometimes wish," she asked him, "the world were a simpler place? That easy answers of a child were, in truth, the actual answers?"

"Not anymore," he said. "'Cause I think the easier answers would condemn me. Most everyone, actually." That made his mother beam, for some reason, even though it was a simple thing to say. Then her eyes got a certain mischievous sparkle to them. He knew his mother, and knew to be wary of what was coming next

"So. You have a spren friend," she said. "Did you ever ask her that important question you always asked me?"

He sighed, bracing himself. "And which question would that be, mother?"

"Poopspren," she said, poking him. "You were always so fascinated by the idea."

"That was Tien!" Kaladin said. "That was not me!"

She returned a knowing stare. Mothers; they remember too well.

"Fine," he said. "Maybe I was intrigued." He glanced at Syl, who was watching the exchange with wide eyes. "Did you ever know any...?"

"Poopspren?" she said flatly. He nodded. "Like, the stinky stuff that comes out of you when you think I'm not looking?" she said. "That stuff? The world is ending, and this is what you want to know? You're asking the only living daughter of the storms, princess of the honorspren, this question: how much poop do I personally know?"

"It's just something that came up," he said, "now and then, when we were boys, if poop actually had a spren, or..."

"Oh, I know tons," Syl said, barely keeping a straight face. "We had them over for dinner all the time. Stormfather and I. Knew an entire poop family."

"I do not want to discuss the topic anymore," Kaladin said. "Please, can we move on. I don't need to know more about poop."

Unfortunately, Oroden wandered over and was watching the conversation with interest. He stepped up and patted Kaladin on the knee. "It's okay, Kaddin," he said in a comforting voice, with a tone of repeating something he'd been told. "Poop goes in the potty. Do better next time and get a treat."

This, of course, sent Syl into a fit of uproarious laughter, flopping on her back again. Kaladin gave his mother his captain's glare, one he knew from experience was good enough to make any soldier go white. Mothers, however, ignored the chain of command. And the glare only made her seem more amused.

So it was that Kaladin was exceedingly relieved when his father appeared in the doorway, a spring in his step and a large stack of papers under his arm. His wife walked over to take these, curious. "Dalinar's medical corps layouts and current operating procedures," Lirin explained to her.

"Dalinar, eh?" she said. "A few meetings and you're on a first-name basis with the most powerful man in the world?"

"The boy's attitude is contagious," Lirin said.

"I'm sure it has nothing to do with his upbringing," Hesina said. "We'll instead assume that four years in the military somehow conditioned him to be flippant around lighteyes."

"Well, I mean..." Lirin glanced at Kaladin. Both looked into his eyes, which were a deep blue these days, never fading back to their proper brown. Didn't help that he was, even still, hovering a few inches off the ground. Air was more comfortable than stone, after all. He knew they found what he'd become to be somewhat unbelievable. He didn't blame them. He found himself stomping in on occasion and trying to believe it himself.

The two of them moved over to the counter at the side of the room, spreading out the pages. "It's a mess," Lirin said. "His entire medical system needs a rebuild from the ground up, with training on how to properly sanitize. Apparently, many of his best field medics have fallen in recent events."

"I hear the army has had a difficult time of things these last few years," Hesina said, scanning the pages.

You have no idea, Kaladin thought. They glanced at Syl, who had sidled over to sit next to him. Oroden went chasing blocks again, and Kaladin... well, he just basked in it for a time. Family. Peace. He'd been running from disaster to disaster for so long, he'd completely forgotten what this felt like. Even moments like dinners with Bridge Four, precious times of respite, had felt like the gasps of air you might get while drowning, rather than truly peaceful breaks. Yet, here he was. Retired, watching his brother play, sitting next to Syl, listening to his parents chat. Storms, it had been a wild ride. He'd survived it all, somehow. And it wasn't his fault that he had.

Syl sat upright next to him, then rested her head, insubstantial though it was, on the side of his shoulder as she watched the blocks float. Which was odd behavior for her, but he wasn't accustomed to her spending so much time in a human size, so maybe her head grew more tired when she was larger. "Why the full size?" he asked her.

"When we were in Shadesmar," she said, "something felt different, about the way everyone looked at me, treated me. I felt more like a person. Less like a force of nature. I'm finding I missed that."

"Do I treat you differently when you're small?"

"A little."

"And you want me to change?"

"I want," she said, "things to change and be the same all at once." She looked at him, and probably saw on his face that he found that completely baffling. She continued, leaning back and giving him a grin. "Suffice it to say that I want to make it harder for certain people to ignore me." With that, she poked him in the arm.

"Is it harder to be this size?"

"Yep," she said. "But I've decided I want to make the effort. Not all the time. More often, though, than I used to." She shook her head, making her hair swirl around. "Do not question the will of the mighty spren princess, Kaladin Stormblessed. My whims are as inscrutable as they are magnanimous."

"You were just saying you wanted to be treated like a person," he said, "not a force of nature."

"No," she said. "I want to decide when I'm treated like a person. That doesn't preclude me wanting to be properly worshiped, as well." She smiled, devious. "I've been thinking of all kinds of things to make Lunamor do, if we ever see him again."

He wanted to offer her some consolation on that, but he honestly had no idea if they'd ever see Rock again. Another hurt, different from the loss of Teft, different again from the loss of Moash; perhaps, the loss of the man he'd thought Moash had been.

"Son," Lirin said from the side of the room, "don't you have a meeting with Dalinar? He mentioned he had something for you to do."

"I already know what it is," Kaladin said, standing up. "He told me yesterday. Szeth is going to Shinovar to confront Ishar. Dalinar wants me to go with him and see if I can do something to help."

"Ishar?" Hesina said. "You mean Ishi'elin, priest of the Heralds, second only to the Almighty in glory and truth?"

"Yeah," Kaladin said. "Apparently he's gone mad? Not surprising, considering how Taln and Ash are faring."

Mother gave him an odd look, and it took a moment to realize it was because he was speaking so familiarly of Heralds, figures of lore that were the focus of religious devotion the world over. He wasn't certain of why he used the familiar tone and names so easily; he didn't know either of them, and was simply using the names they'd used in meetings. It felt natural to talk that way. He'd stopped reverencing people he didn't know the way Amaram branded him. God or king, if they wanted his respect... well, they could earn it.

"Son," Lirin said, turning away from the many sheets of papers they'd been studying, detailing out Dalinar's medical tent layouts. From the way Lirin said the word, Kaladin braced himself for some kind of lecture.

He was unprepared, then, for Lirin to embrace him. Awkwardly; it wasn't Lirin's natural state, this sort of attention. Yet, Kaladin appreciated it. The gesture conveyed things that Lirin found it hard to say. That he'd been wrong. That perhaps Kaladin needed to find his own way. So, Kaladin embraced him back.

"I wish," Lirin said, "I had fatherly advice for you. But I far outpaced my understanding of the way things work in life, so I guess... go be you. Go save the world."

"Dad," Kaladin said. "I'm not going to war. I'm not going to save the world. I'm just going to see if I can talk a crazy man out of a few of his issues."

"Then you are the best one to do it." Lirin pulled back. "I love you."

Kaladin forcibly suppressed an eye roll. This was what he'd wanted; he could deal with a little sappiness.

"Stay safe," his mother said, giving him another side hug. "And come back to us.

He gave her a nod, then glanced at Syl. She'd changed while he wasn't looking, from a havah to a Bridge Four uniform, with her hair in a ponytail like Lyn usually wore. It looked right, somehow, on Syl.

It was time to go. With one final hug for his brother, Kaladin strode out to meet his destiny, for the first time in years feeling like he was somewhat in control. Deciding for himself to take the next step in his life, rather than being thrust into it by momentum or act of society. And while he'd woken up feeling good, that knowledge, that sense of volition and control, felt legitimately great.

Chapter Kaladin Two

Kaladin soared up through the center column of Urithiru, accompanied by Syl. Dalinar still kept his meetings on the top floor, though Kaladin had trouble imagining the location was convenient for people who couldn't fly. He found it difficult not to think about the last time he'd flown up this corridor, following Teft's murder. Enraged, feeling like something unfamiliar had poisoned his blood. A rage, fraternal twin to the normal feelings of Stormlight. Eagerness to act, but this time also to destroy, a storm inside of him, this time red and broken with bloody lightning. That man he'd become after killing the Pursuer; that man frightened him. Even now, days later, lit by calm sunlight, remembering that man was like remembering a nightmare. Made more terrifying by the fact that he knew it had been Kaladin himself and his choices that had led him to that point.

He lighted at the top of the elevator shaft and noted a glow coming from a nearby room. "Navani," Syl whispered, eyes wide. She shrank down to the size of a spren and zipped off. There was something almost intoxicating about Navani to the spren of the city, something about her bond to the Tower and what it had done. Syl would be back shortly, but like vines seeking water, when they came near Navani these last little while, Syl had always flown off for a little bit.

Kaladin forced himself to walk, not glide, over to the room where Dalinar was taking his meetings today. As soon as he left Urithiru, Kaladin would need to go back to using Stormlight only when necessary. Best to be in the habit now.

Dalinar's meeting room had a smaller chamber outside for people to wait while meetings finished. Urithiru was getting more and more furniture these days, so there was a nice couch here in this small stone room where one could sit and wait. It was, unfortunately, taken up entirely by Wit, who was laying on his back, using space that could have accommodated three people, his foot up on one armrest, reading some kind of book and chuckling to himself. "Ahh, Wema," he mumbled, turning the page. "So you've finally seen what a catch Vadam is. Let's see how you screw it up."

"Wit?" Kaladin said. "I didn't realize you were even back in the Tower." It was probably a stupid thing to say, though. Jasnah was back, having been fetched by Windrunners and transported to the Oathgate in Azimir, so it made sense Wit had come along.

Wit, being Wit, finished his page of reading before acknowledging Kaladin. Finally, the lanky man snapped the book closed, then turned and lounged on the sofa in a different way, arms to the sides along the back, one leg crossed over the other, looking nothing so much as a king on his throne. A very relaxed king on a very cushy throne.

"Well," he said, eyes alight with amusement, "if it isn't my favorite flute thief!"

"You gave me that flute, Wit," Kaladin said, sighing as he leaned against the frame of the doorway.

"And then lost it."

"That's not the same as stealing."

"I'm a storyteller," Wit said with a flip of the fingers. "My kind have the right to redefine words as we see fit."

"That's stupid."

"That's literature."

"It's confusing."

"The more confusing, the better the literature!"

"That might be the most pretentious thing I've ever heard."

"Ah," Wit said, pointing. "Now you're getting it. I knew you'd understand."

Kaladin hesitated, trying to sort through what had just been said. Sometimes, during conversations with Wit, he wished he had someone to take notes for him. Wit just sat there, looking back at him, seeming self-satisfied. "So..." Kaladin said, "do you want your flute back?"

"Hell no! I gave you that flute, bridgeboy! Returning it back would be almost as insulting as stealing it!"

"What am I supposed to do with it, though?"

"Hmm," Wit said, reaching into a bag at his feet and slipping out a different flute, this one painted with some kind of shiny red lacquer. He twirled it in his hand. "If only there was something one could do with this curious piece of wood. These holes seem intended for some arcane purpose beyond the understanding of mortals." Kaladin rolled his eyes. "If only," Wit continued, "there was a way to learn to do something productive with this item! It has the look of some natural sort... maybe an instrument? Of curious, mythological design, perhaps intended for some useful purpose? Alas, my poor, finite mind is incapable of comprehending the-"

"If I don't interrupt," Kaladin said, "how long will you keep going?"

"Long, long past the time when it was funny."

"It was ever funny?"

"The words?" Wit said. "Of course not. Your face while I say them, though. Well, it's been said that I am an artist. This is true. Unfortunately, the primary subjects of my art can never experience the truth of my creations as displayed upon their features, them becoming the only one immune to the experience." He flipped the flute in his hand again, then handed it toward Kaladin. "For loan, this time. It has the same fingerings of the one I gave you, though not the same... capacity."

"Wit. I can't play this flute any more than I could play the other one you gave me. I have no idea how."

"So?" Wit flipped the flute again, then extended it further toward Kaladin.

"I guess... I have to wait until Dalinar is done," Kaladin said, looking longingly at the door, which remained closed. Dalinar often took his time in meetings, ignoring appointment times, despite of Navani's attempts to get him to pay attention to one of the many clocks she delivered him. So there was no telling how long Kaladin would be up here.

Wit grinned. And, well... Kaladin felt indebted to him. As infuriating as the man (or whatever he actually was) could be... Well, when Kaladin had been in the worst darkness of the storm, Wit had been there to pull him out. Somehow, despite it being a vision or a nightmare of some sort, Wit had come for him. This man was a friend, and Kaladin appreciated him, quirks included, so he played the role the man obviously wanted.

"Will you teach me?" Kaladin said, taking the flute. "I don't have a lot of time but-"

Wit was already moving, whipping some sheets of paper from the bag at his feet. They had a strange kind of symbol on them, which made Kaladin nervous, but Wit insisted that it wasn't actually writing. Just the marks on paper representing sounds. He said that part with a smile, and it took Kaladin a few minutes to realize the inherent joke to them. Still, over the next hour (Dalinar really was taking his time), Kaladin listened and followed Wit's instructions. He learned the basics of fingering, of reading music and making notes. It was a different experience entirely from trying to figure it out on his own, though he'd largely forgotten about the flute. When Wit would let him in recent months.

When he'd first got it, he had legitimately tried. He knew that he had to blow air across the thing in just the right way, but it wasn't until Wit showed him exactly how to hold his hands that Kaladin managed to coax a few timid notes from the thing. An hour later, he forced out a stumbling rendition of the first line of music with notes that sounded far more shrill than Wit's version. It was an incredibly simple accomplishment, just a handful a notes; yet Kaladin felt he'd climbed a mountain in accomplishing it. He was smiling in a stupid way as Syl peeked back in to investigate the source of the noise. Probably wondering who's been stepping on a rat, Kaladin thought to himself.

"Nice work," Wit said. "Next time you're in a fight, start with a bit of that. The enemy is sure to drop their weapon and cover their ears."

"If anyone asks me about my skill, I'll just be sure to tell them who my teacher is." Wit grinned at that. "Am I at least going to get a story this time?" Kaladin asked, handing the flute back as he sat beside the man on the couch. When was Dalinar going to be done?

"That depends on how well you listen. And if you do what I say. And if you're willing to make up a few of your own." He rapped the flute with his knuckles.

"It was a fun enough way to pass the time while waiting, Wit," Kaladin said, "but I have to ask. Music? Me, playing a flute? What relevance is any of that?"

"Ah. Now there's a question for the ages," Wit said, leaning back. "What use is art? Why does it hold such meaning and potence to us? I can't tell you, because the short answer is unappealing and the long answer takes months. I will instead say this: every society in every region of every planet I've visited (and I've been to quite a large number) has made art."

Kaladin nodded thoughtfully at that. It made sense; Wit wasn't answering it as an actual question, but Kaladin was accustomed to that by now. Protesting would only lead to mockery.

"Perhaps the question isn't 'what use is art?'" Wit mused. "Perhaps even that simple question misses the point? It's like asking the use of having hands or walking upright or growing hair. Art is part of us, Kaladin. That's the use; that's the reason. It exists because we need it on some fundamental level. And the use is simply that: to be made.

When Kaladin didn't respond, Wit eyed him. "I can accept that," Kaladin said. "It's a tautology. Which is the point: the more confusing, the better, right?"

Wit grinned, and then that grin faded. He glanced through the door into Dalinar's meeting room.

"Wit," Kaladin asked, "I get the feeling this next part is going to be difficult."

"Yeah," Wit said softly. "I feel it too." A straight answer. Those were always strangely disturbing.

"Do you have any words of wisdom? Encouragement?"

"Everything you've done, Kal, everything you've been, has prepared you for this. It's going to be hard. Fortunately, life has been hard, so you're working under familiar constraints. We just carry these weights, son; eventually, we'll get to put them down."

Kaladin glanced to the side to where Wit was staring off into space, idly spinning the red flute in his fingers. Something in his voice, his face. "You're talking," Kaladin said softly, "like you think one of us won't survive this."

"I wish I were optimistic enough to think one of us would survive."

"Wit, I'm pretty sure I've heard you say that you're immortal."

"Yeah. Immortality doesn't seem to go as far as it once did, kid." He glanced at Kaladin, then plastered on a smiling face. "Listen. I think you can rise to this. Probably. Difficult though it will be. You're up for a different kind of challenge now. As am I." Wit tapped the flute. "You're going to have to learn to play music, Kaladin. Without using your breath or your lips."

"Wit. I know we've been joking about being confusing. Can you try for once to be clear?"

"I am trying. You'll win when you don't play music with your own breath, and when you fight without your own muscles. Play the flute, but don't. And fight, but don't."

"I think you've been reading too many stories, Wit. Riddles aren't actually helpful in real life."

Wit launched himself off the couch, crossing the room on legs that suddenly seemed spindly. He passed Syl, human-sized again, lingering in the doorway and watching him with a frown. "Listen," Wit said, sounding almost frustrated. "It will make sense when you get to it, maybe, if you can take this next journey down the right path. Keep your hope strong."

"Jasnah doesn't believe in hope," Syl whispered at the doorway. "I heard her complaining about it once."

"Jasnah would make an excellent Wit," Wit said, pointing at Syl. "She's the right amount of smart and the right amount of stupid all at once." He smiled in a fond way, and Kaladin wondered if there was anything to the rumors about those two. Wit spun toward Kaladin. "Do you know about the Passions?"

"That's some old Thaylen religion," Kaladin said, shrugging. "Something about emotion."

"Derived anciently from the teachings of Odium," Wit said, crossing the room and spreading his hands. "Though, honestly, it's not polite to point out that fact to practitioners of the Passions. People don't like hearing the way their religion was, mythologized like all others, as if myths can't be true. Regardless, the Passions teach that if you are fervent enough, if you care enough, your emotion itself will influence yourself. Not simply because of positive thinking. The Passions, as a religion, teach that if you want something badly enough, the cosmere will provide it for you."

Kaladin nodded slowly. "There might be something to that."

"Kid," Wit said, leaning down before where Kaladin still sat on the couch. "The Passions are utter horseshit."

"Why? It's good to be hopeful. The Passions sound nice."

"The wrong people get far too much mileage out of things that sound nice," Wit said. "The amount of money, effort, and lives wasted on things that sound nice would astonish you. Take it from a guy who is all too capable of the lie: nothing is easier to sell somebody than the story that they want to hear.

"Nice doesn't mean true, or even helpful. The Passions are deeply insulting if you spare even a moment to consider. I once spoon-fed broth to a trembling child in a kingdom that no longer exists. I found her on a road leading away from a battlefield after her parents, simple peasants who were caught between clashing armies, were slaughtered. Her elder brother lay half a mile behind, having starved hours before I found her. You think that kid who starved didn't want to eat? You think her parents didn't want badly enough to escape the ravages of war? You think if they had Passion enough, the cosmere would have saved them? How convenient to be able to believe that people are poor because they simply didn't care enough to be rich? That they didn't pray hard enough? So convenient to make suffering their own fault, rather than the result of life being unfair and birth mattering more than aptitude or storming Passion."

Kaladin met Wit's eyes, frowning. He didn't know if he'd ever seen the man so riled up by a simple concept, one that barely seemed to have anything to do with their conversation. But one could never tell with Wit. Non sequiturs that ended up being relevant were the daggers he kept strapped to his boots to be employed when his foes were distracted.

"You're a lighteyes now, Kaladin," Wit said, leaning forward even further. "You've hauled yourself up out of the crem, and done something incredible in that. You deserve praise. But be careful of assuming that people only get what they deserve in life. That's been sold a hundred different ways: positive thinking leading to opportunity, absolutist prosperity doctrines, the Passions. I've seen the same ideas recycled in a dozen different worlds, sure to emerge among useful ideas like storming weeds on a battlefield. They're all the same: deliberate, pernicious lies devised by powers who know their success was due to to luck at best, crass exploitation and larceny at worst. So they have to invent some kind of moral rationalization, a lie that lets them think they deserve what they have. Then, after inhaling their own stench long enough, they decide to package and sell it. And when it doesn't work for anyone else; well, they have the ultimate excuse. It isn't the idea that is flawed. You just don't care enough."

"Storms," Syl said, crossing the room. "This is important to you."

"And yet," Wit said, glancing at her, "wanting and praying desperately for all of them to choke on their own fingers as they reach down their throats to pull forth further nuggets of regurgitated idiodicy, it hasn't happened. Funny, that."

"Hope matters, though," Kaladin said. "You just told me earlier to hope."

"Sure, it matters. Of course it matters. You think I'd be here if it didn't? Hope is a virtue. But the definition of that word is relevant. You know what a virtue actually is? It's not that difficult."

"If this entire conversation is the way I learn," Kaladin said, "then I dispute the point of it not being that difficult."

Wit chuckled, then stepped back and threw his hands in the air. "Virtue is something that is valuable, even if it gives you nothing. A virtue persists without payment or compensation. Positive thinking is great, vital, useful; but it has to remain so, even if it gets you nothing. Belief, truth, honor: the moment these exist only to get you something is the moment you've missed the storming point."

He glanced at Syl. "This is where Jasnah is wrong about hope, smart though she is in so many other ways. If hope didn't mean anything to you despite losing, then it wasn't ever a virtue to you in the first place. Took me a long time to learn this, even though I've had it explained to me a long time ago by a smart man. A man who lost every belief he thought he had, but started over now."

"Sounds like someone wise," Syl said.

"Oh, Saze is among the best. He might be the wisest man I've ever known."

"Too bad none of it rubbed off," Kaladin said.

Wit tossed his flute, spinning it, then pointed it directly at Kaladin. "Congratulations. You've practiced music, you've listened to a self-important rant, and you've delivered quips at awkward points. I dub you a graduate from Wit's school of practical impracticality."

Syl sat down on the couch, though she left no impression in its cushions, hovering as always rather than truly sitting. She seemed completely baffled by all of this.

"Wit," Kaladin said, "does that make me your apprentice?"

Wit belted out a full-stomach last, one that lasted an extended time, long enough to be uncomfortable. "Kal," he said, gasping for breath, "you've learned a few things, but you're still far, far too useful a human being to be an apprentice of mine. You'd end up actually helping people! No, I have to refuse. I've already got one bridgeboy as an apprentice, and he's plenty incompetent to keep a hold of the position for many years to come."

"I'm sure Sig will love that description of him," Kaladin said. "I'll have you know he's doing a fine job leading the Windrunners."

"You've been corrupting him," Wit said. "I'm trying to return that favor to you. No, you're not my apprentice, but that doesn't mean you can't pick up a thing or two. A kind of cross-training into uselessness."

"You're so storming melodramatic," Kaladin said.

"Just trying to give you a proper send-off," Wit replied. "We're at the end, Kaladin, and you are needed. I want to send you to your divine destiny with a spring in your step."

"I don't know why everyone talks like that," Kaladin said. "War might be coming, but I'm heading away from it. Dalinar wants me to help a maniac come back to himself, and perhaps keep another one in line during the trip."

"That's it, eh?" Wit said. "Yeah, that's it. A little thing. Just you becoming the world's first therapist."

Kaladin glanced at Syl, who shook her head. "We have no idea what that is, Wit."

"Because," Wit said, "you haven't finished inventing it yet!" He leaned in. "About time someone figured out a method to counteract what I've been doing. Makes my job more fun, because a challenge is always appreciated. Now go, the two of you. The world needs you: more than you, or it, or anyone other than your humble Wit yet realizes. The fight ahead of you is going to be legendary. Just remember what I said. You can't fight this one with the strength of muscle. You'll have to wield the spear another way."

"And learn to play the flute," Kaladin said flatly, "without playing it."

"Yep, you've got it."

With a sight, Kaladin stood up. Then, the most remarkable thing happened. Wit extended his hand. Then didn't pull it back as Kaladin hesitantly took it, but gave it a firm shake.

"Thank you," Wit said.

"For what?"

"For the inspiration."

Kaladin frowned again. "I'm never going to see you again, am I, Wit?"

"Nobody knows the future, Kal," he replied, "not even me. So instead of saying goodbye, let's call this an extended period of necessary separation, requisite to give me time to think of the most perfect, exquisite insult. And if I never get to deliver it to you in person; well, kindly do me the favor of imagining how wonderful it was, all right?"

"All right."

Wit winked at him, then let go of his hand and walked over to rap at the door. Dalinar himself opened it a moment later. "You finally done with him, Wit?" the man asked. "I've been waiting for a storming hour, and there isn't time to waste!"

"He's yours," Wit said. "Remember what I told you."

"I will," both Kaladin and Dalinar said at the same time. They glanced at each other.

"Wit," Kaladin called just before the man vanished. "What about my story? What about my story?"

"You will tell your own story this time, Kaladin," Wit said, with a last glance and a wink. Then he was gone, his whistle from outside slowly retreating.

"You ever think," Kaladin said to Dalinar, "that you'd end up dancing on that man's whims?"

"I suspect," Dalinar said, stepping back and waving for Kaladin to enter, "we've been dancing to them for years without knowing it. I think he's some kind of god."

"No," Syl said, joining Kaladin as they walked in, but looking over her shoulder. "He could have been a god, but he turned it down. Which makes him something else entirely."

Dalinar grunted, then gestured into the chamber. "Come. I have a few things to tell the two of you, then you need to be on your way."

#the stormlight archive #kowt #stormlight 5 #cosmere #brandon sanderson #cosmere future #cfsbf #root #long post

[unmourned]

today i sat down and wrote down the different chapters and paths on paper instead of just having them Exist in my brain and

there will be many branches :)) 

#your choices in chapter one basically set you down one of four or five different paths #which then influences when you meet the other characters and how those characters act #:)))) #it's going to be fun to write but i'm already fighting myself for the coding lmao #astra speaks #informal update <3

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24Leaders #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental justice #environment protection #environmental health #Youtube

[elriel-month]

Hi everyone!

Welcome to the second ever ELRIEL MONTH, where we hope to foster a positive space for Elain and Azriel shippers. Each week will feature one broad prompt that centers on different aspects of their current and possible future relationship.

Follow us on:

tumblr ✷ twitter ✷ instagram 1 ✷ instagram 2

Rules and weekly prompts under the break!

RULES:

✷ Participation of each day/prompt is optional!

✷ Ideally, post your art/work on the week of the prompt. However, if you cannot post on time, post whenever you can.

✷ Elriel month will be across tumblr, twitter, and instagram.

✷ If you want to be featured on this blog please send us a message with a link to your submission.

✷ On Tumblr while posting your piece of work please use the following hashtags:  #elrielmonth, #elrielmonth22

✷ No hate or slander towards other characters!

✷ Your submission can be a fanart, oneshot, edits, gifset, moodboard, playlist - anything you deem acceptable.

✷ Week five is free choice - you can indulge your own prompt or elriel fantasy!

✷ Be respectful of other people’s work. Do not repost without permission and credit.

Week One - May 1 through 7: 

FORBIDDEN LOVE

"Allow me to make one thing very clear. You are to stay away from her." "You can't order me to do that." [ACOSF, Azriel Bonus Chapter]

This week involves anything to do with Elain and Azriel’s forbidden love. From Rhys forbidden Azriel from pursuing Elain, to society generally frowning upon Elain falling in love with somebody who isn’t her mate. 

Week Two - May 8 through 14:

SPIES, VISIONS, SHADOWS, AND KNIVES

She scanned Elain from head to toe, wondering if she'd been taking lessons In stealth either from Azriel or the two half-wraiths she called friends. [ACOSF]

This week is about Elain and Azriel’s powers and careers! We got so many hints in ACOSF that Elain is gearing up to be a spy... and what better spy than one who can see the past, present, and the future! With Elain’s ability to see it all and Azriel hearing it all, they’re basically unstoppable. 

Week Three - May 15 through 21:

THE GARDEN

He set her down gently on the foyer carpet, having carried her in through the front door. Elain peered up at his patient, solemn face. Azriel smiled faintly. "Would you like me to show you the garden?" [ACOWAR]

This week is all about the gardens and is inspired by Elain and Azriel relaxing in the garden together and going over all her gardening plans. It’s important to both of them... so would it come as a surprise if Azriel surprises Elain with a trip to Rosehall?

Week Four - May 22 through 28:

CHOICE, TRUE MATES, AND BALANCE

"What if," I jerked my chin toward the window, to my sister and the shadowsinger in the garden, "that is what she needs" [ACOWAR]

This week is all about Elain and Azriel’s most inner desires. Elain has lacked a choice  - her choice of humanity, her choice of a partner... While Azriel himself has never been chosen - not by his family or his longtime love. Will Azriel and Elain choose to be with each other? Can true love trump a mating bond?

Week Five - May 29 through 31: 

ANYTHING YOUR HEART DESIRES

This is a free week! Feel free to post anything you’d like! 

#elriel #pro elriel #elain x azriel #azriel x elain #elrielmonth #elrielmonth22 #pro azriel #pro elain #elain archeron #azriel #pro SJM #acotar #acotar5

[maddiwrites]

The Hybrid (Prologue)

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: The Pogues rekindle their friendship with their old childhood best friend and JJ’s first crush, Y/N. Old feelings resurface for JJ and Y/N, possibly leading to a summer neither one of them could ever forget. Due to past trauma, Y/N is reluctant to let anyone into her heart, but JJ never backs down from a challenge, even if he knows it will come back to haunt him in the end.

Note: So happy to be back with another series!!! I honestly really missed posting. Unlike Secrets of the Shore, updates will be slower because I don’t have them all written out yet. A couple things I wanted to let you know before you read. I based Y/N’s family off of Gilmore Girls. I thought they were the perfect fit for this story and the show in general and I just love their dynamic. (Including Luke who I renamed Steve for obvious reasons). Chapter 1 will explain more obviously but I wanted to give you guys a little snippet of the characters and relationships. So let me know what y'all think!

Word Count: 3.3k

Outer Banks. Paradise on Earth. It's the sort of place where you either have two jobs or two houses. Two tribes, one island. As you know, the Outer Banks is essentially divided into two groups. If we want to be blunt - it’s the rich and the poor. Figure Eight is home to the rich. Aka the Kooks. With houses bigger than necessary with extra rooms that go untouched, boats the size of homes on the Cut - the other side of the island. Most people who live on Figure Eight are your naturally raised assholes. People who don’t know the value of a dollar and take advantage of people who do most of their dirty work that lets them prance around the island with perfectly manicured fingernails. These hard workers are the Pogues. They live on the south side of the island where most Kooks wouldn’t be found dead. They serve fancy meals at the country club for shitty tips, mow lawns, and work their asses off at any other job for minimum wage. The drastic difference in lifestyles tend to cause many spats and arguments between the two communities. Especially between the teenagers who still don’t know how to control their raging emotions or know when to bite back their tongue. For the Kooks, every fight is a fight for dominance where as the Pogues fight for equality - to put the Kooks in their place. Many of these fights happen at summer parties where the two groups clash to find a good time with their friends filled with alcohol, drugs, and good music.

That’s where they find themselves tonight. The infamous Pogues. John B, JJ, Kie, Pope, and now Sarah Cameron. Although born a natural Kook, she’s earned her spot next to the adventurous teens and her boyfriend. Unlike her brother Rafe who basically is the leader of his notorious group. Topper and Kelce are his best friends who follow him blindly.

The Pogues watch them from their spot surrounding the keg. Kie purses her lips in distaste as the boys cat call for the ladies around them. Somehow most of them finding it flattering. Sarah sips on her beer to hide her embarrassment, often wondering how she and her brother grew up to be so different. Pope and John B stay mostly disinterested, only worried if they try to make a pass at an unwilling girl or fire a degrading comment at their short tempered friend. JJ Maybank is known around the island for his trouble making behavior. Usually if he gets in trouble for fights, no one ever asks who the other people were in the scuffle. Because if JJ Maybank is in the fight, he’s the one who started it, right? Wrong. In fact, JJ usually is never the one to start it. He’s good at keeping his head down and only speaking when spoken to when it comes to the Kooks - the only form of advice worth taking from his father. But his short temper is something the Kooks his age loved to take advantage of because they liked getting a rise out of him. It was like an adrenaline rush.

Luckily, tonight both groups were keeping their distance, either only talking to each other or random Tourons that have found their way to the party. This is usually JJ’s favorite part of a boneyard party. Finding his one fish in a sea of many that he can reel in just for the night and never have to worry about seeing them again.

He has his eyes set on a beautiful blonde making her way to the bonfire when all of a sudden Kie’s voice pulls him out of his trance.

“What’s she doing here?”

JJ follows her line of vision, spotting you walking down the wooden steps that lead to the beach, pulling your best friend behind you by his wrist. He first notices your smile and how it brightens up your entire face. Then of course his eyes scan down your slim but athletically toned body. You’re wearing a pair of jean shorts and a cropped white T shirt that says UNC across the chest. Who knew someone could look so good without even trying?

Well JJ did. He’s known it for a while.

“Careful. I think you’re drooling,” John B whispers in his best friend’s ear.

JJ pushes him away and mutters, “Shut up. No I’m not.”

But maybe he was.

Y/N Y/L/N is a unique resident of the island. Unlike majority of the island, she doesn’t fall in either Kook or Pogue category. She’s what everyone calls the Hybrid.

People who work hard for what they have but haven’t fallen to be Pogue status. Quite literally living in the middle in a place they call the Crest.

Your story is well versed among the gossipers of the island (which tends to be just about everybody).  And mainly that’s because of who your grandparents are.  Claude and Doris Y/L/N. Two of the riches people on the island, living in a three story house on the beach. Many people fear them, others envy them. Most feel both. Even Ward Cameron walks on egg shells around them, which is quite often, considering he works for Claude. They’re the kind of people who have never heard of Barefoot wine or Walmart. They keep their noses up and turn a blind eye to the suffering communities around them. Thirty four years ago, Doris gave birth to a daughter that couldn’t be more opposite than them. Lorelai Y/L/N was a wild child. A rule breaker. She snuck out at nights, dated boys her parents would never approve of, dabbled in breaking the law here and there. It didn’t matter how many times her parents disciplined her. She always managed to make her parents’ life a living hell. 

No one was surprised when word got passed around that Lorelai had gotten pregnant at eighteen. Although it was with another Kook, she brought shame upon her family name when she refused to get an abortion, even when her mom tried dragging her by her hair. 

Lorelai risked everything by running away from her parents’ home in the middle of a windy night. With only one suitcase, the baby daddy out of the picture, and less than a grand in her pocket, she managed to make a life for herself on the South side of the island. She worked two jobs, found an affordable apartment for cheap rent, and managed to save some money before her babies were born.

Yes, babies. As in more than one. Five months after running away from home, she gave birth to twin girls and they instantly became her entire life. With the help of her best friend Steve, who she met one month after being on her own, meeting him at his automotive shop when she very much literally rolled her junky car into the garage, she raised you and your sister on the Cut. The two of you are her greatest accomplishment. Every now and then, she mentally throws up a middle finger to everybody who doubted her, proud of who the two of you have become. 

Right before you turned ten, your mom took a business risk and opened her own Cafe. The Bikini Beans cafe, very popular amongst both Kooks and Pogues. The business did so well that she was able to move the three of you out of your shitty apartment into a beautiful one story home with three bedrooms in between the Cut and Figure Eight, aka the Crest, the summer going into your freshman year.

You actually used to be best friends with John B Routledge, JJ Maybank, and Pope Heyward. It was easier being friends with them than the girls, finding more joy in sports and rough housing than makeup and gossip. 

Doing the same summer that you moved, your mom pulled you out of Kildare County High and placed you in Outer Banks Private Academy. Aka Kook Academy. Around this time, your grandparents had also become more involved in your life, and you wondered if they had somehow bribed your mom into forcing you to transfer schools. You tried asking her during one of your many fights that started with you begging her to keep you at Kildare County High, but she quickly shut you down and told you to be grateful. That was ironic coming from the woman who ran away from the people giving her an expensive high school career. 

You had no choice but to do what your grandparents wanted and attend Kook Academy. Making friends was a lot harder there than it was in Kildare County High. You managed to make one friend in your freshman year. Andre Cortez. Due to an incident a couple years back, you built thick walls and Andre was the only one able to break them down. You were grateful for your friendship, but hanging out with him was nothing like hanging out with the Pogues. 

When you transferred schools, you lost touch with the Pogues slowly. Your life became busy with school and playing dress up for your grandparents and the boys were starting to work. Eventually all contact was cut and ever since, you’ve felt a void in your heart.

“Look,” You tell Andre. “I told you I would be your wing woman and I’m not backing down from what could possibly be the most important role in my life.”

You didn’t notice the Pogues or any of the stares around you. It’s true you’re not much of a party girl. I mean, you’ll go out here and there, have a drink or two, but you felt more comfortable at places where you weren’t surrounded by drunk and horny teenagers. 

“He’s probably not even here,” Andre says. He’s trying to look nonchalant but you notice the way his eyes dance from face to face of the people around him. 

“He told you he was going to be here, right?” You ask him with one brow raised. Andre nods. “Then, we’ll find him.”

Sarah and Kie never made any effort to talk to you at school, but to be fair, neither have you. You’ve heard mixed reviews, some people call them spoiled brats, ungrateful...some even go as far as calling them ‘The Cut Sluts.’ Of course you never take any of those things to heart. You can’t judge a book but it's cover. Plus, they’re friends with your old best friends. They can’t be that bad for John B and JJ and Pope to be hanging out with them, right?

“You think she'll come over here?” Kie asks. No one’s ever said it out loud, but her friends wonder if deep down, Kie was a little jealous of you. Because you were their first real girl friend. You were the first girl they ever let in and opened their heart too. That was a tough pill for Kie to swallow when she originally thought she was that girl. Of course the boys don’t like you any more than Kie and vice versa. But sometimes Kie wishes she could have grown up with the boys the same way you had. 

“Probably not. Unless she’s drinking,” Pope says and motions towards the keg they’re near. 

“I have an idea,” John B says and fills up a red solo cup. He hands it to JJ. “Why don’t you go offer her a cup.”

JJ snags the cup out of John B’s hand and glares at him. “Fuck off, dude.” 

“Do you guys ever see her around at school?” Pope asks the girls.

Sarah shrugs. “Not really. She doesn’t really get a long with my old group of friends.”

Kie rolls her eyes. “No one gets along with your old group of friends.”

Sarah playfully shoves Kie by the shoulder and they laugh. 

“I heard she turned down Raymond Easterling a couple weeks ago and he didn’t take it very well,” Pope says, remembering the words he heard from the kids in his class roaming the school hallways. 

