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prurientpuddlejumper · 3 years

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Cabin in the Woods [18+]

Jackson Neill x Female Reader

For @storiesofsvu’s Fall Bingo! Requested by @resparza!

Summary: You and Jackson take a trip to New England that goes slightly awry.

Warnings: NSFW, nipple play, fingering, praise, slow gentle sex until the end when it gets a lil rough. Fluffy fluff & the tiniest bit of angst (so Jackson can reassure you). Trans male version here

3,350 words

Jackson made a tiny mistake with the timing. He booked your leaf-peeping getaway for mid-October, when the leaves in the city were just beginning to turn.

When you arrived at your cozy Airbnb in the mountains of Vermont, you were greeted by the awe-inspiring sight of… sticks.

“Goddammit. I forgot how geography works,” Jackson griped, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’d been in a sour mood for most of the drive up I-91 when the scenery started to look distinctly more ashen than orange halfway through Massachusetts.

“It’s like we time-traveled two weeks into the future,” you marveled at the bare tree branches rattling in a chilly breeze. Your rustic cedar-shingle cabin was surrounded by forest and at the end of a long dirt driveway. Even without the screen of leaves, you couldn’t see any neighbors.

“So much for leaf-peeping. There are no leaves.”

You picked up a bright red maple leaf from the driveway. “Found one!”

He chuckled at your enthusiasm and shook his head. “If I made our reservation a week earlier, the foliage would be, you know, in trees.”

“Found another!” you pointed at the colorful ground, grinning. “There’s another!” You picked each one up and tossed them at him like confetti.

“Alright!” he groaned, curling his elbow about your neck like a shepherd’s crook to wrangle you in. “I see you refuse to have a miserable time. Won’t even wallow with me for two seconds?”

“I think it’s pretty.” You turned in his arm and kissed him.

The tip of your nose was cold, but your lips were warm as he kissed you back and tried to look on the bright side. Just because things weren’t going to plan didn’t mean he had to relapse into his ingrained Catholic guilt.

***

Since the publication of his book, Meyerism: A New American Religion, Jackson Neill had been receiving threats from the eponymous cult that had him on edge. Not only was he afraid for himself—he wasn’t so macho to pretend otherwise—but he worried about you or his kids getting caught in the crossfire. The deeper he dug into the Meyerist Movement, the more he was convinced they were capable of anything.

This vacation was supposed to be a way to leave all that behind for a weekend, but stress clung to him like spiderwebs.

At least the weather was cooperative. Friday afternoon was clear and sunny—just the right temperature to sit out on the porch with a hot cup of cider. After unpacking, you settled down with Jackson on Adirondack chairs and listened to the sounds of nature as the fading sun slanted orange and red through the forest.

Pops of bright color still stood out amid the dull grey-brown landscape like flames—late trees that had waited for your arrival to change.

“You’re right: it is pretty,” Jackson conceded, your hand nested in his. Your fingertips were getting cold, so he held them to his lips and blew on them.

Tomorrow, you’d go on a nice hike with a beautiful view of the snow-capped Green Mountains. The trip wasn’t a total waste, Jackson thought. He tried to relax.

***

The next morning, you awoke to the pounding of rain on the roof and Jackson pacing downstairs in the living room. The entire cabin creaked and groaned with the force of the wind, and you quickly pulled on a sweater and wool socks before padding down the stairs.

Jackson was tapping at his phone, muttering under his breath, before finally tossing the useless device on the couch with a dry laugh. His apparent crankiness couldn’t have been that bad, though—he’d gotten up early to light about a hundred votive candles, filling the dim living room with flickering golden light. He must have been planning something romantic.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his stubbly cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“No signal out here in God’s country,” Jackson rolled his eyes at a wooden cross decorating a door frame, which had not been visible in the listing photographs.

“Isn’t there Wi-Fi?”

Jackson stared at you with lips so thin they vanished into a fine line, and eyes that looked ready to shatter like exploding light bulbs at any moment. “Storm knocked out the power.”

Oh. That was why he lit candles.

“And our hike is canceled, unless you want to go out in that.” A freezing mix of rain and sleet rattled the window panes.

It was easy to let another person’s bad mood get you down, but you tried to stay positive. He’d been so tense lately, he needed support. You both needed this vacation to go well. “That’s OK. We can stay in and get cozy with the fireplace.”

“You would think so,” he gave a humorless chuckle, shaking your arm off to sulk into the open-plan kitchen. “The listing said breakfast was included, but the refrigerator is empty. We’ve got… toast.”

“Maybe we can drive into town? Find one of those quaint little bakeries.”

“Out into the cold,” he sighed. “And we don’t have internet to look a place up. No wonder the host thinks they can get away with starving us—I can’t even call to complain!”

The wall of positivity you’d constructed groaned and cracked, and the anxiety it held back began to stream through. You sank down onto the couch.

Oblivious, Jackson hunted through the charmingly rustic (and empty) cabinets with an increasingly frustrated frown. “This trip is a disaster.” The words stung as surely as if he called you a disaster.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?” He turned. Your voice was so quiet he barely heard you say anything.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated so he would hear, lower lip trembling with the effort.

It took him three strides to cross the entire cabin, and he was on top of you, kneeling in front of the couch, stroking your face. “Hey, no, no… What are you talking about?” His green eyes were soft as the hay fields you’d passed yesterday as they searched yours.

“It was my idea to come here,” you sniffed.

“I know.” His head tilted, and frown lines creased his forehead. “I wanted this weekend to be perfect for you, and I can’t get anything right. I don’t know why you’re sorry. This is my fault.”

“But it’s my fault you’re miserable. I thought getting away from the city would be relaxing. I wanted some alone time with you. But you’re not having any fun. I just don’t want you to be upset…”

Something changed in his eyes.

“I… I’m not upset.” His thumb gently stroked your cheek. “I’m not upset at all—not at you. Maybe at myself. Fine, entirely at myself. This was your trip, and I fucked it up. I hate disappointing you.”

A hint of a smile crept back into your face. You covered his hand with your own and turned into it to kiss his palm. “Jax, you could never disappoint me. All I wanted out of this trip was to spend time with you. So long as we’re together, I’m happy.”

“You don’t look happy.” A flicker of a self-deprecating smirk. “Guess I ruined things by being a grouch, huh?”

Your face once again threatened a smile. “No…”

“Yes. I’m a big mean grouch. Come on, you can tell me off,” he grinned, leaning close to your neck and purring his words against your earlobe. “Punish me. Throw a handful of sleet down my shirt. Push me into a pile of wet leaves.”

“Nooo!” you squirmed beneath him, fighting a laugh as he invented tortures for himself and kissed them into your skin.

“Come on, I deserve it.” He pulled back, and a smile broke across his face like dawn to see how your eyes had brightened.

“Alright, alright. Maybe just a little sleet.”

“From now on”—he pressed his lips against your neck again and sucked lightly at the beat of your pulse point—“I promise”—he nibbled his way over your jaw—“to appreciate every moment of our vacation”—his lips ghosted against yours—“and make sure you feel good.”

You pulled him down onto the couch with you, falling back onto the cushions as his lips melted with yours and his tongue hunted for a moan inside your mouth. He found one, long, slow, and tortured as you tasted the raw heat of his apology.

“Mmm,” you hummed as if a chocolate truffle were melting on your tongue. “You want to make me feel good?”

“Yes,” he sighed back, lips moving against your cheek and his hips lazily grinding against your thigh.

“I have a few ideas about how you could do that…”

“So do I.”

His long fingers slid down your stomach and slipped beneath the waistband of your flannel pajama pants. You drew a sharp breath as his pads grazed the top of your slit, and he paused, looking to you with lust-blown eyes for permission to continue. Sucking your lower lip between your teeth, you angled your pelvis to move his fingers onto the aching bud of flesh that sent hot shivers out beneath your skin at the contact.

“Seems we’re on the same page, Dr. Neill,” you whispered, and captured his lips again.

Moaning into the kiss with a dark, gravelly rumble, Jackson let his fingers venture deeper into your folds. You weren’t drenched for him yet. Moments ago, you had been on the verge of crying, and he still had to reassure your body that it was wonderful and loved—but he was a patient man and enjoyed taking his time. Each breath and sigh was a signal he attended like a rapt student in the front row of the classroom, his own pleasure coursing through his veins as he played with your pussylips and brought out your trust and desire.

“Shirt off.”

Nodding, you peeled the hem up over your stomach, and he sat up to help you wriggle it off over your shoulders. While he was at it, he pulled off your pajama bottoms and stripped to his boxers.

“Hey, I’m cold,” you whined, pouting as goosebumps began to prickle over your naked arms.

He pulled the fleece blanket off the back of the couch and covered you both with it. “I’ll keep you warm, querida,” he purred as he lowered himself over you.

A hot flush spread over your skin. You loved when he spoke Spanish—sweetly, with the vocabulary of a 1950s telenovela, and full of diminutives the way his mother used to speak it to him as a child. A well-placed querida or cielito could send shivers up your spine. It was nothing compared to the back-arching jolt a moment later when his tongue teased your nipple.

You cried out, fingers curling sharply into his hair as if his tongue carried an electric charge, unsure if you were trying to push him off or pull him closer and make sure he never stopped. As he gently sucked and your sensitive flesh pebbled into a stiff peak beneath his circling tongue, you were leaning toward the latter. Head thrown back, you gasped out his name, begging for more.

He worshiped your chest, eyes flicking up to meet yours with a playful, attentive expression, but he didn’t give you more, no matter how you clawed at the back of his scalp. His tongue worked in gentle, leisurely circles, tracing one fully before moving on to give attention to the other.

Fingers delving back between your thighs, he found your clit swollen and throbbing. You let out a startled, sobbing moan as he stroked it, your back arching, clinging to his head almost painfully tight to brace against the overwhelming sensation. If he kept touching your two most sensitive areas at the same time, you were going to come fast.

“Easy…” he soothed, sensing your agitated level of arousal. “I want to make this last. Can you be good for me and wait?”

Whimpering, you nodded and loosened your tight grip.

“Yes, Dr. Neill.”

“Good girl.”

As he languidly serviced your nipples, he dragged his fingers lower, through your folds. It still made your skin prickle with wanting, but without direct contact with your clit, you wouldn’t come as fast.

When he found your entrance with the pad of a finger, it was slick enough to press inside without resistance. You let out a delicious, tortured moan as the long digit penetrated your tight walls, opening them a little at a time.

“Fuck, you’re so warm. So wet. That’s my good girl.” He lifted his face from your chest to kiss you in praise.

Your hips writhed to push the finger deeper as you kissed him back. He was hungry to reconnect with you—to go slowly and spend as much time as he could sharing pleasure with your naked body—but you were starving. You might explode if he didn’t fuck you.

He moaned softly as your wetness swallowed more of his finger. “Feels like you’re sucking it. Trying to pull me in. You must want more.”

“Yes… please,” you whined, your hands gripping at his broad shoulders.

A second finger stretched your entrance, and he began slowly fucking you with both.

“Oh, fuck. More! Harder,” you moaned.

“You sound so desperate,” he observed casually. “Like one of my students trying to cram for a test.” Heavy-lidded bedroom eyes betrayed his desire, but he wore a cheeky grin and did not increase his pace.

Wet sounds of flesh filled the cabin, so slow it was torture. “Please, Jackson… please let me come. Please…” you begged, but he just kept watching you studiously, worshipfully, as he fingered you slowly. Enough to keep you begging, but not enough to let you finish.

He was straddling one of your legs, and his cock pressed rock-hard into your thigh. Every so often, you would feel it twitch, usually when his fingers massaged a sensitive spot inside that made you give a satisfying noise, and he could feel your pussy gripping around him. Then he would murmur, “You’re so beautiful. Fuck, you feel so good.”

Only when you were a drooling, trembling mess that could barely string two intelligible words together did he start to actively roll his hips, rubbing his erection against your leg.

“Do you want more?”

“Y-yes,” you sobbed.

He sat back on his haunches, and you wailed as his fingers slipped from your yearning wetness, leaving you so empty. “Do you want me to fuck you?” he asked softly, so tenderly that “fuck” sounded like the most romantic, poetic word in the English language.

“I love you,” you replied, which wasn’t technically a yes, but made Jackson’s breath catch suddenly in his throat.

“I love you, too, mi corazón.” He tugged the elastic waistband of his boxers down over his straining cock, and, taking it in his hand, notched its thick head against your entrance. His forehead rested against yours as he demanded huskily, “Now tell me you want me inside you.”

You gasped. He was so big and blunt against your tight pussy, you almost didn’t think he could fit. But you knew he could—and you knew that was why he always warmed you up so gradually, so agonizingly, so he would never hurt you. With the crown of his cock stretching your opening, the temptation of being filled by him was so close that an unbearable ache drowned out every other thought.

“I want you, Jackson. I need you.”

A thrill rushed through you as his walls came crashing down. His hips canted forward, and a pleasurable burn filled your depths as his cock stretched you open farther than seemed possible—and you watched his mind empty in that moment. All the stress and worry were gone. Nothing was on his mind but you and how good you felt wrapped around him. Nothing existed for you but him between your legs and the ragged sound of his breathing.

As if to seamlessly replace his fingers with his cock, he set the same languid pace. At first, the difference in girth was enough to make it infinitely more intense. Relief cascaded through you as your pleasure finally began to build toward a finale, heat pooling in your lower body with every thrust. Dipping his head, Jackson found a hardened nipple and sucked it until you were babbling incoherently, hips jerking to add to the depth and friction he was giving you.

“H-harder,” you whispered, and this time, he didn’t tease you.

Your pussy coated his cock with so much cream, he knew you could take all of him. Knew you were ready to snap, and so was he—so his hips pounded faster, thighs slapping your skin, heavy balls swinging against your ass.

“Yes… yes… yes…” he breathed rhythmically, chasing his climax as your arousal coated his cock and slicked your thighs.

“More,” you rasped, though your fingernails were already digging red crescents into his back, the stretch almost too much. He needed a stress release, and you wanted to be his outlet. “Let yourself go.”

A final barrier broke inside him, and he took you so quickly, it was more like jerking himself off with your body than making love. Nothing went through his mind but seeking his own release. For a moment, Even you vanished, and there was nothing but his cock surrounded and gripped by unbelievable warmth. You cried out in pleasure at the new depths he struck with reckless abandon.

His hips stuttered. “Fuck!” he gasped, fingers gripping the couch cushion as his hot seed painted your inner walls.

He panted, going still. After a few moments of catching his breath, cock twitching the remainder of its contents into you, he wiped the sheen of sweat off his brow and opened his eyes.

“You didn’t come, did you?” He gave a sheepish sigh.

“It’s OK. Sometimes it takes me too long… It was fun anyway.”

“Stop that. Whoever gave you those excuses is a fucking idiot.”

Keeping himself sheathed inside you, he reached between your bodies to stroke your clit. You gasped out, finding your body responded quickly with waves of molten heat exploding between your thighs. You were still close to finishing.

Jackson circled his hips, using his spent, tender cock while it was still hard. Though each movement was overstimulating and made his body cry out to stop, he savored the way you responded to the pressure: your eyes squeezing closed, your breath growing shallow. He lowered his mouth to your chest again, stroking your clit faster as he flicked his tongue and rocked his hips in shallow thrusts. Your moans built, louder and more strained, back arching beneath him until finally, you came, walls crashing around him, convulsing and releasing, then clenching down again as your whole body shuddered with wave after wave of ecstasy.

Jackson’s mouth popped off the bud of your nipple as a pained moan tore from his throat. His exhausted cock suffered as your pussy involuntarily tried to milk another orgasm from it, but there was a smile on his lips. A breathy laugh.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “You’re perfect.”

You lay together for a while under the blanket. Even after you’d recovered, your shared body heat was incentive enough not to want to get up yet. The storm outside didn’t relent, and despite the warm light of a hundred flickering candles, the air inside the cabin was chilly. Soon, you would start up the fire in the rustic stone hearth, and you could stay cozy inside all day roasting marshmallows and reading books or playing board games. After a brief trip into town for supplies, that is. Besides, you would have to brave the storm to make good on your promise to slip some ice down his shirt.

For now, Jackson’s face was buried contentedly in the curve of your neck, hot puffs of breath tickling your skin. You held him in your arms, combing your fingers through his hair.

“So,” you murmured. “Enjoying our vacation yet?”

You felt him smile. “It’s everything I needed.”

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tags: @beccabarba / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind / @neely1177 / @onerestein / @dreamlover31 / @isvvc-pvscvl / @shroomiehomie / @storiesofsvu / @welcometothemxdhouse / @feedthemadness-sweetie / @law-nerd105 / @amelia-song-pond / @michael-rooker / @xecq / @madpanda75 / @alwaysachorusgirl / @bananas-pajamas / @leanor-min / @mad-girl-without-a-box / @katierpblogg / @worldofvixen / @sassyada / @detectivebarba

#Jackson Neill x Reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

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From Eden: One

Warnings: noncon sexual acts, mentions of mental illness; tags to be added throughout series

This is dark!Bucky. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The mc suffers from agoraphobia. After a new neighbour moves in across the street, her home becomes even more of a prison.

Note: So I've decided to try something new. I'm hoping that you don't mind the new format. This story is written in first person in the form of diary entries. Transcripts will be included at the end of chapters to accomodate any who have issues reading the images.

I am still working on Omerta but chapter 12 is taking me a little bit longer to complete so hopefully this can tide you over until tomorrow. Thank you so much for your patience! And support!!

As always, if you are so inclined, please like, reblog, and comment. <3

Transcript:

Sunday

It rained today. I hoped it would break the humidity but the air is still balmy and thick. The garden is starting to droop without the usual June sunlight. The shrubs look healthy but I don’t know if the mums will bloom. It is late for them.

The windows are clouded now the rain is gone. Once they dry, it will be suffocating again. I should have pulled out the old patio set last weekend but Lorena was here for the groceries. My meds are running low, I’ll have to remind her.

Oh, I found the old afghan grandma used to use. The one with the knitted flowers. Not a single hole. I’ll wash it and hang it over the loveseat in the lounge. It still smells of her. It’ll be two years next week. I miss her.

The kettle is whistling. Lorena bought a new flavour of tea; a spiced rooibos. It smells more suited to the winter but I’m anxious to try. It’ll boil over if I keep writing.

I found a documentary on a country house in the British Midlands. I might watch that with my tea. Or maybe fall asleep on the couch. Again.

Monday

I have a new neighbour.

Today, I went out to check the bulbs I planted two weeks ago. I don’t think they’ll bud. It was humid and I had sweat in my eyes as the large truck pulled up across the street. The orange moniker on its side was faded and its white paint was almost yellow. I peeked out the gate as they backed it up.

The beeping was horrible, almost deafening.

A car was just behind it. I shouldn’t be so curious but grandma always said I was a watcher. Watching is easy; doing is… difficult.

My new neighbour is a man. He has dark hair and a thick beard. I thought I was hallucinating when I saw the rest of him. His arm shone in the sunlight. It’s metal! I’ve never seen anything like it. I never saw a prosthetic that ended in anything but a hook or a blunt stump. I guess, I never really thought much about it.

I think he saw me too. It is hard to see behind the ivy that covers the front gate but I swore he could see me. I hid before I could make sure of it. It’s rude to stare. That’s what grandma would say. So went back to the flower bed and dug up the bulbs. They were dead.Lorena is coming tomorrow. I’ll ask her to grab more.

Tuesday

Lorena came buy today. She commented about my new neighbour. I acted surprised.

I gave her my list and reminded her of my pills. She was gone for a while before she returned. When she returned, I helped her bring in the bags. We unpacked them and she told me about her new niece; Cora. I think that’s a pretty name but Lorena thinks it’s too old fashioned. She said I would like it given my usual tastes.

She asked if I was wearing grandma’s shirt. I lied and said I wasn’t.

I showed her the garden and she had some tea after helping me set up the heavy iron patio set with the mosaic tabletop.

She showed me pictures of Cora. She said when she marries Shelby, she wants to adopt but her sister offered to be her surrogate. I thought that was nice.She left shortly after. I’m in the garden, staring at the old shed as I write. The frame around the window is starting to fall apart. I should fix it soon. And maybe clean the--

Later

The man was at the gate. The one with the metal arm. He scared me.

I hid behind the ivy as I looked out at him. His eyes are very blue. Piercing. Despite the heat, they made me want to shiver. His metal fingers wrapped around one of the curlicues of the gate. He said hello and that his name was Bucky.

I nearly swallowed my tongue as I ran away. I didn’t dare grab my diary until the sunset. He was gone, thank god. I hope he doesn’t come back.

Wednesday

Doctor Tisha called today. She wants me to come in at the end of the month to have my prescriptions reviewed. I told her they were helping much better than the old ones. No more vertigo or manic fits, but my dreams are really vivid. She also reminded me that I should make more of an effort to go beyond the garden. The pills can’t do all the work. Well, I think there are parts of me that just can’t be fixed.

I cleaned out the birdbath but the shed window is still drooping. There’s a spider web above the door and I’m working up the courage to open it. My grandma was always the brave one; she called her slippers ‘the exterminators’. She always made me laugh.

Then the man returned. His knuckles make an odd clinking on the gate when he knocks. I didn’t move at first. I’d rather have faced the spider and her web. But he kept on and it was getting rather annoying.

He pulled some of the ivy aside as I got close. I kept to the edge and peeked out at him. He held a box of freesias.

“Hey again.”

He speaks as if he knows me. I don’t like that. He didn’t even care that I didn’t answer.

“I see you like to garden so I thought I’d bring you some flowers. To introduce myself…. Better. I’m sorry if I scared you yesterday.”

I didn’t know what to say. The freesias were all shades of red, orange, and yellow. Young with a bit of growing still to do. I shook my head.

“You don’t want them?” He asked.

I frowned so hard it hurt my cheeks. I haven’t talked to anyone by Lorena or Doctor Tisha since grandma died. I was never good at that.

“No, I don’t know you.” I felt as if it was someone else talking.

He blinked and I suddenly felt very dizzy. I ran back to the shed and ripped the door open without thinking. The web caught in my hair as I slammed it shut behind me. I sat in the shadows as I tried to wipe away the web. The old rubbermaid lid warped beneath me, if not cracked.

I didn’t come out until the musty air made me sick. As I ran into the house, I noticed he had left the flowers on the other side of the gate. I locked the door behind me and shuddered. I swore I felt eight legs crawling down my arm.

Thursday

Sure enough, the flowers are still there. They haven’t wilted at all despite the intense heat of the sun. June is in full effect and the days get brighter and longer.

I found the old weather vane grandma said was swept away in a storm. It was hidden behind the row hedges along the stone wall around the yard. It’s bent but fixable.

I went inside to eat at noon. I looked out the window as I ate; the strawberries were sour. I saw a shadow through the gate. I watched for a while, sure it was the shifting of the sun. Then I saw the metal fingers and the man’s square jaw as he tried to see past the ivy. He knelt and touched the dainty petals of the freesia. He lifted one of the small pots to sniff and placed it back in the box.

He left shortly after. I won’t go back out. I need to work on the house anyway. All this dust is making me sneeze.

Friday

The flowers are still there.

I refuse to look at them. Instead I focus on my own. I brought the old sony tape deck out to listen to the radio. Grandma always said it was older than me. I believe her. The speakers crackle and the antenna kept falling off.

The robins and sparrows were at the birdbath and a pair of cardinals have taken up in the old painted birdhouse around the back. The squirrels broke the window frame on the shed. Well, I’ll deal with that next week.

The flowers are starting to bloom nicely. I thought they might not, given the late showers and the sudden drought.

There was a monarch butterfly by the carnations. It flew away before I got too close. My mother liked monarchs. I remember she had one framed in her room. Like the picture of her in grandma’s.

I try not to think of her. Or grandma, too much.

It makes me sad. Doctor Tisha says this isn’t grandma’s house anymore, it’s mine. My life is mine, she tells me. It’s never really felt like it but I’m trying.

Saturday

The lock on the gate is broken and the flowers are gone. They didn’t go far. I found them planted by the lilies. I had tears in my eyes and my hands shook terribly as I wound an old bike lock around the gate. I picked up the pieces of the old latch. It’s totally ruined.

I haven’t been out since. I’m scared. Was it him?

It seems like a kind gesture but the memory of the busted lock makes me think otherwise.I’m confused. What does he want?

He should’ve let the flowers wilt and die. Or maybe I should just learn to tell people to leave me alone. Out loud.

#Bucky Barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x oc #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes x oc #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x oc #dark!fic #dark fic #fic #series #from eden #au #marvel #mcu

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giorno-plays-piano · 4 years

Text

Impersonator

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, death of minor character.

Words: 1953.

Summary: Meeting a cosplayer in Berlin isn’t a big deal, really. You don’t actually know why you are drawn to this guy in his stunning horned helmet, standing on the train with a seidr in his hand.

P.S. I own the plot of this story to amazing @caffiend-queen and my determination to write it to lovely @kinathewolf <3 Although I changed the story a little (this post made us discuss the idea), I hope you will like it!

_____________________

Waking up when it was barely six, you kept yawning and rubbing your eyes while sitting on the train. You worked for one of the thousands of start-ups in Berlin, and your boss always liked to start pretty early. Well, despite waking up when it was still dark, you didn’t mind, really – the U-Bahn was much less busy now than thirty minutes later, and you didn’t have to stand the whole way to your station.

Today was a bit different, though. Not that there were too many people, but that one guy with his horned helmet looked so fantastic you simply couldn’t take your eyes off him. He had entered on the Bismarckstraße station, and since then you had been staring at him shamelessly. He was the spitting image of Loki, that god from Asgard, the one who had been released by Avengers not so long ago for his aid in protection of Earth from an invading alien force. Now Loki had his own fan club, and this guy was probably one of the squad. Seeing him in a full suit wasn’t surprising either – tomorrow was the first day of Comic Con, so he was probably going for a cosplay catwalk rehearsal before the event.

No one was really paying attention to him as he stood silently near the door with his seidr, but you just couldn’t help yourself. Come on, he was probably the most handsome guy you had seen in years, not even mentioning his gorgeous costume. Although you had never been Loki’s fan – for God’s sake, you still remembered that day in Stuttgart – this guy’s passion for cosplay was admirable.

