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z-h-i-e · 7 months

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Weird Questions: 5, 8, 9 & 13

I ended up saving some previous asks, knowing I was going to have an AMA (Ask Me Anything) coming up. And it's an AMA weekend, so now is the time to answer all these questions! (but you can still ask me more, either cheekily anonymous, or bravely under your name). Here's a quartet from a lovely anon! I'm going to answer them in reverse order to keep the answer for the last one under a cut.

What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

Incredibly difficult: Relationships between ex-lovers. I have no exes. I married the first, last, and only person I ever dated/had a relationship with, and we have a great relationship of 26 years. My parents have been together for 47 and married for 45. The only set of grandparents I knew were high school sweethearts who married after my grandfather came back from being a POW in the Korean Conflict. It's really been the relationships prior to that where there's divorces and widows who marry three times and lots of interesting stories that come with the phrase 'it was unheard of at the time' (Great-great-grandma D, I'm looking at you being in your 60s and marrying the 18 year old farm hand as your third husband--good for you, that's a queen move right there). So I have to rely on research and what other people tell me.

Easy: Many other things, because I'm a method writer--it means I do a lot of immersive writing. Example--I started writing some years ago that Finrod knits. When I got to a point where I was writing a lot of things about Finrod, it made me realize -- I should learn how to knit so I don't just half-ass it. I have now made four blankets and many scarves and something square and very rainbow and I don't know quite what I did but I like it. Anyhow, for most things, I go have experiences. I collect realia that fits the themes/scenes. I use ambient noise while writing if I can't get to an actual place to do the writing. I've learned how to kickbox, ballroom dance, bake and decorate fancy desserts, do carpentry, make paper, make ink, make clothing, been around alllll sorts of animals (many of the random encounters with wild animals aren't a thing I can really plan, but I've had more than I can count, and they've all been useful). I have some limits, but they are few (and probably strange, honestly).

Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know.

Yes. I've lived in a house that had two of them, and I had a very specific encounter when I was a teenager. I was working one day at the retail counter and the father of my boss came in. There was an older woman next to him. They were sort of conversing--she was doing most of the talking, he was just making grumbly noises. They never made eye contact. She was wearing all black, including a lace cover over her hair, which is how I even was watching, because her clothing was just unusual for the time period and for an afternoon of coming into a little retail store. He eventually got her back to the door, opened it for her, she left, and he came to fiddle with something behind the counter. When I asked him 'who was that?' he looked a little shocked, but told me it was "Old Lady (name redacted)".

About a week or so later, the store owner and his wife returned from vacation. They asked me how things went in their absence and I filled them in. When the owner said 'I hope my dad didn't bother you too much', I told him no, it was fine, he was just a little grumpy when Old Lady (nr) came in. The owner was like "…are you sure that was what he said? Because Old Lady (nr) has been dead for a while."

Of course, I had to ask his father the next time I saw him. He adamently denied having said anything to me, denied having had a conversation with anyone, denied the whole thing happening. Cameras were already wiped from the week by then, but then again--I don't know if I really wanted to check them. I replay it sometimes, watching them walking around and talking, them not looking at each other, her not picking anything up or touching anything--but she did look at me at one point.

So I did go look her up eventually.

She passed away in 1992 at the age of 88.

This encounter could not have been earlier than 1996, because I started working there in November of 1995.

Found a photo of her recently in a historical archive.

It's her.

Every time I go past, day or night, I glance over. I guess I'm waiting for the day I see her standing in front of the store or something.

What is your darkest fear about writing?

That after I'm gone, it'll all just disappear like it was never there at all. But this isn't just a me thing--it's a 'for everyone' sort of thing. Libraries and archives make concerted efforts to collect physical and other digital copies of literature--fanfiction doesn't get that same attention--but it should. It's a record not of what was profittable, but of what people were passionate about.

Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

Under a cut for mentions of death:

There have been a few times I've written scenes that ended up playing out in real life later on. Usually, these weren't a big deal. But I once wrote a scene (this is all original fiction) about a character being killed, and another character (that was loosely based on myself) having to go to the family of the character who was killed and deliver the news. A very short time later -- somewhere between two weeks and a month -- my uncle died, and I had to go to my parents' house to tell my father his younger brother was dead. It was absolutely one of the worse experiences ever, to have to comfort a parent who is sobbing and just keeps saying 'my baby brother is dead' over and over.

So, you will notice, when I write about death, it's off-screen in almost all cases. And I bring everyone back to Valinor -- Elves and also a lot of Orcs and eventually even Morgoth. Someone is always hurt when someone passes away, and I know that I use Valinor as the ultimate 'fix-it' place.

If anyone wants to pull more questions from the weird writing asks, here's the link to the list: https://www.tumblr.com/z-h-i-e/722293323480596480/i-still-have-two-more-from-the-last-one-to-get?source=share

#warning for real life death discussion #writing asks #ask me anything

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too-gay-for-marvel · 3 years

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just this once pt.5

a/n: yall. yall im on a roll. and no i will not apologise for anything that happens in this chapter. also, still learning how to do taglists so if it doesn’t work or you weren’t included, send me a message and i’ll try to get it fixed!

Word Count: 4,285

Warnings: canon typical violence, non-explicit mentions of torture, mutant experimentation

Pairing: Natasha x Reader

(pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6.1 pt.6.2 pt.6.3 pt.7 pt.8)

“I think Fury is giving you a sign.”

Natasha looked up from her paperwork to see Maria leaning against the door frame to her office. She herself had just gotten back from a mission, evident in her slightly mused ponytail and gun still on her hip. A very beyond attractive look, if Natasha had to say it.

“What do you mean?” Natasha asked, leaning back in her chair to give her full attention to her fiancee.

“So he didn’t tell you,” Maria said with a nod. She pushed herself off the door frame and moved to sit in the chair on the opposite side of the desk.

“I’ll admit that gives me a clue,” Natasha said with a small frown. She didn’t like where this was going.

“He’s sending you on another mission,” Maria replied. “With Y/N.”

“I thought we told him emergencies only,” Natasha mused more to herself than to Maria.

It seemed like Nick was sending the both of you on every mission he could possibly come up with. He needed some information. Then he wanted the layout of a base. Then he wanted some recon on security in another location. All were things that Natasha not only could have done with someone else, but she could have gotten them done on her own.

He seemed to think differently.

“He wants you to leave tomorrow,” Maria continued, bringing Natasha out of her pouting. “Personnel recovery.”

“At least that gives us a few hours together,” Natasha said with a small smile.

“Maybe we can finally get some planning done,” Maria nodded as she stood up. “Maybe a colour scheme?”

“Red and black,” Natasha shot back.

“We’ll argue about it later,” Maria smiled. She walked over and tilted Natasha’s chin up to give her a quick kiss before leaving the office, presumably to get cleaned up.

Natasha looked down at her paperwork for not even five minutes before deciding she was going to rush upstairs and surprise Maria in the shower. She had just started piling the papers up when you walked in, harpoon on hip and soaking wet.

“Did you ask Fury for another mission?” You asked as you plopped into the chair opposite her, water instantly dripping down the sides of the seat.

“No,” Natasha said curtly, hoping she could get you out of her office sooner if she didn’t invite conversation.

“Then why is he sending us together?” You asked. Your fingers started combing through your hair, the webs gathering whatever was stuck. Drops of water splashed onto Natasha’s pristine papers.

“I don’t know,” Natasha said again, turning her lip up when you put a piece of seaweed on her desk.

“I thought you knew everything,” you huffed, staring intently as a shell you had pulled out of your suit sleeve.

“Well clearly not,” Natasha mumbled to herself.

You leaned over to rest your elbows on the desk, your dripping wet hair leaving puddles on the mahogany and her papers. Natasha set her jaw and gave you a look, keeping eye contact. But your eyes gave off that mischievous sparkle, the one that would make any woman swoon. And Natasha’s heart raced.

“Think I can get that in writing?” You asked with a raised brow. “You know, for the next time you act like a know-it-all.”

“Did you just come in here to act like an ass?” Natasha asked as she picked her papers up and started walking out.

“Actually,” you started as you pushed away from the desk and stood up, “I’m here to bring you this.”

You held your open hand out, palm up, and Natasha looked cautiously to see what it was. In the middle of your palm was a whole shell, with a small black pearl in the centre. It looked absolutely stunning, and Natasha reached out to gently take it.

“Why did you bring this to me?” Natasha asked, although she feared she already knew your answer.

“Cheeseburger found the shell the other day,” you shrugged, “and Roger got the pearl out.”

Natasha did her best not to chuckle at the silly names you had given the octopus and otter that usually inhabited your moon pool. Cheeseburger, the octopus, had lost two limbs and had a nasty habit of stealing your cheeseburgers (hence the name), while Roger was an in-progress rehabilitation project. Unfortunately, the three of you were like peas in a pod.

“It’s beautiful,” Natasha mused, her eyes still glued to the pearl. “But I can’t take this home to my fiancee.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. The space between the both of you increased as you visibly took a step back, and Natasha missed the closeness. Things had seemed normal only a moment ago, and now she could feel you closing yourself off to her, going cold once again.

“Then give it to Maria,” you shrugged. “Get some brownie points before going off on another mission with her favourite person.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Natasha shot back. “I just don’t want to waste your gift.”

“It was just cluttering up my space,” you replied, voice cold.

“Give it to Yelena,” Natasha said softly, holding the shell and pearl back out for you to take. “She would love it.”

“Yelena,” you huffed with a small smile. A sad smile. You grabbed the shell from her hand rather roughly, causing Natasha to flinch. “Thanks for the input.”

“Y/N,” Natasha started, but you were already walking away in the opposite direction, head high and feet dragging.

Natasha sighed and started her own way back to her floor. She wanted Maria to distract her. From you.

———

“What’s our objective again?” You shouted from the back of the quinjet.

“Personnel recovery,” Yelena answered. “Some scientist wanted out of AIM.”

“Why is that my responsibility?” You continued. Your boots echoed off the floor and you popped your head in between Yelena’s and Natasha’s chairs.

“Because something smelled-”

“Don’t,” Natasha interrupted.

“-fishy,” Yelena finished anyway, and both you and Natasha groaned as she just laughed at herself.

“I’m not paid enough for this,” Natasha mumbled to herself before turning her head and looking out the windows.

“I’ll throttle you,” you said as you lightly slapped Yelena upside the head.

“Listen,” she tried to say around another round of giggles, “if Fury ever told me his plans, I wouldn’t be stuck here with you two.”

“Well why don’t you find out? I wanna know why he’s sending me on this mission.”

“I already told you, I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you know? Surely you must have some kind of-”

“Can you both shut up?” Natasha shouted. The both of you grew silent immediately, and Natasha finally let out a breath and tried to rub her growing migraine away.

“Should’ve just sent Nat,” you grumbled. “She’s grumpy enough to scare everyone away all on her own.”

Yelena snorted, and when Natasha shot a look her way, she tried her best to look out the window. You, on the other hand, held up to her challenge and met her eyes. That ridiculous smirk refused to disappear, and Natasha wanted so desperately to wipe it off your face. But instead she just turned back around and looked out the window once again.

The rest of the trip was silent, only the occasional update being spoken aloud. Yelena managed to drop the both of you off and stayed in the jet, more than ready for when you both got back and could get back to the Tower for a well-deserved weekend.

It was a quick jog to the location, with tents and cages set up all around the landing port. The building was a few stories tall, but well fortified with guards around every corner. The majority of cages were empty, but every now and then you could hear a bear, a dog, a human.

“I thought these guys were scientists,” you whispered from where you were crouched beside Natasha.

“They are,” Natasha nodded.

“Must be pretty paranoid then,” you continued.

“You would be too if your work relied on illegal mutant experimentation,” Natasha clarified. You didn’t say anything else, but she could see your knuckles going pale.

“Let’s get our man and go,” you practically growled. “Before I kill them all.”

Natasha knew you weren’t joking.

You both went in opposite directions, you heading to the back door and Natasha heading to the side. There was no guaranteeing that the scientist was even inside at all, but that was the easiest place to check. There was too much vulnerability outside and Natasha wasn’t going to risk getting caught and failing another mission.

“How are we supposed to find one nerd in a facility full of nerds?” You asked over the intercoms, and Natasha assumed you had made it into the building.

“Be nice,” Natasha whispered, “not all scientists are nerds.”

“Bruce and Tony are,” you replied. Natasha pulled herself against a wall when she heard voices. “Everyone here is.”

“Hush,” Natasha whispered. You remained silent as Natasha listened to footsteps getting closer, and then turning into the opposite direction. She let out a quiet breath.

“Do we really want to help someone who’s torturing mutants?” You asked again, a barely contained anger in your voice.

Natasha rounded another corner, trying to come up with an answer for you. You weren’t wrong; she didn’t like the idea either. Why save the scientist when you could save the people instead? But Fury wanted him, and there had to be a reason for it. The location was known, so someone could always come back to save them another day.

“Nick will send us back another day,” Natasha finally said out loud. You huffed on the other end of the comms.

You both continued through the facility, methodically clearing rooms until finally you indicated you had found him. Some wiry man with broken glasses, according to your description. Natasha gave confirmation and headed to the meet up point, somewhere on the second floor. Once Natasha was about to round the corner to the location, she could hear your voice carrying through the halls.

“You’re lucky I don’t wring your neck myself.”

“What’s the problem?” Natasha asked as soon as she saw you.

You were right. The man was wiry and nerdy, something you would expect from a mad scientist in a comic book. White tape was wrapped around the nose piece of his glasses in stereotypical fashion and he was hunched over like the world was resting on his shoulders.

No surprise, considering you were hovering nearly a foot over him.

“He called me an animal,” you seethed, your hands visibly shaking with the desire to have them around the man’s neck.

“Look at your arms and neck, what else could you be?” He asked in a gruff New Jersey accent.

“You want an animal? I’ll show you an-”

“That’s enough,” Natasha demanded. She stepped in between the both of you and pushed you away, not even bothering to get near the man.

“If he has to go with us, then so does one of the mutants,” you said, leaving no room for argument in your voice.

“We can’t risk it, we’re leaving them here,” Natasha said quickly. The hair on the back of her neck was starting to stand up and her stomach felt like it was dropping.

“I’m not leaving them and taking that,” you said through clenched teeth while pointing at the scientist.

“You’re going to risk my life for one of them?” He asked, his face drawn in disgust at the mere thought that his life was equal to a mutant’s. Natasha wanted to strangle him.

“We will come back for them another day,” Natasha said again, but you didn’t look convinced.

“I’m not leaving without them, so you’re gonna have to wait,” you shot back.

Voices could be heard in the stairwell a few halls away.

“And I’m not risking another mission,” Natasha argued, walking closer to you and forcing you to step backward to keep your space.

“If you think I’m taking that and leaving one of those kids then you’re-”

Click.

The both of you froze, your eyes boring into Natasha’s. A heavy silence fell upon the both of you, so thick Natasha struggled to draw breath. Her heart was pounding in her ears and that feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach returned.

And then your eyes left hers, trailing down to the too-tight cuffs that were now keeping you chained to the pipes against the wall. They weren’t the usual police handcuffs, but the kind that they had used on Loki after the invasion of New York.

You weren’t getting out of them.

“Natasha,” you started, your eyes moving back to meet hers.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha whispered. She took one heavy step back, never taking her eyes off of you.

“Unlock them,” you continued. Your chest was starting to rise and fall slightly faster.

“Someone will come for you,” Natasha said again with a slight nod.

Her mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

“Get back here, Romanoff,” you said as Natasha started leading the scientist down the hall.

Away from you.

She didn’t answer. She just felt her leaden boots take step after step, leading her further away from where you were chained. When she didn’t answer, she heard the sound of metal pulling against metal and your grunts and groans as you tried to yank the cuffs off.

“You can’t leave me here!” You shouted, your voice echoing down the hall after Natasha had turned the final corner.

She heard other voices coming from the same direction as yours, quickly followed by shouting and the solid thuds of blows being landed.

“Natalia!” You shouted again once Natasha had opened the door to lead the scientist out.

Only moments after the door shut, Natasha heard your scream. A scream of anger and frustration, a scream that reached down Natasha’s throat and ripped her heart out. The prick of tears in her eyes left a sinking feeling in her gut, left her feeling empty and a broken shell.

But she had a mission. And she was going to complete it.

She shoved the scientist in the direction of the quinjet and didn’t look back. Ignoring the whining and complaining coming from the man and eventually just throwing him into the back of the quinjet, ignoring the way Yelena jumped at the sudden noise.

“Where’s Y/N?” Yelena asked, moving her head around, trying to see if you were close behind.

“Get us in the air,” Natasha ordered. Tears pricked her eyes once again.

“Are they coming?” Yelena asked again, ignoring Natasha’s order.

“I said get us in the air, now.”

Yelena gave Natasha a look that sent a shiver down her spine, but turned around and got the jet in the air nonetheless. The scientist pulled himself into the seat next to Natasha. He seemed much more relaxed, and Natasha couldn’t blame him. He probably didn’t realise just how much had been risked to get him back to SHIELD.

“You made the right choice,” he said after some unbearable silence. Natasha turned to look at him, her brows pulled together.

“Excuse me?”

“You made the right choice,” he said again with an enthusiastic nod. “You never know what those animals might do-”

He was cut off with a choked gasp as Natasha slammed her elbow into his face, and he quickly lost consciousness.

“Just shut up,” she mumbled to herself, knowing he couldn’t hear her.

It didn’t make her feel any better.

———

It was six weeks before the party had been dispatched to get you back. The party had consisted of Natasha, Yelena, and Wanda, and there was going to be nothing extra. They were going to get you out and get back to SHIELD, no side missions, no stops, no questions.

Maybe it just so happened that the only way to get you was to burn the facility to the ground and get the rest of the mutants out. Maybe they had called for a second quinjet to arrive to make sure everyone was able to get out safely.

Yelena and Wanda were tasked with getting everyone on the jets and eliminating the few soldiers remaining while Natasha had scoured the facility top to bottom to find you. There was a large portion of the basement that Natasha had found, filled with surgical equipment and things that would have been enough to give anyone nightmares.

And you were there, nude, in a too-small empty glass tank with a chain around your ankle. There were rips and tears in the thin membranes between your spines, and a dark black mark on your left shoulder blade. From her angle, it looked like some kind of gunk was stuck in your gills. You were curled up into a fetal position and kept your eyes glued to the ground directly in front of you.

“Y/N,” Natasha said, her gun still drawn but lowered.

“I should thank you, Miss Romanoff,” a voice called, and Natasha spun with gun raised to find a scientist walk forward, standing near a panel by your tank. “You gave me my greatest obsession.”

“How about you just let them out and I don’t kill you,” Natasha shrugged.

“I’ve learned a lot from our little friend,” he continued, ignoring her. “And you’re in time to see the results of something I’ve been working on.”

“Let them go,” Natasha said again. She cocked the gun, but the man laughed.

“I hear drowning is a horrible way to die,” he said, still ignoring her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Natasha saw you raise your head and look at her. The dark spots under your eyes were beyond evident, sticking out against the sickened colour of your skin. There was no emotion in your eyes, not even a silent plea for help.

You looked like you had already accepted death.

“How long do you think a sea creature can hold its breath underwater before it needs to breathe?” He asked, his fingers typing against the panel.

“Don’t,” Natasha shouted, her trigger finger pulling instinctively and burying a bullet into the man’s chest. He was dead before he hit the floor.

Water started filling your tank, and you stood up to get your head as tall as it could get. Natasha nodded at you once, and you covered your head as she fired shot after shot at the tank. But there wasn’t even a dent, nothing to indicate that the tank could be broken.

“What do I do?” Natasha asked as she ran up to the tank, watching the water slowly rise to your ankles.

You didn’t speak, didn’t open your mouth, instead pointing as best you could to a discrete pipe against the opposite wall. Natasha looked at it and followed the direction until she saw a lone wheel connected to the wall. A wheel that could control the water flow.

“Stay here,” Natasha told you as she ran off, grimacing to herself. It wasn’t like you had anywhere to go.

