#until it finally snaps. and results in some really good tennis | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cheswirls · 4 years ago

Text

[ pt 1/2 of the tensemi track au!! small note, when i started this (almost) a year ago i confused the one mile records with the 100 meter records, so this fic goes w/ the assumption the 100m record is 4 seconds. yes i know the 100m record is 10s. no i am not going to change it. just read it regarding this info, and it should be smooth. ]

year one |

the spring before eita’s freshman year, he has a growth spurt. it’s not anything big, only a handful of inches, but it’s enough to make a difference as he works around it in his training regimen. his legs get longer, his steps grow wider, and by the time track and field tryouts come around, he’s confident he’s adjusted enough to the change to make a difference.

“next, semi-san!”

a whistle blows as eita lines up and crouches on the third lane, eyes lifting to catch the 100 meter mark in his sight. he tenses his arms and lifts his figure, and on the next whistle he’s off.

eita likes running. he can’t remember a time in his life when he didn’t. but it’s the short bursts he likes best. he doesn’t have to worry about pacing himself. he doesn’t have the time to watch anyone around him. ten seconds and it’s over. ten seconds and he’s at the finish line, breaking a couple paces after, hands on his knees for a brief moment before he straightens up and turns.

everyone is silent around him. it wouldn’t bother eita so much, but they’re all watching him, and a feeling of unease creeps up his spine. it’s only elevated when they all start breaking out in chaotic whispers, and he turns his head to see the assistant coach blinking at his stopwatch.

“semi-san,” the head coach calls, and eita steps forward, shoes leaving the track for the grass on the inner field. the assistant coach finally moves his gaze away, looking incredulously to semi, but it sharply turns to pride and something else, like he just found an old treasure buried deep in a treasure chest.

“what was your average last year?” the head coach asks, and eita stumbles through his answer, mind still fixed on the expression of the assistant coach and the implications it suddenly held.

and that was how semi eita first learned he could run 100 meters in six seconds.

they have him come to day two of tryouts to run another. just to prove it wasn’t a fluke. eita knows it wasn’t, because he had run several that past night, just to prove to himself that it was all real. the same result happens. 6.4 seconds and his feet cross the line.

one of the football coaches that served as an assistant during off-season casually flips through a stapled bunch of papers, frowning slightly when he reached the end. “this is your only event?” he asks semi.

eita nods, and the assistant coach from the other day hums, taking the list to flip back a couple pages.

“why don’t you try for a 200 as well? i’m sure with-”

“i’m sorry, but i only run sprints.” both coaches look up in surprise, and eita bows sharply. then he turns and jogs off, done for the day.

when the list of names comes out the next day, he isn’t surprised to find he’s made it. he is surprised that there is only a single reporting time, and that they aren’t all separated by event immediately. he seeks out the head coach with a frown, bemused by the provided training. eita trains alone. it’s not that he minds the company, but he has his own routine. it worked through middle school, and it worked through the spring, and it would work now. besides, going through the same practice the long-distance runners did wouldn’t help him. it was just impractical. especially with his results.

the head coach takes his speech in stride, and then he tosses his head back and laughs. after calming down, he pats semi on the shoulder and shakes his head. “tell you what, kid. you place at nationals, and i’ll let you do whatever you want. but this year, i want you to try things our way. you came to shiratorizawa for a reason, right?” he winks.

the suggestion irks him, but he can’t deny the truth in the words. so, with a long-suffering sigh, eita bows his head and hurries off to join practice.

midway through pre-season is when eita has enough. usually, they’re divided by mid, long, and short distance, and given slightly different training exercises. today, though-

“everyone is running three miles.” one of the coaches points to the perimeter of the field, where a gate lines the outside. “there’s a road around the gate that circles the football fields and the tennis courts. twice around and back should be the distance you need. once you’re done, you’re free to go.”

everyone starts heading off, and eita snaps from his frozen position. “i can’t run three miles!” he bursts. a few people pause to look, some snickering, but he ignores them. a look from the coaches has him backing up, however, switching out his words. “i can walk three miles. can i -can i do that? that wouldn’t be that long. i could do it in, uh-” he breaks off, mumbling the math, the 20 on average so times three- “an hour. can i do that?”

one of the assistant answers him with another question. “can you run one mile?”

eita blinks. “yes,” he says, because he might be a sprinter, but one mile is nothing. the coach nods.

“okay. then walk two and run one. is that acceptable?”

eita purses his lips. “yes,” he mutters, and doesn’t stick around to see them change their minds.

shiratorizawa is an elite school. he knew this coming here, he knew the competition would be rough, he knew everyone around him was the best in their field. he thought he was good enough to be able to keep up.

but with a near four second improvement in his time, semi goes from good to untouchable.

there’s one other shiratorizawa athlete in his event, an upperclassman eita had never spoken with, but they’re in different heats and his concentration is pinpoint. it’s hot, but the breeze is there to cool him off, and eita sits down on the grass to do his stretches. if anyone approaches him, he doesn’t notice. there’s a group of girls a few paces away wearing the same purple uniform as him, but they don’t pay any attention to him, so he does the same.

he lines up when his rotation comes up and takes a deep breath as he crouches into position.

in, out. bang.

eita’s eyes lock on to the finish mark and he unconsciously speeds up, lungs burning, muscles twitching, giving his all for this short burst.

he doesn’t look behind him when he finishes, only up, but it’s not the same as middle school. the scoreboard still has results from two events ago. he sighs and walks off the track, hands on his head. he’d been used to having results immediately, but miyagi was a big region, and there were still three more heats to go before they compiled the results.

one of the assistant coaches comes up and hands him a water, congratulates him. eita nods in thanks, taking it, but he doesn’t feel excited. he may have won his heat, but he still didn’t know where he placed overall.

he kind of zones out, one minute gazing at the track as people line up for the 200 meter, and then the next he’s met with people carting out hurdles from the infield. he blinks and looks up to the scoreboard, and right on cue an announcer comes on to reveal the results for the mens 100 meter.

eita lets out a breath as he sees his name first. it’s not until he sees the point gap between him and second place does he realize how easy a time he had it. there’s nearly a five point lead. he’d completely crushed the competition.

later, as eita descends the podium with his medal, a handful of people in purple come up to congratulate him. eita doesn’t really recognize their faces, much less know their names, so he just does his best to smile and nod.

practice doesn’t change. and of course it wouldn’t. the coach’s offer was for semi to place at nationals, not a regional meet. the win didn’t count for anything but his pride. none of them did until the qualifier, it was all for the experience.

eita still practices alone, within the team. he’s divided up with the short distance runners and sent through the same paces, but he keeps to himself as he completes the drills. he doesn’t even know what the other runners think of him, and he really doesn’t care, either. he’s there to run.

end-of-term exams come around on the first week of july, and the track team is given a full ten days off in light of it.

at first, eita does as usual. grades have never been anything he’s really needed to concern himself with. he spends the extra time training, pushing himself in his newfound solitude.

but then all his tests are over, and school is preparing to shut down for summer break. before the week can let out, with five days to go until practice resumes as usual, eita runs, breathless, into the staff room, managing to corner one of the assistant coaches before he can leave.

“you want a key to the gym?” eita nods and he scratches his head, lightly frowning. “you know, the break is there for you to rest, and not just because of exams.”

“i get plenty of rest,” eita argues.

the coach sighs. “of course you do. look, we’re not supposed to let first-years wander off with keys, but . .” he shrugs, leaning forward in his chair to sort through a desk drawer. “you’re a good kid, semi-kun. if you think you need the equipment in the gym, i’ll let you borrow this.” he holds out a plain keyring and eita takes it with a nod. “give it back next time you see me, okay? and don’t forget when the next team practice is!”

eita is euphoric when given the opportunity. he’s halfway home when he notices the skip in his step, and then he realizes just how much energy he was pent up with, immediately setting off in a different direction. it takes half an hour before he’s sure he can return home without his mom yelling at him to quit bouncing off the walls, and by the time he’s on the porch steps he’s panting so bad he tries to use the gym key to unlock the front door.

his usual solo workout he’d adapted to before high school serves him well in the break, and adding on the private use of the gym makes it even better. the lights still turn on, thankfully, and the windows let in the sun just enough that even if they didn’t, it might not even matter. it’s not unusual to be here alone like he thought it might be -mostly it’s just quiet, which -even if he was reluctant to admit it- has grown quite odd. he’s accustomed to the low rumble that accompanied a large group -feet on the turf, murmurs, whistle blows, the shuffling of equipment.

on the morning of the eleventh day, eita wakes up early and jogs down to the school, keys jangling hidden in his pocket. he finds the particular coach he’d borrowed them from and manages to sneak them back without anyone else becoming wiser. if he was lucky, that would mean he’d have earned the trust to have them again.

the miyagi prefectural athletics meet in the middle of july doubled as the national qualifier for two weeks later, in august. even if the venue hadn’t been close by eita’s home, shiratorizawa still put the school’s budget to good use, transporting all the students in one go once they had gathered at the school.

eita’s internal musings he’d had since middle school of but i could have gotten there faster if i had walked from home take a hard backseat to the thrumming in his veins, the pure ecstasy he feels where he was headed and what he was headed there for.

the coaches camp out a big spot on the infield and shiratorizawa gathers into a cluster, throwing down personal bags and coolers and various other things until all around eita is a sea of royal purple.

there are three hours until his event, but he starts stretching right away, slipping off his warmup jacket and his trainers so he has enough traction to rest his feet on his shoulders. his eyes glance to the track periodically while he goes through the motions, watching as various smaller events take place.

noise to his left makes him glance up, sliding both legs to the turf. there’s a large crowd gathered around one of the field events -he can’t tell which one from his height. eita eyes the time and thinks, just for a moment, about going to investigate.

then he tunes that part of his brain out, resuming his stretches.

he goes for a run, careful to keep out of the way. he sprawls out on the infield, staring up at the sun as it tracks higher in the sky. it’s a nice day, overall. not too hot. a little cloudy, but not enough to threaten to rain.

his shoelaces get readjusted as someone comes to inform him of his heat. he has a number pinned to his back, the sun appears just a bit from behind thin clouds, and the roar of the crowd pulls him finally onto the track.

he’d missed competing in this spot. prefecturals were the same location no matter what school grade you were in. it felt like coming home.

he breathes out deep and crouches in his lane, looking down to adjust his footing before looking up to the finish line. it’s a singular focus, and slowly but surely, all the noise around him fades, until it’s only the internal sounds of adrenaline ringing in his ears.

bang. and he’s off.

his spikes dig in on the line before he fully realizes, having to force himself to stop several paces after, nearly tripping over himself. he looks back over his shoulder, breathing heavy, and throws his arms over his head.

there are still runners crossing the finish line. it’s a wild feeling, one eita’s never bothered to cash in on, and one that makes him absolutely dizzy with delight.

he crushes the time from his previous meet, and seeing the seconds lined up with the overall results has him feeling almost insane. there truly was no competition out here anymore. if he wanted a challenge, he’d have to go looking for it.

and that was exactly what he was going to do, he realizes, as he steps off the podium with a gold medal in hand and the proud gaze of the head coach on him.

nationals is in fukui, a six hour train ride away, on the second of august. on the first of the month, shiratorizawa loads onto a train in the morning. eita is not surprised to see many of his peers around him that would be competing in nationals -shiratorizawa was simply that kind of school.

eita has been on the shinkansen before, and knowing what kind of trip it would be, takes some of his summer homework to finish. since he also knows that they would be changing lines in tokyo for the one to kanazawa, he picks some of the less challenging, mind-numbing ones so that he’ll have enough awareness to switch trains.

eita sits in an aisle seat next to a boy he doesn’t know. it’s mostly uneventful, with him scribbling away at his papers and the boy leaning forward to talk to the students that sat in the row ahead. when eita feels like the noise around him is too much, he puts an earbud in and plays songs at random from his phone.

at kanazawa, they switch to a regular train for the last leg of the trip to fukui. it’s definitely hotter closer to the coast like this, and eita feels the lingering regret in his choice of clothing as his track jacket starts sticking to him. the train ride this time should be less than an hour, so everything is packed up in his backpack, and his overnight bag rests in his free hands as he waits for the train at the station.

“semi-san?” he hears as he climbs aboard, sighing in relief at the air conditioning. he looks over to find a girl with a high ponytail leaning out of her seat and into the aisle to address him. she smiles when he makes eye contact. “there’s a free seat here. come sit with us!”

and that’s how he finds himself nestled in with a few second-years. the seats face each other here, which means there was more leg room. everyone has their bags by their feet instead of the overhead slots, and eita follows suit, pushing his overnight bag under the window seat he’d been given and unzipping his other bag as he places it against the wall.

“-don’t understand why i had to give up my seat,” the boy to his left is complaining. it gives eita pause, as he’s reaching for his earbuds. the girl adjacent to him visibly rolls her eyes, rocking her feet forward to knock against the boy’s.

“semi’s a first year, silly. he’s probably never seen this before.”

“if it matters that much to you i’ll switch,” the boy across from eita says, and at that point he’s got one earbud in and his music switched on, so he no longer pays attention as they begin to switch around.

he does end up gazing out the window as they begin to move, and is surprised that he can see the coastline from here. a tap on his arm makes him glance to his left, where the girl has apparently switched seats to. she half-waves and points to her ear, and eita startles, moving to pause the music.

“you’re only wearing one,” she notes.

he shrugs. “i want to be able to hear if something happens.”

she lets out a little laugh at this, slouching in her seat. her legs are thrown over her bag, and she switches which is crossed over the other at the ankle. “don’t worry about that,” she tells him. “i’ll let you know.”

it’s an odd bout of kindness, and eita suddenly feels weird that he doesn’t know her name, or any of their names, really, even when they knew his. she moves into a conversation with the boys, leaving him to his own devices, and eita takes the chance to shrug off the awkwardness, pushing both earbuds in and closing his eyes.

maybe he falls asleep, he’s not sure, but a shaking on his arm gets him to open his eyes. it takes a moment for his vision to settle, and then his arm is shaken again, and he lolls his head to see the second-year girl nodding toward the aisle, where one of the assistant coaches stood.

eita takes the hint and pulls the earbuds out.

“-passing out your room assignments,” the coach is saying, handing stacks of envelopes to whoever was in reach. the boy adjacent to eita accepts the bundle, flipping through to grab the one with his name, and then handing the other three their own. eita takes his gingerly, frowning lightly at his name, and then tugs the flap open to find a list of names on a slip of paper next to a room number, and a key-card for the place they were staying.”

“oh, cool,” the one across from him, in the other window seat, was saying. eita glances up and then glances back up when he sees he’s being watched. “looks like we’re sharing.”

eita looks back down to the names, pursing his lips. maybe he lucked out, then, that out of the three he didn’t recognize, one of them he’d already met.

“that’s convenient,” the girl says. “who else is there?”

instead of listening to him list off the names, she leans into eita’s space and reads for herself. eita takes this in stride, turning the paper to face her, and her eyes light up when she recognizes the connection.

“oh, it’s all the short-distance. i guess there are only five of you. take care of semi-san, okay? he’s the only kouhai you’ve got on this trip.”

eita blinks, caught up on the last part. he misses his roommate’s confirmation as he puzzles this out, and ends up speaking before he realizes. “i’m the only first year?”

they all look at him, and then one by one, start bursting into laughter.

“man, you’re really out of your element here, huh?” the other boy, the not-roommate, says. eita’s lips purse as he tries to think of a comeback. he holds out his hands. “i didn’t mean anything bad. just, well-”

“you’re not very social, is what he’s saying,” the girl says. “there’s a girl on the relay team that’s a first-year, but you’re the only one with an individual event.”

oh. there had been so many that morning that he had just assumed almost everyone had placed for nationals. knowing most of them were second and third-years was . . well, it certainly helped his ego. not that he was letting that go to his head or anything.

before he can ask more, the train arrives, and he’s quickly grabbing his things before being pushed off and led away by one of the boys he’d be staying with.

fukui is nice. hot. humid. it’s a dizzying combination that has him staying in the hotel lobby instead of venturing out to see the sights, declining every invitation he’s offered. he finishes the portion of homework he’d been working through on the shinkansen, then puts the rest away for the trip back home. his mom calls after he’s procured a bottle of water, and he visits with her for a minute, lounging on one of the seats in the air-conditioned space.

after showering away a morning’s worth of travel, eita lies down in the unit on one of the beds. he’s the only one in the room, and after his lightheadedness doesn’t quite clear up upon consuming an energy bar, he doesn’t wait for any of the upperclassmen to return to tell him to take the pull-out bed, falling asleep on top of the duvet.

he ends up skipping dinner. when he wakes it’s late, around eleven, and the only light in the room comes from a small lamp near the wall on the other side of the bed. eita glances over to see the boy from the train leaning back against the pillows, scrolling on his phone. he looks up when eita turns and nods to the bedside table on eita’s side, where a peeled orange and a handful of crackers sat.

“for me?” eita murmurs, noticing the room’s other occupants are asleep.

“mhmm. you should try and sleep more, but eat that first. you’ll need something in you before tomorrow.”

“thanks,” he mumbles, reaching over to pull the meal into his lap. he doesn’t necessarily feel bad anymore, but something is still off, which is concerning. maybe it was the change in weather.

the salt from the crackers helps. the orange is good too. eita can’t believe it’s peeled. he sure lucked out with the upperclassmen he was assigned.

“i’m going to bed,” the boy says, after eita has finished and tossed the napkin away. he reaches over to turn off the light, and waves his lit phone for eita to see. “i set an alarm for the morning, so don’t be scared when it goes off.”

“oh, okay,” eita whispers, climbing under the covers. “thank you.”

“nah, don’t sweat it. that’s what i’m here for -to make your life easier.”

“not to win tomorrow?”

“well, that too. night, semi.”

“night.”

the next morning eita’s head is swimming, and nothing helps. his pained frown persists through a hot shower, a light breakfast, two medication pills, and the bus ride over to the stadium. he tries to ward off his concerned roommate that he really should be remembering the name of, but all that really gets him is more persistent near-coddling, until eita finally has enough and goes to sprawl in the grass near a corner of the track.

the sky is cloudless and the sun bright, this time. the heat is not helping in the slightest. eita rests a condensating water bottle against his forehead and extends his arms into the air, trying to convince himself to sit up and stretch.

maybe it was nerves. though, he’s never experienced anything like that before. maybe not never, maybe when he was younger, but it’s been a long time, and it wasn’t really something he’d think to concern himself over anymore, so this had to be the cause of something else.

he hopes he’s not sick. that would suck.

he goes through warmup and forgets everything as soon as he’s done it, leaving his body thrumming and his mind blank. he’s not the only one who’s noticed, either, as one of the coaches comes over to have a look at him, coercing him back into the fold and closer to where the rest of shiratorizawa is gathered.

“you still don’t look great,” he says, and eita snorts.

“i’ll be okay,” he mutters.

“still wanna run?” he asks, and eita nods. “alright, that’s your choice. just take it easy until then. keep yourself hydrated. you eat enough this morning?” another nod. “good. come grab someone if you get worse.”

it’s less than ten seconds. he’s only in one event. and it’s nationals, for crying out loud. even if he was dying eita still wouldn’t give up his chance to run.

but when he finally steps into his lane, he feels like his insides have been replaced with cotton. he squeezes his eyes shut and his vision clears, but he still feels slow, heavy. uncoordinated.

at least he knows he can stay in-between his own set of lines. he has enough awareness to position himself with the others, and to hear the signal to start.

that’s about the only thing he remembers. one of the coaches hands him a water when he comes off the track, tells him to eat something. he sits in the grass and drains half the bottle, then nearly passes out.

eventually he does end up falling asleep. he doesn’t feel any better when he’s woken up, but he’s regained enough awareness to put that as secondary, and his results as priority.

when he sees them his heart falls.

at eita’s first athletics nationals for the 100m sprint he clocks in at 8.6 seconds. the time is still leagues above his peers, and the only ones ahead of him are third-years.

he places fourth.

even with a remarkable time in his less-than-perfect condition, it’s still not enough for a medal.

the head coach finds him on the field as the sun is setting, and everything is beginning to wrap up. he sits easy beside eita, who rests with his head on his knees. “you still feel sick?”

“sorta?” eita mumbles. he’d eaten lunch, and drank a lot of water and pocari, and camped out in the shade near the bleachers. he’d thought, briefly, about watching other events -at the very least the event of the senpai who’d watched out for him- but he just hadn’t felt well enough to try.

“you timed in at under nine seconds feeling like shit,” coach says bluntly, and eita blinks, moving his head to face him properly. he shrugs. “c’mon, semi, you’re sixteen. i know you’ve heard worse.”

he wasn’t wrong, but it still was a little unexpected.

“you’re the only sixteen-year-old to place in the top twenty. wanna know how i know? because there’s only fifteen slots for 100 meter at nationals, and there’s not another first year around who’s come even close to touching those times. i’ve had enough people on my ass this afternoon telling me that to start to believe it.”

“people have been talking about me?” eita mutters in quiet disbelief.

“yeah, kid, had to beat ‘em off with a stick. wasn’t gonna let anyone interview you while you still looked like you would keel over at any moment. i saved you the trouble, let me tell you.”

he leans back further, gaze rising to the sky, as eita blinks and tries to come to terms with this.

“you didn’t do as well as you wanted, but you still did pretty damn amazing. fourth in the country out of people between sixteen and eighteen is nothing to scoff at. you’ve given me a lot to consider.”

eita looks up. “like what?”

coach shrugs, climbing to his feet and holding out a hand for eita. “i’ll decide on the train. you’ll hear about it by the time the new term starts.” he grins, pulls eita close to pat him on the back. “good work today. can’t wait to see what you’ll do when you’re in good condition.”

as promised, eita is greeted with news coming into the second term. big news.

even though he didn’t place at nationals, the head coach allows him a training exemption -two days a week with the team, and that was it. that was all he was obligated for, anyway. if he wanted to show up every day, they’d be happy to have him. if he wanted to focus on his own regimen, well, the staff knew how serious he was, and were happy to oblige him to a certain extent.

semi forks over his adjusted training regimen and has it added on to by one of the assistant coaches, and then sent loose. he pushes himself, balancing mediocre classwork with punishing workouts, and begins to spend less and less time with the team as a whole.

winter break comes and he again borrows one of the gym keys -this time asking the head coach directly. the granted request marks a sudden shift in eita’s mindset. they’re watching me, he realizes. it’s euphoric. he’s a first-year at a powerhouse school like shiratorizawa, and yet he’s being given this special attention.

by the time third term rolls around, it’s too cold to bother with anything but indoor workouts. eita is a regular occurrence in the staff room to borrow and return the gym key. he takes care of his health when he goes running outside. and he pushes himself, faster and harder and further and higher, to the point it becomes noticeable by his peers when he shows up for team practice that he was aiming for another level.

year 2 |

eita gets asked at the opening ceremony to show up to the first day of tryouts, so during the second week of the new term, he forgoes his study period to head out early to the field. none of the first-years are there yet, since school isn’t technically out, but a handful of second and third-years are, gathered close with the coaching staff.

there’s no skirting around them, especially since he didn’t know the reason his presence was required. one of the assistant coaches gets his attention and beckons him closer.

“i’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here,” he says, and eita nods. he grins, holding up a stopwatch next. “it’s about time to reevaluate your record, right?”

oh. oh. suddenly he feels a million times more excited.

“there’s a little more to it than that,” he continues, but eita could care less at this point. “not that you stuck around long enough to see it, but those of you here are our little exhibition gang for the next few days. something for the new kids to be excited about. it’s one thing to know shiratorizawa’s accolades by name, but it’s another thing entirely to see the competition yourself. so we’re re-assessing a handful of you now rather than at official practice, and in return, the first-years get to see what the track and field team is made of.”

“fine by me,” eita answers, nearly unable to keep still. he was used to being watched at this point. and this was beneficial for him, too, so who cared, really?

the coach rolls his eyes. “somehow i knew you’d be less-than-interested in that last part. but that’s okay. the group for day one is everyone you see here, and there will be separate groups for the other two days, so after we’re done with you today we’ll just see you again when practice starts.”

eita was ushered off to join the other students until tryouts began, with instructions to come find that particular short-distance coach so they could time him and cut him loose. he’s greeted after a minute by the relay girl he’d met at nationals, and they engage in idle conversation about the new school year until a plethora of students start to trickle in through the gates.

“i know it’s intended to be the other way around, but this is a good chance to observe them, too,” she ends up saying, and eita, confused, turns back to her. she rolls her eyes. “you never know who’ll end up being your competition. i remember last year, everyone was kinda shocked when a first-year timed in at under ten seconds on a sprint.”

it takes him a moment -too long, really- to catch on, but when he does, he sits up straight in a hurry, pointing to himself. she throws her head back and laughs, her long ponytail trailing on the track.

“you do what you want,” she tells him. “but keep in mind: it’s not a bad idea to watch at how they do.”

one of the older girls calls to her, and she jumps up to go get her hair braided before tryouts really began. eita sits, partially shocked, and thinks that this year, it would maybe be a good idea to not be so self-absorbed.

he thinks that, but in actuality, he doesn’t engage with the first-years at all. he stays around the short-distance group his assigned coach was watching over, and while he’s close enough to watch, he’s also far enough for them to not try and engage him. it probably helps that he’s in his track jacket, so they know he’s an upperclassman and not another first-year for them to try and make friends with.

the coach signals for him after he’s warmed up, and eita moves to the track where a third-year short-distance runner was waiting. his arms go over his head in a stretch as the third-year takes a seat near him on the infield, glancing to the coach waiting at the finish mark.

“okay,” eita puffs out, crouching down. “ready.”

the third-year moves to face their coach entirely, cupping his hands over his mouth to be heard over the bustle that was tryouts. eita’s fingertips tense on the track.

“go!” he shouts, more for the coach’s benefit than eita’s own, and eita rockets off. any lingering thoughts he’d had before that moment evaporate. he has a sole focus, leaving no room for anything, not even the pounding of his heart in his chest.

he breaks around three feet after the line, puffing out breaths and feeling the heat of the sun stark on his skin after the exertion. after giving himself a moment he turns to see the coach jotting something down on a clipboard. he glances up and nods at eita, and eita comes closer, meeting up with the third-year that hangs half a step back.

“6.1,” he’s told, and eita’s eyes widen. even if it’s within expectations, the notion that he’d improved is sending him. his mind keeps flashing back to the scoreboard at fukui, to the leading two times. if he could outrun those now, and he would only keep getting better, then. then-

“you’ve shaved off .3 seconds from this time last year. very nice.” the coach nods behind eita, and eita cocks his head slightly and then turns it fully over his shoulder when he finds the head coach standing close by, hands on his hips.

“nice going, kid,” he says, and eita nods. a clap on his shoulder has him looking forward again. the third-year is grinning, lips pulled wide enough to show teeth.

“that’s amazing, semi-kun! i’ve never met anyone with that kinda time before.”

“thanks,” he mutters, suddenly numbed by all the praise. shit, he could be able to thank this guy by name. he didn’t even know what event he ran. was it the 300m? the 150?

the hand moves from his shoulder to his hair, ruffling the two-toned strands, but eita is unbothered, letting it happen. “we’re done, right?” he asks the short-distance coach.

“you two can go,” he assures them. “but take semi by the mids before that. i want him to see kawanishi, and they should be about to start.”

“got it!”

eita lets himself be dragged away, towards another end of the field. “who’s kawanishi?” he mumbles.

“a first-year high jumper. well, that’s what he’s known for, but field events are tomorrow, and they wanted him to try an 800 meter today.”

“hm.”

they take a seat near the mids group, more aligned with the edge of the track. it’s easy enough to spot kawanishi before he’s pointed out to eita -he’s the tallest one there. definitely looked like a high jumper. did he even have the stamina for two laps? long legs weren’t everything.

but thoughts like those quickly dissipate when the first six are lined up and take off. he tunes out his upperclassman to watch, overanalyzing as the mid-distance runners ran around the track. kawanishi wasn’t bad, actually. he needed to pace himself better, but if they thought he was a good fit, the coaches would teach him how.

his form is good. eita hasn’t seen textbook form like that in a long time. he wonders, briefly, if that was kawanishi’s style, or if he didn’t know any other way just yet.

regardless, he clocks in first out of his group. when he crosses the line eita finds that he’s been leaning forward, and sits back in a hurry. his companion muffles a laugh and eita huffs, standing. “that was it, right?”

“almost,” the third-year says, cheerful, and jumps to his feet as well. “swing by the clubroom with me. i’m supposed to give you taiju’s things.” eita must look confused again, because he’s grabbed by the elbow and hauled off. “geez, you’ve never been to the clubroom, huh? i know you don’t show up to practice that much, but c’mon, semi-kun, that’s like, a sacred space! especially now that you’re a second-year, you should practically be living there!”

“i remember a taiju, i think,” eita mutters.

“he was the third-year 100 meter runner the year before. club vice captain? clocked in at ninth in nationals? any of this ringing a bell?”

“uh, sorry,” eita ends up saying, throwing his head back.

“dude, don’t beat yourself up about it.” they stop and eita looks back down to see the other jangling a key into a scuffed door. “he’s only the guy you outran while you were on the verge of heat exhaustion.” he snickers. “plus, he’s gone now, so there’s no one around to offend, right? let me look -ah, here it is.” he pulls out a stack from a cubby and gestures eita closer. “coach wanted you to have his keys, said something about you not bothering him anymore for ‘em.”

“oh.” eita takes them numbly. “thanks.”

the other shrugs. “eh, he said it fondly, so i don’t think he was too pinched up about it. take care of those, alright? here, he left these too.”

eita is handed a thin plastic bag, and his grip goes tighter on it when he realizes what they were. “really?”

“yeah, he wasn’t gonna run in college, so he left his spare spikes here. they’re pretty cool, i think he got them from overseas. well, it’s your choice if you wanna use them, alright? don’t feel like you have to or anything.”

“i don’t really use spikes,” eita admits. “i mean, i haven’t really tried.”

“first time for everything, right?” when eita looks up the third-year is smiling. “if you do decide to try ‘em out, you’ll have top-dollar ones to experiment with.”

this year really was . . starting to look different. and season hadn’t even started yet.

the second week of practice, and the third time semi shows up in the new term, the track team is graced by a visitor.

eita is collapsed on the slanted part of the hill leading away from the track after an exercise, breathing deep and clenching a water bottle tight in his hands. he raises it up for a drink when a loud ‘HEY!’ gets his attention, and ends up squirting water in his face, gasping at the cold sensation. one of the other runners near him breaks out into laughter. he’s not the only one, and eita sits up to look over his shoulder, catching the offender as he meanders down the hill.

he’s tall, even doubled-over, having caught sight of eita’s accident and burst into this howling laughter that immediately gains the attention of everyone around who had overlooked him. eita purses his lips, setting the bottle in the grass between his legs.

“s-sorry, i didn’t meant to scare ya like that!” he assures eita, but his expression suggests he didn’t quite mean it.

“what are you doing here, tendou?” someone asks, and now eita has a name to put with the face.

“just checking in,” he says, waving the other off. he’s still in his school uniform, eita notes, even after school had been out for a- wait, checking in for what!?

“student council need something?” someone else asks. “what did we do for the vice president himself to come all the way out here?”

tendou flaps his hand harder, if possible. “nothing! i’m serious. i’m supposed to go check in with the clubs throughout the week, see that everything is running smoothly. it’s just a courtesy visit.”

“where’s ushijima, then? the president too good for courtesy visits?”

“waka’s at practice,” tendou states, a little too blunt. he stops short, hands in his pockets now, and a little too close for eita’s liking. “he’s done his share, so i told him to skip out today. i’ll bring him next time.” he perks up. “oh! yama’s here! later!”

he runs off, shouting loudly for one of the mid-distance runners, and eita collapses in the grass again, breathing out slow now that the wake of the hurricane has passed.

it’s the same day the following week that the student council shows up at the track field. eita spots the shock of red hair from across the field and inwardly grimaces. as expected, over time the volume rises, and by the time eita’s group is given a moment to cool down, two sets of footsteps are fast approaching.

“oh, perfect, you’re done,” tendou addresses the group as a whole, and eita closes his eyes as he flops to the ground, no longer willing to squint up at the bright sun.

“for now,” someone says.

“hey, you brought the president this time!” someone else says, and eita risks the sun to open his eyes.

before he can make out the other properly, coach is urging them all to get up. three laps around the track, and then they were good to go. eita is relieved, honestly. it had been a long enough practice already, and he didn’t really wanna be stuck around the two outsiders for longer than necessary.

his luck doesn’t last, though, as his name is called halfway through his second lap. eita slows to a jog, then stops entirely when he sees just who was vying for his attention, trying his best not to gawk.

the man was a hulk, for lack of a better word. if he hadn’t been in a student uniform, eita would’ve thought him a teacher. he blinks, pointing to himself, and the guy nods, moving down the hill a little to get closer. eita purses his lips, looks to the side at the others running, then sighs and moves to the outside lane.

“who’s this guy, waka?” tendou asks, and damn if he didn’t come out of nowhere, making eita jump, unable to contain himself as he’s startled. tendou blinks in surprise, then his face lights up, placing eita from the week before.

“semi eita,” waka says. “we’re in the same class.”

“we-” eita cuts himself off before he can finish embarrassing himself. if this guy says they were, eita would believe him. the student council president definitely had more social awareness than the likes of him.

he seems to catch on anyways, frowning slightly and offering his hand. eita takes it after hesitating long enough for it to matter. “ushijima wakatoshi,” he tells eita, and eita nods, reminding himself to commit the name to memory.

“hah? you mean you have waka in class and don’t even remember?” tendou starts laughing. “how do you miss a presence like that?”

eita turns his head to the side, fighting back a blush. ushijima must take pity on him, because he gestures to another group of people further down the way. “satori, there’s still more people, right?”

“yeah, yeah, go on ahead,” tendou says, waving him off. ushijima shrugs.

“good to see you, semi-kun.”

“uh, sure,” eita mumbles.

he turns to get back into a center lane, but tendou stops him. “hey, wait! i wanted to ask you something.”

eita’s careful as he bites down on his lip. “what is it?”

“your hair is neat!” tendou’s smile shows all his teeth, this time. “did you do it yourself?”

“oh.” eita reaches up subconsciously, fingering the darker tips. “yeah, last summer.” he probably needed to do it again, since he’d gotten his hair cut since then. though he’d really just been planning on growing it out, so that he wouldn’t have to mess with it for a while.

before tendou can say anything else, eita points to the track. “i’m. um. gonna go.”

“yeah yeah yeah.” tendou flaps his hand again and eita fights back a grimace. must be a habit or something. “thanks for letting me steal your time. i’ll let you get back to it.”

eita picks a different day of the week to show up for practice. the reason he gives isn’t anything special, but he was unwilling to admit the true reason was so that he could avoid the student council.

unfortunately it doesn’t matter.

he has his shoes off so he can balance his heel on his shoulder better, camped out on the grass a little further apart from the others moving about the field. once he feels like he can do it, he leans back and uses his hand to push his leg up by the ankle, until it’s extended all the way in the air. he sets his other hand back in the grass and breathes out, mentally counting down to when he could release.

“damn, you’re pretty flexible, huh?”

eita’s arm falters and his leg curls a little. he leans back to see around it, and his face goes carefully blank when he sees tendou satori standing there. he lets his leg drop fully, foot loud on the grass.

“what?”

“bet that’s good for all sorts of things,” tendou says, and eita frowns. he really needed to stretch his other leg, but like hell was he going to put himself on display for tendou to see, not after that comment. he moves his arm across his chest instead, looking straight ahead across the field.

“don’t you have other people to bother?” he says after he’s done with both arms, then promptly snaps his jaw shut, a little mortified. he hadn’t meant to say that. out loud.

tendou takes it in stride, laughing as he settles on the grass. “i’m just checking up,” he assures eita. “don’t have to go talk to everyone. i’m too busy today anyways.”

“then why me?” eita mutters, and if his ears are red then he can’t help it.

“you’re interesting.” eita frowns, glancing over at him. “no, really. i’m not being mean or anything. you just seem like a cool guy, semi-kun.”

“i’m pretty average,” he mumbles.

“yama says you’re good at your event.”

eita raises a brow and tendou rolls his eyes. “seriously? do you know anyone in your grade? yamagata hayato! he’s a mid-distance runner?”

“um.” eita turns away again. “uh.”

“semi! you ready or what?” someone shouts from across the field. eita takes the chance and climbs to his feet.

“gotta go,” he mutters. then he leaves tendou to sit there.

“waka!” a voice drawls out, and eita, who had bent down to retrieve a fallen object, jumps, ramming his head on the underside of his desk. he breathes out in pain, moving back to his knees, and his hand comes up to feel around his head.

“oh? semisemi, is that you?”

“what?” eita opens his eyes to squint, glancing to the open classroom door. tendou stood in front of it, one hand still on the handle.

“what are you doing on the ground, semisemi?” tendou moves fully into the near-empty room, hands in his pockets. eita drops his hand from his hair and slowly moves to his feet.

“that’s not my name,” he mutters, placing his pen back on his desk.

“oh, come now.” tendou waves his hand. “haven’t you ever heard of nicknames?”

“don’t people get those from their friends?”

tendou stumbles back for dramatics, holding a hand over his heart. “semisemi! you wound me. and here i thought we had something special.”

eita rolls his eyes and resumes packing up his bag.

“hey, have you seen waka around?”

“ushijima-san already left. no, i don’t know where.”

“oh. hum. too bad.” tendou’s eyes are still on him, curious, and he leans back against an empty desk. “you’re not in a rush to leave. no practice today?”

“not today,” eita answers, zipping his bag shut. it was actually one of his days off, since he’d been coerced into taking a day of rest during the week, so there wasn’t any self-practice, either. hm. actually, now that he thought about it, maybe he shouldn’t have said-

“then come do something with me!” tendou proclaims, and eita falters, missing he bag’s straps and dropping it down onto the chair instead. he forgets it momentarily to stare up at tendou, who doesn’t give him a moment to refuse or reconsider. “i have to gain that friendship status if i want nickname rights, right? don’t suddenly tell me you have stuff to do, either! even if you do, well, i’ll just come with you! moral support! the works!”

he truthfully only caught about half of that, and that was enough for a headache to develop. eita frowns and picks up his bag proper. “i don’t have anything to do,” he mumbles. “but-”

“so it’s settled!”

“don’t you have student council things to take care of?”

“already done!” tendou kicks off the ground to sit fully on the desk, swinging his legs in the air. “i was gonna grab waka, but this works better! c’mon, semisemi, we’ll do anything you want. it’s your off day, so you can treat yourself, right? let’s go get ice cream! i’ll buy you some taiyaki! can’t go wrong with kakigori!”

“why are they all food related?” eita mutters, then shakes his head. “fine, okay. we can go.”

“yes!” tendou jumps from the desk and raises his arms high. the next moment he’s dragging eita from the classroom and down the hall. “oh this is gonna be so much fun. there’s a combini not far from here me and waka hit up sometimes, they have the cutest cashier, you’ll love it, i swear.”

eita pulls his phone out on the outskirts of school grounds, sending a quick message to his mom that he’d be home later than usual. tendou catches on and stops talking, trailing back from where he’s ahead of eita to look down at the phone.

“who’s that?”

“my mom?” eita snaps the phone shut and stuffs it in a pocket. “i’m usually home by now on fridays, so.”

“you don’t live in the dorms?” eita shakes his head and tendou hums, leaning his head back with one hand under his chin. “come to think of it, i’ve never seen you around. still, i didn’t think we had any commuters at shiratorizawa.”

“home isn’t far,” eita mutters. “school is already expensive as is.”

“you don’t have a sports scholarship?”

“it doesn’t cover it all,” eita admits. “really, it’s not that big a deal. can we talk about something else?”

tendou loops his arm through eita’s own. “sure thing, semisemi!” he gets dragged up a set of steps, then automatic doors open for a rush of cold air to greet them. “here’s the place i was talking about. taka-chan! hi!”

eita looks over to see the girl behind the register wave at them, a slightly exasperated smile on her face. he’s tugged over to the freezer before he can contemplate that.

they sit against the railings outside the store while they eat so they can catch the shade. it’s not bad. tendou had paid for his melon ice, and it was amazing to watch him tackle his own double popsicle, insisting he could finish both.

eita ends up finishing first, and in the end they start moving before tendou has a chance to toss his second popsicle stick. they trail up the road and tendou starts whining when he’s halfway done, complaining of a stomachache.

“gari-gari-kun would be disappointed,” eita drones, as he watches melted blue spill onto the sidewalk. tendou whines louder and eita hides a snort with both hands, turning his head away.

“so mean to me, semisemi. won’t even help me finish.”

“you took on that challenge all on your own. leave me out of it.”

“mmmm, i guess.” tendou sighs and drops the hand with the now-empty stick to his side. his fingers are all sticky. “hey, where are we going?”

eita perks up. “you have to go back, right? i was-”

“yeah,” tendou drawls, cutting eita off. “but not now. being there is so stifling sometimes. plus, i’ll have to work when i get back!”

eita raises a brow. “i thought you said you already finished?” tendou turns away and his lips curl up. “or is this you running away?”

“it’s n-” tendou cuts himself off, face suddenly as red as his hair. “not,” he mutters, quieter. “maybe,” he finishes.

“the vice president, skipping out on his duties.” eita shakes his head. “what will people think?”

“nothing if you don’t tell them,” tendou bites, moving closer and raising his sticky hands. “got it, semisemi?”

eita moves back, shuddering. “don’t you dare.”

“i bought you ice cream.”

“i took you off campus.”

“i made your day more exciting!” tendou winks and eita rolls his eyes.

“i’m indulging you.”

“yeah, you are.” tendou steps back. “let me walk you home.”

“huh?”

“you have to go back, right?” he says, echoing eita’s earlier words. “i’ll take you there. don’t worry, i’m good with directions, and i have waka on speed-dial if i get lost.”

eita blinks. “if you’re trying to be convincing you’re doing a terrible job. what’s in it for me?”

“getting to bring a friend home to your mom?”

eita crosses his arms over his chest. tendou tries again.

“helping a friend shirk his responsibilities for a little longer?”

“mhmm.”

“semisemi, please! i’m begging you!” he falls to the ground. “i’m on my knees!”

eita, unable to contain his act any longer, bursts into laughter. tendou’s expression breaks as he realizes he’s being messed with, and he reaches forward with his hands again. eita jumps back, laughing harder, a little more panicked now. tendou stumbles to his feet and eita runs off, not surprised that the other follows.

“i have long legs, semisemi!” tendou calls.

“if you think that means you can outrun me, that’s a bad call,” eita answers, speeding up around a corner. he spins on his heel to break and presses himself to the concrete wall, watching with baited breath as tendou appears and moves right past him, then pauses several paces away, confused.