Raymond goes to Kildcare County High with the Pogues. He’s known to be a trouble maker and a class clown. He works with JJ at the country club. The kid can make JJ laugh sometimes, but he wouldn’t necessarily say he likes him all that much. He can be an arrogant asshole with an ego bigger than it should be.

“She turns down everybody,” Sarah says. “Some people at my school call her ‘The Heart Sucker’ because she can pull people in with the snap of her fingers and break their heart just as quickly.”

Something stirred in the pit of JJ’s stomach.

“Hey! Where you going?” John B calls out to JJ who’s making his way deeper into the sea of people on the beach. 

“Taking advantage of a good boneyard party, my friend,” JJ calls back and slugs the rest of his beer. Looking left and right, he searches for the blonde he had eyes on earlier. Because right now, he needed a distraction. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

The party starts to die down a little after midnight. Some people leave to find another party, some are passed out in the back of their cars, and others had already found what they were looking for - someone to leave with. 

The boneyard party wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be. You had found a couple of kids from your school who were nice enough to make small talk with you while Andre left to find a guy named Devon, a Touron he’s been talking to who’s renting for the entire summer. 

Now you’re waiting for Andre to come back so the two of you can walk home. You find comfort under a slanted palm tree towards the back of the beach, scrolling through random apps on your phone to pass the time.

“Y/N?” You look up from you phone and smile when you see your former best friend inching closer to you, squinting in the dark to see if it’s really you. 

“Maybank? What are you still doing here?” You stand up and pat the sand off your hands on you thighs. 

Your heart skips a beat in your chest when you look at him. He’s beautiful. Lucious blonde hair, perfectly tanned skin, piercing blue eyes. You always knew JJ was going to grow up to be gorgeous. He was cute when he was younger. At least you always thought so. 

“I was just leaving, but I thought I saw you sitting here and wanted to make sure you were all right.” He knows it’s not like you to stay this late at a party, especially all by yourself. When he first saw you sitting there, he didn’t know if he should say something. Mostly due to nerves of seeing you again. But the other Pogues had already left and he didn’t trust anyone else at the party to be near you alone late at night. It didn’t matter if you were sober or not. 

“Aw. Was JJ Maybank worried about me?” You tease. Talking to him felt easy. As if you never stopped being friends. A few years ago, you and JJ had the best banter. Despite constantly bickering back and forth, John B always swore the two of you would get married one day. The two of you just always clicked like a natural connection. And even now, when only seeing each other every now and then for a few minutes at a time, it felt normal. You smirk when JJ rolls his eyes. “I’m kidding. Yeah, I’m okay. Just waiting for my friend to come back from his little rendezvous,” You say. 

JJ nods. “Did you have a good time? I feel like I never you see at these things.”

“Yeah. Parties aren’t really my thing. But Andre was nervous to meet this guy he’s been talking to for a little while so I came for moral support.”

“Looks like he didn’t need much of the support.”

You shrug. “It’s better that way, anyway. I don’t mind waiting for him. What about you?”

“What about me?” 

“Did you have a good time tonight? I hear your quite the ladies’ man at these things.”

“Come on, Sparky. You know better than to believe everything you hear.”

Your face lights up at the mention of your old nickname. You use to always be busting out the seams with energy. On days where the boys just wanted to chill and play video games, you would drag them to the park for a game of kick ball. Or when they wanted to sleep in after a long week, you showed up at 8 am to drag them out of bed to catch the morning waves. So one day JJ started calling you Sparky, and it stuck with the rest of your little gang. You always pretended to hate it, but secretly you loved it. 

“Oh I don’t believe everything I hear. I do, however, believe what I see. And your arm around that tall blonde in the little black dress looked quite convincing.”

You first saw JJ at the party when he was making his way to the pretty girl by the water. Your teeth involuntarily clenched and there was a twisted feeling in your stomach you couldn’t shake whenever you looked at them. 

In that instant, JJ felt grateful for the dark sky. He felt the rush of heat rise up his neck to his cheeks before he could stop it. He knew the motivation to see that girl was because of you. He just wished you never saw it. But he didn’t know why. 

“I walked her home. She wasn’t my type,” JJ plays it off. 

“I didn’t realize you had a type,” You giggle, but a small part felt relieved to hear this. “So what is it? Your type?”

Hybrids with a Pogue attitude, bright smile, beautiful eyes, and a mouth that could make any sailor turn around, JJ thought. 

“I don’t know. Haven’t figured it out yet.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Well, when you figure it out let me know.”

“Why? So you can transform into my ideal girl?” He teases.

Now you’re the one thankful for the dark sky. “In your dreams, Maybank. But so far, I do have the perfect wing-woman track record, so if you needed help -”

“I don’t think I need any help in that department. Thank you very much.”

You throw your hands up in fake surrender. “Ooo. Touchy subject.”

JJ rolls his eyes at the same time your phone pings with a text message. You pull it out of your shorts pocket and open the text from Andre, telling you to leave without him because he’s gonna stay out late with Devon and won’t know what time he’s going to be done.

“Everything all right?” JJ says, watching you read the message.

You lock your phone and stuff it in your back pocket again. “Like I said. Perfect wing-woman track record.”

“That was Andre?” 

“Yeah. He’s most likely not coming home tonight.”

“Lucky bastard.”

“At least one of us is,” You joke. 

JJ’s grin slightly falters but you don’t catch it. You have no idea how much he wishes the two of you could be equally as lucky. Together. 

“Well, I should probably go,” You say and bend down to grab your flip flops.

“Let me walk you home,” JJ offers. 

“Oh no. It’s okay -”

“You’re cute. It’s wasn’t up for debate. I’m not letting you walk back by yourself.”

You scoff lightly. “I’ll be fine.”

“Just humor me.”

You roll your eyes and smirk but choose not to argue. In fact, you’re excited to spend more time with JJ. It’s been so long.

“Fine.”

“And here I thought you might’ve grown out of your stubborn phase by now.”

You shove him playfully by the shoulder. “Shut up!”

And just like that, it felt like old times.

#jj fanfiction #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank x reader #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #obx imagine #obx fic #jj maybank one shot

[nanaminokanojo]

Play the Game | Nanami Kento X You | Part 8/8 [COMPLETED]

CHARACTERS: Nanami Kento X You (fem!reader | PLEASE READ THE NOTES BELOW*) | Gojo Satoru | Geto Suguru | Shoko Ieiri | Utahime Iori | other JJK Characters CHAPTER COUNT: 8/8 WORD COUNT: 4, 800+ GENRE: romance | fluff | slight angst | smut | ooc depictions | female reader with described appearance* | modern au | rich people au | aged up characters CHAPTER TRIGGER WARNING: profanity | age gap | cigarette smoking | strong/mature/suggestive language | alcohol use SPOILERS: n/a STATUS: COMPLETED

collection masterlist

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight (final)

"Play the Game" Masterlist

You stood by the door, watching the chaos in your brother’s bedroom as he prepared for his wedding at sunset, waiting for everyone to leave so you can finally speak to him in private. He was, after all, the only one in the family you cared for enough to inform him of your decisions.

People always say you and Gojo were similar. However, those very things that made you alike also set you apart. Besides the platinum white hair and remarkable blue eyes you shared – unique even within the clan – being the absolute obvious, the similarities stopped there.

You siblings were supposed to be akin to one another, but the same things they loved about your brother were the same things people abhorred about you. You and your brother were both prodigies. He was richer than the whole clan, all assets combined being the successful businessman he was ever since he was in his teens. It was as freakish as it was awe-inspiring. You were an artist of great renown with your multi-million dollar pieces and the youngest to have been dubbed as a national artist when you were the same age as him.

But where he basked in fame and acclaim, your prominence was fueled by infamy. Gojo built an empire that served as one of the pillars of the local economy. You produced artistic pieces that inspired execration and controversy. Undeniably brilliant, yes, but absolutely contentious.

Your brother was kind. In fact, he was the best older brother one could ever ask for, and that was not lip service nor was it because of your biases towards him. You can never discount how caring he is to you, how hard he tries to make you happy and how he would go through lengths as to be the idiot just to satisfy your whims. He was just genuinely good-natured although he appeared somewhat insouciant. He had his evil streak, too, which is established in the clan, but his goodness radiated like a light that followed him wherever he went.

However, you have long accepted that your side which reflected Gojo in every way when you were younger had long died. Altruism wasn’t one of your strongest suits and you were only ever affectionate to people you had deep, deep fondness for. And that wasn’t even something common. Even your parents had always been the receiving end of your lackadaisical attitude.

He attracted people, you repelled them. Being surrounded by the good people he called friends was a testament to that no matter how vexing his personality was, and more people want to be near him. Apart from your three friends, you didn't make any more and your school life sucked because majority of your classmates hated you. For what, you didn't know. You don’t think you will ever understand.

It was your seven-year gap that made all the difference, you liked to think. It was much easier to swallow than the concept of the whole cosmos conspiring to create two creatures to be equals but of the opposite nature. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be that way, but you will always be the one looking up to him regardless if you did not choose the same path as his; regardless of whether there were no comparisons with what either of you endeavored to do.

And above everything else, you loved Satoru very much.

“Got a minute?” You began, standing before him in front of the mirror. It was rather annoying watching him struggle with the cufflinks, and you didn’t think he would manage to fix the bowtie still hanging loosely on his neck. Thus, you thought of taking charge. “Give it here.”

Gojo was surprised, but he was nonetheless happy. He wore his heart on his sleeve after all, and you could only guess it was that vulnerability he risked showing that attracted people to him. You have only learned the intricacies of such a matter recently, something you had to agree with since it all made perfect sense.

“Thank you,” he said, tilting his head to the side, watching you work on his cuffs.

“You’re really getting married, huh?” you began, feeling yourself start to falter, but you have decided. You may not have gotten him the best wedding gift materially speaking, but you swore to let him in on what was going on with you, to be honest with him like you hadn’t been for the longest time. “Who would have known?”

“Am I finally getting that emotional pre-wedding sibling talk?” he asked, walking towards the seats by the window and looking out into the garden.

“You’re getting married, not being sent away to prison. I don’t even understand why this happens during weddings,” you quipped, sighing. “But I guess you could call it that.”

He smiled at you, patting the space beside him. You did as you were told, assuming the spot, but also looking out the window, watching as the organizers made finishing touches to the garden below. No expense was spared to make the occasion as perfect as it could get. You couldn’t argue with it. Gojo deserved the best, and to him, Utahime did, too.

“I’m waiting,” he said, breaking the silence that had befallen the room. “You’ve been pacing before the door for god knows how long when you should have been getting ready.”

“I got ready much faster than you did.”

“And you look beautiful.” He tilted his head to the side, eyeing you appreciatively. “Sometimes, I can’t believe you’re all grown up. And what a beautiful woman you’ve become.”

You smirked. “You’re looking at your mirror image after all.”

“Well, there’s that, of course.” He laughed slightly. “But I’m not just saying that because we’re basically the same person. You really are beautiful, baby sis.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, opting for it instead of his usual choice of mussing your hair since it has already been styled for the wedding.

You just shook your head. “Thank you, Satoru.”

“So, what did you want to talk about exactly?”

“The other day…” Your voice trailed off, thinking about what to say. It wasn’t that way before between you and your brother. He was always the easiest person to talk to, always open minded and optimistic about matters. But now that you were going to discuss something that he had vocally opposed, you were a bit scared of saying anything. Nevertheless, it wouldn’t do Nanami justice if you decided to hold back now, considering that he was more than ready to speak to your brother.

You’ve both initially decided to sit Gojo down and tell him about your decisions together, but you informed Nanami earlier in the day that you needed to have a proper conversation with him first. It wasn’t just your choice to be with Nanami that was the matter, and you wanted to get things straightened out with Gojo before he gets married.

“Yes?” he prompted.

“You said I don’t talk enough to you; that I don’t tell you things anymore.”

Gojo slowly nodded.

You breathed out. “Things changed. We can’t deny that. I grew up and you…well, you’ve decided you want to spend your life with Iori and build your own family.” Your lips curled up awkwardly as you tried to keep your emotions at bay. It was new territory having such talks with him when you’re used to your easy-going dynamic with him. “I’m scared, too. I mean, I can’t just bother you anytime anymore cause you’ll have your wife and eventually children to pay attention to and prioritize.”

He was taken aback by what you said, immediately drawing closer. “What are you saying, Y/N? You’re my sister. Nothing will change –”

“Our bond will not change, dude, but you have to admit that what I’m saying is true.” You took his hand in yours, squeezing it gently. You beamed at the fact that your fingers were structured in the same tapered manner as his. Even the shape of your fingernails were the same, just that his hands were bigger than your delicate ones. “What I’m saying is that even if you need to do that, I will be fine.”

“Of course, you will be. You’re my sister, and above that, you are your own person, and you’re stronger than you think. You’ve been handling things on your own for as long as I can remember.” He pouted, trying to act cute with you. “It’s disappointing, to be honest, because you’ve never really given me the chance to play my role in your life because you’re always the mature one.”

You were confused now. “What are you on about? You’re my only brother, but I can’t imagine anyone else holding that position in my life. You’re the best I could have asked for. I’ve always looked up to you. You’re my role model.”

“I am?”

“Yeah. The fuck are you so surprised for?” You snickered. “That aside, if you felt like I’ve been leaving you out, that’s not the intention at all. I always want you to be the first one to know what’s going on with my life…”

He clucked his tongue. “I understand you’re not doing it on purpose, kid. I’m just worried that you didn’t think I’m worth telling anything because, well, I’m not exactly a proper adult, am I?”

“You’re realizing that now that you’re about to get married?” you taunted him, jabbing your thumb towards the direction of the garden. “Should I tell Iori to call this whole thing off?”

He waved you aside. “Hey, don’t say that!”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Anyway, there’s something I wanted to tell you for a while now.”

“How long is a while, exactly?”

“Years and years.” You flashed him a rueful smile. “I just couldn’t figure out how to tell you because I am not exactly sure how you feel about it although you’ve told me many times you were opposed to it. What I’m saying it that, I know that fact, but it’s the motivation behind it that is beyond my knowledge.”

Gojo’s eyes rounded, realizing what you were saying. “Are you…”

You nodded. “Yes, I am talking about Kento.”

He just blinked and stood up, pacing around in front of you for a while that you had to stop him from doing it. He had such a bad habit of doing that when he is in deep thought, and always in front of you, too. He was making you dizzy.

You seized him by the wrist. “Please say something.”

“I…”

“Why are you opposed to it?”

He stopped pacing and faced you, taking you by the shoulders, his eyes starting to water. “Y/N…”

“Oh no, are you gonna cry?”

He furiously blinked his tears back, the action almost comical if it weren’t for the serious look on his face. “Because you are my little sister. You think it will be easy for me to just hand you over to anyone? My friends aren’t exceptions to that although I trust them with everything that I have. I will always, always worry about you when it comes to that matter because I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want you to be taken advantage of, and I don’t want to have to break either Suguru or Kento’s bones when the time comes.”

“I can manage the latter on my own.” You sighed, finding your resolve strengthening. “But like you said, I’m this old now. I want you to understand that I know what I am doing and I am confident about my decisions. Honestly, I didn’t want to talk about this as if I am asking for your permission. This is what I meant when I said I will be fine. I am not saying you don’t have a say in my life, but I am telling you this time because I want you to know before anyone else does.”

“Suguru doesn’t know?” he asked, eyes sparkling.

“Don’t be petty. I tell him things I can’t tell you just like you tell him things you can’t tell me,” but you nodded anyway. “He doesn’t know yet…I think.”

“So…you and Kento…”

You nodded again. “I’m in love with him, Satoru. And he feels the same way.”

“You are?” His expressions softened, hugging you to him. “You’ve grown. Really grown.”

You returned the gesture, holding onto him tight. “Please don’t ever think that I am leaving you out of my life because I always want to tell you everything.”

Just then, he pulled back, his brows furrowing while his eyes narrowed at you. “So, why isn’t he the one telling me this? Where is that bastard?”

You shrugged. “He wants to be here. Trust me. I just asked him if I could talk to you first because I have issues to resolve with you apart from my relationship with him.”

Gojo exhaled, nodding in understanding. “I understand, Y/N. But are you certain?”

“Yes. I’m scared of hurting him, but I’ll do my best, I guess.”

“Hmm, yeah. Maybe you should tone down on your mischief, too. I don’t want him dying of stress because of you. He’s still precious to me.”

At that, you laughed. “I know.”

He poked you on the cheek. “Alright then. If that’s what makes you happy, I won’t stand in your way. You have my blessing.” His teeth clenched then. “But I’m still going to have to talk to him man to man in case he thinks he’s off the hook.”

“Worry about your wedding first,” you jibed.

“I almost forgot about that.”

“I’m telling Iori.”

He shook his head, feigning panic. “Don’t.”

You both ended up laughing, joking about the guests who were arriving at the garden, poking fun at the relatives you both detested but had no choice but to invite. Just like that, you were back to how it used to be, easily conversing and sharing the same sentiments about things and same penchant for devilry.

Soon, the organizer came to his room, informing him that he needed to go to the garden to prepare. You reached up and fixed his tie and jacket for him, holding him at arm’s length to appreciate your handiwork. “You’re all set.”

“Thank you.” He smiled wide but you saw the nervousness in his eyes. “I’m getting married!”

“You are.”

“I’m more anxious about seeing Kento after what you told me,” he stated dramatically.

You eyed him witheringly. “Shut up and pull yourself together.”

He snickered then. “Kidding. Let’s go.”

“Okay.”

The two of you walk to the garden, your arm around his. He stood at the spot just by the last row of seats with you, grinning at you when he saw you looking at Nanami who was already dutifully standing on his spot, speaking to Geto.

“Concentrate on your vows, yeah?” you told your brother.

“I’m off.”

“In case we don’t get to talk before you leave for your honeymoon,” you began, “Just know that I am waiting for the speedy arrival of my nieces and nephews.”

Gojo laughed at that, but nodded anyway and said, “I’ll do a good job, I promise.”

“And Satoru?”

“Yeah?”

“Love you.”

“I know, kid. I know.” He turned on his heels and walked towards his place at the front pews while you watched, his steps leading you towards the very man you would want to see standing there when the time comes, his halo of golden locks bright under the setting sun but you knew your future with him would be even more brilliant.

**

The familiar bars of Johann Pachelbel’s “Canon” began to play in a modified, slowed-down wedding version made especially for Gojo and Utahime’s wedding, played on the harp, piano and violin, cueing the beginning to the entrance of the bridal entourage. It began with the entrance of the flower girls who scattered petals of different flowers on the white carpet that lined the long aisle.

Arches and bouquets of flowers festooned the garden, with gossamer cloth hanging about, interlaced with live wisteria that hung down from the canopy along with fairy lights that progressively turned on as the sky grew darker. White and pink dominated the color palette as Utahime had wished and the same goes for the reception area. It was probably one of the most beautiful wedding setups Nanami has ever seen.

But his eyes weren’t on the ornaments. They were trained on the end of the walled garden, waiting for your ascent on the marble steps where the white carpet extended, the march made more dramatic by the organizers by opting for a meandering aisle instead of the traditional, straight walkway for the bride. And it did achieve the desired effect when you finally emerged from the steps and into view.

He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips upon finally seeing you clad in that familiar faded rose gown he had first seen being fitted on you to perfection. He kissed you while you wore that very article of clothing not long ago at the couturier’s shop, and though he thought back then that he has never seen anything more beautiful, he was amazed at the fact that you looked even more gorgeous in it as you glided towards the front.

He loved you so much it hurts, and although you’ve both professed your deep affections for one another and decided to take things head on together, he still felt like he was in the middle of a dream he didn’t want to wake up from. You came closer, and once more, he was back at the semi-outdoor ballroom the first day he came that week, beholding the goddess that was you but seemingly in a different light – brighter this time, overwhelming him to the point that he had to remind himself how to breathe when you finally looked his way and beamed unabashedly, your affections towards him unmasked, real and not under the guise of a game.

“Kento,” he heard Gojo say softly just then, the man’s blue eyes furtively glancing at him.

“Yes?” he answered in hushed tones.

“Hurt my baby sister and I’ll have your severed head hung by the gates of the estate,” he said. “Are we clear about that?”

Geto snickered, concealing it by facing the other way.

“Understood,” Nanami said seriously. “I’m counting on it.”

When you were near enough, you smiled at your brother and Geto before turning your attention to Nanami. You winked at him as you passed by before turning towards your spot opposite them across the aisle, your attention trained towards the point where you came from.

He couldn’t stop looking at you, not even when he felt Gojo hold onto his arm, squeezing tight as Utahime came into view. He didn’t mean to be insulting to his friends. She was beautiful in her wedding gown and he couldn’t help but be moved by the loving look that your brother had on his face as he watched his wife-to-be come closer, guided by her father who will give her away as the sun set. It was poetic. A new beginning after a beautiful end. He probably looked the same whenever his eyes would find you.

The ceremony carried on as everyone sat down, waiting for the couple to exchange their ‘I do’s.’ their vows, rings and the much-awaited kiss. It was making him emotional, thinking of the time when he himself would draw your veil and get to claim you as his for life in front of everyone you both loved and cared about. He couldn’t wait for it, and he may be getting ahead of himself, but he wanted what Gojo and Utahime had with you.

As the minister announced the pair man and wife, everyone applauded and cheered for them. He did so, too, chuckling when Geto whistled loudly, being his cheeky self. Just then, he nudged Nanami on the side, grinning impudently.

“Is it safe to assume you’re next?” he queried in the same manner.

Nanami rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Who knows? Someone might actually steal your heart in the next months and we’ll be seeing you crying as you watch your bride walk towards you by next year.”

Geto snickered at that. “Yeah, right. You looked like you wanted to jump Y/N and replace Satoru and Iori at the altar all this time.”

“Who wants to replace my brother and sister-in-law at the altar?” they heard you say, appearing out of nowhere, your head tilted to the side as you shifted your blue orbs between the two males, but before either of them could answer, you linked your arm with Nanami who smiled down at you blissfully. You returned the gesture, your cheeks blushing prettily under the twinkling lights overhead.

“I see you’ve figured things out.” Geto smirked, patting Nanami on the back just as Shoko came into view, taking the former by the arm, claiming she needed a smoke. She pulled him away, leaving you and Nanami to yourselves, winking as they walked away.

“So, you told him?” you asked, cocking your head towards the wide lawn where the pergolas were, built on three sides of the square and closed by an elevated area for the band, all surrounding a dance floor under a huge, white tent above, also adorned with thousands of lights. It was your design, solely for the wedding reception and a form of gift to the newlyweds.

“Satoru did indirectly when he said he’ll have my head hung at the gates of Gojo Manor if I hurt you.” He shook his head, laughing slightly. “Bastard had the gall to laugh at me, too.”

“He nearly cried when I told him earlier,” you said, regaling him with how your conversation with Gojo went. “He trusts you and is actually afraid I’ll hurt you, too.”

He shook his head. “It’s all part of the process, isn’t it?”

“Mhmm.”

“We’ll take it head on.” He held your hand, twining your fingers together.

You nodded, squeezing his larger hand. “We will.”

Just then, your friends emerged from the reception area with Noabara taking the lead, mischief drawn all over her face as she approached you. “I took care of the sitting arrangement,” she said to you then turned to Nanami. “Take care of Y/N. Make her cry and –”

“You’ll have my head?” Nanami supplemented but Nobara shook her head. “I’ll tan your hide. Satoru gets your head apparently.”

At that, Nanami laughed, nodding nonetheless. But to your surprise, she also turned her attention to you, holding you by the shoulders. “Are you still playing?”

“Nope.” You pressed your lips together, shaking your head slowly.

She smiled then. “Good.” She glanced at Nanami. “You’ve got you a good one here.”

“I know.”

They left you alone after that much to his relief, but then you said, “Wanna play a game?”

His eyes rounded and he felt tension again once he heard you say those familiar words, always the preamble to every single mischievous stunt you’ve ever pulled on everyone including him. He paused and looked at you. “I thought no more games?”

You smirked at him. “One more won’t hurt.”

He sighed, giving in. “You’re going to be the death of me, I swear to god.”

“So, are you in?”

“When did I ever say no to you?”

You giggled. “Great.”

“What is it about this time?” he asked, indulging you.

“Whoever gets a rise out of Satoru first wins.”

“The stakes?”

You just winked suggestively at him.

**

You forfeited. For the first time, you lost in your own game. It counted – albeit momentary – because you initiated the game…said the very words that began everything that paved the way to the result you’ve always wanted. But you did not really consider it a loss when for the long run, you’ve gained the very person you’d always gladly lose to at any given time.

After you father offered a toast for the newlyweds, the speeches began, starting with Utahime’s parents then yours, eventually moving on to you, then the bride and groom’s shared close friends. Geto had been rather irreverent as usual, pointing out the things that both Gojo and Utahime supposedly disliked from one another yet brought them closer, making everyone laugh when Shoko came up the stage and began her speech, saying, “Opposites do attract.”

You sat on your table with Nanami, both of you waiting for your turns. He was next in line after Shoko, smirking at you as he stood up and walked towards the platform and began his piece by congratulating Gojo, “for landing a very gracious woman who has the most enduring patience I have ever known in all mankind, given the grief that Ieiri, Suguru and I had to endure before Iori came to his life.”

He continued on with his witty address, pretty much reflecting what Suguru said and entertaining the crowd enough when he started to express his gratitude. “While I know that this changes nothing between us as the best of friends – including your nature that tested one’s forbearance – I would like to say thank you for many things. Thank you because you are, well, you…” He did a dramatic eye roll.

The guests laughed.

“Thank you because you are a real person who offered friendship to quiet, boring old me,” he said, droning on about the things he appreciated about the couple before saying the things he was thankful to Gojo about. “And thank you, because without you, without our friendship, I wouldn’t have met the very person I also want to walk this earth with for the rest of my life.”

You would have fallen off your seat when Megumi playfully nudged you if it weren’t for Yuuji who also held onto your shoulders from behind your seat, shaking you excitedly.

“If it weren’t for one Gojo Satoru, I wouldn’t have met Y/N.”

You felt all eyes turn towards you, including your parents and your brother, heat suffusing your cheeks as you tried hard to keep yourself from smiling like an idiot for everyone to see. Nanami has outdone you this time, and you knew you didn’t have a chance to go against that when he had so publicly expressed how he felt about you.

“I love her with everything that I am,” he continued, “and I will continue to do so even without your threat to behead me.” He raised his glass. “To Iori and Satoru. May you have the happiest, most prosperous married life from today and for always.”

Geto whistled loudly while the guests applauded. You also stood up, clapping your hands slowly as you shook your head. You’ve lost big time, backed by the fact that your brother stood up raising his glass as he said, “I couldn’t have wished for a better future brother-in-law.” He then looked at you, smiling fondly.

Nanami got Gojo to state his approval for everyone to hear. You can’t win against that even if you nearly made the latter cry.

And now, you were just happy to be in Nanami’s arms as he swayed you both to the tune the jazz band was playing, your arms hanging around his shoulders and your fingers playing with the hair at the base of his head while he held you against him by the waist.

“So?” Nanami began. “How’s that for a final game?”

“Not bad,” you acceded, smirking at him. “I’ll admit defeat.”

“Damn right, you are.” He smiled down at you, his dark eyes reflecting the muted, xanthic lights that surrounded you. “I have a couple of things I’d want you to do for me, by the way.”

You nodded slowly, keeping a straight face at the mention of his prize. “Rules are rules.”

His brows furrowed slightly. “Then again, you haven’t told me what you wanted when you won a week ago.”

You grinned, burying your face on his chest, listening to the faint sound of his heart. “But I did get what I want.”

“And that is?”

You met his gaze from under your lashes. “You,” you stated in full confidence.

Nanami nodded, suppressing a smile. “If you say so.”

“I wouldn’t wish for anything else.” You pulled him towards you so you could peck him on the mouth. “Thank you.”

“I don’t know what for, but as always, anything for you.”

You chuckled at that. Knowing him, he’ll make good on his words for sure, so much so that you didn’t feel the least bit of worry where your future with him was concerned. “You have to learn how to say no to me.”

“I guess, but since I won, have I finally made it to the list of people you don’t mess with?” he asked.

“As promised, yes.”

“No more games?”

“No more games,” you repeated. “Although I have to say it keeps things interesting between us. Don’t you think so?”

You both dissolved in laughter, the merry mingling of your voices coming to a standstill when he bent down and cupped your cheeks, running his thumb over your cheek before staking his claim on your lips while you returned the gesture in kind, locked in each other’s arms, glad you both played the game. And won.

-THE END-

I would like to say thank you to everyone who read this and kept up with my erratic updating. It's been a good 6 weeks. Thanks!

*I used “you” here, but since my character is Gojo’s little sister who is established to be his female clone for reasons essential to the plot, she possesses the same blue eyes and white hair. I did not exactly want to create an OC (although technically, I did by describing Y/N), but I opted for the best of both worlds in this fic, leaning more towards the literary aspect of it as opposed to it just being reader/you-oriented. I hope this isn’t iffy to anyone, and yeah, i’m not being exclusive or whatever.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI'S “JUJUTSU KAISEN.” [20210814]

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

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[themurphyzone]

Nova Ch 11

AN: This is gonna be the last of the set-up chapters. The story will start snowballing (see what I did there? Heehee) from the next chapter on.

This chapter includes an art piece I requested from the talented @plutonis​, and I’m so glad I can finally show this off because it contains some very gorgeous colors.

AO3 Link

Ch 11: Spectrum 

Terran Date 2015.4.28

Yesterday, Pinky showed me one of his favorite pieces of media to thank me for the story of Heikro var Silda, even though he cried for fifteen minutes because of the tragic ending. While indeed sad, I’m proud to say I remained steadfast and controlled my emotions upon revisiting the story. And while I told him it wasn’t necessary, he insisted and I acquiesced to his demands.

That’s how Pinky introduced me to The Lion King. Once again, I remained strong even when the emotional distress threatened to override my logical mind. It was...rather difficult, I’ll admit. We watched the sequel afterward, and though I’ve created five different charts that list the plot points in order, I cannot come up with a satisfactory sequence of events that connects both movies into a cohesive narrative.

Moving onto real life matters...Pinky seems to be under the impression that I will be a permanent resident of the lab.

Celestial bodies above, what use is my intelligence if I’m trapped among heathen, dimwitted fools who can’t tell the difference between left and right! I refuse to be a lab rat, made to do the so-called dominant species’ bidding. Snowball and I shall be taking over this planet and progressing their backwards society far beyond their wildest dreams! That’s what we came here for, and I will not be sidetracked again.

As for Pinky...well, his imagination can make up some personalities for his inanimate object friends once I leave. He doesn’t have any shortage of those. The newest addition to the crew is an eraser nub with the moniker of ‘Gummy’.

Signing off for now,

The Brain

o-o-o-o-o

Brain saved the new transmission to an encrypted, password-protected file. None of the scientists were technical experts, so the odds of discovery were miniscule or nonexistent. He only had five audio files in total, a meager amount compared to the hundreds of transmissions he’d made back on New Selene. The pointer hovered over the Delete All button. He didn’t have a reason to keep making transmissions when he was leaving the lab behind in just a few days.

Still, he hesitated.

Maybe he could leave it as a memento for Pinky. But even a basic level of encryption and case-sensitive password would remain far beyond Pinky’s capabilities.

Perhaps it was best to leave the issue for another night.

He logged off the computer and joined Pinky, who’d surrounded himself with Gummy and the rest of his inanimate object friends as he played a board game called Monopoly. Though Brain had looked up the rules and goals of the game during his online session out of curiosity, he didn’t really understand the appeal or mass marketability of such an unbalanced game.

Although, given the number of different versions of Monopoly out there, creating and selling his own version of the game with the title of Brainopoly could prove to be a viable plan.

Pinky was playing as if there were four players and not just a free-for-all against a nickel, button, and eraser. It became disturbingly obvious that Pinky was either overly generous or just woefully terrible at mental math, because he continually doled out the wrong amount of money from the bank or his own meager cash pile.

And Pinky was far better off if Brain cut in now, because there was no chance that anyone else was catching up to Gummy, who owned the most lucrative properties and had the largest amount of money.

He had to stop anthropomorphizing these objects. He was starting to think like Pinky, and that was an extremely distressing thought.

“You’re losing to an eraser,” Brain said. Pinky only had a few fives in currency, and the three properties he owned were all flipped over and mortgaged.

“Yeah, Gummy’s just very good at this game! Narf!” Pinky said as he rolled the dice for Mr. Button. “It’s so nice of him to let us sleep in his Marvin Garden Apartments though. Otherwise we’d be homeless!”

“Nice indeed,” Brain replied. For his peace of mind, he didn’t dare press for more details.

Pinky threw the dice, then moved the bucket token seven spaces, landing on the Luxury Tax space. “That’ll be seventy-five dollars, Mr. Button,” Pinky said as he gathered the money, which only totaled sixty. And Mr. Button’s four properties were all mortgaged. Pinky realized this too. “Oh...you don’t have enough. Poit.”

Any normal player would’ve tossed in the towel right there, but Pinky wasn’t a conventional player by any means. He frowned, scratched his head, then picked up his own pile of fives and tossed them onto the sixty, bringing the amount to seventy-five, with two leftover fives for Mr. Button.

“You can have that, Mr. Button!” Pinky chirped as he dumped the luxury tax money in the middle of the board. “With a little more for the bus!”

Pinky had completely knocked himself out of the game.

This was supposed to be an extremely competitive game for families and seasoned professionals, right? Though the rules of Monopoly appeared confusing and controversial to most players, he was certain that nobody would willingly lose with such a reckless method.  

Well...maybe it was just a fluke. Pinky was only playing against himself, so if he wanted to give up the money to something he was making the decisions for, that was his choice.

Besides, he couldn’t watch this game much longer.

“I’ll be your next opponent,” Brain announced. He’d never played before, but the basics seemed simple enough. And the math involved was basic arithmetic he could do in his sleep. “Reset the board at once, Pinky.”

Pinky’s tail wagged as he gathered up the houses and hotels and tossed them back into the box, then settled down as he skillfully shuffled the Community Chest and Chance cards. From the way he hummed and twirled around, an outsider could easily mistake Brain for a playmate instead of an opponent.

Brain quickly read over the instruction sheet, then divided the game currency into a starting amount for himself, Pinky, and the bank.

“Can I be in charge of the property cards, Brain?” Pinky asked as he organized them by color.

“Yes, but I shall handle all other banker duties,” Brain said. “Listen closely, Pinky. I’ve looked up stories about Monopoly games going on for a long time with no definitive winner, so we’ll stop the game when one of us runs out of money, or if chance has favored you or I enough that we can place a hotel on the board.”

“Chance always has a problem with favoritism,” Pinky said as he moved the horse token to the Go space. Indeed, chance hasn’t always favored members of either of their species, but it could stand to be more merciful during a board game. He hugged the horse token to his chest. “Anyways, Pharfigtwoton is always my choice! What’s yours?”  

Brain didn’t understand how anyone in their right mind would want to play as a wheelbarrow or bucket, and the only pieces that interested him at all were the ones that resembled modes of Terran transportation. In the end, he chose the battleship.

He was tempted to call it the Conquistador Two, but he didn’t want to follow the trend of naming random objects.

“Good one!” Pinky said as he pushed the ship over to the horse token. “A gorgeous ship like this needs a name...so I hereby dub thee Battley McBattleface!”

“We’re calling it the Conquistador Two, and that’s final,” Brain snapped.

“The Conquesodor Two,” Pinky agreed.

They tossed the dice to decide turn order, and Pinky won that battle easily since Brain had the misfortune to roll double ones.

On his first turn, Pinky managed to land on St. Charles Place with a high roll. He happily shelled out the money required to buy the property. “I’m putting a nice dog park here!” he declared, placing the unused dog token in the magenta space above the property. “Now Pharfigtwoton can give rides to all the puppies!”

Brain didn’t know if Monopoly required players to create their own storyline, but it certainly made the game more interesting and baffling at the same time. He rolled the dice, sighing when he could only advance to Reading Railroad.

He hoped it wouldn’t be a trend for Pinky to receive high rolls while he was stuck in the first half of the board.

But he quickly changed his mind once he paid up for Reading Railroad and read through the card information. Just like any real life war or corporate strategy, the key to his victory would lie in controlling the flow of transportation and goods!

Pinky landed on New York on his next turn, rambling about taking all the puppies to New York for a double decker bus tour of the city as he slid a stack of bills to Brain. Brain sighed and tossed an extra twenty bill back at Pinky. He wished Pinky would pay more attention to adding properly than the make-believe puppies.

Brain rolled the dice and moved his battleship to Virginia, claiming the property so Pinky couldn’t control one-fourth of the board this early in the game.

“Brain, can I have a house?” Pinky asked as he drew a Community Chest card. He read through the card and grinned. “Awww, I got second in a beauty pageant! Thank you, everyone! It’s such an honor! Oh, and it says I also won ten dollars.”

“You don’t meet the conditions required for a house, Pinky,” Brain said, giving Pinky a ten. He didn’t care about the fake beauty pageant, just that money was either gained or lost depending on luck of the draw.

“Oh, I’ll keep them off the board,” Pinky promised. “I just want a house for Terry to live in.”

He held up the dog token, who was now apparently called Terry.

“Fine, but don’t mix your ridiculous fantasies with the board,” Brain sighed and tossed a green house at Pinky, which smacked him in the head when he didn’t catch it in time. Pinky laughed it off and coaxed Terry to stand next to the house.

Houses and hotels. His Internet searches on the Clarkes led to tons of websites on the Terran real estate market and hotel industry.

Which reminded Brain that he hadn’t shared his research into the Clarkes with Pinky yet. There hadn’t been enough time during the day, where the incompetent scientists poked and prodded them. And in Brain’s case, tried to figure out where the antennae came from.

Their hypotheses, and he was being exceedingly generous when he described their speculation and conspiracy theories as hypotheses, amounted to claiming a Terran mouse and insect had reproduced together.

“I’ve brushed up on the Clarkes so we can properly impersonate them at the party. According to-scrik!” Brain hissed under his breath when he landed on New York and had to pay Pinky.

“Sixteen please!” Pinky chirped. “All proceeds will go to buying toys and treats for good dogs in need!”

Brain grudgingly gave up the sixteen. Probability was not on his side tonight. “As I was saying before cruel fate reared its ugly head, the man I shall impersonate, Anthony Clarke, is an esteemed real estate and luxury hotel mogul, with a net worth in the billions. His success is rooted in savvy, ruthless business against competitors. It appears that he and Lamont are old college acquaintances, which we can spin to our advantage. And...yes! B&O Railroad!”  