She grabbed the wheel and pulled, but it didn’t budge. It felt like she was trying to pull a quinjet with her bare hands; an impossible task in and of itself. Her eyes trailed over to see the water had reached your waist. There had to be something else she could get, something to help.

The thud of your hands on the glass made her turn, and you were pointing in another direction. Her eyes followed, but there wasn’t anything she could see that would immediately-

A pipe.

Natasha sprinted to grab it from the table, nearly dropping it in her haste to get back to the wheel. The water was up to your neck, and Natasha could already see that your gills weren’t filtering anything. They stayed terribly still, and Natasha had to drag her feet to get back to the wheel.

She stuck the pipe into the empty spaces of the wheel and pulled, yelling in frustration until it finally moved. She continued pulling until she heard the flow of water stop, and a tired smile etched itself onto her lips as she turned back around to see you.

But the water was over your head, and now she was leaving you to drown.

She couldn’t break the glass; the water was off and you were still drowning. Your eyes were wide, and the fear of the situation finally made its way onto your face as you curled in on yourself and started pulling at the chain around your ankle, air bubbles escaping from your nose at a rapid rate.

Natasha got an idea. She didn’t hesitate as she started pushing the pipe, the flow of water rushing back. Only this time, she didn’t stop until the pipes rattled with the flow, barely able to contain the volume inside. She pushed until the pipe stuck, and she turned and ran back to the tank.

Your eyes were closing, the air bubbles almost nonexistent, your struggle against the chain ending. Natasha started banging on the glass, trying to keep you awake, but you didn’t move, instead just floating, and Natasha felt her heart sink.

The glass creaked under her fingers. Natasha’s eyes shot open and she watched the glass, noting the single crack that started to web across the entirety of the tank. She barely had time to step aside as the glass shattered, water shooting out and leaving you to drop to the ground.

When you didn’t move, Natasha jumped forward, dropping to the ground and immediately starting CPR. She could feel a rib break, maybe two, but she didn’t stop. She wasn’t going to stop until you could breathe. You just needed to fucking breathe-

Your body shuddered as you choked, coughing up water before your eyes shot open. Natasha felt herself let out a shaky breath, but she didn’t let herself rest. She grabbed her gun and shot where the chain was connected to the floor, listening to it break before grabbing you and pulling you up.

“You need to lose some weight,” Natasha groaned as you leaned on her side, your feet barely moving.

You didn’t say a word the whole trip out of the facility. Just managed to drag yourself out, eventually walking more on your own when you neared the quinjet. Yelena ran up to the both of you and got on your other side, sharing a look with Natasha.

“I’ve got it,” Yelena said in a tone that told Natasha to let go and give her some space.

Natasha did, watching as Yelena finished dragging you to the quinjet and putting you in a seat before wrapping a blanket around your naked form. Your eyes fell back to the ground when Yelena finally got the jet in the air, and you refused to look at anyone when you got back to the Tower, leaving Natasha without a second thought.

———

Natasha was sitting at the bar on the common floor, picking apart her food. She had tried to see you multiple times over the past two weeks, only to be turned away by doctors or Yelena. There was something wrong, but Natasha couldn’t find out because no one would let her.

The ding of the elevator had her turning her head, not necessarily eager but casually curious on who had appeared. To her surprise, Yelena walked out with a McDonald’s bag in hand, some drink in the other. She didn’t look happy, but Natasha could’ve expected that.

After all, Yelena hadn’t forgiven her.

“How are they?” Natasha asked.

“Alive, no thanks to you,” Yelena shot back. But she had stopped and was talking back; that was an improvement from the past two weeks.

“I had a mission,” Natasha said, but her voice was small, weak.

“They were part of that mission,” Yelena answered.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha said quietly. She said it to assuage her own guilt. It didn’t work.

“You’re stringing them along,” Yelena said, her voice taking a different tone that Natasha hadn’t been expecting. “Just marry Maria already and end the suffering.”

“I’m not stringing them along,” Natasha defended.

But she knew she was wrong. Yelena was right. And Natasha wasn’t going to stop because what would her life be without you? How could she go about her day-to-day life if she knew you weren’t going to be there in some fashion? Maybe she was in love with Maria and was going to marry her, but that didn’t mean she wanted to throw you away.

“Just be gentle,” Yelena said with a sigh. “Everyone has feelings at stake.”

“And you?” Natasha asked, causing Yelena to freeze. “What feelings do you have at stake?”

A small, sad smile made its way onto her face.

“Desire,” Yelena shrugged, but just like that her demeanour changed. “Y/N said I couldn’t eat before them, and I very much desire this McChicken.”

“You’re disgusting,” Natasha chuckled.

“And this McFlurry. You know the good stuff,” Yelena teased again, causing the both of them to laugh.

“Then go on,” Natasha motioned toward where she assumed you were waiting. “I’d hate for the two of you to starve.”

Yelena gave her a smile, one like the good old days, and continued her walk. She stopped in the doorway and turned around.

“Oh, Fury wanted me to tell you something.” Natasha gave her a look for her to continue. “You and Y/N are going undercover. As a couple.” With that, Yelena continued off, leaving Natasha to deal with the news.

Why couldn’t things ever be easy?

Taglist: @wickedmuses @m-zne237 @noodlybees @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo @gottacamz @wouldirunofftheworldsomeday @santasbitch @when-wolves-howl @madamevirgo @hopingforromanoff

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #my writing

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

SWAT Guy (Part 3)

(Gif @a-profoundbond)

Summary: Dean gets pulled out into a call and needs Sam for backup when some of his usual guys are out. But something isn’t right about the whole situation and is about to cause a world of trouble for everyone involved...

Masterlist

Pairing: SWAT officer!Dean x reader

Square: Dean Smith

Word Count: 2,300ish

Warnings: language, kidnapping, minor violence

A/N: For the purposes of this story, Sam is the reader’s brother. This was written for @supernatural-jackles Tell Me A Story Bingo. Enjoy!…

_______

“Hi Sammy,” you said. He popped his head up from his desk and smiled. “I’m fine. Dean’s truck is in the shop so I’m picking him up today is all.”

“Lucky you. You get to deal with that hot mess on the way home,” said Sam, waiving his hand across the way. You turned and saw Dean in a suit, reading over a file at his desk.

“Uh, what is he wearing?”

“He was deposed today,” said Sam. You turned back and cocked your head. “It’s like giving a witness statement kinda. We don’t always have time to go to the court house and not every case requires it.”

“He didn’t mention it.”

“I think he forgot. That’s my suit he’s wearing,” said Sam. You looked him over and noticed he was in his workout clothes, a smile crossing your face. “Shut it.”

“You guys are becoming friends,” you grinned.

“He’s a cocky asshole,” said Sam, flipping through some papers. “But he makes you happy.”

“Are his pants rolled up?” you asked with a smirk, catching site of the cuff at the bottom over his work boots.

“Oh trust me. We’ve been ragging on him all day long,” said Sam. “Staying over Dean’s again tonight?”

“Probably,” you said as you started to leave.

“Y/N. Don’t you think you guys are going a little fast?” he asked.

“Sam. He’s been my boyfriend for nearly two months and I’m a big girl,” you said. He held up his hands and your walked around his desk, giving him a hug. “This isn’t another Lou incident.”

“I don’t want to see you get hurt like that again is all.”

“Dean’s different than Lou. Even you can know that.”

“You still fell for Lou.”

“I was in love with the idea of being in love. I didn’t love Lou.”

“Do you think you might love Dean?”

“I could see myself doing that down the road,” you said. “I gotta take Mr. Grumples home so he can get ready to have dinner at our place-”

“No,” groaned Sam, his head thrown back. “I just spent nearly nine hours with the guy.”

“He’s been over there all day and Dean’s downstairs is torn apart from the electrician right now. Come on. He hangs out for one night? Pretty please big brother?” you asked. He rolled his eyes but nodded. “Sucker.”

“You’re cooking,” he said. You hummed and headed across the way to Dean’s office, rattling on the doorway.

“Howdy handsome,” you said. He lifted his head up and grinned. “Look at your cute little suit.”

“I hate it,” he said. “God, stick me in my SWAT uniform any day over this shit.”

“You do look nice, even if the suit doesn’t quite fit,” you said, one of the guys from his SWAT team poking his head in the door. “Hi-”

“We got a hostage situation downtown,” said Henry, Dean jumping out of his seat. “Hey Y/N. Gotta run.”

“Y/N, I’ll see you at my place tonight, okay?” said Dean, ducking out of his office. “It’s gonna be a few hours probably.”

“Okay,” you said, walking forward and grabbing his hand.

“Y/N, I gotta go get suited up,” he said.

“I know,” you said, leaning up and kissing him. “Be safe.”

“Always am,” he said, someone else from his team he recognized jogging down the hall.

“Dean! Hold up!” he called as Dean started to leave. “Micky’s out sick today.”

“Shit. Steve’s on vacation too,” said Dean. “Who’s on the roster?”

“Gary but I know he and his wife are driving up to the lake this weekend. He took a half day. He’s an hour out,” he said. Dean scanned his eyes and looked around the room, biting his bottom lip. “Weston!”

“What?” shouted Sam from his office.

“Dress. Now. Hughie, get him suited up. I want him on strictly surveillance. It’s all he’s cleared for,” said Dean as Sam jogged out of his office. “I said now Weston!”

“Dean,” you said as he started heading down the hall.

“I’ll keep him safe. I promise. I’ll talk to you later sweetheart.”

Four Hours Later

“Oh my God,” you said as Sam walked into the house, still in his SWAT gear. “What is going on? A cop showed up an hour ago and said I couldn’t leave. He’s been parked out front all-”

“Y/N,” said Sam, showing in another man you recognized from their work. “This is Officer Todd. He’s Dean’s supervisor and he’s responsible for the SWAT organization in our department. He needs to ask you some questions.”

“Where’s Dean?” you asked. Officer Todd stared at you and took a deep breath. “Where’s Dean?”

“I need to-”

“Is he dead?” you asked with a thick swallow.

“We don’t believe so,” said the officer.

“How the fuck don’t you know the answer? Either he is or-”

“An erroneous situation happened and we will all yell and place blame at another time. But if you want to help Dean, I need you to answer anything I ask of you and I mean anything,” he said.

“What happened to Dean? Where is he? Is he stuck on your call you-”

“Y/N, we don’t know where he is,” said Sam. You stuck out your neck and Sam shut his eyes. “It was a trap and we fell for it.”

“It was a hostage situation. You-”

“It was a mistake. We believe Dean was the real target. We’re unable to locate him. Now I need you to answer my questions. The sooner we do, the sooner we can find Dean, alright?” asked Officer Todd. You nodded and sat down on the couch, the officer pulling out a notepad.

“Hey,” said the cop that’d been parked in the driveway, Sam and officer Todd long gone. You lifted your head up from the couch where you watched late night TV, the cop giving you a smile. “Can I use your bathroom quick?”

“Around the corner to the left. First door on the right,” you said. He waved and stepped inside, ducking around as you let out a sigh. You tugged your blanket up over yourself, bolting upright when you heard a thud. “Officer Hendricks? You okay?”

You got up and looked around the corner, two men in masks standing there. You turned and bolted for the front door, a foot tripping you along the way, smacking you straight into the ground. You rolled and stared up at them, one of them squatting down close to you.

“We need you to get something for us,” he said. “It’s at the police station. If you get it for us, you can have back your boyfriend.”

“Look at this,” said the other guy, taking a picture off the wall. “She’s with a cop.”

“That ain’t Smith,” said the first guy, looking around the room and spotting a picture of you and Sam from when you were kids. “It’s her brother.”

“He could get it and we bring her with us.” They stared down at you where you’d backed up next to the end table. “It might keep Smith more complacent. We’re gonna need that password eventually and she’ll get us that password.”

You reached into the basket and pulled out the gun hidden there, both men more in awe than anything else.

“No I don’t think you two understand how this works,” you said, standing up. “You tell me where Dean is and maybe I don’t shoot your dicks off if I like the answer.”

“She wouldn’t-” You pulled the trigger and shot the shorter one in the thigh, the other guy jumping.

“That was a warning shot. Now where’s Dean?”

Three Hours Later

You spun around in the office chair you’d been sat in for over an hour, slumped down and checking out of the door every few minutes.

“Hey,” said Sam, suddenly in the doorway. You turned and he was smiling, looking to his right. “Got somebody who says they owe you one.”

Dean smirked as he stepped into view, a black eye and scuffed up cheek but he looked relatively okay. You got up and gave him a hug, Dean laughing to himself.

“So you can cook and have that level of marksmanship? You’re the full package, aren’t ya,” said Dean, squeezing you tight.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

“He’s fine. A few scrapes. Bigger issue is what these guys wanted,” said Sam.

“I’ve got the security code to our SWAT arsenal. It’s located near the back so it’s pretty easy to get in and out if you have the code,” he said.

“So it wasn’t you they wanted?”

“Just the info I had. The electrician at my house the past few days wasn’t a real one. They were snooping through my crap, trying to find it written down somewhere.”

“There’s a lot of stuff in that room that we don’t want on the street,” said Sam. “This is my case now. Something bigger is going on we don’t know about yet.”

“It’s highly unlikely they’d try that method of getting access again,” said Dean, glancing to Sam. “But Sam and I think it might be a good idea if I stayed with you guys for a while, until this settles down.”

“So you’re the one that gets kidnapped and I stop a kidnapping and save you yet I’m the one that needs protection,” you said.

“God no. I want you watching my back,” said Dean. “I’m the wimp around here.”

You smiled and he gave you a kiss, wincing a little as you noticed the split lip.

“If that’s okay with you that is.”

“Yeah,” you said, Sam ducking past you into his office. “Hey. When were you gonna tell me you signed up for the backup squad?”

“I thought it might help me look at things from a different perspective,” said Sam.

“You just wanted to wear the pants. They do make your ass look great I gotta say, Sammy,” teased Dean.

“Can you go get kidnapped again or something?” said Sam, stretching in his seat. “I gotta write up my report. Take him home Y/N. They’re leaving a few officers just in case.”

“I can do that,” you said. “Don’t stay too late, Sam.”

“I won’t,” said Sam, Dean leaving your side to head into his office.

“Y/N,” said Sam quietly. “Keep an eye on him. It might be a rough night for him.”

“He told you.”

“That he’s got PTSD? Yeah when we debriefed him he told me,” said Sam. “So keep an eye on him.”

“You tell him you do too?” you asked.

“No. Someday,” he said as Dean came back with his backpack. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Later Sammy,” said Dean with a wave.

“I’m regretting this already.”

“Ouch,” hissed Dean as you put a new bandage on his writs at home. “That hurts.”

“You’re supposed to change them every few hours and your other ones were all bloody. This cream is supposed to help you not scar,” you said, undoing his other wrist. He pouted as you removed the roll, his right wrist as torn up and scabbed as the left was. You ran your thumb over the back of his hand and he yanked it to his chest. You held up your hands and he offered it back slowly. “It’s alright.”

You tried to be more gentle as you put on the cream, carefully wrapping up the wrist again. Dean put his hands in his lap while you put the rest of the first aid stuff in your bathroom. You found him still sat on top of your bed when you returned, Dean picking at the bandage on his ankle.

“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” you asked.

“I’m sorry I put you in danger.” He kept his head down and you sat beside him, tucking your knees into your chest.

“You didn’t put me in danger. Bad people did. If it wasn’t you it would have been your supervisor or someone else that knew that code. They thought you were the easiest to get to was all. Now is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“Hold onto me tonight?” he asked.

“That I can do.” You wrapped your arms around him and he rested his head on your shoulder. “Want to talk about it?”

“Not tonight. But I will. I’ll tell you about the other stuff someday too.”

“Okay,” you said. “It’s pretty late. How about I get you some of Sam’s clothes to sleep in?”

“That big hoodie over there looks pretty nice,” he said, nodding to the one draped over your chair. You slid away and got up, helping him into it, tugging it down.

“Looks good on you,” you said. You turned on your corner light and hit off the main switch, pulling back the covers for both of you to get under.

“Y/N?” You hummed as you tugged the blankets up and wrapped your arms around him. “Be careful. Sam was right. Whoever wanted those weapons is still out there. They want to do something bad.”

“I will be. Seems like a lot of trouble to go through to steal some guns.”

“It’s not just guns in there. Maybe you got a point. Maybe they want something else in there,” said Dean.

“We’ll bring it up tomorrow. Tonight let’s try to relax okay?”

“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath, closing his eyes. “Thanks sweetheart.”

“Tomorrow’ll be better Dean, I promise.”

_________

A/N: Read the final part coming soon!

#tell me a story bingo #spn #supernatural #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #spn fanfic #dean fanfic #supernatural fanfic #dean x #dean x you

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vinnieworld · 3 years

Text

5 tips to boost 5 days of Productivity

We all love to procrastinate and most of us (including myself) have made sport out of this, but is this how we really should be approaching things?

The answer is NO.... apparently

So join me in my self evaluation of bringing you 5 tips how I avoided procrastination by being a bit lazy.

Being productive for a whole week when you have too much on your plate but you spend your entire weekend scrolling through social media... well me too :)

Though Mondays suck, its a brand NEW week so we can't let Mondays win and ruin out entire week right?

Tip 1 - Preparation before the week start

- Make a to do list - For the next day or the week

A short list of your most prioritised tasks e.g. starting that essay you been avoiding, even if it just picking the ttile

Make sure to not put too much pressure on these tasks

Keep it simple

DO NOT put too many things, be realistic only add things you know you can achieve

Little ramble on how this helped me :)

We all have those sleepless nights, especially when you have a 9am lecture/class the next day. Somehow you end up going to sleep at 4am still make it to your lecture on time, though the rush might be exciting this is not the way to start the week because your mind will get used to this so much and this becomes your normal routine.

Not going to lie, I am super guilty of this but I found out this not only drains my energy, it strips me away from my motivation and make me lazy all the time.

So one bazzare night I thought to myself what would I potentially want to do this coming week, so I got my phone started typing my "potential" to do list for the week, okay the list was quite long and seemed quite overwhelming, and I knew I wouldn't do all of this so though I made the list I didn't put too much pressure on this. When I checked back in the middle of the week I did most of the things on the do to list unconsiously. This was so surprising I never get things done.... what changed ?

Most of the time we put too much pressure ourself, that's why we procrastinate and they avoid the things we need to do. The minute the pressure is gone you get the urge to do your things even if you are unaware of it.

Tip 2 - Follow today's work TODAY

- Follow the lecture and make notes while you're attending the lecture

Take brief notes on what's on the slides

If the lecturer give extra info add those especially

DO NOT panic if you don't write everything on the slide, remember these are brief notes to for later revision

Speed is not important, what's important is that you have something written on the paper

when the lecture/class is finished fill in the gaps you left during it, do this right after while you still have the energy.

one page = one lecture (unless the lecture is 90 slides then its bit tricky)

Little ramble on how this helped me :)

I personally find it very hard to keep on top of things, especially with how different lecturers have different methods and speed with delivering their content. I tried many methods, recording the lectures, printing the slides, handwriting everything but it only made me bored of the things I was learning.

I can't stare at pages and pages of writing when I'm trying to revise, so best way for me to do this is if I have one page or two for the entire lecture. This helped me a lot of condense my notes, motivated me to keep writing and I felt accomplished by the end of every lecture.

Tip 3 - Keep one book for all your modules

- Invest in a chunky subject divider notebook

This is where you write the notes form the previous tip

One book to take to all your lectures, don't have to carry five or more

Write all the assignment and exams for that subject in the dividers (Kinda like a self-reminder)

Keep a general section where you write extra information that relates to the subjects (e.g. extra seminars, extra activity sessions, groups project notes, your own research for subjects, assignment preparation etc. )

Little ramble on how this helped me :)

Most of my detailed notes are digitalised, this is way easier then writing hours and hours of detailed notes by hand. But all the modules, lectures, practicals are separated so it's too much of hassle to find what I want when I want to have a quick glance at something.