“this is my street,” eita admits, and tendou whips around. eita points ahead. “we just go all the way down, then take a left. easy, right?”

“oh.” tendou stops, panting from the exertion. “easy,” he echoes. “sure.” he swallows, regaining some of his composure. “you can run really fast.”

eita raises a brow and tendou waves him off. “i know, i know. let’s just go already.”

there’s a practice meet with two other schools a week before midterms. perhaps because of this, shiratorizawa hosts, enabling their live-in student population the option of not having to travel while they were busy trying to cram for tests.

for eita, it didn’t really matter that much. he had always tested well. as long as he had the practical portions down, any sort of written exam wasn’t something he bothered himself with stressing over.

the rest of the team was another story. he discovers this when he walks into the clubroom on the day of the meet.

papers are strewn absolutely everywhere, enough so that he has a hard time walking around them all. about seven people are gathered around the low table in the corner, and the rest are laid out across the floor, each inhabiting their own space with textbooks, highlighters, notecards -the works. eita feels like he’s entered through a portal into another world. his presence doesn’t get much attention. those that do notice only offer a simple greeting before resuming their studying.

eita does his best to maneuver around it all and plant himself in front of his cubby, pushing his bag into the space and unbuttoning his summer uniform. he pulls on a loose shirt and ties his jacket to his waist, and only then does he bother addressing the room as a whole.

“y’know, there’s only an hour until we start,” he says, raising his voice just a little. it takes a moment for everyone to process, and then one more for the tumultuous effect to appear, people scrambling to their feet, the sound of books shutting audible as they raced to get out of their uniforms.

eita opts to leave the chaos behind, trailing from the room with his shoes in hand.

there’s already people at the field, but they all leave eita alone. he walks along the concrete until another path becomes unavoidable, then sits out of the way to put his shoes on, observing the surroundings as he does so.

the ones in green he thinks are datekogyo. he doesn’t know about the others -he hadn’t really asked, either. eita rolls onto the grass proper and moves himself into a more isolated corner of the hill, spreading his legs out in front of him.

“semi-san?”

“mm?” he pulls his head back to see a ginger in purple standing behind him. something about him is strangely familiar.

“mii-san is looking for you. said something about causing an uproar earlier.”

it takes a moment to click, and when it does eita resumes stretching with a snort. “their own fault,” he mutters. “where is she?”

“helping another school get settled.”

“that’s the captain for ya.” eita throws his arms over his head and locks his hands in a stretch. “okay, thanks for telling me. i’ll go see her in a minute.”

“taichi!” someone calls, and the shadow over eita disappears. he locks his knees and splays out sideways on the ground, twisting to stretch his midsection and hips at the same time.

mii’s long hair is already braided when he reaches her. she’s still in conversation, but pins him with a look that has him stiffen where he stands, waiting until she’s done. when she breaks away, it’s to a stab a finger to his chest that has eita reflexively moving back.

“i know you were trying to help, but have some tact next time, please.” she rolls her eyes as eita opens his mouth to protest. “some of them practically live in the clubroom right now. they’re stressed enough as is with midterms coming up. don’t make it worse.”

“got it,” he mutters.

“tai-kun grabbed you, right?”

eita raises his head, blinks. “the . . ginger?”

“oh.” mii covers a laugh with her hand and eita frowns. “i thought you had gotten better with names. kawanishi taichi. the first year in high jump? you saw him at tryouts, right?”

“isn’t he a mid?” eita remembers the face, now that he thinks about it. “his form was all stiff, though.”

“that’s what he’s trying today. i think they wanted him on a 300 too, but his field event happens at the same time, so it’s a no-go.” she shrugs, and a call of her name captures her attention. “anyway, i just wanted you to see him again. play nice with the first years today!”

short-distance events are the last of the running events this time -if you didn’t count relays, that is- so that gives eita plenty of time to warmup and then sit back and do whatever. it’s during some of this downtime that a loud call of his full name has him turning to attention, spying a burly man in dark green approaching.

eita points to himself in question and the man’s face lights up. “i thought so!” he calls, louder even as he’s far closer than last time. “it’s been- oh, right! introductions.” he holds out a hand. “i’m kamasaki yasushi! we ran against each other in-”

“middle school,” eita finishes, finally placing the face. “you’ve gotten taller. uh. a lot taller.”

kamasaki throws his head back and laughs, loud enough to attract unwanted attention. if eita hadn’t already been subjected to the whirlwind known as tendou satori, he might’ve been intimidated.

“word is you’ve gotten faster! can’t wait to see it in person.” he holds out a fist. “may the best man win.”

eita bumps it with his own, accepting the challenge. “sure thing.”

he ends up corralled into watching the mid-distance events, having nothing better to do at that point. one in particular catches his attention, and he squints down at the track as he spies familiar ginger hair.

“oh, taichi-kun?” reo, one of the particular people that had roped him into this activity, and the secondary vice captain of the team, reclines back in his seat in the stands. he moves his hands from behind his head to below his chin as he muses. “hmm. i think it’s just the 800 meter today. he should do pretty well. he’s loosened up since pre-season, at least. but if you want my opinion, haya-chan is beating out everyone today.”

eita must look as outwardly confused as he feels inside, because reo rocks forward to point over the railing, at another shiratorizawa athlete pacing near the starting line. “yamagata hayato. he’s a second-year like you.”

“i’ve heard of him,” eita mutters.

reo smirks, leaning back again. “well, guess that’s the bare minimum. his older brother, hayashi, has the school record for the 600 meter. he was outgoing when i was a first-year, got injured or something, so that’s about all i know. haya-chan’s real serious about running. he’s kinda like you, in that respect. though, he definitely has more social awareness.”

eita hunches further into his seat. “you don’t have to rub it in.”

reo laughs, reaching over to slap eita’s back. “i’m just messing with you! cheer up, kid.”

“hm.”

he can’t lie that he’s intrigued by yamagata, knowing he was the one tendou was always running to when he showed for practice. but as the first heat lines up, his attention diverts to kawanishi.

eita doesn’t really . . mid-distance events were fine, but it still took a minute for the results. it wasn’t like watching short-distance, way less engaging, but it was at least more entertaining than watching the mile-runners.

eita’s interest dips after the first several seconds, and he feels his eyes wander over the gathered crowd in the stands. he’s not sure who he’s looking for, among all the students that had come out perhaps for a break from studying, but he doesn’t find them before there’s a swell in noise that has him facing the track again, watching several runners enter the last lap.

kawanishi taichi’s form really has loosened, but he’s not sure that’s a good thing. he seems more lanky in his movements now, and while his long legs made up for it, the dip in speed was still noticeable.

he ends up crossing the finish line in third. it’s close, but there’s still another heat, so eita has doubts about him placing.

“not bad,” reo mumbles, leaned on the railing. he crosses his arms over each other and looks over at eita. “for someone new at it.”

“good point,” eita answers. he watches as yamagata moves to clap his junior on the back, taking his place in the same lane. eita can’t tell -he thinks kawanishi looks off-put. whether it’s from the results or yamagata’s reassurance is up in the air.

“i think haya-chan is really gunning for ishikawa this year,” reo notes.

eita blinks. “ishi- what’s there?”

“nationals.”

eita frowns. “there hasn’t been a confirmed location yet.”

reo rolls his eyes. “my god, you and mii are both the same. it’s between ishikawa and ibaraki. and ishikawa is further to travel to, so why not get my hopes up for it?”

“but we went to the west coast last year.”

“ishikawa is twice as long a trip as ibaraki,” reo argues, holding up two fingers and moving them apart to illustrate his point.

“i think you need to get out more,” semi says, before the other can begin a tirade he really doesn’t want to hear.

“all i’m saying is-”

the starting shot interrupts reo, and they both turn to watch as the second heat takes off. yamagata instantly pulls a lead, but he’s pacing himself, because it doesn’t last, two people on his heels once they’re out of the first bend. eita loses interest on the second straight, but reo’s narration keeps him entertained enough to keep his eyes from wandering.

“see how they’re dropping off now? but watch haya-chan. he’s not speeding up or slowing down -it’s all been the same pace since the beginning.”

he was right. lap two comes around, and everyone besides yamagata was beginning to stagger, losing form or speed as they tried to push themselves, or recover from an earlier stint. he comes around the final bend several paces ahead of the rest, and in the final stretch pushes off into a dead sprint, easily placing first.

“wow,” eita mutters, as he lets reo stand and wrap an arm around his neck and shout in celebration. the crowd goes crazy and then settles as the results are compiled, and reo releases eita to stretch his arms above his head.

“alright, time for me to go.”

“good luck out there,” eita tells him, and he tosses him a thumbs-up in return before running off.

eita is on the infield, spread-eagle, when it finally gets dark enough to switch on the stadium floodlights. he takes it in stride, eyeing the setting sun, and is grateful that there was no school the following day.

“must be nice to have a two minute walk home,” he mutters to himself, thinking about everyone that lived on campus.

“there you are, semi! ready to go?”

he looks up from his legs to see the head coach ambling over. he can’t make out his eyes underneath the shade of the hat he wore, but his lips were pulled into a low grin, and that was enough to go on.

“ready,” he replies. “you sticking around to watch?”

“well, i’ll see what happens. there are a few things going on that i’ll have my eye on.”

eita nods, bending his legs so the bottoms of his feet press together. his shoes are in the grass to the side. coach eyes them for a moment.

“you got taiju’s old spikes, right? thought about trying them out yet?”

eita hums. “maybe. i don’t know. that seems like a big change to make.” he relaxes his legs, sitting up properly. “what i do now works.”

coach shrugs. “just a thought. you do what you want.” his pocket buzzes and he pulls out his phone. “hm. gotta run. i’ll find you again later, alright?”

“yeah.” eita waves him off, settling back to pull on his shoes and tighten the laces.

there’s only one heat for the 100m, and it supercharges eita, knowing he didn’t get the chance to instantly know results like this very often. kamasaki catches his eye from the far lane, but eita only distractedly nods at him, already slipping into hyper-focus mode. his record for the new term was 6.1s. as long as he aimed for that, he was golden.

he presses his fingerpads onto the track, looking up from them to eye the finish line. in, and out.

the breeze ruffles his hair, but he’s never let his bangs grow long enough to fall into his eyes. everything he does prepares him to run. every inconvenience considered.

his toes curl in his shoes, and very briefly, he wonders what a little more traction would feel like.

then the signal fires, and all his wonders disappear, taken up by one single focus.

he breaks easy three steps after the line, one foot in front of the other, and takes a moment to breathe. then he looks up to the scoreboard, not a moment too late, results flickering into the screen.

6.12 seconds. that was his time. second place was in the nines, and everyone else fell from there.

eita breathes out again, lifting his hands to rest on his head. that was the best he’d ever done, and it was for a practice meet.

“god, semi, they really weren’t kidding with saying you got faster!”

eita snaps out of it as kamasaki approaches. he didn’t catch the first part, but context wasn’t needed as he continues, so eita forgets about it.

“six seconds? that’s almost unbelievable, man.” kamasaki shakes his head. “here i was, thinking my height gave me an edge. you sure proved me wrong.”

eita glances at the scores again, confirming kamasaki’s time was second. “yours is still good,” he says, and kamasaki wrinkles his nose, so he presses on. “no, really. it’s not pity. that’s a top time in miyagi for sure.”

kamasaki laughs, but it’s awkward. his hand lands on eita’s shoulder. “well, thanks. good job today. it’s hard to believe we’re the same age.”

a roar from the crowd leaves them both distracted, and eita angles his head to the side of the field. “what’s that?” he mutters.

“i think high jump is still going on,” kamasaki confesses. “or maybe it’s triple. listen, i gotta run, i’m in a relay event soon. it was good to see you!” he pounds a fist to his chest. “next time i won’t lose!”

eita watches him go, replaying their conversation in his head as something catches his attention. he only realizes it was the comment about height, the same thing tendou had said to him, when mii comes up from behind and pokes at the backs of his knees, leaving him stumbling forward.

“sorry i missed it, but hey, that time speaks for itself,” she says, laughing off his annoyed expression. “seriously, how are you a highschooler? that much dedication should be illegal.”

“you really sure you wanna say that, captain?” eita quips.

she raises her hands in surrender. “hey, all i’m saying is that there are limits. you better do well on midterms, alright, or coach will have my head. even if you’re not here full-time, you’re still my responsibility as part of the team.” she hums, prying off her headband and smoothing back her hair so she can readjust it. “oh yeah, satori was looking for you earlier.”

eita perks up. “tendou?”

“don’t know what the vice pres wants, but he seemed pretty adamant about it, so i thought i’d warn you.” she jerks a thumb over her shoulder. “he should be near that way somewhere. well, field events are over now, so maybe now. worth a shot though.” she shrugs. “relay is starting, so i’m off. come watch if you have time!”

“good luck,” eita calls, moving away as well.

even with the swell in people, it’s not hard to spot tendou. ushijima is with him, but upon noticing eita, tendou breaks away to meet him, waving wildly.

“semisemi! i can’t believe you were competing- listen, this event we were watching was crazy! that first year you got has some serious talent.”

eita, confused, tips his head. “elaborate.”

“high jump! kawanishi-kun! yama made us watch, and wow, i’m glad he did. oh, did you see yama run? he’s pretty amazing, right? that’s really what i came for, but yama promised kawanishi-kun he’d watch his event, and then we got roped into it, and now the sun isn’t out anymore, but y’know, no school tomorrow, so it’s cool-”

“tendou,” eita interrupts, watching the other’s jaw snap shut. “mii-san said you needed me.”

“mayu? oh right! come with me!” tendou takes him by the arm and drags him forward, until they’re near ushijima again. “waka! look! i found him!”

“it was more like i found you,” eita mutters, but it goes unnoticed.

“hello, semi-kun,”ushijima says. eita nods back. “i look forward to working with you.”

“what?” eita stumbles, caught off-guard.

ushijima hums, taking his reaction in stride, then turns to tendou. “satori, you didn’t tell him yet, did you?”

tendou waves him off. “not yet, waka, geez, way to jump the gun. where’s yama?”

“with his junior.”

“oh fine then, forget about him. hey, semisemi, listen.” he turns to grab eita by both shoulders, and eita, shocked, lets it happen. “i need a favor.”

his lips downturn, slightly. “w-what?”

“be on our relay team for sports day.”

“huh?” eita deadpans, mentally tracking the dates. “but that’s weeks away!”

“it’s on june fifth,” ushijima supplies, and eita’s eyes fall shut.

“and student council’s already planned it,” he realizes. “why me, exactly?”

“we need a fourth person!�� tendou finally releases him, stepping back. “and you’re perfect! no matter how far behind we are, if we put you as the last leg, it’s a guaranteed win! at least, that’s what yama said,” he finishes, trailing off and losing some of his energy with the last bit.

eita’s brows rise. “you have no idea, do you?”

tendou snaps his fingers. “relay runner. right? that’s why yama-”

“those are going on now.”

tendou falters, but he regains his energy in a heartbeat. “please be on our team!” he holds a thumbs-up and eita’s arms cross over his chest.

“if it’s that important to you, i suppose i can consider.”

“you’re messing with me again, aren’t you?” tendou mutters, turning his hand so it’s a thumbs-down.

eita snorts. “who plans out stuff this far in advance?”

“me! it’s literally my job!”

“oh, right.”

tendou sighs, turning to ushijima and slowly shaking his head.

eita shrugs. “well, if that’s all you-”

“wait, wait!” tendou yells, stopping up. “it’s late. come eat with us.”

“i can’t leave until this is all over,” eita admits, a little touched by the invite.

“then i’ll bring you something. you must be starved from being out here so long. here, give me your line.”

eita feels strangely coerced, as he enters his line info into tendou’s phone, but he doesn’t mind, either. his own phone was still sitting in his jacket, out on the field. he should probably go grab it.

“just sit somewhere i can reach you,” tendou tells him, and eita assures him he would, waving the two off. he could at least get his jacket before retreating to the outskirts again. it was cold, even for may. and tendou was right -he was hungry. even if he went home to a hot meal waiting, it would still have to be after everything was wrapped up here, and that would take time.

it was. nice. for him to bring eita something. to go out of his way like that.

he’d never had a friend quite like that before.

miracleboy. what can you even eat??? waka is being unhelpful miracleboy. theres fruit miracleboy. you want an apple? miracleboy. oh wait miracleboy. [photo attached]

eita is reclined on a higher part of the hill, having a better view of the entire track from up here. he’s distracted from relays by tendou’s incessant messages, but he doesn’t mind, smiling and rolling his eyes each time his phone chimes.

semieita the muffins look good

miracleboy. noted! ill grab a couple

semieita thanks

miracleboy. yama says hi, btw miracleboy. [photo attached]

eita squints up at his phone, opening the attachment to see a blurry picture of yamagata hayato halfway forming a peace sign. the background is obviously the school cafeteria.

semieita odd, since he’s supposed to be here

miracleboy. hes “““lost��”” rn semisemi miracleboy. b back before it ends

semieita right. sure. got it. whatever you say

miracleboy. how can you b that sarcastic thru text

“semi-san?”

eita looks up from his phone to find kawanishi taichi hiking up closer, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. he drops his phone to his chest, sitting up a little more.

kawanishi stops short, looking ruffled. “have you seen yamagata-san around?”

“no,” eita says, perhaps a little too quickly. “but i can help, if you need something,” he tries, trying to smooth it over. “you’re kawanishi, right?”

“you can just call me taichi,” he mutters, face turned to the ground.

“taichi-kun, then.” eita blinks, as taichi stays like that. his phone buzzes and he pockets it, moving to properly sit up. “everything okay?”

“uh, yeah.” taichi shrugs. “sorry. i’m just a little lost.”

eita gestures to the grass and, after a moment, taichi sits down. “i saw your event,” he starts. this gains taichi’s attention, and he finally looks up again. “not the main one,” eita clarifies. “the 800. you did pretty well, for your first time.”

taichi’s lips quick up, turning wry. “not really my strong suit, huh? you should’ve seen my field event.”

“next time,” eita promises.

taichi perks up a little more. “really?”

“as long as they don’t overlap again.” he nods, committing before he can back out.

“i’d like that,” taichi admits. “and, um, you were really amazing today! i’ve never seen someone that fast in person.”

eita blinks, and then it all hits him, and he can’t believe he didn’t realize sooner. the bashfulness, the quiet, the wanting, the praise -kawanishi taichi, to a certain extent, looked up to eita.

it’s the first moment being an upperclassman has really hit him, really set in. he doesn’t know what to do with this information. actually, he has an idea, but he thinks trying to ruffle taichi’s hair would be too much.

“’in person’ is an interesting distinction to make.”

“well, i mean.” taichi turns his head to the side. “i’ve seen the olympics,” he mutters.

eita can’t help the laugh that tears from his throat. taichi doesn’t seem to mind. he wants to say something, eita can tell, but before he can eita’s phone starts going off, and he pries it from his pocket.

it’s tendou, calling. “what?” he answers.

“semisemi, thank god! i thought someone got you! how could you just not reply like that?”

eita’s smile is easy on his lips. “i was busy.”

“well, get un-busy! i need to know where you are.”

eita rolls his eyes and relays his location, then glances down at taichi. “hey, is yamagata sneaking back with you? tell him he forgot something.”

“shhh, semisemi, secret, remember? and forgot wha-”

there’s noise on the other end, muffled, though eita makes out a tai-chan in the midst.

“noted,” tendou eventually says. “see you soon. don’t move or anything! you’re a lot harder to find than i am!”

eita hangs up and tosses the phone into the grass next to his feet. “alright, kid, you’re all set. wanna wait here?” he points down to the field. “or you can join the party down there.”

literal, as all the members of the shiratorizawa boys 4x400m relay are dog-piled by their peers and then lifted into the air. the victory shouts reach all the way up here.

“oh, nao’s in there,” taichi says, mostly to himself. eita smiles and leans forward.

“go see him, then. yamagata will find you soon enough.”

“okay.” taichi stands, moves down a few feet, then turns back. “thanks, semi-san.”

eita waves him down.

“one delivery for semisemi!”

eita leans his head back to see tendou sliding down from over the incline. he presents a package made from a wrapped napkin that eita reaches up to carefully take.

inside are two mixed-berry muffins, each just smaller than his fist, and a handful of ocean crackers. there’s warmth coming from the muffins.

“thanks,” he says, while tendou takes a seat next to him, spreading his lanky limbs across the grass.

“no problem. oh hey, mayu’s race is starting!”

eita turns to the field with one of the muffins in hand, biting into it. he squints when he makes out the girls dressed in purple. “which one’s she?”

“there!” tendou points to the leadoff, and when she turns to address the others, her braid flies over her shoulder. eita hums.

“mii-san?” that would make this the 4x100m, and the last race of the night.

“yep. man, i’m glad i caught it, since she asked me to stay. would’ve had to ask someone for the results otherwise, and that’s a whole hassle, y’know?”

eita stuffs some of the crackers past his lips. “you mean, to make it seem like you watched?”

tendou winces, then turns hard to face him. “listen, semisemi, do you have any idea what mayu is like when she’s mad?”

“a little,” eita answers, recalling earlier that afternoon. he shivers, suddenly understanding. “good point.”

mayu. something about that bugged him. and, hadn’t she called him satori, earlier?

eita finishes the first muffin and glances over at tendou, finding him completely transfixed as all the relay runners get into position. well, if he came to that conclusion, it was understandable, right? it made sense, right?

eita finishes his food, and the girls win their race, and the two of them pick their way back down to solid ground as the commotion settles. eita hangs back a step or two behind tendou as he moves easily across a corner of the field and onto the track. “mayu!” he calls, gaining the track team captain’s attention with ease.

“satori!” she calls back, and then she’s swept up into a hug. “you actually stuck around!”

“you were amazing! are you like that every time? why aren’t you on top of the world yet?”

mii blushes at this, pushing him away. “that’s too much,” she says, and tendou backs off with a laugh.

“nice one, captain,” eita chimes in, and mii looks over at him, her eyes lighting up.

“semi!” she folds him into a hug, too, probably still high off the euphoria. “i know you’re glad this is all over. thanks for sticking around.”

“no problem,” he wheezes, and she releases him with a laugh that breaks into a thoughtful look.

“hey, how are you getting home? it’s so dark out now.”

eita shrugs. “i’ll-”

“you still have your bike, right?” she asks tendou. “why don’t you take him?”

“oho!” tendou claps his hands together. “i like the way you think, mayu. i even know the way,” he sings, dragging the last word out.

“don’t i get a say?” eita asks, disgruntled.

“nope!” both of them reply in sync, smiling at him.

“just tag along with this guy a little longer,” mii orders, pointing to tendou. “for my peace of mind.”

“i’ll have to go grab my bike,” tendou notes, and mii shrugs.

“you can go now. just meet semi at the clubroom.”

“isn’t there a meeting soon?” eita asks, gesturing to everyone around them packing up.

mii shakes her head. “yes and no. it’s not important. i’ll tell them you went home early. just remember there’s no practice next week.”

“sure i won’t miss anything?”

“i’ll message satori if it’s important.”

“why do i feel like you’re trying to get rid of me?”

“nah.” she flaps her hand, gesturing for him to go away. “you’re imagining it. try not to move anyone’s stuff around when you grab your things, okay, or i’ll have to kill you to appease the masses.”

that certainly explained away the ulterior motive. “sleeping there is unhealthy,” eita calls, once he’s further away.

“some of us don’t test well like you do!” mii shouts back as she takes off her headband. she moves it over her thumb and uses it like a slingshot, firing at another third-year who screams in response.

eita leaves behind the track field’s happy atmosphere for one of his own making. he throws his button-up on over his shirt, letting it hang open, and trades his shorts for shiratorizawa’s standard slacks, knowing it was only bound to get colder.

tendou is waiting for him when he leaves, sitting easy on a bicycle, legs splayed on the ground on either side of the front wheel. he looks up and his smile grows when he sees eita. “all ready?”

“there’s not a stand on the back,” eita notes, hesitance growing as he approaches. “how are we doing this?”

“pegs!” tendou kicks back at one and eita nearly rolls his eyes to the back of his skull.

“that’s one solution, i guess,” he mutters as he climbs up, placing his hands on tendou’s shoulders for balance. tendou hums and kicks off, and eita hopes his biking skills aren’t as wild as the rest of him.

surprisingly, there are no incidents. eita is deposited on his doorstep in good care, and he waves at tendou until he can’t make him out anymore before going inside.

eita is cooling off in the shade from a day’s worth of events when tendou finally manages to find him and inform him of their latest plight.

“what?” his face scrunches up. “yamagata’s sick? is he skipping? how does that even happen?”

“yama just has the worst luck like that,” tendou whines, stomping his foot. “waka went to find us a replacement, but as far as i know he’s only planning to ask reon, and he’s already on a team with the other volleyball second-years. we might be outta luck here.”

eita shrugs, not really that disappointed by it, even as tendou resumes his whining. eventually he lets tendou pull him to his feet, and they re-join the festivities.

“oh, but i did enter you in the 50 meter,” tendou says, the only part of his never-ending rant that eita tunes in to listen to, and it has him braking, so that tendou is forced to pause when he refuses to release eita’s arm.

“what?”

“the race?” tendou frowns. “you have to race, eita. especially since the relay is off. i know it’s not far, but c’mon, running is your thing. you’ll love it.”

“i wish you would’ve asked before doing it,” eita mutters, still refusing to budge.

“aw, c’mon semisemi, do it for yama! think at how miserable he is, missing out on all this.”

“yeah, whatever, i’ll do it.” he looks down at his sneakers. “but i need my shoes if i’m doing this for real.”

tendou perks back up. “then let’s go!”

eita raises a brow. “to the other side of the school? ha ha, tendou. very funny.”

“if we’re careful we can go and be back before anyone notices.”

“and since when are you careful or tactful about anything?”

tendou winks. “you’d be surprised. plus, i have a fallback card. and if you’re with me, it applies to you too.”

“yeah?” he crosses his arms. “let’s hear it, then.”

“student council perks mean i can run around the school without anyone batting an eye. if someone asks i’ll make up an excuse.”

oh. that actually was a good point.

his thought must show on his face, because tendou grins, and he knows he’s yielded the argument with no further conversation necessary.

“this room is nice,” tendou notes, looking around as eita jerks his duffel from his cubby.

“‘s fine.” eita gives up on subtlety and kicks his sneakers off, then sits down on the ground to wrestle his socks off. he’d come grab them before practice.

he’s stretching several minutes before the all-out race was due to start when tendou asks the question he’d been pondering in the clubroom.

“hey, semisemi, so yama showed me this magazine article the other day, and it said all the pro trackletes never wear socks. so what about you? you switched from the school-issued ones, but the half-size you have on now are still a layer between you and the shoes.”

eita pauses, bent forward. “please never say trackletes again,” he says absently, gears turning in his mind as he looks down at his feet.

while tendou is blubbering about something he could care less about, eita rips one shoe off then pries the sock from his foot and wiggles his free toes. his gaze moves between them and the shoe. “i’ve never thought about that,” he admits, and tendou stops talking.

“the article said for some it was for comfort, that others could feel the ground better underfoot, or their shoe fit tighter without the added layer,” tendou adds slowly, watching as eita unties the laces and slips the shoe back on, barefoot.

he doesn’t quite frown, but his lips twist, once his foot is all the way in. he pulls on the laces a little, shifts his foot around. then he pulls tighter and ties a single knot, and stands.

“it’s weird,” he mumbles. “but not bad. it’s-” he sits back down and slips his other shoe off to repeat the process, and tendou hangs back and watches until he’s back on his feet, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“yeah, okay,” he starts, and then there’s a call for the race participants, and he bends down to pick up his socks and press them into tendou’s hands. “hold onto these for me.”

“what?” tendou cries. “you’re giving me-! semi!”

“hey, this was your idea!” eita calls, already heading off, bouncing every other step.

it’s not an all-out race, because there’s only so much space, so eita is delegated to waiting a while. he walks around in his shoes for a spell, getting used to the feeling.

50 meters was nothing. a perfect test, really.

and like that, the competition had, for eita, turned into an experiment.

“that didn’t feel too bad,” eita admits as he stuffs his socks in the pocket of his shorts. tendou cries out when he sees this.

“you could’ve done that from the beginning!”

eita shrugs. “consider it payback for entering me without permission.”

“yeah, whatever.” tendou slouches. “have fun at practice. i’ll be here, cleaning up.”

eita knocks at his shoulder. “thanks for the suggestion.”

“don’t get any blisters.”

“i’ll be careful.”

the first open track meet for miyagi prefecture is almost three weeks since eita started running sockless, and ten minutes to go to his event, he’s panicking.

a rewind is necessary, so in simple terms, this is what happened to cause the needless panic.

eita stretches. it’s hot. he pulls on his shoes, doing the laces up tight, but after a lap around the perimeter of the infield, his feet feel clammy, and in particular, his left shoe is loose. not enough to come off, not by far, but enough to where it matters, to where it’s an unnecessary distraction.

eita sits back down and undoes the knot, then pulls excessively tight on the laces to lock his foot into place.

and they snap.

“it’s over,” eita groans, lying with his hands over his face and his eyes closed to the harsh sunlight overhead. not that it mattered, because the combined shadows of mii and reo crouching over him blocked it out. they both share a look.

“yeah, that sucks,” reo starts, but he’s cut off abruptly -eita suspects it’s because of mii, mostly because he’s been on the end of her sharp elbows before.

“you still have time.” mii hums, pulling out her phone. “i wonder if concessions sells any as trinkets. would be worth a shot.” her voice trails off as she moves away, raising her phone to her ear. reo crouches down near eita’s head.

“you need new shoes?” he ponders. “maybe they’re too stretched out.”

“i can think about that after the meet is over,” eita mutters, removing his hands from his face. he opens his eyes to half-mast. “where did mii-san go? i don’t want to wallow anymore. she’s good at snapping people out of it.”

“well, sorry for not being good enough emotional support. she’s-”

“hey, semi, get up.” mii kicks at his foot -specifically, at the shoe with the broken laces. “i called satori. he’s at the edge of the field.”

“tendou?” eita mutters, leaning up on his elbows. “what’s he gonna do?”

“didn’t say. but you have five minutes, so i’d just go along with it.”

“maybe he’ll put me out of my misery,” eita sighs, leaning his head back and letting the rest of him go slack.

“four minutes and counting,” reo sings, and that’s enough to drive him to a stand, stumbling in the direction mii points to.

tendou is indeed waiting, just on the other side of the small fence separating the turf from the rest. when eita reaches him he immediately jumps it with zero regards to his inability to be there, then pulls eita down to the ground so they’re both out of the way.

“give me your shoe,” he demands, and eita tugs it off and tosses it over. with deft fingers, tendou removes the bright laces, mapping the path at he tugs them loose. then he pulls an old pair of white ones out and starts lacing them in the same pattern.

eita’s brow creases as he watches. “that was fast. how did you get spares out here?”

“they’re mine,” tendou says. “as in, from my kicks, now,” he elaborates, and eita blanches, looking down to tendou’s left shoe that was indeed laceless.

“what? why would you do that?” he sputters.

“you don’t have any time.” tendou shrugs. “you can give them back after your race, alright? here, i’m done.” he hands the shoe back and eita numbly slips it back on, doing the laces up tight until everything is snug.

“thank you,” eita mumbles, nearly at a loss for words. tendou helps him to his feet and claps him on the shoulder.

“if you don’t win with my laces, i might have to fine you,” he jokes. eita rolls his eyes, the numb spell officially broken as he shakes off tendou’s hand.

maybe he’s still frazzled, or maybe he’s not quite used to the new style just yet, because eita’s time is less-than-impressive, for his standards. he clocks in at just under seven seconds, which is more than enough to place him at first, but there’s a lack of self satisfaction from it.

“time for new shoes,” one of the assistant coaches suggests, when he tries to explain this. “shame about the laces. i don’t think you’ve gotten slower with no socks, so if you like it, keep doing it. you’ve got one month until the qualifier, so there’s time to figure out what you do and don’t like.”

that was pretty solid advice, actually. another of the short-distance coaches makes a note about modifying his regimen if he had to break in new shoes, and it leaves eita strangely touched.

he finds tendou nearly in the same spot he’d left him in, back on the correct side of the fence but leaned so far over it that it almost didn’t matter. he grins as he catches eita’s eye, and eita knows that this time, he’d caught his event as it happened.

this time it’s eita that climbs over to settle on the concrete on the other side of the barrier. tendou slides down until he’s sat beside eita, accepting his laces back when they’re finally pulled free. he’s doing them up in his own shoe again when he finally bothers to speak.

“wanna go shopping for more?”

“you seem like the last person i should go get shoelaces with,” eita say before he can help himself. tendou throws back his head and laughs.

“why not? we could get some cool ones. like in neon colors, or stripes, or words, or-”

eita breathes out in annoyance and tendou breaks off as he catches the tail-end of a mock-deadpan expression that conveys this was the exact reason he was hesitant to take tendou along. then he’s turning the other way to hide a smile, a brief upturn of the corners of his lips, and tendou reaches out to jab him in the side, causing eita to squeak.

“wanna go later?” tendou offers. “not like you’re tired or anything. you only have one race, right?”

eita shakes his head. “yeah, but. tomorrow. tomorrow,” he promises, and tendou settles back.

“no backing out now, semisemi.”

“don’t make me regret this.”

there’s no school the next day, so eita and tendou meet up at the shopping district in the early afternoon. the first sporting goods store they wander into is small, and it doesn’t take long for them to be the only ones occupying the space.

eita pulls off four boxes from the shelves from the same brand as his current track shoes and drops them to the floor next to a bench. tendou leans over and pries the tip of one of the lids up, whistling when he sees the style.

unfortunately, the pair he really liked end up being one of two eita near immediately nix as he removes them from the box, not even bothering to try them on as he finds faults with closer examination that he couldn’t live with.

“shut up, tendou!” he snaps as the other’s whining becomes intolerable. “i practically have to live in these shoes! they need to be perfect, or as close as possible.”

eventually it gets to the point where eita wonders why he’d invited tendou in the first place, and banishes the other to another section of the store. that only meant he’d have to deal with having replacement shoelaces forced onto him later, but he was willing if it meant getting through this part quietly.

he puts one shoe from the remaining pairs on each foot and gently kicks the ground with his heel. it felt weird to try on shoes without socks, but if he was going to be wearing them like this anyway, it was the only good way to test them out.

after walking around some eita finds a frown forming on his face. there was only one thing he needed to see about, and he couldn’t-

wait.

“hey, tendou,” he calls, and after a moment, the redhead appears from behind a shelf, expression suggesting he was still sulking. “are we still the only customers?”

“yeah. staff is in the back, too, so-” he breaks off, blinking, and then grins. “what are you planning?”

“i need a straight shot,” he confesses. “twenty meters or so.”

“if you’re at the back wall you could run down the center aisle.” tendou rocks back on his heels, thinking. “you should hit twenty before the door. let me see if anything’s in the way.”

technically there weren’t any other customers to disturb, but eita is silently grateful none of the staff was around to catch them, knowing it would be something they’d disapprove of.

with tendou’s help they clear a path and eita leans one foot against the back wall, eyeing the distance. the store wasn’t big, but he’d brake well before the door.

he crouches down, lets his fingers run over the smooth flooring.

then he rockets off, near full speed, and his teeth are clenched by the time he’s stopped. tendou moves forward, humming in approval.

“that’s not a good sign,” he says, as eita tugs the left shoe off.

“no, it is. it’s this one.” he vaguely points to the shoe on his right foot. “this one’s good.”

“as close to perfect as possible,” tendou quotes, nodding. he trails eita as he wanders back to retrieve the box, and the other shoe to the pair. “except the laces are white, so you need better ones.”

eita rolls his eyes, but he’s still in front of tendou, so it’s purely for his own satisfaction. “they are a little short,” he mentions, and that’s enough to have tendou running off again.

in the end he ends up with the shoes, a lavender pair of laces (“because school colors, semisemi!” tendou had insisted) and a black pair of spares. he’s smiling when they exit the store, and tendou notices, nudging him with his shoulder.

“well that was fun!”

“nope,�� eita argues, but there’s no heat to it, and he’s still smiling, so tendou reads it as a joke right away.

before the end of the month, eita is coerced into seeing a volleyball game. he has better things to do -like break in the shoes- and doesn’t really know anything about volleyball -and would rather break in the shoes- and wants to focus on other things -like the sho

but tendou tells him he could run to school and back home, and that’s enough to make eita show up at the gymnasium that evening, looking a little lost among the teems of people that had showed up for a mere practice match.

“no one has anything better to do,” tendou tells him, leading him over to a few free spaces in the stands. eita recognizes oohira from 2-B when he turns to address tendou, having heard the remark.

“it’s pre-exam jitters. people will take any chance they get to focus on something that isn’t academic related.” he nods to eita from tendou’s other side. “hey, semi.”

eita nods back, gaze falling to the court. “ushijima-san. is he any good?”

oohira coughs, trying to be polite, but tendou has no problem in throwing his head back and cackling, and eita leans away, frowning as he realizes he’s asked a stupid question.

“waka’s on another level,” tendou tells him, once he’s calmed down. “well, all of our sports teams are top-tier, and volleyball is no exception. just watch. you’ll see.”

eita sees.

shiratorizawa destroys their opponent in the first set 25-14. ushijima ends it with a spike into the court so hard eita feels his teeth chatter. if anyone had gone for that, their arms would’ve come off, for sure.

they’re switching sides for the second set when a shuffling occurs further down the stands, and suddenly oohira is being pushed over, causing tendou to suddenly very much be in eita’s space. “what-”

“sorry i’m late,” the newcomer says, peeking out from behind oohira’s bulk. “i couldn’t find my phone.”

“yama!” tendou exclaims. “it’s about time!”

“you always have the same excuse,” oohira notes.

“because it’s true,” yamagata protests. “it keeps happening to me! i must’ve rolled some bad luck at new years, because this didn’t happen at all last year.”

“he’s very forgetful, semisemi,” tendou turns to tell him, holding one hand over the side of his mouth.

yamagata perks up as he catches the words. “semi’s here?” he leans more around oohira.

“oh, right! you two don’t really know each other, huh?” tendou slings an arm around eita, ignoring his grunt of protest. “yama, this is semi eita! semi, this is yamagata. you’re in the same club. if you bothered to show up more than twice a week you might’ve had-” he breaks off to gasp “-a real conversation before all this!”

“it’s not like i’m skipping,” eita protests, brows furrowed. he waves distractedly to yamagata, who returns it after shaking a look with oohira. “i just get more done by myself.”

“that sounds like a motto you shouldn’t strive for,” tendou points out, and eita finally escapes from his hold as the whistle to start the second set sounds.

yamagata snorts. “well, semi’s leagues better than the rest of us. the coaches are practically fast-tracking him for the all-youth.”

eita blinks, attention ripped from the match, and he has to physically turn his head to look down toward yamagata. “what?”

yamagata glances over, sees eita’s expression, and then turns to him properly. “yeah, the under-eighteen reps? wakatoshi’s one of them too.”

“they’ve said that?” eita asks, a little stunned.

he shrugs. “no, but it’s implied. they’re helping you with individual training. it’s like singling you out of the group. no one on the team can deny that you’d be the one deserving of special attention. i mean, did you see your time at the practice meet? impressive doesn’t cut it.”

“you’re over-exaggerating,” eita mumbles, barely audible over the roar of the crowd as shiratorizawa earns another point.

“they could be prepping you for worlds,” yamagata muses. “never can tell what coach is thinking.”

“wait wait wait.” tendou throws his hands in the air. “you’re telling me semi is potentially qualified to compete internationally?”

yamagata shrugs, and there’s a pointed look in his eye. “you tell me. you saw him run last time.”

“i still think that’s a bit much,” eita protests.

“you wouldn’t want to?” yamagata smiles, and though it’s more along the lines of a leer, it’s sincere, too. “if they give you the chance, you should take it, semi. you’re good enough. everyone on the team knows that.”

those words stay with him through the rest of the match, and on his run home. everyone on the team. it wasn’t said with any sort of malice. and before, when he had talked about eita getting special attention, there wasn’t any jealousy coloring the words. the consensus was that eita was amazing, incredible, even, and everyone on the team respected that.

but he hadn’t thought. well. about that before. he knew he liked running. he knew he was good at it. but he’d never thought about competing outside the nationwide school system. much less globally. he’d never even considered it before.

and now that the seed is planted, he can’t deny that if he was given the chance, he’d probably take it.

that’s why he leaves early, just after the practice match ends in shiratorizawa’s victory. tendou is high off the win and anxious to tell ushijima so, but he stays back to see eita off, recognizing there was a lot on his mind and he wasn’t going to stick around.

“it wasn’t a complete waste of time,” eita ends up saying, and tendou sputters.

“just admit you had fun!”

“yeah, fine.” eita sighs, then smiles. “it was fun. thanks for inviting me. i’ll see you around.”

he leaves fully invested in internal thoughts, so tendou’s sudden blush goes completely unnoticed. well, to him.

“dude,” yamagata says, coming up behind tendou. he pokes tendou’s arm, making sure his friend is still alive. “you got it bad.”

if anything, tendou blushes harder, spinning on his heel to glare down at yamagata. “SHUT-

practice today is one of those longer exercises that cover the entire team, and they’re free to leave after they finish. after dismissing everyone to get to it, one of the mid-distance coaches calls out to eita, stopping him before he can begin.

“how are the shoes?” he asks, and eita is a bit taken aback. “are they broken in?”

“for the most part,” he answers after a moment.

“well, take it at your own pace, then. wouldn’t want you getting blisters. it’s been pretty hot lately. usually when you stop running with socks one of the main things you look out for is making sure your feet stay dry. are those breathable enough?”

eita looks down at his shoes, then curves them in, feeling around. “they’re good. i’ve been washing them, too, but not too much. i’m worried they’ll lose shape.”

“start putting in powder and you’ll get away with washing less.” eita’s face screws up and he takes this into account. “not a lot. not enough to lose grip. just a little here and there. i have some in my bag if you ever want to try it out.”

“yeah, thanks.”

he notices, now. has ever since the volleyball match. the coaches do their best to accommodate him when he shows up for practice. they care about everyone, of course. he wouldn’t know for sure unless he hung around more, but he’s almost positive they looked out for all the athletes under their care. made sure they were doing well. checked in when they weren’t.

and yet, it’s different. when they give everyone the same set of exercises but tell eita he can change his to a certain extent, yeah, it’s noticeable. it’s not uncomfortable. he doesn’t mind. just merely an observation, one that makes yamagata’s words take root, that makes the gears in his mind start turning, start hoping.

maybe if i make a good impression at nationals again, it’ll open up more doors.

“no,” he mutters later, as he’s running. “i’m going to win nationals. that’ll open up more doors than i’ll know what to do with.”