When you reached Wittenbergplatz, a group of cheerful tourists entered the train, and the guy had to move further, taking a place close to yours. Of course, you still stared at him in awe, and he quickly noticed you. His piercing gaze finally made you realize it was unacceptable to gawk at someone like this, and you averted your eyes, feeling your cheeks growing hot. The cosplayer chuckled at your reaction.

“I’m so sorry!” You muttered, clenching the fabric of your jacket. “I just- ugh, I mean, your cosplay is stunning!” Now that you said it, you were just too humiliated to add anything. Why couldn’t you be like all other people who didn’t harass the poor guy with them staring? Of course, no one would be comfortable with some creepy girl watching over them.

But the guy didn’t look worried or embarrassed even the slightest bit. When you saw his face, you realized he was amused as he looked at you with a grin on his face. Now you even felt a little scared because there was something animalistic in his gaze.

“Thank you. I was spending day and night crafting this costume.” He was smiling, and you realized he was probably playing the role of Loki now.

Oh damn, of course. Being a cosplayer meant not only wearing a costume of your character but being this character, behaving like them, speaking like them, sometimes even moving like them. This guy was doing exactly this, and, to be honest, he was really good at acting since for a minute you believed he wasn’t just a mere human.

“I’m sure you will be the winner of the contest this year.” You smiled shyly at him, still embarrassed at your behaviour earlier, and the guy laughed at you a little. God, you felt so terribly awkward.

“Thank you. If my brother won’t show up, I’m sure I’ll have a chance.” For a second you thought there was something bittersweet in his eyes, but then it was gone, and the cosplay rose to his feet, shining in the electric light of the subway. “This is my stop. Have a good day, my lady.”

Of course, you barely nodded at him, felling like you’re gonna explode from the way he called you and how the guy bowed his head a bit at you as if you truly were some Asgardian goddess. Minutes later you would curse yourself for being so stupid to not even ask his cosplayer’s nickname – how on Earth were you going to find his profile on Facebook now? Since you were in the middle of a new marketing campaign, your boss would never let you leave tomorrow to visit Comic Con, and that was your only chance to ever see that amazing guy again.

Ugh, living with that useless brain of yours was quite a challenge.

You had already bid farewell to the cosplayer since you knew meeting him by chance again in a city as big as Berlin was impossible – especially if without his costume and wig and makeup the guy would be unrecognizable. The next evening you were sitting in the train just like all other evenings when you were coming late from work, a bag with a chicken sub in your hands along with an already cold cup of tea. You sighed, thinking of Comic Con and all the fun people were having there. Damn, next year you would definitely take a short vacation to finally visit the convention. Maybe you would have a chance to meet that mysterious guy again.

“It smells nice.”

You immediately raised your head, staring at the cold blue eyes of the guy you met yesterday’s morning. He was still wearing his horned helmet and shining golden armor, the Scepter in his hand. He sat close to you again, and you suddenly found the courage to smile at him widely. God, it was happening. He was really here, with you.

Was he coming back from Comic Con? You thought they finished way later, but maybe he was just tired to spend the whole day in this outfit – you could imagine how heavy it was – and left earlier. You couldn’t blame him, thinking of how many people probably wanted to take a photo of him during the day, too, and it was definitely tiresome as hell to pose in front of tons of people for hours.

“Would you like some?” You handed him your paper bag. “It’s a sub with chicken. I haven’t opened it yet.”

“Ah, it’s a very generous offer. It would be rude of me to decline it.” His smile sent chills down your spine, but you reminded yourself he was still playing his role. Anyway, what could he do? Follow you to your apartment in this outfit? Seriously? He would be stuck in the hallway with those horns of his.

You watched like the Loki-guy took a half of your sub and returned the other half to you, then taking a bite and chewing slowly. To your delight, he nodded, telling you he liked it without words, and you chuckled at him. Now he looked almost cute with his puffed cheeks as he kept biting more and more. Apparently, the sub wasn’t bad, and you dug in it enthusiastically, caring little for a few other passengers. No one was looking at you two, anyway.

Halfway through finishing his part, the guy stared questioningly at your paper cup of tea, and you smiled at him with confusion.

“You can have it, too, but it’s already cold, sorry.”

Now he was grinning like a Cheshire cat. Did he think it was funny? Was it because he thought real Loki would find it funny? You were too confused but decided not to ask. You looked silly enough yesterday when you were gaping at him with wide eyes. No more of this today! You couldn’t blow it if you wanted to ever see the guy again.

“It’s quite alright. Let me help you.” He carefully lowered his seidr so it touched your cup, and in the next moment you saw a soft blue glowing surrounding it. It was coming directly from the Scepter, and you literally opened your mouth while staring at it wide-eyed. Wait, did this guy put something inside the seidr? Like, a light bulb or something? God, it was beyond your imagination!

But before you started throwing questions at him, you suddenly saw a wisp of steam coming from your tea and felt how the cup grew hot in your hand. Oh shoot, it definitely wasn’t just some light bulb! His Scepter was a real machine!

You probably looked like a little kid, your eyes shining and jaw dropped at the sight of something that looked like a miracle to you, and Loki-guy chuckled softly. He was seemingly content with your reaction as you even sniffed your tea a little bit to feel it really was hot again. But when you brought the cup to him, thinking he wanted to drink, he gently refused it.

“Thank you, but you have already given me enough.” His smile was much softer, and your cheeks grew hot again at his kindness, though it was you who shared your food with him. Strangely, it was like this stranger had some effect on you, and you smiled back at him, lowering your head to have a sip of tea.

However, the next moment the guy furrowed his brows, looking somewhere behind you, and you saw him lifting his seidr again, pointing at something behind your back. You missed his concerned gaze, but not noticing the blinding light coming from the Scepter was absolutely impossible – for a second you almost lost your eyesight, squeezing your eyes shut and clenching the paper cup in your hand. What was that?! But before you got truly scared, the light had disappeared, and all you saw was that Loki-guy sitting close to you with a piece of chicken sub wrapped in a napkin in his hand. His Scepter looked the same as before, no blue glowing coming from it. Wait, you didn’t imagine this blinding light, did you? It was here just a second ago!

As you tried to turn back to see what was happening, the stranger suddenly stopped you, his warm hand on your shoulder as he leaned closer to you, smiling, “Your tea is going to be cold again.”

“Yes, b-but-“ You gawked at him and then stared at his seidr, unsure what to say. “I-I mean, have you seen that light? Did it come from this thing?”

You heard someone behind you letting out a sudden scream and smelled metal and plastic melting. It was disturbing enough as it was, but then you realized you smelled the burning flesh searing from someone’s bones.

The Scepter. The guy’s resemblance to the Asgardian God of mischief. Shit.

Before you tried turning again to see what was left of the seats behind you, Loki’s grip on your shoulder became painfully strong. You watched him leaning even closer to you in slow motion, the world around you slowing down as the man whispered to you in a dangerously low voice, “Don’t look back. You don’t want to see what is left of that creepy man who was staring at you all the time, do you, dear?”

Frozen on the spot, you barely nodded, your eyes not leaving Loki’s pale face as he smiled, letting go of your shoulder and touching your arm surprisingly gently instead. You heard the sounds of crying and whining, people around you scattering to the different part of the car to be as far as possible from a man in the horned helmet. But you just couldn’t move from your place, glued to your seat, an Asgardian God looming over you.

“I am grateful for you sharing your meal with me. I’d like to thank you properly,” he said softly, and you swallowed your tongue instead of letting out a loud scream. “Let’s leave on the next station. I know a few nice places in Mitte.”

___________________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @void-hoechlin @abyssaint @heeeyitskay @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight

#loki x reader #loki #loki laufeyson #loki layfeyson x reader #dark loki #dark loki x reader #yandere #loki of asgard

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ahedderick · 4 years

Photo

Second weekend of March; much to do around the farm. My husband brought home a load of bark mulch which I am going to try to spread on the flowerbeds without wrecking my bad shoulder. Fingers crossed.

I dug up a clump of tightly-compacted snowdrops at my father’s yesterday, and they’re going to get spaced w-a-y out and planted here today. There were something like 50 tiny bulbs in a clump the size of my hand. I’m well aware that transplanting them while they’re blooming isn’t ideal but 1) spring bulbs like this are incredibly tough and 2) when they’re blooming is literally the only time I will ever notice them or think about them. It has worked in the past, so *shrug*

While the snowdrop bulbs were going into the flowerbeds, wild garlic was coming out. Some folks call these wild onions, instead, but the flavor profile is Very Garlicky and that’s how I use them in cooking. I’m going to clean these up, chop them, and fold them into some softened butter to put on biscuits this evening.

#farmblr #yard work #flowers #white flowers #spring flowers #spring planting #naturecore #cottagecore #wild food #harvest #garlic

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thevibrationofatoms · 3 years

Text

I planted purple crocus bulbs around the apple tree last night.

It was done by the light of the nearby street lamp, kneeling on the cooling ground and peering at each bulb to make sure they were the right way up as I dug and shoved them into the ground.

Time had gotten past me in the rush of life, and I lost track of how it trudges on. Yesterday morning I saw a beautiful day and had the urge to do the winter-prep garden chores I'd been putting off. I went and got bags and bags of aged, perfectly rotted compost with a coupon and on a whim, bought a variety of bulb flowers that were 70% off.

I realized they were marked so low when the wind picked up outside the garden center in a clear warning of an incoming front. The day was warm and the wind had a bite of winter sweeping in, and I realized that the bulbs I bought needed to be in the ground and covered tonight.

My time management is never great. Sunset was in two hours.

So I cleared beds and grumbled at myself and spreading compost and straw mulch. I ended up finding bunches of garlic slips and added another hour to my time separating them out to spread and bury for the winter so that I could have garlic next year, even though I forgot to buy seed bulbs like I had planned.

So as I spread iris and tulips in various beds, I took the purple crocus' to the apple tree I'd already blessed for Dionysus. It gave it's first fruit this year and half were eaten while the other half was aging as hard cider in my basement. The crocuses seemed a fitting offering. they're delicate looking little flowers that need the hard bite and cold of winter, and are often the first to pop up through the snow while everything else lies quiet.

I made them into an offering as a thanks for the inspiration to garden this morning, the imperative to reset myself to the movement of the year and enjoy the changing of a season. I piled mulch around the apple tree roots and buried all the bulbs under a blanket of decaying plant matter and wished them a good sleep.

Most of my garden is practical. I grow food and fruits and the flowers are specifically picked for attracting native pollinators that keep the food beds productive.

The tulips and crocus' were an impulse. They have no real use and aren't huge attractors for bees, though maybe some early risers will appreciate them. But they are beautiful. They're for pleasure and pleasure alone. These bright points of color wouldn't survive outside of my beds with the mulch to keep them warm and cultivated soil. It's work to keep them beautiful, but I still planted them because purple is my favorite color.

Time goes on and does it's work. Death and cold and bitter snows feed into the life that needs it. And sometimes we need to put work into something just because it's existence in the future will bring a purely human pleasure.

#devotional #are you crying about flowers again #THE TINY FAUNA NEEDING COLD AND DARK TO BRING COLOR IN THR FUTURR AND THE HUMAN CULTIVATION OF BEAUTY FOR ITS OWN SAKE GOT TO ME

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justkurotingz · 4 years

Text

lucky to have him (spencer reid x reader)

this was my first request from one of my favorite people 🥺🥺 i absolutely love this request and hope i did it justice for your sake @ciarawriitesmarvel <333 it gets fluffy in the end, i promise 😭😭😭

“I was wondering if you would write a little something where Spencer and the reader have both been captured by an unsub and both won't let the unsub hurt the other, so just protectiveness all round!”

so i got the unsub idea from AO3 LMAO although i forgot which fic it was so if anyone knows PLEASE tell me so i can credit them <333 the reader is a person of color :))

warning: little graphic descriptions of torture and some swearing

word count: 1.8K

you woke up with a dizzying groan, taking in the room you were in. it was dark with no windows and had a faint smell of mildew. almost like a basement. sitting up slowly, you blinked, glancing at the iron bars the separated your room from the other one, that was practically identical to yours.

the events of yesterday came rushing back to you in a flood. the unsub, bryan white, serpent hills, spence.. you gasped as you stood up, making your way over to the bars. “spence?” you called at the unmoving body lying on the ground. “spence.” you groaned, letting out a breath as his body twitched. “y/n...” he whispered, rolling over to face you.

“where are we?” “i think it’s bryan’s basement.” you whispered back, and he crawled over to you, checking your face for any injuries. “are you ok?” his eyes were cloudy with concern and you gently squeezed his hand through the bars. “i’m ok, are you?” he nodded and the two of you got to your feet, stretching out and observing every corner of the room.

“y/n and spencer! my two favorite people. i must admit, you two did a wonderful job going undercover. as you already know, interracial couples disgust me, i’m so glad you two are undercover feds. i won’t have to kill you after all, just inconvenience your day. which is fortunate because i really like you y/n. sadly you’re just a bit too dirty for a pure white male like me.” he chuckled.

the rage that filled your body subsided the second spence squeezed your hand. “it’s not worth getting mad. we can’t let him know we’re together, he’d kill us y/n. hotch must realize something’s wrong. they’ll come for us. we just have to hold on.” you nodded, holding onto him with all the strength you had left.

“bryan.” “hey y/n.” he smirked, walking towards your cell, unlocking the door and stepping in. in his hand was a old chess timer, blood stained around the buttons and your stomach dropped. the knife in his hand glinted underneath the bulb light he turned on.

“i’m sorry.” he said genuinely, then crouched next to you. “we’re going to play a little game. it’s simple, there’s only two rules. number one, the game has 5 rounds. the time you have to endure my torture each round goes up as you pass each round. i’ll be going back and forth between the two of you so you have time to heal.” he smirked, glancing at spence. “two, if you last longer than you have to in a round, the extra time will be shaved off the next one. we’ll start easy, the first round is 30 seconds.” he set up the clock and positioned it so you could press the button to stop your clock with ease.

“what are you going to do to her?” spence’s voice was calm, but you could hear the panicked undertones. “nothing much. yet.” your scream filled spence’s ears as he dug the knife into your arms.

“stop! stop it! let me take it! DON’T HURT HER!” spence screamed, thrashing along the bars as you sobbed, blood pooling underneath your arm. the pain was torturous, but the sting of the knife returning to old wounds hurt more.

10....5......0... his clock stopped and he smiled in pleasure. “y/n come on. stay strong. you can do this, i’m so so proud of you.” spence encouraged you, and you knew he was crying. “you son of a bitch.” spence spat, eyes dark in anger.

“stop. please stop.” you pressed the button, panting hard. “it hurts.” you cried and spence reached out to squeeze your hand. “come on y/n. we’ll get through this, i’m so so proud of you.” “me too, you lasted a whole minute and ten. that’s a new high record.” bryan smirked at you and you moaned weakly, clutching your injured hand.

“onto pretty boy here...” “don’t hurt him. please don’t hurt him.” you begged, holding onto to bryan with the strength you had left. “do you have another idea?” he smirked down at you and you nodded. “please, use my extra time to skip round one for spence. just skip to round two.” you begged and he raised an eyebrow.

“that isn’t part of the rules sweetheart.” he teased and spence banged on the bars. “DO NOT LISTEN TO HER! I’LL DO MY ROUND, PLEASE DON’T HURT HER!” bryan looked at spence and back at you. “this is a very interesting position to be in right now. unfortunately, neither of you are in a position to beg, so i’d suggest you shut up. y/n, i’ll take you up on your suggestion... however round two for you is going to be a minute and a half instead of a minute. well, a minute and 20 seconds, using the remaining ten seconds of your time.”

“BRYAN PLEASE LET HER HAVE HER TIME! ILL GO THROUGH ROUND ONE!” “no can do spencie-boy.” bryan teased and spence sunk to the ground, reaching out to hold your hand. “oh y/n. please don’t try and save me. please don’t put yourself through this.” he begged and you gently traced a heart on his hand so bryan wouldn’t notice.

“spence i’d gladly take this for you. you’re my best friend.” bryan paused, looking between you and spence before deciding there was nothing more between you two. “onto round 2 y/n. i must say, you’re one of the most selfless people i know.” “y/n, you don’t have to do this.” spence begged and you shushed him. “i’m ready.”

you screamed as he started on your legs, humming as he carved. you thrashed, sobbing in and out of consciousness as your arm started to bleed as well. spence turned away, surely crying because he couldn’t watch. “spence. spence.” you begged, screaming as another round of pain ensured. you watched the clock tick by, seconds seeming like centuries.

but this time, you couldn’t endure any more, and as soon as time ran out on his clock, you pressed yours. “disappointing, but not surprised.” bryan withdrew the knife, cleaning it off on your body. “can’t save him anymore.” he leered at you, crossing over to spence’s cell as you lay there, breathing faintly.

you didn’t even realize when spence’s shouts of pain started but you weakly reached out to hold his hand. “fight it. don’t give in to the pain spence, don’t let him win.” you whispered, praying to god your team was going to rush in and save the day.

you couldn’t see spence’s clock, so bryan read aloud for you. “he’s hanging in there.” he said, slightly impressed. when spence finally gave in to the pain, he was at 1:45. “45 seconds overtime, that’ll come in handy for round three. both of you are so good at handling pain.” he hummed, cleaning off the knife and crossing back into your cell.

“please. please.” spence begged, his eyes closed and his hair matted with sweat and blood. “don’t hurt her. she can’t take anymore. I SAID DON’T HURT HER!” spence yelled, making bryan stop. “don’t tell me what to do.” his voice was low, deadly and you turned to spence, tears streaming past your ear. “i can take it. i can take it. i can- AH!” you screamed and spence shut his eyes tightly. “stop. please stop.” he repeated, and bryan paused. “actually...” he trailed off, scooping you up effortlessly and crossing over to spence’s cell, blood trailing behind himon the cement floor. “i want you to look in her eyes as she screams.” spence’s blood chilled, but he forced himself to look at you, squeezing your hand and brushing away your tears as you sobbed. “you’re so brave. you’re so brave y/n, you’re so brave.... stop, bryan STOP!”

“she’s unconscious!” bryan’s upper lip curled in disgust and he threw the knife down in rage. “that little-” “do me. do me instead, please just don’t hurt her anymore. give her time to heal, if she dies right now it’ll just be me. what’s the fun in that? i’m willing to take her place. just please don’t hurt her.” spence’s voice cracked as he took in your pale, unmoving body, the blood and the sweat, your closed eyes, your labored breaths.

bryan’s eyes flashed. “you two really aren’t best friends are you? i should’ve known.” he spat at your feet and spence found the strength to get up. “you racist son of a bitch. she’s my entire world.” before bryan could answer, the door flew open with a bang. “FBI! bryan white, you’re under arrest....” hotch trailed off, taking in the scene. jj stifled a gasp as she rushed to your side, and morgan grabbed bryan, slamming him into the wall. “you bastard.” he hauled him off upstairs. emily and rossi ran to spence, supporting him up the stairs, and hotch lifted you up, following them as jj brought up the rear.

hours later, you woke up safe and comfortable in a hospital bed. “spence?” you murmured and the people around you smiled. “he’s in the other room. hotch, dave, and jj are with him.” emily squeezed your hand and you glanced at morgan comforting a sobbing garcia. “penelope. i’m ok.” you opened your arms, painfully aware of the stinging. “i was so worried.” she cried into your gown and you smiled, stroking her hair.

“what happened?” “you were in bad shape kid.” you focused on morgan and smiled weakly. “the doctors got you all patched up. pretty boy too.” “i just want to see spence.” emily laughed, patting your hand and getting up to call for your boyfriend. a few minutes later, he walked in, rushing to hug you. “you’re ok.” he whispered, kissing your temple. “you’re ok.” you brushed his hair back, wrapping your arms around your neck as he kissed you. “we’re ok angel. we’re going to get through this.” you nodded wordlessly, your forehead leaning against his.

“i’m sorry.” he pulled back, eyebrows furrowed. “y/n you have nothing to apologize for.” “if i was not... you know....” you trailed off and spence’s face softened as he kissed his way up your arms. “please don’t ever apologize for having beautiful roots and such glowing skin. i love that you’re of color and that you teach me about cultures different from my own y/n. bryan is a racist bastard, we’re going to put this chapter behind in our lives and move on, ok? i’m right here, i’m not going anywhere.”

you fell asleep like that, a mess of tangled and throbbing limbs, his hands in your hair, stolen kisses and shared laughs keeping you up late. as you fell asleep, the thought that you were lucky to have spence struck you. and as you woke up in his arms, studying his sleeping face, you couldn’t agree more.

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crutchie-with-a-y · 4 years

Note

Hiya Sophie🥰 how are you? Could I please request Jack Kelly x reader where he’s being touchy and begging for them to love him but reader is busy with school so they don’t give him enough attention? And then Jack gets super quiet and when reader is done with hw, reader feels super bad about not giving Jack enough attention, they treat Jack with cookies they’ve made and talk about this and the two of them end up cuddling the whole night sharing sweet kisses. Jack lays his head on reader’s chest🥺

Hey! I’m doing pretty good, what about you? Thank you for the request! Sorry for the wait, I’ve been a little pre-occupied, but I hope this is something like what you had in mind! <3

“Haha, yeah we’ll see you later, Finch!” You laughed and waved as your friend said his goodbyes and turned down his street.

“Oh thank GOD he’s gone!” Your boyfriend, Jack, said as soon as Finch was out of earshot. You and him and about a dozen other friends always walked home after school together, one by one peeling off from the group as they reached their streets. Finch was the third to last to turn onto his street, which left you and Jack to walk the rest of the way to your homes, (which is actually how you started dating in the first place). Jack, who was usually happy to have friends around, had seemed restless to get away from the group today, and once he was positive Finch couldn’t see or hear you, he pinned you against the stone wall the two of you were passing on the sidewalk. He passionately kissed you and for a moment you completely lost yourself in his rough lips that tasted of cherry coke and the cigarette he had shared with Race at lunch. Then you reminded yourself that you had some homework to complete and a test to study for.

“Jack,” You gasped when he pulled back for air and began to nibble at your ear. “Jack, Jack I don’t have time.” Jack pulled back without removing his hands from where they held your wrists against the wall and squinted at you.

“What are you talking about?” You snapped your wrists forward and glared at him as you began to walk again, him following at your side with the same look on his face.

“I have homework.” Jack stopped completely and you turned back to look at him.

“The fuck you don’t,” Jack said, obviously pissed at you, and that was rare, so it made you pretty uncomfortable, you had to admit. “You finished your math in class, you told me at lunch. Your history project isn’t due for a literal month and you’re already almost done with your poster. You wrote this week’s homework essay for English on Monday night.” He walked slowly, listing everything off on his fingers.

“Well there is more math,” You said defensively, as the pair of you turned a corner onto your block.

“More math? What the-oh my god the EXTRA CREDIT PACKET?!” He looked at you like you were insane and you bit your lip and looked at the concrete. “Y/N, you’re a straight-A student. You don’t need the extra credit. And even if you still wanted it ‘just in case,’“ He imitated you as he followed you up the stairs to your front door. “You literally have all semester to turn it in, and it’s FRIDAY. It’s FRIDAY! Can we not just relax and do couple things for ONCE.” He said, turning around to look at you while you shut your front door behind you. You glared at him. He KNEW how important school was for you and how much you stressed about getting all your work in on time, why was he being so rude about it?

“I also have science,” You responded, pushing past him and into your dining room to pull your laptop and textbook out of your bag and set on the table. Jack loudly threw his bag on the table in front of you and headed into the kitchen.

“Please tell me your kidding,” He said, popping open a can of Pepsi. You flipped through your textbook pages angrily, upset that he didn’t seem to get it.

“No, I’m not kidding.” You said sharply, only turning to look at him once you’d said it, just able to catch the sad, exhausted look on your boyfriend's face. You felt guilty, but before you could apologize, his face hardened again.

“Y/N I WAS UP TILL 3 AM YESTERDAY HELPING YOU WITH YOUR SCIENCE PROJECT. HOW DO YOU HAVE ANYTHING ELSE TO DO?” He yelled, which made you shrink a little as you typed your password into your laptop, but then your blood boiled.

“YES AND I AM GRATEFUL FOR THAT, BUT THERES A TEST ON MONDAY-”

“ON MONDAY?” Jack stepped up on the chair next to you and sat on the table and closed your computer in an attempt to get you to look at him, but you just crossed your arms and stared at the logo on the top of your computer. “Y/N, please, you can study all weekend for that, when your parents get back? Cmon, right now we have a little alone time and I really need-”

“Everything to be about you?” You whipped your head up to look at him. His eyes looked hurt, but you weren’t going to take it back.

“No, I’m sorry, I just, I’m really-”

“Annoying.” You glared at him, and then it was Jacks' turn to shrink, but he didn’t boil back, and you felt a twinge of guilt. “Look, just, just give me an hour.” You opened your laptop back up while Jack slumped over, flicking his pop tab in defeat. After a few minutes of the “tingggggg” noise echoing in the quiet room, you reached over, without looking up from your screen, and placed your hand on top of his fingers to stop the flicking. You kept it their longer then you meant to, and Jack rubbed your knuckles with his thumb, lightly squeezing your hand. You pulled it away abruptly, and wouldn’t let yourself look at the heartbroken look on his face.

Awhile later your phone buzzed for what felt like the thousandth time from your laptop bag and you couldn’t take it anymore. You ripped your bag across the table and dug around for it in the front pocket.

“Why the hell do you keep calling me?” You said sharply into your phone.

“I was calling to ask you why the hell Jack has been active on Instagram for the past three and a half hours?” Katherine matched your tone on the other end. You pulled your phone back from your ear to look at the time and cringed when you realized how much you’d gone over your hour. Jack had walked off into your bedroom what you thought was a few moments ago but was actually two hours ago. You were still annoyed though, and Katherine being so nosy didn’t help.

“I don’t know, he just is,” You said snarkily. “I’m studying,”

“Your parents are out of town and you SERIOUSLY, SERIOUSLY are studying on a Friday night instead of spending time with your boyfriend?” She sounded shocked, and you didn’t appreciate her judgment.

“Look, Kath, I-”

“Especially after he got fired yesterday.” Your heart dropped.

“Wait, what?” You prayed that you had misheard her.

“Yeah, I guess he forgot to call in yesterday, so when he didn’t show up his boss told him to, and I quote, ‘not bother showing up anytime after that either.’“ Katherine explained exasperatedly. You wanted to vomit. “Wait, how did you not know about this?”