He claimed the B&O Railroad for himself, and Pinky wrinkled his nose. “I wouldn’t ride on the Body Odor Railroad even if you pay me in cheese,” he said.

Brain rolled his eyes. “The temptation for cheese is too powerful for your empty mind and bottomless stomach.”

“You’re right, Brain. It’s too yummy.” Pinky licked his lips. “So does that make me Mrs. Zoey Clarke then? Unless he divorced her already. I haven’t kept up with them in a while.” The butler on the phone had made a similar comment, thoroughly expecting ‘Mr. Clarke’ to divorce his spouse by the end of the week.

“So you’re aware of the Clarkes,” Brain said. He rolled the dice, and chance immediately sentenced him to jail. He had to push his battleship all the way to the jail space.  

But all of this divorcing nonsense was trivial to his goals. Hardly worth a footnote.

The objective was to infiltrate the party, mingle with the guests to throw off suspicion, then steal the military weapon and take over the world, not involve himself in a Terran’s relationship drama.

“Ooh, tough.” Pinky clicked his tongue in sympathy as he bought Waterworks. “But everyone knows who the Clarkes are. Didn’t you see anything about all those divorces when you looked them up?”

“I’m more interested in his business ventures than his messy personal life,” Brain replied. “All this talk about divorce is simply incidental. But now I digress. Escaping jail so I may continue my conquering campaign is of utmost priority.”

“Doubles! Doubles!” Pinky chanted as Brain threw the dice. A two and three faced up, but no doubles. Pinky deflated, but only for a moment. Then he picked up a fifty. “Here, Brain. I’ll bail you out.”

From Brain’s brief skim over the rules, he didn’t recall a single one that allowed players to bail each other out of jail. He wanted to refuse and tell Pinky to focus on winning for himself, but obtaining Pennsylvania Railroad, which he’d missed the first time he’d passed through this section of the board, was just too tempting.  

Brain took the fifty from Pinky, put it in the bank, then moved his battleship out of jail and used his draining resources to buy Pennsylvania Railroad. Only afterward did he realize that he’d been steadily losing money every turn and hadn’t gained anything since the beginning of the game.

Contrast to Pinky, who rolled a twelve and skipped over the last fourth of the board, placing him squarely on the Go space and guaranteeing himself a free two hundred. Then he rolled a low number and bought Mediterranean.

A poor investment, given that it was hardly worth anything. But Pinky didn’t think so.

And he wouldn’t stop cooking up new fantasies either. “Now we can host a beach jubilee for your welcome home from jail party! With hot dogs and beach balls and those big umbrellas and-”

Brain lobbed the dice at Pinky so he’d quiet down and allow Brain to formulate a strategy in peace.

Perhaps a pass around the board without purchasing anything would be necessary. He had to rebuild his financial resources again. The downside was that Pinky could potentially take the spaces for himself, but it was entirely possible that he’d miss some of the open spaces too.

So he did just that, finally lucking out when a Community Chest card sent Pinky to Reading Railroad.

But Pinky was incapable of keeping his mouth shut, and soon he was back on the topic of the infamous Clarke divorces.

“-so I think Zoey is number eleven, and I know they all blend together, so when I confuse them I just remember divorce, beheaded, died, divorce, beheaded, survived!”

Brain stared at Pinky, praying to all the ancient Selenian gods nobody believed in anymore that Snowball didn’t have him take the identity of a murderer.

“Oh wait no, no...that’s King Henry, not Clarke. Must’ve mixed them up, poit. Sorry.”

Brain threw another green house at Pinky, nailing him in the shoulder. Pinky yelped, but once he realized he had another house he immediately thanked Brain because that meant Terry’s friend could move next door.

Since there was little point to dissuading Pinky entirely, Brain focused on his game strategy instead.

It was mostly repetition anyway. Roll dice, move piece, board event, repeat. Perhaps it would be considered tedious and monotonous, but the storylines Pinky improvised were what truly made it fascinating, even though Brain could only follow about half of it since Pinky created plotholes within the fantastical yet mundane place named Monopoly City faster than the speed of light.

According to Pinky, he and his sister co-ran an enormous pet supply shop attached to a humane animal shelter next door to the dog park. Meanwhile, Brain was conductor of a magical train and seeking the mayorship because the corrupt mayor was involved with an evil cigarette corporation who wanted to diabolically sell their products to innocent children.

And while Pinky certainly had a knack for improvisation, the matter at hand was that Brain couldn’t resist buying Boardwalk, but he’d used up a third of his money and Pinky wasn’t landing there to make up for the deficit. But Brain also had Baltic, the least valuable property, and Pinky had Park Place, which Brain desperately needed since neither of them had houses on the board yet.

This wasn’t going to be a fair trade for Pinky, but it was the best chance Brain had to etch out a victory. He was going for it.

“Park for Baltic so we can finally build some residences,” Brain said, sliding the card over to Pinky.

And to his surprise, Pinky jumped at the opportunity. “Sure, Brain! If you’ll trade me Oriental for Marvin Gardens. We’re gonna open a Chinatown district!”

He’d be giving Pinky control of the first quarter of the board, but the allure of the most expensive properties was far too tempting to pass up.

They swapped properties, then paused the game to set up their houses. Brain didn’t have enough money to buy houses for all his properties, so he set two houses on Boardwalk and hoped he could deal a staggering blow to Pinky’s finances. And even this decision was costly, for he only had $180 left.

Pinky set four houses on Baltic and clapped his hands together. “They’re beach houses,” he explained, and didn’t bother putting houses on the rest of his properties even though he could afford it.

Brain kept his mouth shut. Best not to give Pinky ideas. So he rolled the dice and got doubles.

Luxury Tax.

Scrik.

Now he was down to $105. But he’d pass Go on his next turn, so he could obtain an extra two hundred and hopefully skip this portion of the board.

Then he landed on Baltic.

He slowly looked at Pinky, and Brain couldn’t tell if Pinky was being perfectly innocent or just very, very good at pretending to be perfectly innocent. “That’ll be $320 please,” Pinky said.

Including the two hundred from passing Go, he’d only have a grand total of $305.

And according to the conditions he’d set, he’d lost the game through losing all his money.

“Can’t pay it,” Brain sighed. “Congratulations, Pinky. You’ve bested me.”

Pinky giggled and threw his play money in the air in celebration. “Aw, thanks for playing with me! I’ve never played Monopoly with anyone before. Never been able to get the board to Pharfignewton’s stable without the play money flying all over the street. It took me a long time to pick it all up. We should definitely do this again, Brain! Troz!”

But there wouldn’t be a next time. No matter how much he wanted to be victorious in another match against Pinky.

“Yes, we should,” Brain forced out, willing his racing heart to calm down so he wasn’t caught in his lie.

Pinky beamed, and Brain only wished it wasn’t so difficult to explain.

o-o-o-o-o

Terran Date 4.29.2015

Tonight, we shall seek appropriate outfits for the masquerade ball. I have been informed that my jumpsuit is not considered formal attire and that we will need to shop for proper clothing. However, I will be bringing my jumpsuit along since I will not return to the lab, and I require my conquering outfit to carry out our plans.

Pinky knows a place that may contain what we need. He’s spent the last two hours finishing his hat for the Kentucky Derby and has proudly shown off the finished product to me. Though I’ll admit that the result can only be considered a hat if one is generous with their definition.

I have not been able to contact Snowball. I can only assume he’s making the necessary preparations on his end.

Signing off for now,

The Brain

o-o-o-o-o

They stood in front of an enormous building with bright neon letters, impossible to miss even with his direction-challenged companion. Thankfully, it was only a few blocks from the lab. After the scientists strapped him to a machine that tested centrifugal force, he didn’t have the energy to walk much further.

“Welcome to Toyz ‘B’ We, Brain!” Pinky exclaimed, and Brain cringed at the horrendous grammar of that name. “It's the most wonderfulest toy shop ever!”

Wonderfulest wasn’t a word, but Brain was given no time to inform Pinky of that fact before Pinky dragged him to the entrance, where a large, cartoonish statue of a Terran bee stood off to the side, greeting customers with a cheerful wave of her magic wand.

“So that’s the mascot, Becky Bee,...let’s see, those are the shopping carts and the baskets and those machines that give you washable tattoos-”

“Focus on the clothing, Pinky. Not all the extraneous material,” Brain reminded him as they entered the store. Unlike their disastrous mall trip, Brain had brought along a source of money, an ACME credit card one of the scientists had carelessly left at their desk after purchasing a chair online.

They had a right to use the card as ACME employees who never got paid for their hard labor in experiments. And he promised Pinky he’d give it back once they were through purchasing the necessary items, so it didn’t catch on that pesky ‘no stealing’ radar.

Based on Pinky’s descriptions of the store, he expected an interior full of wonder, excitement, and interesting objects designed for enjoyment for young Terrans.

Instead, everything was a sterile white, yellow, or black. Rectangular kits of building blocks of all shapes and sizes sat neatly in a row, their price tags dusty as if they hadn’t been moved or cleaned in some time.

Dozens of bee models hung from the ceiling rafters, all of them sharing the exact same dead stare and pose. The whole setup was rather unnerving, and Brain averted his eyes.

He spotted two workers at the registers. They scrolled through their phones, not noticing Pinky’s cheerful greeting as he skipped past them. A third worker called out in alarm to them, and they suddenly dropped their phones and picked up rags, repetitively wiping their counters in circles in a poor attempt to appear busy.

The only one who acted like they were in a store meant for entertainment was Pinky, who oohed and ahhed and zigzagged all over the place to get a look at all the toys.

“Brain, look at this Barbie convertible! It’s so sparkly!” Pinky exclaimed before darting off to admire the box art on five-hundred piece jigsaw puzzles, then crawled onto the lowest shelf to hug a life-sized chihuahua plushie. “Narf! This one’s a cutie! And I also like the polka-dotted lizard, that green unicorn, and that rainbow koala looks really soft too-”

Brain grabbed Pinky’s tail, yanking him out of the shelf and onto the floor.

“This store’s already eroding whatever’s left of your mind,” Brain said, dragging Pinky away from the stuffed animals.

Pinky propped himself up on his elbows, humming as they passed aisle upon aisle of action figures, balls, and building blocks.

It was strange how they seemed to be the only customers here. Shouldn’t there be more snot-nosed brats running amok or haggard parents corralling them so they didn’t destroy everything with their grubby hands?

Still, perhaps he shouldn’t complain.

It was a relief that he didn’t have to worry about people trampling him underfoot for now.

But the peace didn’t last long, since Pinky suddenly peeled away in a completely different direction, forgetting that Brain was hanging onto his tail. Though he tried to dig his heels in, Pinky was too fast and the floor too slippery for Brain to bring them to a halt.

Then Pinky stopped on his own, and Brain only caught a glimpse of a metallic table leg before he crashed face-first into it, his nose smarting from the impact.

“Sorry, Brain,” Pinky said sheepishly, and there were five upside-down images of him. Brain swatted at the one in the middle, but his hand hit empty air instead. He shook his head to clear his vision, and all but the Pinky on the far left vanished.

Pinky didn’t stay put for long, darting past Brain. He hauled himself up the table leg and onto a light blue tablecloth. “You have to come up and see this, Brain!” Pinky squealed, peering over the edge of the table, his tail wagging beside him. “There’s an entire fence made of Legos here!”

Brain sighed, wondering if it was an exercise in futility to get Pinky to focus on the task at hand. “This is the last time I’ll repeat myself!” Brain shouted as he climbed up to retrieve Pinky. “We’re here for the clothes and-”

Though Brain only took fifteen seconds to ascend, Pinky managed to don a cropped, checkered top that showed off his slender stomach and a very short blue skirt in that short timeframe.

“Well, what do you think?” Pinky giggled and twirled in circles, the skirt flying in a graceful arc around his waist. “I could go square dancin’ in this, pardner! Yee-narf!”

Realizing he’d been staring at Pinky’s exposed stomach rather than making proper eye contact, Brain quickly turned away and pretended to find a row of small toy cars interesting. Next to the toy cars, there was a menagerie of small, plastic animals penned in by a colorful fence.

Part of a garden themed jigsaw puzzle served as a lawn under his feet, the pieces leading up to an enormous pink dollhouse.

Pinky took off the clothes he’d tried on, neatly threading a bent wire through the crop top and skirt and hanging them on a piece of string that served as a makeshift clothesline. There were five different clotheslines, each stocked to the brim with a variety of colorful articles.

Brain thumbed through the selection, though he didn’t feel an attachment to any of these pieces. While these clothes were designed for toys, most of them were still too big for him.

Finding something that would fit would be more difficult than he realized.

There was a large empty space past all the clotheslines, but it seemed it would be filled in soon enough. The display had all the signs of being a work in progress, and Brain couldn’t help but wonder who had the patience to put all this together. Certainly not the bored workers at the registers.

It was a welcome splash of creativity from the rest of the dull store.

“Poit. This is exactly how I imagined my dream home to be,” Pinky said in awe. He walked up to the front door and popped it open, revealing a spacious interior. Brain followed Pinky inside and they explored the first floor together, which contained a kitchen, living room, and a playroom.

“I really like the coloring on those kitchen cabinets, and the fireplace is a great touch! Very retro. And the kiddies will have a grand ol’ time in the playroom,” Pinky said as they climbed the staircase to the second floor and walked through two bedrooms and a bathroom.

“Marble countertops would make the kitchen and bathroom more refined,” Brain argued. Really, did Pinky want any visitors to think uncivilized brutes owned the house? “But the fireplace is a welcome touch.”

Pinky shrugged as they entered the master bedroom. “It’s fine as is. Now if the backyard was bigger with a dolphin-shaped swimming pool, that would be really, really amazing!”

And Brain preferred marble countertops, but since he wouldn’t be getting everything he wanted, neither would Pinky.

Brain sat on the large bed that took up half the room, the fluffy covers soft and welcoming. But they were on a mission, and future world rulers didn’t roll around on beds in an undignified manner, no matter how tempting it was.

Pinky threw open the closet doors, revealing more clothing inside. “Oh, these pajamas are lovely!” he said, pressing a yellow nightgown close to his body.

“Anything that would suit our purposes?” Brain asked. In hindsight, doing some research into what people wore for masquerade balls would’ve been helpful. He didn’t know why it slipped his mind. Perhaps Pinky’s scatterbrained traits were contagious.

“Hmmm, it’s all pajamas and casual wear,” Pinky said, flicking through the different articles. He closed the doors and reopened them, as if the formal wear would magically appear if they were out of sight. “No suits for you or the porpoises, Brain.” And he’d been so hopeful too.

“Maybe we can find something in the aisles,” Pinky said.

A sensible suggestion, for once.

Brain tried not to appear reluctant to leave the bed, but necessity demanded it. As he stood up, the fur on his neck pricked, his ears twitching towards the large window in the bedroom.

An odd sense that he was being watched came over him, and when he turned to look at the window, he saw a Terran’s eye peering into the balcony.

They stared at each other.

Then the eye blinked.

And Brain was suddenly very, very glad Snowball wasn’t here to bear witness, or he’d never hear the end of how he’d leapt onto Pinky’s back in his moment of panic.

Pinky yelped, and so did the Terran outside the window. There were several loud thuds, followed by a frantic apology.

Brain released Pinky, rubbing his face to get rid of the blush as he ran down the staircase and out the front door.

“S-sorry!” a young woman stammered as she bent down to pick up several packages of toys, only to lose her large glasses on the floor in the process. She wore the standard uniform of the store. “I didn’t think anyone would be inside! I thought one of the furniture pieces fell over, that’s all!”

Pinky hopped down from the table, picking up the woman’s glasses and pressing them into her hand. “It’s okay!” he chirped. “You scared us good, but now we can laugh about it! Oh, your name tag says Sharon! What a lovely name! I’m Pinky, that chubby alien up there is Brain, and we’re going to a party this weekend where we’ll raise awareness for the plight of frosted animal crackers!”

“That’s not the event’s objective,” Brain corrected, and he had no choice but to let Pinky come to his own conclusions. Stealing the secret weapon on Lamont property would remain classified information as promised. “And if you call me chubby again, I shall have to hurt you.”

Sharon took her glasses from Pinky with a tentative smile, then let him climb up her arm and onto her shoulder. “Zort! You have very good taste in Polly Pocket dolls!” Pinky said, peering down at the packages in her hands. “Do you collect?”

Sharon blushed. “I, um, have a lot of Beanie Babies at home. I’m not really interested in Polly Pockets, but they’d fit much better in this display than a standard Barbie.” She glanced at Brain. “I’m sorry, could you please move? I’m putting a few things in that area.”

Brain moved out of the way as Sharon carefully opened the packages. Then she placed several small tables and chairs in the empty space next to the clotheslines, bending the dolls’ legs into sitting positions and placing them on the chairs. She worked slowly and diligently, taking great caution to not knock anything over or break the items.

“Did you make all this?” Pinky asked. “It’s amazing!”

“Y-yeah, I did. The display, I mean. Not the toys.” Sharon didn’t look at Pinky as she straightened one of the Lego fences. “Store’s been on the decline, and because there’s not really much to do, I’m trying to create a few displays to generate some interest. The toys in this one were supposed to be thrown away since nobody’s buying them, even on clearance, but it just seemed so wasteful.”

She was resourceful. It was a valuable trait, but she seemed more embarrassed than anything.

“Take pride, Sharon. It’s an excellent use of parts,” Brain advised.

Pinky nodded eagerly. “And you’re saving the toys from the evil furnace! I’m sure they’re very grateful to you when you’re not looking!”

“You...you really like it?” Sharon lifted her glasses and wiped a tear from her eye. “Nobody’s ever really noticed my efforts around here.”

“Well, they should!” Pinky declared. “I’ll tell them so myself!”

Sharon smiled as Pinky hugged her face, then rejoined Brain on the table. “Thanks, but I don’t think you came to this store just to invade a toy home.”

“No, we didn’t,” Brain said, seeing his opportunity and seizing it. “We require formal clothes for a masquerade ball, and unfortunately, we haven’t seen anything of interest yet.”

“There’s plenty of interesting things in here, Brain,” Pinky said. “Like the busybody bees up on the ceiling!”

Apparently they had two very different definitions of interesting.

“Well, I can bring out some items from the back,” Sharon offered. “We had to pull the entire line of formal Zuma Ben accessories last week. Some parents found the outfits a little scandalous for their kids, so now the accessories are just going in the trash. But maybe you’ll find something to wear from the pile. Be right back, guys!” She walked away, her steps growing slightly more confident.

“Real Zuma Ben accessories?” Pinky clasped his hands to his cheek. “I’ve never worn anything like that before!”

“It’s just a name,” Brain said. He didn’t see why Pinky was treating Zuma Ben’s name like a sacred object. “As long as we’re dressed to impress, the name doesn’t matter.”

“I just think they’re pretty,” Pinky replied. “And I like looking at them, even if I can’t buy anything. Still, I’m really happy with the clothes I have now.”

But Pinky had a sizable wardrobe. Those clothes had to come from somewhere.

“So how did you obtain your clothes if you never bought them?” Brain asked.

Pinky smiled. “The scientists. They’ll drop clothes into my cage, which is really nice of them! One time, I put on this pretty sundress they gave me and I started itching really bad. I was jumping around like a tiny monkey and I managed to make them all laugh! I must’ve been quite the sight!”  

Pinky laughed at the memory, but Brain was more disturbed at how the blatant act of humiliation didn’t affect him in the slightest. Then the laugh faltered and restarted at a higher pitch.

No, that initial assessment was wrong. True, Pinky could withstand many things, but not even the most resilient being could tolerate the sound of mockery for long.

Should he say something? Was an ‘I’m sorry’ sufficient? Was there any act of comfort that didn’t involve unnecessary physical contact?

Brain wanted to be decisive, but dozens of scenarios played out in his head, and none of them led to a satisfactory outcome. Tell Pinky to cease his laughter, embrace him, talk about the weather. He didn’t know.

Emotions led to nothing but trouble.

“Quit staring,” Brain snapped when Pinky wouldn’t stop watching him like he wanted something.

Pinky’s ears fell, but Sharon came back before the pang of guilt could fully settle in Brain’s stomach.

“Thanks for waiting, guys,” Sharon said as she dumped the accessory packages onto the table. “See anything you like?”

“All of them!” Pinky declared, happily tossing a three-pack of formal dresses into the air. He tried tearing it open, but the packaging wouldn’t give. Sharon helpfully tore it open for him, and Pinky made a happy, grateful sound before pulling a sparkly purple dress over his body. He twirled around. “So how do I look?”

“Lovely,” Sharon giggled as she pulled out her phone. She set it against the Lego fence, allowing Pinky to see himself in the camera app.

“I’ll put this as a maybe,” Pinky said. “But I have to give all the dresses a chance too!”

He tried four other dresses on in quick succession, and all of them went into the maybe pile.

Meanwhile, Brain searched through his choices of men’s formal wear. He wanted the best possible option for successful infiltration, but he didn’t know much about Terran fashion. His nose wrinkled at a powdered blue suit with far too many ruffles. He was fairly certain that wouldn’t garner respect on any planet, so he pushed the offending pack away from his other options.

The pure white suit would get stained too easily. He needed something darker. That one was out.

“Hey Brain, what about this one?” Pinky asked. He now wore a long sleeved lime green dress, which Brain found extremely tacky and unappealing to the eyes. Not even Pinky could salvage that monstrosity. Yet in Pinky’s hands, there was a black suit with a white shirt underneath. Not extravagant by any means, but since the coloration was similar to his conquering attire, it was the most probable choice by far.

But while Pinky was comfortable with changing in front of others, Brain wasn’t so keen on the idea.

“I require privacy,” Brain said. He took the suit from Pinky and went inside the house, shutting the door behind him and ensuring the shutters were closed.

Then he removed his gloves and jumpsuit, shivering from the cold air as he laid the items over a chair. He put on the new set of pants first, then the white collared shirt, and finally buttoned the jacket over his abdomen.

Well, it was comfortable. And it hid most of his stomach too, which was also a positive. But he needed to see how it looked in the light before making a judgment call, so he rejoined Pinky and Sharon, who were playing with different filters on her phone while Pinky wore a magnificent feathery pink dress.

“Now you really look like a flamingo,” Sharon laughed as Pinky changed the filter to sepia, the image now different shades of tan. Pinky blew a kiss to the camera. “This one’s my favorite so far,” Pinky declared with a graceful curtsey.

And the sleeveless feathery dress did seem to match his personality much better than all the other dresses. Flamboyant and quirky, but inviting and friendly as well. A darker pink feather boa was draped over his shoulders, and purple feathers fanned out from the back of his neck. A light green choker was wrapped around his neck. Then Pinky added a matching headband with a light pink tuft to complete the ensemble.

“That will certainly make an excellent first impression on the partygoers,” Brain said.

Pinky changed the phone filter back to normal with one hand, playing with the feather boa in his other. “Egad, you really think so?” he exclaimed. “Hold on a sec, Brain. Where’s the rest of your outfit?”

“Rest of?” Brain echoed. “This doesn’t require anything else.”

Pinky shook his head and dug a red bow and matching sash out of the clothes pile. “You need a few splashes of color, Brain! Or you’ll just end up a sad wilty wallflower!”

“They’d really match your circles,” Sharon added.

Well, he’d always looked good in red. It was a bold, attention-grabbing color.

Brain draped the sash over his shoulder and fastened the bow around his ear, checking himself over in Sharon’s phone. Then Pinky and Sharon started giggling for some odd reason.

“What?” Brain asked. He was presentable at a formal event now, wasn’t he?

“You’re kinda wearing it wrong,” Sharon admitted.

His ears flattened from embarrassment. Selenians typically wore practical jumpsuits with minimal accessories, and none of their databanks ever mentioned Terran outfits. They must’ve found it unimportant.  

“Don’t worry, Brain. It’s an easy fix! May I?” Pinky exclaimed.

Brain nodded his permission, and Pinky removed the bow from Brain’s ear and carefully fastened it underneath his collar, taking great care to not pull the bow too tightly around his neck.

“So this isn’t a sash. It’s a cummerbund and you wear it around your stomach,” Pinky explained as he demonstrated the proper way to wear it. It was relieving to know Terrans made accessories that would hide the slight bulge, and Brain donned the cummerbund correctly.

The accessories really did match his orbs. For the first time, he was dressed to the nines and it was a glorious feeling indeed.

“Aw, you’re both so spiffy!” Sharon exclaimed. “Mind if I put a photo of this on the Twitter page to boost some interest?”

“We’ll return the favor,” Brain said. She deserved some reward for helping them out anyway.

Sharon turned her phone around, ready to snap the picture when Pinky suddenly darted out of frame. “Hold on! Narf!” he cried, shoving a small blue butterfly-themed mask into Brain’s hands and flipping a pink feathery mask over his face. “It’s a masquerade ball, you know!”

While Brain’s mask only covered the area around his eyes, Pinky’s face was mostly hidden by his birdlike mask, leaving only his bright blue eyes exposed.

“Doesn’t that tickle?” Brain inquired as Pinky stretched his boa out for a picture.

Pinky shrugged. “A little. But I don’t mind!”

“Smile for the camera, you guys!” Sharon grinned.

Brain didn’t smile, but he stood in front of the toy house while Sharon snapped pictures and Pinky struck a different pose with every shot.

Pinky’s laughter rang joyously in Brain’s ears.

He would leave that sound behind in just a few days. But it was a small price to pay for the world.

End AN: Maybe this chapter is a little disjointed, but oh well. Sharon is based off the toy store worker who helps the mice in Brain’s Night Off. 

I tried to do the math for the Monopoly game and even pulled out my Monopoly property cards so I could get the amounts correct, but if anything is inaccurate I am hereby excused from responsibility because I am a writer and not a mathematician. Yes i use that excuse every time but it’s true. 

Brain's outfit comes from the tuxedo he wore in the reboot's Future Brain episode. Pluto designed Pinky's outfit herself (somehow we both were thinking lots of pink feathers for Pinky) and deserves all the credit for it cause it's so beautiful. I chose a butterfly mask for Brain and a flamingo theme for Pinky.

#pinky and the brain #patb fanfiction #patb nova

[gravelyhumerus]

Criminal Minds College AU - Chapter Seventeen

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Title: “I may just take your breath away”

Relationship: Jemily

Summary:

Exams, pizza, board games... what more could a girl ask for?

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months.

Read it on AO3

Tumblr:  One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty

 “That was a lot of chess,” Emily complained, nearly chugging her latte as she and Spencer left the coffee shop. 

She pulled her beanie onto her head and braced herself for the snow as the taller boy held the door open for her. Emily almost slipped on the slushy tile floor on her way out but managed to keep her balance. 

“Fifteen of the multiple-choice questions to be precise,” Spencer replied. The salted sidewalk crunched under their feet as they made their way across campus. 

“I’m so glad it’s finally over,” she admitted. “I think I’ve had enough philosophy to last me a lifetime.” 

“I’m enrolled in ‘Minds and Machines’ next semester,” he said. “I think I might try and get a double minor this time around.”

“What’s the goal? Three PhDs by the time you’re 24?” Emily quipped. 

He was well on his way, having completed his engineering degree before she managed to graduate high school. He was 17, only two years younger than her, but somehow seemed like a kid. A kid with more education crammed into his brain than she could ever master in her life.

“Something like that,” he replied with a smile. His hair was getting long and he had tied it back during the exam. With last names starting with P and R, they were seated near each other in the large exam hall, and she glanced over at him as he fussed with his hair. 

They stopped at the red light, watching as the cars and busses wooshed past them, sending the slush flying into the snowbanks. It had been a fairly sunny day, but bitterly cold. Now, the sun was setting and the campus was bathed in a warm golden glow. The snow had fallen the night before, leaving fluffy white snow covering their campus. 

Emily had spent most of the day holed up in the library with Spencer, with him quizzing her on fallacies and philosophers. With his eidetic memory, he only really needed to read the material once. Earlier in the semester, she did feel useful when it came to editing each other’s essays. He always got bogged down with detail, word vomiting everything he knew, and she helped him with his structure and argumentation. 

More studying awaited her back in her room. She rubbed at the back of her neck as she thought about the upcoming evening spent hunched over her desk studying criminal justice, a subject that left her questioning her degree half the time as she was forced to learn about the muddled ethics of justice. 

That week, she had survived on minimal sleep, eating mostly bagels and coffee to sustain her. Her body was protesting with each step, and she had suffered from a constant tension headache for as long as she remembered. At least her college had that golden retriever walk around at the library yesterday, she thought to herself, sarcastically. Animal therapy definitely relieved all her stress. As if petting a dog for five minutes would fix the anxiety of finals season. 

Two more exams, she reminded herself. You’ll make it. 

Despite this mantra, Emily was conflicted. While finals were killing her, the end of the semester also meant winter break. Emily would be forced to go “home” for the holidays. For most college students, that meant going back to their respective towns and being surrounded by their loved ones. Emily, on the other hand, didn’t have anywhere she called home. Last winter break, her mom had at least been in DC, and Emily was able to catch up with some of her international school friends who were in the city. This time, her mom was stationed in London, and Emily knew she’d be roped back into her old life. She didn’t know anyone there and knew most of her break would be spent alone. 

The last place she had called home was Rome, and now that was tarnished by her complicated past with that city. 

Emily was good at being alone. Being an only child of a workaholic single mom meant she learned to keep her own company. She read a lot. She got good at running away, escaping her nannies, and skirting security in order to roam free. She’d be fine. 

The problem was that Emily had gotten used to this. She rarely spent a moment alone these days. Whether it was walking to class with Spencer, or Hotch, or Derek, getting lunch with the team, surprise coffee dates with Penelope and spending almost every evening with her girlfriend, she hadn’t been left alone in ages. She didn’t miss it. 

Their residence building had a warm yellow light shining out of the windows and a soft red brick facade. In the summer, ivy grew up the south facing side but in the winter, the ledges were covered in snow and the stone steps were slippery. She trudged forward, excited for the warm embrace of the dorm. 

Spencer had other plans. He reached into the garish yellow plastic newspaper box that was stationed next to their doorway and retrieved this week’s newspaper. 

“Come on Reid,” Emily said. “Just subscribe to the newsletter or something like the rest of us.”

He held up the cover to her in surprise. Usually it reported the news of a recent sports victory, or a change of policy announced by the administrators, or even a fun event held on campus. Sometimes there was even a dramatic protest or an important speaker coming to campus. But this week, the headline surprised her. In large font printed across the page read: “Multiple student politicians fired amid financial scandal.” 

“That sounds bad,” Emily said. It did seem way more dramatic on newsprint than on a website, so maybe Spencer was onto something with his affinity for the printed word. 

Grabbing a copy for herself, she then walked inside to escape the cold. Warm air greeted them as they entered their residence hall, and both students kicked the snow off their boots before trudging up the stairs. They read as they walked, but the route to their rooms was already muscle memory, so neither worried about stumbling on their way. 

Normally, Emily wouldn’t willingly touch this sort of student politics with a ten foot pole. Sure, she was involved with the Criminology council, but there was a difference between the kind of person interested in petitioning for better accessibility to faculty events or running a bake sale, and the kind of students to embezzle thousands of student dollars like what the current student government executive seemed to be accused of doing. 

She quickly ran her eyes down the page, the contents jogging a memory from Halloween, of Hotch and JJ discussing the early stirrings of said scandal. 

“You know,” Spencer said, “I’m surprised they got a lot of this information, it’s notoriously difficult to file FOIAs for student governments, as they’re technically private corporations. So the fact that they got these files means that this is a much bigger scandal than one might assume.”

Corruption, bribery, embezzlement, nepotism. All words that jogged memories of hiding in the corner of political fundraisers, overhearing the worst of politics from too-drunk elites sipping on their wine and munching on charcuterie. 

“I hate politics,” Emily said, stuffing her copy of the paper into her bag. 

“I find it interesting. It’s basically a microcosm of our current political climate. In fact, I have subscribed to the print edition of fifteen student papers in the region,” Spencer said, “I like to keep informed on the coverage of student issues, and compare them to our own.”

“Why?!” Emily said with a laugh. “You know you can just look them up online.”

Spencer gave her a withering look, and she should have known better than asking about his aversion to tech. He loathed having to use his computer, as the LCD screens apparently gave him a headache. Penelope even gave him a pair of blue light glasses to attempt to alleviate the issue.

Then, he began to speak, at length, about the dying printed news industry and why print copies were better for understanding than screens et cetera. She made sure to nod and hum at appropriate points, but her mind kept wandering. 

She wondered if her girlfriend was in her room. Emily missed her any time they were apart and she yearned to hold her in her arms once again. But she shouldn’t. She needed to work. She had too much to do. Her grades had slipped, slightly, this semester. Everyone warned her about how college would be harder than high school, but no one ever warned her how much the expectations were raised in second year. 

Two more exams. She clutched her coffee tighter. She’d rather do anything else besides study at this point. Her body was exhausted, her mind frazzled. She wondered if she could even manage to get through a chapter of revision before conking out on her desk. 

As she said goodbye to Spencer and struggled with her keys that were tangled up in their corresponding university-branded lanyard, JJ’s door opened.  

“Hey girlfriend,” JJ greeted her, sounding way too much like a straight girl greeting her platonic friend for Emily’s taste. She gave her a pass because it sounded cute in her voice. 

“JJ!” Emily said, somehow surprised to see her despite the fact that she lived right across the hall. Her girlfriend was dressed in sweatpants and an oversized sweater, with her straight hair tucked behind her ears and her face bare of make up. Her face was lit up with a smile, and Emily rushed towards her, planting a soft kiss on her lips.

“Hi JJ,” Spencer said as Emily and JJ kissed. 

When they pulled apart, JJ gave Spencer a smile as a greeting and asked them how their exam went. 

Spencer babbled about their Logic exams for a minute or two, as Emily basked in JJ’s presence. She grabbed onto her hand and found that it was so much hotter than her own and wasn’t sure if she held on tight because she was cold, or if she had missed her girlfriend. 

“I’m just glad it’s over,” Emily said. “I never want to hear about fallacies again.”

Spencer seemed to want to say something, but fell silent at Emily’s tired expression. 

“Wanna come in for a bit?” JJ whispered in Emily’s ear. Apparently she said so a touch too loud because Spencer replied instead. 

“Sure!” he said, and then walked into JJ and Penelope’s room. 

“I should really study,” Emily tried to argue, but a single glance into JJ’s deep, blue eyes had Emily melting. 

JJ’s room was much messier than Emily had last seen it. Both desks showed clear markers of the ongoing exams, with papers and books piled high. In addition to this was an assortment of pillows strewn all over the floor.

“You guys are back early!” JJ said, after checking her watch, “I thought it was a two hour exam?”

“I finished in an hour,” Spencer said, “and Emily only needed an extra half hour on top of my time.”

Damn straight, Emily thought, feeling somewhat competitive with the boy-genius despite herself. 

She really should study, but the prospect of seeing her girlfriend outweighed the desire to sit hunched over a textbook for another evening. 

Emily and Spencer kicked off their boots, placing them neatly on the mat by the door before peeling their jackets off and hanging them on the back of her door. Emily wasn’t sure if she liked winter. Whenever her mother was stationed in the Middle East she yearned for snow, but now that she was experiencing the Nor’easter for the first time, the desert sounded like a good time. 

“Well there goes my plan,” JJ said, blowing her hair out of her face with a puff of air.

Spencer flopped onto Penelope’s neatly-made bed, collapsing into the assortment of pink pillows while carefully keeping his take-away cup upright. Emily sat down next to JJ on her bed.

“Your plan?” Emily asked. 

“Yeah,” JJ said, sounding a bit shy. “I had this whole plan to make up a blanket fort here for you, and I would surprise you with it when you walked in.’”

JJ gestured with her hands at the mess. Blankets and pillows were strewn about, and a bundle of fairy lights were laying in the middle of the floor. 

“Then you came back early,” JJ concluded. “Spence, I thought you’d keep her occupied longer!”

“You didn’t tell me that,” he replied. Spencer looked quizzically at her, shrugged, then took another sip of his coffee.

“I just wanted us to have a cute date night,” JJ admitted. “I know you’re so stressed, and you deserve a break.” 

Emily grabbed her girlfriend’s moving hands and held them in her own. She felt overwhelmed. JJ was so… thoughtful. Caring. Attentive. So many things that were absolutely foreign to Emily. No one had ever tried to impress her like this. 

“It’s okay,” Emily said. “We don’t need anything special to have a cute date night. You’re cute enough.”

JJ gave Emily a goofy smile in response. 

“Okay,” JJ said. “If you say so.”

“You’re building a blanket fort?” Spencer asked. “I actually have some experience with blanket fort architecture.”

“You do?” JJ asked, raising her eyebrows skeptically.

“Of course,” he replied, seeming almost offended that she questioned him. “It sparked my interest in engineering. I wanted to overcome the problem of chair-tippage when it came to building the structure, so I devised a system of counter-weights that I found increased the structural integrity by 53%. My mom always told me that I could be an architect, but I thought the sciences better suited my intellect.”

“Oh?” Emily asked, genuinely interested. How would someone measure the structural integrity of a blanket fort? 

“Actually, I have some blueprints. Let me grab them,” he said, standing up and making a move for the door. 

“Of course you have blueprints,” JJ laughed. 

“I should probably go feed Gideon, anyway. I’ll be right back!” Spencer  said. Before closing the door behind him.

“Gideon?” Emily asked. 

“His fish,” JJ said, “the one he won at the fair. It’s named after his professor, I think.”

She shrugged. The kid was weird, they tended to just accept that. 

“I guess Spencer’s joining us on date night,” JJ said. “Sorry. I know you’re stressed and probably want to be studying, but I thought we’d order pizza and just have one night off. Just us. And Spencer.”

JJ planted a firm kiss on Emily’s lips, leaving her dazed and blushing. 

“Relaxing sounds perfect,” Emily said, pulling her girlfriend closer to her. “I can’t believe it’s already exams. This semester has flown by. Soon it’ll be winter break, and I won’t get to see you.”

“I can’t imagine you not being right across the hall,” JJ said. “Who will give me kisses when I want them?”

JJ kissed Emily, sucking on Emily’s bottom lip slightly before pulling apart to look at her. 

“I know you’re joking, but I hope you’re not kissing anybody else, no matter the circumstances.”

With that established, Emily pounced on her girlfriend, pushing her onto her bed and kissing her deeply. She intertwined her fingers in the blonde locks that were splayed out in a golden halo and breathed in deep, taking in the warm scent of the lilac candle that burnt on her night side table. 