“you’ve got some high ambitions.”

eita perks up, turning his head to see kawanishi taichi suddenly keeping stride with him. he slows a little to make it easier for the first-year, but it’s apparently unwelcome, because taichi’s lips twist into a light frown.

“you heard that,” eita states. taichi looks at him funny and eita rolls his eyes. “yeah, guess i was talking aloud. i don’t know. i think nationals last year in fukui has been the only real competition i’ve had since i came here.”

“that sounds depressing,” taichi answers, deadpan. eita snorts before he can catch himself, and slowly, taichi’s lips quirk up in response.

“and you?” eita asks, suddenly curious. “you’re the track star of your grade. what do you think of everything so far?”

taichi takes a minute to answer, but it’s worth it, because eita likes his response. the change to a mid-distance event. the challenge. being encouraged to push himself. having upperclassman around willing to help him where he needs it.

“i like it here,” he finishes.

“yeah,” eita echoes. “me too.”

“do you?” taichi shrugs when eita turns to look at him questioningly. “you just said there’s no real challenge. and you’re never here. i mean, you are, you are right now, but not a lot. not as much as you could be, if being around a support system was something you really cared about.”

“i think,” eita starts, after mulling it over, “that i like to do things my own way, and that takes priority. being here hasn’t changed that. but the experiences i’ve had with the team have changed things. changed me. everyone motivates me to do better, to be better. better at, like, normal things, not just running. i like shiratorizawa because everyone is at the top of their game, and yet everyone stays humble. like you. you’re amazing at your field event, and yet you’re trying a track event to experiment, even if it means getting lower results than you’re used to. you didn’t mention high jump at all when you talked about why you liked this place.

“so that’s why, even here in miyagi, every meet i’m so excited i can’t hardly stand it. i’m pushed to improve myself. even if it’s only me versus the clock, i still have so much fun. it’s supposed to be fun, in the end, right?” he smiles. “i’m glad i came to a school that makes running fun.”

taichi is quiet, but he still keeps pace with eita. it’s not until they’re almost done that he speaks again, expressing his desire for eita to see him compete again.

eita laughs, admiring his determination. “i said i would, right? if-”

“no,” taichi interrupts. “the mid-distance one. i wasn’t sure, before, because i’m still not nearly as good as i want to be. but.” he bites down on his lip. “but, after hearing all that, i realize it doesn’t really matter. i’m not going to be amazing right out of the gate, and i don’t care. i still want you to see me run.”

“then it’s a promise.” taichi looks over and eita smiles. “at the qualifier. work hard until then.”

tendou and yamagata exchange looks as eita rehashes his conversation with taichi the day before.

then yamagata’s look turns into a leer that tendou rolls his eyes at.

“semisemi, i’m not sure i’d call that admiration,” tendou says.

“huh?” eita looks up from his lunch, brows creased. “then what is it?”

“it’s-” yamagata is cut off with an elbow to his stomach, wheezing, and tendou takes control of the conversation again.

“don’t worry about it. kawanishi-kun will mention it when he wants to.”

eita hums, but doesn’t probe for further explanation.

exams come and go, but even as summer rears its head full-force, eita still finds himself venturing out to school.

it would still be a few days until regular practice resumed, so the only reason he had for being here was one tendou satori.

“waka’s family live on the outskirts of the city,” he explains to eita one afternoon, when they’re sprawled in the shade of one of the big trees in the front courtyard. he spreads his arms in the air. “big place. he’ll come back for volleyball, but being home is more important to his folks, so he makes a point to divide his time.

“yama’s mom lives alone with his younger sisters, so he goes home during breaks to help out. i think the girls would cry if their big brother decided not to come, so it’s always been an easy choice for him.

and my parents aren’t in miyagi, so it’s either i make the long haul home, or choose the easy option and stay here.” his nose wrinkles in quiet distaste. “i’d rather be alone here all summer than go back to that house.”

eita doesn’t know what all to think of that, but he doesn’t ask, either, not wanting to bother tendou. he seemed on the verge of being upset. better to not make it worse.

“well, i’m here.” he lolls his head to the side to stare at tendou. “i’ve got nothing going on. my parents are chill. if you get tired of campus you can stay over.”

tendou turns his head to look back. “and if i don’t?”

“i can keep coming back, just like this.” eita’s fingers twitch, ruffling the grass. he doesn’t move them further. “whenever you want.”

tendou grins. “that’s a dangerous game to play, semisemi.”

“well, i mean, if it’s absurd enough i can always say no.”

“damn. here’s me thinking sneaking you onto campus at four in the morning would be pretty awesome.”

“yeah, you’ll have to try something else. you wake me up in the middle of the night and i’ll have to contemplate killing you.”

“scary.”

“normal.”

“i’m telling you, that’s not a normal response.”

“and what would you know about normal?”

“hey.” tendou kicks out, landing a blow under eita’s knee, and he winces. in the next moment he’s kicking back, hard enough to bruise, and all tendou does is flop from his back onto his side, facing him, and start laughing.

“you said you had something to try,” tendou says later, when they’ve both calmed down.

“yeah. i’m thinking about putting spikes in,” eita admits.

“your shoes?” tendou sits up halfway, leaning on an elbow. “like yama has? the ones for better traction?”

“i got some at the start of first term,” eita mumbles, nodding. “really good ones. i’ve been debating using them. lots of people want me to try, so i think it’d be good to indulge them if they think i’ll like it. but at the same time . . i don’t know. i’m worried, i guess. about the change. being elevated like that, even if it’s less than a centimeter from the track -it makes me nervous. i like to be able to feel myself push off at every step. having spikes in means i’ll be sacrificing some of that.”

“you can always take them out,” tendou notes. “if you don’t like them.” he sits up fully. “let’s go now! no one’s on the track, so it’s perfect. the spikes are in your clubroom, right?” eita nods. “and you have the key, right?” another nod. tendou grins and pulls himself to his feet, then offers a hand to eita to do the same.

eita lets himself be hoisted up, and then tendou is physically dragging him across campus, until they’re in front of a battered door and eita is wrestling the key into the lock in his sudden excitement.

it takes a minute to put all the spikes in. they do it in the clubroom, even with the lack of air conditioning, because it meant being out of the hot sun for a bit. eita leaves barefoot when he’s ready, shoes swinging from one hand, and takes tendou out onto the track, climbing up the fence and then over the hill.

“no one is around to care,” eita says, as he sits down to throw the shoes on. “besides, even if they do, it’ll hurt your reputation more than mine.”

tendou places a hand over his heart. “ouch, semisemi.”

walking is weird, with the spikes, but walking wasn’t really the point. eita locks his knees and bends down to touch his toes, feeling the strain in his legs. “damn,” he mutters, realizing he wasn’t going to get away with not stretching properly. he kicks the shoes off and flops down on the track’s perimeter, bringing the bottom of his feet together and pressing down on his knees with his elbows. “give me a minute,” he throws over his shoulder.

but tendou isn’t there. it takes a second to realize he’s re-settled in front of eita, and even then, he’s still shocked when tendou reaches forward to grab his leg at the bend of his knee, pulling until it straightened out.

“lean back, semisemi,” tendou murmurs, moving his foot into the air. “i used to do this for waka all the time.”

eita doesn’t know what compels him, but he obeys, lying back on the grass. tendou rises to his knees and pushes eita’s leg until it’s in a deep stretch towards his chest. he tugs eita’s toes down and the entire leg twitches with the added effort.

tendou does his other leg after a spell, the exact same and then a couple extra, and then unceremoniously drops both legs to the ground. eita huffs in surprise as they land, and his eyes pop open. it’s not long until he’s glaring at tendou, even with their angle awkward for eye contact.

this time, when eita settles onto the track, he moves into a low start position. “count me off,” he mutters, and tendou moves to rest in the next lane, nodding.

“three.”

just to the forty. he could see the mark.

“two.”

or maybe the full 100, who was he kidding.

“one.”

actually, if this was a true test, shouldn’t he just go as far as possible? get a feel for it?

“go!”

eita is near the 80m mark before he slows, blinking down at the shoes. he jogs back over.

“well?” when he looks up tendou is bent forward, eager. “how was it?”

“dragging.” eita purses his lips. “it felt like i was digging into the track. but instead of being able to push off easier, it felt like i was getting stuck.”

“you probably have to get used to them.”

“i know. i just don’t like adjusting. i just like things to be good, y’know?”

“i hear ya.” tendou leans his chin against an open palm. “try again. this time go all the way down, then run back.”

they pass the better part of the afternoon like that, indulging eita’s whims. not that tendou seemed to mind. he even takes eita home, as they both realize the only pair of shoes he’d worn out now weren’t suitable to walk around the streets in. eita’s mom is certainly surprised, when she opens the door to find her son barefoot. she waves to tendou just before he leaves again.

“that was nice of him,” she mentions, while eita drops his track shoes in the entryway and explains away his earlier plight. when he stands again it’s in house slippers. “you have a good friend, eita.”

friend. eita wonders when exactly that had happened.

#tensemi #haikyuu!!#tendou satori #semi eita #shiratorizawa #hq!!#hq #writing #hhh this is rough i scanned for spelling errors but thats it #i have an hour til i have to leave n still have things to do #this wasnt where i wantd to end bt year 2 is super long?#so this is where its ending #anyway pt 2 on may 20!! hopefully #pls rb if you liked this !

20 notes · View notes

shhhlikeme · 4 years ago

Text

“Losty Aone” / “Losty Mountain Man🏔” Series:

Outtake Collection #6

———————————

A/N: 1 word, 5 letters: D R A M A

Pls peep the vote at the end! I know there are not very many of you who read this so I want to make it enjoyable for y’all 🥰 it’s sooo important to me that I write what makes me happy

OUTTAKE 5 WAS POSTED HOURS BEFORE THIS ONE SO CHECK IT !

‼️THIS IS THE 10TH PART IN A SERIES READ THE OTHER PARTS BEFORE THIS ONE: ‼️

TABLE OF CONTENTS

———————————

Hours After You Noticed Aone For The First Time And Had Lunch Together! 🤫🥩

With a very discreet bounce in his step, Aone Takanobu walked into the Date Tech boys volleyball team changeroom after exchanging numbers with you after school.

“AONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Upon entrance, the entire team jumped him, tackling him to the ground while shouting praise and acclamations of joy loudly!

Aone was actually grinning, shoving the boys off of him to pretend that he was annoyed.

But anyone could tell that this mountain man was on cloud 9!!!!

Futakuchi reached out his hand to help Aone up and the mountain man took it. They shared a look that only Aone knew meant his best friend was happy for him. Proud of him.

Actually, Kenji’s look was one of happiness and pride, yes, but it was also full of nerves for his friend’s potential heartbreak. But Aone was too overjoyed inside to pick up on that.

“So Y/N finally knows your name!” Koganegawa yelled as he jumped on Aone’s back.

Shrugging the big boned setter off, Aone blushed. He has never been happier in his entire life and it was kind of embarrassing that the whole team knew why that was.

“I’m very happy.” Aone nodded at his team who smiled brilliantly back at him. “But please, do not get your hopes up. I’m trying with everything in me not to get mine up, in case Y/N decides she doesn’t like me. She and I are just going to start talking for now. And for that I am grateful.” Stomach in knots, Aone bowed to his team in thanks for all the encouragement and praise.

“But Aone-senpai, Y/N asked you to lunch! We all watched you guys, she looked ecstatic talking to you and she even glared at these other girls in the hallway because they were checking you out!”

Aone’s heart dropped. “She did?”

Kenji smiled, patting him on the back. “Saw it with my own eyes too, big guy.”

Aone felt like he was so happy he could sing, but he knew how odd that would look coming from such a big and serious guy like himself.

“Oh. Well... that’s quite nice.”

What a turn of events! This morning, Aone was going through another day with a heavy heart because the love of his life would never like him back. Then, it only took him defending you against the class snitch for everything to change......

✏️ Earlier That Day ✏️

Aone was sitting in class like any other day, doing his work, listening to the teacher intermittently and your daily conversation with your friends. The teacher excused himself to run a club errand for 20 minutes, trusting the class to stay quiet and complete their homework. Like most typical high school classes, the volume raised as soon as the teacher stepped out. Aone glanced over at your talkative self for the 15th time that period and noticed how much you were glowing because your team had returned last night placing second at Regionals. You looked radiant, absolutely stunning with your brighter smile and louder angelic laugh.

In Mountain Man’s daydream, he imagined telling you that you looked beautiful today followed by a congratulations for placing second. You would rush over to him and kiss him in thanks then start ripping his clothes off so that you could—

“Y/N! I am sick and tired of you and the rest of the popular kids not listening to the teachers instructions! What part of ‘stay quiet’ is hard to understand in that pea brain of yours!?!??!”

To Aone’s left, sitting in his row, he looked for the yelling voice. It was who everyone (except Aone) called ‘the class snitch’ and school mascot: Tsume Lian.

Also known as Y/N’s arch nemesis.

Seating looks like:

Y/N glared at him.

“Tsume, no one was talking to you.”

“I know that, dork!” He fumed. “BECAUSE WE ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE TALKING! I’m trying to do my homework as asked, and you and the popular crowd just ignore everything the teacher says and it’s disgusting! I’m tired of it! I want you expelled!”

Aone noticed Y/N’s startled expression at the prospect of being expelled, because he knew from overhearing your conversations that your parents were this close to sending you to Seijoh to get your grades up and live on campus there. According to your gossip last week, if you failed another class or got another complaint from a teacher then your parents would under no circumstances allow you to cheer again.

Aone clenched his fists tightly around his pencil because he couldn’t stand the idea of seeing Motomu or Kindaichi drooling over you at his enemy school.

One of Y/N’s friends who Aone knew as Kusa, spoke up in defence of Y/N. “Oh shut it, Tsume. Us chatting isn’t bothering anyone else.”

“I don’t care! You cheerleaders think you can do anything you want and that’s that!! YOU WILL face repercussions if I can help it!”

Kusa feigned fear. She turned her entire body toward him in her seat, meaning business. A bitch had time today.

The entire class gave this drama all of their undivided attention when they witnessed that move, ready for the show like:

“Oh yeah?! And why are you just snapping about this now, huh? Why not before?” Kusa snapped. You put a hand on your friends arm, silently trying to tell her he isn’t worth her energy.

“Because I realized just how selfish, inconsiderate, and deplorable you good-looking, popular women are! You don’t deserve to be bowed down to like I thought! You should be treated like everybody else!”

“What are you talking about?” Y/N interjected. “No one treats us like that. Even if they did, we don’t ask them to nor do we ask to be popular and we especially don’t ask for special treatment, Lian. Why are you so mad??? Get your life.”

COLLECT HIMMMMMM 👏🏾👏🏾

Aone smirked to himself. In all his years of crushing on you he has never seen you look so fierce and he too put his pencil down to enjoy what was a different and fiery side of his crush. It made him want to fuck the shit out of you, you looked so sexy. Aone found he liked every side of you.

“I did have a life. I was a mascot and—“

“—And you were spending too much time looking up our SKIRTS instead of hyping up a CROWD, making the first years uncomfortable and borderline stalking Y/N so badly she asked that we terminate you! You are lucky she kept that to herself for so long! 🤬 And THAT’S why you’re mad!”

The class collectively gasped. Some whipped their phones out to snapchat the gossip. Aone widened his eyes in silence, since he was in between, he was looking back and forth at the fight like a tennis match.

Hahahaha 🎾

Live footage of the classes reaction when Kusa READ TSUME FOR FILTH:

Tsume went red with anger, but anyone could tell that he was guilty guilty guilty !!!!

“When the teacher returns, I’m telling him and the principal the truth that you Y/N are a bully and you constantly disrupt the class! Who do you think they’re going to believe?! Their best student? Or their worst?! Say hi to AobaJohsai summer school for me!”

You frowned, scared out of your mind because Lian was right. The teacher’s believed everything he had to say and ever since you exposed him for sending you creepy messages and inappropriate pictures from a fake account that you knew was his, the class snitch has had it out for you. Even if the cheerleaders had your back, your parents would just think they are trying to protect you and never believe it! Tsume Lian was smart and dead set on planning your demise. It was unfair. You wanted to cry. Kusa whispered something to you in encouragement but you could feel the back of your eyes warming due to impending tears.

Meanwhile, with Mountain Man - Today was a day of firsts in his ‘Crushing on Y/N’ book. It was the first time he’s ever seen you glowing because of the Regional results, it was the first time he’s ever seen you so sassy, and now............. Aone notes that today is also the first time he’s ever seen you on the verge of tears before.

Unlike your glowing and your sassiness, Aone decided that he hated the last first more than anything in the world.

It consumed his emotions, how badly he didn’t want to see you cry.

“You really are slimy, Tsume. Wait until Katana hears this.” Kusa spat, rubbing her hand up and down Y/N’s back to soothe you as you willed your tears not to fall.

Seeing you so sad, Aone’s heart clenched.

He knew what it was like to be hurting but he never ever wanted that for you—not ever.

“Hey Y/N-chan, why don’t you show me that video your mom got of our reaction to us placing second yesterday?? I’d love to see it.” Kusa has accurately distracted you because she texted Katana what was happening and Katana knew just what to do until she got there.

You smiled, thinking about the overwhelming happiness from yesterday when your team placed second. You whipped out your phone and showed Kusa, smiling and giggling in a matter of seconds as it played.

Aone was glad you seemed good.

He turned to look at Tsume, who seemed to be raging inside. Shooting daggers at the two cheerleaders because they weren’t crumbling under his threats. They were laughing, in fact. Ignoring him as if he didn’t matter. Aone could tell Tsume was a ticking time bomb with how mad he was. His anger toward you looked severely unhealthy.

You let out a rather amusing laugh with Kusa as you two pointed to your screen and Aone’s heart skipped a beat because he loved that laugh so much. God, he is so fucking whipped.

When you laughed like that though, it sent perverted-snitch Tsume over the edge, bubbling over in anger like a piping hot kettle.

Aone watched him with studious eyes as Tsume took a deep breath to say something else that Aone was sure would stop your harmonious laughter that he adored......

“Y/N—“ Tsume started, but without warning, THE AONE TAKANOBU, DATE TECH MIDDLE BLOCKER, OUR MOUNTAIN MAN, interrupted him! Stopping all speech in the class with his simple, deep-voiced command:

“Leave her be. She’s having fun.”

The class:

The class went silent because they’d never really heard Aone’s voice before. :S

Still riled up, the class snitch took one look beside him (he was too distracted before) as to locate the voice. Once his eyes set on the verrrry muscular and verrrry mountainous man sitting between him and Y/N, he decided it would be smart to not be riled up anymore. A drop of sweat leaving his hairline, Lian scanned Aone’s gigantic body with his eyes, seeing that the volleyball player just barely fit in his desk—he gulped.

Aone had a relaxed expression, meaning to say what he said nonchalantly, but one needs to remember that Aone’s relaxed expression looks like this:

Needless to say, the ex-mascot almost pissed himself.

Is that Y/N’s b-b-boyfriend now? Tsume wondered to himself in panic as several more drops of sweat ran down his face.

“O-o-ok-o-o-oka-okay-y....” Tsume stuttered out as he turned back to his school work.

Five minutes later when the teacher came in, Tsume had nothing to say. He only had a sweat damped stack of homework to give him before he fled, not waiting for the bell of dismissal.

Did I frightened him? Aone thought.

He didn’t mean to. Sincerely. He was as gentle as giants come (except in bed if you rile him up enough or when someone is bothering you).

The class went back to normal and Aone continued working too.

But one person didn’t—no, couldn’t go back to normal:

You.

You sat in your seat still slack jawed because someone you didn’t know came to your rescue and quite possibly single handedly stopped your expulsion. How have you not noticed him before?! He is gorgeous!

Tall, muscular, handsome. Shiny white hair, beautiful lips. And he came to your defence.

In your opinion , he was a FINEASS mountain man! 🏔🤤

Yes ma’am!!!!

Anyway, while everyone was talking, working and minding their own business—including Aone—you slid out of your desk and bounced over to his happily.

“Hi! Thanks so much for defending me a little while ago!”

Bitch, this was you: ☺️😊😄

lost ass

Aone raised his head to look at you, jumping back slightly because he never even heard you approach. He stared up at you with a heart that stopped beating, absolutely speechless.

WHAT IS HAPPENING? He thought. YOU WERE TALKING................TO HIM? You were NOTICING..............HIM?!

😱😳🤯

You reached over to touch the handsome giant’s arm in his sweater, smiling at him endearingly.

“I’m Y/N! It’s nice to meet you!”

yeah you lost af, bitch 😐

Aone wanted to say something, he did. But he was just too shocked that the girl he thinks about nonstop, the girl he wishes was his, the girl he just had a wet dream about last night, was talking to him and only him for the first time.

Unexpectedly!

Takanobu always thought you two would first speak because of Futakuchi or the teacher but not because of him.

Aone couldn’t fathom the fact that HE made this happen! HE was the reason you were over here!

Aone: 🤯🤯🤯

It was ALL. TOO. MUCH.

He couldn’t speak.

You removed your hand from his arm, silently chastising yourself because you shouldn’t touch people without permission.

Not that Aone minded. That boy would want you to touch him anywhere, on anyday, at anytime that pleased you.

“Sorry.” You looked down shyly, then met his serious expression again, wanting to be sure he knew how grateful you were for his help.

“Um.... you probably don’t know this but you getting that pervert to leave me alone is quite possibly the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. And you did it for a stranger like me, no less.”

A/N: RUB IT IN THAT YOU DONT KNOW THE MAN MORE, WHY DONT YOU ?! 🤬

You tucked your hair behind you ear while holding his gaze. Aone could only nod because his throat was dry. You looked so incredibly perfect up-close and he wanted to make sure he remembered this. He just couldn’t speak.

Feeling a little awkward now because you just tried starting a conversation with this FINEASS classmate of yours to only get a nod in return, you laughed timidly.

“Okay, well I guess I’ll...” you turned on your heels so you could make your way back to your desk with your L. “....see you later.” You finished, telling him over your shoulder.

Much like when he defended you against Tsume, Aone didn’t know what came over him then: maybe it was all the memories of him feeling heartbroken that you’d never notice him or return his feelings—maybe it was the promise he made that he would do something toward pursuing you if you would just notice him first—or maybe is was because his best friend Kenji would have his HEAD if Aone told him he let you walk away right now without trying....... after TWO YEARS.........that compelled him to respond to your “see you later” bravely, FINALLY UTTERING WORDS TO YOU FOR THE FIRST TIME IN HIS ENTIRE LIFE:

“When?”

^Asked Aone, just as you were walking away from him.

You stilled, feeling excitement in your body because he answered. You spun around and jumped back in front of his desk. You gave him a questioning look.

You responded, “When, what?”

Even though he was melting under your attention, Aone couldn’t give up now. He had to shoot his shot. This may be his only chance.

“When is later?” He elaborated.

Huh? You thought.

You blinked at the stunning classmate. What is he—OH, does he mean.....

“As in...when will I see you again?”

Aone nodded at you, holding his breath.

You massaged your chin, thinking 🤔.

You can admit you wanted to know more about this gorgeous man who came to your rescue. There was something about him that made you feel safe and warm. You couldn’t quite place it. You’ve never wanted to spend time with anyone outside of cheerleading more than this guy—so you owed it to yourself to explore that small feeling, right?

“Okay. Well, how about now? Lunch is after this period. Would you want to have it with me?!” You asked cheerily.

Though he didn’t show it, inside, fireworks went off in Aone’s mind, heart, and stomach...!

Actual footage:

Aone nodded quickly. Way too quickly for someone who did not want to come across as the most eager beaver in the world.

But he was...... and you noticed. It made you smile.

“Okay. So when the bell rings you can walk me to my locker and I’ll put away my stuff, then we’ll go to yours....then we can go head to lunch together. Sound good?”

Aone nodded quickly again!

You gave him the big smile that made him become a simp for you in the first place and you took your seat again.

Takanobu was so excited he literally almost stood up to spin the hand clock that hung up beside the door himself so that time could go by faster. He couldn’t even move to text Kenji because he knew his hands would shake.

He just sat there, his mind whirling mad until the bell finally rang. You said bye to Kusa and watched as this blonde hottie stood up from his seat, towering over you.

God, he was so freaking HOT! You wanted to jump him.

At the same time students filed out of the class, Aone turned to you as he collected his things then slung his bag over his shoulder.

“May I carry your books for you, Y/N?” Mountain man asked sheepishly in his stern voice.

Your heart fluttered by how cute and sweet he was to ask!

“Umm, sure! Thank you so much!” You smiled and handed your heavy books over.

You two walked beside eachother and Aone held the door open for you. You didn’t know why he was being so nice but you couldn’t lie that you felt very charmed.

“Y/N.”

You looked up at the handsome giant with curious eyes after he called your name.

“My name is Aone Takanobu by the way. You introduced yourself before, but I did not answer. I’m sorry. Either way, I knew who you were already. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Your smiled widened as you bounced on your feet while walking. “Very nice to meet you too, Aone Takanobu. I’ve actually heard of you before.”

Aone’s eyes lit up like 👀

“Wait r-really?”

Omg precious bby 🥺🥺🥺

“Yes. At a cheerleading sleepover. All good things, don’t worry. It’s just funny because I said that night how hopefully I’ll meet you and now here we are!”

Aone chuckled as he held open another door for you. When he did and you two walked down another hall, he caught sight of two very conspicuous volleyball players (one looked eerily like Justin Bieber, the other looked big boned) hugging eachother and slumping down to the ground at the sight of you and Aone. Aone rolled his eyes, thinking that they were lucky you never noticed your surroundings.

“Here we are.” Aone repeated, shooting a secret thumbs up at his friends who were on the verge of crying.

***

Nearing the end of an enjoyable lunch for both of you where you spoke a lot and Aone listened with heart eyes: he pulled your chair out for you, he was responding, he was chuckling, and overall hanging onto your every word, never wanting your time together to end. You became rather smitten.

***

“The bell is gonna ring soon, Aone. I just want to thank you again for buying my lunch and spending this time with me! I know it was super random!”

Aone got lost in your eyes as you said his name, because he’s never taken a moment to analyze how nice it could sound if it was caressed by your voice. Also, he’s never heard his name said by someone so beautiful (when it wasn’t being said in a question). He was BATHING in joy.

Although Aone didn’t answer and he’s maintained his stoic expression the entire lunch, deep down you felt that this man had a thing for you. He was very intense so it was quite obvious. But since you enjoyed the lunch so much and you were starting to have a thing for him, too, you wanted to confirm:

“Also, Aone-san, I’m happy to know that you can say more than 4 words 😲! I asked my friend earlier and she said you basically never speak.” You exclaimed, fishing.

Aone smirked, feeling the need to defend himself on that front. “It is true that that is the consensus of the majority of people who come in contact with me. However, that is because there exists few people, that I feel inclined to speak to.”

Hook, line, and sinker. Your eyes twinkled at his words. He looked like a jock but sounded so eloquent! You loved it:

“Oh wow well you spoke a lot to me today so I guess I must be a little special then, huh.......?” You twirled your hair around your index finger as you asked, causing Aone to almost drool.

listen, you...kind of..... wanted mountain man.

And you were only flirting minimally okay.....minimally, so don’t judge

You just wanted to know if your suspicions were right that he had a little crush on you or if he saw you as a friend

Aone looked down at you, thinking of a way to respond to you asking if you were special to him.

A/N: 😣🤞🏾AONE DONT CREEPY 😣🤞🏾DONT BE CREEPY 😣🤞🏾DON’T BE CREEPY 😣🤞🏾

“This is our first time speaking. So I am not entirely sure if you’re special yet...” He started.

You quirked your eyebrow attractively, anticipating how he would end that sentence.

“...But I hope that even after this lunch ends I can take you out again a few more times, Y/N-chan—somewhere nice and off-campus, perhaps—so that I can truly decipher whether you are or not.”

You quirked your eyebrow even higher, impressed by the smooth way he told you he wants to keep seeing you!

WELL SIS HES ONLY HAD 2 YEARS OF PRACTICE I MEAN—

“I’d love to.” You accepted, making Aone smile.

He was absolutely stunning when he smiled, it was almost unfair.

The bell rang.

“Mind walking me back to my locker, Aone?”

Aone stood on internally shaky legs that he willed to be normal. “Of course.” He took both yours and his tray and dumped it out before escorting you out of the cafeteria.

✏️ Back in the Locker Room ✏️

“We are happy for you, Aone.” Kenji patted his large friend on the back.

“I had your voice in the back of my mind, Kenji-san. I owe this happiness to you and your support. I know you’re worried that I’ll get my heart broken and be crushed but I’m thankful for you supporting me anyway. You will forever be my brother.”

———————————

Taglist: @crushzone @galagcica

Outtake #7: CLICK HERE

THE VOTE! ☑️

Upcoming outtakes (NSFW):

Losty Aone answering Kenji’s call while you’re having sex. He told you to please wait but...um....no. Hang up, buddy 😈

When you tease poor Losty Aone during class and make him want to f*ck you hard

You telling Aone that you’re horny before his game knowing you’d be cheering next to him the whole time being suggestive

Sending Aone a nude for the first time

First Kiss (In which Aone gets his first urge)

Discovering Aone’s ear kissing kink

Upcoming Fluff outtakes:

Aone on your first birthday as a couple

The official confession

Aone Embarrassingly telling Y/N about the things he did when he was crushing on you :/ (cupcake, donation, wet dreams, hoping to be your tutor, etc!)

When Aone fills in at one of your cheer practices!

Aone having to save you from your annoying admirers

Send me an ask/message/comment below with the number(s) of the outtake you really want me to write and the ones with votes will be done

Say “Losty Aone Story nsfw number ___” or “Losty Aone Story fluff number ___”

102 notes · View notes

terreisa · 4 years ago

Text

Love Down the Line

The last thing Indie musician Emma Swan needs is a gigantic wrench thrown in the workings of her biggest tour to date weeks before its launch. When her backing guitarist that caused the problem says she has the perfect solution Emma is skeptical but left with little choice but to accept. Unfortunately she isn't really prepared for said solution to be former Rock Star and leading man of Emma's teenage fantasies, Killian Jones. With no other options and a month of performing across the country ahead of her Emma just hopes she doesn't come to regret letting Killian onto her stage and into her life.

AO3

~*CS*~

Storybrooke, Maine- April 8th

The buzzing phone on the table in front of Emma Swan was a distraction she didn’t need. There were a million and one things that needed to be done and only one month to do them before her tour started. She swiped to answer it without looking, too caught up in what she was doing to bother.

“Yeah?” She asked impatiently, absently brushing the tendrils of her long blonde hair out of her face.

“I have good news and I have shit news.”

Emma sighed, albeit quietly. It was Ruby, one of her closest friends and the rhythm guitarist for her backing band who also had a flair for the dramatic. She only hoped that whatever it was Ruby was calling about wouldn’t turn into a two hour conversation over something they could easily discuss when she didn’t have time sensitive decisions to make. Preferably in a month when they were finally on the tour bus and had nothing but time to kill between cities.

“If it’s about going on that second date with Dorothy that I already talked you into once can it wait? I’m trying to finalize this set list so I can send it to Regina so she can send it to the lighting guys and the sound guys and we can stop fucking around at rehearsals and get things going almost smoothly.”

“Um, yeah… I mean, it’s not entirely about my date with Dorothy,” Ruby said with what sounded like trepidation.

Suspicion and dread immediately filled Emma’s veins. Ruby was anything but hesitant when it came to sharing information. She’d once announced at a club they were playing that she was on her period and would only accept phone numbers that were written on the outside wrapper of a chocolate bar. By the time they made it back to their motel she had a mound of candy that would have made Augustus Gloop jealous.

“What’s the good news?”

“Nah, you’ll want the shitty news first,” Ruby hummed with a grin in her voice, her confidence restored.

She groaned, “When have I ever wanted the shitty news first?”

“Never, but this time the good news won’t make sense without it-” Ruby took in a deep breath, loud enough for Emma to hear over the connection and it set her back on edge. “Okay, so I was on that second date with Dorothy and it was going great. Like, really great. She’s amazing and funny and surprising. We went to a paintball place. Paintball, me!”

“Ruby-”

“And it was actually fun. You know I’m more of a heels and cocktails kinda gal but I was getting into it-”

“Ruby-”

“Something about the adrenaline maybe or possibly the weird power trip of having a fake weapon to stalk your prey. Though that makes me sound like I’m about to go play the most dangerous game or something-”

“RUBY! The shitty news!”

“Oh, right,” Ruby had the decency to sound abashed but it did nothing to alleviate the pounding that had started in Emma’s head. “So paintball, fun and exciting and I may have broken my arm.”

Emma suddenly felt faint, “What?”

“In two places,” Ruby continued, sounding almost proud of herself. “Plus there’s some stitches and a bunch of Bandaids involved but you probably don’t care about those.”

“How long?” She winced at her harsh question, knowing she sounded uncaring. She backtracked, “No, fuck, wait, are you okay? That should have been my first question.”

Ruby laughed, “Don’t worry, after all these years I know where your priorities lie. I’m fine, they’ve got me on the good stuff here.”

“Wait, are you still at the hospital?” Emma stood up, ready to jump into whatever action was needed.

“Yup, they’ve still got to set the bones and wrap it up like the world’s worst present but like I said: the good stuff.”

“Alright, I’m on my way,” Emma dashed to her room and frantically tried to find a matching pair of shoes in the piles of crap strewn across the floor. “Do you need anything? A change of clothes? Are they keeping you there overnight? Want me to stop by Granny’s? Should I call Granny?”

“Whoa, Emma, slow down,” Ruby said, laughing again. “Dorothy called Granny when we were on our way to the hospital. She’s already here and glaring at anyone in a white coat that walks by my little curtained area. It should only be an hour or so then it’s home to rest. You can come over with pizza and I’ll bore you to death then with all the little details of my date.”

“Okay,” she breathed, dropping down onto her bed with a tennis shoe in one hand. “Pizza. I can do that.”

“Good. It’s six weeks by the way,” Ruby said offhandedly.

“Six weeks,” she repeated, confused by the non-sequitur.

“Recovery time. At least six weeks.”

The shoe dropped out of her hand, “Six weeks.”

“And then a few weeks of physical therapy,” Ruby continued. “So, more like two months give or take.”

“Ruby,” she said weakly. “The tour starts in a month. There’s no time to audition a replacement and have them learn the songs and what if they don’t get along with us or, fuck, what if they have a massive ego or-”

“Emma, stop.” Ruby said calmly. “This is where the good news comes in.”

“Good news? How can there be good news?”

“I told you there would be,” Ruby tsked, “Here it is. I already have a replacement ready! He knows most of the songs you’ve been picking, has a shit ton of experience on the road and playing the type of venues we’ve got booked, and best of all he’s available to start as soon as you tell me yes.”

Ruby’s words had started to slow but her excitement was still palpable. Emma on the other hand felt nothing but dread settling in her stomach. Ever since she’d started doing the music thing seriously Ruby had been a part of the band playing behind her. The seedy bars with tiny stages, the slightly better clubs with slightly worse sound systems, the places that could actually be called venues that held more than a hundred people and then bigger and bigger until she was finally selling out places that easily sat four or five thousand people. She’d been there for everything, had seen everything, knew everything and her not being able to be there for any part of it was starting to cause Emma’s vision to go slightly grey at the edges.

“I need to call Regina,” she gasped, trying to draw in a deep breath, “We can cancel the first few weeks or reschedule them.”

“Emma-”

“I’ll say I have bronchitis or those polyp things on my vocal chords. Or I can do the shows acoustic-”

“Emma, if you’d just-

“But then I’ll have to figure out how to pay Will and Tink-”

“Or you could just give this guy a chance, maybe?” Ruby said sharply and a bit pointedly. “I’m not letting you sabotage the biggest fucking thing to happen to you because I can’t play for a few weeks. The fans don’t care who’s in the backing band, they’re paying to see you.”

“Then they won’t mind an acoustic show, will they?” Emma snapped back.

“No, but it’s also not what you’ve been teasing on Instagram for the past few months. Not to mention all the techies and roadies that have already been hired that will be fired because they’ll be deemed unnecessary. Plus isn’t it in your contract with the label that any major changes to the tour had to be approved by them? I can tell you right now they won’t approve of anything this close to the start date.”

Emma hated that Ruby was right but couldn’t help one last argument, “And replacing you with some rando off the street isn’t a major change?”

“First off: the label cares even less about who’s in the backing band then the fans do. As long as we make you sound good and don’t upstage you they’re happy,” Ruby said flippantly. “Second: Jones isn’t some rando, he’s actually a session guitarist and has played on a few songs on your last two albums. Third: This is your best option and you know it.”

“I don’t know it,” she grumbled, “He could still be a problem, you know, personality wise or whatever.”

“Okay, sure,” Ruby conceded, “but you won’t know unless you give him a chance. So will you? Give him a chance?”

“Ugh, fine, but if he sucks I’m definitely writing a song called ‘I fucking told you so’.”

“And if he doesn’t I get to write it and you’ll have to play the terrible result at the final show,” Ruby said gleefully.

“I hate you,” Emma sighed, falling back so she was laying across the width of her bed.

“No you don’t,” Ruby paused and Emma could hear murmuring in the background. “Hey, the doctor’s back and they’re ready to get my bones a crackin’. You can complain about it more tonight. Meat lovers supreme, extra large, and bring those cinnamon sticky things too!”

Ruby hung up before Emma could utter a sound. She chuckled to herself before the reality of the situation sunk back in. For Ruby’s sake she’d give the Jones guy a chance but she had little faith that it would work out as easily as Ruby had made it sound. Nothing had ever worked out easily for her before, no use in getting her hopes up again.

#captain swan #captain swan fanfiction #ouat ff #cs ff #my writing

33 notes · View notes

g0dspeeed · 4 years ago

Text

Unconditional Positive Regard, 5

I’m thinking of not posting fic updates anymore on here, but I will be updating this Smasher/OC fic on ao3!

=========================================

Assessment

A faint whisper.

Soft.

Barely there.

The only noise in the Arasaka gym facility was its overhead air vent, but Adam felt absolutely annoyed by it all the same.

Silent and brooding, the mercenary stood in the middle of the gym mats with arms crossed and his red eyes staring heavily on the entrance. No doubt he was ready to lay into her, practically frothing for Lumen to feel how intensely pissed off he was at her lateness, at how she kept him waiting around like a fool.

Even before his days in the military, Adam was punctual. Or incredibly early. Had to be. As a hardened resident of NYC’s underworld, he could never predict what mob boss would lose his absolute shit over Adam’s ass being late, job fulfilled or not. Such a life seldom provided a second chance, and after watching many a comrade receive their due punishment for inconveniencing some trigger-hungry gang leader, Adam knew better than to press his luck. Though tucked back several decades into his past, the lessons learned in the streets of New York prepared him well in all their cruelty.

Other Arasaka staff wandered near the mats, completely oblivious to Adam until their eyes locked. Without a word, the staff members scurried out of sight.

A growl hummed past his lips. He checked the digital clock above the room for the sixth time in the last ten minutes. His jaw tightened.

Damn her.

Damn that fucking bitch and her bullshit contract.

Just as Adam was about to rip into her via holo, the rushed sounds of pattering feet echoed into the space. Lumen at last made her appearance, jogging through the entrance dressed in a grey tank top, black leggings, and tennis shoes. If anything, she looked prepared for Adam’s physical assessment.

Though her focus, Adam quickly observed, was clearly elsewhere.

As if not even noticing him, Lumen had tossed a small gym bag at the edge of the mats and quickly made work of her dark hair, her fingers running themselves frantically through its tangles in a vain effort to tie them back. Stray hairs stuck to the sticky sheen on her forehead as she struggled to compose herself.

Adam caught Lumen peeking over her shoulder near the entrance, gold eyes wide with anticipation.

Alit brilliant red, his own eyes shined as Adam conducted a quick scan of her vitals. Just as expected, the results read all racing pulse and rising body heat.

He frowned.

The woman was scared.

That force of rage soothed into a dull static. Still pissed? Absolutely, but his curiosity for her anxious state outweighed the anger, especially since the woman at this point seemed unable to experience anything resembling fear. She had stood brave in the face of his wrath before, multiple times even. Not budging, not wavering despite his powerful presence, despite the tight grip he had on her arm in the office.

If not terrified of him, Adam Smasher, what the hell could cause her to be so flustered?

Adam waited as she at last noticed him watching her, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

“I’m late,” Lumen stated sheepishly. “I know that.”

Eyes narrowing, Adam didn’t grace her with a response.

A sigh.

“It won’t happen again,” she continued. “I promise.”

He wholly expected a flood of excuses, but Lumen offered not a single one. Instead, she casually approached him, giving one final look over her shoulder towards the opening of the gym.

“Expecting someone?” he questioned.

She turned away.

“Hm?”

At that, Adam snapped.

“You’re not a stupid bitch so stop fucking acting like one!”

Lumen flinched at the sudden harshness in his voice, at how he somehow managed to make himself larger as he loomed over her frozen form.

However, much to Adam’s annoyance, she then squared her shoulders. In a showing of grace, Lumen chose to maintain her ignorance.

“It’s nothing,” she quipped. “Let’s just get started, yeah?”

A tense pause filled the air while the pair refused to break eye contact with one another, too stubborn and too prideful to back down first.

Adam rolled his eyes. So be it. He didn’t really give a fuck anyway. Temper steaming, he conceded, allowing the moment to pass so they could finally start his assessment.

“Stretch,” he ordered. “Then I’ll give you some exercises-”

“What kind?”

“Physical ones,” he replied sharply. “Just do what I fucking tell you. You’ve already wasted enough of my time tonight.”

It was then did she truly regard him. Amusement soon touched her features as she scrutinized his attire. Gone was his large Arasaka jacket, replaced with a gray tank of his own that clung to his large frame. More of his implants could be seen under the bright lights of the gym, and without the jacket’s neck guard Lumen was able to appraise the thick, black cables that snaked down his neck and shoulders, as well as the sharp jawline from the implant on his chin. He still wore his black cargo pants and military-grade boots, but seeing more of his broad shoulders and some RealSkin was a nice change for the good doctor. In a strange way the look humanized him.

“Gawk at me all you want,” stated Adam. “But don’t start anything you can’t finish, sweetheart.”

Her lips twisted into a scowl, but Lumen began stretching as he had told her to. Adam felt pleased at her obedience, eyes lingering on her body as she bent over to tap the mats. Her toned physique curved deliciously at her hips, ass, and breasts, and he blatantly allowed himself an eye full.

Denial served him no good. Adam knew that he was physically attracted to the woman. Knew since they first met in the lobby, her beauty and confidence stalling him in his tracks. Always more drawn to the feminine figure, Lumen’s body lacked any qualities that suggested any weakness. Her legs were lined with muscle, arms, too, showing evidence of some athleticism.