“Um, ahhh, I gotta go,” You said, standing up quickly and hanging up as you walked towards your bedroom. You slid your phone into the pocket of your jeans and lightly tapped the closed door to open it a smidge. Jack was sitting on your bed, on the phone with someone, his back propped up against the wall, looking out the window with his forearms resting on his knees which were bent up so his feet were on top of your comforter. You pushed your door open a little more to see that he had taken his shoes off so he didn’t get dirt on your bed, which he knew you detested. A small smile pulled at the edges of your cheeks; even who he was upset with you, he went out of his way to please you. He was so selfless. Your smile fell. And because of that selflessness, he had ended up sacrificing his job to help you out. You looked back at your laptops glowing screen in the dark dining room, the blue light reflecting off the cover of your textbook. School stressed you out so much. So, so much. You had always been a very good student, but a slight dip in your performance the semester before had lead to a stern talking-to from your parents that made you absolutely terrified to get anything lower than a perfect 4.0.

You looked back at Jack, who was still on the phone, flicking paint out from under his nails, oblivious to you in the doorway. He gets that, you thought to yourself. Jack understood the pressure from your parents and the immense fearful stress school put you under. Jack was always willing to be a supportive boyfriend, no matter how hard you made it.

“Oh yeah, no (he’s/she’s/they’re) busy studying right now. (He’s/She’s/They’re) really stressed about school,” Jack said into the phone. “Hey, hey, (his/her/their) parents are really strict and put on a lot of pressure, it’s not (his/her/their) fault. Besides, I’ve never seen you turn in homework once so shut up.” Oh my god, You thought, feeling yourself tear up. He was literally standing up for you over something that you had just argued about, and on top of it, he didn’t know you were watching him, so he did this out of sheer integrity. You let your guard down for a second and let out a loud sniff, and immediately darted behind the door, hoping he didn’t see you. He continued talking to whoever it was he was on the phone with, causing you to let out a sigh of relief. Then you just stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. You peaked around the door again, just as he started to laugh.

“Hahaha, yeah me too, I haven’t had dinner yet, I’m starved.” For a moment you felt even more guilty, knowing he was waiting for you to eat, but then you felt a light bulb click on over your head. You headed into the kitchen and began to quietly open and shut cabinets, gathering the ingredients you knew you would need to surprise Jack. Your boyfriend was often fairly mysterious, but one thing everyone could tell you about him was his obsessive and at times even frightening love of snickerdoodles. As you quietly dumped cups of flour into a bowl, you couldn’t control the small giggle that escaped your mouth as you remembered what an important role snickerdoodles had played in your relationship.

“You have some snickerdoodle crumbs on your lips,” Jack had said after diving into the cookies you had made for him on his birthday. But before you could reach for a napkin, he had stopped you. “Actually, let me take care of that.” And the next thing you knew you were having your first kiss with Jack Kelly.

You carefully pulled the pan of cookies out of the oven and slid them onto a plate. You clicked the oven off and picked up the plate, your hands protected by polka-dot oven mitts. You knew you should probably wait for them to cool, but you were too impatient. You walked over to your bedroom and bumped the door open with your hip. Jack’s phone call had ended awhile ago, and he was laying on his back on your bed, his knee propped to support the notebook he was drawing on with the stub of a pencil. He looked up when you walked in, and quickly set aside the drawing materials.

“Snickerdoodles?” He looked at the plate and then back up at you. “I always welcome humankind's best invention but what is the occasion?”

“A sincere apology,” You said, you had practiced what you were going to say while you were baking.

“Oh no, I’m sorry, you don’t have to-” Jack started, shaking his head.

“No, I do.” You said, setting the plate on your comforter and gesturing for him to take a cookie. “I was being a self-centered asshole, and for that, I am so deeply sorry.” Jack began to shake his head again as he slowly broke his snickerdoodle in half. “No, I was.” You said, sliding your hand under his chin and lifting it up so he was looking you in the eye. “I am so sorry about your job, Jack. That was completely my fault and I take full responsibility. I promise I will call your boss and try and talk him into taking you back, and if he won’t I will find you another job. A good one, that you like. I promise.” Jack set his cookie back on the plate and turned his head away and swallowed hard. You moved the plate to the floor and reached your arms around his shoulders to pull him closer to you.

“You are just so selfless. Truly, the sacrifices you make for everyone else, without a second thought amaze me. If you lost your job to help me with a science project, I cannot imagine the other things you have given up to make other people even the slightest bit happier.” You heard Jack choke into your shoulder, and you planted a soft kiss on his head. “You are the best person I know, Jack Kelly.” And with that, your boyfriend let out a broken sob and his shoulders began to shake as he cried. You slowly leaned back on your bed so that Jack’s head rested on your chest and his tears dripped onto your T-shirt. You rubbed his back and kissed his head, careful to be delicate. Eventually, his sobs stopped and the two of you sat in connected silence.

“Where are those snickerdoodles?” Jack sniffed. You laughed.

“They’re on the floor.” You lifted your arms so he could lean down and get them. He picked the plate up and set it up over your shoulder, grabbing the one he broken in half earlier. He kissed you sweetly before laying back down on your chest and nibbling on the cookie contentedly. You looked down at him with a warm smile on your face and in your heart.

“I love you, Jack.”

“I love you too, Y/N.”

#newsies #newsies fandom #newsies fanfiction #newsies fanfic #newsies imagine #broadway #jack kelly #broadway musicals #jack newsies #newsies jack #jack kelly x reader #jack kelly imagine #jack kelly fanfic #jack kelly fanfiction

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satsuki2406 · 4 years

Text

Dear Aomi Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

"I've seen you in a dream before, you are the warm and bright presence that embraced me on Cape Kamui a long time ago on a June afternoon."

Shinohara (Y/N) is a normal girl who had everything she could ask for, a loving family, a beautiful home, friends, and a fluffy cat. For a long time, she gave her life and happiness for granted, never imagining that she'll face one of the worst and crueler facades of society so closely, destroying what once was a happy, harmonious and normal family. One day, in hopes to recover what they lost, the Shinohara family took one of the more difficult decisions of their lives; leave behind their home back in Hokkaido and travel hundreds of miles south until Musutafu, the place that could grant them a solution and help close the yet fresh wound and scare away the ghosts of the past. Hardheaded, passionate, and ambitious (Y/N) is forced to confront the incarnated face of the superhuman society that she hated the most; Bakugou Katsuki.

PAIRING: (Bakugou Katsuki x Reader)

GENRE/WARNINGS: Romance, Fluff, Angst, Dark Themes, My poor attempt of humor, Strong language (Courtesy of Lord Explosion Murder 💥), Manga Spoilers, LONG ass chapter.

STATUS: On going

Chapter 1: School is a Great Place to Make Enemies

Chapter 2: My Stupid Classmate, The Angry Dandelion

Chapter 3:In Conclusion, This Day Was...

Masterlist \(￣︶￣*\))

4: Welcome to The Neighborhood

The salty breeze caressed (Y/N) face in a wavy motion mixing with the relaxing sound of waves crashing down the coastline. Along with her steady and calm breathing, those were the only things she could perceive in the endless darkness flooding her eyes.

‘A dream?’

Suddenly, her eyelids started to flutter little by little showing her a pretty familiar scenery. A long and meandering trail lay was in front of her, surrounded by the expanse of an endless blue sea. An old wood railing was the only thing shielding (Y/N) from a deadly fall to the humongous rocks nested around the rocky and long structure.

‘Cape Kamui? Again? Why do I keep dreaming of this place?! I haven’t been here in years! Do I miss my old home so much that my brain continues to bring me here? But, it looks so real…’

All of sudden, with the corner of her eye (Y/N) caught the silhouette of someone in the distance, they were with their back turned to her looking at the scenery without a care. That right there was new. This had become a recurrent dream since she moved, but in all the other occasions (Y/N) was there by her own, not a single soul was there, and now an unknown presence awaited ahead.

‘Should I talk to them? Well, I guess is worthed a try.’

With vacillating steps, (Y/N) walked forward to the mysterious entity, as she started to move along the slightly narrow path. Suddenly the wind became more and more agitated as she advanced, her hair moved haphazardly blocking her view frequently. Soon walking became more difficult forcing her to stay still, tightly gripping the railing. The blue and clear sky over her became gray and clouded.

‘What the hell?! Maybe if I try to-’

“E-Excuse me!” You shouted. “Do you know what is happening? I-I haven’t seen you here before! Do I-do I know you?!”

The inexplicable being seen to haven’t noticed (Y/N)'s attempts to make contact, but now she could catch a certain detail that had ignored before while trying to keep herself steady in the implacable bursts. The perimeter around this enigmatic character remained intact the whole time, even the portion of sky over them lingered cloudless and immaculate. The breeze swayed delicately what at your current distance seems to be a white sundress.

‘So, it’s a girl’

Abruptly a blaring sound started to resonate in (Y/N) head, she tried to cover her ears with her hands to no avail. Gradually her vision began to blur and a heavy sensation of falling invaded her body. Unexpectedly everything became black until-

“OUCH!!”

Once again, (Y/N)’s world took a 180-degree change of scenery, a more uncomfortable and painful one per se. There she laid on her bedroom floor, upside down, hair scattered, ungracefully contorted with her legs dangling over her head in something similar to a pretty messy plow yoga position.

(Y/N) blinked still sleepy and confused trying to remember what was going on before she ended up like this, but unfortunately, her abrupt awakening seen to had blurred her memory. All of sudden (Y/N) was brought back from her stirred thoughts as a soft knock was heard on her door.

“Honey are you-oh my! What happened to you?!” (Y/N) mother quacked as she entered your room, her face contorted in concern. “Here, let me help you, darling, I don’t think that position could be good for your back”

“O-Ok, thanks”

After her mother helped her to stand up again, (Y/N) decided to take a quick shower to relax and clear her mind. Now, more awaken and changed in her uniform she was sitting in her vanity stool absentmindedly brushing her hair trying to recall what kind of dream she had last night.

“It will be best if I stop to think about that, I’m gonna get a migraine, it was just a dream, no biggie.”

Once detangled, (Y/N) proceed to think how she would like to style her hair or just use it loose as always. “I don’t want to tie it but I want something different.” Instantly a bulb lighted up over her head, from one of the front drawers she took out a thin light blue ribbon. She put it around her head like a headband and knot it in a little bow at the side of her head.

Content with her simple but cute look she took her already packed bag and proceeded to go downstairs to have breakfast. In her way to the first floor, (Y/N) caught the aroma of fresh pancakes and coffee.

“Smells good!” (Y/N) excitedly exclaimed once she spotted her mom coming out of the kitchen with a stack of pancakes and a bottle a maple syrup to place them on the table.

“I’m glad you think so! I put some chocolate chips in the batter just like you like it!”

“You are the best mom!~”

“Oh, darling I know it. Now sit down and eat you have to leave to soon” (Y/N) did as her mother said, who shortly joined her with her morning coffee on hand. Both of them thanked for the food and dug in.

“Oh, now that I remember! Yesterday I met our next-door neighbor!” (Y/N)’s mom chimed happily.

“Oh really? What did you talk about?”

“Oh, she was really nice and chatty! Her name is Mitsuki but I don’t remember her last name, was it, Bai? Bandai? Bando? Oh, this terrible memory of mine is getting worse and worse every day!” (Y/N)’s mom complained.

“It’s funny that we’ve already met all our close neighbors but them. It’s weird if you think about it.”

“I guess so, she also said that she has a son your age that also attends Aldera Junior High! Maybe you could start going to school together and become friends! Probably he’s as nice as his mom.”

“Hmm probably” (Y/N) said mind absently. “Hey, mom…” She whispered while putting down her cutlery. “Did-did the doctor answered something about- you know…”

Akari paused her fork holding a piece of pancake in mid-air in front of her open mouth, shock spread all over her face. She quickly composed herself and cleared her throat. “He told us it was a long process, you know a lot of tests, blood works, scans and so… he told us not to worry too much, all the necessary requirements were successfully fulfilled. Don’t worry darling, everything would be ok; we have to be faithful.” (Y/N)’s mom reassured her as she squeezed her hand.

“I know but, I’m just… scared.”

“I know baby, I know.”

🏫🚲🏃🏻‍♀️

“I’m leaving now mom!” (Y/N) exclaimed from the front door as she put on her shoes at the genkan. “Alright, sweetie! Are you bringing your bento? Your handkerchief? Your pencil-case? Your toothbrush? Your phone? Your pouch with all your ‘lady necessities’?

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, and yes.”

“Ok! Please take care and if anything happens call me immediately and I’ll go to pick you up. I have a meeting with a potential meat and seafood distributor for the new restaurant today but I’ll have my phone with me all the time at full volume.”

“Alright mom! Ittekimasu!”

"Itterasshai darling!"

After locking the door and taking her bike (Y/N) exited her house through the short gate door at the front, but stopped midway when her ears caught what sounded like a heated discussion next door, but the loud argument wasn’t the problem, it was one of the voices involved; an annoying, loud and really familiar voice to be exact.

‘No way…’

“I’m warning you Katsuki! Take your fucking lunch or I’ll personally deliver it to you, at school, in your classroom, in front of all of your classmates!”

“You wouldn’t dare old hag!”

“Oh, but I would! I didn’t wake up at fucking five in the morning to make a bento that you’ll refuse to eat! Now take it!”

“Piss off!”

*SLAP!*

“Don’t hit me old hag! I’ll kill you!”

“Don't you dare to talk to your mother like that you ungrateful brat!”

‘Nice my ass! What made my mom thought that this woman could be nice in the first place?! She’s shouting at her son in the middle of the street like a madwoman at 7:30 in the morning because he doesn't want his bento?! What is this?! Crazy Town?!’

“I already told you a thousand fucking times to stop making this shitty bentos! I’m not seven anymore! Not my problem that you are an old hag that can’t remember shit!

“What did you say?!’

“You heard me!”

‘I was lucky yesterday because I left earlier and he must walk to school so the chances to run into him were slim. Damn! Now I’m gonna have to wake up earlier to avoid him?! Fuck you, Bakugou! Why in heaven did he have to live next door?! Now I understand why the house was cheaper than it should have, the realtor said the former owner had trouble selling it because of the size and the prize, hah! What a joke.’

“Enough of this, I have to go before he notices me, I can get ahead faster so I won’t see him until I get to the class. Yes! Now all I have to do is walk away really slowly-”

(Y/N) put her escape plan in action immediately, moving as fast and quietly as she could even lifting the bike a little bit so the sound of the chain wouldn’t forewarn them of her presence. After a short but cumbersome trail, 2 houses away from hers (Y/N) hopped on her bike more than ready to cycle with all her might directly to the school when another voice resounded at the distance.

“(Y/N)! You forgot the bag with your P.E uniform!” Exclaimed Akari while she held the said bag for (Y/N) to see it clearly.

‘FUCK! No! No! Calm down just take the stupid bag and run! Yes! You can do it!’

(Y/N) pedaled at high speed towards her mother with an only goal in mind, ‘retrieve and flee’ Just a little bit more and she could make a clean escape. Just two feet more!

Putting all her skills on display (Y/N) did her best to balance herself on the bike with only one hand on the rudder while she extended her right hand as much as she could, ready to snatch the bag and leave for dear life.

‘Just a few inches more! Yes! You can do it! Just keep pedaling! Just keep!-’

“Oh! Akari-san! I thought I heard your voice!” Mitsuki beamed as she leaned out of her house entrance while she dragged her temperamental scion by the ear.

‘Son of a biscuit!’

“Let me go you shitty hag!”

“Watch your damn language brat! Can’t you see our lovely neighbors are here too!”

“Like I care for those extras! Let me go! I’ll be fucking late!”

*SMACK!*

“Stop with the fucking hitting!”

“Stop screaming!”

“You stop screaming!”

“Oh, isn’t this neighborhood lively, darling?~” Chimed Akari smiling amusedly at the scene in front of her.

“Aha…” (Y/N) petrified by her side, all willing to live left her body already.

‘I hate my life…’

“Oh! Bakugou!” Said Akari while she bumped the side of her fist over her open palm “Mitsuki-san’s last name is Bakugou!”

“And why couldn't you ‘ve remembered this important piece of information, I don’t know, like thirty-five minutes ago mother?” (Y/N) groaned.

“Oh, you know I’ve always had a bad memory, but I always end up remembering everything at the right time” Akari giggled. (Y/N) simply sighed for the umpteenth time that morning.

‘I’m exhausted already’

After a couple of minutes of bickering, the interesting ‘shoutversation’ mother and son had come to a halt when Mrs. Bakugou strongly hit her son’s head pushing it down in a bow like position.

“Oh, Akari-san! I’m so ashamed that you had to witness this! Katsuki can be a handful sometimes!” Said the blond woman with a dismayed expression.

'Just sometimes?'

“Oh, don’t worry!” Said (Y/N)’s mom waving her hand dismissively. “Teens are usually more temperamental, especially at this age. (Y/N) is not always a ray of sunshine, you know how hormones are.

“Mom!” (Y/N) exclaimed embarrassed, making the older blonde’s attention go from her mom to her, acknowledging her presence. The female Bakugou’s expression went from pensive to surprised, to excited to hopeful all in a matter of five seconds.

“Oh my! you must be (Y/N)-chan! Your mother has told me a lot about you! I’m Bakugou Mitsuki, but you can call me Mitsuki! This is my son, Katsuki! He goes to the same school as you! Katsuki say ‘hi’!” Said Mitsuki with a cheery voice.

*UNINTELLIGIBLE GRUMBLES*

“I SAID SAY ‘HI’ KATSUKI!!”

“OH MY FUCKING-! Hi or whatever!” sneered the seething blond.

“Umm… hi…” After her court response Katsuki seemed to tense slightly, like he just fogured out something. He then slowly rose his head and his wide, bloodshot eyes met (Y/N)’s unfazed yet irritated ones.

“THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE THIEF BITCH?!”

*SLAP! x3*

“KATSUKI YOU DISGRACEFUL PUNK! APOLOGIZE THIS INSTANT!”

“Make me old hag!!!”

*SLAP! x6*

“So help me Katsuki! I will take away all of your phone, Wi-Fi, and PS privileges!”

“I wanna see you try! And why should I apologize?! This shitty thief used her fucking quirk on me yesterday! If anyone should apologize, it's her!”

“Ha! Knowing you, you must have deserved it for sure!”

“Da fuck?!”

“I told you to stop with the fucking swearing!”

“You stop with the fucking swearing!”

‘Oh God help us all’

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fgodestinyawakenings · 3 years

Text

FGO Destiny Awakenings: CDD #4

Once again surprisingly, this isn't dead! And a perfect time to release with the banner out of a certain sussy moth! Remembers guys, simp for your waifu/husbando healthily! Lest you wanna be catfish by them...

Author Note's: Some context may seem normal, but those who reached the Solomon Singularity will notice there are some things of that finale taken into here!

For a certain idol's appearance, please just immediately refer to Prototype Merlin for your reference. Those who haven't reach Solomon Singularity yet, I'll say she's the closest thing I think of on the idol's appearance. And for those completed Solomon Singularity, you already know why I'm using her appearance

Ritsuko: My brother has been in the infirmary for a while now… Ritsuko: Do you think they’re… Ritsuko: Making out?! *Cut to Romani and Ritsuka in the Doctor's room holding a Magi*Mari light stick and waiting for the next livestream Ritsuka has missed out to start* Romani & Ritsuka: This is gonna be so sick!!

-- Meanwhile during the training lesson for Magecraft on Ritsuko's end

AO3 || Fanfiction.net || Ritsuka & Ritsuko's Profile

Ex-idol otaku simp for idol again by another idol Otaku

“Hmm, hm, hmm~!” Along the corridor towards the infirmary, Ritsuka hummed to a cheery tone with Fou resting on his shoulders.

“Fou?” The white squirrel creature tilted his head while observing the raven-haired Master’s right fist. When he clenched his fist closed, a blue light lit up, opening to display a small pebble. Then he closed and repeated the same trick to open and showed a golden key.

“Fooou….?” Each item projected from his hand showed both interests yet curiosity to Fou. He tipped his head as the right hand now opened to reveal a small candy Ritsuka remembered with nostalgia. Unable to bear it any longer, Fou squeaked for his attention, “Fou!”

“Hm?” Blue orbs noticed Fou’s own purple gazing at him, later back at the projected candy. An apologetic grin curled on Ritsuka’s lips. “Oh, sorry for ignoring you, Fou.”

Followed the white squirrel’s gaze, Ritsuka concentrated with both eyes and right hand closed for a second. He opened after the blue light faded, his fist revealing a small rubber duck toy. He gave a few squeezes to produce out squeaky noises. The raven-haired Master showed a slight grin, “I’m just practicing on what Sadakuni-san told us yesterday.”

“Fou foooou fou!”

“Right, this wasn’t what I’m supposed to be working on….” Ritsuka expressed an uncomfortable grin on Fou’s cry. He dug out from his pants pocket, showing a small bronze coin to him. “We’re expected to be doing more practice on strengthening today.”

But an exasperated sigh left the raven-haired Master’s lips upon remembering.

“Still, it’s partially my fault in forgetting I owe Doctor Roman a checkup….”

Before Sadakuni showed up to train, Mash mentioned to them off-hand that Romani would announce their first mission soon.

And expected, spending the entire night studying the library books of magic and Arthurian history….

“Kyuu!” Fou squeaked as though seeking to cheer his guilt away.

Ritsuka returned with a slight smile, lifting his free hand to rub Fou’s chin, which nuzzled against his cheek. “Sorry about this, Fou. I made Mash and Ritsuko unnecessarily worry about having you come with me. Let’s get this over so that we can head back to the lesson.”

Fou shifted to the hand, caressing his chin to purr, “Kyuuuu…. Fooou…..”

Soft chuckling slipped from Ritsuka’s lips, seeing how Fou enjoyed his touches. However, an idea came into his mind, “Oh!”

“Fou?” Fou’s face written with puzzled expression, seeing the raven-haired Master pulled back his hand away. Both pairs of arms stretched outwards, showing both palms opened before them. His right hand holding the bronze coin. The other held nothing.

Noticed at the increasing interest, Ritsuka simply suggested to his furry companion, “Look carefully.”

“Fou…”

The raven-haired Master brought both arms to his back. He shrugged his shoulder to ease his tense muscle from devoting the night to work out plausible ideas of Mash’s possessing Servant’s True Name. After bringing both fists forward and turned over, Ritsuka prompted. “Which hand is holding the coin, Fou?”

Small white pointed ears twitched as Fou’s purple orbs examined to pick out any hints of the raven-haired Master’s act. After sniffing in the air a few times, he went towards the left fist and tapped with his paw. “Fou!”

Ritsuka opened his left fist to expose the familiar bronze coin. However, the coin instantly vanished before Fou, alarming him in surprise as the Master proclaimed. “Bzzt, wrong one!”

“Fou?!” Disbelief was written on the white squirrel creature’s face. He scurried from Ritsuka’s arm and shoulder to his right fist and squeaked, “Fou, fou!”

“You’re close too, Fou,” Yet again, when opened, the bronze coin on Ritsuka’s right fist vanished before Fou’s eyes.

“Fou?!” The white squirrel creature’s tail lift high at how shocked he was at Ritsuka’s trick again. He scurried to snoop through his right sleeve, going on the same as he moved to the left. Then Fou headed towards his shirt collar to search for the coin, yet… No matter high or low, it was anywhere to be found.

Another laugh slipped from Ritsuka at his furry companion’s attempt to investigate his whole body. He lifted one hand to Fou’s cape beneath and pulled out the familiar bronze coin. “Here we go.”

Fou halted his action upon seeing the coin. Purple orbs widened as he peered back and forth between his cape, the coin, and Ritsuka. “Fooou fou!”

Ritsuka gave a slightly amused beam to his confused furry friend and examined the coin. “Surprise, huh? I’m not an expert on actual magecraft, but magic reminds me of tricks like this. Brings back memories every year from elementary to high school; I would consistently do magic tricks. Be it school festival or anything, those times are so peaceful unlike now….”

Those days of hanging out after class with their school classmates, their holiday plans for Summer and Winter….

School festival preparations for Student Council and Classroom duties…

Last, studying for their final entrance examination for university… Then, he could—!

As those memories raced through his head, the raven-haired Master felt eyes on him. Turned over, he noticed Fou staring at him with an expression, wondering what weighed in his mind. Fou’s purple orbs furrowed reflected as the frown came on his lips.

With an assured yet melancholy smile, Ritsuka moved his hand to ruffle Fou’s fur. “Strange, isn’t it? That I’m thinking about the past… I’ll do whatever it takes to bring those times back. For ours and you guys too, Fou.”

“Fou, fou!” Fou squeaked to agree with his words.

Though, it implied to Ritsuka more that Fou loved the tickling, judging by the purring sound he made. While ruffling his head, Ritsuka’s smile switched to a peculiar expression upon noticing Fou. “Hmm…?”

It was Fou’s turn next to tilt his head with an odd expression when Ritsuka stopped his caresses. “Fou?”

“Now that I think about it… You looked kind of familiar…,” Ritsuka uttered.

“Kyuuu?”

Blue orbs narrowed to examine Fou on his shoulder. The familiar purple orbs filled with curiosity instead of sly mischief flickered from time to time. White fur on Fou’s head forming a similar hairstyle, Ritsuka felt he saw it somewhere once. Last, the white and light blue cape around his neck…

Like a light bulb turned on in his head, the raven-haired Master exclaimed knowingly. “That’s right! You looked just like Merlin!!”

Surprised transformed into fury, Fou’s ears twitched in rage.

He let out an irritated growl before biting Ritsuka’s hand, “Fooou, fou!!”

“Yeowch!” Ritsuka yelped and retracted his said hand as fast as he could. He shook it, wincing at the small reddish bit mark he received from provoking his furry companion’s wrath.

“Fooou, fou, fou! Kyuuuu, fou, fou!”

“W-W-Wait, I’m sorry, Fou! M-My mouth just blurts out on its own—!” When Ritsuka apologized with a panicked face, Fou’s glare only showed he added more oil into the fire. He raised both hands to calm his aggravated friend. “I-I’m really sorry, Fou-sama! I didn’t mean to compare you to him or anything at all!”

However, from the final hissing, Fou answered. He turned his head, and his tail moved to shoo away the bitten hand. Even another attempting to call his name, Fou returned with an annoyed grunt to express the Master to go away.

“Guess he’s a little despised by everybody in current times thanks to his own shenanigans…,” Ritsuka muttered to himself.