Dividing the book by subject and seeing different content I am going to need regularly being on one place really is therapeutic for me, give me less stress so I don't have to spend time looking through pages of notes to find just one sentence.

Having one book for all my modules, helped me so much to keep on motivated to write notes and keep on top of it and when I revisit it, it's so pleasing to the eye.

Tip 4 - Write flashcards on the day

- Put little bit of extra into a flashcard

Once you finished a lecture, read back and pick the most key bits and write a maximum three sentences

Keep it very very brief

Think of pictograms for some words. e.g. little blog with stokes for a virus or a spark for electricity

Some info you can't fit on your page put it on the flashcard, like a diagram or a table

Little ramble on how this helped me :)

I am a sucker for flashcards, seeing them makes me so happy to revise. But making them when an exam is near is frustrating so if you make them before by the time you get your exam season you already have flashcards to revise from. How convenient!

Tip 5 - Write a sentence or research a bit everyday for your assignments

- Every time you feel like you done nothing today take a look assignment and write sentence - Take this step by step everyday and add information along the way

Pick a title first for whatever your assignment is

Do basic research on the title you chose

Do a basic plan

Improve on the basic research

Add information to the plan

and ect....

Little ramble on how this helped me :)

Doing assignments is tricky, very boring, they can be very long and stressful so we avoid even starting it until the day before it's due. Okay, we all work well under pressure but we don't really produce our best work under a day so investing little time everyday or every other helped me to produce more quality work than normal and it was less pressuring and stressful when I started the binge writing on two three days before the deadline, because all the research, preparation is done all I had to do was write and improve my work along the way.

I actually cannot recommend this enough because it saved me from a lot of breakdowns over my assignments. Just by adding something to it every now and then I basically finished my first draft by the time I actually want to start to write properly.

Bonus tip - Take the weekend off! - > If you're like me and get bored very easily with doing the work then follow these tips for the days you have school or uni, finish everything by Friday and take the whole weekend of .... TRUST ME you will be much more prepared for Monday.

Thank you so much ya'll for reading this, I do ramble a lot but it's a part of me that I embrace so I hope this was helpful for you and make sure to tell me your thoughts and feelings.

Till next time Lovelies x

#students #university #productivity #self improvement #study motivation #procrastination #study notes #tips and tricks #study tips

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catxsnow · 4 years

Text

UNDER THE MASK B.W.

Summary: You and Bruce were best friends your whole life until you grew apart. Seven years later, things changed when Batman shows up. Pre-Robin Batman

Warning: blood, angst, some fluff, mentions of smut at the end but it doesn’t go into detail at all. Swearing.

A/N: I’ve had this in my drafts for like three months whoops

Word count: 4.3k

You had known Bruce your whole life - literally.

With your parents being best friends, the two of you had been inseparable since you were in diapers. Growing up, he was the one person that you could always rely on and the only person that was able to make you smile when you were sad. Bruce knew more about you than you ever knew about yourself.

When his parents died, your whole family grieved alongside him. For a while, it had brought you even closer. You found yourself staying over at the Manor to watch over Bruce alongside Alfred. Nights that you would hear him crying, you would sneak in and sleep next to him. Even during school when kids would tease him you would stand up for him.

When high school rolled around, you found yourself closer than you ever had been with Bruce. One drunken mistake between the two of you and the next day it was all across the school that you were dating. For the first time in a long time, you saw him genuinely happy.

You weren't going to leave his side for anything, at least that was what you had thought.

As Bruce grew older, he also grew farther apart from you. Less evenings were spent together and soon your weekends went away too. He took over his family's company and disappeared off your radar at the same time. You were heartbroken by his absence. For years you had watched over him, now he had left you.

You had seen him all over the news. Paper headlines about what WE was planning for the future or some fancy gala that he attended with girls hanging off his arms. You couldn't help but think of the pang of hurt that ran through your chest every time you saw him with someone new. He was gone from you life and by the looks of it, he wasn't coming back.

There were the rare times that you would run into Alfred. He had raised you nearly as much as he had raised Bruce by the amount of time that you spent together. You always asked how Bruce was and it seemed to be the same answer every time: he's good, working hard at WE, keeps to himself half the time.

You had lost hope that you would ever get to be close to him again. Maybe you had lost hope when he had broken up with you after high school. Maybe, you out grew him and his life. The reality of it all, was that you had just given up.

If Bruce wanted to be a part of your life, he would have made the effort in the past seven years. Instead, he sat at the top of his Wayne Tower without a single thought of you. Why bother missing someone when they never missed you?

Just like any other night in Gotham, it was cold. You sat in your apartment with your blanket wrapped around you and a hot mug in your hand. Some movie played but it was more background noise than anything. Over the years, you had gained the bad habit of zoning out when you were alone. This happened to be one of those times.

Memories of you and Bruce as kids running around the Wayne Manor. The two of you getting in trouble with his parents and eventually Alfred. Apart, you were both well-behaved children, together, you were hooligans. No matter how many times you had gotten lectures, you would never stop your games.

You missed those times. Free of responsibilities, free of pain, free to do anything you wanted. Those days were long gone, and no amount of wishing would get them back.

A loud thud had brought you out of your daze. You nearly screamed at the sight of your window and if you weren't there to see it yourself, you wouldn't have believed it to be true. A dark figure hovered on your fire escape right outside your window. This was Gotham, you were terrified at first.

It wasn't until the figure turned his head that you realized it was Batman himself. You had heard the rumors of him in the city and what he did at night. You wouldn't have believed them either if you didn't have a run in with him.

It was several months back. You had worked late that night and the walk to your car had apparently been too late to go by yourself. It wasn't even half way there when some creep tried to grab hold of you and do god knows what. If it wasn't for Batman popping in and beating the ever living hell out of him, you weren't sure what was going to happen.

As far as you were aware, his intentions were good, but his methods terrified you. He showed no mercy against that man and you had been unnerved by him ever since. You were thankful for him that night, but you hoped to never run into him again.

Now, he was standing at your window looking like he was about to pass out and smearing blood all over the glass. You didn't know why he was there, or if it was just coincidence that it happened to be yours. It couldn't be, you were five stories up and if he was desperate enough, he wouldn't have gone to yours.

So, here you were debating whether or not to let him in to your home to see what the hell was wrong with him and what he wanted. For some damned reason, you had gone against your gut and unlocked your window for him to crawl in. Batman nearly collapsed against the ground, his hand against his side.

"(Y/N)..." he mumbled out. You didn't know how he knew your name, but that wasn't your worry at the moment. A gash as long as your forearm tore through his skin. He should have been at a hospital, but you suppose that wasn't really an option for him.

"Holy fuck," you breathed out. His eyes fluttered in and out of consciousness until finally resting. If it wasn't for the faint rise and fall of his chest, you were sure that he would have been dead. You scrambled to your pathetic excuse of a first aid kit and went to work on his wound.

With the blood wiped away, you could see that the gash wasn't particularly deep. He had lost enough blood to concern you though and if he lost any more you were sure you were going to have to call an ambulance.

You drenched the wound with alcohol but you couldn't bandage it unless his suit came off. Instead, you settled on cutting away the weakened material and placing long bandage on as best as you could. It wasn't near perfect, but at least he wasn't going to die in your living room anymore.

As the adrenaline started to wear off, you realized just what kind of mess you were in. The great Batman was passed out on your floor by god knows who and you had no idea why. You paced around your living room, blood staining your hands and your heart racing a mile a minute. This was by far insane.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you muttered to yourself. What was going to happen when he woke up? If he woke up? What if he died and you had to explain to the cops why Batman was dead in your home? That wasn't something that you could handle. However, you knew that if he had risked his well-being to show up at some random person's apartment instead of the cops, then you knew you couldn't call 911.

The curiosity of who was behind the mask was eating you alive. You couldn't fathom who was idiotic enough to try and fight crime in Gotham in a suit based on an animal. He was out cold, there was no way that he would know if you took one little peak under to see who it was.

With a sigh, you went against your desires. Instead, you grabbed one of the pillows on your couch and tucked it under his head. The nervous twitch in your limbs wouldn't go away and you were sure that it would never go away while he was here. With high hopes, you drew your blanket around yourself and took your place on the couch once more.

Not once did you eyes live the unconscious body on your floor. Blood was no longer dripping from his wound but it was still smeared across your floor. This was the last thing that you expected to happen that night.

It was hours that you were staring at the same place. Hours of wondering if he was going to be okay and who he really was. Batman's mask was the last thing that you saw before sleep had consumed you.

You woke up the next morning with a start. Sprawled out on the couch with your blanket half on you. Memories of what happened the night before hit you like a freight train. Batman.

The man that had shown up last night was no longer on your floor. The pillow that he had was returned onto your couch and the remnants of his blood was the only proof that it wasn't some fucked up dream. You scrambled off your couch and ran around your apartment to see if he was still within it.

Thankfully, he wasn't. Instead a note was on your kitchen counter that hadn't been there the night before.

'Thank you. I owe you. -B'

Short and brief, it was still more than you were ever expecting from him. However, it wasn't the note that had gotten you shocked, it was the writing. You knew that handwriting from anywhere, you had grown up with it.

From learning how to spell and write, to passing notes in class, and for a brief moment in your life - love notes. This writing was something that you would recognize from anywhere at any time. It was Bruce's.

There was no way, Bruce couldn't be Batman. He was the owner of a multi-billion dollar company he didn't have time to dress up in a costume. Bruce was just some rich kid who slept with any woman he wanted to. Right?

There was only one way to find out - and you were going to make sure of it. You knew your way to the Manor like the back of your hand. Your parents had driven you there hundreds of times and Alfred even more. You knew the ins and outs of that place more than anyone. It had been your home for a long time too.

However, driving up to the gates filled your heart with terror. It had been seven long years since you had been here and you didn't know if you were ever welcomed back. Not to mention that if your theory was wrong, you would look like nothing but a deranged fool trying to get back into Bruce's life.

It was worth the risk, it had to be. When you were kids, you always made fun of how Bruce would write his ‘B’. It drove him crazy but he refused to ever change it - it was exactly like how his father wrote it. Elegant and flawless.

The gates opened wide before you could even put your car in park to get access. The closer your drove up, the more you got nervous. Seven years without seeing Bruce, far too long for someone you thought was going to be in your life forever. You didn't even know what you wanted to say to him or where to even start.

The door to his home was surprisingly unlocked. You were sure that this must have been Alfred's doing, as well as being the one to let you in. He didn't appear at the front door like he used to upon your arrival. Then again, maybe he just didn't want to get between you and Bruce.

The Manor hadn't changed much since you had been there last. In fact, it didn't look like it changed at all. The study still looked the same. Shelves of books lining the wall and a sturdy wooden desk in the middle. That was always one of your favourite places to be.

You continued your journey, each room bringing back memories that you had completely forgotten about. Times that you and Bruce ran around, nearly destroying everything in your path. Others where the two of you would try and sneak up on Alfred. You felt a sense of longing the farther you went through his home.

It wasn't until you reached Bruce's room did you finally stop. His door was closed and you weren't sure what was going to be waiting for you on the other side of it. You did know, that if you stayed out there for any longer you would have turned right back around and pretended as if this never happened.

So, without even knocking, you had flung his door open. Bruce was buttoning up his shirt of the day. He looked surprised to see you there. Not that you could blame him, it had been close to a decade since you last spoke.

"(Y/N)," Bruce's face lit up. He finished tucking in his shirt as he stalked across the room towards you. "What are you doing here?" Bruce lifted his arms up as if he was going to hug you but you had stepped back. Confusion filled his eyes and he lowered himself back down.

"You have a lot of fucking explaining to do, Bruce Wayne," you snapped. A fire filled your eyes but Bruce had acted as if he was confused. "Showing up to my apartment last night half fucking dead in a bat suit? Are you fucking insane?"

"What are you talking about?" Bruce asked. "I was here last night, ask Alfred." You rolled your eyes at his life and fished the note out of your pocket.

"I know your hand writing, Bruce." You shoved the paper in his face until he grabbed it from your hold. "It might have been a long time since I've seen you last but you still haven't learned how to lie to me."

"(Y/N)," Bruce kept calm. "This is ridiculous, do you honestly think that -" You had cut him off with an attempt to jab at where the wound have been from the night before. Just as your fingers grazed the material of his shirt, he had caught your wrist. Darkness filled his eyes like you had never seen before.

"Take off your shirt."

"I didn't realize that we were going to get so close so quickly again," Bruce tried to joke, but you could hear the strain in his voice. You had too much frustration in you to try and listen to him change your mind.

"Now, Bruce!" You raised your voice. Bruce dropped your wrist and hung his head low. He should have never gone to your apartment last night. However, he was on the street below fighting a gang of men that had him far too out numbered. He knew exactly where your home was, it was the closest place for him to go.

Reluctantly, Bruce did as he was told. It was agonizingly slow as he undid the buttons of his shirt and pull of the material. Just as you expected, a long bandage covered his torso, right where you had patched Batman up the night before. It was changed, this time done much neater than yours.

You jaw was tight as you looked at his scarred skin. With a huff of air, you had stormed out of his room and towards the front door. This had been exactly what you were expecting and yet the truth seemed to sting a wound that you hadn't felt in a long time. Betrayal.

"(Y/N)! Wait!" Bruce called out for you. He latched onto your wrist once more and stopped your movements.

"Seven years Bruce! You dropped out of my life seven years ago and never tried to see me again! Do you know how much that fucking hurt me? We had been best friends my entire life and you just fucked off without so much as a reason why! I was so lost without you, I was alone!" You felt tears well up in your eyes.

"You don't get to come to my apartment needing my help and then pretend like it wasn't you under that mask!" You ripped your hand out of his hold. "Fuck you Bruce. Fuck you for leaving me. Fuck you for making me wonder what went wrong for so many years. Fuck you for breaking my heart!"

Your voice finally cracked and the tears spilled down your face. Bruce could feel the grief rolling off you. He knew what it was like to be consumed by the pains of your past and he never realized how badly he had hurt you. Leaving you was the only way to keep you safe while he was on this journey to become someone else.

Bruce pulled you into his chest. Sobs racked through your entire body as he held you close, just like when you were younger. One of his hands rested on the back of your head, keeping you as close to his heart as he could.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he whispered to you. You would understand why he did what he did one day. Once this pain was gone from you, you would be able to see that he did it to keep you safe. He never wanted to hurt you, of course he didn't. Bruce loved you his whole life, that was never going to change.

Heart-wrenching sobs echoed through the manor. It broke Bruce to see you like this, to know that he was the one to cause you this pain. He was different now, but his place for you in his heart was just the same as it always was. No matter how cold he got, you were always able to bring the brightness out within him.

"I didn't want you to see me change into the person I am now," Bruce tried to explain to you. Your cries had quieted but the tears continued to flow. "I'm not the same person that I once was. I just... I couldn't drag you through that. I didn't want to. You were the only good thing out of my life and I couldn't bare the thought of tainting you with this... darkness in me."

You pulled away from him and wiped the tears from your cheeks. "Just because you dress up as a Bat at night didn’t mean I didn't want you in my life," you shook your head at his ridiculous train of thought. There was still anger in your voice. "I've known you forever. Don't you think I didn't know that you changed the second your parents died? You've been wearing a mask for a long time before you decided to change it to this one."

"I'm sorry," Bruce averted his gaze. Guilt that he hadn't felt in years consumed him. He always told himself that keeping you away was for the best. It was the only way to protect you and keep you safe against the crime he went against.

"Sorry isn't going to cut it this time, Bruce," your hands drew into fists. "How the hell did you think I wasn't going to want to be part of this? You never even asked me! You needed me then more than ever! Now more than ever! And you choose to be a selfish asshole instead. You never thought about anyone but yourself."

"I did this to protect you," Bruce tried to argue. He should have known that you wouldn't understand why he did what he did. After all these years, you were right - sorry wasn't going to cut it. He felt terrible for just leaving you, it was the biggest mistake that he had ever made.

"Protect me?" You raised your voice even more. "Nothing could ever hurt me as much as you leaving my life. If you wanted to protect me, you wouldn't have left. It's been seven years since I've seen you, seven years of trying to forget about you.

"I loved you, Bruce, more than anyone. You ruined that the second that you walked out my door for the last time," You scoffed, turning away from him. Your throat felt constricted and tears burned your eyes. Bruce leaving you was the biggest heartbreak you had to endure. No man ever proved to be better than him, you couldn't move on.

"(Y/N)," Bruce's voice went soft. He reached out to grab your shaking hand. To both of your surprises, you let him. His hands were calloused after the years of hard work he had gone through. You felt small in his grip, just like the child that you were when you were his best friend.

"I should have never assumed that you wouldn't want to be part of this life," Bruce went on. You finally turned back to face him again. "I wanted to keep you safe and that was the only way that I knew how at the time. You're one of the only people left that I truly care about and I couldn't bare the thought of losing you."

"I've been with you since birth, Bruce. Don't you think I want to be with you until death as well?" You held hope in your eyes that he would take you back. After all this time, all the anger and frustration that you had at him, it seemed to wash away the second that you looked into his beautiful blues.

Bruce Wayne was a stubborn, arrogant, asshole. He had been for a long time, but you knew that he was still one of the most caring people in the world, even if he didn't show it. Deep down, as much as you didn't want to believe him, you knew that what he did was to keep you safe.

He was a genius man, both in business and in life. He knew how the world worked and fought against it to make it right again. You respected him, even when you were mad at him. Bruce had a way of getting the world to love him, even if it was never the real him that he showed. You were the only person that knew the real him - besides Alfred.

"(Y/N)," Bruce dragged his hands up your arms until resting them at the base of your neck. Though he looked older, more muscular since the last time that you had seen him - he was still the same man you loved. Without another word, Bruce tilted down to meet you lips. It had been years since you had kissed him, yet it only felt like yesterday.

Without breaking your kiss, he led you back into his bed room, slamming the door on the way. You didn't have intentions of this happening - none at all. You came here to get mad at Bruce, finally have so long awaited answered, and leave with a weight off your chest that you had been carrying around for years.

Sleeping with him was not on your agenda.

Bruce was a player, he knew how to get his way. It didn't take him long to master the art of distracting women and avoiding an unwanted conversation. He had managed to do it to you lots when you were dating in high school and by the looks of it, he still had a hold over you. Bruce knew how to get to your heart, and your pants.

Moans of pleasure cascaded through his room. The years apart had left you more experienced and god did it show. Bruce had gave you more pleasure than any other man in your life ever could. He still knew you better than anyone - in nearly every way possible.

"Fuck," you breathed out. A layer of sweat covered your bodies as you laid against his sheets. Heavy breathing filled the room and you were still soaking up the orgasm that he had given you. "That shouldn't have happened. I'm still furious at you."

"I know," Bruce kept his voice tight. The wound that he had gotten the prior night was flaring up with pain but it had been worth it to be with you again. "I know that nothing I do will change the past... but I'm giving you the choice now. All I want is for you to be back in my life, but once you're in, there's no going back.

"This new life I have is dangerous, you need to know that. But if you're willing, I'd love to have you be a part of it," Bruce asked. He wanted you back, he always wanted to crawl back to you and beg for forgiveness. The better part of him always stopped himself.

"Why did you come to my apartment last night?" You changed the subject. "Why not back here? Or a hospital, or anywhere else?"

"Because I knew I could trust you no to reveal who I really was."

"Then why leave the note?" You barged on. There were so many questions that you had for him, but these two were the ones that were bothering you the most. He was smart enough to have known that you could have figured it out. Batman was far too cautious to be so stupid to leave a note for a stranger.

"Because I was hoping you would figure out that it was me all on your own," Bruce confessed. He had one arm rested under his head and the other resting on his chest. He didn't look at you, too afraid to see what your reaction was going to be with his words. "And you did."

"I'll join you, Bruce. You can't shut me out again, I can't handle another heartbreak like that," You decided. Being back with Bruce, even for this short time had filled the emptiness in your chest that had been void for years. He was the missing piece in your life, and as much as you knew it, you tried to fill it with anything else.

"I promise."