How unfortunate that she was the client, he thought. Might’ve be fun to-

“You good?”

Gold eyes pierced him like knives as her hands gripped her shins.

Adam smirked. No guilt filled him. No shame forced his eyes to avert. Instead, he held her stare in a welcomed challenge.

“Never better,” he responded.

Lumen scoffed.

“To start,” continued Adam. “I need to know what implants you’re outfitted with.”

The annoyance on her face melted away into a blank stare.

“Just my eyes,” she answered. “Kiroshis-”

“I’m not stupid. No one has eyes like yours.”

That last comment spilled out of him before he could stop it. Another pause followed. Adam pushed through the awkwardness, ignoring her quirked brow.

“What other cyberware?”

Her shoulders rose.

“That’s it. I don’t have-”

“There’s no use lying to me-”

“I know. I’m telling the truth. I don’t have anything else.”

His teeth grit.

Of course.

Of course that’s all she had.

His latest security job is an organic meatbag with a savior complex, and his future career with one of the leading corporations in Night City is hinging on her survival.

Lumen frowned as if sensing his disapproval, but he asked nothing more. Instead, Adam led her to an indoor track in the facility and commanded she run a mile. The woman did as she was asked, again stirring a sense of pleasure in the mercenary as he openly lusted at her body while she bounded away.

Meatbag or not, Adam planned to push her. To break her in. To see what she looked like when she crumbled, when her body gave out. To see how she handled pain. Eyes lingered on her ass as she lapped him, his mind forcibly ignoring how his body twitched.

The evening drawled on in a slower pace than what Adam preferred. True, Lumen did all that he asked when it came to assessing her physical prowess. She ran, lifted, pushed, pulled, twisted, and carried whatever weight, time, or distance that Adam commanded. She scored high in each test, even as patches of sweat darkened her top. Her stats mildly impressed him though he would never admit that. It was a small relief that he wouldn’t have to drag her ass through the field as he might the lazy corpos from past security details, their bodies clammy and panting from mild exercise. Though her body was strong, her understanding about defense tactics was certainly not. That’s what made time drag on, the hours stretching with each new technique and modeling of skill. Each drill was met with more questions and coupled with Lumen’s furrowed brow as she tried to learn proper stance and follow-through. She stumbled. She forgot where her hands were supposed to rest. He had to repeat himself, sometimes three or four times until she got it right. To be fair, her opponent stood more than a foot taller than her, his body broad, heavy, and hard. The average citizen of Night City wouldn’t have the same build, but Adam saw value in testing her all the same. No complaints left Lumen, though as time pressed on, Adam could sense her fatigue.

If asked, he would ignore any implications that he enjoyed testing her. The woman was surprisingly open and attentive to his teachings, even when bested by the merc or met with criticism. Adam caught her off guard multiple times to challenge her reflexes, shoulder checking or roughly shoving her back onto the cushioned mats. Frustration was evident whenever she made a mistake, usually in the form of a sharp exhale or her teeth worrying her bottom lip, but Lumen did not allow any self-pity. Instead, she quickly rose from the mat to try again. Such persistence and the true power he felt behind every blocked blow loosened Adam up. Perhaps he lingered in his holds a little longer than necessary. Perhaps he savored how his body was pressed against hers, the heady scent of her perfume and sweat intoxicating him. Maybe he enjoyed her shit-eating grin whenever she felt that she bested him. Or when he let her land some hits just to see her golden eyes light up in pride. Or Adam gave a short ‘good’ whenever she seemed to master a concept, the closest thing to praise that he ever gave anyone.

Denial served him no good. But he would deny to anyone watching them spar that night that he permitted himself a smile.

For his own amusement, Adam dodged her attempt to strike him in the face, side stepping and immediately wrapping an arm around her waist. A shriek escaped Lumen as he lifted her from the floor with ease and tossed her a few yards away, her body landing hard on the mats and rolling before she settled with a groan.

“Again,” Adam repeated for likely the hundredth time.

When Lumen spoke, her face was still turned away, muffled and listless.

“Does this gym not have a closing time-”

“No.”

A heavy breath left her, her body deflating from exhaustion.

“We’ve been doing this for like, six hours, Adam. I think I’m done for the day.”

“You’ll be done when I say you’re done. Get up-”

“Nah.”

She heard his steps and could practically feel the challenge rolling off of him in waves.

“I know that your little assessment is over,” she chided with the same amount of liveliness. “Safe to say that you like tossing me around.”

A sneer spread across Adam’s lips.

“Maybe I do,” he agreed. “Or I just like the view of you on your back.”

A laugh. Weak, but genuine all the same.

“Preem. Glad to know I’m not losing my mind.”

Rolling over, Lumen dared to look into his red eyes. Never got old, the way her eyes shined. The directness set him back.

“Did I pass?” she asked. “Are you willing to babysit me now?”

“Willing? Never.”

Her eyes rolled.

“But do I pass?”

“It’ll take years before you’re passable, but for one day a week I guess it’ll do.”

Lumen chuckled as she pulled herself to her feet. Every muscle and joint ached at the effort, a silent scream retching from her body after all the work that he put her through. She knew that the intensity and duration was all unnecessary, but she chose to humor him all the same with how he conducted his assessment. Especially after catching how Adam watched her, glimmers of his suppressed amazement glowing each time Lumen completed an exercise well ahead of her expected time.

“Holy shit, it’s midnight,” she breathed.

Adam said not a word, choosing to watch her stretch and pack her things in silence. Lumen’s gray tank top was soaked all the way through, evidence of her labor practically dripping off her face. The woman was still standing after all the hell he pushed her through, even smiling to herself as she took off her tank and slipped on a windbreaker. Wasn’t shy, not one bit. His eyes drank her in, committing her curves to memory. Just below the band of her sports bra, Adam saw the beginning of a black tattoo.

“Are you above fraternizing?”

The words took a moment to register, his mind wondering more so about the hidden ink.

Lumen’s smile weakened, feeling the sting of rejection in his lack of response.

“Hey,” she tried again in a new, soft voice. The change snapped Adam back into focus, suspicion filling him immediately.

“I’m sorry about how I treated you back at my office,” continued the woman. “That last time, you know, with my client?”

Her tongue wet her lips.

“She’s just a child,” continued Lumen. “And, well, I guess tantrums match the level of body modifications? I don’t know. Anyway, it wasn’t right that I took out my frustration on you. You just tried to help, and I’m sorry that I was…”

And just like that, her warm smile and how deeply she looked into his eyes captivated him. He froze at her authenticity, at how brazen she was with her vulnerable emotions. A whim that Adam seldom allowed himself to have, lest it maintain a sense of control.

“I was a bitch,” she concluded. “And I’m sorry.”

Adam wasn’t quite sure what to do next. No one had really apologized to him before, not out of anything other than pure fear anyway, and he was so taken aback by the genuine sincerity of it all that he found himself staring off towards the far side of the gym to avoid the intimacy of her gaze.

“I don’t give a shit,” he stated coolly. “You’re just part of the agreement with Arasaka, a means to an end unfortunately. Even if you were being a total cunt.”

Hoping that she would do something predictable like maybe argue or insult him, Adam dared his eyes to venture back to the woman. Lumen appeared not to take offense at his latest label. She laughed heartily.

“I guess I was being a cunt,” she mused. “That’s fair.”

Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Lumen approached the door. She gave a small wave from over her shoulder. Adam was left speechless.

Before leaving the building himself, the merc took an elevator to one of the other lower floors. Too preoccupied by what occurred that evening, he nearly forgot to retrieve a finishing touch from the Weapons Department. He didn’t typically find much use for this particular item, the other contracts either not important enough or Adam not giving a shit either way, but in this case he thought it wise to play it safer rather than risk any unnecessary setbacks to his missions with Lumen. The check-out process was easy enough, especially with his level of clearance. Item in hand, Adam was lost in thought as he travelled down to the parking garage of Arasaka headquarters. The woman had asked him about fraternization.

Why?

To what end?

Did she expect him to want to have a drink with her? Dinner?

As if they were friendly?

As if he was interested in learning anything about her that didn’t have to do with their contract?

Enigmatic. That would be a great word to describe Lumen or at least one that satisfied Adam in that moment. Each time they met she surprised him. Each time she challenged his assumptions about how she’d respond, react, treat him, even in the face of an insult or threat. What bothered Adam more was how unbothered he was becoming to her defiance. He allowed her to roll her eyes, to argue, to bait him, to tease. Not once had he laid a hand on her with intent to harm. Unlike her colleague, Lumen walked away from their conversations unscathed, or more honestly, he felt the need to walk away from her due to how off kilter she made Adam feel with that smile and gentle touches of the hand. He shivered at the memory of her warmth, at how deeply she looked into his eyes with her palm pressed to his cheek. Couldn’t recall the last time someone held him like that, even if she was only doing it to distract him from his rage.

A scoff.

That’s the only reason she did such an intimate thing. To survive. To fend off her imminent demise at his hand. She must recognize how tentative her role is, that the moment Arasaka deemed their contact over all reserve and patience went out the window. That must be why he staved his anger, why he showed her such undeserved mercy even though she was such a festering pain in his ass.

And yet.

Preem. That’s what she had said with that classic smile. That’s what she said at their shared acknowledgment of his attraction to her.

Preem.

Almost flirtatious.

The elevator doors opened and let in the cool air of the parking garage. It smelled of oil and exhaust, coupled with the strong urban smells of the city street. Something about a city at night stirred within Adam a sense of belonging. Of home. Maybe it was the kind of people who roamed freely at night, who clubbed, drank, and drugged themselves to excess in primal escapism. The kind who found comfort in the shadows as he did, who took refuge in the lapse in reality that Night City’s underbelly provided.

He breathed it in to feel the taste on his tongue, already debating on how to spend one of his rare, free nights off.

Just as Adam was about to leave the garage, a far-off figure captured his attention.

She stood in heavy contemplation by the opening of the garage, her attention completely void of Adam’s presence. That plump bottom lip of hers were tugged in her teeth with her fingers also pinching the skin as she thought on, clearly weighing upon an important decision.

Adam frowned at seeing Lumen still lingering around the corporate building. Their time had concluded half an hour ago, yet there she was. Stance rigid, Adam took note in how uncomfortable she appeared, recalling how strangely she had entered the gym earlier in the night. He scanned her, not surprised to see her heart rate was elevated and breathing slightly labored.

Fear.

Textbook fear, but why?

Following her stare, Adam quickly understood.

Down the street stood a small group of young men. They stood huddled amongst each other near the hood of some beat up car, their scrappy clothes alit by streetlight. They smoked and talked to one another in hushed voices, but even in their best efforts to appear nonchalant, Adam was aware at how each one would periodically stare in Lumen’s direction. Eyes hooded and with a hint of a smile, one man even nodded towards her. Lumen flinched.

No one was aware of Adam. No one knew he lingered in the shadows, how he was privy to all who were involved. How he had access to their bounties and criminal charges in seconds, how his temper blistered at seeing the nature of their offenses.

With a heavy hand, Adam reached out from the darkness and placed his palm on the base of her neck. Lumen jumped instantly, a scream catching in her throat.

“Do you know them?”

His voice was stern, though unreadable. Beneath his touch, he could feel her body relaxing, at how calm she became at hearing his voice.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she muttered. “Why the fuck would you do that-”

“Do you know those men?”

She swallowed.

“No.”

Adam stepped out from beneath the shadows of the parking garage, his grip still on the back of Lumen’s neck.

When he spoke again, his voice was louder and held a sort of lethality in its tone.

“Go home,” he commanded.

Before she could respond, his other hand left his side to reveal the item he took from the Weapons Department. She frowned in confusion as he held up a large white ring, the device clearly some form of modification. Without asking, Adam moved the device over her head and hung it around her neck.

“What is this?” asked Lumen.

“A Halo.”

Adam’s red eyes glowed an amber color, the device then chiming to life. Lumen felt a dull vibration coming from the ring as it activated and synced with the mercenary, her anxiety bubbling even more. It shined a bright white, the color illuminating her face in a faint glow. Adam gave her neck a squeeze.

“What, what does it do?” she asked him.

“Stops anyone from hacking in, even if its just your optics and processor. Tells me where you are at all times and any irregularities in your vitals. Also has a panic feature. Not that you’ll need it.”

That last part was said while Adam gave his coldest stare to the men on the opposite end of the street. He knew they could hear him, knew they recognized who he was, his name falling off their lips the moment he revealed himself. Adam reveled in how quickly they avoided his gaze, at how fast they scrambled.

Turning back to Lumen, he caught her letting out a sigh of relief.

“Go home,” he commanded again. “Turn this off when you get there.”

She nodded slowly.

Adam’s eyes lingered on her face a moment longer, taking in the redness of her cheeks and how quickly her pulse raced, his thumb feeling its drumming beneath his touch.

He let her go and turned down the sidewalk, not bothering to look at her again.

Just as Adam thought that he finally had the final word, a faint ‘thank you’ was whispered from behind.

#adam smasher #cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077

8 notes · View notes

i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend · 5 years ago

Text

Your Hand In Mine ~ Bucky x Reader Oneshot (Request)

A/n: Hi my lovelies! Happy weekend, I hope everyone is doing alright and staying healthy. So I received this request I think like two days after I announced my hiatus and it’s been sitting in my inbox since then. But it’s also been percolating in my brain since then and I’m finally happy with how it turned out. I hope you will enjoy it too.

Thanks for the request @ashhys-lost-in-fanfics-again

Request: Hi! I love your writing! I have a Bucky x Reader idea, iydm. R's a powerful Avenger. She has a RIGHT(important it's her right) metal arm. It's rose gold when it's not covered by her skin graft. Bucky is being teased by team&gets upset. He yells no one understands how hard the burden is and storms off. R goes after him to comfort, he turns on her, asking how she'd know? She gently disables her skin graft&shows her rose gold metal arm. Fluff & Angst please!

Characters/Pairings: Bucky x reader, Sam, Steve, Clint, Nat and Tony are mentioned.

Rating: T

WARNINGS: Trauma, loss of limb, mild language, angst, but there’s a lot of fluff too!

Disclaimer: My medical knowledge is limited to what I could glean from google so if there’s anything that doesn’t make sense I apologize.

Word Count: 4230

Bucky grunted as he attempted to reach the knot that had formed in his shoulder blade but no matter which way he twisted or turned he couldn’t get the right pressure. He gave up on using his flesh arm and went in search of a tennis ball or even better a softball.

After finally locating one in the equipment closet, Bucky found the nearest wall and set to work maneuvering the ball into position. He had just found the right spot when you and Sam entered the gym, chattering happily about the movie you’d seen the night before.

Your animated tone made Bucky smile.

“Morning, Bucky,” you greeted him cheerfully.

“Morning, y/n.”

“Turning into a cat, Barnes?” Sam called when he spotted him shimmying his back against the wall.

“Can it, birdbrain,” Bucky snapped, smile falling.

Grumbling about being interrupted when he’d finally started feeling relief, he pulled off the wall and pocketed the ball before storming out of the gym.

“Sam,” you sighed as you dropped your bag and began stretching.

“Don’t ‘Sam’ me. Last week he disconnected his arm enough that I yanked it off and hit myself in the face when he helped me up. It’s fair game.”

“I suppose.”

Bucky gave as good as he got, and you all knew neither of them meant anything by it. But today you could see he was in pain, but mostly he was frustrated.

“You can’t treat him with kid gloves,” Sam stated firmly.

“I know. And I don’t think we should, but this is more than him being grumpy. He’s in real pain.”

“Maybe you’re right. I’ll lay off until he settles down a bit.”

“Thank you.”

The two of you started stretching.

“You know, if you’re really worried about him being sore, you could always offer to give him a massage,” Sam smirked and waggled his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes before you actually considered at.

“Actually. That’s not a bad idea.”

His eyes widened as he froze.

“Wait. You’re really going to offer to give Barnes a massage.”

“Not exactly. But I think I have something that could help.”

“What is it?”

“I’ll tell you later. After I kick your ass.”

“Oh you are on.”

After a full morning of sparring with Sam and then a round of weight training with Steve you were more than a little sore. You settled yourself in the living room post shower with your foam roller and your trigger point massager.

“How was your workout?” Bucky asked as he closed his book, watching you roll back and forth to relax your quad.

“It was good. I think Steve is trying to make sure I can bench press him soon.”

“I’d pay money to see that.”

You huffed out a laugh which quickly turned into a groan when you started rolling out your other leg.

“It would be pretty hilarious,” you agreed wincing slightly when your shoulder twinged. “I’m not far off. I’m at 220 now.”

“Pretty impressive considering you started lifting like a month ago.”

“Started lifting again,” you corrected him. “I used to lift when I was in the marines.”

“I didn’t know you served.”

“Marine corporal y/n y/l/n at your service.”

Folding yourself so you sat criss cross, you pulled out the trigger point massager debating which end to use.

“What’s that?” Bucky asked as he watched you.

“It helps me get the knots out of the hard to reach places without putting me in more pain. It was a lifesaver when Nat decided I needed to be able to do a full rings performance.”

“Um. Why?”

“They needed me to go in as a gymnastics coach for the men’s team. Had to prove myself.”

“Wow. You’re something else.”

You sighed out your thanks as you hit the knot just the right way to get it to release. Bucky eyed you curiously trying to figure out if it would help him, but also not wanting to ask. You had to bite your tongue to keep from offering it; you knew he was apt to refuse.

“Y/n, can you come help me with dinner?” Sam called.

“Coming, Sammy!”

You started to push yourself to your feet but your arms buckled and you fell back onto your butt with a grunt.

“Need a hand?” Bucky teased, already on his feet.

“No,” you tried again with similar results. “Alright, maybe I could use some help,” you finally sigh.

Chuckling, you grabbed both of Bucky’s hands as he hauled you to your feet.

“Thanks, Buck,” you breathed, caught off guard by the spark the contact gave you.

“Any time, doll,” he promised quietly, earning him a bright smile.

Neither of you had let go yet.

“Shake a leg, y/n!”

You rolled your eyes at Sam’s impatience.

“I’ll see you at dinner, Bucky.”

“See you.”

You squeezed his fingers lightly before releasing him. You tucked the foam roller and massager into the corner next to the couch and slipped out of the room, humming as you went.

“So did he go for it?” Sam asked as he handed you an onion to chop.

“We’ll see.”

Bucky stared at his hands for a moment; he’d felt a spark when he touched you. And he was almost certain you did too. It was the most contact the two of you had had since you joined the team six months prior, and it damn near knocked Bucky on his butt.

Shaking away the distraction he moved to return to his book, but hesitated as he looked at the massager. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt if he tried it. You had always been very generous with things far more valuable and personal than this. Bucky picked up the massager and settling the curve over his shoulder gasped in relief as it hit where he needed it immediately.

This particular pain had been plaguing him for weeks and to feel it recede was nearly euphoric.

When you passed by the common room to call everyone for dinner, you noticed Bucky was no longer there and your massager was precisely where you’d left it. Frowning, you gathered everyone you could and asked FRIDAY to call the rest.

Bucky and Steve were the last to join the table, laughing boisterously as they entered. You could see the lightness in him as he sat next to Natasha, and Sam shot you a knowing smile. And, if you happened to notice a massager of his own arrive in the mail a few days later, you didn’t mention it. If you did everything in your power to have more casual contact with Bucky, then you didn’t mention that either.

The phantom pain was the worst in Bucky’s opinion. All of the other aches and pains he could at least try to alleviate them. But the phantom pain, he simply had to wait it out. Sometimes he would try to work out until his body was exhausted, but still the pain came. So he turned to distraction.

Which is how he found himself sitting in the common room glaring at the television on his third round of channel surfing through nine thousand eight hundred and twelve stations. This was after nearly an hour of searching Netflix for anything to hold his attention.

“Hey, Bucky,” you chirped as you breezed into the room.

He merely grunted out a hello.

“I made tea. Thought you might want some,” you explained as you raised the deep blue mug that he favored.

A smidgen of his gruffness slipped away in the face of your thoughtfulness.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

You smiled and handed him the mug before preparing to retreat to your room to give him some peace and quiet.

“Did you – I mean, you’re welcome to sit. I mean stay if you want. I was just going to find something mindless to watch.”

Your bright smile continued to chip away at the pain induced grumpiness.

“I’d love to.”

You grabbed your favorite blanket and wrapped it around you before settling on the couch to his left.

Bucky tensed as you took your seat. His left side was always left open, he felt caged in, waiting for you to remember the horrible atrocities that hand had borne witness to and get as far as way from it as you can.

But instead you plucked the remote from his metal hand, unthinkingly brushing against it without so much as a flinch. Bucky wasn’t sure what to make of that, but it relaxed him.

“So what did you wanna watch?” you asked as you blew on your tea and opened the app menu.

“I dunno. Any suggestions?”

“Well my favorite brainless show is Galavant.”

“What’s that about?”

“It is a comedy musical extravaganza,” you quoted the tag line. “Basically Monthy Python meets Princess Bride meets my high school drama club.”

Bucky chuckled at the explanation.

“You were in the drama club?”

“Yes, I was.”

“Please tell me your performances are on video.”

“Even if they were, they would not see the light of day.”

“Why not? I bet you were adorable.”

The words slipped out without him thinking about it, and you turned quirking an eyebrow and trying to hide a smile at the blush rising on his cheeks.

“I just mean, I’m sure you were a great actress. You’re one of the best spies we have.”

“Believe it or not, that’s a skill not a talent.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d still love to see that footage.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes.

“I bet you would, Barnes. But they are under lock and key.”

“So they do exist!”

“Let’s just watch Galavant?”

Bucky yielded with a triumphant smile.

“Let’s give it a shot. It certainly sounds interesting.”

“Yay.”

Bucky was skeptical throughout the first couple of episodes.

“It gets better,” you promised ardently when you glanced over after the third episode.

“I’m sure it does,” he hummed, sipping on his tea to hide his smile. “This is really good. What kind is it?”

“It’s a mix of chamomile, lavender, a little lemon, and a touch of peppermint. It’s my favorite. Always helps relax me after missions.”

Between the tea and your enthusiastic sing along during the first season, Bucky’s focus was slowly diverted from the lingering ache in his arm.

When you had started yawning, you readjusted your blanket and snuggled into his side unthinkingly. You had fallen asleep shortly after. He left his arm along the back of the couch, and angled his body slightly so your head rested on his chest instead of the hard metal of his shoulder joint. He turned off the TV, content to watch you as you slept. Soon though your deep even breaths soothed him and he fell asleep as well.

The first thing Bucky became aware of as he woke up was a weight on his chest. Your head was pillowed just above his heart and you were sound asleep. The second thing he noticed, but couldn’t quite believe, was that your right hand was interlaced with his left and resting on your stomach.

You were completely at peace and he had no idea what to do, so he stayed still watching you. Your other thumb stroked lightly along his forearm as you cuddled the metal like a teddy bear. Bucky hadn’t experienced this much tenderness since before the war. He hadn’t experienced this much casual affection ever.

He watched as your fingers flexed ever so slightly between his. If he closed his eyes he could feel warmth and the softness of your touch. And for the first time since he fell from the train, he wished a phantom feeling would last forever.

Over the next few weeks you always seemed to manage to brush up against his metal arm in some way – passing food at dinner, or reaching for the elevator button at the same time. Dozens of times. And each time Bucky’s heart would beat just a little bit faster.

But then a mission went wrong. You’d been posing as a married couple vacationing in the Cayman Islands as you tried to get close to the banker for a number of the major criminal syndicates around the world.

Pretending to be in love with Bucky Barnes was easy when you were halfway to actually being in love with him. You were close to the end of the mission when there was a problem and you had to drop Bucky’s hand and distance yourself from him. It brought enough attention that you got made. And soon you were fighting for your life.

It had been a week since the mission and Bucky hadn’t spoken a word to you since debrief. Today was the first time you saw him for more than three minutes as he sat on the floor fiddling with the wiring in his wrist while his arm kit lay open in front of him on the coffee table as you, Steve, Sam, and Clint were playing gin.

Steve was watching you sneak glances at Bucky. You had tried to find him to apologize, but when Bucky Barnes didn’t want to be found. He wasn’t.

“Gin!” You announced happily.

“Again?” Sam groaned.

“Tally up, boys.”

“Seventy-five,” Clint grimaced before tossing his cards on the table and turning his attention to Bucky, concerned by the odd sparks coming from his arm.

“Whatcha up to, terminator?”

“My arm hasn’t been working right since I got shocked on that last mission,” he replied without looking up.

“What do you mean not working?” Sam asked.

“Can’t really control it. My touch is too light or too harsh. I can’t regulate it.”

“That didn’t happen last time you got hit,” Sam observed.

“Yeah, but last time I wasn’t shoved into a lake while being electrocuted.”

The younger man hummed, dipping his head in acknowledgment. You grimaced knowing it was your fault he got pushed in the lake.

“Should we call Shuri?” Steve worried.

“It’s fine. I’m sure I can fix it.”

“It’s been a few days now.”

“Drop it, Steve,” Bucky nearly growled.

“Did you try turning off and back on again?” Clint offered before he and Sam broke out into a fit of laughter.

“Maybe you should stick it in some rice.”

“Enough,” Steve warned as Bucky gathered his things and headed for the door.

“Come on, Barnes, we’re only joking.”

“It’s not a joke! Just leave me alone. None of you know what it’s like living with this… this thing every day,” Bucky shouted as he rushed out of the room.

Steve made to go after him but you stopped him, with a gentle hand to his chest.

“I’ll go.”

“Y/n.”

“Steve, it’s time,” you told him pointedly.

Narrowing his eyes, Steve nodded after a moment of internal debate.

“Your choice.”

Offering him a reassuring smile, you turned towards the elevator.

“Y/n,” Clint murmured, making you pause. “Tell Barnes we’re sorry.”

“We didn’t realize it was an over the line day.”

“I’ll tell him,” you agreed.

You hurried towards the elevator, leaving the apologetic superheroes behind.

“Seventh floor please, FRIDAY.”

“Yes, Agent Y/l/n.”

Stepping out onto Steve and Bucky’s floor, you took a deep breath before knocking on the door.

“Go away!” He shouted from deep within the room.

“Bucky, it’s me. Please can I come in?”

“Just leave me alone, doll,” he insisted but you could tell he was just behind the door this time.

“Bucky, please. I just want to help.”

Silence.

But you weren’t ready to give up yet, so you leaned against his door.

He only lasted a couple of minutes before unlocking the door and allowing you in. His head hung low as you stepped past him and he recoiled when you reached to comfort him so you let your hand drop.

“Can I take a look? I think I can help.”

“I tried all of the normal fixes, and last time I checked you weren’t a biomechanical engineer so I’m not really sure how you can help,” he explained, trying to hustle you out the door.

You tried not to be annoyed by his dismissiveness, but it ruffled you nonetheless. If only he knew.

“I may not be an engineer but I have a lot of experience with prosthetics. I understand-“

“Oh really?” he snapped, frustration getting the better of him. “What the hell do you understand? Do you understand the phantom pain and the way my skin feels like it’s still ripping apart? Do you know how it feels when you have a part of you that you can’t control sometimes? Do you understand how much I wish I didn’t have to be afraid of touching someone with this thing? No? Then just leave me alone,” he growled, though the despair cut through the bite.

“Bucky.”

“Please, doll. Just go.”

His head hung low and his tone was utterly defeated.

“Bucky, I do understand you. I understand all of those things,” you murmured.

“How could you possibly?”

There was an almost hopeful undercurrent to the disbelieving question as his eyes met yours.

“Because they happen to me too,” you sighed softly as you extended your right arm in front of you, tapping your pulse point twice to disable the holograft.

Bucky’s eyes widened as the graft retracted into a thin bracelet of rose gold, which matched your newly revealed arm.

“Wha-, how? When?” he stumbled over the questions as he examined your arm.

“I was stationed at a base hospital. There was an accident with the autoclave they used to sterilize the instruments. The steel door blew off and pinned me to the ground, which I probably would have gotten out of, but the impact sent a ton of heavy equipment piling on top of me. By the time they got me out, the damage was done and they had to amputate.”

“That’s… I had no idea.”

“Most people don’t,” you agreed quietly, averting your eyes and resisting the urge to hide your arm behind your back.

“Who does know?”

“Natasha who recruited me. Tony who built my arm and the holograft. And Steve because it glitched out on a mission and he paid the price. Like you almost did.”

“What?” he asked, his brows furrowing.

You finally looked at him.

“When we were undercover last week and I yanked away, it was because my arm was glitching and I could control my fine motor skills anymore. The last time it happened to Steve I actually managed to fracture a few of his bones. I forgot that you wouldn’t have the same problem.”

“So I didn’t hurt you?”

His body was tense as he waited for your answer.

“Oh no. Of course not.”

You heart sank to the floor as he shoulders slumped in relief.

“Bucky, is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” you asked softly.

He nodded, meeting your gaze through his lashes.

“I thought I hurt you and that’s why you pulled away.”

You were shaking your head before he could finish his sentence.

“No. No. Oh I’m so sorry you felt that way. I didn’t want to hurt you. When it all went to shit, I regretted not telling you so much.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Honestly? Because I didn’t think you’d take me coming up to you and saying ‘hey, I’ve got a metal arm too let’s be friends’ as a good first impression.“

Bucky chuckled at the mental image you conjured eyes crinkling as they found yours.

“It certainly would have been memorable. But I suppose that’s fair.”

You hummed softly as you waited for his next move.

“So all of the things you did for me… the massager, the tea, the weirdass show?”

“All things that worked for me. And Galavant is a treasure,” she added as an afterthought.

Pursing his lips deepened his frown.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Bucky. You didn’t know.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he argued. “I never should have yelled at you or taken my frustrations out on you. Please accept my apology.”

His oceanic eyes implored you.

“Of course. It’s all forgotten.”

“Thank you. I owe the guys an apology for today.”

“They understand,” you assured him. “They said their sorry.”

“Still, I should-“

He turned towards the door but you quickly moved in front of him.

“Will you sit your butt down.”

Bucky was shocked by the authority in your tone and immediately complied without thinking, plopping down on the nearest surface which happened to be the bed.

“Now, can I please look at your arm?” you asked softly.

If he still truly didn’t want your help you would back off.

Bucky nodded his assent, swallowing harshly.

“Where’s your kit?”

“On the desk.”

Grabbing the small screwdriver and a set of tweezers from the worn leather pouch, you sat on the bed next to him and got to work.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you mumbled as you focused on tracing the currents in his arm.

“Why do you always wear the skin graft?”

You were quiet as you thought about your answer.

“From a tactical standpoint, I’d stick out like a sore thumb. So it’s a necessity on missions.”

“But around the team?”

“I wanted one less thing for them to make assumptions about when I joined I guess.”

Before Bucky could ask what you meant, you continued on.

“After the accident, things were hard. It was a major loss, and I wasn’t quite sure how to cope. I didn’t think my life could ever be normal again. But my rehab team were great and they’ve made such amazing advances in prosthetics that life was different but it was okay. I found a new normal, and I could live my life the way I wanted to for the most part. But other people when they met me couldn’t see that. It was like I was nothing more than my arm and my accident. So when Natasha recruited me and Tony offered me the holograft I took it.”

“A chance at normal.”

“Exactly. Fortunately, I’m not known for my metal arm so no one questioned it.”

You offered him a sympathetic smile, knowing he would likely never have the luxury of anonymity. Baseball caps and sunglasses weren’t as good of a disguise as some super soldiers might think.

“This is true. Do you hate it?” Bucky almost whispered and you froze.

The super soldier’s eyes darted to yours when you didn’t speak and your hands stilled.

“I did. For a long time. I’ve known a lot of friends who’ve lost limbs, lost lives, because of i.e.d.’s and landmines, so honestly I did my two tours expecting to not come home in one piece. The fact that it was a random accident in a low risk assignment, made me feel like I’d swum across an entire ocean just to drown in a wave pool. I hated that it made me feel weak. But over time, it became a part of my life. And after attending too many funerals my life was more than enough to be thankful for. And now, I get to use my arm to help people. So no, I don’t hate it. Not anymore.”

Bucky was quiet as he observed you, trying to sort out all of the new information. You returned your attention to his arm, carefully ferreting out the problem.

“Aha! Gotcha. Little piece of… there.”

You stripped out a bit of exposed wiring and tightened a bolt and eighth of an inch.

“That should do it,” you announced. “How does it feel?”

Bucky swung his arm in a wide circle and flexed his fingers.

“Much better. What was wrong?”

“The shock fried on of the connections that translates the electrical impulses from your nerves. It made it hypersensitive.”

“Thank you, doll.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad I could help.”

You returned the tools to his kit, taking your time to precisely arrange them so you could try to think of what to say next.

“How are your tactile sensations?” You asked when you sat down on the bed again.

“They feel okay, but I should probably test it to see. Make sure it works on precious things.”

“Got anything precious nearby?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky cautiously raised his hand toward you.

“May I?”

You nodded, holding your breath.

The silver hand continued its path to your cheek, cradling your face tenderly as you leaned into his touch.

“You are beautiful. And I have to thank you for being there in quiet ways when I wasn’t ready to ask for help.”

“You’re welcome. I hope you know how much we all care about you. I hope you know how much I care about you.”

“I do.”

Slowly pulling away from your cheek, you pouted until Bucky threaded his silver fingers through your rose gold ones as he lifted your right hand. Admiring the delicate craftsmanship and the way it caught the light, he gently turned it so he could press a kiss to your knuckles.

You gasped at the sensation. The holograft, much like a glove, dulled your sense of touch. The feeling of his lips against your hand was overwhelming.

“This feels…” you breathed unable to find the words.

“Right,” Bucky supplied. “It feels right.”

You nodded, swiping at tears.

“Like it’s the way it’s meant to be. Your hand in mine,” you mused quietly.

Bucky’s answering smile was brilliant as he squeezed your fingers.