All her worries melted away at JJ’s touch. Emily’s brain was filled with the feeling of JJ’s lips on hers, with her lithe form beneath her. Exams, student politics and thoughts of home were wiped away, and her stress faded into background noise. 

JJ’s pliant form writhed under Emily’s, her hands sneaking below Emily’s sweater and dancing over her back. They deepened the kiss until they were making out like teenagers in JJ’s dorm with the door still open a crack. 

This was how Spencer, accompanied by Derek, found them when they pushed open the door with blanket fort blueprints and bags of potato chips in hand. 

Spencer made a surprised noise, which made Emily aware of his return. She jumped up and pulled apart from JJ with a dark red blush gracing her cheeks. 

“Woah there ladies,” Derek said with a laugh. “Keep it in your pants!”

“Guys! I was gone for five minutes!” Spencer whined. 

Emily stood up awkwardly, stuffing her hands in her pockets as she watched JJ sit up and pat her hair down in a huff.

“Sorry,” Emily grumbled, not really meaning it. She would never be sorry for kissing JJ, but she was sorry for the awkwardness

“Pretty boy dragged me down the hall,” Derek said in explanation. He had Spencer’s rolled-up fort plans in his hand, and lightly smacked Emily’s head with it, making a comedic thwap noise as it made contact. “Hope you weren’t in the middle of something?”

“Only JJ’s legs,” Emily quipped to everyone’s surprise, even her own. JJ hit her jokingly and blushed. 

“Hey!” Derek laughed, “Let’s keep this PG!”

“You called?” The voice of Penelope Garcia—PG if you will—rang out from the hallway, and within seconds JJ’s room was filled with just about all their friends standing around in a slightly awkward silence: JJ, Emily, Spencer and Derek were joined by Penelope with Hotch in tow. 

The latter two of them had grown closer recently and walked into the room with white shopping bags with the walrus logo printed on the side, looking like they had just returned from out in the cold. Penelope and Hotch going thrifting together, that’s new! Emily thought to herself and decided to file the observation for later. The image of Hotch watching Penelope’s customary fashion show was enough to make her laugh under her breath. 

“We’re building a blanket fort,” Spencer announced, changing the subject to the task at hand. “Are you guys helping?”

“Oh you know I will, boy genius,” Penelope said with an excited smile. 

Emily looked over to her girlfriend. So much for date night.

———

Without much questioning about why they were building a blanket fort, the team got to work. In college, sometimes things just happened. Impromptu blanket forts were par the course. In their defense, any excuse to not spend the evening burying their heads in textbooks was a welcome reprieve. 

It started with just a few blankets draped in the space between JJ and Penelope’s beds, but with Spencer’s instruction, a verifiable architectural marvel began to take shape. 

While Emily knew that Penelope would be all gung ho for this sort of project, it was certainly amusing to see Hotch in his khakis and dress shirt crawling around on the floor like a child with the rest of them, tying off blankets and very seriously maneuvering the different parts of the structure. 

Sheets were draped here and there, tied together to form ceilings and walls. Two chairs stolen from the common room, loaded with backpacks on the seat for support acted as the entrance to the fort. 

While it was crawling space only, Emily had to note that there was a sense of awe when you emerged into the open space of the main fort-area. It was surprisingly big, fitting all six of them with ease. The key to the whole design was a curtain rod Hotch had stolen from the boys shower that lifted the roof up. 

The design was strangely reminiscent of Baroque architecture, which she was sure was due to Spencer’s designs. This was a fact that Emily kept to herself. She always tried to rein in the ‘I lived abroad’ conversation points so her childhood could remain under minimal scrutiny.

Emily’s exhaustion transformed into excitement as she relished the time hanging out with her friends. Music played from Penelope’s computer as they worked, they began to work as a cohesive group, each member doing their share. It was nice to do something besides sit at her desk and obsess over memorizing facts and statistics, or figuring out the proper argumentation for an essay on a subject. Making sure that a bunch of blankets didn’t crash onto them was treated with the utmost seriousness, and the whole group was focused with intense concentration at their own tasks. 

Spencer did, in fact, have literal sketches of blanket forts in his notebooks, but the details of which were fairly incomprehensible to her. While she believed that he did the math, his chicken scratch was just about indecipherable, and his drawing was little more than a few shapes on a page. Despite this, it was laid out on the centre of the dorm-room floor for them to reference. 

At one point, as Emily stood on JJ’s wheely chair, she feared that the fort had all come crashing down as she lost her balance and grabbed at the blankets to stop her fall before tumbling onto Derek with a yelp. 

“Sorry,” she muttered as she climbed back onto her feet and fought off the blanket that had wrapped her in a shroud. 

She flinched as she realized she had ruined it all, a pit forming in her stomach. She looked at her friends in concern, but instead of yelling at her for her mistake, or shunning her for ruining it for the rest of them, they smiled at her and helped her up.

“It’s okay!” Spencer said cheerfully. “I know exactly how to reinforce that wall.”

“You okay, Emily?” Hotch asked, righting the wheely chair as JJ fretted over her. 

“I’m good,” she answered, still confused as to why they weren’t mad at her. 

Instead of making a big deal over the set back, they went back to work. Soon, the fort filled out and it returned to its former glory. Arguably, better than it was because they had draped fairy lights throughout the inside, making the space glow with a warm orange light. 

Inside was filled with pillows and big enough for all of them to sit comfortably so it was a comfy lounge space. It was cozy and warm, the antithesis of the bitterly cold night air outside. 

“You know what?” Hotch said. “This is a damned good fort, Reid.” 

The group muttered in consensus. They all had piled into the space, and as the excitement wore off, Emily was wondering what happened next. What does one do in a blanket fort? She had vague memories of building one in her room, but she had just sat inside and read a book. 

“I hear the RA’s storage room has a ton of board games,” Penelope said. “They pull them out for socials and stuff.”

“That’s all well and good, but we’re not asking Strauss to let us in,” Derek argued. “I still think she thinks we were responsible for that fire alarm last week. She’s been giving me the evil eye ever since.”

“Who said we had to tell her?” Emily said. “We could just… borrow… them…”

“I mean, they are for us to use, anyway.” JJ’s eyes had a mischievous look in them as she looked at Emily.

“That is true,” Hotch said, the scowl that was usually a fixture on his face turning to a smirk. 

“That’s stealing, guys,” Spencer warned, as if they didn’t already know that. 

“We’ll give them back,” Emily said with a shrug. “Come on!”

Penelope led the way to a dark wooden door on the main floor, it was labelled simply “Storage,” but the computer science student assured them that it was where the RA’s stored all of their supplies.

“It’s locked,” Penelope huffed.

“Do you have a bobby pin?” Emily asked her in a hushed voice. She wouldn’t have gotten this far if she hadn’t learned how to pick simple door locks. She had trouble with deadbolts but a simple latch she could probably do within a couple of minutes.

The blonde pulled a hot pink bobby pin out of her perfectly curled hair. Emily snapped it into two, bending one end into a longer L-shape. Sticking that into the bottom of the lock and holding it in place, she used the other side to feel for the pins that held the lock in place. 

Emily could feel all eyes on her as she confidently knelt in front of the doorknob, the group keeping watch for her as she worked. No one questioned how or why Emily knew how to do this. She had her reasons. 

This definitely broke all sorts of residence rules and if they got caught, they knew they’d get into shit, but no one seemed to care that much. They just wouldn’t get caught. 

After a couple minutes, Emily’s hands began to sweat. What if she couldn’t do this anymore? She tried to centre herself. She had made it through infinitely more stressful situations in the past. It was the eyes of her friends on her that made her nervous. She was finally accepted by a group, and she desperately didn’t want to let them down. 

Then, it clicked, and she was able to turn the brass knob easily. Emily made a noise of excitement, got to her feet and yanked the door open. 

Instead of an empty storage closet, on the other side of the door was Erin Strauss, their RA, in a passionate embrace with David Rossi. Her shirt was unbuttoned and he was in the middle of sucking on her neck. 

“Dave?!” Hotch called out, startling the couple. 

Both groups stood stock-still, neither knowing what to say. While Emily had hid the bobby pins, she wasn’t sure who was in more trouble, them for breaking into the room or their RA for using the space for unofficial purposes. 

The room was small and cramped, with a pile of poster board mostly obscuring the one small window that lit the space. Strauss had been hoisted onto the desk, her legs straddling the other student. Emily could see a shelf filled with the board games stacked on the left side of the room, but they seemed unimportant at the moment. While Emily had known about their illicit love affair, she had never expected to see it in action. 

“Hey guys,” Rossi said after a moment, his unwavering confidence carrying on to this moment as he pulled apart from Strauss, who was furiously buttoning up her shirt and trying to sort herself out. 

“What are you all doing in here?” she demanded, standing up and putting her hands on her hips. “This room’s meant for RA’s only.”

“Well,” Emily said, startled by her own audacity, “Dave isn’t an RA so…”

“We just came for some board games,” JJ said in her most diplomatic voice, despite clearly wanting to laugh at the situation, “then we’ll be off.”

“Take them and go,” the RA said in a strangled voice, her face beet-red and as she avoided eye contact like it was the plague. 

Clearly not as embarrassed as Strauss, Rossi simply smirked, collected a few board games into his arms off of the shelf, then deposited them into Emily’s arms. 

Realizing that given the circumstances, they couldn’t be picky with their choices, the stunned group thanked him then scurried away, back upstairs with their loot. The silence remained until they made it back to their floor, where they all burst into laughter.

“What on earth was that?!” Derek exclaimed. 

“Rossi and Strauss,” Spencer muttered. 

Emily and JJ made eye contact, remembering all those weeks ago when they had caught their friend emerging from the RA’s room down the hall in the middle of the night. They had known that Rossi and Strauss had hooked up that night, but had no idea that it was a whole relationship.

“I see it,” Hotch commented. “I mean, I don’t know your RA too well, but Rossi likes a woman with authority.”

Derek and Emily fake-gagged in an exaggerated manner at the comment. 

“I think I need to bleach my eyeballs after that display,” Emily muttered. 

“Ooo-kay!” JJ said, pointedly changing the subject. “It seems like we have most of the pieces to Clue… I think we could manage a game of that. We also have Scrabble, Yahtzee and Snakes and Ladders. Uh… also a pack of cards.”

“At least it’s not chess,” Emily said, thinking about her seemingly endless exam that afternoon. 

“Agreed,” Spencer said. 

“We do not have chess, no,” JJ said with a quizzical laugh. 

———

After ordering a couple of pizzas to the dorm, they all settled in to play a board game. After a few minutes of debate, they decided to play Clue (or Cluedo as Emily continuously referred to it as). The board was laid out: it was vintage, with a teal and yellow colour scheme and some scuffs and rips showing its age. In their blanket fort, they were seated in a circle, all secretly looking at their Clue cards.

“Can I be Professor Plum?” Spencer asked before they had even gotten the pieces out of the box. 

“Of course pretty boy,” Derek said, “I’ll take Mr. Green.”

“My sculpted god of thunder looks excellent in green,” Penelope flirted, choosing the white piece for herself. 

“Did you know that in the original version of Clue, Mr Green was a Reverend, but they changed his name for American audience because they believed that the American public would object to a parson as a murder suspect?”

“Good thing you’re on our trivia team, Reid,” Hotch replied.  

Emily was Miss Scarlet, of course, and was seated right next to JJ, who had chosen to portray Mrs. Peacock. Hotch claimed the remaining piece: Colonel Mustard.

Emily loved board games. Her nanny in France, who was a kindly elderly woman that Emily only knew as “Madame,” would play with her each Sunday after church. She has hazy memories from that time, but the warm glow of sunlight streaming into their Parisian apartment as she learned how to play Cluedo. Emily would always try to cheat, but knew better than to try to do so with her immensely observant girlfriend seated to her left, JJ’s hand resting casually on Emily’s thigh.

She looked at her cards and grinned. She had been dealt her own character, she noted, as Miss Scarlet’s name was printed in bold on the top of her first card. It felt weirdly validating to know that she herself was innocent. Also in her hands were the cards for the candlestick and pistol, as well as the observatory. She marked these off of her card and tried to gauge her opponents' reactions. 

JJ was checking her phone with her cards face down, tracking the pizza’s arrival. Spencer was sprawled back, his long legs taking up way more room than was necessary, jotting down notes on some scrap paper. Presumably some statistics and probability for the possibilities of the cards that were sealed in the envelope in the centre of the board. Penelope smiled over at Derek and flirtatiously tried to sneak a peek at his hand. 

After the initial rounds being dedicated to moving around the board, Emily finally made it into her first room: the lounge. There, she decided on her first suggestion.

“I suggest,” Emily said, in her most dramatic, formal voice, which was particularly suited to the role of Miss Scarlet, “that Mrs. Peacock committed this heinous crime in the Lounge with-” she hurriedly grabbed the candlestick, “the candlestick!”

She knew that it wasn’t the correct weapon, but using it would narrow it down to someone ruling out either JJ’s character or the lounge as the scene of the crime. 

“Moi?!” JJ said, sounding almost offended at the accusation. “Your own girlfriend?!”

Emily grinned evilly at her, but internally she felt giddy. It was the first time she heard JJ use that word in front of their friends. JJ moved her piece into the Lounge. The others chuckled lightly at their antics.

“You have no alibi for the crime, Mrs. Peacock,” Emily said, “and I am merely making a suggestion.”

JJ glared at her, but said nothing. Emily turned to Derek, who was seated at her left. 

“What do I do?” Derek asked, looking around the room, slightly confused. 

“Do you have any of those cards?” Hotch asked. 

“Yeah-” Derek said, moving to show his hand. 

“No!” Penelope stopped him. “Just show one of your cards to Emily if you can prove her suggestion was wrong.”

He made an “o” with his mouth and sneakily showed Emily the Lounge card. Emily noted that, and that it was Derek’s card. Mrs. Peacock had yet to be proven innocent, and Emily gave JJ a suspicious glance. 

She loved this game. 

As the game progressed, Emily noted a few things about her opponents. A part of Emily was profiling her friends subconsciously, reading each of their strategies like a book. 

Penelope always seemed to luck out on her dice rolls, covering a lot of terrain and gathering information like it was a cup of tea. But, she seemed to take it personally when someone accused Mrs. White of having killed Mr. Boddy and gasped every time someone made that suggestion. 

Hotch seemed to take the game very seriously, and was at it like he was an actual police officer solving crime. But, it didn’t seem that he completely understood all of the rules, and definitely hadn’t played before, so he spent most of his turn grumbling as he skimmed the rule pamphlet. 

Spencer, on the other hand, had memorized the rules, common strategies and probabilities of the different outcomes, so Hotch often looked over to him nervously as the boy wrote longhand equations in the notebook that he pulled out of his bag for the very occasion. 

Derek also had never played before, and regularly made ‘accusations’ rather than ‘suggestions’ when he entered a room, frustrating Spencer to no end. But, Derek was smart and seemed to be picking it up as he went along. That was until he made the same suggestion twice in a row, both times making Hotch show him the exact same card. He asked Reid endless questions about specific rules, and more than once he made the boy double check in the rule book when Derek tried to make a rather unorthodox move. 

JJ seemed to be the only one genuinely trying to have fun. She munched on the Cheetos that she stored in the bottom drawer of her night stand, and made conversation. Her strategy seemed to be exclusively focused on playing the game like it was the 1985 feature film Clue, playing the role of Mrs. Peacock with a fake accent and treating it like an actual murder-filled dinner party.

After a solid twenty minutes of gameplay, the pizza arrived. With minimal grumbling from Hotch, who was apparently on a roll, they took a break to eat. 

“Did you see this?” Spencer said with his mouth full, lifting up the copy of the newspaper that he had grabbed earlier.

“Don’t get me started,” JJ grumbled and took a sip of her pop. 

“What happened?” Hotch asked, the conversation piquing his interest. 

Spencer explained—with the assistance of JJ who apparently knew one of the people involved through soccer—the entire scandal. Apparently, last year there had been very little interest in the leadership roles, so the President of the student government had simply waltzed into his role. He then hired all of his friends, his girlfriend, his roommate, and together they embezzled thousands of dollars of student funds. 

“I can’t believe they’re getting away with this,” JJ muttered. “Is there no oversight?”

“It’s always the same,” Emily replied. “Who’s going to oversee them? The college? They’re corrupt too.”

“This sucks,” Derek said. “Wish someone good would run for government, for once.”

Emily shook her head in frustration. It all just reminded her of her childhood. Embezzlement, corruption and nepotism all were casual topics discussed over family dinner in her home. She had higher hopes for students her own age, would they not break the cycle? Or was it just a microcosm of the outside world? 

“You should run Mr. Lawyer Man,” Penelope teased Hotch. “You could take any of these clowns.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow at her and went back to his pizza, brushing her off. Emily smiled at him. Penelope was right, he might actually do a good job if he set his mind to it. 

The people that surrounded her now were nothing like her mother’s friends—or the kids she had been forced to hang out with when she was younger—they were genuinely kind, supportive, and seemed to like Emily for Emily. When she told them she was an ambassador’s daughter, they had been more concerned with the cool places that she had been able to travel to than whatever power she had. At college, Emily finally exhaled fully, slowly relaxing more and more into herself. 

But, the topic of politics always set her on edge, especially since the semester was ending soon. Her mother had already begun to leave her voicemails about the galas, fundraisers and events that she was required to attend over Christmas break. She pushed thoughts of the future aside and focused on the warmth that surrounded her. With some music playing softly (a song that JJ liked by Vampire Weekend), the softness of blankets under her, and JJ leaning on her slightly as she ate her dinner, Emily felt at peace. She knew she could handle winter break, because she knew that these friends would be here when she came back. 

After years of leaving a school midway through the year only to show up to some new boarding school or international school each time her mom was reassigned, Emily never had a chance to put down roots. But, with each bite of pizza, Emily felt herself becoming even more firmly rooted. Not to this place, but to these people as their lives became more entwined. 

Once dinner was over, the game continued, and thoughts of politics left their minds. By then, Emily narrowed it down to the weapon (the candlestick), two rooms (the kitchen and the billiard room) and she was pretty sure that it was Colonel Mustard that had committed the crime. 

She had a decision to make: walk all the way from the study to the billiard room, or risk being wrong by making an accusation. She was pretty sure both Hotch and Reid were on the right track, as the younger boy’s scribbling in his notebook had gotten even more intense and the older boy was beginning to look around suspiciously, as if the others were trying to read his notes. 

She had pretty much ruled out Penelope, JJ and Derek as competitors, as the trio spent most of the time talking, and genuinely trying to have fun. Emily, Reid and Hotch were all way too into it, but Emily was competitive and this was her game. She wasn’t going to lose to Hotch, no way. Reid winning she could blame on his boy-genius nature, but Emily decided that Hotch was going down. 

The two boys seemed to have come to the same conclusion, all eyeing each other across the board, the tension palatable between them as their competition became heated. 

She nervously tried to move to the billiards room, deciding to play it safe. Better safe than disqualified. But, as soon as she made that decision, she regretted it as Spencer straightened up on his turn and said: “I’d like to make my accusation.”

“Write it down,” JJ prompted, as per the rules. He jotted it down in his paper. 

Then, with bated breath, they watched as he grabbed the envelope out of the centre of the board, and read the cards. His face fell when he saw one of the cards, so he must have been wrong. He placed them back into their envelope and back onto the board. 

“No dice?” Emily asked. 

He shook his head. 

“Statistically speaking that should have been right,” he grumbled. “My math was wrong.”

“Boy genius isn’t a good detective, huh?” Penelope mused. 

A few turns went by, with Derek, Penelope, and JJ moving around the board or making suggestions. 

Emily rolled the dice, making one square from a room. She sighed. She’d make a suggestion next round. 

On Hotch’s next turn, he made an accusation, which he wrote down on a pink sticky note that Penelope had handed out when the game started. He checked the envelope. 

Emily held her breath. She was sure he had it and that the game was over. She should just call it quits now. She went to bite her nails out of stress, but stopped herself, they were starting to get long and she wanted them to look nice. 

A moment passed as Hotch compared his cards. After he saw the third card in the envelope, his expression revealed that was also wrong. 

Boys, Emily thought. Always so overconfident. 

She made a suggestion instead of risking it: “Miss Scarlet—er myself I guess— in the Billiards Room with the pistol.” 

It was a gamble. If she was right, and the people who knew she had her own card and the pistol caught on, they would also know that it was the Billiard Room, because no one would be able to disprove her theory. If she was wrong, someone would have the card for that room, and she would know that the crime occured in the Kitchen. 

The second seemed to be true, as Derek showed her his card with a small illustrated image of the Billiard Room on it. She was right. She knew what it was. But, she would have to wait until her next turn. She was going to win. 

But, it was she who was overconfident, because as she was too busy preemptively celebrating her win, Derek casually made his accusation. 

“Hey I’m right!” he exclaimed, holding up the cards and his own hot pink sticky note. 

In his semi-cursive scrawl read: “Colonel Mustard, Candlestick, Kitchen.” These guesses matched the cards hidden in the envelope, and Emily’s own deduction that she planned to make on her own turn. 

“You guys really thought I hadn’t played this game before?” Derek laughed. “I’ve got two sisters, board games were everything.”

“Were you hustling us, Morgan?” Spencer demanded. 

He smirked. 

“Should’ve put money on the outcome,” Derek said with a laugh. “I’d be rich.” 

Emily threw her cards onto the table in defeat. JJ shot her an empathetic look, and Emily tried to stuff her frustration down to pat her friend on the back for the surprising win. He deserved it.

———

After the game concluded and the pizza had been completely eaten, the group parted ways, heading to bed, or for more midnight snacks or to finish up some studying, leaving JJ and Emily alone and to start? a game of Scrabble. 

The board was ancient, and quite a few letters were missing, but with music droning on JJ’s laptop, and the soft fairy lights overhead, neither girl minded too much. 

Emily looked at her letters:  O, B, S, O, T, B, W and thought hard, rearranging the wooden pieces to try and formulate a word. After a long day of academia, and investing so heavily into the game of Clue, she probably had only one or two working brain cells and both were telling her to play the word ‘boobs.’  

Her eyes flicked to her girlfriend, who looked absolutely gorgeous in the warm light. Her blonde hair almost glowed, and she had an adorable expression on her face. Emily couldn’t help but glance lower, thinking about the real world examples of her Scrabble word.  

She played the word with a cheeky grin. 

“‘Boobs,’ Emily?” JJ scolded. “Really?”

She sounded angry, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at her cheeks and Emily could tell the girl found it funny. 

“I can’t help it,” Emily said. “I haven’t thought of much else since last weekend.”

She raised and lowered her eyebrows in an exaggerated manner, making JJ laugh and kick her lightly in protest. 

JJ then played the word ‘throw,’ using the ‘o’ from ‘boobs’ to form her word, earning her thirteen points. 

“I don’t think you can throw boobs, babe,” Emily said. “They’re usually attached.”

JJ rolled her eyes. 

Emily made it her mission to find the funniest words possible, working extra hard (and missing out on some good points) in an effort to make JJ laugh. ‘Armpit,’ ‘meaty,’ ‘hoagie,’ ‘urine,’ ‘joint’ and her piece de resistance: ‘boner.’ All while JJ was playing incredibly normal, and often strategic words like ‘axis,’ ‘snow,’ ‘vain,’ ‘snag’ and ‘writings,’ hitting multiple double- and triple word scores on the way. 

“This is fun,” Emily said, sneaking a handful of JJ’s Cheetos out of the family-sized bag next to the blonde, while she was distracted by playing her turn. 

“I don’t understand how you’re winning,” JJ muttered. 

Emily shrugged, “Guess I’m just a genius.”

“Reid? Is that you?” JJ joked. “Why are you disguised as my girlfriend?” 

“Would Reid do this?” Emily said, leaning over toward her girlfriend and pressing kisses all over her face until she fell back. Then Emily straddled her, their lips meeting in a passionate embrace that left both girls panting. 

“I would hope not!” JJ exclaimed with a laugh, making a face at the thought. 

They laughed and went back to making out, with Emily careful not to disturb the game pieces. JJ sucked onto Emily’s bottom lip, making her weak in the knees and she struggled to support herself over JJ’s shorter frame at the motion. 

“We should-” Emily tried to say between kisses, “finish the game.”

JJ kept deepening the kiss, going so far as to grab onto Emily’s butt to hold her in place on top of her.

“You’re trying to distract me,” Emily chided, “because I’m winning! I see right through your plot.” 

She sat up and went back to her tiles before playing another funny word: ‘suck’ for twenty points. JJ grumbled,fiddling with her own tiles, as Emily collected a few out of the bag. 

Emily was preening as she rearranged her own tiles and didn’t notice as JJ put down her word. When she went to play her next word (‘zap’) and only then did she see what word JJ played. 

‘Love.’ 

It was there. Clear as day. Written vertically and connected to the word ‘snow,’ it was unmistakable. Emily looked at it for a long moment, trying to figure out what it could possibly mean that her girlfriend very intentionally played such a loaded word. Was it the only word that fit? Did she only mean that she loved the snow? Was she also reading into it? 

Emily looked up, making eye contact with JJ. The blonde blushed and looked away, nervously fiddling with the necklace around her neck. Emily smiled faintly at the warmth that flooded through her, but alongside that, was the sharp pang of anxiety. Was she supposed to acknowledge that? Would that make it weird? 

‘Zap’ didn’t feel appropriate when her girlfriend may or may not have confessed her love for her. 

She played it anyway, deciding that making a big deal of it would just complicate matters. Besides, did she love JJ? She didn’t know. It was all so new. She liked JJ a lot. She definitely like-liked her in the traditional sense of the world. But Emily had never been in love before. She’d loved people before, Matthew for one, and her mother in a way, and she loved Derek like a brother. But being in love was a whole ‘nother ball game. 

JJ won the game after playing ‘equinox’ for twenty two points near the end, beating any lead Emily had gained from her silly words. JJ deserved it in the end, as the blonde would sit and stare at her letters until they formed the most complex words that Emily had never even heard of. Emily’s eyes drooped and she was barely able to create three letter words by the end, while JJ was still surprising her with her vocabulary. 

Emily shook JJ’s hand to congratulate her for the win. JJ grinned and kissed her. 

Then, they looked around and realized two things: it was past one in the morning and Penelope hadn’t come back to the room yet and that all of the blankets that JJ owned were currently being used in the blanket fort. 

“Can we sleep in my bed, tonight?” Emily asked. “I’ll help you clean up in the morning.” 

JJ nodded but was in the middle of texting Penelope, wondering where on earth her roommate had wandered off to. Within a minute she got back to JJ saying: with derek! will explain tmrw!! 😘 🧚‍♀️ 😳

JJ showed Emily the message and both girls giggled. Emily saw that coming, but didn’t realize it would be a game of Clue that finally sealed the deal.

Exhausted but happy and relaxed after the game night, Emily and JJ tumbled into Emily’s bed and cuddled up together. Between JJ and Emily, the word ‘love’ was left unsaid that night, but Emily fell asleep that night feeling a new warmth in her chest.

#jemily #criminal minds #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #cm #criminalminds #jj x prentiss #emily prentiss / jennifer jareau #gravelyhumerus cm college au #sweater weather au #emily elizabeth prentiss #jennifer john jareau #my writing #fanfic #criminal minds tv #my post #finally!!!!!!! shes here!!!!!! #its all fluf #also sets up the sequel abit #so see if you can catch on to that #enjoy!!!

[hopeymchope]

Parascientific Escape: The sci-fi “escape room” visual novel-style series nobody talks about

I can’t help thinking that Parascientific Escape would probably have an active fandom somewhere on the Internet if it wasn’t TRAPPED ON THE 3DS ESHOP.

I mean, it’s an escape room-centric visual novel-style sci-fi Japanese game that is clearly inspired by Zero Escape and very anime in its style. There are endearing characters, including optimal waifus/husbandos, plus a gradual buildup of an interesting fictional world full of political intrigue, its own countries, its own companies, and of course... psychic powers. Because you can’t have a trilogy of Japanese visual novel-style games featuring escape room puzzles without mental powers, now can you?

But as I said... they’re trapped as download-only titles for the 3DS. That’s fucking brutal. 

Even so, there’s a pretty big 3DS/2DS user base still in existence. It’s not like they’ve never been translated or something, so at least we have the capability to play them. So if you look into them, what are you getting?

A basic overview: Parascientific Escape is a trilogy of anime-style games about solving escape room mysteries and tracking down evildoers via the use of psychic powers (obvious Zero Escape influences). There’s an overarching plot about a mysterious mastermind who believes it’s time for the recently emerged psychics of the world to take their place as the next evolution of humanity and get their own nation (obvious X-Men influences).

They don’t work very well as standalone stories; each story relies on information from the last one, culminating in a game that stars the protagonists of both parts 1 and 2 together as they finally unravel the motivations behind the events of the whole series and face off with the people behind everything. In addition, the escape room puzzles start out pretty easy in the first game build to be pretty frustratingly obtuse by the tail end of the third. And on top of all that, each game taken on its own only contains about 3-4 escape rooms. So when you bundle all three together, that’s when it all works as a single satisfying package. 

Don’t worry about burning a lot of cash to play the whole series, however. The three games are $5.00 US each on the 3DS eShop and are usually on sale for $2.50 each these days. I got the entire trilogy for $7.50 US!

So let’s break down the gameplay and setup in a little more detail. Don’t worry; I won’t give any spoilers that go beyond the first five minutes of any game in the series. The twists and turns are part of the fun here.

The first game is Parascientific Escape: Cruise in the Distant Seas. You play as  Hitomi Akeneno, a high school girl (because of course she’s a high-schooler) with the dual abilities of mild telekinesis and a type of clairvoyance that lets her peer past barriers or into the insides of objects. She finds herself trapped on a sinking cruise ship where some mastermind keeps systematically locking her into isolated sections while she’s trying desperately to escape. 

I really liked how you could look inside of an object with clairvoyance and then use her telekinesis to manipulate the various switches and levers within, gradually pulling some object you need out from within a maze. I also thought it was clever how the solution to a new escape roomight require you to backtrack to a previous escape room to investigate some object or area that wasn’t relevant to that previous room’s original puzzle. 

(One of the things I found most fascinating about this one is the ethical debate raised by Hitomi’s friend Chisono regarding how Hitomi got herself involved in all this. Chisono offers a perspective that is extremely unusual to see in most fiction. You can even say it’s pretty cold, but it’s not without having some merit to it. I don’t want to say too much about what I’m talking about, though; it’s better left as a surprise.)

The second title, Parascientific Escape: Gear Detective, almost seems standalone at first. You play as Kyosuke Ayana, a private detective and actual adult (!) who is 22 years old. A young woman shows up at his office and asks to hire him for protection. See, there’s a serial killer on the loose, and she believes she’s the next target.

We are swiftly told that Kyosuke was once in an accident that necessitated the replacement of his left arm and right eye. He volunteered to be a guinea pig for some very special prosthetics that granted him artificial psychic powers. As such, he now has “chronokinesis” — to the power to look back in time. However, he can only look back for five days, and he only has limited ability to move or manipulate the things he sees in the past. 

Naturally, Kyosuke’s investigation winds up trapping him within some escape rooms that require use of his unique abilities to solve. Some of the hints at the proper timestamps or exactly where you should be looking when you peer into the past are a little vague, though, which can cause momentary frustration. Because I like to always be making forward progress, I actually preferred Hitomi’s telekinesis/clairvoyance powers from the first game. Still, Hitomi had some pretty basic puzzles in her rooms. I can’t deny that these puzzles took more thought.

Outside of the escape rooms,  everything is undeniably a huge improvement. The first game presented strictly linear segments of storytelling between the rooms, but this one is more of an adventure game. You can choose where you go, select from a limited menu of things to do when you get there, and do all of it in any order you like. There’s usually a correct sequence order to progressing the story, but it’s typically pretty clear what the next step is, so it’s not like you’re just flailing about and trying a bunch of locations blindly. Besides, there’s no way to get stuck, so don’t stress it. There are even a lot of actions you can take that have no impact on story progression at all — they’re just there to generate additional dialogue that further develops the characters. 

The tradeoff is that you actually get fewer escape rooms overall. The first game had four, but the second only contains three. This is also the first game in the series to introduce multiple endings; you get a number of dialogue choices throughout, and unfortunately, it’s far too easy to trigger the “bad” ending. There are guides online to help you trigger the Gold Star “true” ending, however. Just hit up GameFAQs. You might want to use the guide on your first playthrough, because I can say from experience that it’s annoying to have to replay all the dialogue sections just to make the correct choices. (Luckily, you can skip over any irrelevant sections of each chapter — including the escape room puzzles.) 

In spite of my above whining, the second one is probably my single favorite story in the Parascientific trilogy. It’s a lot of fun.

The final game in the trilogy is Parascientific Escape: Crossing at the Farthest Horizon. Mysterious characters who were plotting offscreen for the previous two games are finally given faces, locations that were talked about extensively in both are finally visited, and the two protagonists of the first couple games finally meet and team up. It’s absolutely a culmination of what they set up in the first two.

The narrative jumps around from the perspectives of many different characters, but the most time is undoubtedly spent with Hitomi and Kyosuke. Sadly, there is no gameplay usage of Hitomi’s powers this time; the escape rooms are all done with Kyosuke, and they are more devious now than ever before. Personally, I found the next-to-last one to be incredibly obtuse and frustrating. I ultimately had to consult a video playthrough on YouTube for that. (The YouTuber in question didn’t seem to have the same issues figuring things out that I did. So I guess your mileage may vary.)

The “adventure game” segments make a return here as well, although they’ve also become a bit tougher to figure out. There are a couple of times when you might find yourself wandering the various location options, clicking on every possible action to try and progress. Luckily, there aren’t so many default options that you’re left flailing for very long. Even the longest period of clueless wandering lasted me a maximum of 15 minutes.

Once again, you have to make the correct dialogue choices if you want a positive ending. And once again, GameFAQs is your friend and co-pilot.

Ultimately, even the gated endings and occasional puzzle frustrations did little to curb my enthusiasm. I really had fun with these characters and their stories, I greatly enjoyed the majority of the escape rooms, and I was pretty satisfied with how it all wrapped up. The character designs/artwork get better and better as the series goes on. The selection of music tracks may be the same throughout the whole series, but I really dug on them, so I can’t complain. Do I have any other misgivings? Well, just one; the English localization is pretty sloppy. There are a pretty large number of typos, and the dialogue can sound stilted and awkward at times due to being a direct translation. It’s actually at its worst at the start of the first game. Luckily, after about 30 minutes of playtime, it settles in and finds its voice.

Seriously, they should really figure out a way to re-package these games for another system that doesn’t use the the dual-screen setup. Put all three of them together, and it’d easily be satisfying as a full retail release!

But for now, if you have a 3DS/2DS, they’re only $7.50 in total most of the time (and $15.00 at the worst). Do you like adventure game-style mysteries and visual novel-esque progression and, of course, escape rooms? You should give these a shot! And I hope these devs get to make games with bigger budgets and better localizations in the future.

#parascientific escape #parascientific escape: gear detective #parascientific escape: cruise in the distant seas #parascientific escape: crossing at the farthest horizon #3ds #2ds #3ds games #2ds games #video games #visual novels #Kyosuke Ayana #hitomi akeneno #escape room games

[mcu-fan-fics-blog]

The Helping Hand

Summary: Y/N Krast Illegitimate Daughter of Tony Stark. Product of an unwanted teen pregnancy. What would Howard Stark be capable of doing to assure his sons future? What will happen when Tony meets our Beautiful, young, genius, rich philanthropist.

Word Count: 3000 approx

A/N: Sorry for the wait I've been a little busy the last couple of weeks. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Next chapter will be Civil war I hope to upload again soon. In the mean time if you have some ideas or thoughts send them my way.

Tw: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Drug use, Drug addiction, Teen Pregnancy. (If there are any I missed please tell me.)

Ch.7

Chapter 8: Time and Irony Walk Hand in Hand

Ch.9

"Well this is nice…" You say as Natasha drags you along. You see currently you and Natasha are quote on quote shaking a tail. Whatever that means… "Shut up and keep moving." You stop moving and pull your arm away. "Stop Nat we've gone far enough. It was probably just a coincidence we didn't really get that far from the food truck." Finally taking the time to catch your breath. "I think we should get back to the compound. Tony and Bruce must be waiting for me." You say looking around for a cab lucky for you one stopped right before you and you got in.

The ride back to the Compound was quiet. When she's about to make her way in, you stop her. "Nat… I know that didn't go the way either of us wanted it to go but I still had fun. And again what I'm trying to say is that I would like to do things your way, candlelit, waiters, and wine. If you want to of course." You fidget with your fingers waiting for her response. "Y/n I would love to… but I like the way you do things. You're not the Wine and Dine type... I like that." She mentions as she walks back in. You quickly follow suit after she makes a comment about your blatant staring.

Once you stop on the elevator FRIDAY greets you. Telling you that Tony and Bruce are waiting for you in the lab. "Well Nat this is goodbye for now, see you around." You say stepping off of the elevator. Suddenly this weight comes crashing down on you. Remembering what Bruce told you the worry in his eyes. Dread fills your body when you're walking towards the lab. "Guys I'm back… anything good for me?" You state casually trying your hardest not to sound hopeful. "Well yes and no…" Tony states putting the tablet down. "I'm going to be honest with you… your heart is trashed, absolute garbage."

"Way to make a girl feel special." You say with a dry laugh. "But I think we can build something. And with my arc reactor technology we can make it work." He states tapping at his chest. This is where Bruce jumps in "with the help of Dr. Cho we could try and make a new cradle… and use it for its intended purpose this time around. Making a heart powered by the arc reactor." You nod taking all the information in. "Well this is good right? How long would this take." This is where both Tony and Bruce go quiet. "Y/n the process is relatively easy, what's difficult is getting our hands on the Vibranium."

"Which is basically a non existent problem at this point… Bruce is just paranoid, my contact will pan out you'll see." Tony jumps back in clearly annoyed that Bruce was disclosing such trivial issues. "Even if we do get the Vibranium Y/n there's something we don't know… If you'll even survive the transplant." Your eyes meet his and he elaborates. "Your body might not be strong enough to handle it." Suddenly the inevitability of the situation dawns upon you. "Well I'm still doing it… I'm dying anyways. What difference does it make if it's a month from now or five. I'm doing it." 

"Well, let not be hasty alright. We can still look for other alternatives." Bruce tries to argue. "Look, this is Y/n's decision. She's old enough to make her own decisions. Plus the more we work on this the higher survival chances are." Tony argues. You clear your throat when you notice some visitors standing by the door. "How long have they been there?" You ask, trying to mask your anger. Pietro and Steve both give you sheepish smiles that don't quite reach their eyes. "Look Y/n we just wanted to make sure you were okay… and by the looks of it you're not." 