Hardly a wonder to him if the wizard’s mischief outweighed his good deeds in aiding King Arthur.

Even with good intentions, Merlin remained enigmatic to his behavior and motives.

Though, that’s an issue for later. Right now, the raven-haired Master shifted his head to Fou to bow, clamping both hands together. “I-I’m truly sorry, Fou-sama! I have my own reasons for why did I think of Merlin suddenly. Please hear me out!”

A nervous gulp swallowed down Ritsuka’s throat, waiting for the white squirrel to let him a chance to speak. What were hours actually literal minutes when Fou opened one of his eyes to peer at him.

Along with the frown on his mouth and ears perking high, Fou expressing to Ritsuka he’s willing to listen to his reason. The raven-haired Master breathed out a relieved sigh, “Um… Why I said you look like Merlin is because….”

Scanned in every direction to make sure it was both of them alone, Ritsuka leaned into Fou’s ear and confided. “I haven’t told Ritsuko or Mash, but…. I’ve seen and spoke to him in my dreams.”

The raven-haired Master’s revelation led Fou’s both eyes opened wide, looking at him with an absolute disbelief expression, “Fou?”

“Yeah, I’d like to lie about this. But three encounters suffice to suggest I’m not having hallucinations in my sleep,” Ritsuka nodded with a sigh. Then a shiver chilled his spine. He noticed Fou’s glare remained, if not severer than before. “I-I didn’t mean you and him are similar! Your appearance, that white fur, and cape of yours! You are way different from him, Fou-sama!!”

Even at his remarks, Fou remained skeptical. After staring at the raven-haired Master with doubt, he looked away. “Fou!”

“I’m truly, sincerely sorry, Fou-sama! It’s wrong for me to compare you with Merlin! You’re so much better and even cuter than that problematic wizard!”

“Fou, fou!”

“He’s even more pissed than before…,” Ritsuka winced at the sharp-pitched angry squeak. He held back his tongue; any further reference of Merlin would just add more oil. “Fou-sama, is there anything I can do to make you forgive me? It’s my fault blurting out like an idiot without considering your feelings, so please… I’ll do anything you ordered!”

The raven-haired Master attempted to bow his head to the white furry creature.

A silence enveloped between them as Ritsuka awaited a squeak from Fou.

Another minute afterward, a familiar squeak from Fou cried out to the Master.

“Kyu, kyuu…. Fou!”

“Fou-sama…?” Ritsuka opened his eyes to see Fou facing right at him.

The furry white tail wagged up down as the furry companion repeated its cry. “Foooou, fou! Fou!”

An eyebrow raised from the raven-haired Master, confirming his furry companion’s terms. “You want all the meat I have for our meal to give to you? Including the juiciest and crispiest ones I picked?”

“Kyu, kyu!”

“Wouldn’t Mash worried about you over-eating—!” Ritsuka flinched at the hissing noise coming from Fou. He gulped before smiling nervously. “Sure, I promise. Thank you very much, Fou—I mean, Fou-sama!

“That’s right,” Raising a pinky finger to the white squirrel creature, the raven-haired Master suggested. “How about this? I’ll not merely offer you all of my meat, but also your favorites other than those. In return, will you keep this a secret from Mash and Ritsuko, Fou-sama?”

Stared at his pinky finger for a moment, Fou faced him with an odd expression. A wry smile appeared on Ritsuka as he clarified. “I wished to tell them, but that’s the last thing they should worry about. It’s a secret between you and me, or something like one of your blackmails, to force me to keep my promise.”

“Fou…,” Between his pinky finger and his smile, Fou detected there’s no hidden resentment but pure truth in his words. Eventually, he lifted his front paw to tap at Ritsuka’s pinky finger to trust his words. “Fou!”

Surprise flickered in Ritsuka’s orbs briefly, then giving his brightest grin, “Thanks a lot, Fou-sama!”

After Fou scurried back to sitting at the raven-haired Master’s shoulder, he resumed his trip towards the infirmary. On his left and right at each door, Ritsuka muttered to himself. “His office should be up ahead….”

“Right, here we are,” The simple green cross symbol showed the infirmary found at last for Ritsuka. He came to the black-colored intercom, pushing the notable silver button. “Doctor, it’s me, Ritsuka. I’m here for the check-up you asked me to last time.”

The raven-haired Master stepped backward and waited for Romani to open the door… As he supposed to. Silence only returned as the answer, be it any movement or any verbal communication. Ritsuka went to the intercom and called again. “Doctor Roman, are you in?”

“Kyu?” Fou tilted his head confusedly and stared back at the door.

Ritsuka huffed after his third attempt and decided. “Guess he must be out for a meeting. I’ll find him later. Let’s go back to the training, Fou-sama.”

Just as Ritsuka spun his heel after proposing, Fou leaped off from his shoulder when he’s about to go off. The raven-haired Master turned his head behind and wondered. “Fou-sama, what’s wrong?”

Scurried and stood in front of the infirmary door, the white furry creature turned back and squeaked. “Fou fou!”

“You’re saying he’s in?” The raven-haired Master repeated what he understood his companion while approaching. His blue orbs switched to the door, again to Fou. “Maybe, but he’s perhaps still asleep so–!”

When Ritsuka stepped closer towards Fou, the door before the pair slid open to reveal a pitch-black office. He widened his eyes briefly at the lack of security in maintaining the office shut. “Did he also forget to lock his office—Hey, Fou-sama!”

Fou ignored the calls from the raven-haired Master and dashed right inside. The latter followed his furry companions for a few quick steps before losing him in the dark. “Wait, Fou-sama!”

Before he made any step further, Ritsuka stopped to mull over.

From his rational side, it’s wrong to trespass into a room without permission, despite how friendly Doctor Roman was.

However, the same logical side was concerned with the dangerous possibility of robbery and assault.

The raven-haired Master concluded, carefully treading in and surveying the office. “Any day should be fine before our next mission… But, just to be sure….”

Except for the scattered paper and files on the work desk, no trespassers came and ransacked the office. Ritsuka made another step further but halted at the noise of clattering ahead of him. “Who’s there?!” Blue eyes sought to dart around in the darkness for a visible shadow in the office. Yet, Ritsuka’s gaze settled on a white hair-like shape behind the wall partition on the ground. He tipped his head and called, “Fou-sama…?”

No response from his furry companion as he approached, the raven-haired Master blinked his eyes to clear his view…. Instead of the hair-like shape, a recognizable set of matching white pants and shoes entered his vision.

Ritsuka’s eyes widened upon recognizing whom it belonged to, “That’s—!”

Rushed and spun over from the partition, the raven-haired Master’s heart sank in horror at the sight.

The familiar orange-pinkish-haired Doctor lying unconscious by his stomach on the ground.

His ponytail loosened into long, messy hair. Instead of his coat, a tight-fitting black shirt was worn.

“Doctor Roman?!” Kneeled on the ground, Ritsuka flipped him over carefully to have him lying on his back. He shook him to awake the Doctor while investigating any symptoms of injuries. “Hey, Doctor Roman! Are you okay? Doctor Roman!!”

“Mm…,” Romani’s groan swelled relief in Ritsuka’s heart.

Yet, it was temporary, as his groans also meant he could be in pain by his pale and weak-looking face. Ritsuka asked again while investigating for the cause of injuries. “Are you hurt? Where is the pain coming from?!”

Unfortunately, only more groans were emitted, and no apparent injuries on his body. Ritsuka glanced around in the room for Fou. But his furry companion was nowhere to be found. Teeth gritted in frustration at the disappearance, he switched back to the unconscious Doctor. “Hold on, I’ll get Sadakuni-san over—!”

GRRROWWWWLL

… He didn’t hear it wrong, right? Not when the loud rumbling noise of a stomach growling again in front of the raven-haired Master. After seconds of silence, his brain processed and uttered. “…. You are joking, right?”

“He fainted…. Because he’s been skipping his meals?!” Ritsuka would’ve facepalmed at the cause but put Romani’s arm over his shoulder to move him to a proper resting place.

Thankfully, the raven-haired Master located a sofa by the light from the entrance. And it was also where he found Fou sitting at the sofa’s arm of the far end. Once settling Romani down, he whipped his head to Fou. “Sorry, Fou-sama, can you stay here and look after Doctor Roman? I’ll bring him Emiya-san’s yesterday leftover food here!”

Leaving behind the two, Fou moved his head to stare at the said Doctor once the raven-haired Master ran out of the office. Fou shook his head exasperatedly at Romani’s now awaken with a dazed expression sitting in a slumped position. “Fou….”

-0-

Half an hour later, the now lit up infirmary filled with the noises of a person gobbling down their food hungrily.

Or rather, Doctor Romani devouring down every leftover cooking by Emiya to satisfy his empty stomach.

On the opposite side of the table, Ritsuka observed seeing the colors returning to the Doctor’s face. “How is it?”

“It’s good! Thanks for bringing in food over here, Ritsuka-kun.”

Romani exclaimed, gobbling down his meal faster than ever, whether his hunger or how delicious Emiya’s cooking was.

As he took a sip of his brewed green tea while breathing a relief sigh, the raven-haired Master made a wry smile. “Sure, but that was absolutely a shock when you’re lying down on the floor there. And if you’re still hungry, there are still more servings in the cafeteria.”

“Sorry, I have been swamped running around managing Chaldea. I’m glad you found me, or we’ll have more problems before your next mission.”

Ritsuka shook his head at the jovial answer from the orange-pinkish Doctor. He set down his cup and reminded, “Don’t neglect to eat to sustain your strength too, Doctor Roman. I’m positive that cakes and sweets alone aren’t enough, as much as you like them.”

“But you still can’t deny sugar is likewise needed to keep your brain functioning.”

Romani laughed assuredly that earned the young Master to nod and murmured thoughtfully in agreement.

His green orbs soon settled on a unique figure sitting on the table between him and Ritsuka. “Oh?”

Purple orbs staring in silence as though appraising the Doctor, the latter exclaimed in surprise. “Is… Is that the mysterious creature I’ve heard so much about?!”

Followed to the Doctor directing his gaze, Ritsuka grinned and answered, “That’s right, his name is Fou-sama.”

“Whoa, nice to meet you! Mash told me a lot about him, but I didn’t really think he existed….” Romani set down his one-quarter empty rice bowl aside to examine closer at Mash’s companion.

Holding back his laugh at Fou’s weird expression towards Romani studying in 360 degrees direction, the raven-haired Master added.

“Mash told me Fou-sama rarely approaches other staff in Chaldea aside from her, along with my sister and I.”

“I see, I see,” After nodding twice to Ritsuka’s remarks, an idea brightened inside Romani’s head. “Hey, why don’t I teach him some tricks?”

Lifted out his right white-gloved hand to the furry creature, Romani beamed to Fou. “Okay, shake hand. If you do it well, I’ll give you a snack.”

“… Fou!” Narrowed his eyes in irritation at the hand later to the crazy Doctor, Fou squeaked what seemed to be a sneer and looked away before leaping off the table.

Before he scampered out of the infirmary, Fou paused beside Ritsuka to squeak again, “Kyu, fou, foooouuuu!”

“Huh, what?!” After seeing the white furry creature rejected him and left, Romani dropped his head down in dejection. “He gave me a really pitying look and then completely ignored me….”

Ritsuka sighed, after understanding Fou’s message to head back to Mash for the umpteenth time, and casually reassured in a deadpan tone.

“It’s always better than pity for a corpse who died from skipping his meals at such a young and tender age.”

The doctor’s face winced at Ritsuka’s blunt comeback, then letting out a weak chuckle in hoping to deflect away from the now embarrassing encounter.

“A-Anyway, you mentioned you were searching for me, Ritsuka-kun?”

“Yes, I’m here for my overdue check-up days ago after you have told me to gain some rest,” Ritsuka answered.

“I see! Sorry for coming all the way here when you’re training from Sadakuni, Ritsuka-kun. Why don’t you take a seat there while waiting for me? I’ll finish up the meal soon as possible.” Romani gestured towards the empty white stool beside his office desk.

Ritsuka nodded and stood from his seat. “Sure. Hope you don’t mind me intruding your office.”

“It’s alright!

“Just don’t mess up the papers on my office table, Ritsuka-kun.”

Romani added to the raven-haired Master going to his desk before returning to his meal.

“Will do, Doctor Roman.” Pulled the white stool and sat down, Ritsuka pondered in his mind. “Between brittle and hardening… I should also try to make the coin shinier—!”

However, a worn brown hardcover leather book caught his attention before the raven-haired Master returned to his practice via hardening the coin.

A quick peep over to appease his interest, Ritsuka examined closer, inspecting the gold and silver patterns embedded on the spine and front cover.

“Was Doctor Roman reading before collapsing from his hunger?” The young raven-haired Master wondered to himself. When his blue orbs landed upon the large golden words embossed on the front cover…

“OH MY GOD, IT’S KING SOLOMON!!”

PSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Ritsuka’s abrupt and loud exclamation in the office caused the poor Romani to do a loud spit take while drinking down his green tea. Coughing noises followed with wheezing noises to clear his throat. He whirled his head over. “K-King Solomon?!”

“Yeah, King Solomon!” Ritsuka lifted the said book to bring it up into the doctor’s view. Blue orbs sparkled like a newly polished aquamarine gem, darting back and forth between the book and Romani. “Is this from Chaldea Library?! I didn’t realize there’s a copy of him in Chaldea here!! Gods, I’ve been searching for a specialized book about him everywhere, and I can’t believe they have it here!”

“O-Oh, so that’s what you mean…,” Romani muttered his own relief with his head turned aside unheard to the now excited Master.

He returned to see and chuckled with warmth at the giddy joyfulness radiating from Ritsuka.

“Yeah, the previous director has his own collection together with Mages Association and Atlas institute donated into our library.

“It’s helped to research and understand Servants summoned into Chaldea and the enemies we may face.”

“I see…!” The radiance in Ritsuka’s eyes shone more clearly as his eyes inspected the book.

“Then, they have many records for historical and mythology figures from the world throughout history?”

Stood from his chair, Romani headed to the sink to pick up the wet cloth and added. “Not all of them, but majority one’s established and record in human history. We can’t fit every single book in the library. So, there are some remains in the archives with their artifacts used as a catalyst for summoning.”

Nodded in understanding, Ritsuka returned with a bright smile.

“Hmm… Then, I’m glad Chaldea has a massive collection other than Arthurian legends I found in the library!”

Flipped open the book with love like a new treasure he discovered, the raven-haired Master paid his attention to the content page. Every utterance from his lips was with curiosity, amazement, and awe at what the King Solomon book covered.

Yet among all those emotions, they shared one point in common that made Romani stop cleaning his spitted-out tea. He turned back to the raven-haired Master and inquired in an unusual mindful tone. “…. Ritsuka-kun, do you like King Solomon?”

“Hm? Yeah, of course!” Ritsuka answered as though it was the most ordinary thing to him in the world.

He shut the book closed and hugged to his chest with much care, and faced Romani. “I love him the most, Doctor Roman! Or one of the many historical figures I admire, to be exact. His kind benevolence to his people made him decide to ask gods for wisdom on prospering his kingdom.

“It’s incredible that even when he was just a teenager, he’s giving everything he could to keep his father’s legacy.

“That’s why I’m so pleased I’m able to find more books about King Solomon to learn better about him.”

“Is… That so…?” Romani’s strange voice didn’t least discourage the pure admiration from the raven-haired Master.

The latter smiled and continued further cheerfully, “Not only him….

“Everyone in history and mythology is the best, too.

“Enkidu, a being created from mud, becomes more humane than anyone.

“Francis Drake, the pirate who circumnavigates the world….

“The world-renowned genius Leonardo da Vinci, Charlemagne twelve Paladins, King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table…

“Almost all historical characters I respected as heroes! To think of meeting any of them, let alone finding material of them, is a dream come true!!”

“I… I see…”

Finally caught onto the skeptical tone, Ritsuka’s eyes recognized the Doctor’s face perplexed with discomfort and other emotions he couldn’t decipher or understand why.

He cleared his throat and hastily apologized, “S-Sorry, just forget that. I got carried away suddenly…

“It’s not only uninteresting itself, but even strange that I’m spouting this for someone my age.”

And he didn’t need his sister to tease him with boring people about rambling about his interest. But Romani, who picked up the young raven-haired Master’s guilty tone, jerked him out of whatever thoughts he was deep in.

He let out a light-hearted, assuring smile. “Haha! Of course not. I’ve known a few who are interested in history. But, you’re the first person who worshipped and even like every historical and mythological person. It must be a dream come true, isn’t it?”

Ritsuka agreed with a wide grin. “You can say that again! I didn’t consider this job Ritsuko dragged me in allowed such a wonderful opportunity.”

Returned with another smile, Romani returned to clean his table. “So… What made you interested in history, Ritsuka-kun?”

Unbeknownst to him, Ritsuka let out a relieved sigh that the Doctor didn’t mind his ramble earlier. He thus answered, “My real mother possesses an enormous collection of books used to learn their behavior for cognitive therapy and counseling at work. I enjoy reading, so those books back at home were like a treasure to me as a child.

“Back then, fiction and fairytale are things children would be absorbed in. But their records are way better than any fairytale at all! And the way how my real mom helped people with their problems connecting to them is the most amazing—!”

The unusual long pause caught Romani’s concern once more. Diverted his head to where the raven-haired Master, a sunny smile, established on Ritsuka’s lips. “I mean, how these individuals left such a tremendous imprint on human history will impress me the more I learn about them. A-Anyway, I’m sorry that I talked so much….”

Romani shook his head and laughed, an adorable person the young Chaldea Master Ritsuka was, to learn and admire every person he met. He reassured the young Master again. “No, it’s fine, Ritsuka-kun. I’m still reading that book, so… Maybe when I’m done, I’ll let you borrow it?”

Blue eyes widened utterly in shock at the Doctor’s proposition. Ritsuka switched his head between the book and Romani twice before confirming. “Is… Is that alright? Won’t there be overdue issues if you lend the book to me?”

“Yeah, it’s repaying you for taking care of me when I fainted back there.” Romani nodded, headed back to wash up, and squeezed dry the wet cloth. “The previous Director was the one who lends the book indefinitely and hands to me before his death. So, I hope you don’t mind waiting a little longer.”

“Of course not!” The raven-haired Master’s eyes light up with the excitement of getting his hand onto this very book in the prospect. He then bowed gratefully and responded, “Thank you very much, Doctor Roman!”

Romani gave one last grin to the raven-haired Master, down the wet cloth, and put a white-gloved hand onto his waist. “Alright, then. I’ve finished my meal; we can start your checkup.”

-0-

“I’m done changing.” Ritsuka pushed the curtain while trying to button up with a white long sleeve coat. A simple checkup Romani explained to re-examine his magic circuits taking about 15 to 20 minutes long.

The said pinkish-orange, now ponytail-haired Doctor flipping through the report, looked to where the raven-haired Master was. “Good, just take a seat over here!”

Approached to the gesture same white stool beside him, Ritsuka seated down to finish fixing up the collar of his coat. “How is it, Doctor?”

“A lot better now. Your magic circuits took quite a while to get used to contracting two Servants for the first time. But now you’ve re-summoned that Caster from Fuyuki, it doesn’t wear you out as badly before.” Romani answered with a smile.

“That’s good!”

Romani added with his own grin to the raven-haired Master’s energetic beam. “But try not to overwork yourself, Ritsuka-kun. The pace you’ve been practicing magic with Sadakuni is more than just fine. Knowing you, there shouldn’t be an issue in seeing how well-trained you are. Just be ready with your sister for your next mission on the first Singularity—!”

BEEP BEEP BEEP!!

“Hm?”

“Huh?” Both blue and green orbs landed their eyes on Romani’s wristwatch for the origin of the alarm.

The latter orbs widened on seeing the time appearing on his watch.

“C-Crap, Magi☆Mari’s Livestream is starting in a few minutes!!”

The Doctor leaped off from his seat to view the so-called Livestream, leaving Ritsuka behind dumbfounded.

Ritsuka tilted his head with confusion and wondered aloud, “Magi… Mari?”

He headed into Romani’s private room, watching the Doctor hurrying to dig out from a cardboard box labeled with the name ‘Magi☆Mari.’

It rang familiarity inside Ritsuka’s mind but questioned if what the Doctor spoke and his recollection weren’t the same.

Soon enough, the answer sang beside the raven-haired Master.

On his right, the table was placed with two speakers and a familiar white laptop showing a webpage of video, Livestream.

Though, what captured his attention to confirm the notion was a colorful brand of pink and purple…

Ritsuka yelled with his jaw dropped in disbelief upon recognizing it, “No way, you’re kidding me… Magi☆Mari?!!”

“What?!” The raven-haired infectious surprise exclamation made Romani returned with his own.

He stood and spun wearing an ‘I ♡ Magi☆Mari’ head bandana and a pink and orange flowery summer haori of a beautiful, long, white-haired young woman.

“You know Magi☆Mari too, Ritsuka-kun?!”

Ritsuka switched back to the startled Doctor and nodded frantically. “Of course! She’s the world’s biggest net idol of all time, Doctor Roman. How would one ‘not’ know her at all?! She is not really the first AI net idol, but fans worldwide consulted and even asked her out. Heard CEOs and politicians came to her for guidance for their company and judgments!

“Her cuteness and elegance that transcends any no.1 Miss Universe model…. Her intelligence is as great as the genius Da Vinci himself…. I’m not even surprised when she disclosed to the world that she advanced herself from just a simple AI to this…!”

“….. Ritsuka-kun, are you a fan of Magi☆Mari by any chance?” Romani summarized.

His green eyes blinked twice for his brain to process the raven-haired Master’s fervor rant.

“Hm?” The passionate fever faded away in Ritsuka’s mind, realizing his earlier behavior on rambling of his admired Solomon repeated.

“O-Oh, I mean….”

He quickly cleared his throat to return to his indifferent face and amended. “Yeah, I am one of Magi☆Mari’s fans. Or was her biggest fan since she first debuted on the internet. Though, it’s been four years since I have been a fan of her—!”

Whatever answers the raven-haired Master given cut off by Romani, dashing to where he stood and seized both his hands. His own green orbs now shared the same sparkle as he proclaimed aloud. “Then you and I are comrades, Ritsuka-kun!”

“…. Hah?” Ritsuka’s turn next to express a stupefied face at what the Doctor declared.

Were there any medical experts besides Romani himself to investigate if he received any brain damage when he collapsed earlier?!

Romani missed the dumbfounded expression on the young Master’s face and went on.

“To realize there’s another fan in Chaldea aside myself, I’m really happy about this!

“Well, not myself, there was personnel who were formerly Magi☆Mari’s fan, but—!”

Ritsuka cut short to prevent the misunderstanding deepened any further than called for. “H-Hold it right there, Doctor. I said I’ve been her fan, but—!”

“Don’t worry about it, Ritsuka-kun!

“Magi☆Mari is ever forgiving and welcoming to the fans that left and returned to her!”

“I know that, but listen to—!”

Attempts were to dissuade or convince the other abruptly came to a pause by a piece of cheerful sparkly music familiar to the two men.

Both Romani and Ritsuka turned to the laptop playing Magi☆Mari’s website Livestream.

In the broadcast, a familiar short with a long messy white-haired woman with pinkish lavender eyes in a white with lilac and the pink frilly dress.

Her hands in a pair of white with reddish-pink ends at the wrist of the gloves raised. She waved towards the crowd and greeted. “Heeeeeeellllllllooooooo, everyone!”

Spun a quick twirl, the idol bent forward to the camera and did a cute wink. “Hope everyone is feeling good today. Your favorite idol, Magi☆Mari, is here!”

The loud applauding noises gave the idol a cue to lift both her skirt sides to do a bow before continuing. “Today’s Livestream is an exceptional topic I will share from a fan’s request! I hope everybody will stick around to watch and listen to the very end.”

Panned close to her face, Magi☆Mari raised both hands below her chin. Her eyes were in tears and pleaded in her softest and sweetest voice. “You will, right…?”

An invisible arrow struck Ritsuka’s heart of being charmed by her as ever. Just like in his middle school days when he was still a massive fan of Magi☆Mari, easily and readily willing to obey her words—!

No, hang on…! This wasn’t the time to watch her stream. Ritsuka shook his head. He’d already promised himself he’d given up on being an Idol Otaku since that day... And, there’s also Sadakuni’s training he needed to get back to. “W-Well…”

Before he explained himself, the raven-haired Master felt a tap on his shoulder. His face looked to see Romani wearing the same puppy teary eyes as the AI Idol. “You wouldn’t reject her, right….?”

This had to be illegal for both the fluffy Doctor and Magi☆Mari to gang up on him like this! Reluctantly, Ritsuka sighed to surrender. “… Alright, just one show for her, Doctor Roman. I’ll be in trouble if I miss my practice with Sadakuni-san. In exchange…”

A quick glimpse around Romani’s room. The raven-haired Master’s sight settled on a light yellow cake box and pointed. “Cake!”

“Cake?” Romani questioned and followed his gaze to where the young Master focused on.

“Treat me to your most delicious cake, and we’ll call it even!” A bright, cheeky grin curled on Ritsuka’s lips and reminded him. “Come on, you assume I would forget of your promise to treat me, right?”

The unexpected request caught the Doctor off guard. He expected the young man to ask for something far worse.

Yet, the pure-like innocence from the raven-haired Master made Romani laughing seconds afterward.

“Of course not, Ritsuka-kun.

“If it’s the cake you want, I’d be even willing to share with you my other sweets collection!

“I’ll even recommend which other sweets are considered my all-time favorite.”

Ritsuka nodded before Romani returned to retrieve out his Magi☆Mari merchandise for their use in the stream. “Then, we have a deal, Doctor Roman!”

-0-

Any plans Ritsuka had in his mind, like leaving halfway through the stream... Thrown out in favor of becoming too absorbed to the very end. Aside from the regular coverage of her next song or vlogging, the fresh stream discussed her trip to meet one of her bedridden fans.

Left within weeks of his incurable illness, the young man was content to have been her fan till his last moment.

That heartbreaking yet bittersweet confession not only touched Magi☆Mari’s soul, along with the doctor and the raven-haired Master.

After plucking a few pieces of tissues he brought in at some point during the stream, Romani wiped tears from his bloodshot eyes and wept. “I’m glad I didn’t miss this week's Livestream. That fan could make his wish come true of Magi☆Mari visiting him in video calling before his illness takes a toll on his life.”