“That’s because it is.”

~~~~~~~~ The End

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this. And @ashhys-lost-in-fanfics-again I hope that I did your request justice. Thank you again for the request, I loved writing. Will reblog with Tags

#Bucky x Reader #Bucky Barnes #Bucky x Reader Oneshot #Bucky Barnes Oneshot #Request Fic

230 notes · View notes

1zashreena1 · 4 years ago

Text

Princess and the Migraine -7

18+, m/f, technically OCxDiego Jimenez [Power]

Summary: When Princess needs his help Murder Panther undergoes a trial by fire and comes out soft and gooey. Like a marshmallow. A really sexy, highly dangerous marshmallow.

WARNINGS: Ridiculous descriptions and 'the code is more like guidelines' outlook on grammar. Is it OOC if the character was given essentially zero development in canon???

NO SMUT, usage of names, mild groping (he’s still Diego), illness and medical establishments, plus size woman+fit man, secretly competent Diego!, helpless Princess, bad boys with too much money and not enough impulse control, secondary OCs, excessive swearing (???), illegal business dealings... I mean, its DIEGO

A/N: Princess took on a life of her own and has essentially become an OC. There are infrequent mentions of her description (specifically as plus size) and her actual name in later pieces (its Bicki). She started as self-insert so she looks like me (plus size, white, short, blue eyes, curly hair). If that is not your thing, I totally understand. And do not feel obligated to read this, I will not be offended!

I'm not a fan of "plot" so be aware that most of this series is just meandering through their relationship, angst-fluff-smut whiplash style. But with dick jokes.

TAGLIST: @chelsfic @symbiont13 @nicke0115 @bunnykjm @rosee-sensuelle @girlpornparadise @mandoplease @heresathreebee @xxsteph-enrixx @jetiikad @joalsglasses @mutantcookiesecrets @demoncatstone @squidlywiddly87 @lockedoutofmyotherblog @poeedamerons

gif by @nicke0115

Diego had received the normal text from his Princess, a simple and efficient 'here' attached to a selfie. This Friday the selfie was in his bed, that mane of ringlets tossed up over the pillow and those deep blue eyes half closed in relaxation. There was nothing sexual about it, hell, he couldn't even see her lips, and it still made him half hard. What if I could see that every day? In person, right next to her? I must convince her to quit that stupid little job.

Groaning softly, he flips the phone to be held horizontally in his left hand while the right presses the heel of his palm into his burgeoning erection. He cannot wait to bury himself into that soft little body; fingers, tongue, dick, anything. She is the softest woman he has ever touched, even her tiny little feet are soft, it is maddening. He slouches down into the backseat to relieve some of the pressure from his pants.

"You want me to stop anywhere, boss?" Bastian asks from the driver's seat. Bastian is a good kid, he follows orders, he is efficient, he even anticipates needs like this, offering to get food on the way home. He looks nothing like his uncle. Julio always did say that his little sister liked blondes and Bastian was living proof.

"No, I will see what she wants to do first." Diego wants to get his hands on Princess more than he wants food.

Julio chuckles from the front seat, "His dinner is already at home, eh?" He's been with Diego for twenty years, he knows how this goes down.

"One can only hope." Diego mutters as he flips through the 'Pretty Princess' photo album in the phone's gallery. Sure, there are the expected compromising pictures (much to his delight, she enjoys posing seductively at any level of undress), but many are shots of her laughing, being excited at a new restaurant, snuggled into his side at some scenic location perfect for a couples' pic.

A couple. Is that what they are? Does he want that? (Yes) Can I have that? (I will). He hasn't wanted any of what used to be his regular girls in… six months. Sure, Franchesca and, and whatever-her-face-is accompanied him to some club events, he even let Franchesca blow him in the car. But it wasn't until he closed his eyes and saw another gaze, drowning blue and dark as ink, that he came. Vocally. Franchesca at least knew better than to comment. That was the last time.

He wants this. He wants Princess. His Princess. How, he has no idea, but he assumes he'll figure it out. He has figured out how to survive his sister and his profession all the way to age 42. He has figured it out so far and he has no plans to stop now.

That book about relationships and autism spectrum really helped, maybe there are other similar books that he can get. Is there a book on how to get women to admit feelings? There has to be a book on something so… unusual, yes?

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

The elevator dings and he steps out before the doors are fully open. The common area is dark and quiet. "Princess?" He calls. Nothing.

Maybe she is still in the bed waiting for me. The image throws him into rapid motion; the jacket is tossed over the back of the sofa and he pulls the gun out of his belt to place it on the breakfast bar as he passes by. With huge strides, he hurdles up the stairs and into the bedroom.

The small lamp on the nightstand is at the lowest setting, turned to a faint aqua color. She does love fiddling with the ridiculous color options. Her bag is on the floor in front of the closet along with her purse, shoes, and a trail of clothing to the bed.. Odd, she always places everything just so. Never just, just dropped… anywhere.

Princess is in the bed… but she is asleep.

Diego pushes his shoes off and pads over to her side of the bed. Her glasses are on the nightstand and next to them the gemstone ring he gave her is threaded onto one of the diamond tennis bracelet for safekeeping. It makes him smile, how thoughtfully she cares for his gifts.

"Princess?" She winces at his soft rumble and cracks one eye open. "What's wrong?" He reaches out to touch her hair and she flinches away. Ouch, what the hell?

She holds out a hand, he takes that instead. "Baby?" Her voice is so quiet he can barely hear her. Something is very wrong.

Kneeling to the floor, Diego rests his chin on the bed directly in front of her face and waits. He has learned that if it's something physical that is bothering her he can simply wait her out. Each time that he has tried this it resulted in a shorter wait period the next time and a less agitated Princess. He's not sure if he is training her or if maybe it's the other way around.

Her fingers curl around his thumb, small but strong. Finally, she opens her mouth, "I have a migraine. Was fine earlier, but police lights. On whatever bridge. We sat for like ten minutes, Bastian couldn't get out of the traffic. I took medicine, but I need to sleep." She pauses, her eyes closed tightly and brow furrowed. Her breathing is shallow, like she is trying very hard not to cry. "I'm sorry, baby." She whimpers, and then a real tear does escape.

"No no no, Princess. No crying. Please do not." The absolute last thing Diego can deal with today is that pretty little face all red and messy with tears. She sniffles but doesn't move away when he wipes the tears with his thumbs. Those blue eyes are watching him very closely.

"Are--" she licks her lips and tries again, "Are you mad at me?" Her high voice cracks at the end and she blinks back more tears. Apprehension is coming off of her in waves.

Diego cocks his head, trying to understand where this question comes from. "You… think I will be mad at you for being ill?" Slowly, he leans closer to her while she nods tightly with a tiny 'mm hmm' of affirmation. When she huddles into herself, almost hiding under the covers, understanding begins to bloom. "Have other people gotten mad at you for becoming ill?"

Princess swallows hard, her eyes slide away from his. She is embarrassed. Someone has managed to shame her into feeling guilty about a hereditary illness she has no control over. He can feel rage climbing up inside his chest.

"Y-y-yeah. It's really inconvenient. I ruin p-plans like this. I'm sorry." Her voice is muffled by the covers. She picks at the stitching on the sheet, snapping her nail back and forth over the threads in a nervous tic.

Right now, I am doing the training because this needs to be broken. Immediately. He takes a deep breath, "No, Princess. No one can be mad at you for suffering from a condition you cannot control. That is ridiculous. I could never be angry at you for getting sick." He tries very hard to sound soothing and not like he's about to reprimand a ludicrous child. Slowly, he pulls the sheet down until her entire face is visible. Her eyes flick back to him, then away again. "Aqui." She obeys the command thoughtlessly, locking on his gaze. Diego raises a brow in question.

Princess huffs a soft sigh, then whispers, "Okay." Her face smooths out, eyebrows straightening and lips relaxing back to their normal fullness. Her little nose even unwrinkles as she eases. She must decide she buys it, because next she timidly asks, "Will you bring me a Coke?"

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

Diego gets her settled with her phone (which he silences) and the small bottle of Coke (opened downstairs so the noise doesn't hurt her). When she pulled herself upright to drink he realized she was still dressed so he got her into pajamas, it was odd putting clothing onto her instead of taking it off. She kept her eyes closed and allowed him to move her around like a ragdoll, relaxed and trusting.

The tightness in his chest only worsened when she crawled into his lap and nuzzled into him with a plaintive, "Hold me." Princess wasn't really a cuddly type of girl, so he knew this was bad. After ten minutes she was done with the 'mushy stuff' as she referred to it. He let her get situated then went downstairs with instructions to check on her in two hours.

Diego spent the time researching migraines, her medication, and other possible treatments. Julio came and went with dinner, cheesesteaks that Princess had mentioned long before the police strobe lights.

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

The required two hours have passed, Diego swears it was two days long, so he heads upstairs to check on her. Princess is on her stomach, head turned to the left, and her mouth hanging open. His hand lands softly on her shoulder while he calls her, "Princess?"

Nothing happens.

He tries again, just a little louder, "Princess? Hey, mirame." Still no response. She is a light sleeper, this is highly unusual. And he is beginning to be concerned.

Diego nudges her shoulder, then, when he gets nothing, pushes until she rolls over. She doesn't even make a sound. Shit. Shit shit shit.

"Hey! Bicki! Wake up, come on." Her lashes flutter and she makes a whiny noise. Sitting on the bed, he hauls her into his lap so she leans back against his left arm. Tapping her cheek with his right hand gets a semi-verbal response.

"Dieg.. Where. I'm. Can't." She slurs and burrows into his chest. "Too brigh. Is brigh." Her voice is so quiet he can barely understand her. Her tiny hands are fisted in his shirt, hanging on for dear life.

He grips her jaw in his right hand and turns her head to face him. "Princess? Can you tell me?" She's struggling through his name, like her tongue is too big for her mouth. "Yes, it's me. It's your Diego. We're home, in bed. You're safe." Her brow furrows as she processes this information. It takes three times longer than it should, he hasn't seen anyone this fucked up in a long time. Its terrifying.

Finally, her hands in his shirt ease their grip and she looks around the room. "Diego?" She is squinting hard, blinking slowly.

"Right here, Princess." Turning her to face him, he can see that her eyes are completely unfocused, pupils so small they're barely visible in a sea of grayish blue. Her hands come up to touch his face and she makes a tiny noise of distress.

"Baby. Can't see. I can't." Her whisper fades as she goes limp, eyes rolling up. Her breathing stays even, if shallow, so he doesn't panic. Yet. She said she does this, that she will black out. Her whole family does it. Her sisters, her niece, her mom… HER MOM.

Hit by sudden inspiration, Diego whips around to her phone on the nightstand and snatches it up. Her mom. Her mom would know what to do, right? Easing her deadweight back to the bed, he makes sure she is breathing easily, then turns back to her phone. He unlocks her cell with his left hand while digging his out of his right pocket. There, at the top of her contacts labeled 'Emergency', Mom. Dad. Diego. He ignores the sharp flutter in his chest at seeing himself as her emergency contact, and opens up the Mom item. Before he can second guess himself, he taps in the number in on his own phone and hits the green button. She better know who I am or this is going to be a disaster.

It rings twice before a remarkably similar voice answers, "Hello?"

Shit, now what?

"Hello, is, is this Kat?" Fuck. Shit. Damnit Diego.

"Yes…?" It really is startling how similar their voices are.

"I do not know if you know who I am, my name is Diego and I--"

"Diego! Ohhh, I know who you are." She laughs lowly, just like Princess. He notes the fact that she recognizes him instantly for later discussion.

"I apologize for calling like this, but I need your help." He tries not to sound scared. He does not get scared.

"What's wrong? Is she okay? Are you okay?" Apparently he failed. Her mom, Kat, knows instantly that something is amiss.

"She said she had a migraine and took her medicine. Now, I cannot get her to wake up fully and she keeps repeating that she can't see. I don't know what to do, I've never seen her like this. Please." It all comes out in a rush, he hopes she can understand his rapidly thickening accent.

"Okay, first of all, take a deep breath." Do I sound that panicked? Should I be panicked?!? "This isn't that unusual for her more severe migraines. As long as she keeps breathing. Is her breathing fairly normal?"

He watches her chest rise and fall at regular intervals. "I, err, yes? It's a bit fast, but even."

"Good. That's good, Diego. She is not going to like this, but you have to take her to the ER."

"Okay. I can do that. Yes." Wait, what do you do when you take someone to the ER?

"Okay, listen. You have to tell them that she's had these since she was a kid. She takes the highest tablet dosage of imitrex, tell them what time she took it. She needs the shots, yes she has had them before, no drug allergies. Under no circumstances do you tell them that she blacked out or they will admit her. Also, no chance of pregnancy, they'll ask that. If they think she might be pregnant then they won't treat her."

THEY WHAT.

"What do you mean? Won't give her the shots? If she might be pregnant? What shots?" Diego is very confused. This is a lot of information in a very short time and all of it is very important. Why would that matter?

"Hospitals will not give medications to pregnant women. Only tylenol, generally. And that isn't going to help." Her mom sounds like this topic has been thoroughly debated in their household.

"Okay. No pregnancy. No black out. Have been having these her whole life, need shots, have had those before. I have the bottle of ...imitrex? I should take it along?" He ticks each item off on a mental list. "Actually, could you text all of... that?" He most definitely does not want them to admit her.

"Of course. And taking the bottle is perfect, that's quick thinking. What time did she take it?"

What time did she take that?? She had already taken it when he got home. "Sometime before seven…? Yes. Between six and seven."

"One last thing, I want you to be prepared. Its two shots, a sedative and a pain medication, but they'll put it in her butt."

That's… interesting. "In her butt?? She won't even let me put something in her butt." He mutters petulantly.

Her mom is sputtering with laughter. "Oh, I see why this relationship works. Wow. This is perfect."

"Err, is there anything else? I've never been to an ER, so. Um." Something about the way she sounds just like Princess puts him at ease, like he doesn't need to worry about impressing her.

"No. I'll text you the list after we hang up. Just let me know how she is tomorrow, okay? I know you'll take care of her, Diego."

"Yes, I will. Thank you." He ends the call and texts Julio to get up here now.

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

The ER is pandemonium and Princess is extremely unhappy to be there. She is curled into his side, trying to hide from the noise and the light, while Bastian fills out forms for her. Julio thought to bring her purse, it was a very good idea since her entire identity is in there. When Bastian hands over the forms to the desk the nurse sees Princess's hospital work badge in his hand with her ID and she magically shoots to the top of the waitlist.

The nurses come to take her into the back, they bring her a wheelchair which she grumbles about but goes willingly when Diego pushes her into the seat. He wants to go with her, but he isn't family. If this were anyone else he would do whatever he wants, but this is his Princess. The thought of breaking her trust by violating her privacy is unbearable, anything like this has never been discussed.

They barely disappear around the corner before a nurse comes right back.

"Alright. Which one is Diego? She will not shut up and she will not calm down. Come with me." The nurse grabs his arm and practically drags him for a few steps until his longer legs catch up.

They go into a curtained room where one nurse is trying to manhandle yoga pants down well-rounded hips and another is opening prefilled syringes. Princess is swiping at the unfamiliar hands on her body, unbalanced and jumpy. Little noises of fear escape from her lips in high pitches, her head is down and her eyes are closed tightly against the florescent lighting. Diego suddenly remembers that she can't see. She is terrified.

"Princess?" The second he touches her with one hand she dives into him. Her own little hands claw into his shirt and she tries to mold her body to his. "I'm here. You're safe." Wrapping arms around her, he holds her still tightly. She nods against his chest and relaxes a tiny bit.

The nurse with the syringes looks pointedly at Princess's butt, then back up at him. Oh. Right. Sliding one hand down her back, he inserts fingers into the back of her pants and eases the elastic waistband down. "Its just me," he whispers into her hair as she trembles in his hold. The strong muscles of her butt twitch, but she doesn't fight him. She trusts me.

Its over in under five seconds, both shots and both bandaids, one set on each side. She jumps with each injection but can't seem to process what happened fast enough to respond appropriately.

The nurse doesn't even bother to look up from cleaning the table. "Okay, take her home and put her to bed. She'll sleep for the next eight hours."

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "That's it?"

"Yep, thanks for your help."

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

Princess succumbs to the sedative halfway home and Diego has to carry her to bed. She really does sleep for most of Saturday. He keeps going in to check on her, she is completely limp and doesn't change position once. Its a bit disturbing how helpless she is like this. Has she had to do this alone before? Or, worse yet, with the awful ex?

He stays right beside her after that.

When she finally wakes her eyes are normal again and she immediately reaches out for him. "Diego?"

Her little question makes him smile warmly.

"Right here, Princess. Welcome back." He rumbles softly, unsure if sound still hurts her. Stroking one hand down her back makes her arch up into his caress. So beautiful.

She squints up at him through the curtain of her hair. Slowly, Princess rises to all fours, then eases back to sit. "I…" she blinks at him. "I have to pee."

Okay, so awake but not totally coherent yet. She requires a little assistance in the bathroom, mostly a steady arm to lean on, but they manage it with only mild to moderate giggles and one bruise-inducing bump to the corner of the counter.

She stumbles back to bed, collapses face down, sticks her left arm out in his general direction, and wiggles fingers at him then back at herself.

"Take the stupid bandaids off. Shit itches."

Oh yes, finally time to touch the butt.

Diego sits on the bed beside her, one hip pressed up against her own. He firmly strokes both hands down her back just to hear her deep moan of pleasure. She arches up when he reaches the curve of her ass. Oh good, she is feeling better. Fuck that, she feels amazing, he chuckles at his own joke but doesn't pause in gently groping her. The silky panties slide easily over her cheeks, the sight makes his mouth water. The pale skin is only marred by the bandaids, so he pulls them both off in rapid succession then smooths fingers over the red marks.

"Mmmmm," she moans with the gentle treatment, "Thank you for taking care of me. That's the first time someone other than my parents did that for me. How did you know to take me to the ER, anyway?" Her voice is muffled in the pillow, soft and sleepy and content.

Diego absent-mindedly runs a finger down the crack of her ass, feather light. "Your mom told me what to do when I called her."

"YOU CALLED MY MOM?!?!"

Judging by her volume, apparently no, sound does not hurt her anymore.

#damnit diego #actually thank you diego #murder panther #soft murder panther #zash writes #stupid fluff

34 notes · View notes

remywrites5 · 5 years ago

Note

Angst 10 and 14 please! Thank you💚

Remus knew he was making a mistake going to the party but Lily was practically forcing him to go. Lily had recently gotten over her hatred of James Potter and had decided to give him a chance. They were going to James’ party so that she could finally tell him she fancied him. She’d threatened Remus with bodily harm if he didn’t go with her for moral support and he knew Lily was the type to follow through. It was a month before Graduation and there was a party pretty much every weekend as people got ready to never see each other again. Normally Remus wouldn’t have had an issue attending a party with his friends except that his ex-boyfriend was going to be there.

Remus and Sirius had had a very intense on again off again relationship for the past two years. The whole school liked to talk about them and follow their relationship, something that Remus wasn’t wholly comfortable with. There was actually a twitter that followed whether they were together or not. And if that wasn’t accurate you could usually tell by Sirius’ Instagram. When he and Remus were together he hardly posted pictures about anything else. When they were apart his Insta was mostly pictures of him and James, football practices and selfies.

It wouldn’t have been so bad except that during one of their good periods Sirius and Remus had decided to live together during University. There were both going to the same school and so it had made sense. Remus had saved all his money from his part time weekend job just to be able to afford the security deposit, which they had already put down on the flat. They had yet to talk about what they were going to do about it seeing as it was a one bedroom and neither of them could really afford it on by themselves. Maybe Sirius could if the Potters helped him out but Remus certainly couldn’t.

Their most recent breakup had been because Remus had dared to mention in Sirius’ presence that he thought Fabian Prewitt was fit. It had been an idle comment and one he hadn’t thought would be a big deal except that Sirius Black was a jealous prick and a drama queen. It wasn’t like Remus had wanted to get off with Fabian Prewitt, he had just been making an observation. It had been blown out of proportion and ended in a huge row that resulted in yet another breakup.

Sirius was guaranteed to be there seeing as it was his best mate’s party and was also being thrown where Sirius currently lived after running away from home. Remus knew he was playing with fire stepping into the house but between the two of them Lily was much scarier than Sirius.

As they walked into the party, Remus stayed close to Lily. It was fairly crowded already for still being early in the evening and Remus hoped he’d be able to make it through the evening without being noticed by Sirius. Pretty much everyone he had ever known was crammed into the house with loud music playing. He thought maybe he could make it through the night without seeing the one person he was most dreading.

All his hopes were dashed as they made their way into the kitchen to find drinks. Sirius was sitting on the kitchen counter, his legs dangling over the side, with James standing beside him and laughing. Sirius grinned until his eyes settled on Remus and suddenly all trace of mirth was gone and his face fell.

Remus really hated the affect Sirius Black had on him even after all this time. He had his long hair swept up into a messy bun, pieces of it falling down and framing his handsome face. He had on his favorite pair of ripped jeans, a Bowie t-shirt and his usual leather jacket. Remus shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away quickly, unable to continue to meet Sirius’ gaze. Why couldn’t help love someone a little less complicated?

“Alright Remus?” James spoke up. “Evans? Can I get you two something to drink?”

Lily gaze Remus’ hand a squeeze and then disappeared with James to go procure some alcohol. Remus felt himself immediately start sweating at the idea of being alone with Sirius. Just a few minutes into the party and his worst fear was coming to fruition. Sirius huffed and knocked his drink back, finishing what was left in his cup. He slid off the counter and got directly into Remus’ personal space. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here.”

“Lily dragged me,” Remus said, narrowing his eyes at Sirius, not backing down. “It’s called being a good friend.”

Sirius snorted in derision. “Yeah? And what about being a good boyfriend?”

Remus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “We’re not going to go through all that again, are we?”

Sirius scowled at him in response. “I’m sure Fab’s around here somewhere if you’re looking to pull.”

Remus couldn’t resist anymore and rolled his eyes. “I’m not interested in Fabian Prewitt.”

“Then why did you say you were?”

“I didn’t,” Remus said for the umpteenth time. “You’re infuriating. You can think someone is good-looking without wanting to fuck them. Like you for example. Still think you’re fit, don’t want to fuck you.”

Sirius stepped closer and Remus took a step back. “That’s a load of bollocks if I’ve ever heard it.”

“You’re an unbelievable dickhead.”

Sirius’ gaze flickered to the floor and suddenly his bravado from a moment before was gone. “Do you even still love me anymore?”

Remus took another step back, caught off guard by the question and the earnestness in which Sirius had asked it. “Pads, you’re the one who broke up with me.”

Sirius shrugged. “We do that all the time, though. It’s like a game we play with each other. But – but we had plans, Moony. We were going to have a future. Our flat –“

“You don’t get to just bat me around like a tennis ball and think I’ll always come back,” Remus said, interrupting Sirius. He couldn’t help being annoyed and angry that Sirius thought he was always just a sure thing. That he could treat Remus however he wanted because Remus was a sucker who couldn’t resist him. “That’s not fair, Sirius.”

“I know,” Sirius said softly, finally lifting his head up, his grey eyes soft and sad. “But youdon’t get to hurt my feelings and expect me to just shrug it off.”

Remus groaned and tugged his fingers through his curls. “For the last time, I don’t want to shag Fabian Prewitt! I had no idea your ego was so fucking fragile, Pads.”

“Then why did you say it?” Sirius shot back, crushing his red solo cup in his hand angrily. “We’re just deliberately trying to be a wanker?”

“It was just a dumb fucking comment!” Remus said defensively. “Like oh that was a tough maths quiz. I could really go for some Chinese Food. Fabian Prewitt is kind of fit. It wasn’t like I maliciously thought oh I know what I’ll say something to make my boyfriend feel bad. Won’t that be fun?”

“Maybe I just selfishly want my boyfriend to not talk about other guys in front of me. Wouldn’t that be novel?”

Remus took a deep breath and let it out slowly to try and compose himself. “It’s a good thing we never moved in together then. We’d kill each other within a week. It’s for the best that we ended things when we did.”

Sirius’ eyes went wide and he looked more hurt than Remus had ever seen him. Remus had to fight the urge to reach out to him and offer him some sort of comfort. “Right,” Sirius said, schooling his expression. “For the best.”

Sirius turned on his heel and rushed through the party, disappearing into the crowd. Remus pressed himself back against the counter and buried his face in his hands. Well done, Lupin, he thought to himself.

***

Remus had decided to ditch the party early and just go home. Lily had disappeared somewhere and things had gone horribly with Sirius. All Remus wanted was to just go home and wallow in misery and maybe chain smoke some cigarettes on the walk back to help calm him down. But when he started towards the exit, someone grabbed his arm.

Remus whirled around to find James. “What do you want?” Remus asked, knowing that James must be seeking him out on behalf of Sirius.

“Look, I know things are bad between you two right now but please go talk to him?” James asked, his eyes wide and pleading behind his glasses.

“I already tried that,” Remus informed him with a deep sigh.

“I know,” James said, releasing Remus’ arm. “He’s upstairs sulking. There’s only a few weeks left of school. You two are only going to have a limited amount of time to fix this. He loves you, you know? Maybe even more than you realize. I know he’s a difficult sod but he’s absolutely mad for you. Why do you think his Instagram becomes nothing but the Moony show when you’re together?”

Remus chewed his bottom lip as he considered it. He knew that Sirius and James were practically brothers and James would always stick up for Sirius. But that also meant he knew him better than anyone else. He did have a point, Sirius did become nearly obsessive when they were together. When things were good between them they were really good. Remus just wished one or both of them weren’t so bloody stubborn all the time.

“Fine,” he said, glancing towards the stairs. “I’m not guaranteeing anything but I’ll go speak to him.”

“That’s all I ask,” James said, grinning at him. “Thanks Moony.”

Remus made his way through the crowd of people, being careful not to bump anyone’s drink, and finally got to the stairs. He found Sirius in his bedroom, sitting by the window with his knees pulled up to his chest. He didn’t say anything as Remus entered the room and came to sit down beside him.

“Sirius – “

“No.”

“Come on – “

“I said no,” Sirius said, uncurling himself and dropping his feet onto the floor loudly. “Just shut up for once in your fucking life, Remus.”

“Fine,” Remus snapped, standing up to leave. He worked his jaw for a moment and then sat back down obstinately. “You know what, no.”

Sirius glowered at him. “This is my room. Get out.”

“I’m still in love with you,” Remus told him, staring him down. “And if you don’t stop you’re going to run out of chances.”

“Me?” Sirius said incredulously. “It’s not just me, Remus. Don’t pull that shite. You fuck up just as much as I do.”

“Okay fine, I’ll admit that,” Remus said, conceding that just as many of the breakups had been his doing as well. “But we can’t keep up the way we’ve been going because eventually one of us is going to stop coming back. I’m not going to let you keep pushing me away. We have to get better at talking to each other and not just exploding. I don’t want to keep doing this, Sirius. I want things to be good.”

“I want that too,” Sirius said softly, reaching out and taking Remus hand, lacing their fingers together. “Every time we break up I’m a fucking mess. You can ask James.”

“Then stop breaking up with me, you plonker.” Remus lifted their joined hands up and kissed the back of Sirius’ hand tenderly. “We might have to actually learn how to apologize to each other,” he managed to joke.

Sirius chuckled quietly and gave Remus’ hand a squeeze. “I still want to live together.”

“Me too,” Remus said, giving Sirius a small reassuring smile. “It’ll be a disaster, but fuck me, I want it.”

“It’s only you, Moony,” Sirius said, wiggling closer and kissing him sweetly. “For me. It’s only you. We’ll figure everything else out but I want you to know that.”

Remus slipped his free hand into Sirius’ hair, resting it on the back of Sirius’ head, bringing their lips together again. “I don’t want anyone else,” he whispered against Sirius’ lips. “Even though most of the time you drive me fucking crazy.”

Sirius smiled and pressed kisses along Remus’ jawline before burying his face in Remus’ neck and nuzzling him affectionately. “I’ll try my best not to drive you crazy anymore.”

Remus laughed and pressed a kiss to Sirius’ temple. “I don’t mind as much as I let on,” he confessed. He supposed that was just the nature of being in love with Sirius Black.

#wolfstar #i write things #high school au #angst #long post #anon prompt #modern setting #sirius black x remus lupin #fluff

125 notes · View notes

commentaryvorg · 5 years ago

Text

Danganronpa V3 Commentary: Bonus 4.2 - UTDP (Still Mostly Kaito Edition)

This is postgame content, so people shouldn’t be reading this without having already finished the main game anyway. But just to be safe: while this is non-canon character stuff, I will sometimes be mentioning events that happened in the main story, so there will be spoilers for the main game.

Last time in the first half of my Kaito-centric Ultimate Talent Development Plan coverage, it was all about Kaito helping people! Kaito encouraged Shuichi to use his detective skills to help out his schoolmates, and Shuichi passed some of Kaito’s advice about relying on people onto Kyoko. After some incredibly stubborn persistence to even get her to open up in the first place, Kaito nudged Maki into letting Kaede play piano at her orphanage, and Maki also bonded a little with Chihiro over keeping secrets and projecting their issues onto a dead bird. Then, after a brief sports festival interlude, Kaito helped Mondo be more positive about his future, and I lengthily compared Mondo and Chihiro’s relationship to Kaito and Shuichi’s one in canon, because both had similar issues and dynamics going on.

There’s still a bunch more Kaito-related stuff to cover in this mode, so let’s start off this second half on a high note, shall we?

Ryoma (featuring Kaito’s issues)

Another of Kaito’s friendly events is with Ryoma, so you can bet I’m interested in it. Remember, Kaito’s fondness for tennis meant he looked up to Ryoma as a hero, and as a result, all of Kaito’s unreasonably high standards for heroes that usually only apply to himself also apply to Ryoma. Ryoma therefore provides a delightful look into Kaito’s hero issues that can’t really be found anywhere else in this AU, since Kaito hasn’t been dying, and nor has Shuichi been saving everyone’s lives in class trials without seeming to need Kaito’s help.

This scene also features Usami – yes, she’s also here in this mode, as is Monomi, though never at the same time. I don’t even know, just go with it.

Usami: “I just came to talk to Ryoma! I’m everyone’s teacher… so if you ever wanna talk to me about something, please feel free!”

Ryoma: “Thanks, but there’s nothing to talk about. Don’t bother with me. Go back to your students. It feels… wrong for such a cheery mascot like you to be around someone like me.”

Kaito: “Really? I think talking about stuff will help. Come on, just talk to her.”

Of course Ryoma talking about things will help! And it’s… actually rather surprising to see Kaito doing something that amounts to trying to help Ryoma get stronger, by encouraging him to do this. Kaito is usually so hung up on Ryoma being weak in the first place that he can’t even get as far as suggesting some kind of help for him. So I can only assume that the reason he manages to do so in this instance is because Usami was the one to suggest it first, which made Kaito actually briefly see Ryoma as someone in need of support for once, because she was treating him that way, and agree with her.

Ryoma: “Hmph… is being nosy your talent or something?”

In my Kaito-isn’t-into-tennis AU, I wrote Ryoma’s POV describing Kaito as “nosy” for reasons I couldn’t quite place, but it seems I was subconsciously remembering that he does so here, even though I didn’t recall the details of this scene back then. Kind of like how Maki considers anyone worrying about her to be “gross”, “nosy” may well be Ryoma’s way to refer to people who are going out of their way to help him, as a way to try and brush off their help because he doesn’t consider himself worth it.

(In that sense, yes, being nosy practically is Kaito’s talent. Or at least it is with everyone except Ryoma.)

Kaito: “What did you say?”

Usami: “Hey! Fighting’s a no-no!”

Kaito: “We’re not gonna fight. There’s no use butting heads with him anyway. Because this guy’s a total sad sack now. He used to be an amazing athlete before.”

Being called nosy probably wouldn’t normally rile Kaito up, not when he considers it a good thing to be invested in other people’s wellbeing. But apparently something about it coming from Ryoma in particular gets to him and causes him to snap right back to his Ryoma-specific mindset of “he’s not worth helping because he’s supposed to be a hero but he’s weak”. Specifically, I think it might be because the “nosy” comment was essentially Ryoma brushing off Kaito’s attempt to offer help. That refusal to even try and get stronger is another kind of weakness – and a more meaningful kind, one that it makes more sense to be upset at someone about, because it’s a choice.

Not that that’s a thing that usually stops Kaito from trying to help someone, of course! He openly called Maki a coward for running away from her issues at first, but that didn’t change the fact that he knew she had the potential to be brave enough to face them, if he just pestered her stubbornly enough to convince her. It usually takes a lot for Kaito to conclude that someone really is beyond help and isn’t ever going to decide to change, as we saw with Kokichi in canon. But not when it’s Ryoma, apparently. Even though Usami got Kaito to temporarily see past Ryoma’s initial weakness and try to help, refusing that help even once and not wanting to change is even more weak of Ryoma, and is therefore again disgraceful for a hero and sent Kaito’s opinion of him right back to square one.

Which seems quite relevant to how Kaito was in canon, considering how much he refused any help with his own weaknesses. Particularly in trial 4, where it was very apparent that he was struggling to face the truth and should have reached out for support, and he was only making himself look even more obviously weak by not doing that.

This moment here with Ryoma, thanks to Usami letting Kaito get as far as offering help at all, is essentially illustrating to Kaito that if a hero does do the unacceptable and be weak in the first place, then refusing help for it when people can already see that he needs it only looks even weaker and even less heroic of him, and he should at least cut his losses and accept help. I would say that if only a moment like this with Ryoma had happened in canon then it might have served as a lesson of How Not To Be A Worse Hero (When You’re Already A Bad One) and taught Kaito to actually accept the support he needed. Buuuut I still very much doubt that, because Kaito here definitely seems to have fallen too far back into his general frustration of “heroes shouldn’t be weak at all!!!” to be using this as any kind of example.

Ryoma: “You knew about me?”

Kaito: “A little, yeah…”

Ryoma: “So you get it now. The Ultimate Tennis Pro… I’m not that guy anymore. That’s in the past.”

Kaito: “Yeah, I guess not… The Ryoma I knew was invincible and would go up against any opponent.”

Oh, Kaito, why am I so right about you. Throughout all of the lengthy rambles I’ve written about Kaito’s unhealthily unrealistic standards for heroes, including the fact that he also applies these standards to Ryoma, I had basically forgotten about this scene and didn’t use it to help me figure any of that stuff out. And yet here Kaito is, describing the Ryoma that he looked up to as invincible. Of course he saw him that way. Kaito’s writers have always known exactly what they’re doing and I love it.

Usami: “K-Kaito… Is everything okay!? Please calm down!”

Kaito: “My bad… I’m gonna go cool off.”

[Kaito leaves the room]

I like how Usami managed to notice, even though it wasn’t showing that much in his face based on his sprites, that Kaito was beginning to get really worked up about this. And credit to Kaito for actually acknowledging this when it’s pointed out, apologising for it (a more worthwhile apology than like 90% of the ones he ever gives) and leaving to calm down. Kaito can often react to things that upset him with a cycle of getting more and more riled up until he snaps in some way. At least in this case, he realised that he doesn’t want to end up lashing out as that doesn’t help anyone, and that the best thing for him to do is to just step away from the situation before he reaches that point. This is Kaito actually showing decent self-care! That’s rare.

…It’s probably only because Usami pointed it out to him. I said it’s ridiculous that she’s even here in this AU, but… Usami actually subtly did a lot for Kaito in this scene. Maybe he ought to talk to her. (You know, because Kaito is so good at talking to people about his issues.)

Usami: “The air feels so tense… It’s all my fault… I shouldn’t have said anything at all…”

No, Usami, you did a good. If you hadn’t been here and it’d just been Kaito and Ryoma, Kaito wouldn’t have even vaguely acknowledged the possibility of helping Ryoma and might have actually lashed out at him. This is a scene about Kaito’s issues with Ryoma, but it seems the writers included Usami in it for a reason.

The scene ends with Ryoma acknowledging that Usami cares about him, but also saying that he’s still not planning on actually talking to her and accepting her support. Damn it, Ryoma, you aren’t helping yourself either. He needs someone a lot more stubborn than Usami to really get through to him, but… yeah, there’s an issue with that, isn’t there.

There’s also a final year seasonal event that somewhat follows up on this. Ryoma heads to the gym to help Himiko set up for her Christmas magic show and finds Kaito already there.

Kaito: “Oh…”

This is Kaito’s evasive face. This particular kind of reaction rather reminds me of Kaito’s reactions to Shuichi’s presence in early chapter 5. Which is only appropriate, since this is a similar situation of him awkwardly not really wanting to talk to someone who sets off his issues, but not wanting to admit why either.

Ryoma: “Did Himiko get you to help her out, too?”

Kaito: “Well, something like that. You too?”

Ryoma: “Yeah. I may not be as fit as I was back in my glory days, but it should be enough…”

Kaito: “How pathetic… An athlete at your level should say stuff like, ‘I’ll take on any challenge!’”

Heroes like Ryoma are meant to be full throttle, larger than life, all the time, with no half measures. That’s what Kaito’s like when he’s setting an example for his sidekicks and anyone else he’s trying to inspire; Ryoma’s supposed be like that too!!

It’s not even acceptable that Ryoma is saying he’s still strong enough to get the job done and is going to do his best. Simply admitting to any kind of weakness in the first place isn’t allowed and will definitely prevent anything else he says from ever being inspiring. (Won’t it?)

Ryoma: “Hmph… Don’t bring up such an old story now. Those days are long past.”

Kaito: “I don’t care about your past!”

Kaito, you extremely care about his past. Not about the past of him being a murderer that led to all his self-loathing, because he doesn’t have to let that define him and can move on from it and do better in future. That’s a lot like Maki’s situation, and obviously Kaito doesn’t care about her past in that sense, so I can believe he also wouldn’t do so analogously with Ryoma. But here they were actually talking about Ryoma’s past before the murders, when he used to be a superstar athlete. Kaito very obviously still cares about that past, because that’s why he can’t deal with Ryoma properly. If Kaito was capable of seeing Ryoma as nothing but the person he is today, then he’d be able to help like can usually help anyone.

Kaito: “There are plenty of tennis players that look up to you. They’re trying to surpass your memory. One of them might become the next Ultimate Tennis Pro! So quit it with that mopey face you’ve got on all the time! When you see a tennis fan, can’t you just smile at him and say, ‘Tennis is pretty great, huh?’”

Kaito is kind of giving some reasonable advice here, but only on the level on which he looks up to Ryoma as his tennis hero. He’s managing to encourage Ryoma to be a little better at being that hero to people who look up to him, even if he’s not necessarily ever going to pick up a racket again. That’s something, but it’s not remotely what Ryoma really needs; it’s really more just what Kaito wanted from him.

Kaito: “That’s all… I just wanted to say that to you before we graduate.”

Apparently this really has been bothering Kaito on and off for the past three years such that he would have regretted not getting to say it in the end. But still, “you should be a better hero” is not remotely addressing the real problem here, Kaito. Three years and Kaito was still too hung up on Ryoma being a disappointment of a hero to actually be able to figure out how to help.

Ryoma: “Were you… just waiting for a chance to talk to me about tennis?”

Ryoma, perceptive as he is, does seem to have picked up that this whole speech Kaito just gave him was really more for Kaito’s own benefit. He just did it because he wanted Ryoma to become someone willing to talk to him, or at least others like him, about tennis.

Ryoma: “Well, even if I agreed to… do you really think you’re qualified to talk to me about tennis? Well… you’d probably say that something like that didn’t matter.”

Kaito: “Heh, so you do get it after all!”

Kaito has a point here, though. Someone shouldn’t have to also be a superstar with ridiculous anime tennis superpowers to be able to have a conversation about tennis with Ryoma, and if Ryoma’s trying to claim that just to avoid talking to people genuinely interested in tennis, then he’s only making excuses. (And I like how Ryoma’s perceptiveness lets him realise Kaito would say that to him before he even said it.)

Apparently Ryoma and Kaito do then end up chatting about tennis with each other as they set up the stage, which is at least some level of progress for both of them. Ryoma would probably have refused to talk about tennis if this’d been earlier on, but by now it seems he’s mellowed out enough – for reasons that have nothing to do with Kaito, of course – to be up for it if pushed. On Kaito’s end, though, this is still only him interacting with Ryoma as a fan of his and a fellow tennis enthusiast. He hasn’t stopped being incapable of properly seeing and helping with Ryoma’s real problems because of his own messed-up standards for heroes.

But even though Kaito still wasn’t able or even really willing to help him, we don’t have to worry about Ryoma in this universe. We can see this most clearly in one of Mahiru’s third year winter scenes in which she’s giving him some photos that he asked her to take as keepsakes of his time here…

Ryoma: “I won’t let it end so easily. During the three years we spent in this academy… I found something I don’t want to let go of. Something I thought I’d never find again… And your pictures… have captured their smiles so clearly. These pictures will always remind me that the time I spent here was worth every second.”

…so, Ryoma’s going to be okay. He’s found his new reason to live.

Year 2 seasonal events

Year 2’s seasonal event is the school festival in which a lot of the students are doing shows or exhibits displaying their talents. Kaito isn’t doing anything like that himself and only helped set up the stage, but then he can check out one of the shows afterwards.

- Can’t miss Kaede’s recital

Kaito’s POV wording for this option is great. It’s not just that he’s checking out Kaede’s show because eh why not – he actively doesn’t want to miss it!

Kaede: “Huh…? You came by yourself, Kaito?”

Kaito: “Yeah, my bad. Shuichi’s not here yet, but he’s on his way.”

Kaito, why are you apologising just because you didn’t bring Shuichi when she didn’t even ask you to? The fact that Kaito apparently on some level feels like this counts as doing something wrong suggests that he assumes Kaede doesn’t think much of him on his own and only ever cares about seeing him if he has Shuichi with him.

(I’d be surprised that he doesn’t know Kaede better than that, but… maybe what other people think of him is another inherent blind spot in Kaito’s intuition. I never quite thought about it in that way before, but that really does make a lot of sense and is kind of heartbreaking to think about. Oh, Kaito, you idiot.)

Kaede: “I-I didn’t mean it like that! It’s just… I’m a little surprised you came to listen to classical music.”

But of course Kaede didn’t mean her comment in the way Kaito assumed! Instead, however, it seems that she similarly assumes that Kaito doesn’t think much of her on her own and would only ever come to her recital if he was tagging along with Shuichi, rather than for his own enjoyment.

Kaito: “Hey, of course I’d come. You’re the one playing, so there’s no way I’d miss it.”

Obviously, though! Kaito respects and admires Kaede a lot, so of course he’d want to see her doing the thing she’s best at and loves so much! Classical music may not be personally Kaito’s area of interest, but that doesn’t mean he can’t appreciate Kaede’s passion for it and get excited about it anyway!

Kaito: “I know you’re gonna do great! As far as I’m concerned, you’re the best pianist out there!

Everyone is supposed to think Kaede is the best pianist out there; that’s literally the point of her being the Ultimate Pianist. So I love how Kaito doesn’t care about that, and instead he makes a point that her being so great at this is his opinion of her.

While it’s less prominent in this AU, Hope’s Peak tends to do the rather unhealthy thing of putting people’s talents first and acting like that’s the only thing about them that matters. If Kaede is the Ultimate Pianist, then that means that her being so great at the piano is just the baseline expectation for someone with that title and not really anything special at all. But Kaito doesn’t see her as an Ultimate who’s already destined to be good at her thing – he sees her as a fully-rounded person first and foremost who just happens to have an amazing talent that deserves to be praised and admired rather than expected of her. And he does this despite spending all day every day surrounded by Ultimates and being one himself to the point that someone being talented at a particular thing should be difficult to see as anything special any more. He’s so good.

Kaito: “Be confident and knock their socks off. I’ll be watching from the seats!”

Kaede: “Hahaha, thanks. That’s so Kaito of you.”

I love Kaede using “Kaito” as an adjective, much like I’ve done many times throughout this commentary. His personality is so impactful and distinctive that sometimes there’s no better way to encapsulate it than that. And the fact that Kaede does this goes to show that she also appreciates Kaito’s outlook a lot, because she wouldn’t describe it in this way that expresses just how uniquely him it is if she didn’t.

Both Kaede and Kaito assume that the other doesn’t think much of them or see them as anything more than another close friend of Shuichi’s, but they’re so wrong! You should be better friends with each other as well, you two! You have so much in common other than just being Shuichi’s friend!

Kaito’s other two options for the festival aren’t especially noteworthy. He can talk to Ibuki before her concert and see that she’s already plenty hyped up about it without his help, or he can check out a fashion show featuring the class 1 girls and have “Junko” (really Mukuro) accuse him of being a perv when he’s genuinely just interested in the show. (Why wouldn’t he be interested? There’s nothing unnecessary in this world!)

However, Kaito’s appearances in other people’s events for this school festival are all quite noteworthy in one way or another.