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne one shot #batfam #batfam imagine #batfam one shot #batman #batman imagine #batman oneshot #batman x reader #dc one shot #dc imagine #dc #fluff #angst #catxsnow writes

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mofieroll · 4 years

Text

You Too (Jotaro Kujo x Fem!Reader)

Inspired from my in-character interaction with @mistaeq! Dedicated to them for motivating me to write! 💛

A Post!SDC Jotaro x Reader one shot where you bond with Holly, who you call Seiko, and pamper your man Jotaro.

Trigger Warning: Mentions of Trauma

Word Count: 3k

Two years have passed since the events of the Crusaders' trip to Egypt to save the life of Holly Kujo from being taken by her own Stand. To say that the trip was memorable is an understatement. It was too memorable. The memories of built friendships and increased attachments in just a span of fifty days were unbearable, for fate made the surviving comrades of the group pay for all the joyous moments with the pain of death and eternal separation.

It was hard. Painful. Frightening. Heartbreaking.

It was excruciatingly traumatizing, that even the boy who appeared to be unbothered and distant, the boy who put an end to the cold-blooded century old vampire's curse, couldn't deny it.

Jotaro Kujo couldn't get away from the memories of his dying friends, and so, the supposed flashbacks became inescapable nightmares.

But fortunately, that was until you came.

You met Jotaro a month after he came back from his trip. The meeting was a mere coincidence as you were a year lower than him, you personally did not and had no intentions of getting to know him. It just so happened that Holly or Seiko, his mother, came across your small shop that sold self-designed accessories made from recycled materials. You had told her you search and pick the materials —mostly trash— yourself, which certainly piqued the woman's interest and told you, “Is that right? I have a son, and don't tell him I told you this, but he loves marine animals! It seems you are both fond of nature so I'm sure you'll get along— Oh! I'm sorry dear, we haven't introduced ourselves! I'm Holly Kujo, but you can call me Seiko~”. She was a sweetheart, so you saw no harm in accepting her offer that led you to become a close acquaintance of the Kujo Family.

Much to the matchmaker's Seiko's dismay, it took a year for you and Jotaro to confess that your platonic feelings are in need of a level up. She is Jotaro's mother and your first Kujo friend, of course she'd notice if something was up between you and Jotaro that you both refused to talk about! When you finally re-introduced yourself as Jotaro's.. cough.. girlfriend, Seiko was delighted and decided to treat her second favorite couple (next to her parents Joseph and Suzie) to a nice romantic dinner! The unplanned date embarrassed Jotaro, but he endured it as it gave a good start for the new level of your relationship with him.

Until then, Jotaro became more and more protective. You found it sweet knowing that your boyfriend, former acquaintance, cares about you and shows affection in ways you quite expected for a forbearing man like him. He's not a man of words nor materialistic gifts but a man of straightforward actions— yet he remained mysterious.

Jotaro has been avoiding you since the week has started. He distanced himself yet guarded you as you walked home after class everyday. Everytime you tried to catch him, he's nowhere to be seen. You started to get frustrated, and you know you wouldn't get any explanation even if you corner him and face him alone.

Seiko called you today and asked if you could have dinner wih them, which you excitedly agreed to because you were actually on the way to the Kujo household, a paper bag —which contained your newly designed rings and necklace— in hand.

With Seiko greeting you outside their gates, you entered their traditional mansion and told her about the happenings from the previous days. Even with the mention of Jotaro's sudden actions, Seiko chatted with you nonchalantly.

“Dear, you know my boy would do things that can be a little too unexpected even for me,” Seiko stated, “But if there's one thing or two that I can assure of, is that he means no harm..” You stopped in your tracks as she faced you and tucked your hair behind your ear, smiling, “And he cares for you, [Y/N]. I think, that may be his way of showing it!” Seiko spoke with softness, hopeful that her words would reach you and get rid of any confusion that would spark a misunderstanding on her stoic son's intentions.

You smiled back at Seiko with teary eyes, touched by her comfort. You pulled out the necklace from your paper bag and showed it to her, quietly telling her that it's your gift, only to receive an enthusiastic squeal and hug before you locked the accessory around her neck.

“It looks perfect on you Seiko! I wonder if I'd be as beautiful as you when I reach your age..” You sighed and pouted at Seiko, holding the paper bag on your middle.

“Oh, you!” Seiko playfully hit you as you both giggled, “You shouldn't say such things to a middle aged woman, [Y/N]! I might believe you!” Seiko joked while you insisted that you're sincere about your compliment.

Your chat continued on until she told you to run along and check on her boy, not forgetting to tease that Jotaro misses you. You face warmed in pink, which Seiko found so cute that she had to pinch your cheeks. With her positive and welcoming presence, your determination to face Jotaro fueled.

Seiko informed you that she'll be preparing dinner. You replied, “Mhm! I'll drag Jotaro and we'll meet you here at the dining room! Is that okay?”

“Okay~!”

—

Meanwhile Jotaro, who hasn't come out of his room the whole day, heard you and Seiko pass by. He was sitting in the far corner of his room but the combined voices of yours and his mother's particularly blasted through his ears. He's.. happy.. that you're both safe and sound.. but— why are you here? You should be at home! Did something happen? Did someone bother you? Wait.. did you come here alone? Didn't he tell you even before that you shouldn't go out at night? What if.. what if something happened to you? What if someone showed up and.. and took you away? Took you somewhere.. he can't reach.. What if his dreams were to happen? What if—

Knock! Knock!

Jotaro's sweating face turned to look at his door as his breathing became more unsteady. His eyes widened, brows clashed, and his mouth was agape, gasping for more air. His fists were clenched and he was trembling, who's knocking? Who's trying to get him again?

“Kujo?”

Jotaro stopped breathing for a second while his body still trembled. The voice that called him held sweetness and concern in it but he was still in a dark trance. What if someone's trying to deceive him?

“Seiko called me, may I come in?”

His widened eyes calmed, turning his tormented expression into one of those longingness. His shuddering arm reached out as he subconsciously stood and walked towards his shut door. His cold hand gripped the handle.. but he didn't have the slightest strength to pull it himself. What is he doing? He can't face anyone like this, especially..

On the other side of Jotaro's door was you, with a hand that also gripped the cold handle, waiting for the right timing to enter. Your heartbeat has increased its pace, indicating your uptight feeling of facing him after not seeing him for over a week. You were nervous and a short flashback of your first meeting with Jotaro popped up in your mind. Has it really been two years?

Jotaro never directly told you of his.. episodes. But, there were times where you just happened to observe that whenever you were late on your meeting, he immediately scoops you in a hug while he trembles; or whenever you randomly visit him on weekends and you enter his room only with a knock, he abruptly charges at you with his folded fist stopping inches from your worried face. He didn't tell you about what's haunting him, not even once. Yes, you were undeniably frustrated by him avoiding you, but you love him well enough to have the willingness to act up whilst having patience.

You waited for more minutes before speaking again, “I'm gonna enter now, alright?” You assured, carefully sliding the door behind you and turning on the light switch after you entered.

Your eyes wandered after it adjusted to the lit room, locking on the form of a slouched man in the corner, sitting with a knee up that had his arm and head resting on it while his other knee was folded. You quietly sighed and walked close to him, hiding the impatience to throw yourself at him and pepper him with kisses, mumbling i missed yous. You would have done it, but that kind of affection.. goes for later.

You sat beside Jotaro and placed the paper bag on your side. You weren't too close nor too far from him, just enough to have your hand caress his messy dark hair. You loved seeing him without his hat, seeing his flawless face be shadowless. But if he took it off, the reason is either he's agitated or.. sleep. There was a time when you told him that he should take off his hat indoors and a time you tried to take it off yourself, but he completely ignored you at both and kept the hat on.

“How are you?” You asked without expecting a reply. It was to make him acknowledge your presence, and that is because you didn't know that he's been waiting for you to come in since the moment he heard your voice.

Jotaro wanted to answer. He wanted to lock you in his arms and.. say sorry. He wanted to apologize for neglecting you but— how is he going to do that without telling you too much?

“Why the f*ck did my mother call you? I don't need any help. That b*tch.”

There it is, his method of putting up a tough facade, the swearing that would prompt anybody to think that he needs no help. It worked on you once, but you're not just anybody to him now.

“Mhm. Seiko checked up on me while I was heading home from.. somewhere. She invited me for dinner,” You informed. You didn't want to tell him that you were on your way here even before Seiko called you, knowing full well that he's against you ‘roaming’ at night alone.

You continued to comb through his hair as he answered, “For real [Y/N], I'm fine. Leave. I don't need you to stay here— or.. or something.”

Your hand lowered to his upper back and started to rub circles, “Would you look at me and say that again, Kujo?” you asked in a slightly teasing tone, trying to light up the mood.

You started humming a soft melody, a melody that somehow always soothed Jotaro. The first time you hummed it was when you were cooking dinner for him and Seiko wasn't home. He got into a fight that day and he was abnormally quiet, not the usual, resulting to a tension between the two of you. You hummed the melody to ease the atmosphere, and when you were placing his plate on the table, he suddenly grabbed your wrist and muttered an apology before he told you to ‘keep doing’ what you were doing. The melody was just random, so you did your best to remember its tone and hum it whenever you both need comfort.

And this time, he was soothed again, but he isn't going to be swayed so easily even if he wants to.

“F*cking go away.” He huffs, “You're just like the annoying b*tch. Leave me alone.”

No, stay. He stated in his mind the complete opposite of what came out of his mouth. Of course you didn't leave and continued to hum and rub circles on his back. He may be one of the harshest men you've met, but you have a counter for that. Well.. you're stubborn.

He remembered what you said about heading home from.. somewhere. Where was that? “Where were you coming from?” He asked in a demanding tone.

“Doesn't matter where I was, Kujo. You're still not looking at me.” You retreated your hand from his back and crawled to sit in front of him in crossed legs before placing your hands on his large ones, “I wouldn't mind being like Seiko, although..” You squeezed the top of his hands, bowed your body and peeked at his face where your warm [E/C] eyes met his tired yet enchanting aquamarines. Your lips quirked into a small smile, “You wouldn't want your partner to be your second mother, would you?”

Partner?

Jotaro looked at you blankly, not realizing how close your faces were, “You're still worrying about me too much, I'm fine. I'm.. I'm just remembering..” You straightened and held his cheeks, gently pulling up his face before standing on your knees. You shifted your hand and cupped his face, delicately looking at him to encourage him to speak.

In that moment where he's putting his toughness down, you've completely set aside the issue from the past week. The thoughts that Jotaro might've had enough of you because he thinks you're oblivious to his personal issues— all gone. Holly's words echoed through your mind. Mother truly knows best.

“Egypt.. friends dyi—” Jotaro cut his words and sighed deeply, “..all of it is hitting hard. You won't understand.”

You bit your bottom lip and nodded. He's right, you would not be able to understand, but that's temporary. It'll take more time for him but you're willing to wait, “I.. dream of you..” He swallows the lump in his throat while you wipe the sweat forming on his temple, “I dream of you dying too.”

With that, you were able to catch on more of what happened before you came in his life. People close to him died. People who he probably traveled with.. might have died right before him.. or not. And now he's being haunted, probably by the guilt or by the experience itself. You're still skeptical, but it's considerably clear now.

Your eyes that looked at your hand which wiped his bead of sweat shifted to his eyes, and you saw fear. He was frightened, not only by the past, but also by the possibility that he might lose you too.

You retreated your hands and sat on your legs as you and Jotaro continued to communicate through your eyes. Your heart was thumping fast against your chest, now of sympathy.

“Jotaro, I..”

This time, you threw yourself at him. Arms snaking around his neck, your face buried on his shoulder. You wrapped him in a tight hug as it took him time to return the affection, wrapping his arms around your back and pulling you even closer as he closed his eyes and basked his head on yours. You and Jotaro savored the hug for a while, not thinking about anything else aside being in each other's arms.

“I'm here.. and I'm telling you that I'll be here to love you longer than that delinquent head of yours expected.”

You broke the hug gently, a hand shifting to cup his cheek while you also reached for the paper bag. Jotaro opened his eyes as he felt you fix his sitting position so you could sit —with crossed legs— on his thighs, laying your back on his chest.

“See this?” You lifted the paper bag with both hands, giving Jotaro the chance to once again wrap his arms around your waist. He doesn't mind giving in to your touch as of now.

Jotaro grunted, “Inside this lovely recycled and eco-friendly paper bag are things that.. uhm.. how do I introduce it..” You slowly placed your head on his shoulder, putting the bag down between your legs. You contemplated as you stared on the wooden ceiling, “I know! The things.. consider it as our promise to each other, Kujo. Am I clear? Yep, I'm clear!”

Jotaro clicked his tounge in annoyance as you lifted your head from his shoulder when he was about to rest his head against yours. Why can't he just cuddle you without you moving too much? Can't you and him just cuddle in peace?

You shifted again, now face to face with him. You acted surprise when you saw his furrowed brow, “Oh? Kujo is annoyed with the mighty [L/N]?”

“Just get it over with, woman.” Jotaro supported your back with an arm, watching you as you struggled to hold his free hand with one of yours. You had set aside the paper bag, the things in it now hidden in your other hand.

When you finally settled with wrapping your small hand around his palm so his fingers were loose, you smiled up at him and swiftly leaned in to kiss the tip of his nose. Jotaro turned away, snorting to at least lessen his flustered state. Where is his hat now that he practically needs it?

Jotaro felt a cold thing graze his skin, along with what seems to be two fingers pushing the thing on his. He glanced and saw you inserting a ring on his pinky with a serious face. You were glaring at his hand, your smile only returning when you successfully inserted the ring.

You let go of his hand and was about to wear the other ring yourself when he grabbed your wrist, snatched the ring and easily inserted the accessory on your pinky, all of it with only one hand as his other arm was still supporting you.

You were taken aback, ready to question him when he pulled you into a bridal position and locked your upper body with his arms within a second. You chuckled instead of saying a thing, wrapping your arms around his torso.

“Keen for a cuddle, huh, Kujo?”

“Good grief. You're one brave woman to challenge me.”

As you and Jotaro became ignorant to your surroundings, a flash of a camera resided from the slightly opened door, the sound being followed by a muffled kyaaah! which, with no doubt, came from the adorably giddy mother of the impatient man in your arms.

[End!]

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nagisasstunningpersonality · 4 years

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Korosuu Translation - Chapter One

Some notes before we begin:

This is the only piece of official Ass Class content that - to my knowledge - is not translated anywhere. It doesn’t look like anyone has any plans to, so I’ve decided to take the task upon myself. This book is kind of like the korotans, but teaches maths instead of English. It also has a Chiba and Hayami focused short story, which is what I will translate here.

I am not fluent in Japanese. I’m a mere university student who has been studying for about two years now. Whilst I feel confident enough to get the general meanings of things, I have had to use a dictionary pretty heavily with this and some word meanings and grammar parts might be incorrect. I’m only making this because I want people to be able to enjoy the book, so it’s no professional calibre translation and I please ask that you take everything with a pinch of salt. I know there are mistakes and sentences that don’t feel right, but I think you can still get the general meaning.

The tenses are weird because Matsui kind of wrote them that way, and I generally decided not to alter them. This is my first time translating prose (I’ve only done manga panels in the past), so I’m not sure if this is a common thing in Japanese books or not.

Whilst I’ve naturalised some sentences, others are a little more hard for me to reword so a prewarning that they may come across as a little stiff and awkward in parts. I’m still learning with this.

Okay now that’s out of the way, the chapter!

Chapter One - Invisible Sniper Time

During the usual E Class’ usual lunch break, Chiba Ryuunosuke, Okajima Taiga, and also Takebayashi Kotarou are gathered together, and are enjoying chatting as usual. This was the usual scenery that happened every day.

However, the usual atmosphere was a little different that day. The trigger was something that Chiba murmured.

“That’s why Chiba, you’ve tried that method over and over again, yeah? I realised that it wouldn’t be enough, so right now I’m using it in combinations with other methods.” Okajima said with a dumbfounded face, whilst holding a camera.

“I get it, that’s why I wondered if you could do it.” Chiba answered in a way that might seem blunt to people who he didn’t know. Since he covered his eyes with long bangs, he was easily misunderstood by a few people, but his close classmates knew that with the same old warmth, he was a cool and collected guy.

Takebayashi heard that, and points out whilst fixing his glasses with his index finger “if you snipe with a single shot, the sound of fire will always arrive before the bullet. Korosensei will sense the trajectory in the direction of the sound and easily avoid it. Afterall, he’s a Mach 20 monster.”

“What are you talking about?” They were interrupted by Hayami Rinka. Alongside Chiba, she’s the girl with the highest sniper results.

“Nah, Chiba was saying there isn’t a way to assassinate Korosensei with just a sniper.” When Takebayashi answered, Hayami tilted her head.

That assassination had been tried many times by Chiba and two people. There were shooting results from the two top participants. However, it all failed due to the reason Takebayashi said, and the superhuman ability of the target teacher. A simple sniper alone cannot kill him first. That should be the conclusion made between the two of them.

Chiba saw Hayami’s expression and immediately understood her thoughts, and then connected them to words. “I know it’s impossible, but it feels regrettable to do nothing like this.”

“Yeah,” Hayami nodded.

“Class, please listen.” Karasuma Tadaomi entered the classroom, and stood on the platform as he spoke to everyone on the spot. “I’ll tell you whilst he’s gone. The government has hired a new assassin.”

They weren’t surprised, because this wasn’t the first time. The government has hired professional assassins several times, but it was the usual pattern to give advance notice when there was a risk of involving the students in the E Class.

“Karasuma Sensei, what type of assassin is coming this time?” Kataoka Megu, who was chatting close by, asks.

“A slightly famous person. According to the source, they’re called the ‘Legendary Sniper’.” When Karasuma answered, Chiba and Hayami’s faces immediately perked up.

“A nickname without a twist…” Okajima forces a smile.

“Their exaggerated name means they’re not ashamed of their great skill. In everything, they seem to have succeeded in sniping many times from an impossible position.”

“Impossible position?” Takebayashi shook his head at Karasuma’s words.

“If I’m talking specifics, they would be behind the building, but still hit the target on the other side with a bullet. Of course, without shooting through the glass or anything like that. Is that an interested face?” The last word that Karasuma spoke was directed to Chiba and Hayami, not Takebayashi.

The pair nodded at the same time.

“From this standpoint, you can’t help too much, but there’s probably something you can investigate. Especially for you two and the others, it might be a reference for future assassination?”

“I don’t think there’s any reference if the sniper kills Korosensei.”

At the sound of Takebayashi’s voice, Karasuma shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t think so. He can’t be killed by a human who doesn’t even know him at all. Even if this opponent is called the Legendary Sniper. Isn’t it better for you?”

Gathering information had never been so difficult. They searched their smart phones and their own laptops for sniper related incidents in the international news, and found many such articles. Most of it was written in English, but thanks to Nakamura Rio, who was close by to Takebayashi, it didn’t take long to read.

“That’s exactly what Karasuma Sensei said… Look at this, they were shot between the bullet proof limousine door the instant it opened. The line of fire should have been from this direction.” Chiba lifts the screen of the laptop he was looking at. Right there, there was an article that said the leader of a criminal organisation was assassinated under strict vigilance.

“Is that difficult?”

When Okajima looked at the screen, Chiba nodded.

“It seemed that it they were surrounded by bodyguards when they got out of the limousine, and the building they were trying to enter was an organisational building. There is no sniping point you can use to shoot into a limousine from over there.”

“Is it possible to hide and shoot?” Additionally, Okajima leant over.

Chiba shook his head. “They were only about ten meters away from the building. No matter how well they hid, they were probably able to shoot at such a distance. But this article isn’t sure where this sniper was.”

“That’s also true. They were shot from the front of the building whilst the police force were guarding. Not only the front, but all surrounding buildings were closed, and they were being monitored from above.” Hayami was looking at a case in Europe where a top enterprise was shot.