You stand making your way to stand in front of Steve who had just taken a defensive stance. "Well you're right I'm not okay. Now what are you going to do about it Cap… Other than feeling pity every time you look at me." You say pushing your finger on his chest. "This does not leave this room you understand?" You say looking at both Steve and Pietro. "But, My sister…" You nod "Figure it out pretty boy. Now if you could leave the adults have to talk." They both sigh but take their leave. You turn and notice Tony and Bruce staring, not saying anything. You can only laugh at the sight. 

As much as you did want to be mad you couldn't. You were starting to come to terms with the fact that your business was now becoming their business. "I just wanted to watch them squirm." You clarify making Tony laugh. "Well I'd say you achieved that." Bruce mentions. "I'll give them til the end of the day. What do you think?" You say looking at Tony. "How much are you willing to bet, Billionaire to Billionaire?" He asks, challenging you. "50 million dollars." He scoffs. "Don't be a prude, make it Euros." You nod. "Best money there is." You say agreeing with him. "I'll hold you to that Y/n." He says as you leave the lab.

Two days later you were busy. You'd been in contact with Bruce and Pepper. Currently you were looking for someone to mentor. Someone you could leave your legacy with. Logan was an obvious choice but you knew he wouldn't take it. "You wanna give it a break Y/n you're not going to find the perfect candidate in so little time." Logan mentions. When suddenly your secretary enters with more forms. "Ms. Krast these are the applications from Midtown Science High. There's only four. Liz Allan, Ned Leeds, Flash Thompson, and uhh Peter Parker." You sigh with a smile forming on your lips. "They've got to be here my mentee. These kids are geniuses." 

You say as you look through the applications. Slowly crossing off the first two, that Flash kid and Liz. Ned and Peter it was a tough choice until you saw some of yourself in Peter's eyes. "It's him." You say under your breath catching Logan's attention. "Peter Parker… I want him, he will be the future of our company. Make arrangements. I want him to feel welcomed." You say as you start to gather your things. "Send out the acceptance letter today." You say to Logan on your way out. "Will do Boss." He says with a smile growing on his face as he reads the file. Peter didn't have it easy on the contrary he lived through a lot but he still managed to be him.

The next week went by in a blur. Your will and testament were drafted and certified. You were set on that end and now on the other front. You were currently parked outside Midtown High waiting for the bell to ring. When it does a couple of minutes pass when a fresh faced kid is knocking on your window. "Y/n Krast nice to meet you kid." You say rolling down the window. He seems a little nervous. "Come on in Peter. We're going to get to know each other a little before we begin working with the internship." He nods enthusiastically, a small smile forming on his lips. "Tell me about your Peter, I mean outside of what I already know."

"Well I'm what most people would call a nerd. My aunt may always say that's not true but it is." You hum in agreement pulling out of the school parking lot. "Well being popular is overrated anyways." You jump in. "And Ned, my best friend, we're huge fans of you and your work." He says his speed increases as he starts to ramble about how he followed your trajectory as soon as he found out who you were. "Well I'm glad you like what I do Peter but in my eyes were equals. I will teach you my ways and hopefully you'll take over once I'm dead. Keeping my legacy alive long after I'm dead." You say seriously making him settle and quiet down. 

"Ms. Krast you can't be serious." He says giving you an incredulous look. "I was an orphan… I was given a chance. Someone believed in me. I guess what I'm trying to say is that you remind me of me… and I would like to give you that same chance that I was given." You say sincerely. "Y/n that's too generous… Plus I don't think that I'm what you're looking for. I'm clumsy and…" You stop the car making him look at you. "You may not be ready now or tomorrow but if you let me teach you, you will be." You say reassuringly. "Plus I don't plan on dying anytime soon." You say playfully at the end causing Peter to laugh successfully lightening the mood. "Also another plus for you after this year's audit we'll be working hand in hand with Tony Stark."

At the mention of Tony's name he lit up ten times more than you thought possible. It made you laugh a little but you understood him. "That's amazing. Me working for Y/n Krast and Tony Stark, a literal dream come true." You nod at his statement. The day went by incredibly fast. He was a nice kid, respectful and smart, a little naïve but overall sensible. You went to his favorite pizza place and talked, went to Krast Industries and introduced him to Logan. Showed him his dedicated work space. "So here's your badge, don't lose it. Umm… you'll be here every other day after school, and if you have some special dates tell Margaret the secretary and she'll make a schedule around it." You say as you're walking towards the elevator. 

Peter stops abruptly turning to face you. "Thank you really." He then proceeds to rather hastily pull you into a hug. You're shocked initially but hug him back nonetheless. "Don't sweat it kid." You say patting his back. "I'll have one of my drivers give you a lift home alright." He nods. Just before you press the button for the elevator the doors open. Revealing Pepper Potts and Tony Stark. It makes you laugh internally knowing that the young boy beside you just had his world rocked. "Ms. Krast this is real right?" He asks in a high pitched voice. You nod.

"Pepper Tony, I would like you to meet my new mentee Peter Parker." You say nudging him forward. "Hi, you're Tony Stark." He says in a daze. "Yes kid I am Tony stark and you are?" Tony could literally not care less. Until you gave Pepper a look and she nudged Tony. "Alright kid it was nice meeting you." He says overly enthusiastically. Peter takes the compliment either way. "Alright Peter go over to Margaret she'll take you to the driver. We have some urgent business to attend." He nods and waves goodbye shyly and takes his leave. "Right what do you guys need." Pepper clears her throat "Well actually Tony and I wanted to invite you out to lunch." 

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's get going." You say walking off with Pepper. "You'll be pleased to know that you won our wager. They know..." Tony mentions at the restaurant. You laugh. "Told you!" Pepper gives you a look. "They're worried about you." You sigh. "Pepper, believe me I'm worried too." Tony quickly steps in. "Which you don't need to worry about too much, everything is in place. Everything panned out Dr. Cho was more than willing to help us. So whenever you want." He says again not meeting your gaze. "I was… ummm. Actually thinking we should hold off on that." 

"What… why?" They both ask almost immediately. "I'm okay right now." Tony scoffs. "So you rather wait till you have another episode to undergo the procedure." You hum. "Precisely see you get it." Watching their confusion you continue. "I've got things I have to leave ready. Time that I can't take for granted." Before they could argue with you said. "I need time… I-i drafted my will a couple of days ago." You say burying your head into your hands. "It's funny really… how you get things you're willing to live for. And life just comes along and takes it from you." Your mind drifts off to Viv and David. You wipe your tears and excuse yourself. Just as you're about to leave you remember. 

"Put the money in a college fund for the kid." You grab Peppers shoulder and nod. "We'll keep in touch." You say leaving the restaurant.  

Three weeks later 

Pretty early on you noticed Peter's jumpy behavior. It wasn't long till you found out his little secret. Again smart kid heart of gold even, but too naïve for his own good. You'd had one of your AI robots track him after he'd shown up a little dinged up. Telling him you knew took some time. You didn't know the extent of his capabilities, but you'd seen the kid walk on walls and kick some ass.

As cute as he looked in that makeshift costume you had a better one in mind. "Peter I would like to show you something." You call out from your workstation in the lab. "Ward pull up spider schematics please." You call out. "What do you think?" You say as Peter glances at his new suit. "I-i um… It's awesome but who is at for?" He said quickly. You almost burst out in laughter right then and there but you played along. "Well I was in Queens the other day and there was this mugging and some hero came out of nowhere and stopped the mugging." You say as you deconstruct the specks of the suit. Watching as peter gawks at the hologram. 

"When I noticed his suit wasn't really a suit, I made him one. You think he'll like it?" Peter nods eagerly, you hum in response. "Alright then try it on, see how it fits spider boy." Peter stands there with his mouth hanging open and you could swear saliva came out. "You aren't that good at keeping secrets kid." You say handing him the suit. "I expect you to be careful, kid." Peter starts to ramble trying to explain himself and begs you to not fire him. You physically had to stop him from pacing. "No ones firing anyone. I'm proud of your kid again, just be careful." Emphasizing the last part. "I will" after all that's out of the way you and Peter spent the day testing out the specks in his new suit. Web slingers and all. Yo I didn't leave until he got the hang of it. It took a while but it was well with the wait. 

The next day you wake up to the news seeing a familiar twin on the news. Not good Lagos had gone wrong, the building collapsed and Wanda was to 'blame'. You hurriedly made your way through your morning routine and raced to the compound. As soon as you make it to the common room you can tell something's off. "How is everybody?" You asked Steve who was the first you saw. "I'm assuming you heard about the incident." You don't have the heart to say yes so you just nod. "We're all a little down on morale. Nothing we can't fix." You say, giving you a small smile. You hate that he is down playing this because of your current dilemma. "It wasn't your fault." You say. As you walk off towards Pietro. 

"Are you okay?" You ask this time actually worried Pietro doesn't seem like his usual self. "No...It's Wanda. She hasn't talked to anyone she hasn't eaten she hasn't left her room." He says all in one breath. He finally stopped stirring and slid down to the floor and sat. "Its my fault. I-i could've moved faster, I could've saved them." He says defeatedly. "Maybe… Maybe not" You say bluntly sitting in front of him. "You can't go back now. And I know it's a sour experience. You made the right decision." You sigh. "You made the choice that saved the most lives." He nods letting out a deep breath. "I know… I know but Wanda. If I had saved those people Wanda wouldn't be feeling like this right now." You shake your head. "You fail to realize that if you had done that you would've died along with the other victims. Wanda will come around and let me talk to her." He only nods. "She's in her room."

You knock on her door a couple of times… no answer. So you make yourself comfortable and prepare yourself. Your knock every minute or two and you're constantly yelling in your head. Half an hour goes by and nothing. You go back to mentally yelling, when suddenly you're being dragged by the collar of your shirt into the room with the doors shutting behind you. "You're stubborn like a mule." She says not sparring you a look. "Yeah well I'm dying what are you gonna do about it." You quipped smiling at her. She chuckles. Suddenly the light leaves her face. "I killed people… I put people in danger, I put my own brother I'm danger." You nod. "You also saved hundreds of people. God only knows what that gas would have done. So thank you Wanda. You're my hero." You say sending her a smile.

Right when she's about to say something a certain red friend phases through the wall. "You will never cease to amaze me Vision." You say while looking between him and the wall. "You have very good taste in clothes." You mention as you eye him. He smiles. "Vision. We talked about this, there's a door for a reason." Wanda states. "Yes, well the door was open so I assumed…" He says, explaining himself. "What did you need Vision?" Wanda asks cutting him off. "Well Mr. Stark asked me to come and get both you there is a team meeting. With secretary Ross." 

#avengers #marvel #natasha x y/n #pietro maximoff #wanda x reader #tony stark #natasha romanoff #reader x avengers #wanda maximoff #fanfic #mcufam #stark reader #captain america #civil war

[batarella]

I Don’t Hate You - Part 10 MID-SERIES FINALE (Jason Todd x Reader)

I COULDN’T BE HAPPIER ABOUT THIS CHAPTER. I CAN’T TELL YOU GUYS ENOUGH HOW MUCH IT MEANS TO ME THAT YOU LOVE THIS SERIES. 

After this, a few smutty one shots are on the way ;) Then after a break, I will continue this series with PART 11!!! love you all from the bottom of my heart.

WORDS: 7431 WARNINGS: enjoy the fluff while it lasts 

Masterlist

I DON’T HATE YOU - MASTERLIST

------

It just had to be tonight.

Two hours, he said. It will be fine, he said.

Son of a bitch, it wasn’t fine. It wasn’t even close to being fine.

Robin had been at this since three in the afternoon and only now did they manage to reach the last layer of Falcone’s latest shipment. He didn’t want to come. Not tonight. But no, Batman insisted that he come and that he’d make it to the dance by six.

But it just had to be that one night that they deal with the largest drug raid they’ve had to deal with in his whole fucking career. Mother fucker, he was so late. He wanted to scream.

It didn’t just have to be a warehouse by the port. No. Falcone had these all sent with a jet from Mexico to a warehouse big enough to be Ace fucking Chemicals. Room after room with three sets of reinforcements every minute.

Seven o’ clock. He only had so much time.

Robin busted the door open with nothing else but his foot and threw four batarangs locked onto the muzzles of the shotguns. Five of them in the room. He rolled on the floor, kicking a table below the surface and slammed it right on top of a thug’s body. Feeling something come from behind, Robin backflipped in the air, let the man run right past him, so his boot would land right on the back of his neck.

One of them grabbed him from behind. Robin thrashed about, then kicked any incoming attack while his arms desperately pried their hold on him open. Throwing his head behind him, he headbutted the man and elbowed his shoulder.

She was gonna kill him. She was so gonna kill him.

He used a batclaw to grab one of them, hold him right against his chest and slam his head right into his friend’s skull. Faster. Even faster. He kept moving without sparing a second. Robin launched himself up the ceiling, grabbed a beam and jumped right an armed thug’s shoulders. “Wanna dance, pretty boy?!” one of them screamed.

“Love to.”

A batarang landed on his shoulder. Robin launched at him, landed a punch right to his gut and backed away before he could swing back. His knee landed on his groin, sending him to the ground only to be taken down by his elbow to the chest.

His speed helped with dodging the gunshots. But really. That was the least in his mind right now. Grabbing a man by the collar, Robin landed punch after punch right at his face, not stopping until he was unconscious. “I REALLY. HAVE TO. GO NOW.”

Even more reinforcements came in. “OH, COME ON!!!” he screamed.

Throwing a smoke bomb to the ground, Robin grappled to the ceiling, taking them out one by one and leaving them to hang on the metal beams. He jumped and landed right into an armed man’s back. His batclaw grabbed onto a steel table, and with his immense strength, he dragged it across the room to concuss everyone in its way. He was moving so fast that if he worked like this all the time, he might actually have a good night’s rest on the daily.

“Batman!” he screamed into his comms. “How much longer!?”

“This should be the last one.”

“Can't I just go?”

“No,” Batman sternly said before turning off his communicator. Grunting as he ducked from an incoming hit, Robin kicked the man by his legs, grabbed his shoulder then hauled him over his back and onto the ground with a large slam.

He grappled back up to the ceiling and moved through the pipes to avoid the gun shots. With a large enough kick, Robin dismantled one of the pipes, gripped on it tightly with his gloves, then jumped back to the ground and started hitting his opponents with it right to the head. “ROBIN,” Batman screamed into his ear.

He was almost killing these guys with just that pipe. Throwing it against the wall with a loud, frustrated groan, Robin went back to just his fists, moving even faster than he already was. He kicked every crotch that wasn’t guarded, punched every face he could see, repeatedly.

He ended up missing a giant hit to the face with the butt of a machine gun. “FUCK,” he yelled.

He had to do this quick. There was no way he’ll make it if he wastes more time.

Rolling on the floor to narrowly miss the bullets, he jumped up the boxes, taunting and annoying the hell out of the armed men aiming for him. At the corner, there were gas tanks piled up on top of each other, barely enough to blow up the whole room.

So he grabbed each of them, and with his bare hands, threw them all the way across the room to the center. It missed the targets, but that wasn’t what he was going for.

Robin started jumping around again, leaping from the beams and jumping from one crate to another. He waited until they crowded, until they were close enough to each other to take up just enough space.

Then when they were just the right distances away from the tanks, he threw three very explosive batarangs.

They exploded upon contact, blowing up everyone around to different parts of the room.

It was followed by the silence that made him want to leap for joy. Robin pressed on his communicator. “Batman. This room’s clear.”

“A car is waiting for you at school. Have fun”

“FUCKING FINALLY!”

One last foot to a body he saw twitching, Robin practically skipped out of the warehouse, grappling up the skylight and jumping from the top of the roof onto the snowy fields. He was running to the batmobile, barely able to catch his breath when he pressed on his wrist to call on his bike.

Fifteen minutes. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Speeding into the wide open road at the highest speed possible, he ignored the cold that seeped through his suit, how his face had basically frozen like uncooked meat in a freezer. He pulled the throttle, driving as fast as he could and slowing down only when he saw a number of cars at the edges of the city.

He squeezed through every empty space he could find and almost broke every traffic law imaginable. He regained his speed when there weren’t any cars, slowed down when there were and almost drove through the sidewalk when the time desperately called for it.

The school was all the way on the other side of town. And just as he turned at an intersection, three lanes of cars were honking and had taken up every space he could find from that distance. Screaming into his helmet, he looked up at the rooftops.

Ten minutes. Fuck.

“Alfred. I know Batman would never approve of this, but-“

“On its way, sir. Let’s not tell Master Bruce about this.”

Though he definitely would find out eventually, he didn’t exactly have much of a choice. Robin drove to an alley, grappling up the rooftop with his legs gripping around the motorcycle so it would drive all the way up the wall, he skidded on the roof, panting as he anxiously waited. Nine minutes.

He couldn’t possibly miss this. Not even if his life depended on it. Everything was going so well with you, he couldn’t just mess this up with a simple turn of events against his favor. If he could, he never would’ve gone with Batman at all, never mind the scolding he’d get afterwards.

Feeling the air around him shift and move faster than any wind could push, he looked up. The Batwing, in all its glory, lowered itself down and opened up for him. “Thanks, Alfred.”

“She must be some girl, sir.”

“Oh, she is.”

The Batwing sped above the traffic he otherwise never would’ve went past through. In the air, he looked through the cockpit windows, since the jet flew on autopilot, and collected himself. He can make it. He was so going to make it.

He was nervous. It wasn’t even about the dance or the fact that it was the first one he’s ever had to go to in his life. He couldn’t care less about any of that. But he did care about you.

And you were about to go on stage and sing for the whole school.

The Batwing dropped Robin off at a nearby alleyway. And after two short minutes, a handsome Jason Todd fixing the buttons of his suit came out.

He puffed up his collar, left the first button of his dress shirt open with his tie loosely around his neck. He kept moving while he was at it, pushing the school’s entry doors open. Thank God for the cold, otherwise he’d be swimming in his sweat. Jason combed down his hair with his fingers, despite it staying unruly, fixed the cuffs of his sleeve and walked straight into the gym.

Two minutes to spare.

Did he look okay? He must have looked okay. His suit wasn’t that bad. It fit him pretty good, in fact. He’s worn it to a few of Bruce’s parties but only now did he actually care about what he looked like. Pulling on his jacket, he surveyed the heavily crowded gym, looking past the balloons and falling snowflakes. You had to be here somewhere. He could see the band on stage still fixing their instruments. Good.

“Alright, people! Let’s give it up for Y/FN! Come on!”

The audience roared in applause, hands in the air. He could hear Penny’s voice scream your name from the front. He had to be up there. He couldn’t possibly miss this being blocked by some heads.

Jason pushed through the crowd, murmuring ‘excuse me’ every second and pushing the shoulders of people giving him dirty looks. His heart was beating so fiercely, it wasn’t nearly like beating up almost a hundred thugs in a single night.

He had to make sure you could see him. He wanted to let you know he was there, supporting and cheering for you just in case you needed a bit of a boost. He knew you weren’t nervous. But the thought of making you happy just from seeing him in the crowd, it made him want to do it alone.

Jason reached the front, but he was at the far left. He could see the stage clearly, though. That was what mattered.

Then you came out on stage.

A black dress, with a leather jacket over your shoulders and dark, thin tights that went all the way down your combat boots. Your make up looked perfect, and your movements so graceful and confident it wasn’t as if you were facing such a crowd at all. Your head was held high, and your smile so subtle, yet so charming that the crowd couldn’t help but cheer for you. You held the mic at the stand, looking around the room.

Jason’s hands stopped fidgeting and his legs stopped shaking. He calmed. So easily, he did. And when you turned to meet his eyes, you gave him that soft smirk that practically made the whole crowd of people around him disappear.

You were so perfect.

The guitar started playing and you held the mic. You faced the crowd, heaved your chest to breathe in, then sang.

“It's been a long time since I came around

Been a long time but I'm back in town

And this time I'm not leaving without you

You taste like whiskey when you kiss me oh

I'd give anything again to be your baby doll

This time I'm not leaving without you”

Jason’s eyes were so wideset, still in an apparent shock like it was the first time he’s ever heard you. Often, when you sung, you’d hesitate and keep it on the low. You blended your voice in a perfect falsetto on the higher side and kept your voice low, too low for him to even hear properly. You weren’t hiding it, but it was so different now.

Now, it practically ripped his chest and stole every bit of his heart like the song was made precisely for him. The crowd went wild. You were singing your heart out, belting notes so high the hairs at the back of his neck and basically everywhere else in his body stood up and froze him in his place on the ground.

You threw your head back, eyes closed, then you caught his eye.

“Something, something about this place

Something, something about lonely nights

And my lipstick on your face

Something, something, something about my cool Nebraska guy

Yeah something about baby you and I!

It's been two years since I let you go

I couldn't listen to a joke or Rock and Roll

Muscle cars drove a truck right through my heart

On my birthday you sang me a heart of gold

With a guitar humming and no clothes

This time I'm not leaving without you!”

You felt the song like it came right from your soul. Your hair thrown back, your occasional glances right into his eyes. Jason’s breath had basically stopped by now. So did his heartbeat. He walked closer to you, despite the onlooking crowd. He just couldn’t look away.

You definitely looked mean. Terrifying. Dangerous. Basically everything anyone would describe you at first glance. You weren’t smiling when you sang. In fact, you sung with the anger you had stored inside, the anger he understood more than anyone else. And if this was your outlet, if this was how you show to the world and make it so mesmerizing to see, by god, it was beautiful.

You were beautiful, in almost every possibly way he could describe. He’s never looked at anyone the way he was looking at you right now. Mouth to the floor, his chest hurting like it was twisted, his stomach leaping across the room, and his hands sweating like he was facing the sun.

And if it wasn’t you, it was the song. It had to be meant for him. It just had to be.

“You and I

You you and I

Nebraska

I'd rather die

Without you and I!”

The guitar’s shrieks matched your belts, and you sang with so much emotion even he was moved just from the sight of you. The song ended, and you bowed with a light smile on your face before waving at the crowd cheering for you like you were a star.

Jesus.

Jesus.

He’s never felt so aware of the flush on his face, his eyes looking up at you like you were a deity, his throat clenching every second, and his sweat pouring out of his hairline despite the obvious cold.

This was the feeling? This was what Dick was talking about when he mentions all the women he’s ever been with and coo over them like he was insane? Fuck, was he insane? Does all this have to do with sanity? Because it totally fucking felt like it did.

It was nothing compared to the rush he felt on patrol when his actual life was on the line, when he’d face the Joker head on or Cobblepot or even fucking Nygma. Even in the middle of the fight, when his mind is at its pinnacle, thinking fast and acting just as fast, the rapid beating in his chest still was incomparable to how he felt just looking at you.

He never had so many things race to his mind all at the same time, but couldn’t even bring up any complete thought like the idiot he definitely was. The host was back on stage, and you walked down, heading to his direction. The moment you turned and found him, walking to him with a knowing smirk on your face, he couldn’t think of a single fucking word to say.

“I-I…” he stuttered.

But your eyes brought that comfort. The same from the day before, and the day before that. When he’d grow so nervous but the moment you looked at him like he was the absolute best thing in the world, the throbbing in his whole body would come to an eventual calm.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Ace was right. The fucking dog was right.

Jason was in love with you.

Undeniably, immensely, exceedingly, excessively, wonderfully, remarkably, absolutely, without a doubt, in love with you.

-----

You stood in front of him, gawking at you so much it was adorable. You had to bite into your gums. You were gawking at him as well. Maybe even more. God, the sight of him in a suit. His tie barely fixed, his button open and his hands stuck to his pockets in the most laid back, effortless way but still extremely handsome to look at. You could stare and drool over him all day.

It took a bit of time before he could actually say anything. He was nervous, his head craning down and his hand scratching the back of his head more than he probably should. Jason was adorable like this. And if you could, you’d pull out your phone right now and take as many pictures of him as you could. But you wanted to enjoy the moment with your own eyes, a moment no picture could possibly recreate. Taking another step towards him, you started to fix his tie.

“You’re looking real good,” you teased. The moment you touched him with your fingers lightly grazing his chest, you felt him stiffen like a pole. But you kept your eyes on him, silently telling him to relax. He smiled with his teeth so bright and cleared his throat. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you said, brushing the sleeves of your jacket. “How’d I do?”

He bit on both his lips, looking at the ground. You couldn’t help but laugh. “Earth to Todd.”

He shook his head and squinted at you, but after a moment of gathering his thoughts, admiring the details on your face like he wanted to memorize you, he finally spoke.

“You were… uhm. I just… I… wow…”

He was vigorously rubbing the back of his neck, and you just felt embarrassed at this point. But you wanted to take another step tonight. With him. You took his hand, holding it tight and encasing your fingers with his. His nerves mellowed down, and he stepped towards you. Your chest was touching his now, and with a smile on your faces, you whispered, “Wanna get out of here?”

“After you,” he winked. Then with his hand on your back, he led you out towards the exit of the gym, past the crowding people dancing to the blaring music. You hated every bit of it. The dance itself repulsed you. Thank God, Jason was here.

Turning to the side, you saw a girl looking at him, biting her lip and her eyes so wide you were sure she would’ve come up to him if he didn’t have you by his side. Pursing your lips, flaring your nostrils, and glaring at her with your eyes narrowed and focused, she caught your look and immediately stepped back, drinking from her punch and looking around the room pretending she wasn’t caught.

Then as if nothing happened, you looked back at Jason and smiled. “Saw that,” Jason said.

Grunting, you stepped closer to him. “Get used to it, Todd.”

And your heart jumped when he kissed your hair, his hand now around your shoulders. Your arm went around his waist and you both walked out of the campus.

Outside at the driveway, Jason led you to his car.

The man brought a fucking Ferrari to the dance.

“Jesus Christ, Jason. You really didn’t have to-“

“Bruce has a lot of them. Trust me.” He held your chin and craned your head up to look at him. “It would help to impress you, too.”

You stuck your tongue to the side of your mouth as Jason opened the car door for you. “You don’t seem so nervous anymore.”

“Trust me. I’m sweating like a madman.”

He walked over to the other side of the car and started the ignition. You felt excited. A whole night just with him. A whole night with no end in sight. Every night should be like this. And it should never, ever end.

He drove smoothly out into the road. “I’m in the mood for some tacos.”

“Taco Bell, it is.”

“You know exactly how to charm a girl, Todd.”

“Thanks,” he grinned at you and turned up the music.

“I didn’t see you before the performance. I thought you wouldn’t make it.”

“Sorry. Something came up. I went in just before you started, thank fuck. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Your smile was undeniable. “I haven’t exactly performed in front of a crowd for a while. I’m just glad it’s over.”

He looked at you. “Well, now that I’ve caught my breath, I can tell you exactly what I think.”

“Which is?”

“You were amazing. And perfect. And beautiful. The song was great, but you made it even better. I never thought you’d go so well with Lady Gaga, but shit, you sung it better than everyone else on this fucking planet,” he smiled. “I couldn’t tear my eyes away from you.”

Your mouth parted and you looked at him with the most glistening eyes. He kept his eyes on the road, so with nothing else to say back, you looked onwards and pretend that didn’t just make you want to scream.

“You know what,” you pulled out your phone, connecting it to the speakers in the car and scrolled through the songs. “I’ve done my part. You're next, Todd. Sing for me.”

“No way.”

“Yes. It’s only fair.”

“There’s no way I can sing right after you and keep a straight face.”

“Just sing, you dickhead.”

The song started to play.

“There are places I'll remember

All my life, though some have changed. Come on, Jay. Sing!”

Jason turned his head to you for a moment, and when he saw you swaying in your seat, singing along like it was the most fun thing to do, he started.

“All these places had their moments.

With lovers and friends, I still can recall.

Some are dead, and some are living

In my life, I've loved them all”

You cheered and laughed along with him, singing along with him. He definitely could carry a tune. He was good, even.

So at the next verse, you stopped singing and let him go on his own.

“Though I know I'll never lose affection

For people and things that went before

I know I'll often stop and think about them

In my life I'll love you more”

You wanted to scream from the giddiness that made you feel. He gave you a dirty look, but eventually laughed when he saw you clapping for him. You and Jason kept singing, finishing the song until the next one played. You had an entire playlist of The Beatles on your phone, and you listen to them constantly.

But you’ve never quite enjoyed them the way you are now.

You got to the drive thru, ordered enough tacos to feed five people, then Jason drove over to a Walmart parking lot, where not many cars were around at this time, the lamp posts were bright, and there was absolutely no one else around but you.

It was cold, but manageable. You and Jason walked out from the front seats of the car, opened the trunk at the back so you could sit there, legs hanging off the edge and have the view of the highway with speeding cars.

You set your food in between, then you swung your legs around as you took the first bite out of your taco. Jason’s bite practically finished half of the whole thing, so you watched his jaw, clenching the way you just loved watching.

You still hadn’t gotten over the view of him in a suit. With your eyes still stuck to him, you took a bite with your mouth wide open.

“Hold on,” he said, taking out his phone. “I gotta do this.”

With food still in your mouth, Jason snapped a picture of you. “DUDE.”

He laughed and you took his phone from his hands, shaking your head. You didn’t look so bad. But your mouth was all full and you looked at him all clueless and annoyed. You nudged his shoulder, then his phone accidently went into his home screen.

His wallpaper was of you. At the football field. You were looking away so you didn’t notice he’d taken a picture at all. Stopping, Jason snatched his phone back and stuffed it into his pocket awkwardly silent.

Damn the fluttering. It was back again. You looked away, watching a car speed by as you continued to eat your taco.

“I hope that doesn’t freak you out.”

You bit on your tongue, reluctant, but he was looking away from you all embarrassed and adorable, you didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable.

So with a sigh, you took out your own phone and showed him your own wallpaper.

It was of him, his shoulder leaned against the shelf of the library while he read his book. His shirt was thin, and with the angle, you could perfectly see his arms and the details of his face. Fighting back a grin, Jason blushed and looked back away so you wouldn’t be able to see how much he was smiling.

“Uhm,” he cleared his throat. “When did you take that?”

“A few weeks ago. Right after that trip to the house.”

He licked his lips. “This is awkward. But can I take another picture of you? Right now?”

You quirked up an eyebrow.

“You just look so… you know…”

“Dork,” you teased. Then he happily took out his phone, pointed it at you, then you faced him and smirked.

He took a second to look at you outside of his camera, then he took a whole lot of pictures even at the same angle. Rolling your eyes, you then took out your own phone. “Your turn.”

With a shy grin, you didn’t wait for him to look at the camera. You took pictures of him smiling at you, smiling at the ground, biting his lips, him just being him.

“You know what,” you said, breaking the silence. “Let’s have another round of truth or dare.”

“I don’t see much grass for me to make you eat, but let’s do it.”

“You make me eat grass one more time I’ll make you lick that lamppost.”

He stood back. “Fine.”

“You start,” you said, leaning back and swinging your legs in the air.

“Truth.”

“Did you listen to me sing that night at the library?”

Jason chuckled, rubbing his chin. “I thought you didn’t notice.”

“I saw your smile, Todd.”

“Alright. Fine. You got me. I did. It was the first time and I wasn’t exactly sure what to do.”

You playfully hit his shoulder with your fist.

“I can't believe you fucking knew.”

“Oh I did,” you winked. “I also know about those times when you turned off your music and pretended to listen with your earphones when I was humming and shit.”

“Fuck.”

He pushed you to the side with his shoulder. “Your turn. Say truth.”

“Why?”

“’Cuz I got a question for you.”

“Fine. Truth.”

Jason said, “I asked you about what you hated. Now tell me about the things you love.”

You¸ you wanted to say.

“Wow,” you sighed. “I love coffee. Obviously. I love it when it rains. I love the color black. I love singing. I love movies a lot. Aaand I guess I love Edgar Allan Poe’s stories now.”

You tilted your head to him. “That’s it?” he said.

“Eh,” you shrugged. “Maybe a bunch of other things as well.”

Keeping your eyes on the highway, you breathed hard. “Okay. Say dare.”

“Dare.”

You liked how he trusted you. “Tell me something you never wanted me to know.”

“Fucking hell.”

He laid back, his weight on his arms, then thought for a moment.

“Well. I guess I never would’ve wanted to let you know at that time. But when we started at the library, I was actually kind of excited it was with you.” He scratched the back of his head. “I thought you were… you know… hot. You were really mean-still are-and I wanted to kill you a lot of times. But gosh, you’re really pretty.”

“Jesus,” you blushingly looked away. “You’re a huge nerd, Todd.”

“Shut up.” He smiled. “Your turn.”

“Dare.”

“Show me all the pictures you have of me on your phone.”

“Oh my GOD,” you screamed.

He watched you close your eyes, flinching when he nudged your shoulder. “Come on.”

“Fine. Here.”

You gave him your phone unlocked, then he went to the photo albums. You leaned your chin against his shoulder, which made him stop, look at you for a while, before scrolling again.

“I look good in that,” he said, opening a picture of him reading at the table across from you. He went past even more. Some of him from the house, some saved from his social media account. You had quite a number in your albums. Embarrassed, you snatched the phone back and dug it into your pocket. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he held your hand. “My turn now. Truth.”

You didn’t know if you should be asking this, but you really wanted to. Sighing, you spoke, “When did you start to… you know…”

“What?”

You looked shyly at him, letting your hair fall down to your face as if you were purposely hiding it. You pushed it behind your ear, then looked at him.

“Oh,” Jason returned your expression and looked at the ground.

“I don’t think I can point out the exact moment. Since it came so gradually. It just grew on me. You grew on me… But I think I can tell you when I realized that all these feelings were there in the first place. I figured it all out one day at the library. After we went to the house. You were on the other side of the shelf and you didn’t know I was there. I was just minding my own business with the shelves.

But then I saw you through the books. Between the spaces. I could only see so much of your face, but when you moved, I got to see more of you. You were silent, reading that Poe collection book. Your hair was pulled back and I could just watch how your face moved and how your eyes trailed along the words. I saw you being so invested in something I showed you. Something that I loved, too. And I found myself staring at you for… I don’t even know how long… I think that’s when I knew.”

His eyes trailed back to you, and you were as frozen as he was when he watched you on stage. “That was the night I tore the library apart to find you the other Poe collection. I just thought you’d want to read it.”

Your breaths were slow, and you glanced at his lips when he tightened his hand around yours. “How bout you? When did you realize?”

“Uhm,” you cleared your throat. “This might sound stupid-“

“Try me.”

You shook your head. You knew the moment. You knew exactly when it was. It played on your mind so much you thought you went insane right after that.

“You were taking me home. I really didn’t want to go home yet. But I had to. I think you knew about that, so you decided to go around town for a few blocks and take as much time as you needed.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I remember that.”

“I was at the back of your motorcycle. A bunch of cars stuck in traffic. I had my arms around you the same way I usually do, but after the light went green, I didn’t notice I started to lose my grip. So at the next stop, you took both my hands.” You cleared your throat. “And pulled them tighter around your waist so I wouldn’t fall off...”

You were about to cry. You couldn’t believe you were about to cry. But you fought it and kept going.

“Your hands held me for a while, and you made sure I kept them there until you sped off again. You told me to be careful. And I did. I never lost my grip after that…”

You could recall that night for every second you were awake. And you did. Every day, you thought back on how warm his hands were, how delicately he touched you, how much it seemed that he thought about what you felt, made sure you were calm and safe and secure. There was not a single selfish bone in his body.

“You have no idea how much that hit me…”

Jason must have had the same face as you had on, because his hand went over to cup the side of your cheek, running his thumb across your skin.

A car furiously sped through the highway, skidding across the road. It was then followed by two other police cars driving just as fast. The noise made you both jump. Clearing your throats, you pulled away and looked straight forward to catch your breaths.

Jason coughed and placed all the wrappers in a bag. “Come on. I saw a skateboard out in the parking lot.”

“A skateboard?”

He smiled at you. “Don’t know how to ride one?”

“No, and I don’t plan to.”

“Just come on.” He grabbed your hand, pulling you away to the empty parking lot after he’d locked the door on the car.

It was standing against the lamp post. And it didn’t look broken. Jason took it, placed it on the ground, then balanced himself on top of it. Crossing your arms, you watched him as he slowly skateboarded around the driveway making circles around you. You took pictures of him, but after a while, you just wanted to enjoy the moment as it was.

Jason, in a suit, his loose tie in the air while he skated around an empty lot, it was quite the sight to see. He was so fucking handsome and cute and hot, you just wanted to scream at the sight of him like a little girl. You watched his hair bounce, his hands skillfully balancing himself in the air, his suit fitting his muscles so perfectly. His skin glistened under the single bulb of the lamppost and he occasionally glanced at you with that cheeky grin. There was that fluttering again. Jeez.

He jumped and the board flipped under him. “Damn,” you said. Then he skated his way closer to you.

“Hold on,” you said. You went to a lamppost, where you saw a bit of junk placed around it so carelessly, then you took a traffic cone and placed it on the center.

“Jump over that.”

“What do I get?”

You tilted your head. “If you ollie over that, you get to teach me how to skate.”

“I accept that challenge.”

Jason went over to the far side of the parking lot, looking at you and bending his knees. You saw him take a deep breath, looking right in front of him, then with his hooded eyes, he raced to the cone.

You could hear the wheels skid when he sped through the cement grounds, then with his feet skillfully pushing the back of the board, he leapt up in the air with a decent formation, a proud, yet focused look on his face.

Then he landed right on the cone’s head, smushing it flat just as he hit the ground.

“Jealous?”

“Not really. I told you to jump over that, not mutilate its guts out.”

He built up his pace, going around you and letting his jacket flow with the wind.

“Come on. Deal’s a deal,” he said, stopping in front of you and almost slamming against you in the front. You shook your head, but he took both your hands, walked over to the other side of the board, and you slowly placed one foot on top of it.

“Good. Now use your other foot to push yourself.”

You did just that, then you started to move. You struggled to balance yourself but his hold on you was strong and secure. You lost your focus on the ground once when you glanced at him laughing as he gripped on your arms tight, and you almost fell on your feet.

“Just put both your feet on the board. I’ll move you around.”

“Don’t you dare let me fall.”

He looked up at you then winked.

You kept laughing and tumbling over your balance, but Jason held onto your elbows, and you on his, and he moved you around. “JASON!” you screamed when you almost shook.

“I got you.” Under the lamppost, and then into the darker shades, you and Jason laughed your hearts out. He started building up the pace, and you screamed and held onto him with your life, but he was practically running across the parking lot until you jumped off the board on your feet.