One of these festival events is with Byakuya. This is not someone you’d expect Kaito to go out of his way to talk to, because he’s empatically neither someone Kaito respects for being invested in helping others, nor someone who might benefit from Kaito’s support. But apparently there is one reason Kaito is interested in him, and therefore approaches him after a speech he was giving at the festival…

Kaito: “I’ve got a question for you! The Togami Corporation funds all kinds of stuff, right? What about space exploration?”

…Which is, of course, SPACE.

Byakuya: “That is within our power. The Togami group, and myself, can move mountains. We are obligated to spread our grasp into space. A loser like you wouldn’t understand.”

Byakuya, you asshole, you are talking to the Ultimate Astronaut; if you actually cared about a Togami space program then he’d be an incredible asset to that. Evidently Byakuya does not actually care about space travel itself and is only interested in doing this as a way to make his name seem even more big and important.

Kaito: “I’m no loser! I’m Kaito Momota, Luminary of the Stars!”

…At one point in the main commentary I mentioned that Kaito never actually responds to being called useless (which “loser” is pretty analogous to) in this overblown way. But that was because that kind of overblown response would have sounded like an obviously-desperate defence during the times when he actually was afraid he was useless. Here in this AU, though, Kaito has no such issues going on, so all that’s happening here is his genuine overblown confidence. Being called a loser just bounced right off him; he knows he’s not.

(Also look at how Kaito would rather inform Byakuya that he’s the Luminary of the Stars, even though him being the Ultimate Astronaut is pretty relevant to this conversation. His luminary title is so much more important to him.)

Kaito: “But I see you understand how great outer space is.”

I am kind of surprised though that Kaito didn’t pick up on the fact that Byakuya doesn’t understand how great space is, at least not in any meaningful way.

Kaito: “Alright! I’ll make you my sidekick!”

…Kaito? Clearly Byakuya is not a potential sidekick, what are you doing.

Kaito then apparently spends a while following Byakuya around and pestering him about space despite his protests. Given this, I can only assume that in this instance Kaito means a somewhat different kind of sidekick, one that only applies in the context of space travel. Obviously Kaito is the foremost authority on space around here, so he wants to teach Byakuya all about space exploration and how he can make the Togami corporation the best at space. Maybe Kaito does realise that Byakuya only “understands” how great space is in the sense that he superficially recognises it’s big and important, and so Kaito wants to teach him exactly why it’s so great so that Byakuya will definitely decide to throw all of his money at it.

Kaito, cut your losses, dude. You could do so, so much better than him for a space sidekick.

On a similar but much more interesting note, Kaito can also interact with Izuru Kamukura. (Yes, he’s in this mode like it’s no big deal. Hajime is also in this mode. They’re never both seen or mentioned in the same scene, so I guess we’re just running with two alternate universes here?)

Kaito: “How about it? You wanna become my sidekick, too?”

And Kaito just casually offers this out of nowhere after they’ve done nothing but help set up the stage together.

Izuru: “It wouldn’t make sense to have a sidekick who is better than you at everything, right?”

Oh, Izuru, you don’t get it at all. Kaito absolutely can have sidekicks that are better and more capable than him. The only thing required for them to be his sidekick is that there’s something standing in the way of them reaching their full potential, something that Kaito’s support can help with.

Kaito: “Heh, Ultimate Hope? That’s nothin’! I’m Kaito Momota, Luminary of the Stars!”

Heh, there’s another instance of him seeing his luminary title as far more meaningful than any of these Ultimate talents, even the most Ultimate one of them all.

Izuru: “I can analyze everything about a future you would follow.”

Kaito: “Analyze? You’re just talking about predictions. My destiny’s too big to be predicted! Plus… I’ve got Shuichi and Maki Roll as my sidekicks. If we include their strengths, the possibilities are endless.”

Silly Izuru, assuming Kaito has limits, that there are things that might just be impossible for him. That’s not how Kaito works! And I love that Kaito brings his sidekicks into it, too; he believes in their potential so much! More than that, he believes that when people work together, they have unlimited potential that could never be predicted!

Izuru: “As I predicted, you are an idiot. How boring…”

Kaito: “That’s a bad habit. If you keep saying that, you’ll start to think everything’s boring. Are you okay with that?”

…See, Kaito gets it. He knew exactly what he was doing in this instance when he asked Izuru to be his sidekick. It doesn’t matter that Izuru is infinitely more talented than him – he still has weakness that he needs help with. After nothing but a brief session of helping each other with some manual labour, Kaito managed to pick up on that. His intuition is incredible.

This weakness of Izuru’s – to see everything as boring because he’s such a super-genius that he can predict every possible outcome – is, as far as I understand it, ultimately the reason he ended up contributing to the apocalypse in his canon storyline, because Junko convinced him it was the least boring thing he could do. But it didn’t necessarily have to be that way. If he’d only had the right help, he could have ended up using his talents to do far more productive things than ending the world.

If anyone could teach Izuru how to have more passion for life, to see the value and excitement in things even if he already knows everything about them, surely it would be Kaito? If anyone could let him realise that people are inherently unpredictable and he’s never going to always know everything that will happen, surely it would also be a beautifully reckless doofus like Kaito?

Plus, Izuru was supposedly implanted with every single talent imaginable, but only insofar as he’s one person. He evidently doesn’t have Kaito’s talent, because that’s all about teamwork and co-operation. Izuru is already a super-genius, but he could be so much better than he is. If Kaito could convince him that this interpersonal kind of talent is worthwhile to have as well, then he could teach him that, and Izuru would learn to value other people’s strengths no matter how predictable they are! There’s just so much Kaito could do for him.

Unfortunately, Izuru brushes Kaito off as boring again and ignores continued attempts to sidekick him, so we can only assume that Kaito eventually backed down and decided it wasn’t worth it because Izuru wasn’t willing to try and change. Which I’m only begrudgingly accepting because if Kaito did succeed in making Izuru listen to him then that’d be the beginning of a whole storyline that this side mode just doesn’t have the capacity for. Otherwise, I really do believe Izuru had the potential to change, and that Kaito would believe that too and not give up so easily.

Just… man, imagine Kaito being a part of actual Hope’s Peak canon and just casually averting the apocalypse because he saw Izuru’s weakness and did his usual Kaito thing and it worked.

At some other point during the festival, Nagito approaches Kaito and is disappointed to hear that the Ultimate Astronaut isn’t putting on any kind of show about space today.

Kaito: “Oh, are you interested in space, too?”

Nagito: “Of course I am! The vastness of space… that’s the only stage suitable for your talent, right!? There’s no mistake that you’ll be able to bring hope to the world from outer space!”

Kaito: “Hmm… something feels off.”

Nagito: “Off? What do you mean?”

Kaito: “You’re not interested in space… Or me. That’s how it feels. Like it’d be weird for you to cheer me on…”

Kaito’s intuition is so good. He barely knows Nagito, but he can sense well enough just from a few sentences that Nagito doesn’t actually care about Kaito himself or his interests at all and is only obsessed with the “hope” that he thinks Kaito represents. (Not that Nagito’s concept of it is anything close to the actual meaning of the word “hope”, but let’s not go into that again.) Kaito hasn’t seen enough of Nagito to know for sure that this is the kind of creep he is (like I imagine Nagito’s classmates are probably fully aware by now), but even without that, he can instinctively pick up on it straight away.

Kaito would probably have a lot of very interesting things to say to Nagito if he was exposed to him more and got to know his deal better, especially if it’d been in the context of an actual killing game. …But really, Kaito’s already had to do more than enough giving a piece of his mind to a selfish asshole who keeps making the killing game about himself and his own bullshit philosophy, and there’s so much more to Kaito’s character than just being stuck doing that all the time. Let’s give him a break.

Nagito: “Hmm… did I get too excited? I’m sorry if my blabbering made you uncomfortable… But it’s true that I want to cheer you on, Kaito…”

Kaito: “Well, I guess you’re not lying… My bad.”

No, Kaito, not your bad, because you were right! Just because he really isn’t lying about “wanting to cheer you on” doesn’t necessarily mean he cares about you.

This shows something neat about how Kaito treats his hunches that never really came up in the main storyline. If Kaito’s hunch about someone is negative, then he won’t act on it without further proof. Despite how much faith he puts in his intuition, he’ll give someone the benefit of the doubt if they deny whatever negative thing he suspects about them. (We saw this kind of thing very briefly in trial 2 when he picked up that Kirumi was trying to save an “everyone” who wasn’t here but then stopped pushing the subject when she denied it, even though she was lying and he probably still suspected that.) After all, it’s just a hunch. Kaito doesn’t want to form firm negative opinions of someone based only on that, because that’s not fair. That’s just being a dick to someone for what’s really no good reason, especially if it then turns out he was wrong about them and they didn’t deserve it.

Of course, Kaito is quite happy to act upon unfounded positive hunches about people, because why shouldn’t he? There’s nothing wrong with being nice to someone for no reason! Maybe it’ll turn out he was wrong about them and they didn’t really deserve his kindness, but then, still, no-one was hurt; he was just being a bit too reckless by believing in them is all. Kaito is so often recklessly kind like that – yet we can see here that he also tries not to be recklessly unkind. He’s so good.

Elsewhere in the school festival, Mikan is working as a receptionist for the haunted house exhibit. In an attempt to attract more guests, she tries inviting passers-by… one of whom happens to be Kaito. As you can imagine, this does not go down well.

After his initial freakout over the idea, which rather startles poor Mikan, Kaito tries to calm down and talk himself into it.

Kaito: “Wait, wait… I’m not scared. Everything in there is just fake, right?”

Obviously he doesn’t want to be seen as a coward, but this could also be partly because he feels bad for freaking out at Mikan when she was genuinely just trying to be a good receptionist for the exhibit and doesn’t want to disappoint her.

Mikan: “Yes… they’re all just props for the festival. So it’d make me happy if you tried it… sorta…”

Kaito: [looking ill] “Sorry… I still can’t.”

But I’m glad he realises that he’s not going to be able to handle this and backs out before actually forcing himself through the exhibit and fucking up his health a lot more. Sometimes these things just can’t be helped, and that’s okay, Kaito. Looking after yourself is more important than saving face or preventing someone from being mildly disappointed. (And don’t apologise for it, you moron.)

Since Kaito already did make himself feel a little ill just thinking about it, at least he happens to be with Mikan, so she’s able to take care of him.

What interests me the most about this scene, though, is just the fact that it’s here at all. I went over at great length in the main commentary how I’m absolutely convinced that Kaito’s phobia only existed as something that Tsumugi deliberately wrote into him so that she could weaken him when she wanted to. It didn’t make sense for Kaito to have that phobia for any other reason – it was in-universe bad writing that was justified in an out-universe sense because Tsumugi was a lazy writer.

But in this AU, Kaito is not a fictional character written by Tsumugi and nobody is trying to nerf him. There’s no in-story reason for Kaito to have the phobia in this AU – the only reason is that “he had it in canon”, but the reason he had it in canon does not apply here. Every other one of his character traits is here in this AU not only because he had them in canon, but because they’re all a part of what make him Kaito. But I think it could be argued that his phobia is not a part of what makes him Kaito – it sure as hell isn’t connected to anything else about his character at all – and therefore that it doesn’t need to be here.

So it honestly would have been entirely plausible to me to see Kaito not have the phobia in this AU. They could have instead had a scene of Kaito excitedly going into the haunted house exhibit with absolutely no explanation as to why he’s okay with this, because why should there be an explanation for something he’s never had a problem with in this universe? It would have been a delightful subtle hint as to the reason behind his phobia in canon. I’d have loved that. Alas.

Instead, it seems the writers just decided to take the in-universe bad writing that gave Kaito his phobia originally and make it a part of the out-universe writing for Kaito in this AU. Which I guess is acceptable if we consider that Gonta is also here at all.

Gonta had by far the most obviously-fictional backstory – raised by a race of creatures from a videogame? – and so that shouldn’t be a thing in this universe where he’s not made from fake memories. However, they also can’t just briefly edit it so that in this universe his forest family really were wolves, because wolves don’t have a proper language. Apparently, if a human child is isolated from any kind of language for a prolonged amount of time at the ages Gonta would have been at, it severely fucks up their ability to grasp language at all and they become basically non-functional. This is not an issue with fictional-Gonta, because Reptites are sapient and have a language that he’d have learned instead, so his backstory is perfectly consistent with the person he is. But if some kind of sapient non-human creature is not able to be part of his backstory… Gonta’s entire character falls apart and does not make sense. So Gonta existing as the Gonta we know in any non-fantasy universe in which he wasn’t made from fake memories is bad writing.

The writers had Gonta exist in this AU anyway, of course, because obviously they didn’t want to deprive us of our lovely gentleman friend in this mode, and if that means there’s technically some bad writing here, then so be it. So I guess with Kaito as well, they used that same philosophy of keeping him exactly as he is in canon, even including the parts that make a lot less sense when he’s not made out of Flashback Lights for Tsumugi’s story. Hence Kaito’s phobia still being a thing even when it kind of actually shouldn’t be.

A few more miscellaneous scenes

Kaito’s last friendly event isn’t nearly as interesting to me as the rest of them and I’m not covering it in full, especially because it features Leon and Teruteru and I refuse to quote a single word that comes out of Teruteru’s mouth. But it’s still at least a little worth talking about. The gist of it is that Leon and Teruteru begin to discuss going after girls and are shallow and gross, but they’re vague enough about it at first that it somehow spurs Kaito to start talking about “a man’s passion” and sound like he might be agreeing with them.

Kaito: “I never said I wanted to peep! I’m talking about chasing after unknown worlds!”

But he was never agreeing with them; they were actually having two entirely different conversations at once without realising it. When Kaito said “a man’s passion”, he was talking about going to space, obviously, what the hell did they think he meant?

Kaito: “Listen up! I’ll teach you what a man’s passion really is!”

Kaito’s concept of manliness does not and never did have anything to do with gross sexualising misogyny, and if anyone thinks that is what being a man is supposed to be about, then he’s going to set them straight, dammit!

…Okay, admittedly that is probably not what Kaito’s about to do – presumably he’s just going to try and tell them how great space is, incidentally sidestepping the actual problem with how they were behaving. Danganronpa’s occasionally-shitty writing is thankfully not so shitty as to directly include Kaito in it (except for the literally four single lines in the main story in which he is still nowhere near as bad as these idiots and which are out-of-character outliers that should be ignored). However, it’s unfortunately still bad enough to not go and actually have the dudes who are shitty be called out by another guy for being like this. But if Danganronpa’s writing wasn’t Danganronpa’s writing, I really feel like this is the kind of thing Kaito would absolutely do.

While the writing isn’t letting Kaito properly acknowledge how gross those two are being, it is otherwise at least having him be very Kaito about this. Even if the other two were being legit and non-gross about it, Kaito would still rather talk about going to space than getting a girlfriend, obviously; space is way more exciting! (…Which, actually, means that this scene is some actual evidence supporting that that one line in one of his Salmon Team hangouts about crushes on girls is likely to be out of character for Kaito. And the one about reading dirty books, for that matter. Ha! Take that, clueless intern!)

Anyway, thankfully this is the last piece of Danganronpa shittiness that goes anywhere near Kaito that I am ever going to have to defend him from being seen as a part of. Let’s move onto something better.

The final year’s seasonal event is less of a specific school event; it takes place in winter close to graduation (the Japanese school year ends in March) and generally involves characters reflecting on their time here over the past three years. I’ve already covered a bunch of the ones I find interesting in conjunction with friendly events they’re connected to, but here’s a few of interest that are a bit more standalone.

Shuichi happens to come across Maki and Himiko on the morning of the winter closing ceremony. This is an unusual trio to see together in this universe and definitely has no particular out-universe reason behind it at all.

Shuichi and Maki are both feeling rather sentimental about the fact that graduation is coming up soon, but Himiko is having none of it.

Himiko: “Ugh, don’t make that face! It’s not like we’re graduating today!”

Shuichi: “H-Himiko?”

Himiko: “Besides, we can still see each other after we graduate! I’ll invite you all to my magic show! My magic can still improve. The next time I show it to you, it’ll be even more amazing! See? Why don’t you guys try to think of the future in a more fun way? Look forward to it!”

Look at her go! She’s been spending enough time with Tenko over the past three years to have reached basically the same point in her development that she reaches in canon in terms of how upbeat and optimistic she’s able to be. This is just the kind of thing that can help cheer Shuichi and Maki up when they’re feeling down, and also exactly the kind of role she’d be playing in this trio in canon as they’re trying to get by and deal with their trauma in the outside world. Since this scene rather pointedly has these three together (when they’re otherwise not seen together in any other scene in this mode), it’s got to be a deliberate nod to the canon ending, so it serves to show us that this is the kind of thing Himiko would have been doing for them there, too. In this universe she’s not been specifically inspired by trying to fill Kaito’s shoes or anything, but she’s doing this anyway simply because she’s a performer and this is what her magic is all about.

Shuichi: “Hey… Kaede played a performance at Maki’s orphanage, right? Why not have Himiko do a show at the orphanage too?”

Himiko: “A show for orphans, huh? Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Aww, that would be adorable! Both Kaede and Himiko perform to make people smile, and those kids definitely deserve to smile. Also it’s lovely to see confirmation that Kaede really did end up going to Maki’s orphanage and it went off without a hitch.

Himiko: “I might even get an apprentice. How about it, Maki?”

Maki: “…I can’t imagine you as a master. I think you’re moving too fast.”

Nah, Maki, I think Himiko would be great at that. She ended up greater than her own master despite seeming to be the apprentice on the surface, so I think that makes her plenty qualified to be a master herself and train her own apprentices now.

(Since Himiko’s master actually exists in this universe, I am Very Invested in her reuniting with him one day. She needs to help him realise that having messed up in front of her one time doesn’t mean he’s failed her because she still looks up to him and cares about him even if she’s become greater than him, and he was being an Idiot to ever feel like she’d be better off without him because they are not just master and apprentice but also friends.)

Meanwhile, for Kaito’s final year event, one of his choices is obviously the most correct and worthwhile, but I’ll save the best for last. If he instead chooses to go for a walk on his own, Kaito bumps into Kokichi and has a predictably infuriating conversation with him, most of which I’m not going to bother covering, but there’s one part of it that I find interesting enough to talk about.

Kaito: “You haven’t changed a bit in these last 3 years…”

This seems at a glance just like a general way to express exasperation, but it is very like Kaito to focus on Kokichi not having changed. After all, Kaito’s watched his sidekicks grow and change so much and is generally invested in the idea of people changing as they meet and form friendships with others. But of course none of that happened to Kokichi over these three years, because, as ever, he refused to let himself change.

Kaito: “You’re still like this at your age? Doesn’t it make your parents cry? Do you even visit?”

Some very good questions! What is going on with regards to Kokichi’s parents? Did he live with them? Does he visit? Are they in the picture at all?

All questions that like hell we’re ever going to get the answers to, of course, and I don’t have nearly enough basis to bother speculating. But I do love that Kaito has thought about this. He’s trying to make some sense of why Kokichi is this way, but he’s also thinking about what Kokichi being this way must be doing to the people out there who actually unconditionally care about him.

(At least, Kaito is automatically assuming that Kokichi’s parents care about him, even though them being assholes could potentially begin to explain a few things. Apparently Kaito considers parents being decent to be the norm, which is another indication that his own parents being assholes is not the answer to why they’re not around.)

Kokichi: “Hey now, you don’t really ask the supreme leader of evil such normie questions. Also, if you wanna know my origin story, you’re gonna have to bet two lives for it.”

Kaito: “Idiot, everyone’s only got one life and there’s no way I’d waste mine on your story!”

Kokichi: “Aw maaan, how boring. If you’re not gonna bother learning the truth about me…”

Kokichi, of course, responds with some evasive insincere bullshit rather than actually be honest about himself for a second, and then acts like it’s Kaito’s fault for not caring enough to want to learn. It couldn’t possibly be that Kaito really does want to understand him better and Kokichi is just refusing to open up because of his trust issues, nope, not at all, nothing is ever Kokichi’s fault.

For the other obviously-not-correct option for his winter event, Kaito goes to the dining hall and comes across Hifumi, who just finished submitting some fan comics of his before the end of the year.

Hifumi: “The crunch time for them was difficult for even my golden hand… But as you can see, I overcame it and triumphed! I’ve raised the bar for fanfic yet again!”

Kaito: “In other words, you wanted to show your manliness, huh? Good for you!”

While I’m not entirely sure why he decided to bring it up now out of nowhere, Kaito’s concept of manliness is still not inherently gendered. He’s just talking about Hifumi giving it his all and wanting to show how good he is at what he does. It’s about being true to yourself!

Kaito: “Alright! Then next you can make a manga about me, Kaito Momota, Luminary of the Stars!”

Hifumi: “Huh? A manga about you, Mr. Momota?”

Kaito: “It’s gonna be a legendary manga! If you make it about me, it’s gonna be a global hit! Cuz it’s gonna be filled with manga-style adventure before it even gets to the space part!”

What an absolute dork. What I can only assume he means by this is that he’s going to have Hifumi manga-ify the ridiculous make-believe games he played as a kid. Obviously that’s the kind of story that everyone’s going to be able to appreciate, children and adults alike, right? And in his narration at the end of this scene, he calls this his biography, because it’s all definitely true. Oh, Kaito.

Hifumi: “Well, that aside, if I’m gonna make it… It’ll definitely be a global hit! You’ve got a good eye for talent, Mr. Momota!”

Kaito: “Of course! I’m a hero with many sidekicks!”

Kaito is citing his status as a hero with sidekicks not as part of why his story will obviously be a global hit, but as a separate thing, in terms of why he’s good at spotting talent. Because he is! His hero-and-sidekick thing is all about seeing the potential in people and bringing it out of them, and he’s so good at it!

Reflections with the sidekicks

But anyway, speaking of Kaito’s sidekicks, let’s get back to the obviously correct option for his final year event.

The stars are especially pretty tonight… What will you do?

- Take a walk with my sidekicks

Kaito’s POV is again being wonderfully Kaito – of course he’d notice that the stars are pretty. He definitely goes for walks on clear nights all the time just so that he can look up at them. Space.

(How many times do you want to bet he’s tripped over something and made a doofus of himself because he was too busy looking up at the stars to watch where he was actually going? A lot. The answer is a lot, I will accept nothing lower.)

Kaito: “You can see the stars pretty well tonight, yeah? Before long, I’ll be up there with ‘em!”

Maki: “The stars are pretty, but… is this really the only reason why you called me out this late?”

Shuichi: “He does this a lot…”

See, he does do this all the time! And what better way to enjoy the beauty of the night sky than by sharing it with his sidekicks? This isn’t even a training session; they’re just hanging out under the stars.

Shuichi: “But isn’t it kind of fun?”

Maki: “…I never said this wasn’t fun.”

And Shuichi and Maki have come to appreciate Kaito’s impromptu starlight walks too! They are friends.

Kaito: “So many things happened in the last three years after I met you guys! We did some school stuff, went to Sonia’s country during the break and solved a case!”

This is indeed another thing that happened. One of Shuichi’s friendly events is with Sonia, in which she tells him about an unsolved conspiracy causing problems among the nobles of her country that ultimately boils down to a lot of missing pets. Since that’s his area of expertise, Shuichi offers to look into it for her, and Sonia takes him up on that. This is more of him trying to help people out using his detective skills, like Kaito was encouraging him to do near the beginning!

And while Shuichi didn’t mention his friends at all during that conversation with Sonia, apparently Kaito later heard about it and invited himself and Maki along. He probably just wanted the three of them to have an adventure together, didn’t he.

Maki: “Hm, I still don’t know why I had to tag along, though.”

Kaito: “You were great at wiping out all those assassins! That’s my sidekick for you!”

Maki: “Correction. I protected us from danger and Shuichi solved the case…”

It sure sounds like they did have quite the adventure, too. Maki used her assassin skills to protect her friends! She even seems to realise this! (Kaito’s wording doeees kinda imply that, while he’s trying to gloss over it, she might have straight-up killed those enemy assassins, though. That’s a shame if so, but it was probably the only way to keep her friends safe.)

Maki: “If anything, I don’t know why you’re tagging along, Kaito.”

Shuichi: “If Kaito hadn’t invited you, Maki, then Sonia and I could have been in big trouble.”

Kaito: “Issuing orders to sidekicks is the most important job a hero has!”

Maki: “Then your job was over before we even left the country.”

Kaito was helping, you guys. His decision to bring Maki was a good call, but then he also came with them for, uh, you know, moral support! …Which probably genuinely did help them, at least a little, because Kaito is the actual best at moral support. If Maki did kill those enemy assassins, they could potentially have been the first people she’s killed since enrolling in Hope’s Peak, which might have caused a setback in her growth that Kaito would definitely have helped talk her through.

Kaito: “After graduation, when I’m in space, I’ll look for you guys from up above!”

Maki: “Huh? You’d never find us.”

Shuichi: “Ah, well, he might be able to see the approximate area…”

It’s lovely how Kaito says this even though it’s extremely unrealistic to think he could actually see them from there. He wants his sidekicks to be able to feel, even while he’s gone, that he’s watching over them from space!

(This is also a sentiment that very much applies in canon when he really is gone. He died up there in space, which means he’s still up there and watching over them from among the stars, isn’t he?)

Kaito: “And then I’ll take you guys into space one day. After all, I need my sidekicks to help me out.”

Kaito pulls this out of absolutely nowhere despite how clearly unfeasible it is. And the idea that it’s because he’d need them to help him is obviously an excuse, because that’s not what the word “sidekick” actually means to him.

Kaito just… doesn’t want to be without them for such a prolonged amount of time. He’s so positive-minded that he’d always have thought of only the good things about going to space, so his comment just a moment ago might have been the first time it’s properly occured to him that going to space does have its downsides, because he’s going to have to say goodbye to Shuichi and Maki and leave them behind for months at a time. There’ll be video chats and such, but it won’t be the same. Kaito wants to keep being with them all the time not just for their sake but for his sake, because even if he still isn’t calling them this in this AU either, they’re his best friends and he loves them to bits.

So obviously that just means that they’ve got to come to space with him too, yep, that’s definitely plausible and definitely something they’d both want, and Kaito’s not going to think about anything else.

Shuichi: “You need us to save you, Kaito?”

Maki: “Well, yeah… We’re the only ones who would do it.”

Kaito: “Hey, Shuichi, what do you mean ‘save me’!? Maki Roll, what do you mean, ‘the only ones’!? Geez, what sassy sidekicks. I gotta teach you guys some manners.”

They are the best sassy sidekicks and I love the way they’re making such affectionate jabs at him like that. He’s an idiot in some ways, but he’s their idiot and they wouldn’t have it any other way. And they really would be there for him if he actually genuinely needed help, even though they’re making it sound like a joke on the surface and Kaito is bound to be assuming that they don’t mean it as anything more than that, goddammit Kaito.

Shuichi: “…How did we end up agreeing to go into space with Kaito?”

Maki: “There’s no way it would go that smoothly. You really are all talk, Kaito.”

Kaito: “Shut it! The impossible is possible, all you gotta do is make it so! It’s already been decided!”

Bad sidekicks, stop telling Kaito it’s impossible! And, okay, technically it isn’t completely impossible for Shuichi and Maki to potentially become astronauts and go to space with Kaito if they both trained hard enough. But that’d require them to put in far more effort than they’d be willing to do just to be able to keep Kaito company in space, considering that space isn’t their passion and they have their own lives they want to lead. Of course Kaito knows this – he just doesn’t want to think about leaving them behind, and so he’s trying to use his own line to tell himself that bringing them to space with him is something he’s totally allowed to imagine happening.

Kaito: “Both of you gotta keep up your training!”

Shuichi: “I don’t know if we’ll ever end up in space, but… I’ll keep on training.”

Maki: “…If I feel like it.”

But regardless of how unrealistic the space part is, they will definitely be keeping up their training, even while Kaito’s up in space without them! Including Maki, despite that she’s acting all dismissive about it here. (She’s smiling when she says that.)

You made a promise for the future with your sidekicks…

Kaito, no, that is not what you did. They did not actually promise to come to space with you. (It’ll be okay, though! You’ll be friends with the other astronauts too, because that’s what astronauts do! And you’ll get plenty of time to see Shuichi and Maki in between missions when you’re back on Earth, and plenty of video chats from space!)

Since this scene is only available while you’re playing as Kaito, it has more of a focus on Kaito’s perspective. Of course Shuichi and Maki also each have a third year seasonal event with Kaito that I’m about to get to, and theirs focus more on their perspective, namely what Kaito’s done for them. Because that gets covered in their scenes, Kaito’s scene is free to be about what Shuichi and Maki mean to him, beyond the purely selfless sense of him being proud of how much they’ve grown – and they’re his best friends that he wants to keep hanging out with and having adventures with forever! This scene isn’t really about them as his sidekicks. They’re more to Kaito than just that, even if he still won’t actually use the word “friend”, the big doofus.

Let’s move onto Maki’s scene, then, and talk about what he’s done for her. (Both Maki and Shuichi’s scenes with Kaito are only one-on-one, so Shuichi’s not here for this.)

Kaito: “It was a lot of work taking care of you guys these past three years. You didn’t even try to talk to people in the beginning.”

Maki: “Yeah. If you hadn’t annoyed me so much with your constant pestering… I probably would have never been able to talk to Shuichi and the others so casually.”

Kaito helped her relearn how to be friends! Here is confirmation that he very much did employ copious amounts of stubborn pestering to get through to her, not that that aspect of how it happened was ever in question. Kaito is even actually more or less admitting that it was pretty hard work getting through to her – he refers to both her and Shuichi when he says that, but let’s face it, he definitely had to put in a lot more effort in Maki’s case at first.

Kaito: “You’re being pretty frank today. It seems you finally understand how great I am!”

It is unusual for Maki to be openly admitting things like this – which is also a big sign of her progress! And it’s very like Kaito to respond to her genuine expression of how much he’s done for her by being over the top about it rather than just directly, earnestly accepting it. In this instance it’s definitely not that he’s having any issues that make him not truly believe he deserves such thanks. So I guess it’s instead just due to him feeling kind of awkward when it comes to heartfelt, down-to-earth things like this, and he’s more comfortable putting on the super-awesome-hero fiction for it. (More on this in Shuichi’s scene.)

Kaito: “Or… are you sad because graduation is getting closer?”

Maki: “…Yes.”

Kaito: “…That’s a bit too frank.”

It does seem that Kaito’s also kind of awkward just thinking about generally sentimental things at all. After all, we saw in his scene that he doesn’t like thinking about the fact that he won’t be seeing his sidekicks every day any more once they graduate.

Maki: “Well, there’s no point being sentimental. It’s not like we won’t ever see each other again.”

Looks like Maki could tell that Kaito’s also feeling more sentimental than he wants to be. At least Maki is capable of being pragmatic about it even while she’s feeling sad. (Kaito would of course be capable of being as optimistic about it as he can, but for his part he doesn’t even really like to think about the sad bits in the first place if he can avoid it.)

Kaito: “Yeah… you’re right. It’ll be hard for me to see you on a daily basis after this, but… it’s not goodbye forever.”

Maki: “What do you mean, it’ll be hard?”

Kaito: “Hm? Well, because I’ll be up in space, obviously.”

Maki: “Oh, yeah… You still want to go there.”

Obviously! Keep up, Maki Roll! Don’t tell me you ever thought for a second that he wasn’t serious about going there, or that he’d change his mind one day! I’m going to instead put this reaction down her just having not quite properly thought about what that means in terms of the future of their friendship, in that he’s not going to be able to be around as much. Kind of like how Kaito himself in his scene apparently hadn’t thought about it properly until now.

Maki’s looking distant and a little sad in her last line there, and it seems like Kaito picks up on that.

Kaito: “But you’re my sidekick! If something happened to you, I’d fly back here, right away! I look out for my sidekicks! Cuz I’m a hero!”

Therefore obviously it’ll totally be possible for him to do this if Maki needed him to! Aborting a space mission on short notice in the middle of it and zooming back to Earth for personal reasons is definitely something an astronaut can do, right? This is adorably like the previous scene in which Kaito insisted they could totally come to space with him. He really does not want to think about the fact that going to space will unavoidably separate him from his sidekicks for months at a time.

While the last scene was more from Kaito’s perspective and was therefore about what he’d want – his sidekicks in space with him! – this one is reversed. This scene has been about what Kaito’s done for Maki, and her talking about that has made him focus on what she’d want. So of course he would selflessly abandon space and come right back to help her if something serious happened and she really did need him! …If only he could. His reluctance at the idea of being separated from his sidekicks is, just as you’d expect, also partly out of selflessness for their sake, in terms of him not being there to support them like the hero he’s supposed to be. Kaito can’t bear the thought of Maki needing him and him being uselessly stuck out in space, not able to help her.

(She’d be okay, though, Kaito! Maki’s got other friends too who’d be able to help her in person. And if she really did need Kaito in particular, video chats would be enough, because Kaito always helps the most with just words.)

Maki: “Huh… that again? Well… I’ll be waiting, but I won’t be expecting much…”

Maki is of course fully aware of how unfeasible these claims of Kaito’s are, but it seems, based on her wistful smile at the end, that she at least understands and appreciates how much he genuinely wants to be able to do that for her if she ever needs it. He is a hero who looks out for his sidekicks, after all, and Maki knows this, no matter how ridiculous she might think that way of wording it is.

Last but not least, Shuichi’s scene begins with him waking up early on the day of the winter closing ceremony. (This is remarkable in and of itself, considering how emphatically not a morning person Shuichi was in canon. Perhaps that was partly for mental health reasons, though, and after three years of being friends with Kaito and Kaede and working on his issues, he’s got better at waking up in the mornings.)

Thinking about only having a short time left at this academy makes you sad… And from that comes restlessness. What will you do?

- Exercise is perfect at a time like this

It’s lovely how Shuichi thinks of this entirely by himself as something that’ll improve his mood. Kaito really has taught him well!

So Shuichi heads to the school field and finds that Kaito had the same idea as him.

Kaito: “Oh, hey there bro! Are you training too?”

Shuichi: “Yeah! It’s good to sweat some things out!”

Kaito: “Right on! That’s the spirit! It’s all thanks to your training with me!”

Of course it’s all thanks to his training with Kaito! Shuichi would never have even considered doing this kind of thing to help himself if Kaito hadn’t been his friend.

Shuichi: “…You’re right. You befriended me, and encouraged me, and gave me advice… You’ve… helped me so much, Kaito…”

Kaito: “Hey, hey. What’s all that about? Don’t dampen the mood, bro.”

…But Kaito still can’t quite just earnestly accept such heartfelt gratitude. This is kind of a reverse of last scene with Maki, in which he responded to her acknowledgement of how much he’d done by being kind of flippantly over-the-top about it. This time, he started with the over-the-top “well, it’s because I’m awesome!”, but Shuichi responding with an earnest “no, you really are, thank you so much,” still managed to wrong-foot him. And again, this isn’t the canon storyline where Kaito had heaps of issues and ended up with a gaping hole in his sense of self-worth, so it’s not because he doesn’t feel like he deserves any kind of thanks at all.

It seems bizarre to be using this word for Kaito, but… he might actually be kind of modest? Sure, he’ll act over-the-top about his achievements, but it’s like he only really thinks of that as a fiction for the sake of keeping up his usual luminary image, an image that people might buy into and play along with because it’s fun and it helps encourage them, but not because they really think he’s that ridiculously amazing. If someone takes his overblown words at face value and seems to genuinely feel that they’re true, then he’ll back up and try to brush it off, because nah, he’s all right, but there’s no way he could really be quite that awesome. (You are that awesome, Kaito. At least when it comes to supporting your sidekicks.)

Shuichi: “Ah, sorry… I was just thinking about what we’ve built over the years…”

Friendship! You built the best adorablest friendship, is what you did. (Also what are you doing apologising for this, Shuichi; there is absolutely nothing wrong in telling Kaito how amazing he’s been even if he’s too much of an awkward dork to properly accept it.)

Shuichi: “If I ever find myself in trouble, I can look back at my time with you for inspiration, Kaito.”

Just like he’s also able to do in canon even though Kaito’s not there any more!

Kaito: “That’s true, but… Graduation won’t be the end for us!”

But thankfully, in this universe, Kaito is always going to be there. (Just maybe sometimes only over video chats, from space.) He doesn’t ever want their friendship to end!

Kaito: “Listen up! Even if things get tough in the future…”

Shuichi: “Don’t bear it all by yourself, right?”

Kaito: “Oh… well if you get it, then it’s all good.”

Pfft, I like how Kaito seems almost miffed that Shuichi stole his line. But it definitely is okay so long as he understands that, and evidently Kaito has told him this enough times over the years that Shuichi has that well and truly ingrained in his mind by now and already knew exactly how Kaito was going to finish his sentence.

Kaito: “When things are bad, me, Maki Roll, or Kaede will help you carry your burdens. As long as you understand that, you can get stronger.”

And it’s good to see that Kaito isn’t just focusing things on himself as the sole figure of support (after all, he wouldn’t have any reason to in this AU where he hasn’t been having massive issues). He’s happy to remind Shuichi that he has other friends as well who’ll be there to help him.

Shuichi: “The same goes for you, Kaito. If there’s anything I can help you with, just say so.”

Shuichi is also so very good. Every time Kaito says something along those lines to Shuichi, I’m always burning with the desperate urge to tell him that goes for you too, Kaito, you selfless idiot, you deserve it – so it’s really lovely and cathartic to see Shuichi actually telling him that. He’s such a caring friend and really would be more than happy to do anything for Kaito if he ever needed it.

Kaito: “Heh, now we’re talking. Of course you’d help me! I’m the hero and you’re my sidekick!”

…

*tilts head almost 180 degrees*

Who are you and what have you done with Kaito.

This is not how Kaito works. He seems to be actually acknowledging that helping the hero is one of the roles of a sidekick, but no it isn’t, not in Kaito’s definition!

Okay, so. When I was starting to think about writing these UTDP bonus posts, I had one hell of a hot take in mind for this line. That take was that the reason Kaito says this here is because in this AU, he’s not “fictional”.

As I explain in greater length in my post about Kaito’s entire character arc from my main blog, it seems reasonable to assume that Kaito’s childlike black-and-white view on heroes and sidekicks comes from the fact that he was in-universely written to be the perfect ideal hero to inspire Shuichi. It’s somewhat unrealistic to think that if Kaito had actually experienced growing up, he wouldn’t have gradually gained a more nuanced appreciation for fiction, as he started reading more complex stories containing more fallible heroes who were still capable of being inspiring not despite but because of that. So I was going to say that Kaito not being fictional in this AU and having actually grown up meant he’d been able to gain that greater understanding of what made a hero inspiring, which’d mean that Kaito’s usual double-standard about heroes simply doesn’t exist in this version of him, and therefore that he genuinely means it here when he says of course Shuichi can and should help him out too.

…Except that clearly doesn’t track with some of the other scenes in this AU, now, does it. Mostly I’m talking about the scenes with Ryoma, in which Kaito’s issues about heroes clearly still apply to Ryoma in the same way they did in canon. There’s also that one scene with Hifumi in which Kaito is quite happy to have his ridiculous childhood games made into a manga and doesn’t seem to be aware of the fact that mayyyybe a lot of people wouldn’t actually find them to be particularly compelling narratives.

And while the scene with Kaito’s phobia isn’t about the hero issue, the point I was trying to get at there is related to this. It doesn’t quite make sense that Kaito has his phobia if he’s not “fictional”, just like it maybe doesn’t quite make sense that he has this view of heroes either. But ultimately, when writing this AU, the writers just decided to keep the characters entirely as they were in V3 canon, even including the parts of them that don’t actually quite make sense if they’re not made out of Flashback Lights for Tsumugi’s story.

So never mind, scratch all that. I only brought it up because I found it an interesting concept to think about, but it’s definitely not what’s going on here. Kaito not being “fictional” in this AU is not actually why he’s willing to admit that of course Shuichi would help him out as his sidekick.

Instead, presumably the reason Kaito is saying this here is that… he doesn’t really mean it, the idiot. It is at least not quite as bad as in canon where he knows full well he already has problems and is consciously lying when he insists that he’d totally ask for help if he needed it. Here, it’s more just that he’s never expecting he will need help and so he’ll never have to actually think about whether or not this claim is really true. Ultimately, it’s easier for him to just casually claim this here, because the alternative is being all “oh but I won’t need your help!”, which’d just make him sound like he doesn’t even appreciate Shuichi’s willingness to be there for him.

I do like to believe, though, that whenever Kaito does run into some kind of trouble in future in this AU (and I say “when” not “if” because nobody can ever go through life without having at least some problems here and there), he’ll actually be able, with Shuichi and Maki’s prodding and reassurance, to admit it and ask for help. Without the stress of the killing game making Kaito tunnel-vision into the fact that he needs to keep supporting his sidekicks and that the only thing that matters is how much of a difference he can make to everyone’s survival, I think he’d be a lot less completely and utterly averse to acknowledging weakness. Plus, hopefully his astronaut training will drill it into him that part of good communication is telling your teammates when there’s something wrong with you, because holy crap is it only going to make things way worse not just for you but for everyone involved if you don’t, you moron. And the more Shuichi and Maki grow and the less obviously they need his help and support most of the time, the more Kaito will come to consciously see them not just as his sidekicks but as his friends, and friends can open up to each other about anything.

One way or another, Kaito is bound to eventually realise what an idiot he’s being and overcome these issues of his. He just needs to live for long enough to get that far.

Kaito: “Alright then… wanna run for a while? Better hurry, or you’ll be eating my dust!”

Shuichi: “Ah, hey! No fair, Kaito!”

Working up a good sweat, you chased Kaito all the way to homeroom.

Aaaaa look at them racing each other off into the sunrise. They are friends and they are going to live happily ever after. Kaito is going to go to space multiple times under normal circumstances and come back alive each time, and also one day learn not to be a hypocrite about asking people for support. Shuichi is going to start his own detective agency where he exclusively takes on jobs that involve helping people and continue to have confidence in his talent in between relying on his friends for help when he needs to.

And Maki… I refuse to accept that she’s just going to have to go back to killing people in this universe when she’s come so far; that is Not Okay. Either Hope’s Peak really is going to somehow absolve her of being an assassin as part of its “set for life” policy, or Kaito and Shuichi are going to do something about it. Maki may still try to claim that assassins are necessary and therefore that totally justifies her being an assassin – there’s no real evidence in this AU that she quite got over that part of her issues – but Kaito would be having none of that. So Shuichi’s first job as a full-fledged detective may have to be to find evidence of her assassin cult’s awful deeds and report it to some kind of authorities that can take it down and take custody of all the kids from the orphanages and give all the other child-slave assassins some goddamn therapy because the rest of them don’t have a Kaito. Then Maki can rid herself of her awful past forever and get a normal job, maybe as an actual child caregiver, where she never has to think about killing anyone ever again and can live a relatively happy life after everything she’s been through, because I say so.

I just love these three so so so much and want them to get to be happy and keep being adorable friends for the rest of their lives, because they’re the best and they deserve it. So I’m glad we have this AU where nothing particularly drastic goes wrong at all, everyone is fully real, and their adorable friendships are still there like in canon, so that there’s at least one world in which we can imagine that they really are going to be okay.

#danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #drv3 #ndrv3 #bonus content #ultimate talent development plan #commentary

16 notes · View notes

hphm-etched-engraved-everlasting · 5 years ago

Text

4. Em

Author’s Note/Table of Contents

For a kid who had grown up almost like an only child in the family, I should have been able to go through a day without any problems at all. However, I realized that there were much worse things that could happen to even the most unwary, and to come away with a bleeding nose at the end of the day was just the cherry on top to the worst first day of school in history.