“The headline is also ‘A Magician’s Work? The Fear of the Invisible Sniper’. If this is a tabloid paper, I won’t do it anymore,” Nakamura said, looking at his laptop over Hayami’s shoulder.

“I found a number of different articles dealing the same case, so it seems like it really happened.”

“That’s right. But doing this is refreshing, hmm.”

Hayami thinks about Nakamura’s words.

“Hey, look at this. ‘Strangely, the bullets found on the scene were spherical, reminiscent of muskets’. Could this not be a hint?” At the point where Nakamura pointed, there was an English sentence she translated, and a small photo next to it was a silver bullet like a pachinko ball placed side by side with a rifle bullet for comparison.

Chiba also leaned to look at Hayami’s smart phone, and gave a big nod.

“Yeah, it helps, Nakamura. I think this is probably a really big hint.” Chiba, who usually doesn’t express many emotions, gazed at the screen whilst speaking with an unusually warm tone.

“Hey~, what have you been doing for so long?” Kurahashi Hinano called from behind Nakamura. When they explained clearly, Kurahashi replied with a smile. “Huh, it looks interesting doesn’t it? So, did you understand anything?”

“Originally, there isn’t enough information in online articles. I think we need to do something more.” Takebayashi answered.

Chiba nodded whilst Takebayashi was speaking.

“Right?” Kurahashi’s face perked up as she looked at Takebayashi’s laptop.

“If that’s the case, why don’t we go to the article and look at them?”

“That’s a good idea, but it’s all about Europe and America… right?” After answering Nakamura, Chiba looked at his own smartphone and frowned. “This article is in English, but it looks like the scene is in Japan.”

“What happened?” Nakamura used the smartphone and clicked on the screen that appeared. “Ah, there was also an article in Japanese. It looks like they did it for the news. It’s in Shibuya, Tokyo. It looks like they wrote about a mafia boss of the international expanding yakuza.”

“It’s decided~ This weekend, let’s have a picnic at the crime scene in Shibuya!!” Kurahashi pounded her hands on the table.

That’s the end! It took me quite a while to do this, so don’t expect the next chapter right away! I’ll try my best to complete the whole book, though!

Chapter two

My comments under the cut

I don’t really get why Karma and Nagisa are in the illustration, when they’re literally not even mentioned lmao.

Karasuma acts like this is a regular thing? That they just get random assassins joining their class every now and then? I guess it’s OC time for those wanting to write missing episode fics!

It’s really nice to get some proper Chiba and Hayami dialogue, I hope this will be helpful to those who want to write them. I also love the dynamic of Nakamura joining in.

It seems like the students bring their own laptops to class? That’s an interesting canon addition.

And can we just have a moment to talk about Kurahashi? Literally slapping the fucking table in excitement at the prospect of having an assassination picnic? Incredible. We stan.

#assassination classroom #ass class #ansatsu kyoushitsu #korosuu #chibahaya

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swiftlymoniquesblog · 3 years

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He Asks You On A Date- Harry Potter Preference

A/N: Oh, I really want to go on all these dates with the boys! Geez, they’re such romantics; who knew! Well, I did obviously cause I wrote these but whatever, lol! Leave a comment on who you’d like to go out with most; I wanna hear everyone’s thoughts! I’m glad to see some Harry Potter fans coming in and reading these; must mean I’m doing something right!

Warnings: Fluff!

Word Count: 3, 713

Harry Potter Masterlist| Masterlist of all Masterlists| Your Friendship (previous preference)

Tag lists requests for these are OPEN! -M

Harry: “So, what’s going on with you and Harry?” Hermione had asked you out of the blue when you were sitting with her during lunch. “What do you mean? We’re friends, just like you and I are,” you try to defend but she was too smart for her own good. “Oh, come on, (y/n), I see when you two sneak off and spend time together and I see the way he pays you just a little more attention in our training for the Battle,” she says, giving your shoulder a bump. “Look, I really like Harry, I do, but I don’t think he necessarily has time for, a relationship,” you say, looking down to the food that sat before you. “Does he know all this? I’m sure if you just talk to him,” Hermione starts but you cut her off. “I don’t think it’s going to happen ‘Mione, and I have to accept that,” you shrug, trying to play off your disappointment as best as possible. You had thought that Harry took an interest in you too, but it’s been years since you two first met and became friends. You’ve tried dropping hints but it wasn’t going anywhere more than friendship. After you finished your food and drank the last bit of your coffee, you grabbed your bag that held all your books for your classes and flung it over your shoulder, leaving the Great Hall. Keeping to yourself as you maneuver to your first class, you almost didn’t notice the feeling of someone grabbing your arm and pulling you to the side, away from the crowd of students. “(Y/N),” a voice spoke, causing you to look over and saw Harry was the culprit. “Harry, I-I need to get to class,” you say, trying to break free from his grasp. “Wait, I wanted to talk to you, please don’t go,” he pleads with you, his eyes looking much larger behind the lenses of his glasses. “What is it?” You ask, folding your arms across your chest, waiting for his explanation. “Well, I uh, was wondering if you, maybe wanted to go with me into Hogsmeade this weekend? They’re having a festival of reenactments of famous battles in the wizarding world, it’s supposed to be a lot of fun if you want to join me,” he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, not bothering to look up at him until you spoke up. “You mean, like a date?” “Um, yeah, yeah like a date,” he confirms your suspicion and you answer him by placing a soft kiss on his cheek. “I would love to.”

Draco: With all the time you two spent together, you had become the most important person in his life and he wanted to make sure you knew that. Never being good with his feelings, he had a difficult time trying to put into words how he felt about you, so he decided to try another approach. It started one day when you two were supposed to meet in the library to go over some study material for an upcoming test in Transfiguration. You found the table you two normally occupied and saw he wasn’t there yet, so you took your usual seat and took out your books and your parchment and quill to start writing but something caught your attention. Across the table where he usually sat, there was a folded-up piece of parchment with your name written across it. Wondering how you managed to miss it when you sat down, you reached for it and began unfolding it. “My dearest (y/n), I thought you looked beautiful today and that you should know that, -DM.” You felt your heart race as you read the words sprawled out across the paper a few times. When he came to your table, you tried to ask him about it but he said he didn’t know what you were talking about, but the wink he sent you, told you he was playing a little game. The next note came when you were in your dorm room, getting ready for the day. “Good morning beautiful, I wanted to tell you that your smile lights up every room you walk into. I’ll see you soon, -DM.” You smiled as you folded up the note and placed it in the pages of one of your books. As you sat in your seat for the first class of the day, Draco was sitting beside you and took notice of the note sticking out of your book, but he didn’t acknowledge it. The third note came when you were upset over an argument you had with your parents. They were disappointed in your grades at Hogwarts and no matter how hard you told them you worked; they wouldn’t accept it. “(Y/N), I am so sorry you had an argument with your parents but I want you to know, I am so proud of you, -DM.” That only made you cry but these were tears of happiness because at least someone was proud of you. The final note came when it was late and you were close to going to sleep for the night. It sat on your pillow and you had wondered how he managed to put it there, but you still went with his game. “Before you go to sleep tonight my love, I would like to request your company at the top of the Astronomy Tower, where I have a very important question to ask you, -DM.” Grabbing your house robe to guard your body against the cold, you take the note and hurry out to the common room, waiting a few minutes to be clear of any prefects. At the all-clear, you sneak out of the common room and outside to the path that leads up to the Astronomy Tower. It was a rather long walk up to the top but Draco was worth it to you. At the top, you looked around for the platinum-haired boy, soon coming up unsuccessful. Just when you were going to give up, you felt a presence behind you and a hand grabbing yours. You turn and see Draco, smiling softly at you. “I take it as you got my note?” He jokes. “Yeah, all of them actually,” you chuckle at how adorable his method of getting your attention was. “Why didn’t you just talk to me? What changed?” You wondered because you thought you could talk to him about anything. “Well, something did change,” he said, bringing you over to sit on a fallen marble slab. “Did I do something wrong?” You worried but he was quick to correct you. “No, no, quite the opposite. I uh, have been thinking about you differently and, I was wondering if you would like to come with me to a party my parents are throwing? I know, it’s not really the most romantic date but I would really like it if you came with me and met my parents,” he rambled on a bit but you smiled at him anyway. “Of course, I’ll go with you, Draco,” you say, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Ron: Putting the sweater he got you on over your clothes, you spritzed some perfume over top and made your way down to the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning. You wanted to show off your new sweater and make sure Ron knew how much it meant to you. Sitting at the Gryffindor table with Harry and Hermione where they had invited you to join them for breakfast, Hermione was the first to notice the new sweater. “Wow, (y/n) where did you get that sweater? It’s so pretty!” She exclaims, rubbing a piece of the fabric between her fingers. “Someone very special got it for me,” you smile, thinking of when Ron must’ve picked it out. “Wait a minute, I recognize that sweater,” Harry says. “You do?” Hermione asks, as both your attention went to the legacy student. “Yeah, I was walking around Diagon Alley with Ron last week, I needed to get my wand repaired, and he saw that sweater in a shop window. He said he needed to go in and buy it for someone,” the two looked back to you, a deep blush came out on your cheeks. “He bought that for you?” Hermione asked, just as Ron walked into the Hall. When he got close enough to your table, you jump up and rush over to him. “Ron!” You yell, leaping into a hug, the red-head caught you in his arms but fell back due to the force. All the students closest to where you had attacked Ron, peered around one another to see what all the commotion was. “Bloody hell, (Y/N) what was that for?” Ron asked, trying to get air back into his lungs that were knocked out by you. “As a thank you, for getting me this sweater. I can’t believe you remember me telling you about it; that was ages ago!” You say, wiping any new dirt particles off your sweater. “Oh, well, um, yeah, I thought, you’d like it,” He says, his whole attitude changes when you brought up the sweater. “I love it,” you say, hugging him and knocking him over again. “Merlin, (y/n) you gotta stop knocking me over!” Ron says, laughing more than being upset. You looked down at the ginger who was pinned underneath you, smiling at how cute he looked all flustered by your actions. “Well, you need to stop being so amazing,” you say, moving to the side to let him up. “Um, I’m not, I just…” he trails off, suddenly avoiding your gaze. “You just, what?” You ask, encouraging him to continue. “I really like you and wanted to do something special to show you how I felt and I didn’t know what to do at first but I remember you saying you liked this sweater and it has your house crest on it so I got it for you.” He said, all in one, long breath, but it was exactly you needed to hear. You smile wide at him before saying, “You, Ronald Weasley, are incredible. And I like you too,” “Then will you go out with me?” “Yes!”

Cedric: The second task in the Tournament, was way more intense than the first. Each of the champions had something that was taken from them and dropped at the bottom of a lake, the object that belonged to each champion were people and one of those people happened to be you. You heard something about it happening but you refused to believe it until you were offered to be dropped off at the lake. It sounded absurd to you but with everything you had been feeling lately, you agreed to be used for the task, under one condition. You were to be retrieved by Cedric because you had grown closest to him, in the weeks leading up to the next task. In that time, your feelings for him only grew but with all the girls that would surround him with the press and the excitement of the Tournament, you felt like he didn’t really care about you anymore. Your friendship was short-lived but you figured you’d throw in one last-ditch effort to try and get his attention. On the morning of the task, you were put into a deep sleep and tied up to be dropped in the lake with the other important people to the champions. You were the only one who had given consent, everyone else was tricked, but you were desperate. When the second task began, Cedric was quick to jump in the water and search for whatever belonged to him. It took a lot of time to figure out what was taken from him but when he did, he grew frantic to save it. He never expected anyone that he knew to be at the bottom of that lake but he saw the other champions’ friends and then he saw who was there for him; you. Immediately as he spotted you, he swam over to your sleeping form and took you insight, a tear falling from his face and into the water surrounding him before he quickly got to work. You were tied up rather tightly and he became frustrated when he wasn’t easily able to free you. What you hadn’t realized was how much you had meant to him so seeing you tied up and waiting for his rescue, broke his heart. He had to save you and if it meant coming in last, he didn’t care. After what seemed like an eternity and after several fights with magical creatures, he was able to free you. As your limp body began falling to the bottom of the lake, he wrapped his arms around you as tight as possible and he swam back to the surface. You were still unconscious until he laid you out on the dock, surrounded by everyone else. “Please, don’t leave me,” he whispered in your ear, as he wiped away the wet hair from your face. Suddenly, a breath came into your lungs, you gasped and coughed up some of the lake water that had settled in your body. “Hey, hey, you’re okay, I got you,” he spoke when he saw you were still alive. Several towels were wrapped around you before he hugged you close to him. “Cedric? What happened?” You ask but he shook his head. “I’ll tell you all about it later, right now, let’s get you inside and warm,” he said, pressing a kiss on your forehead and helping you to your feet, as he led you back to the Hufflepuff common room.

Neville: “Oh my gosh, Neville is so cute!” “I know, have you seen the way he handles himself now? Like he’s becoming a really great wizard!” “Right? Remember how bad he used to be? What a joke, but now look at him!” A bunch of girls was talking about your best friend around you and it annoyed you. You curtly push yourself away from the table you were sitting at and stormed off, drawing all eyes on you. It was time for another meeting with the newly forming Dumbledore’s Army, where you really got to see Neville shine. He was able to keep up with all the spells that Harry was training everyone in and he even started helping others with their spells. It was a difficult task, creating a team of wizards to defend Dumbledore and his place as headmaster of Hogwarts but it needed to be done and you were glad to have been apart of it. “Great guys, you’re looking really good!” Harry commented on the efforts of the entire group. When Harry called the end of training for the day, you walked over to Neville to meet up with him for practice sessions outside the rest of the group. “Hey,” he said when you walked up to him. “Hi,” you answer, smiling up at the taller boy. “You ready?” He asks, walking towards the courtyard where you and he had your first flying lesson, some four years ago. This became the place you two spent a lot of time together, just talking or practicing spells, but this time was going to be different. When you jumped up to sit on the brick wall that set along the border of the field, Neville grew quiet, just keeping his attention on you and making some comments as you spoke about your day or what you were struggling in with your classes. You hadn’t noticed his retrieval until you finally paused to catch your breath. “Why are you so quiet?” You ask, soon growing concerned about your friend. “I’m just thinking,” he says, suddenly jumping down from where he sat beside you, and walking away from you, but not too far away. “What are you thinking about?” You question still focused on him. “About you, or us, rather,” You were a bit surprised by his comment; was he unhappy with your friendship. “I want to be more than friends, (y/n),” he spoke, turning back to look at you, almost as if he read the thoughts in your mind. Where was this confidence coming from, you wondered? But you smiled as he walked closer to you, your heart racing in your chest. “Well good, because I always thought of you as more than a friend,” you said, as he stood right in front of you now. “So, does that mean you’ll let me take you out on a date?” He asked, one eyebrow raised in suspense. “Oh, I think it’d be cruel if we didn’t.”

Fred: “So you mean to tell me George was right? Fred does like me?” You ask Ginny after she explained all that Fred had said he liked about you. “Yep, he told our Mom about it when she caught him staring at you when you left the other night,” Ginny grinned. “But the question is (y/n) do you like him? I mean, you two would make a rather cute couple,” Ginny gushed cause a blush to form on your cheeks. “Well, I wouldn’t say no if he asked me on a date but he hasn’t done that yet so,” you trail off, Ginny kept a knowing look on her face. “Alright everyone, come and get it, dinner is ready!” Molly yelled from the kitchen, just as the sound of several footsteps were pounding on the ceiling above you, a bit of rubble from the foundation falling around you. You got up and went to meet the rest of the family in the dining room but ran into a certain red-headed boy who was too close to where you just sat, talking to the only female Weasley child in the house. “Fred! Were you listening in on our conversation, about you?!” Ginny exclaimed, catching her older brother as he stood from his crouched position behind one of the chairs. “Maybe,” he said, giving a side smirk your way. “Ugh, nothing in this house is private!” You yell in frustration and embarrassment, storming out of the small house. “Wait, (y/n),” Ginny called after you but it did no good. “I’m the one who upset her, I should go,” Fred said, nodding to his mother as she had set the last plate of food on the table. You were grateful for where the Weasley house sat, in the middle of a field of tall stocks of some form of vegetation, a perfect hiding place. You distanced yourself as far from the house as possible and thought you were alone, that was until you heard someone sit beside you by the pond in the field. “What do you want, Fred?” You ask, not looking to the boy beside you. “I’m sorry for eavesdropping but I wanted to hear how you felt about me,” he spoke softly, all joking left aside. “Then why didn’t you just ask?” “I don’t know, I thought you wouldn’t like me back so I kept to the side just in case you didn’t like me. Easier to take the rejection if you didn’t see me,” he admitted. “Well, now that you know that I like you too, what are you going to do about it?” “I guess the only thing I should do is ask you on a date,” he says, looking to you. “It’s about time, Weasley,” you say, offering him a smile.

George: As the months went by with the not-so-subtle touching, and nothing coming from the Weasley twin, you decided to confront him about the matter. “Hey George, can I talk to you a second?” You ask, drawing his attention away from the rest of his family as you sat around a table, enjoying some butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. “Sure, (y/n),” he says, looking to his twin who only nodded his approval, before joining you out front of the establishment. “So, what’s on your mind, (y/n)?” George asked, sitting beside you on a bench, as you took in all the people bustling around Hogsmeade. “Well, I’ve been noticing you’ve been acting differently around me and I wanted to know why,” you look to the boy sat beside you, as he grew stiff and not speaking a word. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tried but you knew when he was bullshitting you. “Oh, cut the crap, Weasley, I know you better than that. Why are you treating me differently? You're holding my hand longer than normal, brushing shoulders with me, staring at me, but you’re not saying anything? Do you like me or something? Just tell me what’s going on!” You yell, standing from the bench and glaring at the ginger as he sat still. “Yes,” he simply spoke. “What?” You ask, making sure you heard him correctly. “Yes (y/n) I like you, I really like you in fact. That’s why I’ve been trying to drop hints that I’m into you but every time you look at me with those big (y/e/c) eyes, I get too nervous and chicken out. I’ve been wanting to ask you on a date for a long time but then Fred teases me about it and Ron or Percy will join in and I just, lose all confidence in myself,” he finally admits, keeping his head down in shame. Your heart swells at his confession so you do the only thing you could think of. Sitting beside him again, you move close to him and wrap your arms around his middle, as one of his wraps around your shoulder, keeping you close to him. “For the record, I really like you too, and I don’t think you should let your brothers scare you off. They’re obviously just jealous that I’m into you and not them,” you comment, grabbing his hand and linking your fingers with his. He chuckles at your last comment and he places a kiss on your head. “So, does this mean you’ll let me take you out? Show off that you chose me and not any of my brothers?” He says, pulling away from your embrace but still holding your hand. “Oh, absolutely. I want to rub our relationship in their faces so much,” you admit, joining in on his laughter.

Tag List: @tloveswriting @to-my-beloved-fandoms-2 @thinkinghardhardlythinking @angeredcrow @lunalovecroft @angelinathebook

#harry potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter preferences #pottah #potterhead #ron weasley #draco malfoy #neville longbottom #fred weasley #george weasley

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haiky-u-lously · 4 years

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King Kuroo and the Red Knights (9)

Summary:

A Camelot AU where King Arthur is Kuroo Tetsuro, and the Knights of the Roundtable of characters from seasons 1-4 of the HQ anime. Eventual Kuroo X Reader.

Themes:

Action/fighting/killing, dead bodies, Fluff, Angst, Humor, Eventual Romance

Warnings:

Mentions of stalking and abuse of power, Language, Angst in feelings, Gore and fighting, mention of explosion, mention of seeing dead bodies

Word Count:

For Chapter: ~2800words

Questions/Comments/Concerns/Ideas welcome as always.

-Admin Red

Hi everyone! First, I’d like to half-apologize for my sudden disappearance from the weekly updates. I say half-apologize because I do feel bad about it, but the first week was supposed to be a break because I’ve had some physical issues come up and it really really hurts to type so I was trying to take a week away from overly stressing my fingers and putting them through more than necessary pain. So like, it was going to be fully justified even though I did feel bad.