“Again,” you coughed, still catching your breath.  You stepped back onto the board, held onto his large arms, then went back to running you around the lot with your shrieks filling the empty air.

Then Jason held your waist, and you on his shoulder. You smiled at him before he pushed you around on the board, now smoother than the first time. Your body felt more secure, more at home. His hands were so warm on you, holding you under your jacket. You just wanted to lean into him.

Something cold pierced your skin. So cold, in fact. Then it went to your hair, your jacket, Jason’s face.

It was fucking raining.

And it looked like it was only gonna get so much stronger. You shrieked playfully as you shielded your head, grabbing Jason’s arm so you could pull him back to the car. He ran with you, laughing and covering his own head.

But then he pulled away and, so suddenly, grabbed your body to haul you up over his shoulder. “JASON, DON’T YOU DARE-“

He laughed and stopped running, holding you up with your legs kicking in the air, your hands tapping on his back.

“DON’T BE AFRAID OF A LITTLE RAIN, Y/N.”

It wasn’t a little rain. It was starting to really pour down onto you. You kept laughing, Jason twirling you around up in the air. And you never felt so cold with the freezing temperature mixed with the droplets landing onto your exposed skin. But you weren’t shivering. You never felt so alive. Jason put you down, but kept on holding onto you when you tried to get away. He held you from behind, nuzzling his face into your neck. Your laughter was so beautiful when mixed with his own.

Your hair was absolutely drenched by now. So were the rest of your clothes. Your face was freezing. Jason’s suit was soaked and his hair had stuck to his forehead, flat on his head in a cute mess.

“HOLY SHIT, IT’S FREEZING.” You screamed.

“I KNOW.”

So you freed yourself from Jason’s grasp, holding both his hands and swaying them around. You didn’t run away. You just enjoyed the rain. The cold. The breeze. You looked up at the sky and felt the muscles on your face being pierced by the prickling needles of the cold. Jason looked up with you.

Then your eyes caught each other, and your bright smiles started to mellow down.

Jason held your waist, pulled you so close to him that his chest gave you the warmth you needed not to shiver so much. And you returned with your arms around his neck, your feet stepping so close to him. The rain kept pouring, onto your faces, onto your bodies. But you stopped moving.

His eyes. His eyes. The way they looked down at you. The way they made you want to leap to the sky. Your other hand went up to his hair, entangling the wet strands within your fingers. Your foreheads touched, then your eyes closed.

You both leaned in at the same time.

Your first kiss had a slow, steady beat of a song playing at the background, and you couldn’t possibly have asked for anything better to pull together a moment so beautiful, something that never truly left your mind. The song stuck to you like an ear worm, but in the best possible way. Because every time it was played, or when you thought of the song unconsciously muttering the lyrics, you could remember the feel of his lips, the feel of his body on top of you, the feel of the grass beneath you and basically everything about that night.

Now, there didn’t have to be music. You’d easily remember this moment each time it rained, or each time you felt cold, or each time you were in a parking lot or each time you saw a fucking skateboard. His lips, cold from the rain, warmed up at the first touch against yours and moved so lovingly gentle, so perfectly in sync, that it was just as magical as the first time.

You pulled on his head, biting on his lip, letting his tongue passionately play with yours the tighter he held onto your waist. You pulled back to catch your breath, but he leaned back in to pull you back before you had the chance.

His lips were still so gentle, growing more numb overtime the more you moved, the more you placed your hands around him. Jason held the sides of your face and you pulled on his waist, beneath his jacket where you could feel the ripples of his strong body with his dress shirt so wet.  

Slowly, reluctantly, he stopped, his forehead still pressing closely against yours as you saw him gulp. He opened his eyes and looked into yours like he was about to cry. Holding the side of his face, he whispered.

“I think I’m in love with you…”

Your chest rising, your ears ringing and the sound of the rain so painfully roaring into the night, your hold on him tightened.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “Th-that’s not too soon, is it? I understand if you-“

You smashed his lips back against yours and kissed him harder than you ever had. You held his neck, his shoulders, then down his arms until you held his waist. No, it wasn’t too soon. It was perfect. And it was the best thing anyone has ever said to you your whole life.

He kissed you back, but then you pulled away.

“I think…” you whispered back. “I think I’m in love with you, too.”

Soft. Like a slow, beautiful dance. Your heart raced before settling into a comfortable warmth. Jason’s grin was one you’d have to remember for the rest of your days. You pulled him back for another kiss, ignoring the rain, ignoring the speeding cars in the highway. You were practically arching your back from the way he held onto your waist, leaning in like he just wanted to be one with you.

You loved Jason. You wanted to protect him. You wanted him to be happy for all the days so long as you were alive. You wanted him at your side every second you were awake. you wanted his beautiful smile to be at your cause. You wanted the world to be in favor of him.

You never wanted him to get hurt. And with your distrust towards the world, how your cynicism might never go away, a torch in the darkest night has given you a purpose to go on with hope.

You loved him.

One of these days, maybe you’d have to thank that Maxwell guy for spilling his coffee onto your project. Maybe you’d have to thank the Vice Principal for being so hard on you with the punishments. Maybe even Ms. Peterson, for giving you and Jason more reasons to have fun in the library.

So yeah. Maybe it wasn’t so bad being sentence to being library assistance for the longest, most eventful, and eventually the best ten weeks of your life.

-----

I DON’T HATE YOU - MASTERLIST

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EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

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#Jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd fluff #red hood #robin x reader #batarella #batarella fluff #batarella angst #i don't hate you series #i don't hate you #jason todd x reader series #jason todd reader insert #batarella series

[artificialqueens]

Ever in Your Favor, Chapter Five (Rosnali) - Athena2

Summary: Denali and Rosé officially enter the arena.

A/N: Thank you so much for the amazing comments on the last chapter! It really does mean a lot to me, especially because this one has been a little challenging to write. I'd really appreciate any feedback you have on this chapter!

Denali opens her eyes to gray.

The arena is gray and wet, mist falling over the damp grass, fog curling around tall trees and a massive cliffside. A chill bites at her, but Denali doesn’t mind. She might even have an advantage here. The warmer districts don’t know this cold, wet weather, but Denali knows the cold like an old friend.

Rosé coached her for this part, said to find a bow and whatever she could grab, but not to go in too deep or engage in any fights. After that, her first priority is getting far away and finding water.

Denali repeats it to herself, avoiding how the other tributes tower over her. The gong sounds, and she runs—

“Denali!”

Rosé’s voice brings her back, and the world around her isn’t wet, but grassy, with forest all around. Pine hits her nose, and it reminds her of the hours in the woods back home, her dad showing her which plants were safe to eat. The odds just might be in her favor this year.

Rosé is on her platform a few feet away, and the Cornucopia looms in front of them, an enormous golden horn stuffed with weapons and supplies. The others are spread in a circle around the Cornucopia, waiting for the gong that releases them.

The gong sounds.

“Denali, run!”

Denali doesn’t think twice. Her boots fly over the grass, the other tributes just blurs in her vision. She reaches the Cornucopia seconds before anyone else, and in those seconds, she finds what she needs: a bow and a quiver stuffed with arrows. The quiver is a comforting weight on her back, the bow warm in her hand, and if it wasn’t for her pounding fear she could almost convince herself she’s back home. She grabs a backpack and two knives in another heartbeat before footsteps and shouts erupt.

The tributes have arrived.

Most brush past her, deeper into the Cornucopia, where the best stuff is--weather-proof tents, huge bags of food, medicine. Part of Denali wants to join them, but there are always a lot of deaths at the Cornucopia, and she has what she really needs. She can’t get killed on the first day.

Blood suddenly splatters over Denali’s boots, and she sees the District 7 man hit the grass with a knife in his back. Denali tugs it free and adds it to her weapons, running towards the woods. She can’t see Rosé among the bodies at war with each other, and her heart skips a beat at the thought that something happened to her--

A distinct flash of red comes on her side, and Denali almost crumples in relief. Rosé has a sword and two spears, plus a backpack. And better yet--four full water bottles. Denali doesn’t want to know what she went through for those.

“You good?” she asks Rosé.

Rosé nods. “Let’s get out of here.”

---

They go for hours, switching between walking and jogging, trying to get as far from the Cornucopia as possible. They haven’t run into any dangers yet--no murder-wasps or anything--and Rosé doesn’t know if that’s good or bad. They don’t want to be complacent, and they keep pushing themselves, not even stopping to check their supplies, taking only the smallest sips of water. Rosé’s grateful for all that running with Denali--she probably would have dropped by now without it.

When the sun sets, bathing the arena in a golden light so warm and peaceful it almost makes you forget where you are, they finally stop. They’re in a clearing, and Denali arranges thick bushes and leaves to cover them.

“Let’s see what we have,” Denali says, and they lay out their stuff.

A sword, two spears, a bow, thirty arrows, three knives, four water bottles, a tiny first aid kit, six packs of dried meat, matches, and a sleeping bag.

“Damn, we did good,” Rosé whispers. “I got a freaking plastic tarp and a sword I didn’t know how to use for my first round.” She doesn’t want to get overconfident yet--it’s still day one, after all--but there’s comfort in knowing they have stuff, in not ending the first day so hungry and thirsty it hurts.

Denali nods, splitting up the food, and it’s almost nice in their little hiding spot. If they weren’t in the arena, if they both weren’t constantly looking around for danger, it’s a place Rosé might like to be. Berries even fill the bushes, ripe and juicy-looking.

“You think we can eat those?” Rosé asks. Denali taught her the most common edible leaves and plants when they trained, but Rosé’s never seen berries like these.

Denali almost jumps in the air. “Do not eat those, Rosé. They’re nightlock, they’ll kill you instantly. If we--if we get separated or anything, promise me you’ll remember.”

“Promise,” Rosé says. She’s quiet after that, and it’s because of what Denali said. If we get separated. Rosé’s been with Denali so much lately that she can’t imagine her not being there. She did fine on her own last time, and figured she’d be on her own again this time. But they’ve somehow crawled back into each other’s lives, and Rosé doesn’t want to do this--doesn’t want to be here--alone. The thought of them getting separated, of losing Denali in the arena, is enough to make her sick.

The anthem cuts across the dark sky, and they look up to see the images of the tributes that were killed today. It starts with the man from District 3 and ends with the woman from District 11. Ten dead tributes ticked off on Rosé’s fingers. Pretty high for day one, but not the highest. She knows she should feel something, but she doesn’t. She didn’t even learn their names. It’s easier that way.

“Twelve more left besides us,” Denali says.

“Glad all that math help I gave you paid off,” Rosé teases, and Denali smiles big enough to show her dimples. God, those dimples. Rosé forgot how much she missed them. She grabs the sleeping bag and hands it to Denali. “Get some sleep. I’ll take first watch.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Wake me in four hours.” Denali slides into it with a white-knuckled grip on her knife and her bow within arm’s reach. She keeps twisting in the bag--Rosé figures she’s right on Denali being afraid to sleep around people--but eventually settles down, exhaustion winning over.

It’s too dark to see much, and quiet enough to hear Denali’s gentle breaths. Rosé doesn’t think any tributes will attack tonight--they’d only be putting themselves in danger attacking in the dark--but she wouldn’t put it past the Gamemakers to spring something. Rosé is sure she keeps hearing noises, every muscle tense in preparation of an attack. The only thing that eases the tension is closing her eyes and listening to Denali breathe. It centers her somehow, helps Rosé figure out what she’s really hearing and what her mind is making up. As long as Denali’s here, as long as she’s breathing, Rosé is okay.

“Denali, wake up,” Rosé says softly after four and a half--she gives Denali some extra rest; she probably won’t know--agonizing hours. She’d tap her shoulder, but something tells her it’s not a good idea. Definitely not, because Denali immediately shoots awake and her knife hits Rosé’s chest. Even with the tip there, Rosé’s reluctantly impressed at how good Denali’s sight and aim are in dim moonlight.

“It’s just me. Rosé.”

Denali inhales sharply, yanking the knife away. “I--Rosé, I--I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Rosé understands. She’d shoved Lagoona after a nightmare once, her brain convinced her sister was a threat.

Rosé crawls into the sleeping bag and feels Denali’s unease seep over her. Besides her family, she never has anyone around when she sleeps. What if something happens? What if they’re attacked before Denali can do anything? What if she has a nightmare in front of Denali? She doesn’t know if they’re on camera, but that won’t look good in front of the Capitol. They want strength and toughness from their tributes. Waking up screaming from a nightmare will only hurt their cause, make them question Rosé’s strength, and she can’t do that.

But she’s tired, really tired. The sleeping bag is surprisingly plush, so thick she can’t even feel the hard ground beneath her. Everything is warm and soft, and though she tries to fight it, she sleeps.

---

The sun wakes Rosé before Denali does.

Day two in the arena, and Rosé resists the urge to burrow back into the sleeping bag and sleep until it’s over.

“I was just about to wake you,” Denali says. She’s ready to go, bag on and weapons in hand, and Rosé thinks Denali gave her some extra rest too, paying back the favor. “There should be a water source nearby,” Denali continues.

Rosé nods and follows, trusting Denali to guide them. Rosé’s world was one of icing and sugar and butter, of kneading dough and sweating in front of hot ovens. But Denali knows forests better than anything, her childhood made of branches and trees and plants. Rosé is amazed at how she keeps track of it all. Those water bottles won’t last forever, and if anyone can find water here, it’s Denali.

They continue through the woods, and again they don’t encounter anything. It has to be deliberate. The Gamemakers want to lure them into a false safety so the danger is that much more frightening when it does come. Rosé doesn’t want to think about what they might send.

She makes a mental map of the arena as they go. The forest seems to be the largest part of it, leading to another large valley, and then the mountain. Not an obviously threatening arena, and again Rosé thinks it was a choice. When faced with tributes who’ve seen so many different arenas with so many different dangers, leave them guessing about what to expect. A basic arena like this could accommodate anything the Gamemakers want to unleash.

But nothing is unleashed the second day, and they trade uneasy sleep shifts.

---

Day three brings the first threat--a group of lizards in bright neon colors that roam down a tree when Denali and Rosé are resting. They're definitely a Capitol hybrid, and Denali isn't sure if they're poisonous, but she doesn't wait to find out. Five arrows, five dead lizards, before they even know what hit them. It's almost comforting, in a way, to have something to fight against for a few seconds. Instead of just wandering the arena and waiting.

They decide to move on in case more lizards come, and see the District 4 tributes crossing the field.

Denali freezes, grip tight on her bow. They're out in the open, and she could get them both before they even hear her arrows whistling by them. Two less tributes to worry about. More odds in their favor. But they're defenseless. No threat at all, just walking along. Denali knows that they'll have to be killed eventually if she wants to win. She just doesn't want to be the one doing the killing. At least not unless they try to kill her first.

She lowers her bow. "Rosé, I don't think I can do it. I'm sorry." She hangs her head, expecting Rosé to tell her she's being stupid, or get mad at her for blowing an opportunity most tributes would literally kill for. What if Denali's lost her nerve? Will she be able to kill when her life really is on the line, when she really has to?

But Rosé just nods. "It's okay."

And they move on.

---

By day four, Denali is on edge. She flinches at every rustle, every snapping of a twig, but they haven't run into anything or anyone since District 4. Two tributes die, cutting it down to ten more besides them. They’re at the halfway point, and that surely means something big is coming. The Gamemakers won’t leave things alone this long, won’t let the tributes stay separated. This suspense, this tension hanging over their heads, while intentional, has to break at some point, to the interest of the viewers and horror of the tributes. Something has to come.

And on day four, it does.

Denali senses the change in the air before the rain comes, reaching her hand up to catch a drop.

It sizzles against her palm.

“Run!” she barks at Rosé, cradling her singed hand to her chest.

Burning rain pelts off their jackets as they tear through the woods. The material offers some protection, but tiny drops make their way over Denali’s hands, on her face, down her back. She hisses against the burning, and Rosé curses beside her as they try to find dryness. In one direction, gusts of wind almost bring Denali to her knees, ruffling her jacket and making the rain pound down, and she glimpses a thick spiral in the distance that she numbly realizes is a tornado. A fucking burning rain-tornado combo. The Gamemakers really want their money’s worth today.

“There,” Rosé pants, and Denali realizes a valley to their left is perfectly clear. They sprint into it, collapsing on the grass, and Denali can’t even look at the blisters on her hands. There’s a plant that helps burns, her father told her, she just has to remember--

“Aloe!” She runs to the leaves. She finds the plant and cuts it with her knife, letting the cool gel soothe her hands and face, sighing in relief. She cuts more and takes it to Rosé, who’s bent over in the grass so no one sees her face screwed up in pain.

“Rosé, it’s okay. I can help.” She places the gel on Rosé’s hands, ignoring the tingle in her arm at the touch.

“Can I do your back?” Denali asks gently, and Rosé only hesitates a second before she nods.

Denali lifts Rosé’s shirt and jacket, letting her hands trace up the hard muscles of her back as she spreads the gel over her blistered skin. She keeps her touch gentle, not wanting to cause more pain, and she knows this has to be on camera and exaggerates her touches, makes herself seem extra caring, even if she hates herself for it.

“Let me do yours now,” Rosé offers.

Denali freezes. For the briefest second, her ankle tightens with the grip of the girl from District 4, but Rosé isn’t her. Rosé is only trying to help, not hurt, and Denali nods, even if she hasn’t asked for help in years. It would blow their cover if she refuses anyway. She holds her breath as Rosé moves her shirt, not letting herself tremble or show pain in front of the Capitol.

“I’m gonna put it on now,” Rosé says. Denali sighs when the gel hits, grinning when Rosé scolds her to stay still. She hasn’t had someone care for her like this since her mother died. In seconds, the pain is gone, and they watch the rain. Denali wonders how long they’ll be trapped here. Not to mention that finding aloe seems too good to be true. Too suspicious.

“Some rain, huh?” Rosé mutters.

“Don’t forget the tornado,” Denali laughs bitterly.

“Wait.” Rosé stills, ear toward the rain. “Do you hear something?”

Denali doesn’t hear anything before five tributes sprint into the clearing. The storm was clearly meant to send them into one dry spot, and even with the burns, a windswept tribute from District 1--Denali thinks his name is Castor--launches himself at her with a sword. It’s too late to string her bow, and he’s too close--but Rosé jumps in front of her, the sword cutting across her leg as she swings her own sword at him. Metal clangs as they go at it, and Denali can’t even process that Rosé just saved her life before the woman from District 4 comes at her. Denali grabs a spear that Rosé dropped and blocks the woman’s arm, sinking the point into her chest a second later. The woman hits the grass, and cannon fire joins the noises of battle.

“On your left, Fox!” someone yells. The voice is too deep to be Rosé, and Denali realizes it’s Finn from District 4, currently locked in battle with the man from District 8. She barely has time to thank him before the woman from District 1 pounces at Denali, nails clawing at her neck. Denali blocks her just in time. The world is sweat and blood and heaving breaths, and Denali just hopes Rosé is still alive.

The fight ends as suddenly as it started, when Denali stabs the woman and looks around and realizes the rain has stopped, and there’s no one left to fight. The man from District 8 escaped into the woods, but the clearing is littered with dead tributes from Districts 1 and 4. Her bloody hands still grip the spear, just in case. Her arm is trickling blood, and her neck stings with scratches from the woman grabbing at her, but she’ll survive. She hardly feels it, hardly feels anything, really, as she looks around. And Rosé--Rosé is still standing, thank God, limping over to Denali. The gash on her leg is huge, soaking her pants with blood, but she’s alive, and Denali’s knees almost buckle in relief.

“Are you okay?” Denali asks. “We gotta get out of here, then we can bandage your leg.”

Before Rosé can speak, a wheeze sounds from the ground, and they dart toward the noise. It’s Finn, clinging to whatever life he has left. The man from District 8 must’ve got him. As she looks at him lying there, golden hair stained red, she finds the numbness fading into emptiness, emptiness that swallows her heart. Sparing his life yesterday had been for nothing. But deep down she knew it would be. There's no escaping the fate of the arena. He had been kind, had offered her an alliance she barely considered, had warned her of an attack even when she killed his fellow tribute. And now he’s dying. Would things have been different with an alliance? Would they have protected each other? Would he have become a friend that she would inevitably lose? He was going to have a baby, she remembers, but hearing it in the training room and remembering it now are two different things, and she wishes she didn’t remember. She understands why Rosé avoided the other tributes and didn't talk to them, why she tries to avoid the Games entirely.

“You said he was having a kid,” Rosé says quietly. Her normally wary eyes seem sad.

It’s not a question, but Denali nods anyway.

Finn wheezes again, letting out a hoarse please. Please what, Denali has no idea, and watches in confusion as Rosé approaches him. She can’t mean to kill him--he’s good as dead. Instead she crouches down, takes his hand, and begins to hum something. It’s a simple melody, one that sounds like a lullaby. Denali understands--Rosé can’t help him, no one can, but at least he won’t be alone. Denali kneels with her and just listens, goosebumps on her arms, and pretends she’s somewhere else. Somewhere she never had to do this. Somewhere the two women she killed today never attacked her in the first place.

The cannon sounds, and they leave the clearing in silence.

---

They don’t talk again until that night.

They bandage each other up and eat some fruit Denali found as they walked, lost in their own minds. Rosé’s eyes finally lose that far-off look as she eats, though she keeps turning her apple over and over like she’s never seen one.

Denali doesn’t know what to say. The cold side of her has already calculated that six other tributes remain--both from District 2, both from District 8, the woman from 7, and the man from 9. But how can she focus on who’s left after this afternoon?

They both jump when two parachutes appear.

The first contains a medicated cream, one that instantly starts healing their burns and soothes any remaining pain. The second is a platter of bread and fish, clearly from District 4, the fishing district, and Denali knows it’s because of what Rosé did for Finn. She swallows the lump in her throat, resenting the part of her that’s so hungry it wants to grab the food and shove it down without a thought. Another part of her doesn’t want to eat it at all, doesn’t want this reward when there’s blood on her hands. They don’t deserve this. They weren’t even friends with him, didn’t do anything to help. But Rosé made his last moments easier, and maybe that counts for something.

“I almost don’t want to eat it,” Rosé whispers, and Denali knows she feels the same way.

“I know. But I think it’s disrespectful not to,” Denali says.

Rosé nods. She turns her head, because there’s clearly a camera on them, and thanks District 4 for their gift. They split the food and eat slowly, savoring each bite.

The silence continues until the anthem ends, and Rosé nudges the sleeping bag toward her.

“I don’t really feel like sleeping,” Denali admits.

“Me neither. Nightmares are a bitch.”

Denali had long assumed Rosé had nightmares, given that the lights in her house are on almost any time Denali wakes up in the night. Denali’s not worried so much about dreams--it’s more that she’s sure she won’t be able to sleep and will just be lying in the sleeping bag with nothing to do but think of today’s deaths, or how Rosé protected her. Denali’s come to rely on her, to enjoy her company, and today just proved how close she is to losing Rosé and doing this on her own.

“Things seem...different now,” Denali says.

“It feels more real,” Rosé says simply, because she understands.

Denali nods. “We left while everyone fought at the Cornucopia. We didn’t see the other deaths. But this time...”

There’s a difference between watching someone die and killing them yourself, and it’s a difference only a few people fully understand.

“We did what we had to,” Rosé says quietly.

Denali nods, because it is true. She never wants to kill just to kill, only when she has to in order to live. And being in the arena again makes her realize how much she wants to live. She wants to go home and and watch the sunrise each morning instead of just ignoring it on her runs. She wants to invite Kandy and Kahmora over for dinner, and talk to Jan and Lagoona again, wants so many people in her house that she’ll need a whole new set of coffee mugs. And she really wants Rosé to be part of it. Maybe she can. Somehow.

Denali doesn’t want to talk about it anymore, and she can tell Rosé doesn’t either, from how she’s picking at her sword.

“I--I’m glad we both made it,” Denali says. “I’m glad I’m here with you. Thanks, by the way. For saving me back there.” Her subconscious knows it's a good thing to say strategy-wise, to prove the romance, but she really means it. She’s used to fighting tooth and nail for what she wants, not anyone helping her or protecting her. She didn’t have an older sister running to the stage to save her from the Games, didn’t have an alliance in the arena last time. She really is grateful for Rosé.

“So am I,” Rosé says sincerely. “And you don’t have to thank me. We look out for each other, okay?”

“Yeah. What was that thing you were humming?” Denali asks before she can stop herself.

Rosé looks down at her lap. A shaft of moonlight falls over her face and bathes her in silver, and Denali’s heart skips a beat. “It’s a lullaby my mom used to sing us. I don’t actually know all of it. We were usually asleep before she finished. But I never forgot the melody.”

“Oh.” Denali’s mother wasn’t one for singing. She told stories instead, old fairy tales of princesses and knights that Denali used to fight sleep to hear the end of. Sometimes her father would join in, and when he died, Denali lost not one but two storytellers. Her mother became a half-finished story after losing him, one that ended abruptly eleven years ago. Denali’s hand goes to her necklace, but she meets empty space.

No. No no no--

“What’s wrong?” Rosé asks.

Denali hadn’t realized she was speaking aloud. She doesn’t answer, instead digging through their bags while her heart pounds. She’s making too much noise as throws aside knives and food packets, but she doesn’t care because it’s gone--

“Denali,” Rosé says, and her calm voice breaks through. “What’s wrong?”

“My mom's necklace. It’s gone. I must’ve lost it in the fight.” Denali remembers the woman from District 1 clawing at her neck. She must have torn off the necklace in her struggle, and Denali didn’t notice among the chaos. Now it’s gone and she’ll never get it back, when she has so little of her mother at all, and she angrily forces back the tears stinging in her eyes. She won’t cry. Not in this arena.

“I’m sorry. It's your mom's, right?” Rosé asks quietly, and Denali nods. “Tomorrow we can go look for it. It could still be in the clearing.”

Denali knows it’s a long shot, but the mere offer—an offer to go back into danger for something that’s not physically necessary—stirs something in her chest. It’s more kindness than she’s been offered in years, more kindness offered without any reward expected, just like Rosé sneaking cookies into her bag, and it’s too much to take. She mumbles a thank you and crawls into the sleeping bag, explaining that she’s tired after all. It’s an excuse to not look at Rosé, at the concern in her eyes, because Denali can’t bear it. No one has looked at her like that in years. She feels too exposed, just like at the interview, and looking at Rosé is impossible when every part of her is raw and laid bare.

Surprisingly, sleep comes easy, and it brings not nightmares, but dreams of Rosé.

---

The sound of trumpets wake Rosé the next morning, after a restless sleep of tossing and turning. Her leg felt like it was on fire, and sweat ran down her neck all night even though it was cool outside. Her head kept swimming with images of the fight, but what really kept her awake was her confusion over Denali. Why couldn’t she look at Rosé, and why did she throw herself in the sleeping bag minutes after saying she didn’t want to sleep? Maybe it was the stress of losing the necklace. Maybe she wanted to hide in the sleeping bag so no one saw her cry. The necklace is obviously a touchy subject for Denali, and she’s probably just stressed. They both are. Rosé won’t pry.

She sits up and rubs her eyes with a groan. “What’s with the trumpets?”

Denali shrugs, seeming back to normal. “Must be an announcement. Maybe because there’s only eight of us left? We’re at the last third.”

Rosé can’t believe sixteen people have died, that they’re already at the final eight. It feels like ages and yet like no time at all has passed.

“After we win this, I should be a math teacher,” Rosé says, heart lightening when Denali smiles. Announcements are usually done to bring tributes together for a big bloodbath. Though the rain accomplished that yesterday. Maybe this is something different.

Rosé listens as the announcer explains an unprecedented rule change. In light of three full teams remaining, the most ever at the eight-tribute-mark, both tributes from the same district will be winners if they are the last two alive.

“Does that mean…”

“It does,” Rosé answers. If she and Denali are the last two standing, they’ll both win.

“We can do this. We can really do this.” Denali leaps to her feet, all the sorrow from last night gone. Rosé hesitates, a dark part of her wondering if there’s a catch, or if this is a trick. But they can’t just announce something like this and take it back, not when the audience will expect a team victory. Not when the audience will expect a District 12 team victory, because the parachutes last night just prove that they’ve succeeded, that their love has won over the crowd. They can win this, and the audience is rooting for them.

Rosé nods. “Let’s move, before they send more rain.” She hauls herself up, but a sudden pain explodes in her leg. The world spins around her, blackness closing in on her vision. She hears Denali saying her name but she can’t answer, can’t do anything but close her eyes and let the darkness take her.

#rpdr fanfiction #s13 #denali foxx #rosé #rosnali #lesbian au #hunger games au #ever in your favor #athena2 #tw violence #tw blood #tw injury #tw minor character death #concrit welcome

[ecoamerica]

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[jenivi7]

First Lines Tagging Meme

I'M SO HAPPY TO BE TAGGED IN THIS TWICE!  Thank you @ink-flavored and @clyde-side !! (I almost just did this on my own too because I love babbling about my own fics...)

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line.

Now pinned and under a cut because it became a really long, really good introduction to me and my stories! 

Hello!

Unnecessary and overly wordy introduction/personal musings: I love opening lines so much. When I worked at a bookstore, I used to open books and hardcore judge them on their first lines. I had barely any free time to read at that point so if it didn’t grab me in the first line or two, I put it back. The first Harry Potter book is actually in my pile of really good openers. “Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.” (Subtle alliteration, HELLO??) So I'm super excited to see if my own first lines come even close to the standards that I apply to other people lol. MY OWN MONEY IS ON NO. I have the feeling that I'm so frantic trying to get the story down on paper before the good words disappear from my head that I'm not actually paying attention to the first line. BUT LET'S SEE, SHALL WE.

So just straight up going backwards, I've written and posted TWO BRAND NEW THINGS after being away from fandom almost entirely for 10+ years! They're drabble length but they're shiny and new! <3 (All available fics are linked!)

1. Tango:

She teaches them to dance so that they can dance with her but when Atem gets that mischievous smirk on his face and pulls Yugi into his arms, their bodies spark and the dance floor smolders at their heels.

(The fic is so short that this is a full 1/5 of it but actually, I think I crammed all the good stuff right into that first line. This already might be my favorite. Like it says there in the line itself, Puzzleshipping.)

2. No Betting:

Anzu sat at the kitchen table writing carefully calculated answers onto sticky notes before attaching them to a fourth-grade math worksheet.

(Peachshipping! This one doesn't pop off until about line five so here's the rest of that bit:)

She had the same arrangement with her spouse as most parents had. When the kids were good they were hers. When they were bad, they were his. And when they were winning at games because they picked up rules with uncanny speed and read their opponents with more insight than ought to be available to a child, they were definitely, definitely his.

3. If you wanted honesty that's all you had to say (working title):

When he realized that the figure sitting under the game shop display window and smoking wasn’t Ryou, the physical body response was as though it had discovered a coiled snake not two feet away.

(This one! It's a NEW half finished(?) WIP. I actually started this one before the drabbles but wanted to finish before posting it. Then it got out of hand, then work got out of hand, then I started a couple more projects and well. I keep putting words on it though and eventually there will be a Kleptoshipper that turns into Puzzle and Tender for your reading enjoyment. Also, fair warning - don't use song lyrics as a working title. Every time I look at the document I get the song stuck in my head.)

Now we have polished up reposts of old stories for their move to AO3, where I'll basically keep my master archive. Not full re-writes but I fixed a bunch of typos and awkward sentences and they're much stronger for it. Most of these are from a pairings contest way back when so LOTS of different pairings and lots of AUs!

4. Human:

It was like a bad noir, the thought crossed both of their minds.

(Scifi AU, Rivalshipping. That one's not bad for a first line. Actually no link at the time of writing cause the re-edit is going up in like, a half hour? an hour? a half day? It's my next project after finishing this, finishing up the edit and posting it on AO3. Now with link!)

5. Blood:

Fingers through midnight black hair, whispers in his ear, touches that sizzled along the skin, awakening nerves and senses. 

(Dungeonshipping, Pegasus x Otogi, vampires AU. Oh that’s a nice first line! <3)

6. Crazy for You:

The keys are too large and too heavy for the doctor more used to more modern facilities but she doesn't say anything, just follows the orderly as he pulls the large door open.

(Manipulashipping, Anzu x Marik, Psychward AU. Still one of my favorites from that era. Big bold warning though, THIS ONE CONTAINS NON-CON)

7. Finality:

“What are you doing here?”

“Saying goodbye.” Bakura’s translucent arms swept across the graveyard. “Is this not an appropriate place for it?”

(First two or so bits of dialogue as the first first is a generic question. You can tell this is one of the really old ones just by that but it's a sweet, sad little Tendershipper that still has a special place in my heart.)

8. Pieces of You:

Glitter caught the light, leaving shimmering trails in the air as it got everywhere.

(Glittershipping, Anzu x Kisara. Another one that's special to me. Kisara is my girl and my first writing muse. <3)

9. Cambodia:

“It was summer of fifty three...”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute, it can't have been fifty three. You might be that ancient but I'm not. It must have been sixty three.”

(Jiishipping. Yes. Sugoroku x Arthur. HEY, IT CAME UP IN THE RANDOM DRAW FOR THE SHIPPING CONTEST OK. And my writer's brain hasn't backed down from a challenge yet... Another one that takes 4 lines to pop off but it's a good start. Actually, here's the rest of the bit just because I cannot get enough of these two bickering:)

“What do you mean it must have been sixty three? You don't even know what story I'm trying to tell.”

“Am I in it?”

“What?”

“So you're deaf now as well as daft? AM I IN IT?”

“Of course you're in it, y'old coot. Don't know why I'd tell a story without you in it when both grandkids are sitting here.”

10. Coffee and Cigarettes:

"Cigarettes and coffee? That's not a very healthy lunch." 

Mana crossed her legs and took a refined sip of her own coffee even as her company was not. 

(Mischiefshipping, Mana x Thief King Bakura. Oh this one I'm actually sad that it doesn't immediately sparkle in the first line cause it's one of my absolute favorites of everything I've written. And I think it's the only time I've ever written Mana but I LOVED IT AND HER. Oh no! I lied, I've written her at least one other time though I don't think that one quite captures her sheer chaos energy like this one does.)

11. A Million Missed Chances:

Somewhere along the line, someone made a choice.

(This one. THIS ONE. I think this is by far the most epic idea I've tackled. I still don't know if the sheer scale of the thing came across in the actual fic but in my head it was massive and I remember pounding away at my teeny tiny laptop late at night because the whole thing hit me maybe a day or so before the story was due for the pairings contest. We only had a week to write each fic and my really good ideas never came to me before the very last minute. T.T Conquestshipping, Mai x Valon.)

12. A Fear of Falling:

She drove.

Like she always did when something bothered her.

(Oh the first chapter on this is also one of the really ancient ones. Like one of the very first things I wrote. That first chapter really shows its age and is a little shaky but the others are better and the last one is what fits into the chorological order here. Polarshipping, Jou x Mai. One of my very first ships. Probably THE first actually <3)

13. What Our Creators Make Us:

"Well, well." The match flared, scattering dark shadows until it was blown out and the only light that remained was the red glow from the cigarette end. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

(Psychoshipping, Marik x Spirit of the Ring Bakura. With a bit of Bronze, Angst and Tender in the follow up. Old but I'm ridiculously proud of it, hence it's place in the master archive. Ahaha you can tell how old it is though by how clever I think I am. I thought it was funny to make my audience figure out who was talking and not reveal the characters for a good fourth to third of the fic. Ahhhhhhh. Sorry about past me.)

14. A Revolution of the Spirit:

It wasn't fair.  It just wasn't.

That they were close was understandable (you don't get much closer than sharing headspace) but that even now, after deals were made with gods, endless arguments, compromises and the ultimate guilt trip that he had only been a teenager when he willingly sacrificed himself for all of humanity, things she had only half seen and only partly understood even though they had all been there to witness, that even now Atem continued to invade Yugi's personal space as though he belonged there got on her nerves.

(Woah Nelly! That third sentence should probably be three, four and five. Even if I just split it in half we'd continue the pattern of things popping off in the fourth line. I think that's one pattern that's emerging! A really good bit takes me about four lines to set up and deliver! Oh, the challenge was Revolutionshipping, Anzu x Atem, but the fic is actually Spiritshipping, Anzu x Yugi x Atem.)

So confession time, I haven't been out of fandom completely, I just hadn't written my own standalone stories in a very long time. There are a few (ok ok more than a few) long-running rps that @miss-moberg and I have been adding to on and off over the years. I can't resist throwing in a couple of these.

15. Cafe!

The door shut behind them with the soft click of the latch and the exhale of a breath long held.

(This opening line was from December of 2020 when we rebooted a very old Prideshipper and that is a damn good opening line if I do say so myself. I can definitely see the difference now between the newer works and the older ones. I've gotten better, she's matched me pace for pace and eventually something will be finished, I'll work up the courage to ask permission to post it and the whole internet will get to see how brilliant the two of us are together.)

16. Treasure Hunt!

"Ryou, I think you're going to regret letting me tag along on your adventuring this time."  Yugi didn't bother turning away from the airplane's tiny window to see if his seatmate was paying attention.  He was more thinking out loud with his friend playing the role of a convenient sounding board.  "Because I think this trip is the only thing I'm going to talk about ever again."

(One more from RP because it's got that fun, four line punch that we've discovered is a pattern for me! Opening entry is from 2017.)

Also, in truth, my count is a little off when I say I'd been out of fandom 10+ years. I've been away from YGO for that long but I did spend a brief stint in Homestuck where I read a ton of fanfic, flirted with a couple group RPs and even wrote a tiny bit. 9 years without writing a new fic isn't as impressive as saying ‘over a decade’ but it is a little more accurate.

17. What You Will:

In the land of fair Illyria, along a small, sandy stretch of its rocky shore, a ship has come to ruin and one lone woman lies still as death among broken wood.

(The beginning of a Homestuck/Twelfth Night crossover that I'm still determined to work more on someday. It's only got a single chapter but it's magic though now I'm concerned about not being able to recapture that. Not a bad first line though. The style is so different it took me reading it a couple times before going, oh yeeeeeah, that's pretty good!)

18. Relentless:

You pull him to the deck and then across it by the remains of his shirt. Let him say one last goodbye. His ship pillaged, his crew murdered, his hands bound behind his back and at your mercy.

Funny word, that. Mercy.

(The first line is pretty decent but there's that four line combo again! Five but I could basically fix that with a comma. Featuring the troll ancestors Mindfang and Dualscar because every time Hussey introduced new characters they were instantly my favorite.) 