First off, breakfast was sheer chaos. I barely got my food on the plate when it was upended by none other than Peeves the Poltergeist, who kept whizzing around over my head while I tried to grab more food to eat in peace. Then I somehow ended up causing an explosion in the middle of Charms Class while we were supposed to be learning Lumos, the wand-lighting charm. I had no friends to eat with at lunch time, and to top it all off, Eunice Ahn from Slytherin jinxed my broom before my first flying class of the year, resulting in my broom giving me more than just one painful bash in the face. Eventually the hard wood slapped me so hard in the nose that blood began to trickle out at the end of class, turning into a downpour by the time I reached the Great Hall again for dinner.

Luckily, I didn't have to wait long for company at the Hufflepuff table this time.

"Wotcher--whoa, you alright?" Tonks asked as she approached the table, running towards me the minute she saw me plugging my nose with the sleeves of my robes. "What happened?"

"Jinxed broom," I responded thickly through the blood. "Eunice Ahn jinxed it before class, so it kept hitting me in the face when I tried to summon it. It eventually got me hard on the nose."

Seconds later, the girl with the silver hair--Chiara--rushed over and pulled out her wand.

"No worries, I can help you get it fixed," she said, gently removing the sleeve and pointing her wand at my nose. "Episkey!"

For a moment, I felt something really cold, then something really hot, over my nose, and I winced at the pain. When it was all done, though, it felt better. I gingerly touched it, shocked at how quickly it mended. "Wow. Thank you, Chiara."

"No problem. I'm working to become a Healer when I graduate, so I'd like to get as much practice in while I can here," Chiara explained with a smile, sitting down beside me.

"At least you got it better than me," Tonks said with a laugh. "I'm dead clumsy, so I get banged up so easily in Flying Class even without a jinxed broom. I got more bruises and nosebleeds than I could count. Things'll get better, Em--you'll see!"

It was hard to find that peaceful moment after such a heck of a day, but I had to believe that Tonks was right. I nodded solemnly as I took a bite out of the first sandwich I got, chewing slowly as the taste of chicken and mayonnaise spread over my tongue like glue, sticking fast to my teeth. Nothing like the taste of home to put me at slight ease.

Eventually, as I finished my fill, Clara burst in the Great Hall, and ran right to where I was sitting, completely disregarding the tuts of a few students glaring at her in disapproval.

"I heard you got a nosebleed in flying class, Em," she said, sitting beside me. "Are you alright?"

I nodded, rubbing my nose slightly. "Yeah. Chiara managed to mend it just fine, so don't worry."

"Alright." Clara nodded as she took a sandwich from the Hufflepuff table and began to munch on it with me. "If you don't mind, I would like to take you to see Ben. I just found him in the Artefact Room just now...and he's not in a good position right now."

That does not sound good. I've heard stories of Ben Copper--the scared Muggle-born Gryffindor who would only accept a challenge with so little confidence and a face that said scared tot. Though he helped my sister with the first curse at the school--the curse where ice flooded the school--he was still frightened by everything out of the ordinary. At least, until he went to the buried vault with my sister and shut everyone out after.

"Ah." I nodded thoughtfully again and watched as Clara stuffed the sandwich in her mouth. "Well, I would still like to meet him, if that's okay."

"I was the one who asked you if it was fine. If you say it is, then let's go," Clara eventually said as she drained a goblet of pumpkin juice.

The two of us said goodbye to Tonks and Chiara, and we slowly walked out of the Great Hall to a dark room Clara said was the Artefact Room. The minute we entered, I automatically plugged my nose, a strange sensation arising within me threatening me to puke out what little dinner I ate. I've never been in a sewer before, but if I had, it would smell just like this--a strong stench of mothballs and unwashed feet and mouldy cheese thrown into the mix. Standing in the middle of said room, surprisingly not affected by the stink, was a Gryffindor boy about Clara's age, with blonde hair and a long face, holding a slightly deformed skull in one hand and contemplating over it as if it were an interesting specimen.

"That's Ben?" I whispered to my sister. "He does not sound like the boy you described him as."

"That's because he isn't," Clara whispered back. "He's changed since the last Vault."

She stepped up to him now and looked at him quizzically. "Ben. What are you doing?"

"What do you think I can get for this skull in Knockturn Alley?" he said in a calm voice.

Instantly, Clara’s eyebrows furrowed in suspicion, and I glanced over at Ben again. Somehow he didn’t seem to notice her skeptical glance. The tension in the air was starting to thicken the longer I looked at them.

"That's what you wanted to ask me?"

"Yes. What could I get, if I were to make a trade?"

"Why would you want to trade a skull?"

"Hmm, so you're no help. Perhaps I should ask Jae Kim instead."

"That skull isn't even yours! You can't just take it!"

"Sure I can--unless you plan to stop me?"

"Of course I would! Stealing artefacts that aren't yours to trade in a place that normally scares you out of your wits--Ben, have you gone mad?"

"Au contraire, Clara, it's rare that I think so clearly."

I looked from Clara to Ben, almost as if they were in a tennis match, my sleeve still plugged to my nose to block out the smell. I know I've only heard about Ben through her stories, but this was not the Ben she told me he was. It was almost as if he'd stripped away the one emotion that made everyone human and became...less human. I couldn't tell whether he was really saying this to blow Clara off and bluff his newfound confidence, or whether he was genuinely feeling that way. Either way, I wasn't sure I'd want to be his friend if I had the option.

"Ben, what's happened to you?" Clara demanded. "You weren't at the Welcome Feast--I would have introduced you to my sister if you were there--"

"What does it matter? She's here now, isn't she, and in a different house, too." Ben took one look at me and stared, long and hard, at the yellow badger crest on my robes--completely different from the scarlet lion one on his, and Clara's, robes. "I guess I shouldn't have kept my expectations high for the baby Lin."

"That's really rude, Ben. Little Em had been looking forward to meeting you--"

"Yeah, okay. Hello. I'm Ben. In Gryffindor. Like Clara." His voice hinted at the annoyance and impatience that I wasn't used to hearing in my entire life--even after my parents fought for countless days over Jacob. "Well, what did you expect me to say, Clara? I wouldn't even have wanted to see her even if I was at the Welcome Feast. That stuff's for kids."

"We are kids, Ben!" Clara protested, folding her arms.

"Really. After all the horrors we've seen? Perhaps you and your sister are. But I'm not." Ben shook his head in disdain at me and turned back to my sister. "I told you when we last talked at the Hog's Head Inn that I was vowing to make myself a new person."

So it was mentioned after all between the two of them--and at least I knew that Clara was not kidding me. Something seemed to have punctured between the both of them, and I stepped back, sitting down on the ground cross-legged, with my sleeves still over my nose, while Clara and Ben continued their argument.

"You can't just make yourself an adult over the summer, though!" Clara said.

"Yeah, I knew that. But I've made myself stronger. After this summer, I'm like a new Ben."

I had to agree with Clara there. Resolve wouldn't come in just the snap of the fingers. It would take a long process to change someone--even if the trigger to do so seemed instantaneous. My eyes darted once more between Clara and Ben, my heart pounding in my chest as if someone was deliberately hammering it to something so fine, so fragile.

"Well, I don't like 'new Ben' so far," Clara decided.

"That's too bad!"

"You're being really rude! You don't even care about my sister!"

"Well, it's better than being timid and scared all the time, I'll tell you that much."

"And what exactly did you do to become...this person you are now?" I asked finally, my voice muffled through my sleeves.

Ben eventually turned to me and raised an eyebrow. "You really want to know? I'll tell you both, then."

And so he did. Clara kept insisting that she wrote notes to him, even sent them with her owl Wagner, but he constantly brushed that aside. He only told us how he had tested the speed limits of his broom, spent time in Borgin and Burkes, and left this Sickleworth character alone to fend for himself. For some reason, that seemed to really set Clara off, and she looked like she was about to scream.

"Ben, I have no idea what to say," Clara finally said. "Your confidence is almost..."

"Dangerous?" Ben finished expectantly.

"Yes!" we both exclaimed.

"It wasn't so long ago that reading a book about wild Nifflers was your idea of bravery," Clara added, scratching her head.

"Oh, I remember that day with you and Charlie in the library," Ben said. "You were talking about dragons. He thought it would scare me. It's not his fault, though--people treat you differently when they assume you're afraid. Treat you like you're made of glass, instinctively want to protect you..."

"What's wrong with letting your friends protect you?" I inquired quietly, not daring to speak up in case I made things worse. "Or protecting your friends, for that matter?"

"Nothing! That's my point. I want to be the protector now," Ben answered. "And as far as making assumptions go...I don't want anyone to assume anything about me anymore."

"There's little chance of that," Clara piped up, shaking her head. "Even I can't seem to figure you out right now."

"What Rakepick did to us in that Cursed Vault...that kind of cruelty and betrayal by an adult we both trusted...it was like nothing I've ever experienced. And you've been changed by it too, Clara, whether you realize it or not."

Changed, my sister? Of course she'd know. I could tell she's changed after she got home for the summer--always shutting herself in her room, resorting to writing and playing music to retain her sanity without losing her mind. I heard her screaming in her sleep. I was just surprised she still managed to keep it together at all.

"But honestly? I think I may have changed for the better," Ben continued. "And if you really want to help someone, focus on someone who's changed for the worse."

"What? Who's changed for the worse?"

"See for yourself. She's likely trying to shred training dummies at the Training Grounds right now..."

#here's chapter 4 #technically it's still chapter 1 in the game #we're going to split this a lot so #bear with me #hphm #hogwarts mystery #hphm ben copper #hphm clara lin #hphm em lin #cursed vaults #year 6 spoilers #hphm spoilers #etched engraved everlasting

2 notes · View notes

atc74 · 6 years ago

Text

It’s Always the Quiet Ones

Square Filled: First Kiss

Warnings: Shirtless!Sam, oral sex (fem receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex (be smart kids), swearing, drinking, sexting

Summary: Y/N needs some help in her yard and Sam, a quiet coworker offers his assistance.

Pairing: Sam x Reader AU

Word Count: 2786

Written for: @spnaubingo

Beta’d by: the incomparable @evansrogerskitten, my continual smut-spiration. No writer was harmed, or contracted ecoli, during the writing or editing of this fic.

You stood at your kitchen sink, filling a pitcher with water to make a fresh batch of lemonade. The temperature was just over ninety degrees already and it was only two in the afternoon. You watched in awe as the man in your backyard shed his shirt, revealing a smooth chest, slick with sweat and a tattoo you didn’t expect. This nice, shy guy who you barely knew anything about was half naked, trimming the overgrown brush and weeds at the edge of your property. As you stood there, you felt the temperature begin to rise even higher, until the cold water ran over your hand and you realized you were staring.

Shaking your head to clear the unclean thoughts, you remeasured the water and returned to the task. You taste tested the final result rather pleased with yourself. You carried the lemonade outside and placed it on the table along with two glasses. You raised the umbrella to provide a bit of shade and a respite from the burning rays of the midday sun.

“Hey, come take a break. I made lemonade!” you yelled from the deck and his head snapped up, a smile on his face.

You let your eyes rake over his lean form as he used his discarded shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow. He approached the wooden structure, taking the steps slowly; he looked tired. “Have I told you how much I appreciate you doing this for me, Sam? There are probably a hundred other things you could be doing with your Saturday.”

“Hey, I told you before, I don’t mind. I like doing manual labor; keeps my mind clear. By the way, thank you the lemonade, but could I trouble you for a cold beer?” A smile spread across his handsome face as he took a seat at the table, sighing in relief of being in the shade.

“It’s no trouble at all,” you replied, slipping back into the house, returning moments later with two beers, handing one over to him.

“Sam, do you know that I have known you for almost four years, yet know almost nothing about you?” You took the first pull off the beer and damn, did it taste good. “Beer taste so much better on a hot day.”

“Um, yeah. I don’t share much, do I? I’m just shy, but ask the questions you want to know the answers to,” Sam smiled.

“No, you don’t. You’re kinda quiet and reserved, but I think you like to have a good time. I know you are in your thirties, but are still younger than me and we’re practically neighbors. I don’t know what I want to know, so just tell me a few things about yourself,” you laughed.

The thing is, you were attracted to this quiet man. You had been for a few years now, but had always kept it to yourself for one reason or another. The other main reason, being that you had been married. You were not married anymore, but finding eligible men that you were attracted to was harder than you remember it being. But you worked with this man. Was that a good idea?

“So I have a brother, I love sports. I have a teenage son; it didn’t work out with his mother and I, but that was a long time ago. I enjoy relaxing weekends and cold beer and I like you,” Sam looked up from peeling the label on his beer and looked you in the eye.

You almost choked on the beer you had just taken a sip from. “Wh-what?”

“I’m sorry. I’m shy and I wanted to say something, but it never seemed like the right time. But I do,” he admitted, a blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Confession time?” You looked into the hazel eyes you had wondered about for so long. “I like you, too.”

You and Sam spent the next couple of hours looking out over your lawn and drinking beer. Sam stood, shaking out his shaggy locks. “I should really go. I’ll drink too much, then say too much, and I won’t want to leave.”

“Okay, drive safe and thank you again for helping me with the yard,” you stood to walk him out and he drive away. It didn’t matter, you would see him on Monday. At least this was progress; you had learned more about him in three hours, than you had in the almost four years you had worked together.

Thirty minutes later, you were stepping out of the shower when a new notification came in on your phone. It was Sam.

Sam: “Btw, did I tell you I think you’re sexy?”

You: “No, but I like your opinion…”

You smiled to yourself as you got dressed, not expecting his message at all. Then your phone dinged again.

Sam: “And your tattoos are hot!”

You: “Thank you, Sam. I like yours, too.”

Sam: “Can I ask you a question? When was the last time you were good and fucked?”

Now that took you by surprise. It’s always the quiet ones.

You: “Long enough. Are you drunk?”

Sam: “Drunk enough. I bet you taste good.”

Now you were the one blushing. Sure, you were attracted to him and you both had admitted that you liked each other. This escalated rather quickly, but you can’t say you were disappointed. It was going to be hard to hold in your personality with this one, so as not to scare him off.

You: “I do”

Sam: “Oh fuck”

You: “Goodnight Sam.”

The rest of your weekend passed quickly but calmly, spending a quiet Sunday reading. You didn’t give your text conversation with Sam another thought until you ran into him at work the following week.

“I can come by Friday after work and finish off that brush for you,” Sam offered.

“That would be great, Sam. I really appreciate it,” you said graciously. “Could I repay you with dinner?”

“Yeah, after a hard day’s work, I could eat,” Sam laughed and you parted ways. “I’ll see you Friday then.”

You left work a little early, stopping for groceries before going home. You chose a couple of nice New York strip steaks, some fresh veggies and a bottle of wine. Arriving home, you washed the vegetables in the sink only to look out the window to see Sam already hard at work in your yard, shirtless. You set the steaks off the side to come to room temperature, then quickly chunked the vegetables to grill, mixing them with some olive oil and light seasoning, then tossed them in the icebox before snagging a beer and heading outside to greet Sam.

“Did you work at all today?” You joked, handing him the beer and a towel.

“A little; the perks of ‘working from home’,” he air quoted with one hand, taking a sip from the beer.

“Let me get changed and I can give you a hand. I feel bad that you are doing all this work for me and I am not even really helping,” you commented. You couldn’t help but stare at the way his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he drained what was left of the beer.

“It’s good for me. Besides, no need for both of us to be all hot and sweaty,” Sam set his empty bottle on the table, winking at you before he turned back to the yard.

‘Oh sweet baby Jesus! Did he, Sam, just throw a sexual innuendo at me?’ you thought. You were suddenly quite warm, despite not doing anything. Well, if you count not staring at Sam’s half naked body in your yard.

Once in the safety of your bathroom, you splashed some cold water on your face, hoping to hell it would help cool you off some. Drying your face, you wandered into your room, pulling your work clothes off and looking for a pair of shorts and a tank top. You dressed quickly and laced up your tennis shoes in time to help Sam carry the remaining brush to the ever growing pile.

“I’ll have to have one heck of a bonfire once this is all dry!” you exclaimed.

“It sounds like a good time. I’ll be here,” Sam confirmed.

“It looks great, Sam. If it wasn’t for you, it’d look like I lived in a forest,” you complimented the hard work he had put in.

“It was nothing, Y/N,” Sam shrugged, slipping his shirt back on.

“Hey, why don’t I go round up some more beers, if you don’t mind getting the grill started?” You looked to Sam for confirmation. “The charcoal briquettes are in the shed.”

“For some reason I pegged you for a gas type of girl,” Sam smiled.

“Depends on what’s cooking and how hungry I am!” you laughed. “But tonight, no way am I putting New York strips on gas!”

Within a few minutes, you had the vegetables ready in the grill skillet and the steaks were seasoned, waiting to go on the grill, when Sam stepped into your kitchen from the sliding door.

“This looks amazing, Y/N,” Sam declared, setting his beer down on the counter. “What can I help you with?”

“You have done enough, Sam,” you said, grabbing some romaine to toss a quick salad. “Please just let me make you dinner to repay you.”

“I could think of a few other ways you could repay me,” Sam smirked looking you right in the eyes.

You felt that now familiar flush. It started with your face, creeping down your neck and into your chest. You felt it flow over your breasts, to your stomach and settling in your core. Just the thought of Sam’s hands on you had your panties turning damp.

“Yeah?” it was you could manage to say.

“Those strips look delicious, but I am willing to bet you taste better,” he slowly made his way around the island, stopping in front you.

“Hmmm,” you grunted, still not breaking eye contact.

“Those coals should take at least thirty minutes,” he theorized. “That should be more than enough time for me for me to make you come on my tongue...at least twice, possibly three times.”

“Oh Jesus,” you whimpered at the thought.

Sam’s hand grabbed your hips, pulling your shorts down and effortlessly lifting you onto the island. Your hands reached into his hair, pulling him closer to you, and you crashed your lips to his. The kiss was heated, heavy and perfect. The months of tension between the two of you, fading into that one perfect first kiss. Your tongues danced around each other, sliding, gliding, fighting for dominance. You tilted your head, deepening it as Sam reached down and with one hand, ripped your panties from your body.

Your parted from Sam, gasping at the realization that it was really going to happen.

“God, I can’t wait to taste you, Y/N,” Sam mumbled, his lips against the soft skin of your neck as he trailed kisses down your front.

Your hands remained tangled in his hair, the locks just long enough to provide purchase for what was coming as he dropped to his knees in front of you, his face now perfect level with your center. The kisses continued along the flesh of your inner thigh, then the other. Sam skipped over your mound.

He had barely touched you and you were already breathing heavy. The sheer lightness of his touch, the barely there breath of him tickling your skin as he made his way everywhere, except where he knew you wanted him.

“Sam,” his name was a breath on your lips. “Please.” You didn’t know if you were begging, pleading or praying he would give you want you wanted. What you needed. It had been too long and he felt too good.

“Say it, Y/N. Tell me what you want,” Sam’s breath ghosted over your mound, teasing you.

“Touch me, Sam. Taste me. Make me come,” you sang, finally feeling the wet muscle of his tongue dip through your sodden folds.

“You taste so good...better than I imagined,” Sam hummed his appreciation of your flavor, his words vibrating through you, twisting and turning.

“Oh God! Sam! Fuck!” The ripple, lapping at the edges of fantasy, quickly surging through the barrier, your orgasm breaking as you crested. You fingers wrapped tighter in Sam’s hair, pressing his face, flush against your sopping mound, prolonging your pleasure as you rode the waves.

“I can’t wait for dinner, Y/N. I need to be inside you,” Sam announced. “The next time you come, it’s going to be on my cock and I can’t wait to see you come undone around me.”

He scooped his hands under your ass, lifting you off the counter. You wrapped your legs around his waist, hands still in his hair. Between fevered kisses and nips to the exposed skin of his throat, you directed him down the hall to your bedroom.

He dropped you unceremoniously in the middle of your bed, where you quickly shed your remaining clothing, watching, staring in awe as he stripped himself bare. Your breath hitched in your throat as he stood naked and proud before you. His cock, beautiful and curved, thick and long, hung heavy and flushed between his legs. Sam was a perfect specimen of the male anatomy. More than that, he was naked and horny and wanted you.

In one fluid motion, he was on top of you, pinning you to the mattress, hands on either side of your head. “I’m gonna fuck you till neither one of can see straight.”

Wrapping one leg around his hip, ou used it for leverage, flipping Sam to his back, as you straddled him. His thick cock, trapped by the succulent lips of your pussy, gliding over him and slicking him up. “I’ll go first.” You rocked your hips started back and forth, tilting just enough that his tip caught at your entrance on your downswing. The initial breach had you holding your breath, hands braced on his chest for balance. “Fuck, Sam. God you’re so big!”

His large hands on your hips gripped tightly. You rocked again, taking him in a little further each time, until he was fully seated. “Christ, you’re so fucking tight, Y/N.” He breathed out, trying to center his energy so as not to lose it like a fucking teenager.

As pleasure starting flitting through you, you began to move. Forward and back, creating a rhythm. You clenched down around him with each drag of his cock on your inner walls. Turning into a steady beat, Sam’s hips rose up off the bed, meeting you stroke for stroke. His grip tightening, pulling and pushing.

“Fuck Sam!” you screamed, your vision filling with spots as your orgasm burst the seams. “Fuck!” You fell forward, your arms no longer able to hold yourself up.

Sam held you tightly to him, quickly flipping you under him. His strong arms grabbed behind your legs, pushing your knees up. He planted his own in the mattress and picked up the pace, pounding away. The sweat rolled down his face, nis neck, dripping down his chest as he fucked into you. “Oh Christ. I’m gonna come.”

“Come Sam,” you cried, digging your fingers into the firm muscle of his forearms.

“Ahhhhhhh!” Sam let loose, hips stuttering and slamming home one more time. “Fuck!”

You clenched your walls around him, milking him for all he was worth, Sam collapsing, mostly on top you. Your breaths were heavy, ragged.

“Wow,” Sam murmured, his lips sliding over the sweat slicked skin of your shoulder. “That was spectacular!”

“Yeah, it was,” you echoed.

“Think the grill’s ready yet?” Sam inquired. “I’m starving!”

“Yeah, I think we worked up an appetite alright,” you agreed, giggling slightly.

“What’s so funny?” Sam raised his head and met your eyes.

“I thought you were so mild, but just proves it’s always the quiet ones that surprise you,” you surmised, leaning in to kiss him. It was just as hot as the first kiss.

The Whole Enchilada: @closetspngirl @emoryhemsworth @iwantthedean @meganwinchester1999 @sis-tafics @wilde-abandon @wegoddessofhell @holyfuckloueh @horsegirly99blog @smoothdogsgirl @dolphincliffs @thisismysecrethappyplace @neeadinghugs @roxyspearing @theoriginalvicki @andkatiethings @mrswhozeewhatsis @linki-locks11 @evansrogerskitten @hennessy0274-blog @hobby27 @kdfrqqg @gh0stgurl @charliebradbury1104 @blacktithe7 @the--blackdahlia @fortisetgloriosusinarduis @roseblue373 @hannahindie @pinknerdpanda @paintrider13-blog @cherrycokegirls1

The Sam Sin-dicate: @supernatural-jackles @cameronbraswell @squirrel-moose-winchester @amanda-teaches @deansgirl215 @x-waywardaf-x @alleiradayne

@stusbunker @mereka18 @wi-deangirl77

#spnaubingo #sam winchester x reader au #sam winchester #sam winchester au #sam x reader #sam x reader au #sam winchester smut #supernatural au #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #spn fanfiction #spn au fanfic

401 notes · View notes

fresh-outta-jams · 6 years ago

Text

Red Ballet Shoes

Red Ballet Shoes Taehyung x Reader Soulmate AU

Author: Admin Mo Sequel to Red Ribbons (Link in Masterlist) Word Count: 3.2k Genre: Fluffy soulmate fluff

It was the week before the big recital and nerves were high in your dance studio. You had been practicing your pointe routine endlessly for days and days and days. You had choreographed it yourself, and it was a piece called Red Ribbon. The inspiration for it was quite obvious to anyone who knew you.

Not only were you nervous about showing the routine to the rest of the studio, the local dance connoisseurs, and the dozens of dance schools that sent their kids to watch the performances, there was going to be someone very special in that audience: Kim Taehyung.

Your soulmate was truly the sweetest, kindest, handsomest, funniest man you’d ever met and you truly didn’t understand how you had gotten so lucky. Not only did you get to FaceTime him almost every single day, you were one of the lucky souls who could do a quick Google search and stumble upon hundreds of hours of content dedicated to him. So any time you missed him or wanted to see his face or hear his voice, all you had to do was pull out your phone. It was great.

Tae was set to come in the next day, and so you were at your studio, running through your routine again. And again. And again. Until Rachel found you agonizing and dragged you to one of the other rooms where your friends were goofing off between practice sessions. They had snacks and Vitamin Water and some good tunes, and that was really all it took to help you unwind.

You took a sip of some Vitamin Water and relaced your pointe shoes. They had started a pirouette contest and you were going to show them you weren’t here to play around, especially when it came to spins.

You walked over to the phone playing music, unplugged it, and plugged your own into the speaker instead. Your new hobby as of late was practicing your spins to music that wasn’t...typically ballet music. Something with a chill beat. Today, as it was usually, this song was Cypher Pt.4, a favorite of Tae’s. It had actually been his suggestion.

One of the girls counted Veronica’s spins and Rachel counted yours. As soon as you started, you knew it was a good spin, and you used your leg to propel yourself around and around and around, your head snapping back to a single spot on the mirror every time to keep out the dizziness. After taking ballet for so long, it was sort of effortless to turn like this.

Your only falter came when the door opened and you looked up to find the end of your golden ribbon. Tae had come early. He watched in awe as you spun around and around to the music playing in the background. Finally, Veronica stopped, and you gave a little flourish before putting your second foot back on the ground.

It took you a second, but you found your center of balance again and the world stopped spinning. Tae closed the space between you and locked his pinkie with yours, just like he did the first time, resting his forehead against yours.

“You’re early.” You whispered, a smile on your face.

“I wanted to surprise you.” He grinned proudly, that adorable boxy smile of his coming out of hiding.

“It worked.” You let go of his pinkie and threw your arms around his neck. He hoisted you off of the ground and spun you around. “Woah, dizzy.”

“Sorry.” He apologized and stopped spinning you, instead, just holding you there with your legs dangling above the floor.

You laughed. It wasn’t any secret that he was very fond of your height difference and let you know every chance he got. “Taaae.” You giggled, kicking your legs.

“You’re so short.” he laughed.

“Y’all are too cute.” Rachel hid her mouth behind her hand. “How’s Hobi doing?”

“Wow, I wonder who your bias is.” Veronica chuckled, rolling her eyes.

“He’s in Disney World.” Tae replied, finally setting you back on the ground. “With his soulmate.”

“Sounds fun.” Veronica smiled. She thought for a moment and then her face lit up. “(Y/N), you should show him your routine!”

“Which one?” You asked. “Because I want the pointe routine to be a surprise until he sees it for real.”

“We can run the hip hop routine.” Rachel waggled her eyebrows and then took a quick headcount. “I think everyone is here anyway.”

“Yeah, let’s do it.” You grinned. You led Tae over to the chairs in the front of the room, against the mirrors and he sat down, looking up at you for once. You kissed his forehead and put your hands on his shoulders. “Wait right here.”

As soon as you had your pointe shoes swapped for your tennis shoes and sweatpants thrown over your tights and leotard, Rachel connected her phone to the speaker and turned on the music. You fell into formation and watched Tae’s reaction as Not Today began to play. You channeled your inner V, summoning all of the courage and confidence that you could, and it definitely paid off.

His eyes were glued to your every move, watching you recreate the dance he had spent hours and hours and hours learning and performing. And he couldn’t help but smile the biggest, proudest smile you had ever seen. As soon as you were finished, he stood up and scooped you into his arms.

“Wooooah!” was all Tae could manage to get out. He didn’t know what else to say. You had danced so well, and he was so happy that he was finally here with you again.

“That good, huh?” You laughed, still held tight in his strong arms.

“So good! Amazing!” He pulled away and looked at you, his brown eyes bright and sparkling. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You smiled and slipped your hand into his. “How about I get changed and then we can go to the Riverwalk and have some fun?”

“Riverwalk?”

“It’s like an amusement park by the beach.” Rachel explained.

Tae’s face lit up. “Yeah, let’s go!”

***

It was very sunny and warm outside. Truly, a beautiful day, made even more beautiful by the fact that Tae’s large hand was wrapped around your own. The two of you, along with some of your friends, had made your way to the Riverwalk for a fun day before the recital. It did your nerves good.

Tae ended up being very good at the game where you have to knock down bottles and as a result, you each had more stuffed animals than you could carry. Tae gave a bunch of them to the kids nearby that weren’t having much luck at winning anything, that soft look on his face. He loved kids, and you loved how much he loved kids. It really warmed your heart.

Rachel took the rest of the stuffed animals back to your car, and as the sun went down, the lights came on, a different sort of night energy settled over the Riverwalk. Somehow, the darkness made the place seem brighter. The stars, the moon, and the universe stretched out above you, fate looking down on you with its wise eyes. A million light bulbs illuminated every ride, booth, and game, casting warmth on Tae’s handsome features and lighting up his brilliant smile.

You found a photo booth at some point, and snapped some goofy pictures. God, he made the funniest faces. You couldn’t stop cracking up, and so the pictures came out really cute.

You had some elephant ears and cotton candy, sharing each of them with each other, and then you stood in front of it. The Ferris Wheel. Tae looked up, up, up to the top of it, fear etched deep into his features. It was your favorite ride, but you definitely weren’t going to force him up there. Rachel, on the other hand…

“Isn’t that your favorite, (Y/N)?” She asked.

“Favorite?” Tae asked quietly, his eyes still glued to the tall circular death trap.

“We don’t have to ride it, Tae. It’s fine, really.” You squeezed his hand to remind him you were still there.

He had completely zoned out, and for a second there, you thought he had fallen asleep standing. But he eventually moved, tilting his head slightly as he repeated, “favorite?”

“Are you okay?” You asked, genuinely concerned that you had broken him with the mere idea of going up to the top of that thing.

“I can do it.” He stated suddenly, looking down at you. “Let’s do it.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” He pulled you over to the line for the Ferris Wheel and before you knew it, you were stepping up into the carriage. Tae was smiling brightly. Until it started moving. And then his eyes widened and he froze.

You grabbed his hand tight, giving it a squeeze and willing all of the warmth and love that you could through the golden ribbon that connected you. Slowly, he came out of his trance, blinking a few times and looking around at the bright beautiful amusement park. He smiled at you and let go of your hand, wrapping an arm around you instead.

The ride was beautiful. You could see everything from the top of the wheel, the waves reflecting the bright full moon. Everything was perfect. Until it stopped, that is.

The car rocked as it came to a halt at the very top, and all of Tae’s relaxed energy evaporated in moments.

“AAH!” He shouted, trapping you in a death grip.

“They’re just unloading it, Tae. It’s okay.” You spoke gently, reassuringly. Then, an idea dawned on you. “You know, there’s kind of a tradition when you get stuck at the top of a Ferris Wheel.”

“Hmm?” He still had his arms wound tight around your frame.

“Couples...um...well, sometimes, they…”

He pulled away to look at you, curiosity laced into his fear. And then recognition registered, and his expression softened. Slowly, he leaned in, closing the gap between you. When he kissed you, it was like fireworks erupting in the night sky. Everything about it was magical. Goosebumps prickled your arms, heart racing, lips moving in time with his. Your touch soothed him. It warmed him in ways only a soulmate could and chased even his deepest fears back into the shadows where they belonged.

It was the best first kiss any girl could ask for.

“What do you think purple means?” You asked softly, looking at the thread attaching your pinkie to Tae’s. It had changed colors once again, shedding its glowing gold for a regal shade of violet.

His large hand stroked your cheek, sparkling brown eyes locking on yours as he wrapped his long pinkie around yours. “I think it means I’m in love with you.”

***

“Okay, this is going to look really weird, so don’t judge.” You pulled your bucket full of ice over to the couch.

Tae raised an eyebrow, looking up from his phone. He was spending the night at your place, and this was really the first time anyone who wasn’t in your dance class had seen you do your night routine. As he watched curiously, you stuck your legs into the freezing bucket. You shivered, but the cold was good for your muscles and you knew it, no matter how much the ice felt like it was eating your skin away.

“Why would I judge you?” He asked, laughing. “I’m weirder than you are.”

“Maybe that’s why I love you so much.” You moved your hand around, causing the glowing purple thread to wave between you.

“You look cold.”

“I am.” Your teeth began chattering as the ice finally settled in.

Tae stood up from the couch and took your hands, bringing you to your feet. Carefully, he scooted you forward and stepped behind you, grabbing a blanket from the large basket sitting beside the sofa. He sat where you had been sitting moments before and opened up his arms, extending the blanket like angel’s wings.

You sat down in his lap and he swaddled you in the blanket like a soulmate burrito, cuddling you close and kissing your forehead. Even with your legs in a literal bucket of ice, somehow, you felt warmer than you ever had.

“T-T-Tae?”

“What, jagi?”

“I-I t-think I’m in love with you too.”

***

You woke up the next morning feeling more rested than you had in a very long time. Everything the girls had told you about sleeping in the arms of your soulmate was true. It worked wonders.

When you opened your eyes, Tae was looking at you, smiling softly. “You’re finally awake.”

“How long have you been up?”

“Only a few minutes,” he lied. It had been more like ten. But he didn’t want to wake you up. He needed more time to admire you. “Ready to dance?”

“More than ready.” You stretched. “But breakfast first.”

Tae more than agreed and after eating a nice breakfast together, you went with him over to the dance studio to try and fit in some extra practice before the big show. While you were running some of your jumps, Tae cheering you on and snapping pictures, one of your old teachers knocked on the door, opening it slowly.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your practice, (Y/N), but I have a group of Flower Buds next door and they could use some words of encouragement from one of the senior dancers.” She smiled kindly.

You paused your music and nodded, grinning brightly. You loved talking to the little dancers that would one day become the group of dancers that filled these halls, danced in these rooms, looked at themselves in these mirrors.

“Of course, Mrs. Jones. I’d love to talk to them!” You held your hand out for Tae, and he stood up, slipping his large hand into yours. “Do you mind if my soulmate tags along?”

“I think they’d enjoy that! I hear he’s a dancer too.” She nodded, looking over the tall boy the universe had picked for you. She, along with all of the other teachers in the building, had heard about your soulmate. She’d even seen him on TV on a few occasions.

“I’m a dancer and a singer.” He stated proudly, a smile in his puppy eyes.

“Well perfect! Follow me.” She led you down the hall to the room next door, where about twenty girls around age nine were dressed in pretty pink leotards and tutus, their hair up in perfect ballerina buns and their shoes tied in little bows.

When the door opened, they stopped dancing around and turned to look at the two new people who had entered the room, awe filling their eyes. You doubted they knew who either of you were, but they looked at you in that way that children looked at teenagers and young adults: like they were ethereal creatures here to bestow some ancient hidden knowledge on them.

God, you loved kids. And so did Tae. His face lit up at the sight of so many of them.

“Take a seat, ladies. I’d like you to meet a former student of mine and her soulmate.” Mrs. Jones walked to the front of the room with you, Tae’s hand still tight in your own.

“Hi, I’m (Y/N).” You waved and smiled. “This is my soulmate, Taehyung. He’s from South Korea.” All of their little faces lit up, which made him smile even wider. “How many of you know where Korea is?”

A few little hands shot up into the air. You pointed to one of the girls.

“It’s in Asia!”

“It is! Very good!”

“My sister listens to a boy band from Korea!” blurted another girl.

“I listen to a lot of those too.” You grinned. Tae let go of your hand and wrapped an arm around your shoulders instead, rubbing your arm affectionately. “So, Mrs. Jones wanted me to talk to you about dancing. What do you want to know?”

“How do you dance so pretty?” asked a little red-haired girl in the front.

“Lots and lots of practice.”

“How many pairs of pointe shoes do you have?”

“I get a new pair every few days. They wear out quick if you use them a lot.” You told them. You went up on pointe for a few seconds and then came down, and they watched like they had just seen you fly.

Another hand shot up. “Does it hurt to go up on pointe?”

“It does at first, but it gets easier the more you do it.”

“I thought pointe shoes were supposed to be pink!”

“I get mine in red because…” You blushed and looked up at Tae. In all of your time together, you hadn’t told him this yet. He grinned supportively, urging you on. “Well, our soulmate gene is the red string of fate. Well, it WAS red, but now it’s purple.”

“Why can’t I see it?” One of the dancers squinted like that would help her make out the invisible string that tied you together.

“It’s invisible.” Tae said mysteriously, waving one of his hands. He then traced the string from his finger to yours. “Like a ghost.”

“Cool!” One of the girls shouted. She examined her own hand, almost expecting to find a string tied to her finger. “I hope my gene is a string!”

“I think it’s the best.” You looked up at Tae and linked your pinkie with his. “Because it led me right to him.”

***

It was later that evening. You were just about to go on, but before you did, there was a knock on the dressing room door. You and Tae had been split up for a few hours while you warmed up officially with the other dancers. He couldn’t exactly be backstage, but when you opened the door to find him there, dressed in a nice suit and holding a single red rose, you just about swooned. Good lord, he cleaned up nice. Sure, you had seen countless clips and videos of him in a suit, but it was so different in person. He looked so sharp. So put together. So freaking handsome it just about knocked you off of your feet.

You were dressed for your tap number, a sexy ensemble consisting of a tuxedo vest, a short black skirt, a bow tie, a top hat, and black fishnets.

“Woah,” you both whispered in unison, each of your shocked expressions cracking into smiles.

“For you. I have more, but I wanted to give you one for luck.” He handed you the rose through the small opening in the doorway, your fingertips brushing against his warm ones. Even after everything you had already been through, those first tentative touches still electrified you like it was the first time.

“Thank you.” You accepted the rose, your ruby red lips upturning into a warm smile.

“Places in ten, ladies!” Called one of the stage managers.

“That’s my cue. But I’ll see you out there.” You stood on the toes of your tap shoes and pressed a scarlet kiss to his cheek that left him in a daze.

“Just follow the ribbon.” He whispered, so much more that the words he had spoken lingering behind his brown eyes. And then he walked back down the hall to the grand auditorium so he could watch the love of his life leave her heart on that gilded stage.

#kpopwonderlandtag #taehyung #taehyung imagine #taehyung x reader #tae #bts #soulmate au #v #v x reader #bts fluff

261 notes · View notes

fortitude-sakura · 6 years ago

Text

Noir [1/?]

AO3

Summary: We wander through the darkness, alone and blind. That is, until we find each other and walk into the light together.Love blossoms in many different ways and at different times. It's beautiful any way you look at it.

Rating: M

Tags: Corporate AU

“Sakura!” A sweet, feminine voice sing songed from the hallway. “Congrats!”

Sakura’s roommate Tenten bounced into their tiny living room, the widest grin on her face.

“Thanks, Tenten.” She smiled, looking up from her laptop over her shoulder.

“I got you something.” Tenten announced, leaning over the back the couch, dangling an envelope in her roommate’s face. “Something to celebrate you finally finding a job.”

“An internship.” Sakura corrected, as she took the envelope and opening it up.

“It’s a paid internship, that’s what counts!”

Tenten had gotten her a gift certificate to Serenitea House, a fancy tea house in the city. It was a really popular place because of how aesthetically pleasing everything was from the food to the decor and so she saw it a lot on Picstagram.

“Oh wow! You’re the best Tenten, thank you!” she said, hugging her roommate. “You wanna go tomorrow since it’s Saturday?”

“Sounds like a date.” Tenten said, winking mischievously.

“I’ll pick you up at 1.” Sakura laughed. “It’s not as if I have a better offer.”

“Rude!” Tenten pouted comically, hitting her roommate with a throw pillow. “I’ll have you know I’ll be the best date you’ve ever had.”

��

The tea house was styled with traditional Japanese elements - wooden furnishing, panelled walls with linen pillows - as well as more modern design - their desserts and drinks were served on delightfully minimalist dinnerware. They had been seated by the window, where the lazy Saturday sun, made the small koi pond outside sparkle.

“So which company is the internship with again?” Tenten asked, peering inquisitively at her assorted tea jellies.

“Uchiha Enterprises. You know, I’m surprised I got the internship there since I’ve applied to nearly every single job in this city.” Sakura replied, taking a sip of her hojicha latte. Serenitea House really lived up to all the hype, the hojicha was divine.

“Well, since it’s a paid internship, we can finally stop eating like we’re broke students.” Tenten laughed.

Indeed, in the last 2 years they had lived together they really did eat like they only had $100 to feed the both of them, so much so that Tenten developed a signature instant ramen dish (which really was just ramen noodles stir fried with whatever she could scrounge up with a spicy sauce).

“You’ll still cook noodles for me though, right?”

“Of course, otherwise the only thing you’ll have for the entire day is a coffee and a muffin.” Tenten giggled. “Anyway, when do you start?”

“Monday. Which reminds me, do you have a blazer I could borrow?”

“You don’t have anything?”

Sakura shook her head. Between her job searches and meagre part time wage, she had only bought a single black sheath dress to wear to interviews.

Tenten thought for a moment. “I should have something. I’ll have to take it in though - you’re a lot smaller than I am.”

That was the benefit of having a friend that was a tailor - she could make anything fit you like a glove. Sakura had wide hips but wasn’t very tall, so she would often have to buy pants that were slightly larger resulting in extra pant length. Sakura also had the issue of a lot of clothing being too loose in the chest, much to her dismay. Over the years, Tenten had taken up many pant hems and taken in clothes that were too big or loose for Sakura.

Tenten herself shared Sakura’s pain with ill fitting, off the rack clothing, although her issues were attributed to a generous chest and what she liked to refer to as Thundaga thighs (a result of playing too much Final Fantasy).

“Tenten?” a soft voice questioned.

Tenten jumped slightly and looked up to see a pretty, gentle faced girl with long silky black hair. Her lavender coloured cashmere sweater brought out small hint of lilac in her pale eyes and emphasized the slight purple lustre to her hair.

“H-Hinata! Hi!” Tenten said, rather started. “This is my roommate, Haruno Sakura.”

Sakura smiled and gave her a polite head bob.

“It’s been a while! Are you having tea here too?”

The girl called Hinata smiled softly, her pale purple eyes twinkling. ��Oh um, kind of. I opened this tea house.”

“Really?” Sakura exclaimed, “The tea and desserts here are amazing!”

“Thank you. We also serve light meals too! Our chef, Koma-san is very talented. Please let me know when you’d like to try them - I’ll save a private room for you.” Hinata said earnestly, reaching into her expensive leather handbag and producing her business card. “Just send me a message or call me.”

“Thanks! We will!” Sakura said, waving as Hinata left the two girls to their tea.

She looked over the business card. ‘Hyuga Hinata’ was embossed on the heavy cream coloured card, her phone number just below her name. She opened her mouth to say something but Tenten looked like she was in a faraway place, her eyes glazed over with hints of reminiscence.

黑

The first week at Uchiha Enterprises did not go as she expected. She had been slightly nervous about the idea of having to get straight to work but it seemed as though the first week was purely for orientation and administrative matters.

After getting her photo taken and keycard printed, Sakura, along with a dozen other interns were given lengthy presentations from a Takaya-san from the Talent Acquisition Department (which was really just a fancy name for Human Resources) on how the Internship Program worked (a quarterly department rotation in order to best determine suitability beyond the program if the participant passed), various employee incentives (from discounted movie tickets, corporate discounts to the famous Employee Housing Program). Lunch had been generously catered for each day, even though there was supposedly a subsidised staff cafeteria.

At lunch, her fellow interns were discussing the many benefits of working here.

“So, did you guys apply for the Employee Housing thing?” a tall, dark haired guy name Shoichi asked, tucking into his turkey and cranberry focaccia.

“No,” Hiromi sniffed, tossing her shiny golden hair over her shoulder as she picked at her salad with ladylike delicacy, “I don’t live far away enough to qualify.”

Takaya-san talked about the Employee Housing Scheme that morning. Apparently it was a new incentive that Uchiha Itachi had started to encourage applications from talented individuals that would not have otherwise applied due to location.

“That was the only reason why I applied.” Toshiro piped up, pushing his glasses up his nose. “This was the only company in Konoha I applied for. I had offers back in Suna from high profile companies, but ultimately the program was what convinced me.” he said rather haughtily.

Of all the interns, Toshiro was the one she liked the least. He was always humble bragging, talking about what other companies made him offers and how he graduated from University of Suna magna cum laude . If she had to endure another conversation of him and his IQ (“142, that’s genius territory.”) she’d punch him (or not, since it was technically physical assault and she’d get terminated).

After lunch and the inevitable lull of sleepiness that followed (too much good food can be a bad thing after all), they were given a “quick tour of the office” as Takaya-san put it.

The Uchiha Enterprise owned the land the building stood on and subsequently owned all 38 floors of said building. Takaya-san also noted that the Uchiha Enterprise also owned other various buildings, including a high rise and a small block of apartments that were used in the Employee Housing Program.