But, after that first weekend without an update I got 7 anon and 2 not-anon asks and 2 direct messages all from individuals basically being hate messages. Regarding how I must be lazy for not keeping my posting up after only two weeks, regarding how the story is crap and they were happy I wasn’t flooding the tags with the b*s anymore. And for how few positive responses I have received regarding the story as a whole after 2 months of posting each week to receive so much after only 1.5 weeks...it was pretty much a punch to the gut.

I realize I am not a top writing for the HQ fandom, I realize that only like...maybe...10 people actually read this story each week, and I am truly grateful to everyone who does. But like that fact that I got so many rude messages as opposed to nice ones really tore me up, especially since in the absence (until yesterday) I hadn’t received any word that anyone was still enjoying the work.

This is why I would like to once again thank the anon who messaged me yesterday. As I said, the kindness you wrote to me made me cry because I’d been so down about this piece. And, I am really glad this work brought you any joy that it did, I hope it continues to do so.

Finally, I have a doctors appointment to get my hands checked out. After basically a month of being in pain with them hopefully something will come of it and I can get back to writing for this work. For now though, here is chapter 9. I hope those following for this piece enjoy it, and honestly if you only wish to send hate please keep it to yourself. Constructive criticism is fine, welcome even (as proven by the fact that I owned up to being wrong about certain characters being third years), but hate messages...those are just pointless.

I hope you like this next installment. Enjoy!

–Admin Red

Chapter 9: Morning of the Tournament

It had been a long few days as the castle staff, knights, and royals of Camelot prepared for the tournament they’d decided to hold. But everyone was in high spirits at breakfast that morning, even Suga and you who’d had a few close calls with your new hall-mate liking to barge in without so much as knocking to indicate his approach.

After the third scare of him walking in while you were eating, you’d started to use your magic to lock the door whenever your helmet was off.

“I still can’t believe how quickly he accepted that you just had (h/l), (h/c) hair when he saw the back of your head,” Suga commented biting into his eggs from his breakfast plate.

You laughed a bit before responding, finishing off your own mouthful of food. “Yea, he is very friendly though. I appreciate how true his comment was. Saying this was the most private hall of the castle? We only come across him regularly, it is pretty nice to be afforded the level of privacy I wanted. Even if there were a few mistakes at the beginning.” You smiled as you went in for more food.

Suga had finished clearing his plate before mouthing to you that he agreed with your assessment.

*knock knock*

When you heard the knocking from your door, rather than the whines of a knight who felt excluded from the so-called party, you knew it was someone other than the King’s right-hand man at your door. Quickly you put your helmet on, still hiding your true identity and removed your magic hold on the door so Suga could open it.

“Excuse me,” Futakuchi called upon entering your chambers. “Ah so you are both here, great! Makes this less work for me then.”

Suga laughed on both of your behalves at the attendant’s joke, having grown accustomed to his sense of humor as it was similar to your own.

“The King has asked me to tell you the order of today’s fights.” He said, pulling a piece of parchment from behind his back with a wide grin.

Suga’s eyes lit up as Futakuchi spoke, and you knew your friend was looking forward to this show of strength as much as any of the men of Camelot, and you smiled proudly behind your face-wear.

When a full minute passed without a word from the magician, Suga threw his hands out in exasperation, “Well then, what is it?”

“Oh, right!” The brunet fumbled the paper before moving to place it on your dining table to review with your pair. “So the first battle will be the most entertaining as the side by side matches should be--!”

His explanation was cut off by the ringing of bells from the courtyard.

“Another attack?” Suga questioned, not knowing the differences in Camelot’s alarm system since you’d heard it less than a handful of times.

Futakuchi shook his head, “No, it means a visitor. But I have no clue who could be approaching today of all days. Come, you should see who it is with me.”

Your group made it down to the front square of the Castle, only to watch as all of the knight’s you’d slowly begun to know over the course of the week run up to a pair of men riding in on horseback!

“You’ve made it!”

“What took you two so long?”

“Where have you been, idiots? The guests of honor arrived a week before you!”

“With Asahi and Ushijima here we are in for a real tournament!”

“Grand welcome for two of Camelot’s strongest! Welcome back to the castle latecomers.”

Watching the group, you realized the men were as close to one another as Suga and you were with your own band of Knights. You were grateful for the reminder of home, even if it made you miss your friends a bit more.

“Ah, so they really did show up today.” You heard from beside you and turned to face the speaker, “Pardon their inept ability to make proper introductions, Red Knight. The two newcomers are the pair I told you about before. Since they have arrived, I may make them participate in the tournament as punishment for being so late.”

You nodded to the King, indicating you’d heard him before stepping back to let him address his men from a better position atop the stairs.

“Thank you,” He smiled fondly before taking your prior position and screaming out to the men below him, “Ushijima! Asahi! Men!” The knights filed up at the base of the staircase, with the two new arrivals front and center. “Why are you so late?”

“Late?” Asahi asked, “You know, you all keep saying we are late, but we just got these summons a few days ago.”

Ushijima just shrugged and looked bored, “If we are supposedly late, we can just go back to where we were.”

The men around the pair started shouting obscenities at their friends’ casualness. You noted the joking manner between the group of twelve and realized that this kingdom truly did feel like they were in a time of peacefulness after the decades of darkness that befell them.

Looking to Suga, you noticed his eyes trained on the men below, joking and horseplaying as he had with his own companions, and you made a note to show how grateful you were to him once more. He’d left his home and friends to stay beside you, the least you could do is remind him how appreciative you were.

“--wever, the matter at fact is that our guests arrived a week before you. To top that, they fought on our side when the castle was attacked without all her guards in place. So I’ve decided you will join our tournament today, and I will not accept any excuses of being tired from your journey.” The King smiled down to his men. The pair grumbled about how unfair a punishment was being forced on them, the other men just showed excitement at the prospect of their friends joining.

“Yes! Yes! Yes! I want to fight Ushi!”

“Hells ya! Make them fight for their dinner while we’re at it!”

“I wouldn’t mind kicking some sense into the glass hearted giant myself!”

“Woaho! Fight time, let’s go!!”

Even the few not shouting out in pure joy had grins on their faces as they looked to and nodded at one another, all of them ready for what they now perceived to be a perfect tournament.

Waving your hand, you caught Suga’s attention, and holding your fingers up to make a triangle, you told him to ask about the tournament set up.

“Excuse us, King Kuroo.” He approached the royal, “This will probably change your line-up for the tournament?”

“You’re right! Futakuchi!” He yelled, to get the attendant’s attention away from joking around with the men below. “Come, we have to rearrange some things.” After his announcement, the King reentered the castle.

As he passed Futakuchi slowed to ask Suga a question, “How against are you showcasing your magic?”

Suga looked to you for your decision. Since showing magic would be the first test against the King’s ability to truly reconnect with the Order you decided it would be a fine move.

You shrugged your shoulders to indicate you didn’t care either way, leaving it to Suga’s discretion since he too knew of the testing methods.

“If I fight another magician, I don’t mind.” He answered positively.

Futakuchi’s grin overtook his features as he bobbed his head before following after his king.

“You sure like them, don’t you?” You whisper asked your friend.

“Like you don’t?” He laughed back. “If it goes well, perhaps we really can trust this new King and then you can focus on your other mission.”

Behind your shielded mask, you rolled your eyes and stuck out your tongue before answering, “Perhaps you can shut up because no one asked you about that.”

He laughed at your ire, but brought it down to nothing more than a smile seeing the knights climbing the stairs.

“Oh let me introduce you!” Bokuto yelled excitedly seeing your pair atop the staircase. “Ushijima, Asahi, these are the Red Knight representatives. This is Sugawara, the Knight’s squire, and that...well, we just call him the Red Knight, I’ve seemed to have forgotten his name.” The Knight ended up drawing out his introduction as he racked his brain trying to recall it.

“Oh the Red Knight doesn’t mind, we’ve been doing it all week.” Terushima countered, defending his friend’s forgetfulness, and you stifled a laugh as you imagined it was because he too forgot the name you’d chosen to use.

“Wait, you’re Sugawara? From the Order?” A longer haired male asked, stepping from behind the other men to look at your friend closely. After what you guessed was further inspection he grabbed your companion in a tight embrace, “It’s been years! How are you old friend?!” The male shouted in his ears.

You’d moved to unsheath your sword, only to pause at Suga raising his hand towards you.

“It’s okay Yomimasu, I actually think I remember this man.” He finally said once released from the embrace. The taller male backed up and sheepishly scratched at the stubble of hair growing against his jawline. Suga did his own visual study before grinning from ear to ear and giving the man his own version of a soul crushing bear-hug. “Azumane, goor sir. It’s been a long while. Glad to see you’re still alive!”

Hearing the name Suga called, memories flooded your mind of Suga’s friend from the summer years back. A traveling group stayed in a town near your own and the pair met in the forest when Suga was searching for you. After enticing the over-grown child’s help, Suga made fast friends with the boy. Sneaking off himself to go teach him some sword fighting skills and some of the things you’d taught him as well.

“Wait!” Semi interrupted your thoughts and the pair’s reunion. “You two know each other?”

Suga nodded, and Asahi moved to explain, “I stayed a summer nearby to where Suga lived when I was a child. He was the one who taught me to use swords, and his cousin taught us both how to write. Thought I’d never see them again, honestly. What are you doing in Camelot?”

Being questioned, Suga fell back into his more reserved mannerisms, “Of course, I am here as escort to the Red Knight as the Order has sent us to determine if Camelot is worthy of being considered an ally once more.”

The official reason for your visit.

It still angered you that it was your only excuse, that you weren’t meant to share your other reasons. But things were the way they were, and thus you stayed silent, watching the encounter from the sidelines.

“What are you doing as a knight of Camelot? I thought only those in some roundabout way related to the King’s lineage were accepted as knights?” Suga questioned.

“Oh, Kuroo did away with that rule long before he even became King. Quoting about how men should be fighter’s by their merit not their bloodlines.” Yamagata informed your pair.

Aone got a disgusted look on his face that made you want to laugh out, but you swallowed the feeling, he asked, “Did you think we were all somehow related?”

Suga glanced at you, and you did nothing to indicate your own thoughts of the matter, he sighed in defeat and answered, “Well not recently, but yes I felt your family trees must have connected somewhere down the line to the King’s.”

The group of men before him burst into fits of laughter as they regarded the idea and its apparent absurdity.

“What of your cousin? How does the Princess fair?” Asahi questioned, changing topics to try and save his friend some embarrassment.

“Cousin?” Daichi guffawed.

“Princess?” Atsumu and Osamu blurted out simultaneously.

Your body went stiff at Asahi’s question and you had to take a few deep breaths to calm yourself and tell your mind that they weren’t actually calling to you.

Suga grinned as if he didn’t have a care in the world as he answered his old friend’s question, “She’s happier than she’s ever been, last time I saw her.”

He turned to reenter the castle, probably to return to your room, but you weren’t sure. You were going to follow him but stopped dead in your tracks as Bokuto, Satori, Terushima and Atsumu all followed after him, asking so many questions over one another even you couldn’t make any of them out.

“So who are you?” A tall man, with short dark hair turned to you. He felt like he’d probably be more intimidating than Aone, but as you were currently sporting a full suit of armor, and held a secret that none in Camelot, save your own friend, knew, you didn’t actually feel frightened.

Daichi and Iwaizumi both stepped between your figure and the large knight, hands up defensively.

“Actually, Ushijima, while in uniform the Knight cannot speak. It’s a little challenging, but we’ve managed pretty well this past week. It’s easier to ask simple questions.” Daichi informed, and you appreciated the complete switch in the knight’s attitudes since you’d first arrived.

Iwaizumi nodded, “The letter you received should have detailed the purpose of their visit, Futa did a great job explaining everything in ours at least. We did a shite job of first impressions the night they arrived and yet he still helped us defend Camlot’s castle. The Red Knight is good people, trust us on that in the very least.”

It amazed you how much the male reminded you of your old childhood acquaintance. You wished you’d know the boy better to tell if he was the same man for sure, but alas, only Oikawa would have known...And, it’d been years since you’d seen him either. You felt the tear roll down your cheek before realizing you’d started to cry at the recollection. Closing your eyes you let your mind settle on nothingness to rid it of the negative memories regarding your ex-friend.

“Then perhaps you can answer simple yes or no questions?” The giant, presumably Ushijima questioned you. Upon seeing you nod, he hummed before continuing, “Are you really only here to see if Camelot can reconnect with your Order?”

While you knew how Suga would want you to respond, you also knew it wouldn’t be truthful. It’d been a long week developing trust with the members of Camelot’s court, and you the only way to keep that streak would be to stay honest. You shook your head in the negative.

Ignoring the shocked exclamations of the men around him, your interrogator continued. “Do you wish to bring Camelot or Kuroo harm?”

You stood at attention and shook your head once more, expressing clear displeasure at the mere idea.

The male hummed before bowing out of his inquisition, “I see. I look forward to getting to know you then.”

Watching him move inside the castle, you stayed where you were in anticipation of the other’s questions to follow your first answer.

“Aye, you weren’t being serious in having another motive, were you?” Osamu questioned, looking at you with disbelief dancing in his eyes.

You just bowed your head in apology.

“Does Sugawara know of your other mission?” Daichi questioned further.

You thought for a moment before rocking your hand side-to-side in front of you, telling the knights he kind of knew a bit about it, but entirely.

Semi shook his head and stepped forward, a frown clear on his face as he tried to find your eyes hidden in the shadows of your helmet, “Have you deceived us?”

His voice sounded so angry, almost threateningly so, but you knew you couldn’t answer that question without Suga by your side to explain. Thankfully you didn’t have to.

“Oi!” King Kuroo yelled from one of the windows overlooking the front gate. “Get to the main hall for review of the schedule!”

“In a minute!” Semi yelled back, still looking you up and down distrustingly.

Kuroo didn’t like this attitude in his knight’s defiance and yelled back, “Now!” Then laughed as he added, “Or no supper for any of the knights, Semi!”

The silver haired male tsk’d in annoyance before rushing inside.

“We trust you,” A voice called your attention from watching the others follow after him. “Not sure why it’s such a strong trust, but we do.” Aone looked at you directly, unbeknownst to him catching your eyes’ gaze with ease. “Don’t betray us.”

What could you do but bow in a show of understanding and acceptance. You really didn’t wish to betray them, and should they discover your secret in a manner not befitting your true identity, then the power will lie with them to do with you as they please.

_______________________________________________

Table of contents:

Chapter 8 Chapter 10

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takingcourage · 4 years

Text

A Bushel and a Peck

Pairing: Jaime x MC

Word Count: 1,850

Summary: After receiving payment for a job, Jaime and Arden get a little more than they’ve bargained for.

Note: Thanks, as always, to @krishu213�� for her request of “The smell of nutmeg and cloves around every corner” for Jaime and Arden. The prompts you choose are always so much fun! : )

Fiddling with the drawstring on her jacket, Arden raised her eyes toward the seasonal menu. It was all for show -- she’d known exactly what she was getting before she’d set foot in the shop -- but Friday afternoons always left her a little antsy and eager for home. As the woman in front of her stepped aside to wait for her drink, Arden exchanged smiles with the barista behind the counter.

“The usual?”

“Please. Thanks, Stephanie.”

“Extra shot today?”

Arden’s lips pursed with momentary indecision. “Sure -- why not?”

“It’ll be out shortly.”

After completing her transaction at the register, Arden migrated toward the other end of the counter. A subtle vibration came from the front pocket of her bag, and she quickly withdrew her phone.

Any plans for the weekend?

She smiled instinctively at Jaime’s text. Did you have something in mind? My schedule is surprisingly flexible.

Good to know.

Her brow was still crinkled at the cryptic text when she went forward to retrieve her drink, and things only grew stranger as she made her way back out of the shop and into her vehicle. If she’d been in a more present state of mind, she would have noticed the hints of nutmeg and vanilla that wafted up from the tiny hole in the lid when she took her first blissful sip. As it was, her thoughts were too trained on the mysterious message from her husband.

Care to share?

I’ve got a project in mind for tomorrow.

She swallowed a bit too much with her next sip. Had she been a less-experienced drinker, it might have burned on the way down, but she’d been immune to the heat for years. When her phone remained still, she settled back against the seat, slotted the keys into the ignition, and made her way toward home.

Jaime was waiting for her in the kitchen, his hand slicing the air as he beckoned her in to join him. “You know those repairs I was doing for Mrs. Ellis this week?”

Arden nodded and kicked her shoes into the corner of the dining room.

“She couldn’t stand not being able to pay me for them, so she found another method of compensation.”

That method became abundantly clear as Arden tiptoed onto the tile. From wall to stove, their counter was covered with heaping paper bags. “She gave you a kitchenful of apples?”

“Two bushels,” he confirmed.

She crossed to the nearest bag, hooking the side with an inquisitive finger. “Does she think we’re feeding the whole city? What on earth are we going to do with two bushels of apples?”

“I misspoke earlier -- it’s not actually quite that many. I did manage to give a couple dozen away...”

“We’re two people, Jaime!” she interjected, turning away from the counter to face him. “I don’t think it’s possible for us to eat this many apples if we tried.”

Jaime rubbed the furrow from her brow with a gentle thumb, then braced a hand on each shoulder. “That’s why I thought we could make a challenge out of it: we’ll see how many things we can make with them in a weekend. Apple butter alone will get us through at least a quarter of them, and we can make applesauce and pie filling too.”

At the glimpse of his earnest brown eyes, the hilarity of the situation somehow caught up to her in a breathless laugh. “Jaime, this is ridiculous. We can find people to give them to --”

“Or,” he countered, pausing for a moment in apology for cutting her off. “Or we can make them into something special before we give them away. But I need you with me on this. I don’t know if I can get through them all on my own.”

It was a hollow statement; Jaime was eminently capable of getting through anything he set his mind to, but she wasn’t going to leave him to drown in apples on his own.

“We need a game plan,” she replied, words already a little distant as she circled the room in search of a pad of paper. Finding an unopened envelope on the table, she began making a list. “If you find the recipes you want, I’ll write down the ingredients we need. We can make a quick run to the grocery store, then pick something up for dinner.”

Chinese.

Arden chuckled at the silent interjection. “...then pick up Chinese for dinner. Are you trying to appease me for putting up with you?”

“Nope.” This time, his words were audible. “I’m just taking care of my wife.”

By the end of the evening, they’d accounted for every single apple. Double checking the recipes over cartons of takeout, the two of them shared more than a handful of giggles over the sheer absurdity of the situation.

“What have we gotten ourselves into?”

-----

By noon on Saturday, they'd enlisted her father’s help with peeling and slicing -- a process that would have been much faster if the Harry hadn't insisted on tossing pieces of discarded peel to the floor for Opie instead of into the bag for composting. Between the dog's valiant attempts to catch them and Jinx's determination to steal them from under his nose, the whole scene became very distracting.

Even so, there was no denying that his presence made the process go faster. Their last batch of applesauce was finished by 3:00, followed by apple butter some hours later. When the time came to break for dinner, they'd lined their counter with several jars to give away.

"Just pies left to go," Jaime noted, consulting their list from the night before as Arden and Harry cleared dishes from the dining table.

"I think that’s my cue to head on home. I don’t know the first thing about pies, except that I love eating them.”

Arden resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she loaded their plates into the dishwasher.

“We’ll bring one over tomorrow,” Jaime promised.

Offering a half-hearted farewell over her shoulder, Arden’s eyes glazed as they fell back onto the final bag on the table. The pads of her fingers felt swollen from the repetitive motion of the knife, and she’d started to worry that no amount of handwashing would ever remove the sense of stickiness from her wrinkled palms. Even after the brief time away, there was a phantom tremor between her thumb and pointer finger.

“I can finish these up tomorrow.” Jaime sank into the chair across from her, his own hand strong and steady as he reached for her leg under the kitchen table. “I really appreciate all of your help today. I'm glad we did this.”