Beside him, Ritsuka’s face swollen red and bloodshot eyes streaked with tears, lifted a hand to wipe, and sniffled. “Megami-sama* is indeed more amazing than the last time… She saw how bad his cancer was and did her very best to cheer him to fight on. Yet, her soul is pure-hearted like the heavens, to grant him peace before his death. How could I’ve been so foolish to leave her behind?!”

“Ritsuka-kun… As I thought, you truly love her, don’t you?” The doctor turned to him, fresh tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

“Yeah, I’ve always had admired and love her, Doctor Roman. But with this Livestream, my love for her has been renewed…!”

Ritsuka whirled and agreed tearfully, “Doctor Roman, from today onwards, let us be brother-in-arms to support Megami-sama!”

“Of course!” Romani blew his nose into the tissue and bawled. “Any fan of beloved Magi☆Mari is my comrade, Ritsuka-kun! We’re glad to have you back with us.”

“Doctor Roman!”

“Ritsuka-kun!”

The pair latched onto each other in an embrace. Tears shed in mourning of losing one of their comrades to the illness…. All the while for Ritsuka, wholly forgotten how much scolding he gained later from skipping his class to indulge back to his old Otaku habits again.

End of Issue #4

*Megami-sama: Goddess

Some Romani and Ritsuka (Gudao) relationship development and bonding over their favorite idol! For Ritsuka calling Fou as 'Fou-sama' is one way to differentiate between him and his sister.... And mainly for Fou to assert dominance that he's still better than Merlin at one part LOL

Those who read the bio and this chapter is what inspired me for Ritsuka's magecraft. One is mainly the canon dreamscape is helping to connect his backstory, serving certain important roles and I wanted a magecraft relating to illusion on a character who has the opposite personality of trickery and deceit. Or someone whose heart while I won't say it as pure heart to become Mary Sue... But one least who went through tons of betrayal and bad experiences yet retain his idealistic innocent side towards people around him. This one does play a big role after LB6 is up on why Ritsuka (Gudao) is able to go into Avalon....

No, he's definitely not related to Artoria line by blood. However, in still some way, he's connected to them one way or another!

Finally regarding King Solomon... My favorite scene and those who completed Solomon Singularity going to read this in a completely different light especially how Ritsuka easily profess his admiration to him without realizing XD

Anyway, I'll try to finish this whole Fuyuki arc so that I can move to Orleans... But can't promise when or how if my motivation goes on.... At least good to know IRL situation still not looking that well with my Dad now back to hospital again. More or somewhat full details of it is in my blog you'll need to dig with precaution because it's infested with LB6 spoilers

#fgo #Fate Grand Order #gudao #romani archaman #fou #magi mari #fgo destiny awakenings

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bubmyg · 5 years

Text

dare to begin - jjk

pairing: jeongguk x reader

genre/warnings: college!au, f2l (idiots to lovers), amateur model!jeongguk, aspiring photographer!jeongguk, amateur stylist!reader, graphic design student!reader, a touch of angst, mostly tooth rotting fluff

word count: 16,748

summary: jeongguk has a camera and you have a pirated editing software so what better for two broke college students to do than to open a photography business to their…closest friends on facebook or where kim seokjin’s modeling agency wants to sign jeongguk and you don’t know the first thing about curling his hair.

a/n: this was inspired by that random dispatch photoshoot in vegas...i’m not even sorry

“Oh fuck off.”

Jeongguk’s head lifted from where his forehead was pressed between the crook of his elbow, squinting at you through bleary eyes. “...for once, I didn’t even say anything—”

“Not you,” You clicked so angrily on the notification, it didn’t register and you had to jam your index finger into the button again, “The bursar’s office.”

“Oh, did they—” Jeongguk rolled to his back, head half dangling off the end of your bed as he pulled his phone to his face. “—oh. Tuition statements.”

“How can they make us pay for something that hasn’t even started yet? We haven’t even finished this semester.”

“What are they going to do if we don’t pay by the first day of the semester—” Jeongguk’s eyebrows peered at you underneath his phone, “—kick us out?”

You glared at the mass of numbers twisted into the statement until they muddled together and gave your conscious the mirage that the cost was an extra digit more. Your phone skidded across the surface of your desk, coming to a stop in the pointed corner next to a decorative jar of pens and a concert ticket you’d pushed through the cork board material substance lining the back.

“They won’t kick me out?” You didn’t look up from studying a fray of graining wood on the pointed corner of your desk but cocked an eyebrow at the waiver of uncertain concern in Jeongguk’s voice paired with the change in position from we to me, “Will they?”

“I don’t know,” You answered truthfully, arm slung over the back of your desk chair to face his pouted lips still slung backward over your bed. An unspoken why would they kick you out? “I really don’t.”

He answered your rhetorical with closed eyes and his phone pressing to his abdomen, “I don’t know if I’ll...have enough. That much. By then. Even if it’s not until the end of the summer…”

You scolded the glaring image of your bank statement when you gently tried, “There’s all kinds of loans you can apply for. What about scholarships? Isn’t the science department like...the biggest at the university? Surely they offer something—”

“I don’t think I have the grades,” There was a silence occupied by his notebook with messy organic chemistry notes rewritten twice from the previous semester when he’d taken the exact same class. Jeongguk dropped your gaze, shifting until the back of his head was resting on the side of your mattress while he went for his cuticles, picking at the edge of his thumb while soft red crept into his puffed cheeks and flaring nostrils.

You abandoned the open animation file on your laptop that you’d forgotten to click save on for the seventeenth time within the hour, a final project you just had to turn in with a semi coherence to the material of the semester to maintain your existing grade. You stumbled, desk chair catching on the edge of your crumbled rug but it didn’t deter you from flopping in beside Jeongguk, leaning over him with both elbows pressed into his stomach to snatch his notebook. He eyed you curiously under wavy fringe until you settled on him, chin pressed into the bottom of the pages as a concentrated scrunch met the pass of your eyes over his handwriting.

“What are you doing?”

You glanced up, gradual in the drag of your hands up his sides until you could jam your index fingers into the sensitive spots around his ribs, coaxing a soft squirm and a gasping giggle from his lips.

“Helping you get those grades. Do you really want to take organic chemistry for the third time?” Jeongguk didn’t flinch because your inquiry wasn’t teasing or jabbing, it was serious for the sake of never seeing him on the verge of tears over three credit hours again. He shook his head in negation instead, reaching behind him to snatch one of your pillows to drag behind his neck, propping him up just enough to study the curl of your stature against his chest.

“No, ma’am.”

“Good, now pay attention.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You watched Jeongguk sink his teeth into the mint chocolate ice cream balanced two dollops high on a cone with a wrinkle to one side of your nose, the smile on your lips forced when he swallowed the green between his cheeks and quipped, “What?”

“You know what,” You twirled a string of hot fudge onto your plastic fork, mouthing your lips over it until the sweet substance melted on the roof of your mouth, “Forget it.”

He shrugged, happily taking another, literal, bite off the opposite side of the treat tower, lips sponging down the length of his hand to noisily suck on the melted stream of ice cream that had rippled across his knuckles.

You sighed. Jeongguk grinned mint green, “Tastes like freedom.”

“My summer job says otherwise.” The bookstore wasn’t a fun place of employment during the school year let alone when three fourths of the student body was gone.

Jeongguk dabbed at the corner of his lips with a napkin, a sharp contrast to the way he’d been barbarically gnawing his way through the ice cream, “So does my summer tutoring. A lesser of two evils.”

“I suppose…”

“At least we can drink on Wednesday’s now and only feel slightly guilty.”

“You don’t drink.”

“I drink a little—”

“Is this your way of asking me to come over for beer tonight?”

He grinned sheepishly, “Doesn’t have to be for beer. Hoseok moved back home yesterday. I’m extra alone.”

You eyed his prize possession, his camera, encased snugly inside it’s over the shoulder case that Jeongguk kept within grasp on the tiny cafe table shared between the two of you. He followed your gaze, a careful hand coming to rest on the strap even though he knew you respected his comfort enough not to touch it.

“So, what, you talk me into following your wandering ass around the park for hours to take pictures and now you want me to hole up in your apartment and watch whatever terrible nature documentary you’ve found on Netflix?”

Jeongguk mumbled around another chunk of the treat in his palm, unaffected because he knew you were going to show up at his apartment regardless of invitation, “I bought us ice cream, didn’t I?”

You grumbled your thanks into your deviation of attention, pulling your phone to your eyes as you jabbed another spoonful of sundae into your cheeks. Jeongguk continued to happily munch while you scrolled through one social media and then the other, finally landing on Facebook with a disgruntled roll of your eyes the second the first post appeared.

“What?”

“Facebook.”

“Did Yoongi post another Area 51 meme?”

You scrolled to the next post just to confirm that yes, sadly, before scrolling back up to the original source of your offending scoff. You eyed the generic smile plastered on the lips of the girl you’d went to high school with, the same as the generic caption on the generic set of pictures she’d taken of her dog and someone’s baby, advertising a brand new photography business, one she’d be doing on the side with no prices listed and simply a shoot me a text to book an appointment!, a service exclusive to those who knew her and who would pay her a little extra because of that connection and a business page created exclusively for a business that would be forgotten by the end of the summer.

Your lips parted to explain, unfortunate in absently scrolling past Yoongi’s string of laughing emojis at whatever Area 51 meme his conspiracy theorist group chat had sent him that morning, before you were pausing. Thumb freezing, lips parted in a perfect circle, eyes the only thing moving as they swept upward.

Jeongguk watched you like you were seconds away from shedding a shell or sprouting a second head or both, ice cream sticking to the pout of his bottom lip and a new melted stream lipping into the stretch between his thumb and index finger. He didn’t follow your gaze when it jerked from him to his camera bag, watching as your entire being lit like the thing you were sprouting wasn’t a second head but instead a hovering light bulb.

“You know what we should do?”

“...go to the park and take pictures of the playground equipment in obscure angles that strangely turn out to be aesthetically pleasing?”

“Close,” Your nail dug into your screen until you were at the top post again, flipping your phone over while you continued to study the zippers wrapped to the width of Jeongguk’s camera bag. When he’d squinted at the screen for what you deemed necessary to get the gist of the post, you continued, “We should open a photography business.”

Jeongguk squinted, “A what now?”

“A photography business. You take the pictures, I edit them. Foolproof way to earn extra cash.”

“In order to have a photography business we have to have something to photograph…”

“I bet we can get Yoongi to pay us twenty bucks to take pictures of his dog.”

“It’s almost not worth the twenty—”

“Okay, forty dollars,” You shrugged, reaching out with your own clean but crumpled napkin to dab at the excess ice cream on his hand, “I’m sure there’s some of our friends back home who need pictures of their baby. Or their cousin’s baby. Or their little brother’s senior pictures—” You blinked at the confused round of his doe eyes, “—what could it hurt to try?”

After a second of silence and swatting your hand away to lick at the dried ice cream instead, “...well we’ll need examples.”

“Good thing we were just about to go to the park—” You gestured toward his camera bag, “—and that thing is virtually attached to you.”

Jeongguk gradually began to loosen, “You want to do this right now?”

You stood then, binning your virtually untouched sundae before reaching out for his mostly eaten treat. He shoved the last of the cone between his cheeks instead of handing it to you, puffed cheeks innocent as he handed you his mass of crumpled napkins to throw away instead before you were taking both his hands to pull him up.

“What better time than now?” You grinned when he cocked an eyebrow, still holding onto your hands, “C’mon. You can help me edit them tonight.”

Skeptical, “Okay…”

Jeongguk dropped one of your hands to reach for his camera, shrugging it messily over his shoulders while you squeezed the remaining appendage in your grasp, teasing, “Don’t act like you weren’t going to take a ton of pictures of me, anyway.”

You weren’t immune to the soft blush that spread outward from the center of his cheeks, chin dropping as he shouldered his way out of the nearby door, holding it open for you and when you skipped through he grumbled, “Shut up.”

You were fresh off a playful argument about whether he could arrange your hair into a halo of hearts around your head when it happened.

“Not possible,” You dismissed, a disguised threat as you glared up at him from your seated place on the grass. He stepped closer and you held up a steady palm, “Do not touch me or my hair.”

Jeongguk whined, fingers wrapped around his lens as he crouched, twirling and snapping a picture of your indignation. “At least lay down for me? The flowers look nice…”

“These are weeds—”

“Please?”

You obliged because the stars in his eyes told you to, falling backwards to the plush earth with an arm tucked behind your neck and a hefty sigh. He’d stepped between your legs, one foot at your knees and one at your hip as he craned, tongue in cheek in concentration until he mumbled, “I still think the hearts would look cool.”

“I thought you were good at this whole photography thing.”

You retracted into yourself before he could grab you, a shriek of laughter tumbling out of your lips even before his fingers curled into your sides and you flailed an absent foot at his stature squatted over you, chanting I’m sorry, stop! until Jeongguk relented to a messy sitting position next to you in a soft cloud of grass clippings and dust, camera plopped in his lap as he glared at you.

You rolled until you were perched on your elbows, reaching out your previously assaulting foot to prod the light denim on his thighs. When he cocked an eyebrow, you tried, “Any good ones?”

Without missing a beat, he hummed, “As good as we can get with that face of yours.”

“Hey!—”

The tiniest of smiles pressed the ghost of a dimple in Jeongguk’s cheek and he tossed his head, “Come here.”

An awkward waddle over and you were pressed into his side, cheek on his arm as he scrolled through the shots on the digital screen. It was something about his ability to capture shots at just the right moment in just the right lighting with just the right angle that elicited a feeling of fond within you, that even if you didn’t particularly like the squash of your chin between your neck or the way the wind had curled the material of your shirt around your torso, it was still a glimpse into how Jeongguk saw the world, saw you. A strange fuzziness bubbled to the tips of your fingers as he continued to scroll through his lens to what he perceived as your beauty, focused more on the gradual smile that grew higher on his teeth as he flipped past candid shots of you telling him off to staged shots of you perched on a park bench looking as skeptical as you could about the barking squirrel perched just out of frame above you.

“Good, don’t you think?” His fond faced you, further melting the numbness on the edge of your appendages to the entirety of your stature.

You relaxed into his so that your nod brushed against his bicep, afraid of what your face would say if you met his gaze and you mumbled, “Told you we didn’t need heart hair.”

“Hush,” Jeongguk’s screen went black as he set it gently on the cross of his ankles, leaning on his palms to accommodate your stature better, “Do you think we got plenty of examples?”

You continued to stare at his blank screen, skin warm on the fabric covering his arm and suddenly it happened when you blurted, “Let me take some of you.”

A possessive hand curled to obscure your view of the blank preview screen, shoulders jumping as he tried to laugh it off, “No, that’s okay.”

Chin on his shoulder, you dared to look at him and utter, “What? I’ll edit them. I mean, I know your face looks like that but that’s the beauty of technology.”

“My joke,” Jeongguk’s neck craned backward to observe you, smile flustered like the pink that had overtaken more of his cheeks, “...why do you want to?”

You shrugged, “You always take pictures of me. I just thought we could change it up—” You swallowed, “You know. For our business.”

“Ah, marketing technique, huh,” Slowly, he uncovered the device, flicking it back to life with a seasoned thumb as he was stretching it to place it softly on your thigh, “Okay, boss. Where do you want me?”

You’d used a camera before but something so expensive to the price tag but priceless to the wary man before you made it an extra weight in your palms, fumbling at first to get anything that wasn’t blurry. One of your first clear shots was after you’d shoved on broad shoulders until he was seated on a wooden bench, awkward and small at first until you sighed with the camera at your hip.

The exasperated relax that sighed from your lips opened up a new realm that had the strange bubbles from earlier lodging into the base of your throat when Jeongguk reclined, both arms framing the back of the bench and his legs flopped open, that slight crinkle to one edge of his nose still present until you slowly rose the camera and it erased into something effortlessly smug.

“I can’t...I can’t get it to focus.” For two reasons now.

Jeongguk nodded in seeming understanding and you had a hunch he didn’t entirely understand why but he patted the spot next to his thigh on the bench nonetheless. “Come here. Rest your elbow on this and then try. It’ll stabilize it a little bit more…”

You startled yourself and him when you bypassed the bench for his thigh, digging your elbow into the taut muscle as you pulled the camera to your face, catching his surprise first and then the slow smirk that melted back into his features, chin tilting as you got a few more shots before pulling your touch away.

The next set of shots was you frantically ordering him to stay like a dog until you’d jogged the proper distance away (Don’t trip! Watch my camera!) and motioned for him to walk to you. It was rigid at first, just as before, a little too fast and his face was on the edge of bursting into audible giggles. You continued to back away, holding up a palm for him to pause again and then you shouted, “Relax!” louder than before and more important.

There was an easy gait to his walk now, feet crossing as they stepped in front of each other, one hand finding the front pocket of his jeans as the oversized hang of his striped blue shirt crinkled at his thin waist. One hand dared to fluff at his hair, gaze going out to the occupants of the park rather than the desolate intersection to his other side and you couldn’t help but giggle at the unsure smile that crossed his lips immediately after the action.

Jeongguk settled for an easy saunter after that, one hand in his pocket, both in, both out, until you were tired of the clench of his jaw and you called over the raise of his device to the lower half of your face, “Hey! Are those yellow converse you’re wearing?”

He frowned at first, “What’s wrong with my yellow converse?” before breaking into a gentle grin, one that started at the crinkles around his eyes and traveled into the wide pull of his teeth as the easy swing of his steps stumbled into his louder laughter and you continued to click away all the same until he set his sights on you. Hunched back, rolled shoulders, arms comically splayed out behind him as he darted for you, a squeak of surprise leaving your lips and before you could think to hold onto his camera and run, he was on you, arms around your waist to direct his giggles directly over your ear.

The excitement died with gentle sways in the center of the sidewalk. Jeongguk continued to hold your hips as he pulled away, quieter now, “Do you think we have enough now?”

“Plenty,” You held his camera out to him until his grip was secure on it, prodding your index finger to the center of his chest, “Did you want to take anymore? I know you originally wanted to come because you had some ideas for your portfolio…”

He beamed, slightly apologetic in the slant of it on his lips, “It’s okay, we have all summer. I’m...kind of hungry anyway.”

“We just had ice cream!”

“We’ve been here for four hours.”

You eyed the time on your phone and then the dip of the sun behind some wisped clouds in the horizon. “Oh.”

“You’ll come with me another day, though?”

You patted Jeongguk’s chest instead of prodding it. “Of course, Guk.”

He plopped in beside you, two paper plates balanced between his long fingers and the curve of his wrist, each piled high in fresh slices of pizza. One plate was deposited to the coffee table beyond the sway of your ankles, the latter pulled over his thighs to begin happily munching at the toppings while you continued to hack at the keys on your laptop.

“Any progress?” Jeongguk leaned closer with grease stained lips, “Making us look good?”

You hummed, dragging your finger over your touchpad. Another notch down on contrast, another notch up on the chosen filter, some color correction, and lessening of shadows to compensate for the natural lighting.

“Trying my best. And…” You navigated to save the image on the screen, one of Jeongguk walking toward you with a hand in his pocket and an easy expression adorning his otherwise tentative features. “I’m done!”

He pouted, grease stained finger trailing to the screen, “You cut off my shoes.”

“I blame your camera,” You exited out of the program, pulling up your internet browser instead. You paused, the cursor blinking on the search engine and you turned to observe the fish of Jeongguk’s lips as he gnawed on another bite of pizza dough, “...do you really want me to post some of these?”

He dusted his fingers on the edge of his joggers, leaning closer until his cheek was smooshed against the crook of your elbow. “I mean, what can it hurt.”

You began to type then, slow in entering the cursed Facebook and you chatted as you typed, “Should we create an official page for the business and everything?”

“Absolutely we should,” Jeongguk made grabby hands at your laptop until you relented and let him pull it into the awkward curl of his lap. His eyebrows furrowed at the first post on your feed, the same Yoongi Area 51 meme that continued to fester in your feed because Taehyung couldn’t and wouldn’t stop commenting on it and his tongue sandwiched in his molars with further confusion, doe eyes scanning down the length of the screen until the tip of your nail pointed him in the right direction.

Jeongguk hesitated again on the first question. Name.

“Uh…”

“I got it,” You leaned your head against his, softly, “Dare to Begin…”

Dare to begin a new semester that neither of you knew if you could properly pay for. Dare to begin a summer of trying to figure out how to pay for that semester. Dare to begin a new semester by some miracle and then what (figure it out when you get there, survive) with a major you adored and a major he did because photography wasn’t a viable career option. Dare to begin a friendship with someone who photographed the world like the beauty he saw it in but photographed you like he was in love with the world because you existed in it.

Dare to begin a new business on Facebook, of all things.

He wrinkled his nose, “I was just going to go with Flash Fiends or something.”

“Oh, come on,” You reasoned your prior thoughts to something that wouldn’t cause suspicion of your sentiments, “Dare to begin, like weddings? They’re beginning their journey with us. Senior pictures? Beginning a journey. Baby pictures? Again...beginning a long life journey—”

“You’re serious about this?” Jeongguk had already typed Flash Fiends in the name box and you squeaked in indignation.

“I guess not,” Suddenly bashful, “I just thought it was creative…”

“It is,” You blinked and he’d navigated through three other windows before he was typing dare to begin with Flash Fiends as the opening line in the description box. He hacked away some more, a generic description and you equally agreed to put prices in the album with the pictures of the two of you. Another jam of his pinky into the enter key and he lifted up off your side to hand you your laptop back. “There! Okay, now do your thing.”

Doing your thing included dragging all the files into an album, adding searchable hashtags, making the post public, choosing to set the last photo of Jeongguk you’d edited as the cover photo. A couple more clicks to make the post, navigating to share it onto your profile and dropping a tag of his profile and, “My thing is done.”

He took your laptop from you to replace it with the extra plate of pizza, sliding the remote into his hand in the same movement and flicking on the television. “Now,” He gestured solemnly to the litter of devices in front of you, both your phones and the still open laptop, “We wait.”

You remembered two of the share notifications before you dozed off underneath the cozy puff of Jeongguk’s duvet and the heavy weight of his arm draped across your waist. One from Yoongi, an oh so serious I’m going to help my friends! share that included the obligatory you’re very talented, Guk-ah! I’d love to have you shoot Holly one day...comment. One from Taehyung, a less than serious share that included a string of laughing emojis solely on the image of Jeongguk lounging seriously on the wooden park bench.

The notification you most definitely did not remember was the email from Kim Enterprises titled internship inquiry.

You crawled from Jeongguk’s embrace to snatch your laptop, afraid to pull the email up on the tiny screen of your phone in fear you were reading it wrong. The light off the screen roused him from his sleep before your suddenly-not-tired-anymore gasp did.

“What? What’s wrong?” He misjudged the search of his hand for you, gently sliding across your cheek instead of your arm like he’d been aiming but you barely flinched, covering your lips with both hands instead.

“This can’t be real,” The words muffled through your fingers before they were in action again, highlighting the email address and jamming it into the search engine.

“I’m not following you…”

“To be honest,” You clicked on the first result of the search, another gasp raw in your throat when the website, that website, emerged, “Me either.”

“B-Bloom?” Jeongguk squinted at the screen, turning your laptop towards the sleep still coating the fringe stuck in his eyelashes, “What is Bloom?”

“A magazine. An extremely popular magazine.”

He brushed your fingers out of the way to navigate back to the tab with your email on it, squinting at the address, “Why did an extremely popular magazine email you?”

“Let me read this email to you, Guk.”

“I can read—”

“Greetings owner of Flash Fiends. We were extremely intrigued by the contents of your recent business inquiry not for the service at hand but rather the individual seen in some of the photos. The social media entity tagged him as Jeon Jeongguk, and if that is the identity of this individual, we’d be interested in signing him—” You paused, swallowing half your tongue and holding a singular finger up as you inhaled audible through your nose, “—for a summer modeling internship in the interest of some of our newest summer spreads, paid of course. If that is something that would be of interest to you, please reply to this email with an updated resume and we will be in touch. Thank you again, and we look forward to hearing from you. Park Jimin, Department Head of Kim fucking Enterprises and Bloom fucking Inc.”

There was a passing moment of silence, some shifting as Jeongguk fell back into the sheets with his pillow curled in his bare arm and he mumbled, “I told you Flash Fiends was an incredible name.”

“Jeongguk! Did you hear me?”

He hummed, “I saw it, too.”

“And? They want to pay you! This is the perfect opportunity to earn the money you need for next semester!”

When he was silent for a frightening second, you shut your laptop and shucked it to the floor, turning until you were facing him. You’d barely settled when a tiny, forced smile was dimpling into his cheeks. “I’m not going without you,” He tried to provide and you frowned.

“Uhm, yes you absolutely are.”

“I’m not a model, babe.”

“You’re entirely more attractive than you give yourself credit for,” You blinked at him, soft fingers subconsciously reaching to stroke wavy tresses from his gaze, “Come on. What could it hurt to try?”

“You said that about the photography business idea, too, and now look where we are,” He flushed under your touch between his eyebrows, “Besides, are you going to run that alone if I leave?”

You bypassed his sarcasm, “We’re in a place where you could get that money you need for next semester. One step closer to graduation. And all you’d have to do is pose for some pictures. They’ll probably pay for your housing and shit too—”

“Okay, but I’m still not going without you,” You waited on Jeongguk to exhale through his nose, considering something over the top of your head before elaborating, “...if I’m going to try this, you’re going with me. Just like the photography business.” Just like everything.

“You need a resume first.”

“And you need some sort of skill that goes hand in hand with a famous model—” He beamed, “—like yours truly.”

“Fuck off—”

“You could be my assistant.”

“Fuck off twice.”

“What about my stylist?” Jeongguk let the suggestion hang in the air for a second before teasing, “Your eyeliner looks half decent sometimes.”

“And does any part of you genuinely think I want to go with you at this point—”

“We also need someone to fake these resumes for us—” His features wrinkled up, “—can we get arrested for that? Should I apologize to my FBI agent now?”

You ignored him, instead saying simply, “Taehyung.”

The software engineer blinked at you past artificial blue, the light coating the dyed grey locks that parted in all the right places around the circumference of his head, baggy flannel wrapped around his knuckles that drummed absently into his desk.

“So...you were serious about that Facebook post?”

“Not really, but—” You exchanged a glance with Jeongguk, “—now we kind of are.”