Most departments took up a single whole floor, while others took up several. Some departments (mostly the marketing and creative departments) had surprisingly modern office concepts - open offices, bean bags, feature walls and even table tennis tables - while other floors were more traditional - cubicles, potted office plants and file boxes piled everywhere.

They all piled back into one of the 6 elevators after touring the sad cubicles of the Finance Department when Toshiro spoke up.

“So is the 38th floor, Uchiha Sasuke’s office?”

Takaya-san was looking rather annoyed as did everyone else. Toshiro kept commentating on almost everything as they toured the office. Hiromi and Ami gave him withering looks and shuffled away from him.

“It’s Director Uchiha to you.” snapped Takaya-san. Poor Takaya-san. She had been rather patient the entire time but even she had her limits. “But yes, 38th is the Director’s Office.” she said, swiping her keycard and pressing the ‘38’ button.

The rest of the interns started murmuring with interest.

“The man’s a proper genius. Not as brilliant as Uchiha Itachi, but still.” Shoichi said in awe.

Hiromi and Ami were giggling about how they had seen Director Uchiha on the cover of Konoha Business Review. Toshiro let out a little scoff, muttering under his breath how he too had won awards at his alma mater too.

Sakura didn’t know a thing about Director Uchiha. She had applied for the internship on a lark, received an interview invitation that day, interviewed the next and received the offer later on that afternoon. She had directed her research to the company itself and its subsidiaries, not the actual director himself and knew nothing other than his name.

The elevator doors opened with a gentle ‘ ding! ’ and the interns were greeted by a beautiful lobby - dark marble floors and a wood panelled wall feature, the Uchiha Enterprise logo emblazoned upon it. An attractive woman was shuffling papers around at the reception desk, looking up as they exited the elevator.

“Hi Akane, I’m doing an office tour for our new interns.” Takaya-san gestured to their group, “Is the Director here?”

“He should be. I don’t have any appointments for him and I haven’t seen him leave.” Akane said with a warm smile.

“How’s his mood?” Takaya-san whispered.

“Well, Keiko didn’t get his coffee order wrong for once so I’d say it’s as good as you’ll get.” she said quietly, before pushing a few buttons on the phone. “Keiko? Let Director Uchiha know that the new interns are here taking their tour.”

“Uh… sure.”

黑

Seriously, it’s not fucking difficult to get a damn coffee order correct.

Sasuke paced around in his office, the takeaway cup from Milk Grind in his hands. Getting Keiko to grab him his daily dose of caffeine was like playing Russian Roulette - you never knew which one she’d come back with. She’d come back with long blacks, short blacks, cappuccinos, flat whites (an Australian specialty that Milk Grind prides itself on), flavoured lattes. The list goes on. Once she came back with an iced latte (despite his request for a hot drink) and another time she came back with a hot chocolate (which didn’t even have caffeine in it!).

Kakashi probably thought it was funny, hiring him an executive assistant that couldn’t follow instructions. However he didn’t really have a legitimate reason to terminate Keiko’s employment. Even though Keiko seemed to be incapable of remembering his coffee order, she was doing the rest of her job to a reasonable level.

His intercom buzzed. Speak of the devil .

“Director, the new interns are here in the lobby. On their tour.” she drawled lazily.

“I’m busy Keiko. Give them my apologies, I’ll arrange another time to meet them.”

The intern program had been overhauled by his brother during his term as Director. No longer were interns delegated menial tasks like photocopying and fetching coffee, they were given actual work. His reasoning was that interns were an excellent way of finding untapped talent - how were we supposed find out if they were talented if all they’re made to do is stand guard at the photocopying machine? His brother also went out of his way to make sure that new employees were given tours of the office - including the executive floor.

While his brother may not have minded new employees poking around his office, he certainly did.

He wasn’t Itachi. When would anyone get that?

黑

Sakura had been put into a software development team as a business analyst. Her fellow interns were also doing business analyst work, including the insufferable Toshiro. The faint silver lining being was that he was in a different team which limited their interactions some.

Her work was challenging and her colleagues were all friendly and accommodating. On the whole, she had no complaints except for the frequency of the coffee runs mandated by the Team Leader. It also hadn’t helped that Sakura decided to get the coffee from a local coffee house called Milk Grind instead of Starbucks - the team loved the coffee so much that it was decided that it would fall on her shoulders to get coffee and snacks.

Still, they were a nice excuse to get some fresh air during the day (even if she got fresh air on an average of 3-4 times a day). This coffee run included 7 lattes (one regular without sugar, one regular with a single sugar, one with skim milk, two with almond milk, one caramel and one iced) and snacks. She had become quite adept at carrying all the coffees and snacks back to the office, a talent that she wasn’t sure if she should be proud of or not.

“What will it be this time, Sakura?” a roguish looking barista asked, leaning on the counter. When you come down for coffee runs multiple times a day, you make fast friends with the staff.

“Hi Kiba.” She rattled off the list and added a chai latte for herself. Kiba had convinced her to try a chai latte and was pleasantly surprised by the sweet spiciness and had been ordering them since. “Oh and I’ll take three of the chocolate chunk cookies, three almond croissants and two of the raspberry slices.”

“Woah, not watching the scale are you?” Kiba laughed with a wink.

“Not in the slightest.” she quipped back, grinning.

Sakura sat down at one of the tall tables while she waited for her gigantic order. Aside from the fresh air, she enjoyed watching the people at Milk Grind because you’d encounter a wide range of people, from caffeine deprived corporate slaves to ironic hipsters in flannel to hypebeasts flexing their new Keezys.

Her eyes fell squarely on one person though. A dark haired man, dressed smartly in a crisp white shirt, navy slacks and shoes the colour of cognac. His sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, showing off his forearms. His side profile showed a high nose and a well defined jawline which gave way to-

Is that a piercing?

His ear was pierced with a black flat button stud.

'Damn’ was the only thought that came into her head. Her eyes traced his face again. For a man he had surprisingly delicate features and yet, when you pieced it all together it was perfect in every masculine way.

“Here you are, mate. Latte with one sugar.” the Australian bartender said, handing the tall dark haired stranger his drink. “See ya later.”

The handsome stranger raised his takeaway cup as a gesture of thanks.

Realising she had been staring just a second too long, she averted her eyes away, fighting the blush that was rushing to her cheeks. She suddenly found much interest in the bags of coffee beans for sale as the man walked past. She began to wonder about him - what did he do? Did he work in an office? Is he even from around here?

“Hey Sakura! I’ve got your order!” Kiba called out to her a few moments later.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Sakura startled, knocking over half the little bags of coffee beans on the shelf in her surprise.

#sasusaku #uchiha sasuke #Sakura Haruno #fs-ficlet #ssfanfiction #ssfic #naruhina #nejiten #naruto #uzumaki naruto #naruto uzumaki #Sasuke Uchiha #hinata hyuga #hyuga hinata #tenten #neji hyuga #hyuga neji

113 notes · View notes

avanneman · 6 years ago

Text

A Social Call

(Another short story in the manner of Rex Stout, featuring Nero Wolfe.)

“I’m afraid that would be impossible.”

“I agree entirely. And it’s been my experience that when things are impossible, they don’t happen. Which means that we should just forget about this.”

She laughed.

“But that would be impossible as well.”

“I assure you it wouldn’t, Ms. Harris—nor, in fact, is it. If you understood what you are asking of me, you’d understand.”

I couldn’t help laughing myself. The notion of me getting Wolfe’s 4,000 ounces on an airplane—a device that actually left the ground and flew through the air like a bird—well, the idea was unimaginable and irresistible at the same time.

“You think well of yourself, don’t you, Mr. Goodwin?”

I laughed again. I was a riot, and so was she.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Harris. I’m enjoying this conversation for many reasons. But I couldn’t get my boss to hear Mr. Zauberberg out if he came to this office himself. Mr. Wolfe made so much money last year he’s taking this one off to translate Montaigne’s Essays into Serbian and Hungarian. As a result, he’s even less interested in running errands for twenty-something billionaires than usual.”

“Mr. Zauberberg is 32, and he is not requesting an errand. He is seeking the assistance of a man known for his devotion to the cause of freedom of speech.”

“Those are kind words, and Mr. Wolfe will appreciate them when I convey them to him. But the deal is still off. Mr. Wolfe is not working for Mr. Zauberberg or any one else, and he is certainly not getting on a plane. Now, I’m sure your boss isn’t used to taking ‘no’ for an answer. If you like, tell him that you found me irascible and unpleasant.”

There was silence for a beat. Then she came back at me.

“Mr. Zauberberg only speaks with principals.”

“Of course he does. I’m sorry, Ms. Harris, I don’t like to be rude, but sometimes that’s my job. I think you can understand that pretty well.”

There was another pause.

“I’ll get back to you, Mr. Goodwin,” she said. “Thank you for your time.”

“Thank you as well.”

I wished I could have done more for Ms. Harris—or Joan, as I could have called her—because I was looking at her FacetoFace page. She was three years out of Stanford, and, judging from her picture as the co-captain of the varsity tennis team, she had the best legs of any applied statistician I’d ever seen. The entire time we had been talking I’d been trying to figure out a way to suggest to her that if she and Mark could make their way to the brownstone and confront Wolfe in person things might go better, but there was just no way I could square that circle, because Wolfe really wasn’t working any more

Eight years ago, back in 2009, the SEC sued half the banks on Wall Street on charges of money laundering for the Russian mob. That’s not what the SEC called it, but that’s how the Gazette reported it. After three years, the government brought a proposed settlement before the judge with no criminal charges and no admission of wrong doing. She threw it back in their faces and said they’d been wasting her time and that of the people of the United States. A week later, a couple of government lawyers showed up at Wolfe’s door at one in the morning with 10,000 pages of transcripts and documents. Wolfe spent two months reading them and two weeks dictating a list of 250 questions for the SEC to ask. Once the SEC started asking those questions the banks put together a new settlement proposal, acknowledging what they called “serious errors in judgment and a pattern of culpable behavior,” and coughing up a billion each to prove they were sorry. Naturally, the award in the case was batted up to the Supreme Court and down again, twice, but when the dust finally cleared Wolfe’s share of the take was on the upside of $17 million. Wolfe threw a little party to celebrate, to which the SEC was not invited. Fritz hired three assistants and gave us a meal that he said duplicated the coronation dinner for Edward VII in 1901, which I appreciated, since I’d missed the first one.

At the dinner Wolfe told us that he’d be taking a leave of absence from the detecting business.

“I have profited from the excesses of Mammon, and now I must address the madness it has provoked. I may not prove more efficacious than Diogenes, but I shall be more industrious. And Montaigne shall be my barrel.”

It took me a week to unravel that one, but fortunately a professor I met at one of Lily Rowan’s parties explained it all to me. Diogenes was a philosopher living in ancient Athens, who it appears took an even dimmer view of society than Wolfe. But when Athens was threatened with invasion, Diogenes felt he had to do something, so he rolled around the streets in a barrel. As it turned out, Wolfe wanted to discourage what he called “feral recrudescence” by translating Montaigne into as many languages as he could. Serbian and Hungarian he could handle himself, and he wanted to hire someone to handle Arabic and Farsi.

“You would have been proud of me,” I told him, when he arrived at six on the dot, waiting until he had settled in the one chair that suits him and rung for beer.

“Indeed.”

“Yes. I informed Mark Zauberberg’s personal assistant that you would not be flying to San Francisco tomorrow morning to promote the cause of freedom of speech.”

Wolfe chuckled.

“If his billions cannot save him then no one can. Have you prepared my revisions?”

I handed him the pages and watched him open one of the half dozen dictionaries he had on his desk. I wanted to needle him, as I had in the old days, but there was nothing doing. In his own mind, he was working harder than he ever had, and who was I to disagree with him? I turned back to my computer—I could catch the second half of a double header between the Yanks and the Red Sox with my headphones until dinner.

Fritz started us off with celery consommé while Wolfe filled me in on the what he called the radical incongruities of spoken and written Hungarian. I tried to change the subject to Zauberberg, and the congressional hearing he was facing in two weeks, but Wolfe refused to be goaded. When Fritz brought in the shad roe with cream sauce and roasted vegetables, he slowed down a little until he had finished his third helping, but then he started in again and didn’t slow down much at all through the broiled grapefruit halves basted with wild thyme honey and cognac that Fritz gave us for dessert.

When we finished our grapefruit we adjourned to the office for some brandy and coffee, Wolfe still lecturing me on Hungarian lingo—the more he talked the further back in time he went—when the doorbell rang. I got erect and walked down the hall. I squinted through the peephole and walked back to the office.

“It’s him,” I said. “Shall I let him in?”

“Confound it,” he said. “Yes. A man without curiosity is no longer alive. I desire to look on his billions.”

The way Zauberberg bounded inside when I opened the door, if I hadn’t known he was in his early thirties, I would have guessed seventeen. He seemed that much of a kid. Fortunately for me, Joan was along for a ride as well, looking tall and fresh and outdoorsy and making me wish I had been working on my tan.

“I thought you were in San Francisco,” I said.

“I was,” she said.

Zauberberg made a bee-line for the big red chair in front of Wolfe’s desk like an Irish setter heading for a beefsteak, although naturally he went first to Wolfe’s desk to shake Wolfe’s hand.

“Nero Wolfe! You’re not easy to get a hold of!”

“You certainly have had no difficulty,” snapped Wolfe. “Please have a seat. I prefer eyes at a level. And your assistant as well, although I see Mr. Goodwin is attending to her.”

It was a cheap shot, of course, but I had to take it. I positioned one of the yellow chairs for Joan, so I could keep an eye on all three of them at once.

“Thank you,” Wolfe said, once Zauberberg had taken his seat. “Mr. Zauberberg, I bow before your wealth, but I warn you in advance that I am not available for hire, under any circumstances.”

I could gauge just how much Zauberberg wanted Wolfe’s services that he let Wolfe get the first word, sitting there in the big red chair and gripping the armrests like a little kid trying to wait for Christmas.

“But it’s crazy!” he exploded at last. “Congress! They make IBM look good! Those questions would have been dumb five years ago!”

“I am sure,” said Wolfe. “I pity anyone who must face a congressional committee. A pack of ululating jackals would display more courtesy, and more intelligence.”

“Yeah, well, jackals don’t really hunt in packs,” Zauberberg said. “I mean, opportunistic predation is an optimal strategy in a lot of cases.”

“If you view the world in Darwinist terms, then perhaps you should neither be surprised nor offended when these creatures seek to feed on you.”

“Okay, fine, I have a problem. And you make problems go away.”

“Indeed, I do not. I deal exclusively with those problems that do not go away. And, as I believe you have already been informed, my services are unavailable for at least one year.”

“Yeah. About that.”

As he spoke, Joan opened the leather briefcase she had with her and took out a sheaf of paper, which she passed to Zauberberg.

“Montaigne’s last two essays,” he said, handing them to Wolfe, “in damned good Hungarian.”

“I shall be the judge of that, of course,” said Wolfe.

Wolfe held open the old, leather-bound volume of Montaigne that he consulted and I watched his eyes jump back and forth between the French and the pages Zauberberg had given him.

“This is passable,” he allowed, “even competent. But it lacks élan.”

“Which you can supply,” said Joan, speaking for the first time.

“Ah, you are in charge of manners, I see. And your name, Miss?”

“Harris. Joan Harris.”

“Very good. And now, Mr. Zauberberg, explain your gift. There is no translation program that works at this level.”

Zauberberg was starting to get excited.

“Those assholes!” he exclaimed. ”Ogle is so full of shit. I mean, it’s Bayes meets Chomsky and you’re home. Well, pretty much. And you need a 250 K array.”

“Mr. Zauberberg is referring to an array of 250,000 linked high-speed parallel processors,” Joan explained, something I gather she did a lot. “We’ve been developing that array to replace our current system.”

“And we need to break it in,” Zauberberg interrupted. “I chose Hungarian because it’s tough, but we can do anything. We’ve got the data.”

“Really?” said Wolfe, raising his eyebrows. “How about Arabic and Farsi?”

“Sure. I mean, Arabic’s easier, except you have all those dialects. But sure. Sure. You help me, I help you. And this could be ongoing. We’ll always have downtime. Make a list. The sky’s the limit.”

Wolfe’s eyebrows stayed up. He was ready to bring Montaigne to the whole planet.

“So you say. Until you have a crisis, which you undoubtedly will. With all your billions, your soul is not your own, but rather your shareholders.”

“I believe,” said Joan, with surprising authority, “that when you are in full understanding of the matter, you will see that Mr. Zauberberg will have every reason to maintain his end of the bargain for the foreseeable future.”

Wolfe allowed himself a slight smile.

“Then are you going to apprise me of them without insisting on my prior commitment?” he asked.

“We rely on your discretion, of course,” said Joan, which amazed me. Zauberberg not only trusted her to do the talking, he could actually make himself shut up. So he must have really wanted it.

“I suppose with this bait I could offer it,” Wolfe said. “I try to value other’s privacy as I value my own. Whether you, Mr. Zauberberg are similarly generous I can reserve my opinion. But please give me no reason to regret my generosity.”

“Yeah, well,” Zauberberg began, “this isn’t really that big a deal,” though the way he said it didn’t convince me.

He hesitated again, and looked at Joan, but she kept a straight face, so he had to begin all on his own.

“Again, as I say, it’s not a big deal, but it’s the sort of thing that people would make into a big deal. Well, I’m married now, but I wasn’t, ten years ago, so I was in San Francisco. Well, I met this chick who did porno. I guess, anyway, well, I guess people are going to say that was wrong.”

“This is not confession, Mr. Zauberberg. Unless this youthful interlude can have real world consequences I desire to hear nothing more, and regret the little I have.”

“There’s no video,” said Zauberberg, “well, not of me. Just some photographs. You know, we were on a boat. People like to take pictures on a boat. It’s an interesting thing. People get out on the water and they lose all sense ….”

He pulled himself in.

“Anyway, what’s important is the Russian connection. See, that’s the big deal with Congress, the whole Russian thing, and that’s got the Democrats breathing down my neck. And the thing is, I’ve never had any dealing with the Russians, ever! I mean, there was that thing five years ago, some Canadian outfit was fronting for them, and there was real money involved, I admit that, but as soon as the link was publicized, nothing! It vanished like that!”

He snapped his fingers.

“And after that, nothing again. And I’ve always had great relations with the Democrats. But now, you know, they need a target, and they think I’m it. And now she’s, she’s resurfaced.”

“You never heard from her until now?”

“No.”

“And what does she want? I assume that mere money could be no object.”

“That’s the thing. I’m not sure what she wants. I’m not sure she’s sure what she wants. She says she wants what’s coming to her, but she goes back and forth. Sometimes it’s cash, sometimes she says she just wants to tell her story, that she doesn’t need me, that if she tells her story she’ll have all the cash she needs.”

“And what is her story? That you two had an affair ten years ago? Embarrassing, to be sure, but did you fly across the country to be here merely on this issue?”

“No. No. The thing is, like I said, the Russian connection. She had an affair, another affair, a longer affair, with this guy Dimitry Voroshilov, the one who set up most of the fake sites that ran on FacetoFace. So it’s going to look like, like I knew what was going on, that I was partying with the Russians, that I was taking money from them, like a lot of things.”

“And do you know him? Did you know him? Or anyone connected to him?”

“No! I’ve never met him! That’s solid!”

“What about this Canadian affair you alluded to. Some one was attempting to take control of FacetoFace?”

“Well, they were juicing the Van Winkles like nobody’s business. They never had a handle on that kind of cash. I mean, they were spending more than they were suing me for. So you explain that one. It was well coordinated, I’ll say that much. But there was no Dimitry involved. Really, it was very well hidden, in Cyprus, the Caymans, that sort of thing. And, of course, it just vanished overnight. Nothing, and nothing since.”

“Were there any Russians on this boat?”

“No! She—well, anyway, there is nothing, nothing that can connect me with this Dimitry guy. Except her. Well, the deal is, she wants to meet me. She wants to have it out, that’s what she keeps saying. What does that even mean?”

“Indeed. Perhaps she intends to assess your vulnerability.”

“Well, I’m plenty vulnerable. I can write a check bigger than she could cash, but she’s so vague. I’ve talked to her twice, and she just goes back and forth, like she says she could go on all the talk shows and then have her own talk show. She seems to like that idea.”

“Indeed.”

“But she says she has to see me. Which I think would be a terrible idea.”

“It is a terrible idea,” said Joan.

“No doubt,” said Wolfe. “So you wish me to intercede, to determine her price.”

“Determine it and pay it! I give you carte blanche.”

“The real thing is, Mr. Wolfe,” Joan interjected, “is to reach an agreement that will ensure she’ll stick to it.”

“That is the rub. She is in San Francisco?”

“No. New York. That was one reason why I wanted you to come to me.”

“A reasonable precaution. Mr. Zauberberg. Is there anything in particular I need to know about Miss, Miss …?

“She goes by the name of Sexy Caboose.”

“Of course she does. As if my digestion had not already endured sufficient distress. What is her real name?”

“That is her legal name, unfortunately,” said Joan.

“I see.”

“Her given name was Mary Hopkins.”

“That is helpful to know. Very well. It would be possible, no doubt, Mr. Goodwin will contact this woman and, if at all feasible, I shall determine her true motivation and contrive an arrangement to gratify it on terms congruent with your interests.”

“Terrific!” exclaimed Zauberberg, leaping out of his chair as though the whole thing were settled.

Wolfe raised a hand.

“I say it would be possible, not that it will happen. Even if the issues and circumstances at hand were vastly different, Mr. Zauberberg, I would be reluctant to enter into a contractual relation with you. Many men sell their souls. You have contrived to sell those of others.”

“We’re not selling! We’re, we’re bringing people together!”

At this point he was half out of his chair, waving his arms.

“Indeed,” said Wolfe. “Please restrain yourself. You did not garner your billions through altruism. My point is, if you will allow me to make it, that in order for us to reach an agreement you must first convince me that you will honor that agreement with exceptional fidelity. I often do business with men of limited virtue, as long as I have assurance that the balance is largely in my favor.”

“We need this,” said Zauberberg earnestly, gesturing with his hand. “I can’t let this, this, this …”

He gave up, in mid speech and mid gesture, not daring to put a label on whatever “this” was, as if that would make it too real.

“Your apprehension of your plight is real enough,” grunted Wolfe.

“We can license the software,” said Zauberberg abruptly, almost shouting. “We can make a contract for the availability of the hardware. Isn’t that enough?”

“You do business quickly. We must allow lawyers into the matter, and I must warn you I cannot guarantee the future beyond a certain point.”

“A year, certainly,” said Joan. “That’s at a minimum. In any event, you’ll be paid by then.”

“True,” said Wolfe. “If I am skeptical of your bona fides, you should surely return the favor. Very well. Do we need this in writing?”

“No,” said Joan, immediately. “I mean, regarding what we have discussed here. The contractual arrangements will of course make no mention of any of this.”

“Of course. Mr. Goodwin will supply you with the name of my attorney and perhaps you shall do the same.”

Joan and I swapped lawyers’ business cards. Zauberberg looked like he missed his keyboard while Wolfe was clearly thinking of beer, and Archie was wondering if Joan liked to dance.

“I’ll have Mr. Parker give them a call,” I said, once I had entered the information into my computer. “He doesn’t object to late hours when there’s money on the table. I guess we want this done quickly?”

I might have been jumping the gun with Wolfe on this, but I hadn’t gotten any sign that he wanted to stall, and I was right. A machine that could speak Hungarian had hit his sweet spot.

“Lawyers enjoy late hours, or at least enjoy talking about them,” Wolfe said. “I believe Mr. Parker will find the task engaging.”

“Then it’s done?” exclaimed Zauberberg, jumping entirely out of his chair this time.

“Indeed it is, Mr. Zauberberg. Congratulate yourself on a coup.”

Joan rose as well, and took a folder from her briefcase.

“This is everything we have on our common problem,” she said, handing it to me. “You should be able to reach her, one way or another. We haven’t told her anything.”

I was expecting Zauberberg to make a try for shaking Wolfe’s hand, but he didn’t. In fact, he didn’t seem to be thinking about anything but getting off the East Coast and get back to the real world. I’ve never even been to Silicon Valley, but you could tell that these two belonged there.

I accompanied them to the door, of course. You never know what people might do when left alone. Even a multi-billionaire might want to take a souvenir, just because he was paying the bills. When I got back to the office. I expected to see Wolfe flipping through what Joan had left but instead he was writing something down on a pad.

“Montaigne alone will not suffice,” he said, looking up at me. “There is a price to be paid even for the possibility of sitting in the same room as a woman named Sexy Caboose.”

“You think it will come to that.”

“You shall handle this matter exclusively if at all possible, but so often the worst eventuality is the most likely. I shall be prepared.”

“This may be a first for me, but do you really want to be working for this guy?”

“You mean why should I choose between Mr. Zauberberg and the jackals who pursue him? I confess I cannot establish a precedency between the blind greed of billionaires and the blind opportunism of politicians. But to give the world Montaigne is no small matter. And there will be additions.”

“Of course.”

“The Federalist Papers, certainly. The Wealth of Nations. Orwell’s essays. Often, the prettiest of truths are the most provincial. Furet’s Passing of an Illusion. And Camus, of course. The Rebel, certainly. And the essays. That shall do for a beginning. Inform Mr. Parker that I want the contract for this matter to be stringent and heavily in my favor.”

“You expect Zauberberg to be generous.”

“If I tame Miss Caboose he shall have every reason to be. You will contact her in the morning.”

I got on the phone to Nate who, though he sounded a little sleepy, perked up considerably when he learned the identity of Wolfe’s new client. While I was talking Wolfe went back to his dictionaries. However, when I hung up he caught my eye.

“Your skepticism provokes me, Archie,” he said. “Your thoughts on Mr. Zauberberg.”

“He is cute. But you don’t get that rich that fast by being cute.”

“Indeed. Gibbon remarked that it was two metals, iron and gold, that chiefly allow men to increase their desires beyond their mere bodily wants. To these two our age has added the silicon wafer. These young men see the entire world as their oyster and would swallow it whole.”

I was about to speak when the telephone rang. I answered it.

“Hello Mr. Goodwin,” a voice said, before I could speak.

I looked at Wolfe.

“To whom am I speaking?” I asked.

“Well, you know very well, don’t you, Mr. Goodwin? Can I call you Archie?”

“No.”

I cupped the phone.

“It’s her.”

“Confound it. This shall cost Mr. Zauberberg the Decline and Fall, in toto.”

“Archie, are you there?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Archie, I know you’ve been talking with a friend of mine. I know all sorts of things. Would you like to hear about some of them? Say at twelve o’clock?”

“She’ll be here in two hours,” I told Wolfe.

He gave a wave of his hand, as futile a gesture as I’ve ever seen him make. Then he rang for beer.

“Confound it!” he said again.

When Fritz arrived Wolfe opened the bottle with the gold-plated opener and poured the beer until there was a quarter-inch of foam at the top of the glass. He drank from the glass and licked the foam from his upper lip. Then he looked at me.

‘We shall address this woman as Miss Hopkins,” he said, glaring hard enough so that I knew he meant it.

“Of course.”

Then he picked up, not the dossier that Joan had given me but the translation of Montaigne that Zauberberg had brought. He read through it, making notes as he went, but not a lot, which surprised me. Since he wasn’t bothering to prepare for Sexy, I thought I should, so I took the dossier from his desk and started looking through it. FacetoFace had hired some outfit in San Francisco that I knew of only by reputation to run a background check on Miss Caboose, and for a porn star she was pretty sedate—only two busts for possession and a D and D she picked up two years ago when she got in a shouting match with some guy in the lobby of the St. Francis in San Francisco at three in the morning, which at least showed some class. Anyway, how do you blackmail a porn star? She had been working in Vegas in some sort of porn star review for the past year. A month ago she took a leave of absence, which is exactly when she started pestering Zauberberg, so it was obvious the two were connected.

There was also a thumb drive in the folder so I loaded it into the computer and had a look. There were dozens of photographs from the little boat trip, with Zauberberg looking like he was about twelve. As for “Miss Hopkins”, well, she was definitely a porn star, but, very fortunately for Zauberberg, she managed to keep her top on the whole time, at least when people were taking pictures. There were five men and five women on the boat, and Zauberberg’s people had identified them all, and run a background check on all of them as well, and even interviews. None of them seemed very happy about reliving that little party, but with Zauberberg leaning on them, they’d all talked.

Once Sexy had started putting the bite on Zauberberg, his people had hired Bill Henderson’s outfit to keep an eye on her in New York. Henderson has fifty people working for him, so it wasn’t likely that they’d lose track of her. Sexy was holed up in a small, expensive hotel on the Upper East Side and walked her poodle in Central Park when the weather was nice. She hadn’t met anyone or gone anywhere since she arrived from Vegas.

At quarter after eleven Wolfe looked up from his manuscript.

“What have you learned?” he asked.

“Zauberberg’s story seems pretty straight, unless they’re hiding something from us.”

“If they are they deserve their fate. Tell me what struck you as in the least bit piquant.”

I gave him all the piquancies I had on hand until the doorbell rang, at five to eleven.

“I guess she couldn’t wait,” I said to Wolfe.

He grunted in reply and picked up his manuscript for one last look at Montaigne while I walked down the hallway to open the door.

I checked Sexy out through the peephole, just to be sure she didn’t have any company, but she was clean.

“I can call you Archie, can’t I?” she asked as she stepped inside.

“Not around my boss, Miss Hopkins,” I said.

She laughed.

“I haven’t heard that in a while.”

I wouldn’t say that Sexy was subdued, but, again, for a porn star I wouldn’t call her flashy. Wolfe wasn’t going to like the look of her hair, which was ash-blonde and swept well over her eyes, but her skirt wasn’t—well, it wasn’t the shortest skirt I’d seen in that hallway—and she was wearing a mink jacket that was almost respectable. Glamourous, yes, but she didn’t look like she was selling it. On the other hand, if she’d unbuttoned the one button on that jacket she’d be giving it away, because she had a lot to hide upstairs, and the little black dress she was wearing wasn’t even trying. I was tempted to tell her to keep that jacket buttoned if she wanted Wolfe to like her, but I didn’t want to be giving her ideas in case she didn’t want Wolfe to like her, so I kept my mouth shut.

“Well, Nero Wolfe!” she laughed as we came in the office. “I guess you’re not too happy to see me.”

“Whether I am or not is irrelevant,” said Wolfe. “I have a job to do and to do it I must suffer your presence.”

“Suffer my presence. Well, well. Such a pretty room! I’d like to live here!”

She took the big red chair. Wolfe hadn’t brought up the subject of refreshments, so I wasn’t sure what to say, but he saved me the trouble.

“The hour is late, Miss Hopkins, by my standards if not yours. However, if you desire or require alcohol my assistant Mr. Goodwin will be glad to oblige.”

She laughed again, a good way to get on Wolfe’s nerves.

“Well, yes, I will have a little something—white wine. Just a small glass. Nothing sweet.”

I joined her, to be polite. Wolfe had finished his beer long before and wasn’t in the mood for anything more.

“Now, Miss Hopkins,” Wolfe began, after I’d poured the wine, “what precisely is your purpose, and indeed your price, in this matter?”

“I don’t believe I have a price, Mr. Wolfe,” she replied. “I think I need a career change, I guess that’s my purpose. I think I’d make a good talk show host, Mr. Wolfe. I like to talk, and I like to hear other people talk. It would be a lot of fun to be on one of those shows, you know, like Conan O’Brien. They don’t let women do those shows, have you noticed that? And they should! They definitely should!”

“No doubt. Miss Hopkins, when did you make the acquaintance of Dimitry Voroshilov?”

“Dear Dimitry! He was so sweet! Well, he was on the boat, of course.”

“He was not,” snapped Wolfe. “There is no evidence to connect him with that boat, and much to deny his presence. To tell palpable lies in this matter is dangerous, no matter how many secrets you believe you possess. I assume to you intend to charge Mr. Zauberberg with more than just sexual intercourse, which is indeed your stock in trade.”

I could tell Sexy had been snapped at before, probably by one of Zauberberg’s lawyers, because it didn’t slow her down much, though it did make her more cautious.

“Well, maybe he was, and maybe he wasn’t. Anyway, it was a long time ago.”

“Indeed. When did you make Mr. Voroshilov’s acquaintance?”

“Well, a long time ago.”

“Can you be more specific?”

Sexy, or, as I guess I should call her, Mary, seemed to be feeling Wolfe out. The direct lie hadn’t gotten her anywhere. She bit her lip and paused.

“Some Russian mafia guys,” she said suddenly. “You know, I was at a party.”

“With members of the Russian mafia? Did they identify themselves as such?”

“No. They had, you know, Russian accents. Like on TV. And this guy, he came up to me and said, ‘I know you! I know you!’”

She laughed.

“They talk like little kids, like they get really excited. ‘You big porno star! You big porno star!’ I had just made my big picture, Back Door Brides. I was the only girl in the picture, you know, and it was the top-grossing porno of the year. I won best actress. So, you know, that was like in 2007 or 2008. 2008, probably. I guess that’s right.”

She counted on her fingers to come up with the date. Wolfe just grunted, as though getting into a conversation about a film titled Back Door Brides didn’t appeal to him.

Sexy drank from her wine, and swirled it a little in her glass, as if thinking about the good old days.

“Anyway,” she said, “Dimitry really took a liking to me. He didn’t give me his name back then. He called himself Mr. Smith.”

She laughed again.

“I meet a lot of guys named Smith. Also Jones. I met this guy Mr. Jones once who took me on a nice boat.”

“Another Russian mobster?”

“Well, you don’t have to say mobster. He was pretty shy, really. Dimitry told me to be nice to him. Shy guys, you know, they’re the easiest! And sweet! I only saw him once, though. He had a nice boat. Big! But Dimitry was really connected. The way he talked, the way other people treated him, you could tell. And he was rich. I mean, super rich. He used to fly me to his yacht in a helicopter! And a nice helicopter—leather seats, soundproofing, everything. You didn’t have to wear a helmet. I hate that! You can imagine.”

She stroked her hair.

“A lot of men say I have the best hair in the biz. What do you think? Archie, I’ll bet you’re an expert.”

I could tell Wolfe wasn’t liking the way the conversation was going, so I tried to keep it complimentary but brief.

“Your hair is terrific.”

She beamed. Sexy was a pro, in more ways than one, but she took a compliment like a teenager.

“I bet you’ve never ridden on a helicopter at all, have you, Mr. Wolfe?”

“Indeed not. What was his yacht like? I mean Mr. Voroshilov’s.”

“Incredible. Incredible. Some guys, they say it’s their yacht, but you know it isn’t. This was Dimitry’s, the way that crew treated him. He’d say it, and they’d do it. Bang!”

“And when did you first tell him that you knew Mr. Zauberberg?”

“Well, that’s a good question,” said Sexy, stretching it out. “I guess, well, we were in bed and the TV was on, and there was this big shot of Mark’s head and I said ‘Hey, I used to fuck that guy.’ I guess it’s okay to say ‘fuck’, isn’t it?”

“It’s acceptable in reported conversations, but not as expletive or a verb. Or an adjective,” said Wolfe, crisply. He has pretty clear rules about what you can say in his presence, and in his office.

“Did Mr. Voroshilov express an interest in this statement?” he asked.

“Yeah. He said ‘you did!’ and I’m like ‘Fuck yeah, I did!’ That’s okay, isn’t it?”

“It’s acceptable. How did your conversation continue?”

“Well, I told him about the boat. See, I didn’t know who Mark was back then. He was just some guy I had fucked.”

She laughed.

“Sorry. Guess I screwed up. See, I can be good. Anyway, well, after that was the first time he took me to his yacht.”

“Do you recall what film you had completed around this time?”

“Well, Inglorious Butt-Fuckers. It was just two years after Back Door Brides, but wow. I didn’t even have my own dressing room. Things change so fast. That’s why I was so glad to have Dimitry. These guys will tell you how generous they are, but Dimitry was generous. I mean, the best of everything, caviar for breakfast. Good caviar too! The best! And then he disappeared too. Goodbye Mr. Smith, right? I thought I’d never hear from him again, until about six months ago. No helicopter this time, but one of those fancy little hotels. That’s when he told me his real name. He was so sweet. He said he wanted to hear me call him Dimitry.”

She laughed.

“And have you seen him since?”

“Well, no, because of all this publicity. I just talked to him on the phone. He told me how he was a wanted man in the U.S. now, because Mark was so afraid that everything would come out.”

“What was there to come out? You can offer no testimony that the two men were ever together. You surely do not intend to testify that they were. You are, I may say, Miss Hopkins, an engaging personality, but you lack the self possession of an effective liar. Your weapon is your innocence. You cannot keep a secret.”

“Well, I don’t know about that. I like to talk, which is why I would be good on a talk show. And now I will be, because I will be famous. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“It doesn’t occur to you that you might be in danger?”

That got a real laugh out of her.

“Danger! Nice try, Mr. Wolfe. Dimitry would never let anything happen to me. Is Mr. Zauberberg going to have me killed? How would that look?”

“I was not suggesting that Mr. Zauberberg would resort to violence, but the Russians are not so squeamish. Describe Mr. Voroshilov to me.”

“Bald. Really bald. He told me Putin doesn’t like guys with hair.” She laughed. “He says stuff like that. He’s cute. Kinda short, but, you know, not where it counts.”

She laughed again.

“You said there were pictures from your encounter with Mr. Zauberberg. You have these pictures?”

“Yes. I like to keep things. People at parties can get kind of confused. There were no drugs, you know. Mark was really a boy scout like that. They all were. Men can be so funny, you know.”

“I agree with you entirely. My sex has always struck me as surpassingly ludicrous, far more so than yours. But these photographs, no doubt in digital format, you passed copies on to Mr. Voroshilov?”

“Well, I’m afraid I did, Mr. Wolfe. They were mine anyway, and I wasn’t even naked, so there. Anyway, that’s how I got this jacket. Do you like it?”

“I admire it exceedingly. Mr. Voroshilov possesses a fine eye. Do you possess photographs of yourself with him?”

“You are nosy, aren’t you? No, I don’t, but Dimitry has them. He does.”

She added that last part for emphasis.

“No doubt,” said Wolfe. “Miss Hopkins, you will no doubt reject my conclusions as to this matter, but nonetheless I offer them to you in good faith. You are in danger. Mr. Voroshilov has no interest in furthering your career. I suggest that there is a real possibility that he could have you killed, as a way of creating a scandal that would both blacken Mr. Zauberberg’s name and this colossus he has created, further damaging as well the state of political discourse in this country.”

Sexy just laughed at this one.

“Now, Mr. Wolfe, I’m afraid you’ve been watching too much TV. Anyway, I bet Mark just paid you to say that. I bet he did.”

“Very well. I will not waste my time, and yours, on this matter. The hour was late when you arrived, and now the morning approaches. Mr. Goodwin will show you the way out.”

As I rose, Sexy took my arm, as I knew she would, to get a rise out of Wolfe. It was the first time I’d touched a porn star, and I hope it’ll be the last, but it was also rather fun.

“You’re cute, Archie,” she said, as I walked her down the hall. “When I’m rich, you can come work for me. I can fix you up with a lot of girls.”

“I’m already fixed up.”

“You’ll see, Archie. You’ll see.”

There was a car and driver waiting for her, so Dimitry was really taking care of her. Around the corner I could see a sedan that didn’t belong there, so it looked like Henderson’s people had it covered.

“Henderson had a car out,” I told Wolfe when I came back to the office.

“Excellent. Call them and tell them to double their watch. Mr. Zauberberg will bear the expense. And then provide me with a chronology of Miss Hopkins’ films.”

I called Henderson’s office, which was naturally closed, so I had to get the emergency number and ended up waking Bill himself. While all this was going on I did a search for Sexy’s career and printed it out and handed to Wolfe. When I got everything straight with Henderson, convincing him that Wolfe was on the level, I ended the call and turned around to ask Wolfe why he was so sure Dimitry was out for blood, but the lips were already moving in and out, in and out. I just sat there for a good ten minutes. When he was done Wolfe closed his eyes and then opened them again.

“It’s late, Archie,” he said. “You should go to bed.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

Why he was so sure he had this one, and why he had to cut me out of it completely, well, that was just Wolfe being Wolfe. I left the office and closed the door and went half way up the stairs and then came back down and crept down the hallway. I wasn’t listening at the door. I was just standing near it.

For about five minutes I got nothing for my pains, and then I heard Wolfe talking on the phone, not in English. When Wolfe dials a number on his own, it’s something. It’s my guess that he didn’t want me to know that number. There was a long silence, and then I heard him speaking again, this time in what was probably another language, and probably Russian. That went on for almost twenty minutes, Wolfe being pretty harsh sometimes, but also sometimes listening. Then I heard his chair creak, and I headed up the stairs. When he leaves the office he almost always fusses over something before turning off the lights, and by the time I heard his elevator I was already in my room.

I like to get my eight hours, but since it was already past two in the morning, I set the alarm for nine. I came down to the kitchen around nine-thirty, still a little sore from whatever game Wolfe was playing. Fritz greeted me with a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice. Drinking it made me realize that I could forget about Wolfe’s little game, whatever it was, for an hour or so and just eat the best breakfast in New York.

Fritz waited until I finished my juice before asking questions.

“Why are you so late, Archie?”

“It’s a long story, and I don’t know the end of it,” I told him. “We have a case, so that Mr. Wolfe can translate Montaigne into Persian.”

“Really? Would you like your omelet with speck or prosciutto?”

“Speck.”

Speck is a smoked prosciutto ham, which Fritz gets from a little town in the Italian Alps that he used to visit when he was a boy. It’s drier than fresh prosciutto but with more flavor. Fritz makes his omelets with speck and fresh-grated parmesan, and cooks them golden brown on the outside, and creamy and melting on the inside, accompanied by home fries and roasted tomatoes with bread crumbs, seasoned with fresh garlic, tarragon and chives. “A man who treats good food with less than the respect it deserves is less than a man,” Wolfe once told me when he thought I was eating too fast, and Fritz’s omelets deserve all the respect I can give them.

When I was finished, I took my coffee out into the office and switched on my computer. The Gazette’s home page popped up on the big 30-inch monitor I use. There was a lot of talk about Zauberberg’s impending testimony, but nothing hot. I had a half a mind to call Lon Cohen to ask him if he’d heard anything, but Russia wasn’t exactly Lon’s beat, and if I gave Lon any hint at all that Wolfe was working for Zauberberg I didn’t think I could quite trust him to keep it to himself.

I was about to head out to the kitchen to get another cup of coffee when I heard Wolfe’s elevator. It was almost eleven-thirty, so he’d been sleeping in too.

“Good morning, Archie,” he said, as he always does. “Did you sleep well?”

“Fine,” I said, wanting to ride him about last night, but not wanting to let him know that I’d been listening to his phone conversations. “Any orders?”

“No,” he said, removing the spray of Anacamptis lacteal from the day before and replacing it with a single Cypripedium reginae.

I waited to speak until he got himself settled in the one chair in the world that fits him and rang for beer. He knew I wanted answers and for once wasn’t going to be coy.

“Yes, Archie?”

I was about to say something—exactly what I’ve forgotten—when the “Breaking News” legend broke across the screen. “Top Russian Security Chiefs Killed in Accident”. Two pictures appeared, labeled Dimitry Voroshilov and Yury Sobchak. I stared for a moment as the crawl identified them as the chief and deputy chief of the Russian Federal Security Service, the successor to Putin’s old outfit, the KGB. I stared for a moment and then swung the monitor around so that he could see it.

“Do you know anything about this?” I demanded.

For once I saw him surprised.

“Good lord,” he said. “I thought to start a hare and instead dislodged an avalanche. This is extraordinary. Extraordinary.”

I was staring at the screen and noticed something.

“They’ve got the pictures wrong,” I said. “Dimitry’s the bald one.”

“No,” he said, “it was poor Miss Hopkins who was diddled. She was a pawn and is fortunate indeed that the fate Mr. Sobchak intended for her has been visited on him.”

“What? Sobchak was setting up his boss?”

“Precisely. During that SEC investigation that proved so profitable it was surmised but never publicly discussed that people linked with Sobchak were behind the mysterious bid for control of FacetoFace that Mr. Zauberberg alluded to, and that Voroshilov was the moving force behind its cancellation, though clearly Mr. Zauberberg had not himself learned of the matter. Mr. Putin has a history with both Voroshilov and Sobchak and seems to have placed them together as sort of a balancing act, favoring first the one and then the other. Mr. Sobchak apparently felt the humiliation dealt him by his superior keenly and contrived this extravagant stunt.”

Fritz arrived with Wolfe’s beer. I waited as he poured the glass and drank.

“Voroshilov was the hapless Mr. Jones. I have no doubt that Mr. Sobchak arranged for their tryst to be photographed. His original plan, I believe, was to lure Mr. Zauberberg into a meeting with Mlss Hopkins, after which she would die under mysterious circumstances. The photographs would surface. Mr. Zauberberg would be implicated, his creation defiled, and our entire political process brought into question.”

“Yeah, but suppose Zauberberg didn’t bite? Suppose he played it the way he played it.”

“Then Miss Hopkins would have been unleashed on the world. You can imagine what a stir she could generate. Both Zauberberg and Voroshilov would be exposed as fools and possible confederates. I suppose Sobchak imagined that his superior would be eased into retirement while he assumed command. I presume Mr. Zauberberg will be pleased with this outcome.”

“Which you didn’t expect.”

Wolfe raised his shoulders slightly and then lowered them.

“No, Archie, I did not. I informed certain people of Mr. Sobchak’s duplicity, with the intention of alerting Mr. Voroshilov to his subordinate’s intentions. I certainly did not intend for this information to reach Mr. Putin, but he obviously has resources that surpassed my expectations. Apparently, the machinations of both Voroshilov and Sobchak had exhausted his patience, and he resolved to make a clean sweep of the matter. Returning to Miss Hopkins, I believe these developments will make her more amenable to a private resolution of this affair. Most important of all, I am now free to concentrate on Montaigne.”

The look on his face when he had first seen the news about Dimitry and Yury was almost enough to convince me that he was on the level, that he hadn’t somehow planned the whole thing from the beginning, but I couldn’t let it go.

“So you had no idea it would go down like this?”

“Of course not, Archie. As Montaigne would have it ‘Que sçais-je?’ What do I know?”

#Rex Stout #Nero Wolfe

2 notes · View notes