Eyes darting upward, she caught the smile she’d heard in his voice. His warm eyes sparked golden when she met his gaze. “I might swear off apples for the foreseeable future, but this has been fun.” With renewed vigor, she glanced back to the bag beside her. “And I’m not leaving you to do these on your own. We said we’d finish these tonight, and that’s what I intend to do.”

He squeezed her knee, chuckling beneath his breath.

“Stop!” she urged with an insistent whisper. At his raised brow, she clarified. “You’re thinking about calling me stubborn again -- I know you are.”

Jaime rose and motioned for Arden to vacate her chair as well. “We can finish tonight, but I want to switch out. I’ll take care of the peeling and slicing. You can measure out the dry ingredients.”

“Deal.”

Tucking her hair behind both ears, she set to work gathering ingredients and whatever clean utensils she could find. Most of their small stash of measuring cups and spoons had been used for previous recipes, and improvising was easier than washing what was dirty.

“Are you using the 1/3 cup?”

Flicking the remaining crystals into the mixing bowl, she flashed the tin cup for his inspection.

“To measure 16 cups of sugar?”

Flushing more from embarrassment than indignance, she scooted the 1/8 measuring teaspoon out of his sightline. He didn’t need to know her plan for the spices. “Don’t make me lose count!”

I could if I wanted to.

His thoughts cut in, and she very nearly lost track of the scooping despite herself. Offering what she hoped was a stern expression, she retrieved her phone and found a playlist of pop music that had fallen from the top 40 charts a decade before. As she finished preparing the ingredients, she couldn’t help giggling at the memories attached to many of them: trips to the pool in the summertime, dances at prom, basement jam sessions with their very short-lived band phase...

Jaime brought the bowl of apple slices to the counter, nudging her out of the way so that he could access the dry ingredients and the stovetop. She kept him company as he cooked and cooled, legs dangling from her seat beside the oven.

Though the raw materials were much different from his usual medium, there was the same undeniable magic in watching him bring them all together. Under Jaime’s care, what started as a few basic ingredients no longer felt ordinary or simple. True to his intentions, the unexpected gift had become something special.

Finally, the last bag had been sealed and the counters had been wiped down. With one concluding look around the room, Arden cranked the dial on the dishwasher and breathed a sigh of relief. Weariness grew with each step, culminating in a sense of fatigue that prompted her to collapse onto the mattress as soon as she’d made it to their upstairs bedroom.

“What a day.” Jaime stretched out beside her, sounding much more energetic than she felt.

Drowning a yawn, Arden tried to recover by taking a deep breath. Her nose shriveled as she realized her mistake. “Everything in our house smells like apples,” she moaned, tossing an arm over her face to try to block the scent. “I smell like apples.”

He burrowed closer on the bed. “You smell like autumn. I’m getting notes of nutmeg and cinnamon...maybe a hint of clove. I’ll be dreaming of applesauce and pies all night.” Jaime kissed her ear playfully, then pulled away with a soft laugh.

“Ughhh.” Showering would mean postponing bedtime, but she was starting to think that the delay would be worthwhile.

“You have a bit of peel in your hair. Here.” He brushed aside a few strands to locate the tiny sliver.

Prying open her eyes, she turned to face him. “And you’ve got cornstarch...or something... on your ear.” Arden swiped at it with a thumb, relieved when the substance came away easily.

He caught her elbow as she dropped her hand, his thumb etching gentle circles into her skin. “We make quite a pair, don’t we?”

Arden’s eyes flashed with amusement; she knew he’d intended sentimentality, but the setup was too much to resist. “I have to say, that’s not quite the fruit I was thinking of,” she countered, already bracing herself for the well-earned complaint she knew was coming.

With a well-deserved groan, Jaime leaned over to capture her lips in a sleepy kiss.

#playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #wishful thinking #jaime lewis #jaime x mc

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undercoveravenger · 4 years

Text

The Boy with the Pac-Man Tattoo

Original request: "Could i request a micheal x reader where Michael thinks the reader hates him because the reader is always glaring or staring at him but in actuality the readers just looking at him so he can draw Michael. One Day by accident the reader submits the drawing and it gets shown to a whole school and the reader gets embarrassed and runs off then Michael goes to comfort him."

A/N: To the anon who requested this: you are my absolute favorite! I love this boy so much, you have no idea. I don't care if my blog ever says requests are closed, I will always accept writing for him ❤

__________________________________________________________

"He's doing it again," Michael groused, keeping his head down as he pretended to work on an English assignment.

"I'm sure it's not that bad-" His best friend started as he perked up beside Michael, looking around less-than-subtly to catch the supposed culprit. "Yeah, no, he's definitely staring at you like he wants you dead," Jeremy amended unhelpfully.

Michael groaned quietly, glancing toward the right side of the room again to see if he was still being watched.

Yep, same (h/c) hair, same red leather-bound notebook, same (e/c) eyes narrowed at him intensely. Their eye contact broke when you looked back down at your notebook, scribbling away at it in the same way you always did.

"What do you think he's writing?" Jeremy's voice snapped him out of his reverie.

Michael shrugged, beginning to pack up his things as the bell rang. "Probably different ways to murder me and make it look like an accident," he replied, waiting for his friend before heading for the door. "You and I both know he's hated me since we met."

The brunet winced as he collided with someone just before he could leave the room, the force knocking both he and his attacker to the ground. "Shit, I'm so sorry man-" he started, eyes widening when they met those belonging to the boy who'd been glaring at him all year.

"Watch where you're going," you growled, leaning forward to snatch up your journal from where it'd fallen before scrambling to your feet and disappearing into the crowded hallway.

Michael sighed, picking up his spilled things (and his what was left of his dignity) and standing back up. "Told you he hated me," he said simply, looking back at Jeremy.

Jeremy shrugged, shifting his backpack straps higher up on his shoulders. "Yeah, can't argue with that, I guess."

He shook it off, leading the way toward his beat-up PT Cruiser, knowing that both of them really needed a weekend of video games to take their minds off of the hell that is Middle Borough High School.

---------

"I really don't see why you won't just tell him you like him," Jake called, not even looking up from his phone as he spoke. He didn't really need to, after all, the three of you had had this conversation a million times.

"Yeah!" Rich chimed in from his place next to Jake, "It's not like he'd reject you! I'm, like, ninety-nine percent sure that Mell's into the artsy type anyway."

You rolled your eyes, putting the last couple of touches on your latest drawing. "Not everyone has perfect track records of not getting rejected like you two do."

Rich rolled his eyes, setting aside the xBox controller and making his way over to you. "You see this?" He asked, pointing at your drawing, "For one thing, this is fucking amazing, for two, it's kind of pathetic."

"Hey!" you protested weakly.

Rich rolled his eyes, "You know I'm right; you can't talk to the guy, so instead you draw pictures of him."

You ducked your head, unable to argue.

"You do realize that if you actually talked to him-" Jake started, sitting up and twisting around to face you.

"You guys could be fucking by now!" Rich interrupted, waving his hands in the air over dramatically.

Jake blinked, staring at Rich for a second like he couldn't believe he'd just said that aloud. "I was going to say that maybe you could date him instead of just staring at him from a distance."

"Whatever," was all you could muster, visibly perking up when you heard the doorbell ring downstairs. "Would you look at that, an excuse to stop talking about this," you said sarcastically, turning on your heel and making your escape.

Rich waited until he heard your footsteps on the main floor before launching himself at your desk. He was methodical, pawing through drawers until he found what he was looking for.

"Rich, bro-" Jake was understandably confused, "What the hell are you doing?"

Rich turned around, your red leather-bound sketchbook in his hands. "I thought it was about time that they get their asses in gear."

"You know he doesn't like people touching that," Jake's eyes narrowed suspiciously, "What are you planning?"

The shorter male grinned, flipping through the book until he found one of his favorite portraits that you'd done of Michael before carefully extracting it from the binding. "Figured my buddy's art was good enough to be on display at the art show, don't you think?"

---------

The Middle Borough High School Art Show was one of the highlights of the school year for many students. It wasn't necessarily that they liked the art, but it was hard to dislike an event that resulted in classes getting postponed. Most of your peers ended up trying to sneak away with someone to hook up or sneak in a quick smoke behind the bleachers.

Normally you enjoyed the art show just as much as the next guy, but this year you were a little preoccupied. First a few of your drawings had gone missing, then Rich and Jake started acting strange. Hell, one of them had latched onto each of your arms and were steering you down the school hallways purposefully.

They finally began to slow down when the three of you approached the end of the hall near the auditorium where a large crowd was gathered around one of the art pieces. Your heart stopped in your chest when Rich shouldered his way closer to the front, dragging you with him, until you could actually see what everyone was looking at.

Michael couldn't believe his eyes. Sure, the artwork had been blown up to about ten times the original size, thus losing some of the details, but it was all there. The shading of the leaves and placement of the tree branches perfectly matched those of his memories, the sunny sky paling in comparison to the glow surrounding the focus point of the piece.

The massive drawing focused on a young man as he stood under a looming maple tree. He faced away from the viewer with one hand holding a phone, head tipped down toward it, and the other arm hanging casually at his side. Even he was turned the other way, he was still drawn in such a familiar way that it felt like it didn't matter if you couldn't see his face.

Somehow, the artist had managed to make him blend into his surroundings and stand apart from them at the same time. Worn red fabric came across looking well-loved and warm and individual pen strokes made the polar bear on the back of his hoodie look soft enough to touch, while the mountain range at the base still looked jagged and harsh.

His hair looked wind-tousled and his headphones looked like they actually held weight where they were tucked over his ears. His skin was exactly the shade it was in real life, down to the way the light brushed over the Pac-Man tattoo on the subject's forearm, perfectly mirroring the one on Michael's own.

Really, it was undeniable that the drawing had been based off of Michael. Hell, if he'd had a photo of him standing and waiting for Jeremy after school, he was half-convinced that the artwork would be more accurate.

Michael was further surprised when his gaze drifted lower and he noticed the artist's name printed on a sheet of paper hung below the art. He twisted, turning to look at the faces around him. He paused as his eyes locked onto you.

You looked… sick. It seemed like the very existence of your artwork on that wall made you feel like you wanted to vanish, and the expression only worsened as your gaze locked with his.

As Michael watched, you tore yourself away from Rich and Jake, ducking your head and curling in on yourself as you turned tail and disappeared into the crowd.

Michael didn't even have to stop and think before he took off after you.

---------

When Michael finally found you, it was under the same tree as the one in your drawing and he was struck by the irony for a moment. Eventually he forced himself to move, settling himself on the ground beside you as he tried to think of what to say.

It was you that finally broke the oppressive silence. "I'm sorry," you said.

It was then that Michael noticed how small you seemed in that moment. As one of the three most popular guys in school, you'd always seemed to emanate confidence- you were untouchable. But now, as you sat there with your head down and your shoulders hunched, he was struck by the fact that you were just as human as anyone else. "Why would you need to be sorry?"

"Isn't it a little, I dunno, creepy?" You laughed humorlessly, "For me to have been drawing you without your permission?"

Michael thought for a minute, trying to come up with an appropriate reply. He ended up shrugging, "I mean, it's better than thinking you were out to murder me."

That got a real laugh out of you and Michael couldn't help but grin in response. "No," you said once your laughter had subsided, "That's not something you'll need to worry about." Your grin faded a little, "Neither is the drawing thing," you amended, picking up the little red notebook that Michael had always seen you with and turning it over in your hands for a moment before holding it out to him. "I- uh, I won't draw you anymore and I figured that since you're in them, they technically belong to you."

Michael took the book from you slowly, fingers lingering on the worn leather and thumb brushing absently at a tear along the side. He lifted the cover slowly, gaze taking reverently at every drawing he uncovered, each one seeming to rewrite a little of what he'd thought he known about you. Each drawing unearthed something you treasured, whether it was a portrait of him (he couldn't help but blush at the sheer number of them, let alone the quality) or a quick sketch of a bird you'd seen and thought pretty.

He closed it after a few moments, nudging it against your thigh to get your attention. You turned back to him with a raised brow, clearly confused. "You aren't keeping it?"

"No," Michael replied, shaking his head slowly. "Who am I to keep an artist from his sketchbook, after all."

You still looked puzzled, "Really? I thought you'd be a lot less cool about this."

Michael shrugged, looking away with a flush on his cheeks, "It's kind of, I don't know, flattering, I guess? That you thought I was worth drawing."

"Worth drawing?" You mocked with a roll of your eyes, "If you were just worth drawing I would have done one and left it at that." You lifted the book pointedly, "I think you and I both know I've done a lot more than that."

The brunet chuckled, biting his lip as he tried to think of what to say. "You can, um, you can still draw me, if you want?"

You twisted around to look at him again, clearly shocked.

Michael raced to explain himself before you could say anything. "I mean, with me knowing about it this time, of course, but I thought- y'know, they're really good and with some better posing and me knowing not to move or make weird faces or something, then they could be really great and-" he cut himself off, face burning, and his hand twitched up to mess with the cord of his headphones the way he always did when he was nervous.

You couldn't help but laugh, grinning fondly at the action you'd noticed in your time admiring him. You brought a hand up to catch Michael's, gently tugging his hand free of the cord and setting it back on his leg with a light squeeze. "You're in it for shared custody then, huh?" you teased, tapping a finger against the cover of the sketchbook. "You realize that means you'll have to deal with me more often, right?"

Michael's blush darkened and you ducked your head, "I… wouldn't be opposed?"

"Shared custody it is then." You grinned, laying back in the grass to look up at the clouds, content with enjoying the way your rocky day had turned out. Maybe this wasn't you asking him out, but it was a start.

Maybe by this time next year you'd be able to talk him into doing some nude modeling...

#male reader x michael mell #male!reader x michael mell #reader x michael mell #male reader x be more chill #male!reader x be more chill #reader x be more chill #male reader x #male!reader x #male!reader #be more chill reader insert

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thorne93 · 4 years

Text

Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 8)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 1241

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy, @carryonmyswansong, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A morning before your classes, your phone rang, the screen indicating it was your husband. A warm smile grew on your face and you answered it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sweetie,” Spence greeted. “Are you in class?”

“No, not yet. I’ve got about another hour. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I wanted to let you know I got home last night. I got in late though, so I didn’t want to bother you.”

“So you solved the case?” you said, happily.

“Yep. It was actually the first victim’s brother.”

“Interesting, but that makes sense.”

“Hey, I wanted to let you know, I went ahead and called a place to come paint the bathroom and kitchen. I know you’d picked out the colors. I thought I might as well do it while you’re not here and I’m out on cases.”

This gesture reminded you of one of the many reasons you loved Spence to begin with. He was always thinking ahead and doing incredibly nice things for you. And here you were, about to kill behind his back, embarking on a second life he would know nothing about.

“That’s great. Thank you. I can’t wait to see it when I get back.”

“Speaking of coming back, Rossi’s wedding is next weekend, can you make it?”

“Yeah, absolutely. I can leave right after class and be up there.”

Truth be told, you hadn’t seen Spence at all since you’d gotten down here. You never video chatted and making it up on the weekends just wasn’t an option when it came to Dexter’s teachings.

But Rossi’s wedding wasn’t something you could get out of, not that you wanted to, but you only had so much time to learn absolutely everything for pulling off the perfect crime.

“It’ll be so good to see you. I know the team’s missed you.”

“I miss them too, and I really do miss you. It’s just that packing up to head up and come back would be expensive and exhausting and leaves little time for grading papers--”

In a soft voice, he assured, “It’s fine, Y/N. it’s me, remember. I know how hard it is to juggle being a professor and a profiler. We knew finding time together would be hard when you took this job, but it’s okay. We’ll survive it. It’s just a few more months. I’ll see you during Rossi’s wedding, and we have all of spring break.”

A sigh of relief came from you. “Yeah, you’re right. We’ll have plenty of time together.”

“Oh, shoot, Garcia just called in case. Got to go. I love you! Have a good day.”

“You too.”

With that, you hung up and got ready for class.

----------------

“So what do you have for me tonight?” you asked when you entered Dexter’s apartment.

“We’re going on our first stake out,” he said with a raise of his eyebrows.

“Sounds exciting,” you stated. “Do I need to wear anything special?”

“Nope, what you’re in is fine. I’m just going to show you how I get them.”

“So is this your hunting outfit?” you asked, gesturing to his olive green shirt and matching pants.

“What? Oh, I guess, yeah.”

“Long sleeves, in Miami… That doesn’t stick out,” you retorted with a snide expression.

“Clearly I’ve caught no one’s attention so far,” he remarked.

“Touche.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

The two of you walked out and went to Dexter’s car before driving off.

“So who’s the target?”

“Local chef. People go to his restaurant and about a week later, they die.”

“He’s poisoning a whole restaurant and no one is noticing?” you balked.

“He chooses plates randomly and only does about one dish a week.”

“That’s awful.”

“Yes, it is. So, we need to stalk him, figure out his pattern, and strike when he’s vulnerable.”

“Sounds… tedious.”

“It is.”

After a moment passed between you two, Dexter had found the restaurant he was looking for and parked in the back parking lot.

“So now what?”

“Now, we wait. We clock the time he comes out, how long he takes to pull away, and follow him.”

“Ugh, even as a criminal, I have to deal with stakeouts.”

Dexter turned to look at you briefly. “Hey, the food can be alright.”

“Ah, yes, the lovely diet of fast food burgers and gas station burritos, what fond memories.”

“Let me get you some real stakeout food before you knock it,” he encouraged.

You threw up your hands in surrender. “Fine, fine.”

The two of you watched the door in silence for five minutes before Dexter asked, “So, who do you want to be your targets?”

“Hadn’t thought about it much really. If I do criminals that I arrested and that got off, might throw up a red flag.”

“True. What about criminals other teams have caught?” he offered.

“Still too close to home. Actually, if I’m being honest, animal abusers.”

He broke his focus on the back door to turn to you. “Really?”

Your eyes slid to his. “Yep.”

“Out of everyone in the world, you choose--”

“They don’t have anyone that can fight for them. People come by the droves to speak for kids. People rally together for women. Animals literally have no voice, they’re defenseless things that couldn’t have done or harmed anyone and some fucknut out there wanted to hurt them.”

He seemed shocked, but didn’t argue with you. “Wow. Okay, so… animal abusers it is. And method?”

“Eye for an eye.”

“You realize that will be tedious, risky?”

“No more risky than you running around Miami in a Henley and leather gloves,” you pointed out with a coy grin.

“Haha, very funny. I’m serious though. You’ll have to suffocate, stab, shoot, strangle…”

“I have no problem with that,” you assured.

He bobbed his head. “Fair enough.”

“I can tweak the cause of death if it’s too obvious but I’d really like to do that.”

“Hey, according to you and your area of expertise your MO can’t be changed.”

At this, it was your turn to roll your eyes. “Okay, I get it, you think my job’s a joke.”

“I think the theories you blindly put your faith into is a joke, not your job.”

“Thank you for clarifying that.”

A metal door slammed shut and you jumped. Dexter looked up. “That’s him.”

The two of you sat and watched for a short while, then suddenly, the silent chase was on.

----------------------------------------

The following morning, you called your work to report back to them.

“Ah, Special Agent Reid,” Director Robertson said into the phone. “So good to hear from you. I was starting to worry you’d become one of the missing persons.”

You laughed slightly at the thinly veiled acknowledgement of your slacking.

“Right, I apologize. School has kept me rather busy. I’ve just got done interviewing the families.”

“And?” she urged.

“And there isn’t a lot to go on, from them at least. I’m not done though. I’ve still got plenty more leads to follow.”

“Make it work. I’d like a suspect before you return from Miami, if at all possible. If any agent can crack the case, it’s you.”

“Thank you,” you said. You sighed when you hung up. This could be a huge career move for you, if you just gave them Dexter’s name.