19. Black:

There is dark and there is dark and there is dark and then there is black. She is black. Licorice and coal. She is hate and resentment and everything that tastes bitter, the kind of black that coats the tongue like oil, drips down the back of the throat and keeps going.

(Oh wow. Am I allowed to say that about my own work? A Terezi/Vriska drabble that I'm putting as much here as I think I can get away with because it's so good that it fucks me up a little going back and reading it.)

And here it gets tricky because I think the more recent of the old, old fics are in the Drabbles and Shorts collection on ff.net and I can't see a post date. So I'll just pick a good one to end on.

20. Two Princes:

It was inevitable as the rising of Ra's chariot after a long night, as the flooding of the river banks every spring, and Atem always knew that Yugi's kiss would be as warm and gentle as the evening breeze in the summer that brought relief from the scorching day. It was.

(How about the final honor going to more Puzzle/Blind? This probably has the strongest first line of its era. Actually I'm not sure when it was written. It was just hanging out in my writing folder and, thinking about it, I probably wrote it when I was fading from fandom the first time around but still trying to hang in there. No wait! That’s too sad, we can’t end on that! Lets add one more to the list for the sake of personal narrative!)

21. Linger:

The world doesn't need him anymore. It doesn't need his sword and it doesn't need his pen.

(A tiny Princess Tutu afterward that I wrote for myself. Nice one-two punch in the opener. Also it rounds out the personal story that accidentally developed here with a line later in the fic, "Words, however, never stray far from a good writer..." Like, wait, stop. Past me, how did you know T.T)

Did that take a sudden emotional turn for anyone else or was that just me. Can I offset that a little with an honorable mention? Let’s do that while I collect myself. Here’s one more.

Honorable mention: Ryou and the Thief

There was a storm gathering and too much magic in the air. Much more than occurred naturally and magic at this level was never a good thing.

(I can’t have a list of things I’ve written without having Ryou and the Thief on it. If you click on this one though, BEWARE, it’s old, it’s silly and it has a ton of explicit gay sex that… would be written very differently if we were handling it today I’m sure! This is the first RP @miss-moberg and I ever did together and our excuse to Gemship and Puzzleship turned into us running the boys through a whole adventure based on the Osiris myth. It’s the longest thing I’ve ever completed and I’d still consider it kind of my legacy.)

And that’s the last 21(+1!) stories that I’ve written! 

The clear winner of best first line for me is 15. Cafe! It’s short, elegant and manages to contain a whole mood even without the context of what’s going on and who’s involved. (Spoilers: It’s Seto and Mokuba making an AU escape from Gozoboro.) Close second is Tango, the most recent story. It’s neat to see just how much better I’ve gotten and also really cool to see that even if the first line itself doesn’t contain a punch, it’s usually because there’s a nice, strong idea being set up and delivered in the first four lines (or so). What a pleasant surprise!

AND WOW, this whole tag thing didn't need to be so long! Or personal! Seriously, if you get this tag from me the challenge is only to list the first lines to 20 stories and maybe try to draw one or two conclusions from them. You all thought I was joking when I said I loved talking about my own writing! But actually, I guess it’s fine like this as I ended up using it as a way to re-introduce myself. Like, "Hey, I used to live here a long time ago and oh my god I love what you've done with the place!" Rather than being someone who's just popped up out of nowhere a few weeks ago to creepily bother all your best of the best creators so....

^///^ Hello!

Thanks for letting me ramble!

Tags! I think I've seen most of the authors I follow do this already but on the off chance you haven't been tagged yet: @elexica (checked your blog to see if you'd already done the tag and saw that you're another person returning to writing fanfiction after 10+ years. Same! Hello!!), @danieco, @draconicmaw, @nedjemetsenen (has someone tagged you already?) and two shots in the dark, @miss-moberg and @edmondia (I'm so sorry you two. T.T Please feel free to block me forever.) And please, anyone else who wants to babble about their own writing! Do this, it was so much fun. <3

#ygo #yu-gi-oh #yugioh #yugioh fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #jenific #so many ships #so many characters like woah #not half bad for a retrospective if i do say so myself #thank you for coming to my ted talk #tag game #first lines tag

[kooala]

once you realize - chapter one

USERNAME CHANGE!!

!!used to be kookie-off-his-kookie  but now it’s kooala!!

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader, Taehyung x his girlfriend Mina

Tags: best friend! Jungkook, idol verse, friends to lovers!

Genre: fluff, mutual pining, basically the cutest falling in love story 

Wordcount: 4.3k

Warnings: language

Parts: chapter one / chapter two / chapter three / chapter four / chapter five / chapter six / chapter seven

Summary: Seeing your friend regularly turned out to be difficult because of your colliding schedules, but seeing him again after a couple of months something about the way you thought about Jungkook seemed to have shifted. If only you wouldn’t have started getting close with someone else before you had realized how you felt about your best friend. 

Masterlist 

You knocked on the practice room door hesitantly before opening it an inch, peeking inside to see Jungkook and Jimin sitting on the floor, sharing snacks, and talking about something.

“Look who we have here.”, you announced your arrival, opening the door more to walk in and hug both of them in tightly because it had been months since you had seen each other. The conflicting schedules and the fact that they tried to keep male and female groups separated most of the time made it difficult for you to see each other. 

“Oh my god, what are you doing here Y/N?” Jimin was the first one up on his feet and you hugged him in tight, realizing how much you had missed him as a friend over the past months. 

“I figured I was going to come to say hi, it’s been forever.” Smiling you walk over to Jungkook who peeled himself off the floor, walking towards you to wrap you in a massive hug that embraced you completely. He seemed to have gotten broader, taller even. 

“If I had known we would’ve made up some nice plans.”, he smiled over at you after letting you go from the hug and the three of you just smiled at each other, starting to talk and catch up as you follow them up to their rooms for chatting.

You had met BTS back in your days when you had just debuted with your group because social media and tv had picked up on the fact that Jungkook and you had similarities in the position of the group. Not only were both of you the Maknea’s back then, but both of you had the same sense of competition and mastering things with ease - most of the time. 

This had resulted in a couple of collaborations and backstage videos together, where both your girl group and BTS had to compete, both Jungkook and yourself ending up fighting over the deciding points and differences that would make your team win. But as random as it had been to meet during competitive videos, all of you had gotten along well immediately and you had especially grown close with Jungkook, Jimin and Tae, who were all similar to your age. Jungkook never enjoyed the fact that you were a year older but you had always loved it because it annoyed him so much. 

Those years seemed to be long gone now but the friendship had stood the test of time over the past couple of years and it had turned into a tradition to meet up with some of the idols from other groups who were around the same age, going for dinner and some drinks whenever possible. All of you had turned into a strong core group of friends.

 “Honestly, we just talked about going out for a drink a couple of days ago and mentioned that we have to call you guys up before doing so!” Jimin announced as you entered Jungkook’s bedroom, all of you sitting down on the couch in the corner. 

“I wish I could but there’s no time at the moment. I’m so happy we got tonight off, it was only because they canceled a broadcast last minute. Mina is with Taehyung already.” You say, wiggling your eyebrows excited because they all knew how close the two of them had gotten randomly out of the blue over the past couple of weeks.

“Of course she is.”, Jungkook laughed and sunk lower onto the couch, putting his feet up on the table.

“How did they end up talking again anyway? I never saw them hang out before.” Jimin pulled his legs in on the couch and it seemed like he was thinking hard about it.

“Oh wow there is an entire story behind all of it and I’m surprised Tae hasn’t told you.”, you start laughing. “You better go ask him sometime.” 

Both of them looked like they were ready to tickle the answers out of you but they both seemed to have decided that being quiet might be the more gentlemen thing to do.

 “What should we do? Should we get some drinks? Or watch a movie?” Jungkook asked after a while of catching up about each other’s schedules and Jimin got up after looking at his phone.

“I’m meeting up with Yoongi and Hoseok, I can’t. You can come if you want to?”, he asked, running his fingers through his hair while opening the room door.

“I can’t go out or be seen.”, you smile excusing and he nodded understanding.

“Okay, then I hope you’ll be here after we return from dinner to hang some more. See you guys.” Leaving the room he closed the door and there was a sudden moment of silence that made you chuckle and after looking over at Jungkook, you couldn’t help but notice that he definitely had been working out more. He seemed thinner, more toned, you could’ve sworn his jaw never stood out like that before. 

“You really went all out, didn’t you..”, you mentioned, poking his firm chest once and he put both his hands over it a little shy and protective before he started chuckling, his ears turning slightly pink.

“What do you mean?” 

“Oh you know very well what I mean don’t make me compliment you.”, you laugh and he got up with a smirk on his face because you hit the mark with your statement. 

 “So do you want to watch a movie? Game? Order food? We haven’t made a cover in a while.” He mentioned in thoughts as he walked across the room while making different offers, switching on a floor lamp and a couple of lights on the shelves before turning off the ceiling lamps, turning the room into a more dimmed and chilled mood. 

Although you, like everyone else, had always thought of him to be very attractive, seeing him with his slightly longer, messy hair in a sweatshirt and sweats - you couldn’t help but wonder how things had changed under that sweatshirt... 

“I don’t know, what are you up for? I’m too exhausted for gaming. I’d fuck it all up for you. Movie and food? ”, you ask and sit up to walk over, dropping on his bed to get your phone out and look through all the places to order from. 

“Do you want fried chicken? Or ramen? I don’t know why but I’m really craving some soup right now.”, you chuckle and the bed dipped down by your waist when he dropped down on it next to you, looking at your phone screen as well to choose one of the options. 

“I’m always for fried chicken? Totally your call. I’m good with anything.” He sat up more, leaning against the headrest as he pulled two remotes from his nightstand to let down a massive white screen on the opposite wall to project movies on.

“Oh my god since when do you have that?” You sat up, crossing your legs to watch the screen roll down slowly, all amazed by the size and quality of it.

“To impress hundreds of innocent girls coming in here.”, he chuckled and you rolled your eyes, looking over to him because he was mocking your reaction a bit.

“Oh, yea because there are sooo many girls in here all the time. You’re lucky they like me and allowed me in after that stupid no people in dorms rule.”, you chuckle and he shrugged. 

“I have a lot more freedom now than I used to. Which is also why you’re here - because I’m a biiig boy now.”, he laughed and you couldn’t help but agree with his statement. They hadn’t even flinched when you announced your arrival to the security team, letting you through without any issues.

 “Crazy how much things have changed, isn’t it? I mean obviously things are going amazing for all seven of you but also little things. You’re not the Maknea anymore and all of that, crazy to think that. I mean in this setting right now you are, but who’s really keeping a record, you know?” You smirk while teasing him, getting a little lost in your thoughts, watching him look through the movies to pick from, and eventually turn your attention back to ordering food on your phone, handing it to him then so he could pick some things for himself. “You enjoy this way too much.”, he mumbles quietly.

“Sometimes I forget how far we’ve all come, honestly. We met when both of us were... what, seventeen?”, he asked and smirked.  

“Well I was, you were sixteen. Don’t try and brush your age under the carpet, I’ll forever be older than you. Wiser, prettier, more talented... ”, you smirked and he rolled his eyes.

“Want me to formally talk to you? Pour your drinks first?” Jungkook asked a bit cocky and you looked at him as if you had to think about it for a moment.

“You know what? That’d be super fucking great actually.” 

Laughing at your cursing he shook his head, ordering his food quickly before dropping the topic, both of you rummaged through all the movie options available to you. 

 The food arrived and you still hadn’t picked a movie and eventually the both of you played rock paper scissors for the power choice, with you winning it meant you were going to pick one of the horror movies you enjoyed watching only with him. It was going to be a win-win situation.

“I usually hate eating in bed.”, he mumbled as he unfolded his fried chicken box, careful not to get crumbs on it. “We can put a blanket down so it doesn’t ruin your sheets?” 

After getting up, putting down a blanket, and then opening the food while watching the movie, both of you were sitting down content and happy for a solid thirty minutes with comfortable silence only interrupted by the occasional ramen slurping from either of you, switching bowls and items between each other. 

Namjoon had burst in at one point, looking surprised at your presence in the room and saying hi to chat a couple of minutes before leaving again. It had been so nice to relax and feel like a normal person in their twenties without any obligations, feeling trapped or like all eyes were on you. It was relaxing and you really appreciated Jungkook for being the lowkey, chill person he was. 

 “You know -”, he started talking after both of you had finished eating, lying down all comfortable and stuffed to the brim, ready to enjoy the second movie you had just started.

Lying on your side and hugging in the massive pillow a bit, you looked up to him snuggled all cozy and cute next to you in the pillow. “I kind of missed you, not going to lie. It has always been nice to have someone from outside the group that’s.. you know - not a dude.”, he chuckled and looked over smiling. You weren’t sure what kind of undertone was swinging in that comment so you just waited for him to elaborate.

“I don’t get to see loads of people because of schedules and all. I mean I don’t have to tell you, you know what it’s like but I’m just saying it’s nice we have kept in contact all this time. And it’s fun seeing each other grow up. I haven’t seen you in a long time and you’ve changed a lot since I last saw you.”, he chuckled and looked down at your face.

“I hope what you’re trying to say is I got more talented, funnier, prettier, more toned I’ve been working out you know I’m a muscle machine... ”, you joked, counting it off on your fingers and he laughed at your comment, putting one of his arms behind his head, looking back to the screen. 

“You’ve always been super pretty, there was nothing to improve.”, he chuckled and you kept looking at him, waiting for another reaction but his gaze was focused on the tv, if purposely out of interest in the movie or simply to not look at you was unclear. 

“Thank you..?”, you mumbled hesitantly and he chuckled at the sound of confusion in your voice, looking back down at you.

“You’re very welcome.” The smile on his face was so bright that all of a sudden you noticed the lack of distance between your body and his. Both of you weren’t close or intertwined on the bed, there was still a good amount of space between the both of you but the comment about how he had always thought of you as pretty, somehow made that distance seem significantly smaller.

“Rich coming from you, but - ok.”, you chuckle quietly and knew he understood immediately that this was supposed to be a compliment judging by his lack of response from being shy. 

The movie had turned into a third one and you couldn’t help but doze off a couple of times, your mind heavy from all the stress you’ve been having over the past couple of months and being in the comfort of someone who made you feel great just the way you were, combined with the dimmed lights and a full belly, it hadn’t taken you long to fall asleep. 

You felt him get up at one point and leave the room and you only woke up again as he laid back down next to you, putting a blanket over you quietly. 

 The next time you woke up, the movie screen was playing the end credits, music blasting through the speakers as you frowned, disoriented for a couple of seconds. Only then you realized Jungkook’s head was buried at the crook of your neck, his body leaned towards yours, him almost laying on his stomach next to you, cuddled into your side, breathing deep and slow as he was sleeping. His breath was tickling your neck which made you wake up in the first place and the sudden lack of proximity between both of you made your stomach twist in a surprisingly good way.

You pondered for a moment, thinking about if you should act like you were sleeping and just enjoying how warm his body was or if you should scoot out before he woke up so he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable or intrusive. 

Selfishly, maybe a little dazed by the scent of his freshly washed clothes and hair lulling you in, you opted for closing your eyes and turning your body towards his more, enjoying having someone close which you hadn’t felt since joining the company all those years ago - not soft like this at least.

Through your almost completely closed eyes, you could see that he had woken up just now, lifting his head suddenly confused by the position both of you were sleeping in, just like you were a minute ago, and to your surprise, you could see him look at your face for a brief second longer, lingering, before laying back down on his stomach, scooting in an inch closer, making your bodies touch. Although it was in an innocent way of sleeping next to each other, you could feel the heat radiate from his body, making you tingle and feel like wanting to giggle. Taking it a step further, you reached your hand out, seemingly still sleeping, and wrapped it around his back, leaning in cuddly, resting your hand on his waist. You couldn’t help but feel like your arm was very heavy on his back and suddenly regretted your decision. What if this was something he didn’t even want? You could still always act like you were asleep but you hadn’t even thought about how he would feel about that move of yours. The urge to do it alone confused you completely since it was Jungkook you were lying next to - not just anyone. It was one of your closest friends, not your lover.

 Hesitantly you stretch your arm, acting as if you were just waking up, pulling it back in onto your chest slowly and start blinking. You were curious to see if he was going to play the asleep role a little longer or not, curious to see what happened now that you had done a little more than what friends would’ve done in their sleep. 

Opening your eyes, them genuinely feeling heavy from being in a daze and the dimmed light in the room, you tilt your head over to look at his face. To your surprise, his eyes were openly looking at yours, you could see his back rise and fall with every breath and he didn’t do anything except look at you, not saying a word. 

His gaze made your cheeks feel hot and you knew that they were blushing. Cursing yourself for your weak reaction and being so obvious about the fact that you knew what happened, otherwise you wouldn’t have blushed, you felt like an idiot for openly making this feel awkward although it seemed like you were the only one feeling awkward in this situation. 

 Jungkook’s lips grew into a soft smile, looking at your features, slowly letting his gaze drift over your face before turning his head into the pillow, smiling shy to himself. You could see the corner of his mouths turned into a bright smile in his pillow and the affirmation of his behavior made your heart jump a little more than it already has 

You weren’t sure what to do now since you hadn’t been in a situation like this in a while - in fact, you had never been in a situation like this at all which made you hope that Jungkook was going to do something now, anything to guide this weird situation in one of two directions: he was either going to confirm your suspicions, making it obvious that what just happened, didn’t happen on accident but because he wanted it to - or second, he was going to turn this around and make it feel comfortable and easy, putting it off as two friends just falling asleep and accidentally waking up almost in each other’s arms. 

Either way - he had to make a move because you wouldn’t be able to do it for him. 

 As if reading your mind, he turned around to his side, facing you and stretched his arms and legs, yawning into the pillow, looking like a soft marshmallow, making your heartache a little bit with the urge to reach out and touch his cheek and lip softly.

There you were, just staring at him comfortably and when he noticed your gaze he gave you another bright smile, scrunching up his nose gently which gave you the deadly shot you had needed to know that there was no point of return for you now. 

 When you started speaking after the silence all you could get out was a whisper. “I should really go, I’m already going to be in a lot of trouble for coming back so late.”, you mumble into the pillow and his eyes examined your face carefully, looking for something he couldn’t quite put his finger on yet.

“Okay, let me drive you.”, he smiled and although it took both of you a couple of minutes, you managed to crawl out of the bed heavy-hearted. Taking a deep breath, stroking your hair back and hoping that you didn’t look like a complete mess, you went to grab your things, following Jungkook out the door to the hallway.

 “Ah, good. I was just about to kick you out so you don’t get in trouble. Mina left earlier - can you believe they’re lovey-dovey all of a sudden? Still freaks me out. He’s so tiny... ”, Namjoon said laughing and you smiled at him.

“Yea happens to the best. People growing up, I bet they’re doing loads of dirty things together.”, you teased a little bit, seeing his almost ‘shocked parent’ expression. “And thank you. I fell asleep so that was on me. I’ll see you guys soon though. And you don’t have to drive me, I can take a cab.” You stirred the conversation away before Namjoon could get mad at you for being disrespectful and smiled at Jungkook instead, trying to sound as casual as possible and not wanting to cause any inconveniences since you were well aware he had to start early as well tomorrow.

“It’s no problem, really.”, he smiled and you knew that this was off for him judging by Namjoon’s confused look while Jungkook went to grab the keys and put on his shoes, along with his coat.

“Thanks.”, you smile at Jungkook, waiting by the door. “And thank you again. Good luck with the tour if I don’t see you before that.” Bowing your head a little bit towards Namjoon you walked over to the elevator with a smile on your lips, feeling nervous and excited for the car ride ahead.

 “Dirty things together? You really want him to kick you out, don’t you.”, Jungkook laughed once the elevator doors closed and it started moving.

“I don’t know why I said that -  I panicked.”, you admit chuckling and following him down to the parking garage you look at all the fancy cars standing there, none of the members ever able to drive them properly so all they did was appreciate the beauty when they walked past them. 

“Such a waste.”, you mumble as you walk past Hoseok’s G-wagon with a sad expression on your face. It was a matt grey color, almost a green tone, looking exactly as extra and badass as you’d expect Hoseok to look in a car like that one. 

“Wait till you see the luxury vehicle we’re going to have to take.” He pushed the button on the car key and the Hyundai Palisade’s lights started flashing.

“Honestly, this car still confuses me because the front is ugly and the back looks like a Range Rover.”, you admit and Jungkook chuckles as both of you get in the car.

“Sure you don’t want me to drive?” The little dig at his car crash back in the day made him squint his eyes in your direction, seemingly not amused.

“Do you want to walk?”, he retaliated and you lifted your hands in defense, putting your seatbelt on quietly. Sometimes it was hard not to tease him because truth be told, he was kind of sexy when he got a little mad and annoyed or disappointed. 

“Can I at least be in charge of music?” 

He drove out of the parking spot smoothly, making his way out of the garage. Jungkook was a good driver and you knew he was. 

“God they’re already mad.”, you mumble looking at your phone but deciding to ignore trouble until you had to face it face to face in about twenty minutes, you closed the conversation to plug your phone in and got right to picking some good tunes. 

One of your favorite things was hearing Jungkook sing in enclosed spaces like cars or small rooms because his voice seemed to fill out the entire space, going through your brain and tingling it in all the right spaces. His voice was everything and when both of you sang together and you got to perfectly harmonize because both of you were perfectionists, those were the moments that truly made you happy in your friendship. 

Each of you recommending songs, both of you immediately got to singing along together, trying to find an even better one until silence dominated the car ride, making both of you enjoy the songs and just listening to them while driving through the still busy streets. 

“Car rides always freak me out, what if someone sees us at the light.”, you chuckle and Jungkook shrugs smiling, resting his elbow on the car door, sliding his hand through the hair on his neck absent-minded, making you want to scream from excitement. 

“They won’t. Don’t worry.” He smiled and started singing along to the song playing and only now you realized what kind of song had come up next in your playlist. ‘Outta my head’ by Khalid was one of your favorite songs at the moment but given the context of the earlier situation, it just seemed to hit a little different this time with both of you in the small car together and your brain going foggy only thinking about how Jungkook was snuggled in by your side earlier, smelling like heaven. 

 “I was thinking, maybe next time we can make food instead of order? You still want to show me how to make those Italian little balls we had last time.”, he stated as the red light turned green, driving off into the street of your apartment.

“You mean Gnocchi?”, you start laughing and he seemed a little embarrassed by your reaction. “They’re... I mean yeah, we can do that if you’d like.”, you chuckle smiling as he stops the car in front of your apartment. 

“Perfect, I’ll text you then.” He put the car in park and smiled over.

“Thank you for driving me and distracting me tonight. I had a lot of fun. Even not having to sleep alone made me happy.”, you smiled at him, hoping he got the little nudge and without wasting too much time and being suspicious, you exited the car and smiled at him, the door still open.

“Anytime. I’m glad you came over and stayed. I’ll see you at MCountdown?” You nodded smiling. His eyes met yours with a sincere expression and with your cheeks blushing one last time, followed by a shy smile, you nodded and closed the door, waving to him one more time before walking towards your apartment building. When you looked over your shoulder, he was sitting in the car, waiting for you to get inside safely and when you gave him a last quick wave before opening the door, he smiled to himself knowing you were safe inside, starting the car again and disappearing into the night. 

Whatever just happened was going to only be the beginning of what was about to come. 

If you’ve managed to read this far, I’d be more than happy if you could like and share my first chapter if you enjoyed it! If you have any suggestions for improvement or any drabble requests - make sure to shoot me a message! 

thank you so much for reading and I hope you’ll stay for the second chapter 💖

© kooala (stealing, translating or reuploading to other sites is prohibited.)

#bts #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #jungkook fic #jungkook drabble #jk x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jk fluff #bts fic #bts drabble #jungkook friends to lovers #jk friends to lovers #kohkwriting #taehyung #tae #v #namjoon #joon #rm #jimin #park jimin #jiminie #y/n #jungkook x y/n #bangtanscenery #kooala writing

[the-mighty-jellybean]

Rising From The Earth

Series Summary: After months of trying, and several heats, and ruts, Y/N was now beginning her journey on her road to motherhood. All Steve and Bucky wanted to be is supportive and strong for their Omega, but life doesn't always run so smoothly....

Series Warning: a/b/o dynamics (the fun stuff that comes with that) Smut, Accurate Representation of Pregnancy and (eventually) Childbirth, Strong Language (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader X Bucky Barnes

Part One// Part Two// Part Three// Part Four// Part Five// Part Six// Part Seven// Part Eight// Part Nine// 

Part Ten: Llama Classes

Chapter Warnings: I don't really know?

Word Count: 3.1K

30 Weeks.

After four weeks, Bucky had completely healed, and three of you were back in the comfort of your little room on the residential floor of the compound. With Bucky fully recovered, your’s and your Alphas’ attention was back on the preparation for the arrival of your pups. 

“I can’t believe in 10 weeks, we’re gonna have two little pups running around.” Bucky sighed, his hand resting on your stomach, softly stroking over the outline of a foot, pressing against your skin. 

“They aren't going to be running around for a while, Alpha.” you giggles, playing with his hair. 

“I know, but you know what I mean.” he presses his lips to your bump, and you feel one of twins, roll under his lips. 

“One of them really likes it when you do that.” you wheeze slightly, when the kicking got a little stronger, one landing right in your ribs. 

“Sorry, sweetheart. Am I making them hurt you?” Bucky looks up at you with guilt in his eyes. You shift uncomfortably on the couch, sitting up more. Steve moves from his position of leaning on the kitchen side, to pick up a cushion from the other couch, and places it behind your back. 

“Do you want to sit on the ball for a bit, baby?” Steve asks you, rubbing along your shoulders. You nod, and Bucky swiftly gets up from the couch to grab your ball, that was sitting in the corner of your room. He bounced it over to you and Steve, as Steve assisted you in helping you stand. 

You waddled the short distance, to Bucky, before lowering yourself onto the ball. Steve grabbed a chair that was under the dinning room table, and set it behind you. He sat down, and began rubbing his thumbs over your hips, as you gently bobbed up and down, pressure in your pelvis slowly vanishing. 

“You know, Dr Cho said we should start preparing for the birth.” Steve speaks, as he rests his chin over your shoulder, Bucky grabbed another chair, sitting himself in front of you. 

“I thought we were already.” you giggled, motioning to your growing bump; Steve and Bucky chuckled. 

“No as in: looking into breathing techniques, and positions you find comfortable.” Steve explained, placing a kiss on your shoulder blade. 

“Oh, you mean like lamaze classes?” you asked, turning to look at him, only to be met with a very confused look. 

“What’s a llama class?” Bucky finally broke the confused silence. 

“Not llama.” you giggle, “Lamaze.”

“What’s that, when it’s at home?” 

“It’s techniques used to build a mother’s confidence in her ability to give birth, through the presentations of classes that help pregnant women understand how to cope with the pain of labour.”  you explain, laughing at your Alphas facial expressions of bewilderment. 

“Since when did you become Dr Cho?” Bucky teases, but smiles at you with a look of pride. 

“Wanda gave me a book.” you point towards your bookshelf that was filled with several pregnancy books, “maybe more than one.” you giggle.  

“Who’d a thought Wanda would be the llama class expert?” Bucky shrugged.

“Lamaaaaaze, Alpha.” you correct him. 

“That’s what I said llammmmas.” Bucky jokes, kissing your lips before you could correct him again. 

“Well what do these books say, sweetheart?” Steve moves on, continuing his soothing massage on your hips. 

“Ummm...to take lots of deep breaths.” you guessed, you hadn't actually gotten round to reading many of the books, what with Bucky being in recovery, you spent most of your time trying to help Steve, take care of him. 

“You haven't read them, have you baby?” Steve taunts, trying to catch your eye, but suddenly you were finding the ceiling very interesting. 

“Errrrr.” 

“Baby.” Bucky warns, you look at him, then turn to Steve. You squint as you shake your head no. Steve and Bucky, both sigh a laugh. 

“It’s alright, sweetie. We’ve fallen behind in our research as well.” Steve kisses your neck, just above your bond mark, and you nuzzle your head against him. 

“Wanda said; there were a few videos online.” 

“How does that work?” Bucky, rubbed his hands up and down your thighs, when you flinched a little, he sensed one of the pups had landed another nasty kick to your insides. 

“Basically, there’s a woman, who’s dressed in yoga attire, and looks as if she has never given birth before, sitting cross legged on a mat, whilst showing you several positions, and breathing techniques, as well as, a few videos.” you explain. 

“Have you seen any of these videos?” Bucky asked you, grabbing Steve’s tablet and looking up ‘Lamaze classes’ on YouTube. 

“Sam and I, only got through 2 minutes, before we had to switch it off.” you smile at the memory. 

“Why’s that?” Bucky looked up from the tablet once he found one, that looked perfectly harmless.

“We couldn’t stop laughing.” you confessed. 

It was true, you had tried to watch one of these videos, with Sam, but he was probably not your best choice. Bar the awkward positions, the woman was showing you, Sam kept repeating the woman’s words, as he mimicked the her voice. But It really broke the pair of you, when the woman went onto all fours, and began to moo; it was at that point, you and Sam decided to call it a day.

“Honey, you need to take this seriously. You’re gonna be pushing two babies out. If these women can help you find ways to cope with the pain, then you need to listen to them.” Steve reprimanded you slightly. You couldn't help the eye roll that arose from you. 

“Thanks for reminding me.” you mumble, rubbing over your squirming bump. Steve sighed, and combed his fingers through your hair. 

“Okay I’ll let that eye roll go, but you need to prepare yourself, darlin. We all do.” Steve says, turning to Bucky, who nods in agreement. 

“Look, what about this one?” Bucky shows you the screen, you sigh mentally, thanking God that it wasn’t the one you and Sam had attempted. It looked similar, but you shrugged an okay. Maybe it would be different with your Alphas. 

“We need to make some space.” you noted, Bucky nodded and stood up, handing you the tablet, whilst he moved the coffee table out of the way, and pushed the sofa backwards. 

Steve helped you to stand, and guided you towards the space, Bucky was making. 

“Do you want a pillow, sweetheart?” Steve asks you, before he set you down. 

You nod, the carpet was soft, but not very thick, and it would cause havoc with your heavy hips. Steve allows you to move your grip to Bucky, and grabs a couple of pillows off your bed, he sits on the floor, placing the pillows between his legs. 

He takes hold of your hands, as he and Bucky help you lower yourself to the floor, settling you in Steve’s lap. 

“How’s that, honey?” Steve asks wrapping his arms around you. 

“It feels okay.” you smile, wiggling back into the warmth of Steve’s chest. Bucky goes and grabs the tablet from the kitchen table, and balances it on the TV stand, so you could all see it clearly, pressing play.

The lady begins to speak, and Bucky sits himself, next to Steve placing one of his hands on your ankle, gently rubbing it. 

“Okay so what we wanted to do, is make sure the mother is completely relaxed. Last thing we want is the mother to feel tense and up tight, this will stop baby from progressing downwards.” Her nasally voice, was grating on you slightly, but you grin and bear it, for Bucky and Steve’s sake. 

Steve begins to copy the back massage the woman was showcasing in the video. You weren’t going to lie, this did feel really nice, and you did feel yourself relaxing slightly.

“Is that nice, baby?” Bucky smiles at you, as you close your eyes, almost drifting off at the feeling of Steve’s fingers. 

“Mmhmm.” you hum, too absorbed in the steady motion Steve was performing on your back. 

You nearly whined when the woman began to speak again, severing the peaceful silence that had filled the room. 

“The next thing we want to try is; breathing. One of the most common things a mother in labour can do wrong is her breathing technique. Whether the motions of labour are building too fast, or the technique you are trying to use isn't working, a labouring mother can often forget, or lose faith, in the power of breathing.” 

You snort a little at her last statement, earning a disapproving look from your Alphas. 

“Pay attention, sweetheart.” Bucky reminds you, you let a heavy sigh out, but turn your attention back to the video. 

“Lamaze breathing, is a technique based on the idea that controlled breathing can enhance relaxation and decrease the perception of pain. During the first stage of labour: start with a slow deep breath as your contraction starts and then slowly breathe out, releasing all physical tension from your head to your toes.” 

Bucky turned to you, and you felt Steve rest his chin on your shoulder, you face flushes slightly, as you turn away from them, and burry your burning face into Steve’s other shoulder. 

“Come on, baby. Don't be shy.” Steve encourages you, but you can’t help it, you were embarrassed to do this technique when there was no reason to do it. 

“Look, we’ll do it with you, sweetheart.” Bucky consoles. You slowly turn to face him, taking his hands, and meeting his eyes. 

“Slowly inhale through your nose.” you and Bucky both, breath in deeply, you feel Steve’s chest behind you rise also. “Then pause.”

“Then slowly exhale through your mouth.” you feel yourself sink, and the hairs on the back of your neck tingle slightly, when Steve releases his breath, you and Bucky following suit.

“Every time you exhale, focus on relaxing a different body part.” 

“Relax your shoulders, honey.” Steve suggests, rubbing over your tensed shoulders slightly. You try as best you can, but you were still feeling self conscious. And things only got worst, as your heart rate picked up, when the woman explained the next section of the video. 

“That breathing technique is used, when a labouring mother is in the first stage of labour. This is a important section, as it is the starting block, and can often set the atmosphere for the whole labour. For example here is a woman using her lamaze breathing correctly...” the video cut to a semi-naked heavily pregnant woman, who was giving the impression of a star student. Twinkly music played, as the woman exhibited the breathing you had been told to do moments ago. The whole scene looked idilic, and it did calm you, marginally. 

Until the woman, opened her mouth again:

“And this is an example of a mother breathing incorrectly...” within a few seconds the tranquil images of practically mother nature herself, were replaced by true anguish and pain, as the woman now in front of you was wailing and screaming at the top of her lungs. The woman thrashed around in her partners arms, shouting and screeching at the top of her lungs. 

You audibly gulp, and Steve pulls you tighter to him, hoping he can provide you with some reassurance. Your eyes dart to Bucky, who’s own eyes are stretched wide, as he watches the horror scene unfold. 

Thankfully the clip comes to an end, and the woman begins to speak again:

“That was how a mother can lose control during labour, it is especially important for a mother to grasp control at the first stage of labour...”

You zone out for a bit, the words ‘first stage’ bounced around your head. ‘First Stage’, if that was the first stage, God knows how the rest of the labour is going to be.

You glance over at Bucky, who still looks rather pale, and his mouth is slightly agape. If that was how he was going to be when the time came, you didn’t know how you were going to cope. Your only hope was that Steve would be able to support both of you. 

The woman continues to explain the breathing techniques for active labour, before she moved on to talk about transition, one of the last stages in labour, before you actually push the baby out. 

“As you switch to light breathing during active labour, transition breathing can help control feelings of despair and exhaustion.”

“Oh that’s really encouraging.” you sass, Steve squeezes your thigh, “what she’s telling me I’m going start feeling desperate and exhausted, this video is not exactly painting the picture I thought it would.” 

“Sh, baby. I’m trying to listen. If you’re not going to, then at least one of us, needs to know how to keep you calm.” Steve looks over to Bucky as he speaks, “and by the looks of things, Alpha’s not going to be the best man for the job.” 

“What?” Bucky shakes his head, of the images that were still replaying in his head, of the howling woman, looking now at you and Steve. Steve had a face of serious focus, whilst you were smirking at him slightly. 

“Nothing, dear. Now shush the both of you I’m trying to concentrate.” you roll your eyes, but Steve’s not paying attention as he goes back to listening intently. 

“The breathing you are going to want to use for this phase of your labour revolves around finding a focus point- a picture, your partner, or a spot on the wall. When a contraction starts to build, breath in and out your mouth at a rate of 1 to 10 breaths every 5 seconds.” 

“That sounds very complicated.” you commented, as you began to try and figure out what she meant, by this weird and mathematical way of breathing. 

“She means that you need to pant, sweetheart.” Steve clarifies, you making an ‘oh’ face, and you catch the smirk, in his reflection in the TV. 

The woman had finally stopped talking about breathing techniques, but once again your cheeks flushed, when the woman began to show you different positions to be in. 

“Oh God.” you mutter, when the woman, who now had a partner, had her arms hanging around his neck, whilst she squatted down. You silently begged Steve not to make you do it, but both he and Bucky said you needed to find what was comfortable. 

“But it’s embarrassing, Alpha.” you whine, as he makes you stand. 

“You won't find it embarrassing when your in labour.” Steve reprimanded you. 

“Exactly, we can just watch the silly lady do her positions, memorise them, and then when the time comes, try them out.” you shrug, but Steve shakes his head, and makes you wrap your arms around his neck. 

“Sweetheart, when you’re in labour, you won't know what to think. If we know now what you like and don't like, Alpha and I can work around you. And that way we don't make you do a position that you find uncomfortable or awkward.” Steve justifies. You huff a little, but you do as the woman does, and move into a squatting position, holding onto Steve. 

You had been in the position for less than a second, when you stood up again, and shook your head, your cheeks, light shade of pink.

“No I don't like that one, it make me feel self-conscious.” you huff. Steve and Bucky sigh heavily, but nod their heads, excepting your complaints. The next one was still a standing position.

This time you had your back to Bucky’s chest, whilst his arms cirlced around you, and held you up, just above your belly, your hands clasping his. You didn’t mind this one, Bucky’s arms around you, and his chin resting on your shoulder made you feel less exposed. 

“You like this one, baby?” Bucky asked, you nod, and you can feel his smile through your shirt, as he presses his lips to you shoulder. 

“She’s saying you can push like this, darlin.” Steve says, his eyes focusing on the tablet, as he watched the women bend her knees slightly, and pretend to bare down. 

“I don't know, I think I’d get tired, my back already aches a little in this position.” Steve nods, happy you’re finally co-operating. Bucky helps to lower yourself to the floor, as the next position involves you being on your knees.

You are resting your arms on the exercise ball, and you feel a little more relaxed, as the position allowed you to rock backwards and forwards, relieving any strain from your pelvis, and hips. 

“I like this one, a lot.” you moan a little, as Bucky begins to do the massage, Steve had done earlier. 

“This ones good, because you have gravity helping you. I read, that is the best thing for you, to help move labour along.” Bucky perks up, clearly his late night reading had come in useful, finally. 

“Another position you could do, darlin, is the one you and I did earlier, where you’re sat between my legs, did you like that one?” Steve asks you, kneeling down next to your side.

You were content to sit here and rock backwards and forwards, the motion had soothed the kicking babies, to the point they now felt a little heavier, which meant they had most likely fallen alseep.  