Taehyung spun slowly in his desk chair, making one full rotation until he pondered, “So, let me get this straight. You want me to fake resumes for the two of you so that you can get a paid internship at Bloom, aka, one of the biggest fashion magazines in the country, because they somehow, through the power of the internet, found your half-joking, half-serious photoshoot and want to sign the amateur model that is Jeon Jeongguk.”

Jeongguk exchanged a glance with you this time, “Correct.”

The older boy blinked, once, twice, four times before shrugging, pushing sleeves up to his elbows as he dug bare heels into the floor, dragging himself closer to the computer to begin hacking away. The blue light turned white and he mumbled, “I’ll see what I can do.”

Twenty minutes later you were sitting across from Taehyung at his tiny dining table with a manila folder in hand containing two pieces of paper, stapled together neatly in the corner, and printed with thick ink you were almost afraid to touch. The man across from you sucked noisily on coffee from a Pikachu themed mug, taking a massive bite from a chocolate energy bar in the same movement and he spoke through the crumbs gathering on the corners of his lips, “I think you’ll find those sufficient.”

You ignored Jeongguk’s flat out whine at the contents of his papers, gleeing, “Oh, good thinking, Tae. I’ll absolutely take credit for RM’s cheekbones in the Seoul music video.”

“Wait—” Jeongguk placed his hand on your arm until he could drag your fake resume close enough to scan it. Another whine, high pitched and through slanted eyebrows and pouted lips, “—why do you get to be attached to Namjoon?”

“Your crush is showing.”

“At least yours doesn’t say you were a former foot model!”

You couldn’t suppress the snort in your throat, gently prying the wrinkled papers from Jeongguk’s death grip to confirm that Taehyung did, in fact, write that Jeongguk had an impressive track record of modeling for various small shoe companies with posters plastered in every massive mall on the south side of the country.

“Why—”

“Because you can’t see your face, dumbass,” Taehyung finished the bar in hand in two bites, shucking the wrapper into a pile of various other trash on the edge of his dining table, “It’s easier to fake if they do check references. What do you think they’re going to do, pull your socks off to check?”

“There’s approximately a million other parts of my body that aren’t my face.”

“Not quite a million…”

“Anyway,” You flattened both your resumes to the table, tapping on the section that said references with a singular reference, “What is this phone number?”

“Mine,” Another energy bar had materialized from somewhere and the wrapper was loudly crinkling in Taehyung palm as he shrugged into another bite, “I’m your manager now.”

“There’s no way this is going to work.”

“This will work,” He took another swig from his mug and when something like a belch rumbled in his throat you figured out that it wasn’t coffee but something carbonated, “What? Do you not have any trust in me?”

You fiddled in the backseat of the cab, the seat belt too tight on your shoulder and digging into that spot on your neck the more you shifted. You tore your gawking gaze away from the city skyline trailing along outside the window to Jeongguk prodding at his thigh with your index finger.

“You think they’ve called Taehyung yet?”

“If they haven’t yet they’re probably not going to,” His chin swiveled from the window to look at you, gently taking the nervous tap of your hand into his palm and holding it in his lap, “They’ve already said we’re in. We’re already here. It’s okay.”

You were silent through another stop sign and the anger of honking traffic over the soft radio before you uttered, “So Taehyung must be some kind of wizard, then.”

Jeongguk’s palm caught on the back of the driver’s seat when the brakes slammed again, offering you another gentle smile as his thumb swiped over your knuckles, “Evidently.”

“We’re here,” The driver informed you over the ambiance of unmoving traffic and screeching tires, holding out an expectant hand for Jeongguk to jam a wad of cash into before he was pulling you out onto the sidewalk after him.

Backpacks on and suitcases barely lifted over the lip of the trunk of the cab before he was speeding away off the curb in a rare moment of serenity on the street. Your easy going shrug in Jeongguk’s direction was short lived until you turned toward the building in question, your building for the next few months, nonchalant turning to ice even as summer heat burned through the fabric of the hoodie you’d adorned since five am that morning at the airport.

A skyscraper was the easiest way to explain it in layman's terms, towering endless stories high so it almost appeared to curve and sway into the flecks of clouds skimming through the blue sky. It seemed to be made entirely of windows, tinted enough and if you squinted, covered in elegant curtains or outlined with towering succulents in molted clay pots. The front door was sliding glass, accented in gold like the name plate jutting out in an awning over a massive outdoor rug with the same name and logo etched in a shag of the same hue. The longer you gaped, the more people entered or exited through the very glass doors, ingraining the soft mechanical hum they made into the forefront of your conscious along with the polished leather shoes and designer purses and singular wedding bands that likely costs more than you would pay in tuition for four years combined.

“This can’t be it,” You panicked from Jeongguk’s arm again, finding it to dig your fingernails into and turn back onto the street, frantically trying to catch sight of your long gone taxi driver but the street had filled in your moment of disbelief and all shades of yellow and orange began to look the same. “Surely we told him the wrong address.”

“Babe,” He didn’t move his arm so as not to startle you, wincing the further your nails curled into his skin but gentle in his call nonetheless, “Baby, hey—” His eyes trekked the jump of your throat as you swallowed, finally meeting his eye contact, “—let’s just go inside. The worst they can tell us is no.”

They didn’t tell you no but the look from the receptionist told you to be self conscious of the joggers shrunk just above your ankles and the tattered edges of the hoodie curled around your knuckles that curled your skin anemic into the handle of your suitcase while Jeongguk easily chatted through her questions and paperwork, confirming that yes, you were the guests of Kim Enterprise. When you uttered purple to his under the breath pick a color inquiry, you didn’t expect it to be for a spiraling wrist band with a shiny metal key attached to one end, an end that pressed into the pulse point on your wrist. He turned from the desk, a folder in hand and a matching blue band on his wrist, one he shook at you so that the key twisted softly underneath the massive crystal chandelier taunting the space above the front desk.

“We’re on the tenth floor,” He seemed entirely too at ease in the drape of his oversized crew neck and baggy joggers over open-toed sandals amongst luxuries like a jar of pens perched on the edge of the front counter you commended him for grabbing because the shiny ballpoints seemed to be carved of the same, close-to-real gold accented every inch of the building. He flicked his head again, soft bangs bouncing, and you were left to stumble after his stature until his advancements had to pause for a tall man in a matching tracksuit walking a happy looking doberman from the direction that you smelled chlorine.

“Does this place have a pool?” You whispered with your hands braced between his shoulder blades, waiting until the man was out of sight to navigate for the elevators.

Jeongguk waited until he stabbed the button, stepping back to jostle the folder in hand to squint at one of the pages. “Looks like it—” His eyes glinted for a second, “—and a full gym!”

He continued chattering about the amenities while you stepped onto the elevator, listing off the various delivery services that would come to the front lobby versus the ones that would bring it to your door, only pausing through a rant about what the in house cafe coffee cost when you jammed the key on your wrist into the lock of the apartment, your apartment, and pushed the door open.

Jeongguk mirrored your panicked thoughts from earlier when he let go of the handle of his suitcase, causing the lopsided storage to tumble to the hardwood below. He articulated it next, “This can’t be it. There has to be a mistake. We’re in the wrong apartment or something—”

“Guk,” You comforted him with a hand on his hip, “Our keys wouldn’t have worked if this wasn’t the right place. They wouldn’t have called us by name at the front desk…”

You followed the awe of his gaze as it tilted upward and in swivel, taking in the muted caramel hardwood glossed underneath fluffy white rugs and hues of blue leather furniture, similar wood color to the floor marking that of the cabinets and tables nailed to walls or pushed into corners, accent pieces and fake flowers doused in blacks and whites sprinkled throughout the various nooks. The windows you’d noticed from the street stretched out in the opposite direction from where you’d came in, allowing you a view not of the street but through the city, a birds eye view through buildings taller and shorter than your own, some close enough to theoretically touch and others just an unworldly as they would be from ground level. Thin black curtains swayed from gold accented rods, a result of the white ceiling fan and the chill of air conditioning seeping out through various vents pressed into the crown molding of the rippled ceiling. A staircase marked the far corner, spiraling upward into an open concept hallway that disappeared into another handful of doors, the wood a slightly darker shade than that on the floor but the railing coated in a curved gold metal.

He swayed next to you and when he shuffled forward, you registered that he’d stepped out of his sandals, picking his feet up like prolonged contact would dirty the immaculate condition. He’d no much as peeked around the corner, the curve of broad shoulders a sliver in your peripheral, when a noise of surprise came high pitched from him.

You peeled off your tennis shoes by the heels, taking long steps until you were behind him. In the kitchen, an open concept room marked onto by the black marble bar that made an L shape to the hum of shining appliances.

“The lights are motioned censored,” Jeongguk provided at a breath and the two of you were still enough in silence that they flicked off. You moved to test his theory, flailing a hand out and frosted globes curled into the ceiling in threes illuminated once more.

You stepped around him, hardwood trailing into slick white tile and you nearly stumbled into the edge of the countertop when you tried to step for the neatly folded triangle of paper perched in the center next to a bowl of fresh fruit. You plucked it into your grasp, not without dislodging a yellow apple that rolled a few paces across the specks of silver shining through in the countertop, using your thumb to smooth out the creases to squint at the printed type.

“What the fuck are we doing?” Jeongguk uttered finally, still rooted in place but slumped against the wall.

You flipped the paper over, “Apparently heading to the agency for a meeting with Park Jimin.”

His eyes closed, feet shuffling until his entire back was pressed into the wall, “I knew that. They said that in the confirmation email. I meant—”

“—we can figure out what to do with this place when we get back. We need to get ready,” You glanced at him, “I mean, you can go in our airport clothes but I’d rather...not.”

“Right…” Jeongguk squinted, eyes trailing over your shoulder to the nestled staircase as he pushed himself up off the wall, “You think the bedrooms are up there?”

You frowned, “Why not just change down here?”

“On account of giant ass windows and thin curtains I don’t entirely trust yet,” His voice echoed to you no matter where he ventured into the house, going first to snatch his fallen suitcase and then secondly making his way for the ascend.

You almost tripped trying to collect your own bag, heaving by the time you caught his stature on the stairs and he turned to you with an amused cock of his eyebrow. “Coming with?”

“Don’t leave me down there alone,” You countered, shoving at his waist, “Too big for me to be by myself. This makes my dorm look like a thimble.”

Jeongguk laughed, a soft sound as his feet hit the next level, glancing down each hallway and then at you. It was an unspoken race until your coiled muscles jumped the opposite direction, meandering into bedrooms at each end of the upper level. You heard his cackles grow louder from within the first door your reached and your conscious had just began to affirm the same thing he yelled to you, “These are fucking huge too!”

A massive queen bed with a white duvet and two white blankets neatly folded at the end, two white wicker rocking chairs, a white throw rug peeking out from underneath the bed frame, white tile in an en suite bathroom like that in the kitchen cut off where the slightly darker wood floor began.

You dropped your suitcase unceremoniously in the threshold, picking your feet like Jeongguk had been before as you dug into the top pouch of the bag to retrieve a different outfit. Three splashes of water to your cheeks and a struggle with a jean button confirmed you were very much still alive and you dared to wander out into the hallway after a fight with an automatic sink faucet.

There was one more bedroom half the size of the one you’d claimed on your side of the hall, one you inspected with a quiet hum, dragging the door shut behind you as your sweeping steps brought you back outside. The false sense of serenity your anxious mind had calmed you into immediately erased when there was a figure standing at the head of the stairs, forcing a scream from your lips.

“It’s me—” But it didn’t look like Jeongguk, not the Jeongguk you were used to anyway. Neatly pressed black slacks falling neatly around his ankles, a black baggy top that curled into his elbows with vertical blue stripes cutting down the surface of the fabric, the material tugged and cinched with a thin belt at the point of his thin waist, new jewelry curled over his exposed wrists and collarbones and fingers, hair slightly damp and parted effortlessly.

“What the fuck?” You barked.

He glanced down at his shirt, picking at one of the loose buttons and then finally deciding to do it up, a muted, “Does this look okay?” catching in his throat when you rushed for him, catching his wrists and quickly undoing his previous action. He was flushed harsh at the neck when you glanced up at him, sheepish in the smile that crossed the own heat flaming through your stature.

“Yes,” You affirmed, “You look great, but…”

“But—”

“Aren’t I supposed to do your hair?”

Jeongguk blinked at the pink in his cheeks worsened. “Yeah, I was thinking…” He seemed to wince but you knew it as embarrassment, “Maybe you could curl it for me some time? More of a wave than what’s naturally there...you know.”

You eyed one of the wispy strands that swayed out over the top of his ear, not included in the wet swipe of his brush through his tresses.

“What do I look like?” You teased, grabbing his wrist to tug him down the stairs two at a time, “Your stylist?”

“Jeon Jeongguk and…” The man behind the counter trailed off, reading your name a bit quieter from the front of a blue file folder with a raised eyebrow. You nodded with a smile nonetheless, nudging Jeongguk who was still fixated on an oak tree sized fern resting in front of the sleek wall beyond the counter.

“Perfect,” His chair clicked across the plastic mat underneath the wheels, head disappearing into a file cabinet before returning with two laynards. He passed them across the desk, blank ID badges encased in thick plastic sleeves that would earn you clearance. “Your headshot will accompany the ID—” He was addressing Jeongguk point blank, “—once you take an appropriate one. Company protocol.”

Jeongguk passed you one lanyard, untangling his absently and he inquired softly, “...when will those be taken?”

The man frowned, “In just a few moments? Were you not aware?”

“I thought we had a meeting scheduled with Park Jimin,” You drew the man’s attention to you, stretching the lanyard around your neck.

“Oh, you do,” He smiled, “His meeting is running late, so we’re going to send you to the studio first.”

“We weren’t prepared for a shoot…” Jeongguk tucked his own badge over his neck.

The man willingly addressed you this time, smile tight lipped as an obnoxious office phone began to ring behind him, “Well, I’m sure your extremely talented stylist will be able to make you presentable from the shoulders up, yes?”

You swallowed, “Absolutely.”

“Perfect. The studio is down the hall to the left. Follow the signs posted on the wall,” More plastic wheels clicking across the floor and the ringing silenced as he placed the speaker against his shoulder, “Now if you’ll excuse me. Hello, Kim Enterprises—”

“Hey,” Jeongguk nudged you as you trailed down the mentioned hallway, squinting at an array of plastic signs drilled in a row on the wall. He tripped when you abruptly turned, pointing to direct him instead but he just nudged you again, “You can try out the whole curling my hair thing a bit sooner than expected.”

You dared to glance away from the scattered map in your brain to the shag of his locks of his eyebrows, ones that had already begun to dry and scrunch into soft waves. “Yeah,” You nodded, nudging him in the direction of the arrow for headshot studio, “Maybe.”

There was a woman stationed outside one of the open doorways, absently scrolling through her phone and she jerked when you approached, pocketing her phone in a messy fumble. “Ah, hello!” She greeted, and you rushed for the plastic at your chest to flip it over to display your name. “You must be the new duo...Jeongguk and—” She squinted at your name, uttering it too. “—perfect!” Soft curls bounced around her shoulders and when she turned you were knocked backward by the overwhelming smell of vanilla, but it faded like her figure into the room. “If you’ll follow me…”

The room opened into rows of empty makeup counters, bright lights burning hot over the top of walls half coated in mirrors. A few of the chairs were pulled out, like they’d been used earlier in the day, and some spare makeup bags were left sprawled with the products rolled onto the white counters. The woman was standing in a far corner at a clean counter aside from a neatly packaged makeup bag, a hair dryer, and a curling iron with the cord wrapped neatly around it’s head.

“I think you’ll find this sufficient,” She chirped in reference to the items at the table. She pulled out the chair, just for extra measure. “If not, there are extra of everything in the cabinet on the far side of the room. If the skin tone is not correct, your welcome to any of the others, as well. This bag is yours for the duration of your stay so I recommend keeping it stocked so you do not waste time before shoots.”

“Other than that, have fun!” Her hand centered between Jeongguk’s shoulder blades, pushing until he followed her unspoken lead and collapsed into the chair. “Come across the hall when you’re prepared. I’ll notify our photographer of your arrival.”

He stared at you through the mirror until she’d slipped out of the room and then some, finally uttering slow and gentle, “Uh. So, what are you going to do to me?”

You decided to place your fingers in his hair to calm yourself in the slightest, fluttering the strands in both palms, and even your teasing was absent, “I don’t know if there’s anything I can do to fix this—”

“Should you start with makeup?”

Both your gazes absently trailed to the rolled up black bag and your gradual nod came before your steps trailed to the opposite side of his chair. “I’m not going to do much…” You rambled while you discarded a liquid foundation that was a shade too light for Jeongguk for a powder one that appeared to match. “You don’t need it…”

You shook some of the substance into a tray, marveling at a clean powder brush before jabbing the soft end into the pile of dust curled in your palm. Your nose wrinkled when you moved for him, using your free hand to nudge his bangs out of the way before your internal monolog told you fuck it and the same stabbing motion became the end of the brush into the center of Jeongguk’s nose.

He spluttered and you panicked when the fallout of the clumped dust spread below to the black fabric of his shirt. “That how you do it, huh?” He spoke through powdered stained lips and you frowned, spreading it up and over his cheekbones.

“Close enough,” You finished evening out the powder before dropping the brush, reaching to dust at his shirt instead. He let you, waiting until you’d dulled the color into soft, barely there blots along the surface of his chest and watching with rapt attention as you straightened, settling curled fists onto your hips with a huff.

“I think that’s enough makeup.”

“It’s just powder.”

“Exactly. You can’t even tell it’s there—�� Jeongguk gestured to the drying and fraying mop on his head before sanctioning his hands underneath his thighs again, like you’d bite him if he moved while you worked, “—now fix my hair.”

You unraveled the cord, plugging it into the row of outlets lining the far wall before stretching the warming end of the iron toward Jeongguk’s face so quick he ducked, an attempt to loosen the perpetual frown that was carving a discolored circle into your bottom lip from the harsh suction of your teeth into the plush substance. When it didn’t work, he rounded his lips and blew upward so that the section of hair you feathered into your fingers fluttered out of your grasp. You cracked a smile then, dropping the curling iron to your side and you cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Behave.”

He giggled, a soft sound that matched the crinkle of his powdered covered nose and his hands went back to being stiff underneath his legs. “Yes, ma’am.”

If it weren’t hard enough teaching yourself to curl short strands of hair on someone else, it was worse that the someone was Jeongguk, wide eyes coated in celestial bodies peering quietly up at you, a soft encouragement paired with tender giggles when you cursed. You nudged at the last strand, waving it over the tip of his right ear and you leaned back against the counter to inspect your work.

It was his expression that faltered you now, an absent fondness that stared deep into your gaze when you met the very things that could rival any planetarium and you stuttered, “I-I think I’m done?”

“It looks good,” Jeongguk leaned forward to confirm, squinting at himself in the mirror, fixing a few strands to his liking and then he added a bit slower, “We can practice…”

A squeak left your lips and you went to cover your face because we can practice meant it wasn’t that good, but you weren’t allowed to wallow in it for long when two hands wrapped around your wrists, prying your cover away and drawing you closer until you were all but leaning over Jeongguk.

“It’s okay,” More absent swiping to your knuckles and the freckle on the center of his bottom lip prominent when dimples pressed into his cheeks, “Ready?”

You let yourself smile, “You’re the model here, Guk.”

His headshots developed instantly and were sprawled in massive print sizes on the grain of Jimin’s desk, a glaring documentation of Jeongguk’s first professional shoot, your first time curling his hair, and the endearing little smile he allowed to adorn a sliver of his teeth. But even if you found it endearing, Park Jimin’s cross expression seemed to suggest the opposite.

“Are these the ones you chose?” He mused, dragging a finger across the thing white space framing one of the photos. It was a pre-teeth smile, pulled lip dimpling the freckle on his chin, nose a second away from wrinkling at you flipping him off behind the scenes.

Jeongguk considered his affirmation as a failure and it showed in the way it slid off his tongue, “...yes?”

Another handful of heartbeats into Jimin’s silence and Jeongguk uttered, “I mean...uh. T-they probably would look a little better if you’d adjust your umbrella lights. Or, you know, purchase new ones. They seem to be out of date. And are worsening the contrast—”

A second longer and Jimin shrugged, effectively cutting off Jeongguk’s rambles, and he gripped the edge of the photograph instead, sliding it into a neat pile with the others. They were quickly slipped into a folder, one he passed aside to make room for intertwined fingers in the center of his desk.

“They’ll suffice for now,” Thin eyes studied you fully now, disregarding the hunch of Jeongguk’s shoulders in the chair next to you, snake like black peering out from beyond bleached blonde fringe, “...can I ask who you are?”

“His stylist.”

“Name?” You uttered it and Jimin nodded, leaning back into the plush back of his chair. “So is there a reason you’re here…?”

“I think I’ll need to know about Jeongguk’s future endeavors here if I’m going to, essentially, be responsible for his look—” You ignored the dry texture cracking at your tongue on the roof of your mouth with each new syllable, all the moisture instead clamming your palms that roughed out of sight on your thighs, “—don’t you think?”

He seemed impressed with that answer, two hands threading at the nape of his neck to let plush lips quirk with the raise of one eyebrow. “I think you may be correct,” Jimin drawled slowly, “You may stay.”

You bit down the sarcastic thanks for the permission because he was done targeting you, testing you, instead focusing his attention back on Jeongguk. The man fell forward again, dragging his chair closer with two hands between the languid part of his thighs before they transferred to rest on the round, plastic arms.

“It’s a relatively simple internship. We already have you booked for some very specific shoots for our advertisements and the main magazine alike. I’ll email you a calendar, but for now—” Fluffy blonde locks disappeared from view before he resurfaced with a highlighted piece of paper in hand, slapping it the table and pushing it until it fluttered at Jeongguk. “—you’ll see your shoots highlighted in pink. Anything else you need to attend is in yellow. Meetings, check ins, things of that nature.”

Jeongguk still seemed like a fish out of water so you leaned toward him and questioned, “And the green color?”

“Retreats, bonding opportunities. Things of that nature,” Something genuine sparked in the smile on Jimin’s face as he glanced at you, “Seokjin is very into the team aspect of our company. You’re welcome to any of them, assuming you have the time between other schedules.”

Jeongguk still hadn’t spoke, drilling a hole into the paper, so Jimin took the social cue to inquire, “Any other questions?”

You were about to wonder about the glaring pink and yellow overlap for the Monday of the upcoming work week when Jeongguk spoke, firm and assuring as he glanced up.

“I understand I’m here for modeling, but I’m extremely interested in photography. Independent and contracted, studio and otherwise. The times between schedules, would I be able to shadow some of your techs? Just for...the experience?”

Jimin barely faltered at the hopeful fidget of Jeongguk’s fingers in his lap, “I don’t believe we have the opening nor the time for that kind of request. I’ll check for you, but I wouldn’t count on anything.”

Translation, don’t ask questions, do what you’re here for.

“So,” Jimin was still chatting as he pushed himself off his chair, back arching into a stretch, “We’ll see you Monday morning for the cover shoot?”

You froze into standing, the hand you were about to offer to Jeongguk consulting the chair you perched in as a vice as your knuckles bled anemic into your bone, “Excuse me...the what?”

“The cover shoot,” Jimin blinked as though that should be common knowledge to two rookie interns, “Seokjin recruited you with this concept in mind. You’ll be on the front cover of the next issue of Bloom.”

More silence that Jimin was unaware to, moving around the side of his desk to make it to a row of towering file cabinets in the corner. He had the folder of Jeongguk’s headshots in hand, filtering it with careful thumbs even when you uttered a half octave softer, “Can we know what the concept is?”

Jimin smiled, the answer obvious as the mentioned cabinet rebounded audibly into a magnet placed on the inside of black metal.

“They’ll be happy to explain it to you in your pre-shoot meeting Monday.”

“What if we’re doing all this—” Jeongguk winced for the fifteenth time when you lowered the curling wand to another strand of black, “—and it’s a shoot for my feet.”

You resisted the urge to accidentally let the edge of the iron graze his cheek in the unwind from the soft wave of his tress. You shifted where you perched on the marble, letting your thighs fall further apart for his waist to lean against the edge of the counter. With a hand on his shoulder, you pushed until his eyes trained on you, slightly sheepish, slightly shameless, entirely endearing and you sighed at the last attribute.

“You think they’d put a whole ass foot on the cover of Bloom?” When he whined, you reached for another, untouched piece of hair, twisting and pressing it to the heat, “Nothing else. Just a foot. Maybe some scandalous ankle—”

Jeongguk pinched your thigh, “You’re mean.”

“This meanie can let you style your own hair and look like that on a magazine that everyone on campus is definitely going to see,” You ducked until he met your gaze again, serious despite the upward curve of your lips, “How mean am I now?”

“You’re not,” He grumbled, glancing off to the side, “You’re the best.”

“Thought so,” You let the curling iron teeter to its stand on the counter, bracing your hands on either side of you to inspect your work, “I...think we’re done.”

You resisted the urge to scream when Jeongguk ruffled searching fingers through the front, letting the styled strands fluff outward in the carefully done part you’d established with a complementary pen you’d found in a drawer in the kitchen. He arm fell limply to his side, latter tucked firmly in the unzipped pocket of his joggers and he looked at you from the winced corners of his eyes, “Does it look okay?”

You were gentle in pinched his chin between your thumb and index finger, turning his head so doe eyes were peering at your from the center of their endearing glory, but your lips fished and you hummed in Park Jimin fashion, “I mean, it’s still your face, but from what I have to work with—”

“That’s still my joke and it’s not funny anymore.”

You surprised Jeongguk and yourself when you used your grip on him to lean forward, feathering your lips to the center of his cheek, drawing a natural shade into the artificial blush you’d rubbed in light doses to his skin. “You look great, Guk,” To amend the tingle lingering on your lips, you added, “Only be, like, three-fourths as nervous as you were before.”

He disappeared from between your legs and was six steps up the spiral staircase to retrieve his bag when he managed to choke out a less than threatening, “I’ll leave your ass here alone.”

You hopped down from the counter, shuffling through the apartment to retrieve your key still stuck to its spiraling purple bracelet next to your phone that set on a charger attached to an extension cord (fatal flaw of the millions invested in the apartment: outlets placed in inept locations) when you heard two footsteps behind you, a descend on the staircase, and then a long pause.