But he didn’t deserve that. He deserved to be left alone. Right now, you were the only thing standing between Dexter and prison, and you intended to keep it that way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#inside the criminal mind #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #dexter #dexter morgan #dexter morgan fic

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noncanonlove · 5 years

Text

Circumvent

It was Monday again. Hermione happened to detest Mondays. People were recovering from their weekends and so it slowed down anything she was trying to accomplish from the Friday past. The work day was torture and she couldn’t get home fast enough, lest she explode. Draco had a tendency to lose track of time if he was elbow deep in whatever he was currently trying to breed in the Manor’s greenhouse for his potions experiments but he tried to be home around the time she got back, sometimes worried she’d be tempted to return and do something rash if he wasn’t there to intercede.

The rest of the week, they had a pretty easy routine. They would make dinner together, discuss their days, work on pet projects in their shared workspace in the basement, have amazing sex, bathe, and pass out until everything restarted the next day. But Mondays were different. After slogging through the work day with ever growing irritation she came home fed Crookshanks, changed into comfortable clothes and lay on the couch to read and ignore everything. Draco would come home, already washed up, then after she’d taken her place on the couch he would pick up the cellphone she’d charmed to be able to work in magical environments.

She’d had the bright idea to get the Pureblood group more interested in the Muggle world. In order to do that she had to appeal to their curiosity and their natures. Gossip was the easiest one to prey upon. If they wanted to gossip, then they had to do it at a weekend do or a week day soiree. Hermione had gotten tired of attending the slew of them Draco loved to attend in short order after they’d gotten together, but had managed to get the number down to one or two a week. Usually on Sundays. Instead she’d researched and experimented on cellphones and other electronics with charms and other things until she’d gotten them to cooperate despite the magical interference.

She’d started small. She’d gotten one for Draco and showed him the appeal of being able to text her throughout the day without having to fuss with owls and also be able to send her pictures. Sometimes she regretted the pictures portion but usually he was pretty good about not being a total prat. Then to enact the next step of her plan, she’d casually texted him across the room during a do. That had gotten Pansy Parkinson’s immediate attention when she’d seen Draco pull out his phone and check the message. It had prompted a thousand questions from the circle she’d been in conversation with. Most had turned their noses up at the idea but Pansy and Blaise both cornered her later to acquire her help in getting them one. They knew an upcoming trend when they saw one and always had to be ahead of it.

So, one by one, each member of Draco’s circle had come to them for help on selecting a cellphone and then having Hermione charm it so it would be functional and never run out of battery. She had showed them all how to call one another, and they did that sometimes but surprisingly most of them preferred to text.

After their first couple of Mondays spent together as a couple newly living in the same house, Draco had figured out that she would rather light the house on fire than be chatty. For a while he’d holed up in his study or he’d sit in the chair next to her and read as well. After getting the cellphone situation settled however, he preferred to pace in circles around their couch as she laid on it while he gossiped away with the rest of his coterie.

She was always secretly amused, the one highlight of her Mondays, sometimes watching him in her peripheral vision as he became so engrossed in multiple conversations. He could become surprisingly expressive in the right atmosphere and by this point in their relationship he’d dropped his guard around her entirely. The instant she got up to make dinner though, the phone went away and his attention came back to them. She’d been wary of things getting annoying when she thought up the whole thing but she’d felt guilty about him being gradually cut off from his friends the with less parties they attended. Instead he’d started setting up group lunches throughout the week to compensate.

One thing she never had to worry about, however, was him trying to covertly cheat with it. The whole institution disgusted him. He’d admitted to her once that the mere idea of it turned his stomach. His parents had had a rough patch before where they’d cheated on each other and it’d nearly destroyed their family. Family was everything to him, so that was all it took in his mind to be permanently set against it. But more than that, Hermione trusted him. He’d offered to let her go through his phone before when a couple of scandals had happened. She’d merely kissed him and went back to her book, saying that they’d been through too much to get to the point to where they were at and that she trusted him not to do anything to endanger it. She’d been able to tell he’d appreciated it by the way he’d nuzzled against her afterwards, cuddling close.

Tonight, however, when she got up he’d put the phone away but had intercepted her as he came along his path around the couch.

“I think we should talk about something,” he started, his eyes cutting to the side.

That was his tell for being nervous, which set off the same emotion within her. Draco got nervous over precious little.

“Okay,” she hesitated, letting him guide her back onto the couch.

He took her hands in his and studied her for a moment before proceeding.

“I’ve been thinking about something. You’ve seemed to become less and less happy at the Ministry the longer you’re there. I don’t presume to know the whole picture,” she wanted to roll her eyes at that. She’d bet her salary that he and Lucius had been talking again, “but if I had a guess at it those old bats have come to the conclusion of your potential. In short, they don’t like it and all the change you herald should you get your footing. I’m afraid that you’re getting boxed in in your little job in Creatures. It’s been almost a year since you’ve been able to get anything passed.”

Despite the gentleness he’d said it with, it still gripped Hermione’s heart painfully because he was right. No matter what she’d done she’d always seemed to hit roadblock after roadblock. She’d begun to suspect that her boss had started to just give her platitudes when she brought things up to him about it to try to keep her from blowing a gasket. Her eyes filled with tears and she envisioned the rest of her career being like this until she became another Arthur Weasley, boxed off in some tiny office, out of sight and out of mind.

“Babe, I didn’t tell you this to make you cry,” he said, gathering her to his chest tightly, “Please don’t cry.”

“What am I supposed to do? It was my dream to change things and now it’s been ground to dust by some archaic, august caucus of pompous old bastards terrified of one woman,” her voice quavered from against his collarbone.

He languidly rubbed a hand up a down her back, “Well, to be truthful you can be pretty scary. You’re a powerful witch and you’re smarter than most of them combined. You’re certainly a formidable force. I didn’t say any of this to upset you. I had an idea. What methods are most successful at enacting change at the ministry?” he asked her.

“Bribery,” she muttered darkly, thinking of how Lucius would visit different departments and how little things always seemed to happen after he would pop by one, usually resulting in one bigger result later on that couldn’t quite be traced back to him unless one was really paying close attention.

He chuckled, “What else?”

She thought about it for a minute before bringing her head up to look at him again, “Well there’s public opinion…”

“Exactly. You’ve always been persuasive with your words, even if you need a little guidance sometimes with the presentation,” he grunted as she elbowed him but charged on, “Why don’t you write your own column?” He proposed.

She couldn’t stop the snort.

“What?” he asked, bewildered and more than a little irritated.

“The only two options I have for publishing them in is The Prophet or The Quibbler,” she said disdainfully. “Either one would edit my pieces to death to where it would hardly look like anything I’d actually written or bury them under a bunch of nonsense.”

Draco knew and understood her feelings on both of those media sources. He’d come prepared though.

“That’s true, but from everything I’ve heard, people who’ve fought in the war and many of those recovering in general are displeased by both the state of the Ministry and The Prophet. The way The Prophet is so wishy washy they’ve made themselves too unreliable for too long,” he said.

“So I start my own paper? Where would I get the resources to do that? I may have gotten some money off of the sale of my parents estate and what I was gifted by helping bring down Voldemort, but that’s not enough to pay people to write, to buy the equipment, a base of operations and everything else,” she started.

Her merely stared at her until she shut up and looked back at him.

“Have you forgotten that the Malfoys aren’t just known for their ability to affect change and their magical prowess?” he drawled with a hitched brow.

“Draco I can’t ask you to fund me! What if it fails? Surely I can find other avenues…” she said with wide eyes.

He scoffed, “You act like I won’t make that back within the year. I bet within five you’ll drive The Prophet right out of business.”

She looked at her lap with a furrowed brow, her mouth pulled to one side as her mind raced across it.

He knew he’d won when she set her shoulders, finally looking back up at him.

“You’re going to help me with this right? This isn’t something I could do without you even if you weren’t funding it,” she said, squeezing his hands.

“Don’t be silly, you absolutely could do it!” he insisted fiercely, “but to answer your question, of course I’ll help you. As much as you want,” he promised.

He couldn’t stand the idea of her fire being extinguished in that thrice damned Ministry. She was too smart and too full of life to become a victim of their drudgery. With this she could enact the change she wanted and circumvent dealing with them all together. As an added bonus Draco wouldn’t have to share her as much anymore.

“I’ll quit tomorrow, then and we’ll get things going,” she said, excitement beginning to bloom across her face.

He just grinned and kissed her. The paper was a good idea anyway, but their partnership in it would be a good proving ground for something bigger between them. He was determined to come out right side up on that aspect of the venture.

#Dramione #Draco #draco lucius malfoy #Draco Malfoy #Hermoine #Hermione Jean Graner #Hermione Granger #Draco x Hermione #Ministry #Purebloods #Cellphones #Changes #love #romance #partnership #Ficlet #my drabble is broken

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chierafied · 5 years

Note

Prompt: "Humans will pack bond with anything." I had wanted to give an ichiruki prompt, but this fits jily better. Good luck and thanks in advance!

This fic is like a year late but hey, I got it done in the end.

For the longest time I was drawing a total blank on the prompt but then my campus library made a post last summer on their instagram about their robot vacuum. And well, it all started to come together from there. :D

Hope you enjoy the fluff!

Life Outside of the Library

James Potter wasn’t typically the type to frequent a library.

Sure, his mother had taken him to one sometimes when he’d been a kid. He had good memories from libraries and liked them in general. In James’ opinion, they were an important service to have and it was nice they existed.

But sitting in a library wasn’t his preferred way to spend his spare time – not when there were football practices to go to, friends to see, video games to conquer and endless Youtube videos to laugh at.

And even if he did enjoy reading the occasional book, he didn’t feel a need to surround himself with them.

Now, though, in his twenties, James Potter had become a regular at his university’s library and had gained a whole new appreciation for them.

He loved his friends, and had a blast living with them – but sharing a flat with three other blokes did not offer the kind of environment to be productive in. And productive was what he desperately needed to be, now that he was working on his thesis.

Though to be fair, even had he lived alone, James still likely would’ve got more work done at the library: his home offered too many comforts and distractions for him to resist.

Besides, whenever he hit a snag with his writing or had trouble finding a good source to cite, he could go and ask one of the librarians for help.

Like miracle workers, they tracked down the information he’d need or located a whole bunch of great sources for him.

He wasn’t quite sure how they did it, but he silently suspected that some sort of magic was involved.

James visited the library at least three times a week. Some days he only stayed close to an hour in the morning. On some rarer occasions, he came in as the doors opened and stayed in until closing.

Of course, James being James, he was also on a first-name basis with everyone working at the library.

Including the robot vacuum that silently whirred about the floors in the mornings, doing its thing. James called it Robert.

He swung in early one Monday morning, refreshed after the weekend and ready to get some more progress made on his thesis.

He didn’t head straight for his usual spot in the quiet back corner but stopped at the information desk.

The librarian on duty smiled fondly at him.

“Here again, eh?”

“Nowhere else I’d rather be, Nora,” he replied, grinning. “How was your weekend? Does Thomas still have the flu?”

“The weekend went as well as could be expected,” Nora said. “Thomas is on the mend but he hasn’t gone back to school yet. He’s passed it off to his father though, so now I have another baby to nurse to health.”

James laughed. “Take care of yourself, too, and don’t get sick!”

“Thanks. Good luck with your thesis!”

James nodded his thanks and started toward his preferred spot.

In between the shelves, he came across Robert the robot vacuum, whirring about and keeping the carpets clean.

“Hullo, Robbie, mate,” James told it as he walked past.

He settled at his table and logged on to the desktop computer set there. Some students carried their laptops around, but James preferred not using his own laptop for the same reason he’d come to the library in the first place: to keep all distractions to a minimum.

It was working, though, since he had made a surprising amount of progress on his thesis.

Six weeks ago, he’d barely had an inkling of an idea. Now, he already had almost 15 pages written and his online survey was up and receiving responses.

Today, he settled on refreshing his memory of the theory of his chosen research method. The theoretical and academic textbook wasn’t the most immersive book he’d ever read, but he lost the track of time nonetheless, scribbling down a couple of notes for himself on a scrap paper.

When his stomach started grumbling a few hours later, James typed up his notes, packed his things and left the library.

——————-

A week or two later, on a foggy Tuesday morning, James walked into the library. He hadn’t been at the library for over a week, as he’d gone home to visit his parents for the autumn break.

He headed straight to the shelf holding reserved materials to pick up the books he’d requested.

He greeted the librarian – Susan – as he passed the information desk and started towards his back corner.

Only something seemed off.

The library was oddly still.

He was nearly at his table when he realised what was different this morning – he hadn’t seen Robert anywhere.

He dropped his books on his regular table, then followed the soft thumps of books being handled. It was coming from the shelf over the next, where he found a young woman standing by a book cart and shelving books.

James didn’t recognise her, but she had a name tag pinned on and was obviously working, so she had to be staff.

Before James could speak up, she noticed him. She turned to him and met his eyes, flashing him a quick smile.

“Can I help you?”

“Uhhh,” James offered lamely because his breath was stuck somewhere in his throat and his brain had momentarily stalled. He’d forgotten why he’d sought her out in the first place.

Then, it all came back to him in a rush. “Yeah. What’s up with Robbie?”

The librarian blinked.

“I’m sorry, who’s Robbie?”

“Robert. The robot vacuum,” James explained, feeling like a complete pillock.

Her green eyes sparked and the corner of her lips twitched suspiciously, but thankfully she didn’t laugh at him.

“Ohh, sorry. I didn’t know the robot vacuum had a name,” she replied. “It’s out of commission for the time being, seems like there was some sort of a malfunction with the loading dock over the weekend but it’s being looked into.”

“Okay. Thanks. I was just wondering since I’m so used to seeing it around in the mornings.”

“You’re a regular, then?” she asked.

“Yeah, working on my thesis,” James said.

“All the best with that,” she said.

“Thanks. Well, I won’t keep you any longer,” James said, nodding at the book cart. “See you around.”

“Bye,” she replied, then returned to shelving.

James walked back to his table, his heart pounding in his chest and his face glowing with flustered warmth.

He’d definitely made such a lame first impression with the new, fit librarian… but on the bright side, the only way from here was up.

——————-

The new, fit librarian’s name was Lily, and she wasn’t actually a librarian. Like James, she was a student at the university and in her final year. She was majoring in library and information science and was doing an internship at the campus library.

They’d been chatting on and off whenever she managed to be on a shift when James showed up at the library.

Just little things; the kind of usual small-talk he had with any of the librarians working there.

Except when he was chatting with Lily, his heart was always racing in his chest, and no matter how mundane the conversation he’d treasure every word and go over their discussions later in his mind, replaying them over and over again.

That certainly never happened with any of the other librarians.

Simply put, James was absolutely smitten.

He’d been a goner since the first time they’d met; when she’d stolen his breath with her bright smile.

Even Peter had made an off-hand comment on how cheerful James seemed coming home from the library.

Despite his feelings, however, James wasn’t sure yet if he should pursue Lily or not.

He didn’t know if she was at all interested in him or if she was simply being friendly. He hadn’t really tried flirting with her, either.

Because as much as he treasured each interaction with her and even though they were both students at the university and therefore on an equal ground… James was painfully aware that during every chat they had at the library, she was a member of the staff.

Not only was she working, but for her being friendly towards the patrons was part of the job description.

That’s why James felt he was on shaky ground and wasn’t sure how he might broach the topic of meeting Lily outside the library – or if, indeed, he should broach the topic at all.

Feeling torn and conflicted, he stepped into a coffee shop near the campus, accompanied by the chime of the bell at the door.

He joined the queue and had dug out his phone to check on his notifications when a flash of familiar dark red in the periphery of his vision caught his attention.

Lily was preoccupying his thoughts so thoroughly that, at first, James believed his brain had conjured her up and that he was so far gone that everything now reminded him of her.

But even as he stared, the sight didn’t waver or change. Instead, Lily turned, drink in hand, and noticed him.

The surprise in her eyes mirrored his own and she offered him a hesitant wave.

James couldn’t help the grin that rose to his lips. He waved back. His gaze followed her as she made her way to a table by the window.

Impatient, James queued up to the counter and made his order.

As soon as he’d got his coffee, he made a beeline to Lily’s table.

“Hi,” he said, a little breathless while a smile that was sure to be goofy tugged at his lips. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” she replied, flashing him a smile in return as she indicated at the empty seat across the table.

A bounce in his step, James circled the table, set his drink down and claimed the seat.

Their gazes met, and the corner of Lily’s lips twitched upwards.

“So…” James drawled, “looks like there’s life outside of the library.”

“Maybe,” Lily replied, “though given how much time you spend there the comment applies to you too.”

“That’s fair,” James said.

His fingers drummed against his coffee mug.

While he was glad that she’d responded to his teasing comment in kind, just sitting across from her, here and now, had agitation thrumming through his body.

If he wanted to act on his infatuation, he couldn’t have been served a better chance than this.

“Oh, Robert the robot vacuum has made full recovery,” Lily said.

“Really? That’s great. Will be good to see the little guy around again.” James ruffled his hair to stop himself from fidgeting. “Does that sound too weird?”

“Nah.” Lily shrugged. “Having seen Robbie for myself now I can understand the appeal. And at the end of the day, it isn’t any weirder than me talking to my cat.”

“Well, cheers, that makes me feel a little better,” James said, flashing her a smile. “I was sure I had made a terrible first impression as this huge dork that had named a vacuum cleaner.”

“You definitely did come off as a huge dork that had named a vacuum cleaner,” Lily agreed. “Doesn’t mean it was a terrible first impression though. It was kind of sweet, actually.”

James perked up. Faint and frail wings of hope fluttered in his chest.

He sipped his coffee, gathering his nerve.

Then, he took the plunge.

“You know it’s funny we ran into each other here, like this.” He met her eyes, managed a small crooked grin. “I’ve been wanting to ask if you’d want to grab a coffee with me for a while now.”

Lily’s eyebrow arched, and the look in her eyes turned appraising.

“Really? What’s been stopping you?”

“Well,” James started, cheeks flushing, “I wasn’t sure it was all proper, what with you being staff and me being a patron. I’ve heard too many horror stories about customers’ unsolicited attempts at flirting or mistaking friendliness as a sign of interest and I really didn’t want to be like one of those arses.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Lily’s lips. “The fact that you’re aware that people like that are arses proves you’ve no need to worry about being one,” she told him. “Where have you heard all these horror stories, anyway?”

“My cousin Dorcas. She works at a pub so she sees all kinds.”

“I bet.” Lily took a good long sip of her drink, then leaned her cheek against the palm of her hand. “You know, that’s not really something we need to worry about at the library. Our patrons don’t really flirt with us.”

“I don’t know,” James said, his tone teasing. “I’ve seen how that blond girl with the purple backpack looks at you.”

Lily laughed.

“She’s cute enough,” Lily admitted. “But I think I prefer a different type.”

There was a gleam in her eye that had James' throat growing dry and the pit of his stomach trembling.

“What’s your preferred type?” he asked, his voice a little hoarse.

Lily looked at him, keeping him at the edge of his seat while she brought her mug to her lips and sipped.

“The sweet and dorky type that names a vacuum cleaner and worries so much about being an arse that they won’t even ask you out,” she replied at last, smiling.

“Well then,” James said, unable to keep the blinding bright smile from his face. “I happen to know someone who fits that description.”

“Maybe you could introduce him to me,” Lily said, grinning.

“I suppose I should,” James agreed.

He reached across the table and offered Lily his hand.

Playing along, she took it and gave it a warm, firm shake.

“Hi, I’m James Potter and I fancy you a lot.”

“Nice to meet you, James,” she replied, voice trembling from barely contained laughter. “I’m Lily Evans and I was wondering if you’d like to have a coffee with me sometime.”

“I’d love to,” James answered, still holding her hand in his as their gazes locked.

Her green eyes were alight with laughter and more beautiful than James had ever seen. Her palm was soft and warm against his. Her smile was wide and a little smug and it still completely stole his breath.

James’ heart soared and even though he still barely knew her, even though the two of them were only in the very beginning of their journey together, he was suddenly certain of one thing: this was the woman he’d marry.

#jily #jily fanfiction #jilytober #James Potter #Lily Evans #chie writes #fic: JL #RR: JL #Modern AU #Muggle AU #2400 words #Not currently open from prompts!! Just finally getting to this one that's been sitting in my inbox for a year

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