“I liked that one too, Alpha. Having you close to me, helped to keep me calm.” you mumble through your arms, just loud enough for them to hear. 

“Alright, baby. Looks like we've learned a few things after all.” Steve smiled, you lazily smiled back at him, as you turned your head, so you could meet his gaze. 

“Too right we have.” Bucky exclaims, you furrow your eyebrows, Steve matching you, as you both look over at Bucky. 

“What?” he looks at you with confusion. 

“Alpha, you could barely keep your eyes open, when that woman started screaming.” you point out, Steve snickered. 

“Yeah, but...I now know that I need to keep you calm, so that you won't be in that much pain.” 

“Alpha it doesn't matter what breathing I do, I’ll still feel that pain. It’s how I handle it, that will determine, how I show that pain.” you sigh, rocking back and forth. 

“Baby girl, you need to keep positive.” Steve reminded you, rubbing his hand along you shoulder blades.

“I know, Alpha, I know.” you murmur. 

“What do you need to remember?” Steve raised one of his eyebrows. 

“That you will be there.” you exhale, turning to look at both your mates.

“Which means?” Bucky says, lifting your chin, and stroking his thumb over your cheek.

“Everything will be alright.”  

A/N: Getting close now! Anyone got any suggestions for baby names...pop them in my ask box. I need a hand to help me decide! 

Part Eleven//

TAGLIST:

@mikariell95 @sexyvixen7 @booboobella01 @rororo06 @vickstaahh @krazykatkay456​ @winchester-wifey​ @nightlygiggles​ @coonflix​ @broco8​ @animegirlgeeky​ @amanda-the-fangirl​ @brunettebabylou @flyaway1221​ @frozenhuntress67​ @colourforanamee​ @bisexualbaby2001​ @dottirose​

#alpha!steve #alpha!bucky #omega!reader #reader insert #pregnant reader #pregnancy #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #a/b/o dynamics #avengers a/b/o #steve rogers #steve x reader #steve fic #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky fic #stucky x reader #stucky

[not-close-to-straight]

You Give Love a Bad Name (Four)

MASTERLIST

*****************

Chapter Four: Somewhere Classified

“What do you mean, the house was empty?” Alexander Pierce pushed aside his cocktail in favor of rubbing at his eyes wearily. “How was it empty?” 

“Not just empty sir, but shot to hell.” Brock said on the other line. “I think they went at it and tried to kill each other and then when they couldn’t, they ran together.” 

“The Black Widow and Winter Soldier wouldn’t run together even if the goddamn world was ending.” Pierce denied. “Additional options. A safe room built beneath the house?” 

“Found it, destroyed it. The weapons racks were empty, so wherever the Soldier got off to, he’s well armed.” 

“And the Widow?” 

“She’s got bug out spots all over the country. We’ll never find her.” 

“Damn it.” Pierce forced out an uneven breath. “Okay, you and your team stay on it. I’ve got to make a call to someone who might actually know what to do with this mess.” 

“Oh no, not--” 

“Yep.” he nodded grimly. “Stay on them and report back to me immediately with any word.” 

“Yes sir.” 

The phone went dead and Pierce pulled a different one out from a locked drawer, banged his head against the desk a few times and then finally dialed the only number he actually knew by heart. 

“What do you want, Pierce?” 

“Fury.” Pierce pursed his lips and tried for patience. “The worst has happened.” 

“Oh motherfucker.” 

************

************

“All I’m saying is that we could have jacked something better than a minivan.” Bucky complained as he merged into freeway traffic. “It’s like driving a bus, but somehow this is less cool than a bus.” 

“Minivans are the vehicles people remember the least.” Natasha propped her little feet up on the dash and took a bite out of Bucky’s candy bar. “Their basic design hasn’t changed in the last decade, they rarely come in colors other than white, and people don’t want to look at them. No one wants to see a stressed out dad, exhausted mom and four bratty ass kids unload from a vehicle with sliding doors, sticky seats and a plethora of suburban paraphernalia.” 

“Damn baby, you got something against minivans?” Bucky reached across the middle console and spread his big hand across Nat’s thigh. “You sound fifty shades of bitter about them. Oh and by the way, super glad the only thing that survived our little war last night was your summer skirt. My god, do your legs look good in this.” 

“My legs do look good in this.” Natasha admired the shape of her calves beneath the flowy skirt. “I hate minivans because every day for the last three years, the Stepford wives have been asking me when we’ll have kids and offering me advice on which minivan to get. And by the way? I knew you stole my copy of Fifty Shades of Grey. I knew it.” 

“I didn’t steal it.” Bucky disagreed. “I threw that shit away. You want someone to tie you up, just ask. Don’t read that nonsense, it’s abuse pretending to be romance. You want to be dommed sugar, I can do that all night long. But don’t read that trash and get off to it when it’s nothing good.” 

Natasha cut her eyes at him curiously. “You have….very strong feelings about that book.” 

“I have very strong feelings about my wife looking for something gross when I’d’a been more than happy to give her something real.” Bucky snapped, then swore and shook his head. “Don’t mean to yell, sorry, I just--” 

“I think it’s terribly romantic that you would have tried that sort of thing with me if I’d wanted.” Natasha had to climb over most of the console to kiss Bucky’s cheek, but she did it anyway. “But I wasn’t reading it because I liked it, or got off to it or anything like that.” 

“No?” 

“Remember that diplomat that got killed last year? He was into it, so when word got out he was looking for a sort of specific scene and liked those books, I read up on them to see what it was like.” 

“So what?” Bucky shot her a scandalized look. “You got the guy naked and all subby and then killed him?” 

“Men like him deserve to be killed with their dick out.” she answered calmly. “Take this next exit, please.” 

“It wasn’t my real parents at our wedding.” Bucky said as he switched lanes. “I paid a nice couple in the hotel five hundred bucks to stand up with me.” 

“My sister who was my maid of honor is actually Maria Hill, covert ops, all around bad ass and probably on the list of people trying to kill us right now.” she commented. “Stay left and take the road around.” 

“I’m not allergic to fish, I just hate how you cook salmon.” Bucky slowed down to take the corner and grumbled about how unwieldy the minivan was. “Use some damn salt, Nat.” 

“Eh, like I said.” she shrugged. “I haven’t cooked a day in my life, no harm done. What’s your favorite color?” 

“Green.” Bucky pointed to her eyes. “What about you?” 

“Your favorite color is my eye color?” Natasha asked suspiciously. “Since when?” 

“Since you took that shot of tequila on the beach and never broke eye contact.” Bucky confirmed. “I was basically fucked from that point.” 

“You were basically fucked.” she agreed. “I rode you hard and put you away wet.” 

“All about that Bronco life, babydoll.” he chuckled. “By the way, why are we going to Fury and not Pierce?”

“Because Fury runs the world and he’ll have the full story whereas Pierce will only have your side of the story.” 

“My side knows things too, Tasha.” 

“Oh not like my side does.” She laughed quietly at his disgruntled expression. “Plus, I helped design our building. I know exactly how to get in and out without making a scene. We’ll get to Fury’s office, erase our files and anything else even slightly incriminating and then we’ll get out and start a new life somewhere outside the borders.” 

“And if we get noticed?” 

“Then we have a minivan full of things that go boom.” Natasha checked on their pile of ammunition, guns and grenades taking over the back two rows of the van. “We’ll be fine.” 

***********

Despite Bucky’s misgivings and how weirdly unsure he was about leaving the minivan parked in a less-than-reputable spot downtown-- “What if it gets stolen, Nat?” “Oh my love, we already stole it once, what’s the harm in it getting snatched a second time?” -- Natasha’s choice to go after Fury’s office proved to be a good one. 

She really did know the building inside and out, right down to which of the man hole covers was a fake and led directly down to tunnels beneath the building, how far down the-- ick-- stinky sewer pipes they had to travel, and which closet they would pop into when the tunnels finally turned up and into the headquarters. 

“This is the supply closet on the first floor. Backside of the security desk.” Natasha whispered as she wriggled out of the trap door and waited for Bucky to follow her. “The desk is for civilians that come in, and there isn’t actually anything on the next twenty levels, just elevator cables and empty floors. Offices start at twenty one and Fury is on twenty six. We’ll have to go through the elevator shaft and hopefully catch a ride on top of one of the cars.” 

“No problem.” Bucky said confidently. “I’ve jumped on top of a car or two in my day. You were in Germany, weren’t you?” 

“I vaguely remember hearing about the Winter Soldier ripping the top off a car on the Autobahn and then blowing up a tunnel.” Natasha slung an automatic rifle over her shoulder, looped a rope around her waist and strapped twin holsters on her thighs. “By the way? I love that you are so capable. This would be at least a thousand times more difficult if you really were the clueless meathead I thought you were.” 

“...you thought I was a clueless meathead?” Bucky sounded halfway to scandalized. “Is it because I’m muscly? C’mon Tash, I can have brains and brawn.” 

Nat only twisted her lips in a smirk and pointed up to the ceiling. “Give me a boost?” 

“Sure thing.” Bucky lifted her easily, first by the waist then holding her steady so she could stand on his shoulders. “You really thought I was clueless, huh?” 

“It was either clueless--” Natasha huffed as she wriggled herself into the air duct that would lead out to the elevator shaft. “Or I had to think that you noticed me keeping my distance and didn’t care enough to try and reach me. The clueless option hurt less.” 

“M’sorry, Tash.” Bucky heaved his bulk up behind her, grimacing when his shoulders pushed against the walls of the duct. “Truth was, it was so nice to keep such an easy cover that by th’time I realized how far away you were and how much I missed ya, it was too late.” 

“Hm.” was Natasha’s only reply before she set off down the duct, her skirt tucked into her waist so the material wouldn’t catch under her knees and trip her up. 

It was a practical choice considering how impractical her skirt was for this sort of mission, but then again, it was her own fault for not wanting to stop and get more clothing and faced with the rather tantalizing view of his wife’s backside, Bucky wasn’t about to complain. 

He was going to comment though. 

“Y’know, I don’t remember you havin’ those sorta panties before.” he reached out and flicked the curve of one ridiculously pretty, barely covered butt cheek. “I would’a remembered these for sure.” 

“Flick my ass again and I’ll break your hand.” Natasha retorted. “And maybe if you would have done laundry every once in a while, maybe you would have seen them.” 

“Yep, that’s fair. I got no idea how to do laundry.” Bucky conceded with a quiet laugh. “Tell ya what, if you’re still wearing these when it’s all said and done, m’gonna take them off with my teeth.” 

“If I’m still wearing them?” 

“Yeah, if I haven’t ripped them off before then, since now that I know what you’re wearin’, it’s all I can think about.” 

“You are worthless.” Natasha decided, and Bucky cheesed, “They don’t call me Bronco cos I’m subtle!” 

The pretty redhead hung her head as she tried to quiet her laughter. “Sweetheart, I am well aware of why they call you Bronco. Now hush up, the elevator shaft is just ahead.” 

The elevators moved fast in this building, swooping down in the blink of an eye and rocketing towards the top floors at dizzying speeds. Natasha wasn’t scared of much, but trying to jump onto a runaway elevator car without plunging to a horrifying death several floors down was sketchy at best, sort of terrifying at worst.

Thankfully-- or not so thankfully, probably-- Bucky wasn’t scared of anything and after decades of less than fun experimentation and constant training and tweaking of his particular brand of super soldier serum, he had lightning fast reflexes and impeccable timing and--

“SHIT!” Natasha yelped when Bucky just pushed her, clamped her mouth shut and prayed when she hung out in mid air on nothing for a few terrifying seconds before the elevator car rushed up to meet her. 

Bucky was on the car a split second later, rolling over and covering Natasha with his bulk until she managed to get her breath back and it was there with Bucky crouched over her and the elevator humming beneath them that Tasha whispered, “You know, I never worried you didn’t have my back. Even when I thought you were clueless.” 

“Hell sugar, I would’a taken on the entire Home Owners Association for you.” Bucky whispered back, dropped a kiss on her ear, then rolled off to crouch into a ready position as the car raced towards the top. “Any chance this thing is gonna crush us into super soldier paste at the top?” 

“Nope, there’s only stairs to Fury’s office, so it will stop one floor above.” Natasha confirmed. “Fury figures if people have to come up the stairs to get to him, he can shoot them all before they reach the landing.” 

“Charming.” 

“Oh yeah, he’s a peach.” 

The elevator slid to a stop quick enough to make their stomachs swoop, and while Natasha peeked down into the car to watch the top floor receptionist get in and push the button for back down, Bucky eyed the steel support beams in the elevator shaft and listened to the timing of the doors on the floor below them. The second he felt the slightest change in the car that signaled it was ready to move, he snatched Tasha around the waist and stepped off onto one of the support beams, held her close while the elevator dropped into the yawning nothing, then made sure she was secure before reaching up above their heads and wrenching an air duct cover free. 

“Up and at’em sugar pie.” he grunted, and Natasha climbed him like a damn tree, clambering up his waist, onto his shoulders and then leaping off to fling herself into the duct. Bucky wasn’t quite as graceful, but while he was trying to get his frame into the narrow space, Natasha cut the wires to the vent security systems and once the nearly imperceptible hum of surveillance shut off, they both breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Yeah babydoll.” Bucky wrapped his left hand around Natasha’s delicate ankle and squeezed gently. “Those undies ain’t gonna last this trip through the vent. You might as well drop trou now, there’s no way I’ll survive looking at your booty this long.” 

“Behave.” Natasha warned, but her green eyes flashed bright enough to make Bucky’s mouth dry. “Once we’re out of here you can do whatever you want to my undies.” 

“Fair deal. Let’s go.” 

The vents let out in the stairs, and the moment they could stand up straight, both spies had weapons drawn and at the ready, watching for any movement, for any cameras that Natasha didn’t remember from before, for anything that sounded like voices on the floor above. 

Up and up and up, and Bucky covered Tasha while she picked the lock, slid through the door to Fury’s office, and made a beeline for the computer at the desk. 

“I thought you said you hated all this tech stuff.” Bucky commented as he watched her fingers fly over the keyboard. “What was that all about?” 

“My love, I also told you it was adorable when you wore sandals and knee high socks.” Natasha glanced up from the computer long enough to send her husband a wry smile. “I lied about both things.” 

“Our entire marriage is a sham.” Bucky lamented, and he was only half joking, mostly sad. “Tash, is anything I know about you true?” 

“I never once faked it in bed.” Natasha kept typing, though her cheeks flushed slightly. “Never once. Even when we were as boringly missionary position vanilla as possible? You were always so good, and I don’t know if I hate it or love it that even when we were lying to each other, you still knew me well enough to wind me up like that.” 

“Never faked, huh?” Bucky felt like maybe he shouldn’t be grinning quite so wide over that admission, and judging by the unimpressed noise Natasha made, she agreed. “Well if it makes you feel any better, I never faked it either.” 

“I’m well aware.” Something blared an alarm on the computer and Natasha cursed under her breath before finishing, “Your mid-nut face is ridiculously stupid, there’s no way you could have faked that.” 

“Fuck you, Tash.” 

“We make it out of here alive, and I’m gonna make you do exactly that.” A few more key strokes and the computer made another one of those alarm noises. “Almost almost almost done, I just need a minute and then I can wipe everything--” 

“Oh I’d hold off on that, if I were you.” Two new voices, Pierce and Fury walking into the office together, the two heads of competing espionage companies looking far too chummy for what they’d just discovered in the office. “No need to be reckless, Romanov.” 

Guns up immediately, Bucky whirling around with rifle at the ready and blocking Natasha from view, thinking he did a good job of it too until he heard the familiar click of her guns on either side of his head and realized she had both pistols up and ready to unleash. 

“I got you, baby doll.” he said easily, and Natasha murmured, “Oh, but I’ve got you first, my love.” 

“This is cute.” Fury motioned between the two of them, his one good eye narrowed curiously. “The way you two act like you love each other instead of acting like you aren’t two minutes from killing each other. Romanov, hands off the button.” 

“Hands are off only because they’re on the trigger.” she said coolly. “Tell me, Director. How long have you known I was cohabiting with the Winter Soldier.” 

“Oh, I can answer that.” Alexander Pierce spoke up then, keeping more distance between himself and the two spies than Fury was, either more aware of exactly what the Winter Soldier could do, or more scared of what either pissed off operative could manage before he had a chance to defend himself. “It was the funniest thing, you know. I sent the Soldier deep cover to recover after replacing his arm. Only pulled him out for the most important assignments and we were ultra lucky that the Black Widow had seemingly retired and wasn’t disrupting our plans. We even hoped the bitch was dead but alas--” 

He smiled tightly at Natasha. “--a pipe dream, as it were. Because about a year and a half ago when Fury and I decided to start sharing intel to take down a common competitor, we discovered that both our top operatives were under cover in the suburbs just outside the city.” 

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” Director Fury cut in again. “All the things I learned when Pierce and I started collaborating and nothing prepared me for the Winter Soldier files. Not his violence, not his vengeance, not the way he looked exactly like the doofus beach bum Natasha had seduced into a sham marriage two years previous.” 

“It was nice to finally get a picture of the Black Widow.” Pierce added. “Not so nice to see a picture of her in pearls and an apron in the holiday card from The Winter Soldier. So we did the only thing we could do.” 

“Which was?” 

“Watching the two of you for the better part of a year to see if you were compromised and sharing information, or if you’d gotten so lax in your duties neither had any idea they were sharing a bed with the enemy.” the Director said flatly. “Sent you both on the same assignment figuring it would kick both your training in. Natasha, I’ve never seen you hesitate on a shot before, and the Winter Soldier has never missed once. By not killing each other, you solved our problem for us.” 

“The problem of how to retire the two most dangerous people in the world.” Pierce confirmed. “And then you pull this little stunt and are up here trying to delete files-- Come on, Romanov. You didn’t think it would be this easy, did you?” 

“I dunno, I thought it was sorta hard. That elevator was no joke” Bucky muttered, and Natasha kicked him in the back of the foot and hissed, “Hush, damn it!”  

“You know as well as I do the protocol for deleting files.” Fury interrupted, wagging his finger warningly. “It’s not so much a delete thing as it is a share it with the world thing. All your covers would be blown, bank accounts frozen, every bit of information including pictures and aliases dumped onto the internet for any yokel to find. Every warrant for your arrest would activate and you’d land on the top of the most wanted list for half the countries in the globe.” 

“Guess we’ll have to find a country without a most wanted list then.” Natasha set her guns down and went back to the computer. “Watch them, baby.” 

“Oh, I got’em.” Bucky promised. “You sure about this though, sugar? Sure you wanna blow it all like that?” 

“It’s either this or they make us kill each other.” Natasha went back to typing, glancing up periodically at the two men. “You know that.” 

“He knows that.” Pierce said confidently. “But I’m willing to make good on our original plan, if you are. I’d rather not lose two valuable agents, let’s cut our losses at one. Whichever one of you puts a bullet in the other right now comes back into the fold, no questions asked, no issues taken.” 

“Same deal goes for you Romanov.” Fury was quick to add when Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Shoot the Soldier in the back and I’ll call off the hit. I don’t want to lose you, but he’s compromised you, so he’s gotta go.” 

Bucky was silent, and the constant click click of computer keys paused as Natasha closed her eyes briefly. 

“Honestly, Barnes.” Bucky’s head shot up in surprise when Pierce used his real name. “Natasha Romanov? The Black Widow? In what universe do you think she actually loves you? Do you really think you could have a happily ever after with her? She can’t cook, she can barely make small talk beyond asking about weapons, hell she can’t even have kids.” 

Behind him, Natasha sucked in a harsh breath and even Fury looked uncomfortable with the sudden turn in the conversation, but Pierce either didn’t notice or didn’t care. 

“How are you going to have a happily ever after with a woman who is less of a woman and more of a machine?” Pierce pressed, growing bolder as the door opened behind him and commandos filed silently in, guns raised and trigger fingers ready. “The Widow is so dedicated to her work she chose to give that up. You can’t tell me she’s going to be happy playing housewife in the suburbs.” 

“Romanov, you brought a building down on the Soldier three years ago knowing full well it would kill him.” Fury growled impatiently when Natasha went back to typing. “Looked down your scope at him and killed him anyway. What’s different now? He lied to you for years.” 

“Yeah, well I lied to him too.” Natasha spat, and then hesitated, a brief there and gone touch at her stomach. “Bucky, darling--” 

“I don’t care about that.” Bucky tightened his hand on the rifle. “Don’t care about it, and to be real honest Pierce, you deserve a swift kick in the balls for trying to throw that in my wife’s face. Th’fuck is wrong with you?” 

“Either way, there’s no way out.” The Director interjected. “You hit that button, your lives are ruined and these men will make sure you never see the light of day again. Don’t hit that button and kill the Soldier instead, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. I won’t leave you out in the cold, Romanov. I promise.” 

“You have always been good to me, Director.” Natasha said softly, mockingly. “But I’m afraid I’ll have to do the proper housewife thing and defer to my husband on this. Bucky?” 

“Yeah, sugar.” 

“Do you trust me?” 

Bucky glanced over his shoulder lightning fast, saw all he needed to see in a blink of his eye and nodded. “With my life, Tash. Do you love me?” 

“Viciously.” she whispered. 

“On three then.” Bucky took a step back towards the desk, kept his rifle pointed at one or the other of their bosses. “One.” 

“Two.” Natasha hit a final button on the computer and snatched the rope from her waist, backing towards the huge windows behind them, the ones that looked over the city and were several hundred feet above nothing. “My love?” 

“Three---”

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#ncts fics #winterwidow

[leviskokoro]

Mari in Twisted Wonderland | Abridged Version | Heartslabyul

Chapter 1

Mari had her first prophetic dream and she’s like owo whats this

It was about Alice seeing the Card soldiers paint the white roses red and shit. 

But then, she was awoken by a loud knocking and wonders who it could possibly be at this hour. 

Grim and her decided to go down. Though, she tried finding a weapon first, just in case the person turns out to be some murderer or whatever. Manages to find a knife

They went downstairs to the front door and opened it to see who it was. Turns out that it was Ace. 

She relaxes and lets her guard down.

Ace: Is that a knife?!

Mari: Yeah, what if you were a murderer? 

Grim: Hah! I would’ve taken care of it myself, puny human— Huh?! You got a collar on!

“I ate a tart,” Ace replied, crossing his arms with a scowl on his features. 

Mari tilted her head in confusion and curiosity. “A tart?” 

He nodded. “I was hungry when I got back to the dorm and I found some tarts inside the fridge. Three whole tarts! So I ate one and it was really good. Then the dorm leader found me eating his tart and was all like “Tart theft is unforgivable! OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!” and that’s how I got this collar… The end.” He used a shrill and high-pitched voice to imitate his dorm leader’s words. 

She couldn’t help but stand in silence at that story, squinting. 

“Both of you are in the wrong,” Grim simply remarked with an unamused look on his face. To which the girl nodded in agreement. 

“Isn’t sealing away my magic for stealing a tart a bit too far?!” Ace cried out. “For a wizard, it’s like having your arms and legs chained up. And there were three whole tarts, it’s not like he could eat all of them by himself. There’s got to be a limit to how narrow-minded you could be!” 

“Which is why you’re both in the wrong,” Mari retorted, “You should’ve asked permission first, but he also shouldn’t be so harsh.” 

All he could do was groan at her reply. 

Grim’s eyes widened and he crossed his arms. “What if the tarts were for a party? Someone’s birthday, or something. Heh, I’m a genius.” He grinned, sharp teeth glinted in the moonlight. 

“Birthday?” Ace asked, placing his hand on the back of his head. 

“That might explain why he was so angry,” Mari said, deciding to clean up a little more since she was awake. The two just watched as she did this, not helping because they were little shits.

He huffed, narrowing his eyes at her. “I thought you were gonna say he was being tyrannical, prefect.” 

She shrugged. “He was certainly being unreasonable, but it’s wrong to steal,” she replied as she took a broom and sweeped the dusty floor. 

Grim glared at him, placing his paws on his hips. “You’re at fault for stealing his tart in the first place.” 

“There’s a chance he’ll forgive you if you apologised tomorrow,” the brunette girl advised him as she threw away the dust that she swept up. The wood under her feet creaked as she returned. 

“Grudges over food are the worst,” her partner remarked, an unamused expression on his face. His bright blue eyes widened in realisation. “Wait! I never got those tuna cans from the Headmaster!” 

“Fine. Whatever. All I gotta do is apologise, right?” Ace sighed. He looked at her with a glare. “This is your idea, so you better come with me.” 

All she did was nod. She was going with him regardless anyway. 

“So, where do I sleep tonight?” He asked, an inquisitive look in his eye. 

“You’re actually staying the night?” Grim crossed his arms. “Every room aside from ours is still a mess. Clean a room for yourself.” 

He made a face. “Bleh, I don’t wanna.” Then, he turned to Mari with a smile. “Prefect~ Let me sleep in your room. I’m slim, so I won’t take a lot of space.” 

“Aight.” 

Grim’s eyes widened to the size of saucers at her lax response. “Ffgnaa?! You’re just going to say yes?!” 

“I’m used to sharing beds with people.” Mari proceeded to have a flashback to every time the Demon brothers invited themselves to her room and stayed there without really giving her a choice in the matter, as well as every time she had to sleep in the same room as them. Honestly, at least Ace had the decency to ask first. 

“Sweet! Thanks, Mari.” Ace flashed her a grin. 

After that, they all went to their rooms to sleep. The boy was right, he didn’t take up much space. Plus, the bed was big enough for the two of them. Unfortunately, Ace hogged the sheets. The bastard. 

When morning came, so did the loud knocking. This time it was Deuce and he scolded Ace for getting collared. 

While heading to class, Grim teased Ace about his collar and not being able to use magic. 

Ace will remember that.

They went to the Heartslabyul dorm and Mari is like -surprised pikachu- 

She loves it a lot. The hearts and roses were gorgeous. If only she had magic, then she would’ve been sorted into a nice dorm. Ugh. 

No matter. She’d just have to work hard to make the Ramshackle dorm shine. 

Then they met the e-boy-- I mean, Cater and he was painting the white roses red. 

Mari proceeds to have flashbacks to her dream earlier. Huh. Maybe it was just a coincidence. 

Dude recognises them as the notorious first years that broke the 10,000,000 madol chandelier so he takes a selfie with them. 

He has them paint the roses with him. Grim accidentally sets the roses on fire, Deuce accidentally turns them blue. Turns out it’s a bad idea to ask freshmen that are inexperienced with magic to do your chores. 

Ace complained and asked why they’re painting them red. He said that they look pretty as white roses. Mari agreed and expressed that she felt that the natural colors of the roses were fine. 

Cater explained that it’s tradition for roses to be red for Unbirthday parties. And that they use flamingos in seven different colors for croquet with hedgehogs as the balls. 

Mari wondered if that was safe or ethical. Either way, this dorm was proving to be quite strange for her. 

Ace remembered that he was supposed to apologise. Cater asked if he had a tart of apology and he said no. 

Cater told him that he can’t let him in the dorm then. The first years tried fighting him but lost and got kicked out. 

The bell rang and they had to really rush to Potions class. 

Crewel appeared and Mari had a “Oh no he’s hot!” moment. She paid extra close attention to him during class. 

Then it was History class. Mari mostly looked at Lucius more than Trein but was also fascinated with learning the history of Twisted Wonderland.

 Then PE came around. Mari saw Vargas and was like “Damn he got some tiddies lmao” Then she dies.

Jk. But the 20 laps and 100 pushups were exhausting for her. 

It was break time. Ace and Deuce talked about the classes not being too different from regular school. Mari agreed that they were somewhat similar to the classes she had at RAD. 

Then they noticed Grim was trying to skip class. 

Ace made fun of Mari for losing him and told her that if she wanted his help, then she should buy him a chocolate croissant. Deuce wanted an iced latte. 

All it really took for Mari was to give Deuce her best puppy eyes until he agreed to help. Then she said she didn’t want Ace’s help since he didn’t have his magic anyway. This aggravated him into helping her. Heh, suckers. 

Turns out she didn’t really need their help anyway since she just scolded Grim into going with her, saying he won’t become a great wizard if he didn’t put effort into his studies. 

It was lunchtime and Grim got into trouble with delinquent upperclassmen over food since he bumped into them and the egg broke. One of them said that breaking the egg is the best part about eating carbonara. 

Which confused Mari greatly because she loves eating carbonara and has never ever heard of eating egg on it. Perhaps it was normal in Twisted Wonderland too. Heartslabyul was already strange enough. 

They got into a fight but won this time and the delinquents ran off, yelling about pasta again. 

The first year group started eating and Grim asked what the other dorms are like. Cater popped up next to them, surprising the four of them. Turns out Trey was with him as well. 

Cater basically just tried to get all buddy buddy and exchanged numbers. 

Mari told him she didn’t have a phone and he offered to go phone shopping with her and called it a date

She was just like “bro im fucking POOR” 

Trey told him to chill and they went back on track. Cater started a conversation about the seven dorms.

Time for Mari’s reactions to the other dorms

Heartslabyul - Ew. She doesn’t like overly strict people or environments. 

Savanaclaw - Haha, furry jock dorm. Probably found Jack hot since she’s into the strong silent types. 

Octavinelle - Sea Witch’s dorm, huh? Does that mean they’re business guys? Oh look, it’s that weird guy from the entrance ceremony that “wanted Riddle’s collar” 

Scarabia - The smart ones, according to Trey. There’s the guy who got his butt set on fire during the entrance ceremony and there’s… a really hot guy that’s exactly her type. His hair looked so long and silky and his eyes were mysterious. 

Pomefiore - 

Grim: there’s a super cute girl over there! 

Deuce: A girl besides Mari in an all-boys’ school?!

 Mari: Nah that’s a dude 

Ace: Eh? How do you know? 

Mari: I can see his adam’s apple 

Mari, internally: Shawty had them apple bottom jeans, boots with the fur-- 

So apparently Pomefiore is the “Beauty” dorm and the dorm leader has like five million followers on Magicam. That’s cool, but she’s more interested in their poisons. 

Ignihyde - Cater called the students of that dorm introverts. Trey said that they were good with technology. They seemed real neat. 

Diasomnia - Powerful and considered celebrities, as well as having an aura that makes them hard to approach. Though, Mari lowkey thought that about everyone except that one guy that got his butt set on fire. He seemed very friendly. Maybe it was her social anxiety talking, maybe they were actually just intimidating. Anyway, Lilia popped up from above and scared them. He basically just said that he’s not a child and that Diasomnia welcomes students from other dorms. So there’s that, at least. Though, this doesn’t do anything to extinguish the intimidating aura from the rest of their students. Then the strange dude left. 

Ace started talking shit about Riddle while Mari blankly stared at Riddle who was right behind him. Boi he ded

Riddle then went on with his spiel about rulebreakers. Honestly, Mari pretty much spaced out during this in order not to roll her eyes at him. 

Then he left to get two sugars for his lemon tea that the rules state that he’s supposed to drink after a meal.

Trey tries to explain that Riddle’s intentions aren’t bad and that he’s just trying to make the dorm better. 

To which Mari replies: “Sometimes it doesn’t matter what your intentions are. If you’re clearly making the people around you unhappy and uncomfortable without actual regard for how they feel, then that’s that.” 

And Grim said: “Someone with good intentions doesn’t randomly collar people!” 

They laughed, but one could easily tell that it wasn’t genuine. 

Then bam, more exposition comes and Cater explains what unique magics are. 

Then they start talking about tarts. Mari offered to help make one with Trey and Ace while Deuce and Grim wanted out. They only wanted to help after Trey said they could eat some tart if they helped out. 

They started chestnut picking and met Leona who was a fucking bitch because she accidentally stepped on his tail. 

Jk. He drinks his respect women juice so he’s not as mean and leaves her with only a warning for the most part. 

She and Grim got back to Ace and Deuce, they picked the chestnuts and got back to the Heartslabyul dorm to make that tart. 

Trey made his whole joke with the oyster sauce but Mari just looked at him with pure disbelief in her eyes. Then Trey realized he needed more ingredients since they brought too much chestnuts and Deuce and Mari volunteered to buy them from the shop. Grim also said he wanted to come since he was tired of mixing flour. 

So they go to the Mystery Shop and get the shit. Mari wonders for a moment if Sam has got anything that could possibly help her get home but then shakes her head, saying she’ll see about that later. They head back to the Heartslabyul dorm but run into trouble, then came the reveal of Deuce’s “Bad Boy” personality. Mari was like -surprised pikachu- while he beat the shit out of the delinquents, silently cheering him on. After that, he got upset because his “honor student” persona was gone. It’s especially bad since he felt that he scared Mari. 

Achievement unlocked: Deuce’s Backstory 

Grim asked if being an honor student meant that he should just grin and bear everything. Mari agreed and reassured that being an honor student didn’t necessarily mean that he should be a pushover. Then she broke it to him that the eggs were unfertilised and would never hatch. Now it was his turn on the surprised pikachu face. 

They bought another set of eggs and went back to the Heartslabyul dorm safe and sound. The tart was finished. Hooray! Though, Deuce was still shocked about the chicks so Mari had to pat his back. They started eating some tarts after Cater came by to check on them. He then brought up Trey’s unique magic.

Trey revealed his unique magic and explained it to them. They were impressed. But once they were done, he told Ace he can’t sleep in Heartslabyul and gave him and Deuce permission to sleep in the Ramshackle Dorm so they did. 

Next day. They got to the Unbirthday Party and Ace gave the tart to Riddle. 

Riddle is like “Fuck you. The Law of the Queen of Hearts says one must never bring a mont blanc tart to an Unbirthday Party! REEEEEEE” And then Mari wonders how many rules there are. He answers with 810 and that he memorized them since he’s dorm leader. She’s like “Dude, he’s a freshman, he can’t possibly memorize every rule.” To which Riddle countered with “I memorized them on my first day in NRC! If I can do it, then he should be able to as well.”

“Not everyone has to be like you!” She proceeds to have flashbacks to her narcissistic grandmother who always believed that she was right and demanded that everyone be like her. This causes her to dislike him. 

“As the dorm leader of Heartslabyul, out of respect to the strictness of the Queen of Hearts, I can’t ignore this violation. Throw the mont blanc and these rulebreakers out!” 

Ace started arguing with him as well and the two third years tried to help. Riddle goes on about how he has the highest grades and is the most powerful, which makes him the most correct. This makes Mari’s stomach churn more because of how much he reminds her of her grandmother. Grim says he’s a selfish tyrant who wastes food and ends up getting himself and Deuce collared as well. 

Then they get thrown out by the third years and meet Chenya, who gives them a tip to talk to Trey and unlock Riddle’s tragic backstory. 

And they did. Because it’s always a good idea to listen to the advice of a strange guy who pops into conversations head-first, literally. 

Achievement Unlocked: Riddle’s Backstory Part 1 

Mari’s reaction was that she sympathised with him and understood, considering that her grandmother was somewhat similar. However-- 

“His past is not an excuse for him to be a tyrant. Perhaps that’s harsh of me to say, but I still stand by it. He believes he’s right all the time and fails to notice how miserable the rest of Heartslabyul is.”

Ace put in his two cents and said it was Trey’s fault that he’s like this, dropping a truth bomb on him. Mari agreed and said “Friends help each other to become better people, not allow them to grow worse and worse.” Then he called Trey lame for being afraid of getting his head chopped off. 

Crowley pops up like “STFU THIS IS THE LIBRARY YOU LIL SHITS” and they said he was the loudest so he started whispering “stfu you lil shits”

They explained the situation and he suggested moving dorms but Ace was like “but thats a pussy move” so he suggested fighting Riddle to the death for the position of dorm leader. But without the “to the death” part. Ace and Deuce agreed to challenge Riddle. Grim wanted to go too but Crowley said other people from different dorms can’t so he got sad. 

Timeskip to the match and it was over in less than 5 seconds. Mari told Riddle that he was wrong but then he started mocking her and her family for barely being able to use magic and having a bad education and then called her completely inadequate. She just looked at him blankly considering that she didn’t particularly care about him insulting her or her parents. 

But then Ace punched him for saying that. And Mari was internally like, “I have decided that I love this guy”. Then he went onto this speech about how kids aren’t their parents’ trophies and that it was Riddle’s fault for not making a friend scold him for being a tyrant. He also calls him a baby. But not like the “uwu baby” kinda way, the kind of immature brat kinda way. 

Shit hits the fan and Trey finally had enough and used his unique magic to overwrite Riddle’s to remove the magic-sealing collars. Then Riddle fucking overblots. 

Mari is definitely surprised. Then noticed the creature behind him to look similar to the beast she and the shared brain cell trio fought in the Dwarves’ Mines. So, she steeled herself and ordered the trio to attack Riddle, especially once Crowley said that he’d lose his life if this went for too long. The third years came to help as well while their Headmaster evacuated the other students.

And they beat the shit out of Riddle. Then Mari kinda spaces out again and has this vision of Riddle’s past. This wasn’t the first time she has seen a vision of someone else’s past, but it still confused her. She wasn’t in the Devildom anymore, and she didn’t have magic. 

Achievement Unlocked: Riddle’s Backstory Part 2 

Then she’s shaken back to earth by Ace and he’s like “Oi, don’t space out now, dumbass.” “Did you see that?” “See that Riddle overblotted? How could I not?!” “Nevermind” 

Riddle is crying and she feels bad so she rubs his back. Her motherly instincts get the better of her at this point. He’s surprised at how she’s treating him, considering the only female figure he had in his life was his mother who was strict and harsh. When Ace started yelling at him, she scolded him and told him to yell at him later. 

“Ace, cut him some slack. You can yell at him when he’s recovered. He almost died ffs” “SO DID WE” 

Then he told Riddle to do the Revenge Unbirthday Party. Riddle agreed before Mari and Crowley decided to take him to the infirmary. Since she was gone, Grim got to eat the black rock again. 

While Riddle was recovering from blot, Mari took it upon herself to help him out. He appreciated it a lot. 

After the Revenge Unbirthday Party, Mari thought about her experience so far. The strange dreams, the overblot, the vision. 

Then she remembered something. Before leaving the Devildom, Barbatos pulled her aside and had a talk with her. He held her hand and a faint glow emitted from it before he let her go. “A fragment of my power,” he said. But she didn’t understand what he meant. 

When she slept that night, she saw Belphie and nearly cried because she missed him. Then she explained what happened to her and that she was in Twisted Wonderland. He told her that he’ll inform the others so that they can find a way to get her back, and that she should hang on in the meantime. 

And so she did, unaware that her adventure just begun.

#twisted wonderland #twst #riddle rosehearts #ace trappola #deuce spade #trey clover #cater diamond #kokoro writes