And then, “...do you think I should change shoes just in case it is of my feet—”

You were lost on one end of a long conference table while eight experienced professionals chattered on the likes of composition and aesthetics and ambiance and the vision of the newest issue, a list of words that meant similar but different things in the digital world with the manipulation of graphics at the tips of your fingers and you were more entertained with the aesthetic of the swirl of auburn color bubbling upward in your coffee when you stirred it with the tiny black straw. You were seemingly forgotten among the bustle that ended the meeting, a cattle like usher toward the singular door when the room was barely filled anyway and you found yourself hopeless in a room three times the size of the previous one with equipment you didn’t understand, more terminology you couldn’t grasp, and an entire missing Jeongguk.

The woman from your check in was back, bringing you your makeup back with a disapproving tut, ushering you with the heel of her palm on the small of your back toward a tiny collection of tables in the corner of the studio, a shortened version of the one you’d been in the day before, and you found it all but occupied by a new set of strangers.

You nudged the roll of your bag into the only empty spot, turning in time with the soft hush that met the other individuals milling about your general vicinity and you squinted because oh god, what now?

Words like alluring, sensual, lithe could all be replaced with much simpler adjectives, one in particular that struck bluntly at the forefront of your conscious, one you wished to express to the various shoot executives mulling over a concept they could easily direct in a hands on fashion without needing a briefing. You’d thought that into the swirl of your coffee and you assumed the cloud of cream that had surfaced, breaking into various puzzle pieces outward toward the rim of the cup agreed with you.

You understood why the bolded letters of various synonyms taking up a bullet point list on two pages of an outline, a waste of space and trees, was needed because your crude, one bullet wasn’t enough to encompass the entirety of Jeongguk’s being as he made his way toward you.

All eyes were trained on the rookie subject of the shoot but he was focused on you, a soft excuse me to the woman standing in front of you as he shouldered around her to tower over you. It was Jeongguk, your Jeongguk, but you felt some fraction of what everyone else did with him that close looking like that.

Tight jeans ripped in strategic places hugging taut thighs, cuffs buttoned loosely on relaxed knuckles, a sheer black shirt coated in metallic specks tucked neatly at the cinch of his lithe waist and secured in an equal V to the dip of defined collarbones. His hair was like you’d left it but frayed from the heat and softening from the lack of product, parting more on one side than the other and flopping into his eyes that blinked curiously at you.

“Hey...hello—” Jeongguk snapped his fingers, waving his hand so you felt the brush of his palm on your nose, “—did you hear me?”

The neanderthal corner of your conscious had enough sensibility to not utter what you wanted, instead bypassing his inquiry to all but shout, “Where are your other clothes?”

“They’re...in the dressing room? With my other things?” Someone yelled something you didn’t quite catch but the slide of Jeongguk’s palm down your elbow suggested he did, “Look, they sent me to you for a last minute check. Do I fit whatever concept they were talking about?”

Your subtly was forgotten, buried by the singular word that continued to expand into your thoughts, likely dilating your pupils the same way and the culprit of the saliva that pooled back by your molars.

Graphic design didn’t mean you were above putting size seventy-two Comic Sans font onto a document to print and plaster everywhere but even Comic Sans wasn’t worthy of whatever the concept was Jeongguk embodied. Nonetheless, you let the muted scream in your throbbing head takeover.

“You look sexy, Guk.”

He flushed at his neck first, traveling around to dip into his chest but it didn’t crack at the clench of his jaw this time, something lingering in the flash of black in his irises and his throat jumped, fingers curling over your arm and you briefly forgot where you were until someone’s stature was intentionally bumping into Jeongguk’s side, breaking his grasp on you to shove him in the opposite direction.

“Shooting in five.” You felt like you were underwater, coherent enough only to register you can’t see lightening under the sea (the flash of a camera) and you were fairly certain you’d been pitched off the edge of Atlantis when you came to enough to realize the prior five was up and they’d created a makeshift “wall” (a piece of plywood coated in white plastic) for Jeongguk (the, very sexy, “model”) to lounge against with his hands shoved into his pockets.

Part of Jeongguk’s shirt had come untucked from his belt, fluttering at the apex of his thigh, and it made your fingers itch to fix it until words of encouragement from the photographers elicited him to lift the arm on that side, palm smoothing down the back of his head until he found comfort in threading long digits into wavy tendrils. The sensible part of your brain moved to fire the necessary neurons to be annoyed that he’d just touched his hair again, hair you’d practiced on all weekend, burning yourself four times and the sheets of the unoccupied bedroom of the apartment once.

But the feral cloud in your conscious won and you chose to focus on the sliver of his waist that appeared instead.

You continued to eye it as he approached you again, sensibility pouting when you didn’t acknowledge that his sweat had smeared some of his carefully applied eyeliner or the lackluster gloss left on his lips wrapped around the ribbed edge of a water bottle, by passing all of those things in favor of his neck as it jumped and gulped.

Jeongguk pulled off the water bottle with a labored breath and the only thing familiar in his stature was the slight slouch toward you, gentle fingers brushing past your wrist to grip the table behind you and lean into it.

“Good?” He breathed, heat off his aura suffocating you and you wondered is the bottom of the ocean hot? too.

“Y-yeah. Yeah! Talented. Brilliant. Incredible. Amazing. Show stopping—”

He laughed and that was sexy too, shrugging into another languid gulp of water, pointed in stretching his neck out and he held the open bottle toward you until you took it. “As good as that Vine, huh?” His teeth appeared into the teasing smile that whipped away from you as he sauntered for the array of computer monitors in the corner displaying his shots.

You fumed.

“That’s a Lady Gaga quote, dumbass.”

Your knees, crossed albeit, were digging into the side of Jimin’s thigh and for a table to be so small in a quaint corner of a bustling rooftop restaurant, it garnered well over the decibels needed to make other patrons glance your way when a round of applause waved through the group.

It was Jimin who had elicited the reaction with the piece of paper in his hand, firm and glossy and making that distinct flop noise when he’d untucked it from it’s folder pocket and maybe if you didn’t have to crane from your position next to him to see the image splayed out over the front, your knees wouldn’t be invading his space. He didn’t seem to care, wearing a charming smile that flashed over the top of your head to the man most affected by the various interest levels of stares gathered from around the general vicinity of the restaurant.

There was a chunk of steak still stabbed through the throngs of Jeongguk’s discarded fork, meticulously cut by his focus that so desperately tried to evade the situation at any given opportunity. You noticed the pink in it before the pink spreading outward on his cheeks, framing the grateful smile he gave as acknowledgement before bowing his head at the audible emissions of praise.

“Quite the cover photo,” Jimin was still speaking, on the tail end of his reveal speech. He pulled the photo away to glance at it again, “And for an amateur on their first job as well. Phenomenal, truly.”

You touched Jeongguk’s thigh and it was the strength he needed to utter his thanks, soft at first and then louder as he addressed the other occupants at the table, “Thank you. It...it means a lot—” He turned and you followed his gaze to the one individual at the table who you’d yet to hear speak, seated at the head of the table opposite Jeongguk, wearing a black waistcoat and an easy smile to petal shaped lips.

“—and thank you, Mr. Kim, for this incredible opportunity. I-I...we—” He glanced at you for permission to include you in his speech and you squeezed his thigh in encouragement, “—we wouldn’t be here without you.”

Seokjin bowed his head in a similar fashion to Jeongguk, dropped the cloth napkin scrunched in his palm to hold that hand up in solace, “You’re very welcome but please, call me Seokjin. Before you ask, my father wasn’t Mr. Kim, I just don’t want to be called that.”

Jeongguk didn’t know whether to laugh and he wasn’t the only one so Seokjin tried to amend further, “Formality is outdated. Am I right?”

Someone, a marketing tech for the specific cover shoot, murmured quietly to sate the CEO, “Correct, Seokjin.”

Other customers had gone back to their previous dinner table discussions, returning the restaurant to the dull roar of before, and your table was no exception to the seemingly mundaneness. Ice cubes against frosted glass, the click of cutlery into glass plating, an occupied silence filled with content chewing and thoughtful swallows.

Questions to proceed the cover shoot reveal.

“What exactly were you doing before this? I understand you’re still in university?”

Jeongguk didn’t have to lie on that question because Taehyung hadn’t lied on your resumes. Or your cheat sheets, depending on who was asking. You’d forced him to sit on the floor in the living room of the apartment and recite back any and everything contained on the email attachment Taehyung had begrudgingly sent you again, from the way your name and phone numbers were ordered on the header to the exact digits, a forward and back recitation of Taehyung’s phone number (a series you’d, unfortunately, never forget).

“Yes, I’m going to school for, uhm...chemistry,” He winced because that also wasn’t a lie. Unfortunately.

You kept quiet because they hadn’t asked you. On guard. On call, maybe. Eager to recite your major and list of minors like you were at a family barbecue with cousins who refused to talk to you for three years.

An impressed murmur rounded the table in a wave. “Chemistry...What will you do with that?”

Like clockwork. “Med school, possibly. Maybe teaching. Not sure yet.”

“And your modeling experience—” Now into the flashcards once stacked in the need to review pile, “—who did you say you were signed with?”

“Ah…” His knife hit in a resounding rebound through the slab of meat he was attempting to dice into another tiny cube, “Well I wasn’t really signed, I just—”

“You weren’t signed?”

You swallowed because it wasn’t Seokjin who’d ask the question but the smile on his lips had wilted into the furrow of his eyebrows, two elbows hitting the table as his fingers clasped in front of him.

“The company has changed names since then,” Jeongguk jammed the cube into his cheeks but chewing didn’t let him off the hook as ambient dinner noises paused in wait of his answer, “It’s been a while…”

“Your resume says you’ve had published billboards up until last year. Were you not signed then?”

“It’s been a while since I originally signed. I had that contract for five years time and the company changed possession three times in that period. Who knows what it’s called now, you know?”

Safe.

Your on call button beeping eagerly in the forefront of your conscious gradually flickered until it was off because your lie wouldn’t be as easy. You couldn’t produce a selfie or even a fake contact that would ring to rap superstar Kim Namjoon. Even Taehyung wasn’t that good.

“Your manager, agent, whatever you have—” It was Jimin who asked this time, curious, “—would we know him?”

“Kim Taehyung,” Jeongguk offered up the name with little hesitation and you almost choked on a clump of parmesan tickling at your throat. The cheese convinced you there were a million Kim Taehyung’s in the world, the name not your eccentric, software engineer group project partner who’d once recited the HTML of the university’s financial aid office web page to you by memory and you managed to swallow down a gulp of your ice water, cube included, with minimal tears pooling due to your choke. “He’s our manager.”

The introduction of our caused eyes to fall upon you and blinked through the bleary tears remaining in makeup coated ducts. Some of the product smeared into your eyes then, worsening the tears of pain, but no one addressed you still. You just nodded to ensure they didn’t.

The end of the meal meant goodbyes and goodbyes meant brief instances of small talk with each individual at the table. For you, they were limited to thank you for the meal. For Jeongguk, it was a sentence or two more, ones you were in earshot of.

Seokjin came last, a soft hug wrapped around your shoulders that was awkward in the way that he patted at your arm. It was a firmer hand he reached for Jeongguk a firm shake in the middle of two broad statures as he stared directly through the haphazard fringe stringing into Jeongguk’s lashes.

“Congratulations,” Another firm shake that traveled up into a pat on Jeongguk’s shoulder, “I look forward to seeing more of your work.”

You trailed Jeongguk’s pointed trek through the front door of the apartment building, taking three strides to his normal one and you tried to slow him with a tempting, “Should we go get ice cream? We should go get ice cream.”

He was slowest when in front of the elevator, jamming his middle finger into the up button. “Why should we go get ice cream?”

“To celebrate?” Your toe caught on the small gap between the ground floor and the elevator, “They seemed to really enjoy it—”

“I’d rather just go to bed,” It was harsh in delivery but his eyes softened and his chin tilted down toward you, “...if that’s okay. Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” You affirmed and as an afterthought you teased, “Beauty sleep for the superstar.”

His smile was a ghost on the dimples in his cheeks, eyes downcast so his eyelashes shadowed on his cheekbones and his head dipped away from you to stride down the hall, staying that way as he fiddled with the blue spiral on his wrist and pushed into the apartment.

Jeongguk was with you in peeling off your shoes onto a makeshift welcome mat, a plastic takeout bag from the Thai food you’d gotten the second night, before affirming again, less harsh and almost tentative, not to ask but that you’d say no and he wouldn’t get to complete his request.

“...it’s okay if I go to bed? If I leave you alone down here?”

“Yeah,” You reached to touch his wrist, feathering your fingers over his knuckles, “Maybe I’ll figure out the TV so you don’t have to do it for me every time.”

He tried to smile. It didn’t fool but you let him go anyway, watching mute as he ascended the stairs, sluggish and slow like his fingers fiddling at the buttons of his creased button up.

“Jeongguk—” He looked at you now, fingers braced on the railing, shoulders slumped as he turned, “—take your makeup off.”

“Thank you, baby,” A soft murmur that echoed in the silence of the house, “Good night…”

You tried the television twice and gave up on the third time’s the charm, trekking the route Jeongguk had made up the stairs but turning the opposite direction for your room. You saved the shower for the morning, pocketing your jewelry in an empty pouch of your suitcase, swiping a baggy t-shirt off the floor that smelled like your roommate, washed your face in the facet you’d mastered in three weeks time, tucked yourself underneath cool sheets, raising your phone to your face where it was attached to a looping extension cord plugged into yet another inopportune outlet on the far side of the bed.

A makeup tutorial that was less of a tutorial and more of a demonstration of the guru’s skill set elicited the sleep in your eyes and you’d nearly dozed off when another light peeked from your peripheral, one that startled you to lock your phone and squint.

It was Jeongguk, body language like you’d left him but pajamas on in place of his dress clothes with a blanket sanctioned over one shoulder and dragging against the ground like his sluggish footsteps. A pillow was clutched in his latter arm, squished against his chest with his chin resting on the plush surface, forming a natural pout on the purse of his lips and the wrinkle of his nose.

“Hey,” You didn’t question, the initial startle of your heart morphing into something fond and heavy in your ears that caused you to spread your arms, “Come on.”

Mindless shuffling was domestically mundane, tugging apart the made side of the bed, replacing the pillows with his, tucking the duvet at his waist and his blanket over his shoulders, shifting further into the warmth to let him drape a hand to your hip, contact, while you propped yourself up on the curve of your arm.

“You okay?” You thumbed soft strands of his fringe between your thumb and index finger and when he didn’t jerk away, you went to stroking the tresses between the spaces in your digits. It was wet, shower fresh, not dry enough to curl yet.

Jeongguk grumbled, voice muffled and raspy into his pillow that he mushed his cheek further into, “Just couldn’t sleep, is all. Your bed is comfier.”

You ignored the way his fingers fist further into your shirt at your hip. Carefully, you nodded, “You sure that’s all?”

He hummed again, a mixture of hesitation affirmation and the reaction to your nails scraping into his scalp. You repeated the motion just to hear him mewl and feel him relax, melted shoulders shifted until he was close enough to wrap an arm around the small of your back.

“The shoot turned out really well, huh?” Jeongguk snorted, the breath fanning against your neck and you frowned, “I mean, it’s really cool. That you’re going to be on the cover. Looking like that—”

“I guess.”

You went to scrunching his hair at the back of his head between your palm, “The other things we’ve been working on since...they’ll turn out great too. Who knows, maybe you can erase the foot modeling for something legitimate and credible.”

Jeongguk’s hair ruffled in your grasp when he adjusted his cheek on the pillow, pulling away from your chest to be eye level.

“You know something?”

You let your hand flop out of his hair to the pillow, “What?”

“I haven’t taken a single picture since we’ve been here. I haven’t even thought about touching my camera.”

“I hate it,” He continued, blunt with his nose crinkled at the bridge, “I miss it…”

“We have a day off in a few days. Maybe we could go exploring with it—”

“—and I can’t believe I’m saying this but I miss school. I miss being at university,” Jeongguk blinked, a prolonged blink that scrunched at more parts of his face, “Okay, I don’t miss that. I...I don’t know what I miss. It’s...something. Mostly photography probably but I think it’s just…”

“...I think it’s just knowing. I miss knowing. As in having at least a sense of what I’m doing. Where I’m going. What I want to do.”

Your features softened into something grim, nodding when he glanced at you. His laugh was bitter as he held your eye contact, “In short, I hate this. I, frankly, hate that you convinced me to do this. I...I can’t wait to go home.”

“I’m sorry, Guk, I didn’t—”

“It’s not your fault,” He breathed in, holding it, eyes closing, “Please don’t apologize. It’s been like this for a while. Me not...knowing.”

“I thought you were right. Money can fix a lot of things, like paying off my loans and tuition. But paying my tuition means I’m stuck in an unspoken contract of sorts with a major I hate that’ll propel me toward a career I’m unsure of but already hate, anyway.”

“The only thing I’m sure of is my camera,” Jeongguk shrugged, eyes open and wide and starred in natural celestials and a shimmer of tears, “and I don’t even want to touch that anymore.”

“I mean I do, but I don’t...you know?” His voice broke then, a glisten falling to his cheek now as a tear finally lipped over and you cooed, rushing forward to intercept him back into your embrace.

“What’ll make it better?” You held him with two arms around his neck, cheek pressed into the damp strands at the crown of his head.

“Don’t know. Leaving probably. But...I’m not going to do that. It’d make me feel worse. Quitting, you know.”

“What can I do? Anything? I already made you come here…”

Jeongguk pulled away from the damp spot he’d rounded on the collar of your shirt and the base of your throat, cheeks blotchy and tearful and he scolded, “I told you not to worry about it. I’m the hot mess.”

“Yeah, but you’re my best friend,” You thumbed at his cheek, collecting the drying tears, “My hot mess.”

You didn’t expect Jeongguk’s strawberry tulip bud lips to taste like salt the first time you kissed but you cleared the culprit of the taste with your thumbs while he pressed desperate affections into the seam of your mouth, holding you tight to him at the waist. You let him because you wanted it too but took his lull for a breath to cup his face, still working at clearing the fresh wave of tears on his cheeks while you hushed, “Not now.”

“M’sorry,” He apologized this time, a messy blubber through your tender touch, “I didn’t—I didn’t want to do it like this.”

“If I don’t get to apologize, neither do you,” You kissed his nose in lieu of his lips, “You can kiss me all the time once you figure you out.”

Jeongguk sniffled, “Be careful. That’s incentive.”

“Maybe that’s why I said it,” You kissed his eyelid in tandem with another swipe underneath it and you mirrored the action on the opposite side, “And you never answered me. What can I do?”

He smiled when he noisily advertised the snot in his nostrils this time, squeezing your hips, “Just be you. You’re the last thing I photographed.”

“You’ll always be the thing I photograph.”

You were halfway through waving a strand of his hair down the battery powered wand in your hand, an online purchase with your second intern check. It was a seasoned movement now, easier with his hair that had grown without cut since you’d been in the city. It was an advertisement shoot, a casual look that would be perched above bar codes and brand affiliates on the back page of the magazine.

“Crouch for me,” You paired it with a light smack to his shoulder, catching attention where it had wandered to a loose strand on the baggy t-shirt draped over his stature. Jeongguk was purposeful in being awkward, bending at the waist and the knees and he dramatically sat a hand on his thigh, cocking a hip out and sticking his tongue out at you.

“Better?”

“I can’t stand you—”

“Is it their break?”

You managed to maneuver your surprise into the jerk of the curling wand away so it didn’t burn Jeongguk, both of you glancing toward the new presence in the room. It was a frantic looking intern from the front desk, one that came and went on an odd schedule you couldn’t quite pinpoint but he looked two seconds away from tearing his hair out at the roots anyway. When the photographer nor the set manager didn’t respond, he took it as an affirmation, forward in grabbing Jeongguk’s arm to tug and motioning you with his free appendage.

“I guess it is now,” You exchanged a glance with Jeongguk when the intern scoffed, not letting go of the larger man before him until you were halfway down the hallway and an abrupt turn to another later.

“You’re needed with one of the head executives.”

The cover shoot magazine was set to go in print within the next few days and urgent around the studio meant they went about airbrushing the static in Jeongguk’s curled hair a different way and were seeking approval of the talent. You assumed Jimin was about to tutt in disapproval when you couldn’t see the smudge his stocky finger was gesturing to on the life sized image plastered across the center of his desk.

But you turned past the sign indicating his office and you almost parted your mouth to gently correct the frazzled twenty-something, help him out for something that was bound to be corrected anyway, but he paused in front of an office, that office, one with a name plate bigger than the rest and the only one displaying the company logo in tandem.

“Seokjin requested to see you personally,” The intern knocked but didn’t look inside, just propped the door open and gestured, “In you go.”

An excuse was on the tip of your tongue and you ran into Jeongguk on the way to express it but the intern had already coaxed at Jeongguk’s larger stature and you both were shoved into a shut room before your brain could even process that I have to use the bathroom on the first floor because that’s the only soap I’m not allergic to wasn’t a viable excuse.

“Hello,” The sheer size of Seokjin’s size seemed to swallow his broad shoulders even in the tight hug of a navy suit jacket to the definition of his shape but the enormity contrasted to the warmth in his voice, smile, and eyes as all gestured for the open chairs turned inward toward his desk. “Please, have a seat.”

He shuffled at two specific sets of papers as you tripped over Jeongguk’s ankles for the same chair, catching and narrowly avoiding a spill of an empty piece of furniture. You settled as the horror set in of what sets of papers Seokjin held, stapled leaves taken from the same blue file folders you’d been greeted with on day one.

You were useless in noticing you’d left your ID badge in the studio, too.

“I ran your references, out of curiosity…” Seokjin bent the papers in hand at the thumb, “Tell me about Kim Taehyung.”

“That’s our manager,” A robotic answer spoke in monotone, Jeongguk’s blank gaze on the turtle paperweight perched on the edge of Seokjin’s desk suggesting the same type of mechanical movement.

“Your manager is a member of two seperate government watch lists for hacking low level search engines?”

Your eyes bulged and you forgot your role, “He is?”

“I don’t know,” Seokjin smiled gently, “but he probably should be if he isn’t. He’s not very subtle about it. Between him and the conspiracy theorist…”

“Yoongi,” You breathed, “Yeah...probably.”

“You—” He shuffled deeper into his array of papers, plucking one specific piece out to slide across the desk at Jeongguk. You recognized it as a screenshot of his online portfolio, the chosen album one of fresh summer wildflowers (weeds, you’d informed him behind the scenes) from the summer prior, “—you’re very talented.”

“And you…” This time a screenshot of your commissions profile, various examples of your work scattering the black and white screen cap, “You have an eye for design. My layout team could learn a thing or two from you.”

“I checked with your university and don’t worry, not your grades. I don’t care about those numbers frankly…” He tapped on something on the top paper in his pile, “Your majors. You didn’t lie about those. Graphic design, that suits your passions, from what I can tell at least.”

You nodded.

“But chemistry?” Seokjin blinked, “I can’t imagine that fulfills you in the slightest. You said you plan to be a doctor?”

“I don’t know,” Jeongguk answered, quick and honest and for once he didn’t slump into the answer. “You’re right. It doesn’t.”

“Can I let you in on some cheesy but true advice?”

More nodding, this time from both.

“It’s not worth it if it doesn’t fulfill you. Certainly not something so far in left field from what you clearly love to do. I said I didn’t care about grades but…” Seokjin cocked his head, a knowing smile on his lips, “Those grades don’t match someone who's passionate about their field.”

“I’m going to have to pull the cover shoot, for obvious reasons. I’ll have to send you home as well, with the rest of your internship pay, of course.”

You rushed to deny that in the same sentence that Jeongguk did, apologetic and hot at the neck when Seokjin held up a hand.

“You get the pay on one condition. You go home and do something with it. Something something, not just continue on with that boring chemistry degree.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I told you to call me Seokjin but I’m going to change that, too—” Seokjin stood, rounding his desk for a handshake that Jeongguk rushed to straighten and intercept, “—call me Jin when you book your first photography gig, alright? Even if it’s just your conspiracy theorist friend and his fried chicken looking poodle.”

Jeongguk laughed, loud and unabashed and you were the first person he directed his joy at, only causing your elation to grow tenfold in your heart.

“You too, after you design the new McDonald’s logo or something. I’m getting pretty tired of those golden arches…”

You thumbed at the tassel dangling off the graduation cap flopped top down on the edge of Jeongguk’s mattress. It fit Jeongguk’s head better than yours, so you brought it over for him to borrow so that the fight in the bookstore was one less stress his graduation checklist had to suffer from.

“Taunting me with that?” Jeongguk’s neck hinged over the side of the bed, blinking backward at you.

You glared, breaking away from the yellow fringe to crouch in front of his face, squishing his cheeks together to plant a chaste kiss on the exaggerated pout of his lips. One of many you’d planted on him after he’d met with his advisor to change his track from chemistry to digital imaging, adding an extra summer semester onto his graduation while he watched you take your leatherbound diploma in only muted jealousy from beyond the lens of his obnoxious camera obscuring the view of a dad in a Hawaiin shirt and sandals.

Your headshot, the original one you’d taken messily after burning your arm and testing eyeliner thickness over the same mark, was framed in his room but not hung, leaning against the wall where he’d nailed a hanger but couldn’t get the cheap balsa wood to center. You pointed to it, “Taunting me with that?”

“No,” He reached for you, grabby hands until you stepped into his embrace, allowing him to pull you down onto his bed, “I think you look cute.”

“I think you’re a sap.”

“I think I’m allowed to be considering you’re moving next week.”

“You’re renting a space in my bed in eight weeks,” You sat up to poke his nose, “We both lose.”

Jeongguk pouted, “Hey.”

You just grinned, “Hey, what?”

“That was the best part of that internship,” He marveled, blissful as his eyes shut, “Living together.”

“Oh yeah? Not the whole introspective finding myself thing?”

“Nope—” The fullness of his teeth shined even as his eyelashes stayed glued, “—the whole getting to cuddle the secret love of my life thing.”

“It wasn’t that secret.”

“It was.”

“Hmm, okay,” You folded your arms at your chest to prop yourself up on his stomach, “Speaking of secrets. Have you checked your phone?”

“Did Yoongi add us to another group chat?”

You snorted, “Check your phone.”

You huffed when Jeongguk used the top of your head to hold his phone, thumb flexing against your forehead as it scrolled, and you giggled when all his motions, breathing included, gradually stalled.

“Did Taehyung figure out how to hack email addresses too?” When you didn’t respond, Jeongguk peered at you underneath his thumb, “Ha-ha, very funny.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I got another email from Jin.”

“Oh, that,” You grinned, “Yeah, I do know about that.”

He grumbled, thumb moving into action again as he clicked around, opening the email and enlarging the font to read.

“Jeongguk. I’m happy to hear you’re graduating soon and in something you seem to enjoy! It just so happens that we have an opening here in our photography department and we’re seeking someone with your exact credentials. I’ve reviewed your updated profile and can’t say I’m anything less that thoroughly impressed. If you can provide me with an updated, and legitimate, resume, the spot will be yours upon graduation.”

“Thanks for not spending my money on booze,” Jeongguk added with a laugh, “Seokjin (Or Jin. Just not sir. Or Mr. Kim).”

“Really?” You rewarded his face with a kiss to his chin, moving the affections up his cheek as he marveled, “They really want to hire me?”

“They really want to hire you. For real, this time.”

“But...but wait—” He stopped you with the heel of his palm into the center of your forehead and you huffed, “We...we just got things figured out. And I’m going to have to move closer to the company…”

You did your best to plaster indignation onto your features, “You really think you’re going to get away with leaving your stylist here?”

Jeongguk’s eyes bulged, hopeful but not following, “...what?”

“Grab my phone for me.”

He happily obliged in dipping his hand into the back pocket of your jeans, handing you the device with a smile but deeply concerned, singular, eyebrow. You huffed, fumbling at the screen of your phone until you pulled up your own email, one you’d received two weeks ago and you enlarged the font to hand to Jeongguk.

He frowned through his intense scanning before whining, “Is this why you wouldn’t tell me anything about your job offer?”

“Yes.”

“...did he hire you to run the design department?”

“Not yet but I am working there.”

“...so we’re not getting that apartment back home?”

“Nope.”

“...are we still moving in together?”

“Absolutely.”

An extra silence and you could feel the gears churning behind his skull in the rapid thrum of his heart at your palm, “...back to the previous apartment?”

“I don’t think that’s available anymore but no. I asked for something a bit more our taste.”

“So we can buy real welcome mats this time?” Jeongguk propped himself up on his elbows, curling his stature so you were drawn closer to his face and he happily rubbed his nose to yours.

“You didn’t like our bachelor pad chic decor?”

He ignored you, “And can we build IKEA tables together? Oh, what about name our apartment, you know, like people name their cars—”

#bts reactions #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts x reader #jungkook imagines #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenario #jungkook fluff #fic: dare to begin #AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH IT'S DONE!!

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yourkeeperoftherunners · 4 years

Text

6/2: Working From Home (Hyena Hybrid!Seokjin)

Rating: G

Characters: Hyena Hybrid!Seokjin x Reader (any gender)

Notes: Day 2 of my birthday surprise series. This is part of the Misunderstood Hybrid headcanons I wrote for BTS a while back. Please note that working from home can refer to anyone who does this and it does not specifically reference the current events. I got the idea to write short blurbs after seeing some comical pictures and moments in video conference calls of pets “helping” their owners work. All content is fictional. Please do not repost anywhere!

————–

“Good morning Jagi!”

You emerged from your bedroom to see Seokjin standing by the kitchen table, an apron hanging from his neck. The table was set with two plates of breakfast foods and two mugs by each place setting.

The hyena hybrid’s bright smile faded to a concerned pout when he saw you were dressed in a plain t-shirt and sweatpants. While he knew these weren’t the clothes you slept in last night, part of him worried that you weren’t feeling well.

“Jagi, is everything all right? Are you sick?” he asked, raising a hand to touch your forehead. “If you’re feeling sick, you should lie down and I’ll take care of you!”

You shook your head and slowly removed his hand from your forehead. “No, no, I’m fine,” you reassured him. “I’m not sick – I’m dressed casually because today I’m working from home. There’s no need for me to wear my normal work attire when I’m here.”

Jin relaxed at the news that you were fine and quickly pulled out your chair, gesturing for you to sit down. He waited until you were comfortable before he took his seat across from you and put his napkin in his lap.

“I’m sorry for worrying, but normally I don’t see you in lounge clothes unless we’re going to bed or you’re feeling sick,” he apologized. “But you didn’t tell me you were working from home today!”

You tried to recall if you shared the news with him, but couldn’t recall if the topic ever came up last week. Seokjin watched as you struggled to remember and he reached across the table to touch your hand.

“Don’t worry Jagi, it’s fine,” he said. “So, what are you doing today? Hopefully not too much.”

You placed your phone on the table and unlocked it to take a closer look at the schedule your boss sent you. You used your finger to scroll through the daily schedule and noted you had two video conference call meetings and some logs you needed to complete and send out on the animals at the reserve, Seokjin’s included.

“Two video conference call meetings and then a lot of digital paperwork,” you shared. “You can do whatever you want, I just ask that you try to keep the noise down during the meetings.”

————–

Once you finished breakfast, Seokjin insisted he would handle the clean-up, despite your protests. He calmly guided you to your home office and instructed you to work hard, but not too hard.

“Besides, the sooner you’re done, the sooner we can spend the rest of the day together!” he reasoned with a charming smile. He watched as you closed yourself in the office and rolled up his sleeves.

He cleared the table and rinsed the dishes, before sticking them in the dishwasher. He washed his hands and dried them on a towel. As he removed his apron, he scanned the kitchen table to make sure he hadn’t missed anything in the clean-up.

His eyes drifted to the clock and he noted that it was still early. While you had finished breakfast moments ago, he knew he wanted to start thinking about a plan for lunch, so it was ready to go. He walked over to the fridge and opened it, surveying the shelves with a hum.

He spotted some greens you bought on Saturday and the salmon you bought yesterday for Monday’s dinner, but never got around to cooking. He dug through the drawers and found a lemon, smiling as a light bulb went off in his head.

————–

“How is he doing?” the reserve manager asked you.

“Seokjin? He’s doing fine,” you replied. “Diet has been healthy, he’s been in good shape, and he’s not gotten sick. Temperament has been positive and he’s not regressed to old habits.”

The manager nodded, his face enlarging on the computer screen. One of the other reserve keepers took notes on Seokjin’s progress and said it seemed consistent with past reports.

“Sir, I think we’ve proven he is not a threat in the care of a human,” your colleague noted. “I think our past notes on his behavior may have had to do with too much repetition and little freedom.”

You were about to chime in when you heard Seokjin knock on the door and enter with a tray.

“Lunch time! I made you a healthy salmon salad with a bit of lemon!” he announced with a big smile. He placed the tray in front of you, then realized you were on one of those video calls. “Oh! Is that Manager-nim? Hello, can you see me?”

He leaned down so his head was in the camera shot and waved brightly. The reserve manager couldn’t help but smile back as he greeted Seokjin.

“I’m glad to see you’re doing well and you’re keeping Y/N healthy too,” the manager noted.

“Wow, now I want a salmon salad,” your colleague sighed as she eyed the salad through her screen.

Seokjin noticed your colleague’s screen enlarge on yours after she spoke and his eyes widened. He waved at her and turned to look at you in wonder.

“Her picture got bigger! Why did that happen?”

“Whenever someone talks on the call, their video image gets bigger on our screens to show they’re talking right now,” you explained. “Actually, I was telling them that you’ve made great progress Jin and you’re a joy to have.”

Jin tried to look modest and he took this moment to wrap you in a big sideways hug. “It’s only because of you!” He looked at the screen again and wiggled his fingers at the reserve manager and your colleague. “I won’t disturb your meeting anymore, I just wanted to give Y/N some lunch.”

He straightened up and bid everyone goodbye, before exiting the office and closing the door quietly behind him.

“We’ve not had him interact with a lot of human technology, have we?” you colleague mused as she flipped through her notes.

“No, he doesn’t do a lot of stuff with tech,” you confirmed. “He knows how a TV works and he has a very basic understanding of how the internet and a computer works. But I’ve not exposed him to all of the functions yet.”

Your reserve manager looked thoughtful and tapped his pen to his lips.

“Perhaps...we should examine this? Working from home has shown to increase productivity and it would be interesting to see how he handles human communication methods beyond what we’ve used at the reserve,” he proposed.

“REALLY?!”

You whipped your head around and scolded Seokjin through the door for eavesdropping.

“I have good hearing! I was not eavesdropping!” he yelled back.

#BTS Jin #BTS Jin hybrid AU #BTS Misunderstood Hybrids #kim seokjin au #BTS AU #Kim Seokjin #tw: working from home #yourkeeperoftherunners original #number 2999

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icecoldflames · 4 years

Text

Chapter 8 - The Mystery of Sanders Castle

Masterlist

Previous Chapter

***

“What is it?” Roman asked for the thousandth time, trailing after Patton the next morning. Satomi was at his side, just as excited as he was.

Patton grinned, glancing over his shoulder at them. “I’m walking as fast as I can without sprinting through the halls. Here, look.” He gestured to his own dorm door and pushed it open. “I think all of my roommates are at breakfast.”

“You have Logan’s bedroom,” Satomi said in awe, managing to squeeze her way past Roman so she could enter second. “That’s totally cool. I wish my dorm was here. All I have is a lousy guest bedroom.”

“Well, what is it?” Roman asked again, beginning to get even more impatient than he already was. “I don’t think I can take it much longer!” “Alright, alright,” Patton said with a laugh and kicked over a colourful rug to reveal the wooden floor.

Roman watched with bated breath as Patton kneeled down and ran his fingers over the boards carefully. He paused at one specific spot and dug his fingernails between the boards. They creaked and eventually gave way, half of the board flipping up so it looked like a seesaw. Patton pulled up a couple more boards so the three of them could get down into the little room below.

Once the three of them got in, Roman was pleasantly surprised by how roomy it was. There was a small desk and two chairs with plenty of extra space.

“Whoah, even I didn’t know about this place,” Satomi said, stomping her feet on the stone floor and inspecting the chairs.

“I found this place last year,” Patton explained with a smile. “I was studying for exams one night and I think I was a little loopy. I had heard there were secret rooms and passageways in the castle and wondered if my dorm had them. I took what was supposed to be a thirty minute break and happened upon this place. Cool, huh?”

Roman eyed the desk and noticed a dark book. As he reached out to grab it, Satomi smacked his hand away. “Don’t touch that unless you’ve got gloves! We don’t want your fingerprints and finger oils all over it!”

“Uh,” Patton said, scratching his neck awkwardly, “I already touched it plenty of times before.”

Satomi crossed her arms, miffed, and stood on one of the chairs so she could climb out of the secret room. “I’ll be back in a sec. Don’t touch anything else while I’m gone. You hear me? Nothing.”

Five minutes later, Satomi came back in with three pairs of disposable, blue, gloves the hospital would have and a notebook and pencil. “They’re non-latex,” she added in as she passed them out.

Roman wondered how often Satomi used these disposable gloves. He pictured a box of them on her nightstand in her dorm.

“Now you can pick up the book,” Satomi said with a nod, laying her notebook and pencil on the desk.

Roman greedily reached his hands out to pick up the thick book. He flipped to the first page. The handwriting was so loopy and regal it was almost too hard to pick out.

This diary belongs to Philomena Scharf

Satomi grabbed the book out of Roman’s hands. “Sorry,” she muttered apologetically as she began flicking through the pages quickly, her eyes roving over the writing. Was she a really fast reader or was she just looking through the diary to find one specific word? Whatever Satomi was thinking was something important, Roman could tell. The tension in the room was crushing.

“What is it?” Patton asked, looking over her shoulder, eyebrows furrowed.

Satomi hadn’t finished flicking through when Roman could practically see the light bulb go off in her head. “I think Philomena is the founder of this school! Her handwriting is exactly like Ronan’s,” Satomi said, putting down the journal.

“Are you sure?” Patton asked, scratching his head. “We learned about Ronan M.V. Gighe-Lapillio in history class and I did a project on him. Him actually being Philomena doesn’t really make sense. I mean, just the fact that—” Patton’s eyes went as large as saucers.

“What is it?” Satomi demanded impatiently.

Patton picked up the notebook and pencil Satomi had laid down and began scrawling something on it, biting his lip in the process. “Have you ever thought…” he began, then trailed off as he erased something. “Have you ever thought,” Patton tried again, “that the M and V in Ronan’s name doesn’t actually stand for anything in particular?” He threw the notebook down on the desk in victory, a smug smile on his face.

Both Roman and Satomi looked down at the page in curiosity.

Ronan M.V. Gighe-Lapillio

R O N A N M V G I G H E L A P I L L I O

L O G A N V I R G I L P H I L O M E N A

Logan & Virgil & Philomena

Roman slowly turned to Satomi and Satomi slowly turned to look at Roman. They both swiveled to look at Patton.

“H-how?” Satomi asked, shocked. She picked up the notebook and began double-checking it, chewing the top of her pencil as she did.

“I knew all those word-scrambling apps I downloaded on my phone would be useful one day,” Patton said with a grin. “I kinda got obsessed this summer. Remy said I had a problem.”

“This is incredible! This proves that the three of them didn’t die in the resistance attack!” Satomi exclaimed, jumping up and down. “I have to show mom! I have actual proof this time instead of theories without evidence…”

Roman picked up Philomena’s journal idly as Satomi kept rambling on, and flipped to a page that seemed close to where Satomi had left off. His parents always complained about how kids these days couldn’t read handwriting and it hadn't really bothered him except now because it took him a good minute to decode a word like “especially” in Philomena’s writing.

A small piece of ripped paper delicately fell to the floor. Satomi stopped speaking and all three of them looked at it for a good minute before Roman bent down to pick it up.

The page was yellowed with age and one corner seemed to be burnt. Roman recognized the handwriting from the alleged letters between Prince Logan and Prince Virgil. This time, the handwriting was easier to read.

“This is a ruined letter anyway,” Roman read aloud. “I will burn this once I let some of my thoughts out. Yesterday, I told everyone I was going for another walk to pick up Virgil’s letter. I don’t think I can use that excuse anymore as Lillian looked at me rather oddly. I believe she’s becoming suspicious of me and all my walks. Maybe I’ll get Mabel to distract her next time. If there is a next time. It takes too long to write letters then find a good time to walk into the woods and then wonder when Logan will respond and take another walk. It’s worth it, though. I’m glad—” Roman paused, furrowing his eyebrows. “That’s all that’s there.”

Satomi inspected Philomena’s journal. “There’s nothing in here about that letter. I assume when Logan burned the letter he didn’t burn all of it and Philomena found it later on. Although you would think she’d write about it in her diary…” she said, trailing off.

“What about that?” Patton asked, pointing at the diary.

Roman quickly wrapped around Satomi to see what the two of them were goggling at. “Oh,” he breathed. Two full pages were blacked out with what looked like charcoal. None of the words on those pages were readable.

“Why would she do that?” Roman asked.

“Either Virgil and/or Logan did it without Philomena’s permission or Philomena did it herself after Virgil and/or Logan asked her to,” Satomi said.

“You think it’s possible she was in on the secret?” Roman said.

“Of course. After all, the person she was supposed to marry ended up with her brother. I don’t think it would be really easy to hide that kind of thing,” Satomi replied with a roll of her eyes. She straightened her spine in excitement, “c’mon, we gotta show my mom! First, we got to go to my dorm and pick up the biography of Ronan so we can prove the handwriting is the same as Philomena’s.”

Satomi’s dorm was in the basement close to the kitchens. She shared it with five other girls. “Apparently a couple of valets used to live here,” Satomi explained with a shrug as she grabbed the biography. And then they were off again.

The three of them rushed through the hallways and up the stairs to Ms. Yano’s classroom where she was quietly organizing her books.

“Mom! Mom! You gotta take a look at what we found! You’re not going to believe this!” Satomi practically yelled, sprinting to the desk and dropping Philomena’s diary, Ronan’s biography, and the notebook on it with a loud bang.

Ms. Yano turned around and cocked her head to the side. “Yes?” She asked with a closed lip smile, her eyes wide in false-listening. She sat down behind her desk but she looked like she would rather be anywhere but.

“Mom, look,” Satomi opened up Philomena’s diary and then a page in Ronan’s biography. “Patton’s room is Prince Logan’s old room and we found Philomena’s diary in a secret room below.” She began explaining everything, pointing to the notebook where Patton had unscrambled Ronan’s long name into the two princes and Philomena’s names.

Ronan and Patton listened excitedly and watched as Ms. Yano’s face grew more interested in what her daughter had to say.

Patton silently took off his gloves and gave them to Ms. Yano who quickly put them on and instantly picked up Philomena’s diary. “Amazing…although I wonder why it wasn’t found earlier…”

Satomi showed the half-burned piece of paper written by Virgil. “And this is a messed up letter Prince Virgil wrote!” She pulled out her phone and brought up the pictures of the letters they had seen at the library. “The handwriting matches up perfectly to whoever ‘Sweet Violet’ is. Which is Prince Virgil. Which means my theory that he and Prince Logan were in a romantic relationship is fully backed up!” Satomi breathed in deeply and grinned excitedly. “What d’ya think?”

“Am I…interrupting something?” A voice asked.

Roman snapped his head around and saw Headmistress Crespo in the doorway, looking much less regal with her honey-blonde hair piled on top of her head and in a simple t-shirt and jeans.

Satomi deflated and she scowled at the headmistress. “You are, actually.”

Ms. Yano shot a glare her daughter’s way before bringing her attention back to Headmistress Crespo. “I’m sorry, Emilia. My daughter and her friends were just showing me something.” She stood up from her desk.

“I brought the book you were looking for, the librarian had it under her desk which is why it took so long…” the headmistress met Satomi’s cold gaze and trailed off. “Maybe I could come back some other time…?”

“That would be a good—” Satomi began but her mom cut her off.

“No, stay. This is important and you should probably know about it too.” Ms. Yano cocked her head to the side and looked over at Satomi. “Would you mind explaining it to her?”

“I would mind, actually,” Satomi said, stubbornly sitting down at one of the front desks. “You always say you listen when I’m talking so let’s see if you were telling the truth. Tell Emilia what we figured out.”

Ms. Yano’s cheeks flushed a little and her eyebrows drew down in anger. “Young lady, that is no way to treat your elders. You should call your headmistress by her proper title.”

Roman and Patton exchanged a glance. Maybe they should leave? They both inched closer to the exit.

“And by her proper title do you mean step-mother? Is that any way to treat dad?” Satomi yelled, stomping her foot, her voice cracking.

Both Ms. Yano and Headmistress Crespo took in a sharp breath at the same time, glancing nervously between each other.

Satomi crossed her arms as Ms. Yano rushed to her door to quickly close and lock it. Roman and Patton seemed to be invisible at the moment. “I saw you two together when me and mom were supposed to have our nightly hot chocolates in her room. I open my door and what do I see? My mom and another woman locking lips!”

Headmistress Crespo gulped.

“Satomi…” Ms. Yano said gently. “Please, calm down, I can explain.”

“You can explain why you’re cheating on dad? Why, in every aspect, you’re a cruddy mom? You never listen to me and every time I say something you always have to find a way to criticize it. Oh, Prince Logan and Prince Virgil were in a secret relationship? Satomi,” she said, raising the pitch of her voice, “there’s absolutely no facts on that theory, oh, you can be so funny.” Her voice went back to normal, “and that was that. You didn’t even think about them as a possibility. Because everything I say you never take into consideration!”

Ms. Yano looked close to crying, she was as still as a statue. Roman felt very out of his depth and wanted to leave. “Satomi,” she said, “you have every right to be angry—”

Satomi looked up at her mom defiantly, chin raised high, “you’re absolutely right. And dad has every right to know what his wife’s been up to these past couple of years when he’s been having a grand ol’ time in Germany, huh, mom?” She grabbed her phone off the desk.

Pure panic took over both women’s faces but Headmistress Crespo was the first to speak. “Satomi, I know our relationship has been…rough.”

“Understatement of the decade,” Satomi said, searching for her dad’s contact on her phone.

Headmistress Crespo held her breath. “I’m not a descendant of the Sanders,” she said, all in one rush, bursting out crying.

This made Satomi pause for a second. “You want me to feel bad for you?” She continued on scrolling. “I’ve known that from the first time I’ve met you. Ah, here it is.”

“I’m actually related to the old head chef, Emese, not even actual royalty,” Headmistress Crespo continued, her mascara beginning to go spidery.

Ms. Yano stepped up to comfort her but one look from Satomi made her freeze. “You never told me about that,” Ms. Yano said softly. “Weren’t her and the queen good friends?”

Roman could hear the quiet ringing of Satomi’s phone.

“They used to be,” Headmistress Crespo wailed, pulling hair out of her mouth. “But then Emese blackmailed Queen Alice into doing her bidding because she knew that the queen had an illegitimate baby with the king before their marriage!” She broke down into even more sobbing.

“What?” Satomi said sharply. “Queen Alice and King James had another child before Prince Logan?”

Headmistress Crespo nodded. “I’ve heard you tell people that I’m fake royalty and it’s true. I'm incredibly sorry for what I’ve done to your family. I don’t want to be my ancestor and do horrible things to people. I know you won’t forgive me but please let myself and Akemi be the ones to tell your dad.”

“Squirt? That you?” A male’s voice asked, coming from Satomi’s phone.

Satomi didn’t say anything. She stared at Headmistress Crespo, hard.

“Satomi? You okay?” Satomi’s dad tried again, a little more worry in his voice. “Are you there?” He paused. “Akemi?”

“Uh, hi dad!” Satomi finally said, her voice strained. “Sorry, I must’ve butt dialed you.”

“Well, shoot. How have you been doing?”

Satomi glanced around nervously and breathed a sigh of relief when the loud bell rang. “Oh sorry, dad, I’ve got to go. That’s the warning bell. Call you later? Our usual time?”

“Of course. See ya squirt, have fun at school!” The line went dead.

Ms. Yano and the headmistress both visibly sighed out in relief. “Thank you, Satomi.” Headmistress Crespo had stopped crying and was pulling out her bun and beginning to redo it.

“I didn’t do it because of you,” Satomi said sharply, glaring at the headmistress. “Dad should hear that his wife’s been unloyal from his wife, not his daughter. But you better do it sooner rather than later,” she added, pointing a finger at her mom.

“Of course,” Ms. Yano said with a nod and the room was thrusted into awkward silence.

“This, uh, illegitimate royal child…” Roman began, awkwardly clearing his throat. “You don’t suppose that’s who I’m descended from?”

“That would make sense,” Satomi said, seemingly unbothered by the fact that she had just had a very personal conversation in front of two people who were not part of the picture. She turned to Headmistress Crespo glaringly. “What do you know about Queen Alice’s firstborn?”

“Not much, I’m afraid. All I know is that the little guy wasn’t even named—he was sent off to some other kingdom and put up for adoption practically the moment he was born. It would almost be impossible to figure out what happened to him.”

The late bell rang and seemed to break everyone out of their stupor. Headmistress Crespo walked over to Ms. Yano’s desk and ripped out two pages from Satomi’s notebook. “I’ll write you three late passes, then you should probably hurry along to your classes.”

“Satomi?” Ms. Yano asked as they were about to leave the room. “Why don’t you come up to my room for hot chocolate tonight after your call with your dad? You can tell me about anything you want. I’ll listen. I’m sorry I haven’t been paying much attention to you recently. I wanted to give you some space since you’re getting older and I, myself, find it hard to pay attention for long periods of time when others are talking. I’m going to try to get better, I swear. What do you say?”

Satomi looked at her mom for the longest time before finally nodding. “Sounds like a plan.”

***

“I’ve always loved surprises and mysteries but I think I’m all mystery-ed out,” Roman said, following Satomi down to the basement. It was a couple weeks later and everything seemed a bit smoother. Satomi and her mom were having nightly get-togethers whenever they could, Ms. Yano’s husband was arriving at Violet Branch in a couple of weeks, and Patton was officially going to stay home next year for his senior year with his boyfriend.

“This is the last one,” Satomi said. “I thought I should probably share this place with someone else,” she added in with a shrug. She stopped at her dorm door and knocked. “Anyone in there?” She cracked open the door and peeked inside. “Empty. Come on in.”

“Where are we going?” Roman asked hesitantly, glancing around the large room.

“I found this place one evening in the summer a couple of years ago running from Crespo after I put glitter in her shampoo,” Satomi explained, walking to the furthest wall and kicking over a heavy rug which revealed a trapdoor.

At Roman’s apprehension, Satomi said, “it’s not too long, I promise.” She pulled open the trapdoor and jumped down inside. “I’ve found a couple of tunnels underground. A couple of them lead to Betrug, across the woods. But this one. This one isn’t like the others.”

They began walking, using Satomi’s trusty penlight to light the way. Roman’s chest was buzzing with curiosity and he felt like he was about to see something momentous. This felt different from when he and Satomi were going to the library. He couldn’t explain it, but it did.

“So, I hear your two roommates have begun to date,” Satomi said with a small smile.

“I feel happy for them,” Roman said, nodding. “They really work together. Oskar knows what Maxime’s saying without him saying it. It’s like magic. I just hope if they ever get into arguments, they won’t keep me awake,” he added in with a laugh.

They began climbing a rope ladder.

“I put in a new ladder after I found this place, the old one practically disintegrated into my hands,” Satomi said, popping the penlight into her mouth.

This was the first secret tunnel Roman had been in that had a ladder. It wasn’t his favourite thing ever, he decided as he felt his hands burning.

“Here we are,” Satomi finally said, letting go of one hand on the rope ladder to push up the wooden door above her. It creaked violently before giving way, the cool, evening, air rushing down.

After Satomi helped Roman up, he finally got a good look at the place.

“It’s the tallest tower of the castle,” Satomi said quietly, the harsh wind whipping her hair around.

Roman walked over to the edge, leaning over the rail. It was smoothed down from years and years of hard weather.

Satomi pointed upwards and Roman couldn’t help but breath out in wonder. Stars. So many of them. They twinkled and shone, the lights from the town and the castle casting a soft glow around them. Where they were so high up, the night sky looked endless.

“It’s beautiful,” Roman muttered, bringing his sweater closer to him. “Freezing, but beautiful.”

The inexplicable buzzing in his chest quieted down until it disappeared completely. It felt like some kind of resolution inside of him. The end of a story. But that just meant a new one was just beginning. And Roman couldn’t wait.

#the mystery of sanders castle

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