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mypersonmyg · 3 years

Text

Tebori Tapioca | JJK

**beautiful banner made by @monvante <3

pairing: Jeongguk x reader

genre: fluff, strangers to lovers, love at first sight, tattoo au, tea shop au

wc: 15k

warnings: language, slow burn???

summary: a shining beacon in a sea of monotony OR you just might believe in love at first sight

a/n: hi friends, umm so yea this is a fic i’ve been cooking up for a while and as seems to happen with most of my fics there’s definitely room for more but i didn’t wanna go overboard because the last time i did no one read womp womp...

ANYWHO there’s still very much room for this universe to grow whether it be drabbles, smaller oneshots or whatever so if you have requests pls send them !! for this au or any others

honorary tag: @gukssunshine

masterlist

Sunlight filters through an open storefront, natural light shading the room in incandescent glow, the honk of horns just overstating the chirp of the birds perched in overarching trees that line the street. Lights are still lit, strung throughout branches despite the hour slowly inching toward noon.

Your pencil taps a worn pad, the hundredth rotation of the dormant rectangle of sheets providing no more inspiration than ninety-nine and below. You shove the contents along a desk littered in your crumpled defeat, legs kicking to the wooden surface with comforting intent.

It’s not unusual, the stray of your eyes to the shop just a few buildings from the florist decorating the opposing side of the street. A work in progress, a work almost in completion. It’s become a game, the guessing of its contents, the colorful display before it’s displayed intriguing to many passersby. You’re close to pondering a new theory when Jimin interrupts with his entrance from the back, reciting safety to Namjoon’s latest masterpiece.

He whistles an impressive tune following the departure of a satisfied client, rounding his occupied desk and knocking your feet from his cluttered surface. You don’t have time for the countered glare of offense before his words are zeroed in as if he’s been waiting to direct them long before now when your guard is readily disarmed. “You have an office for a reason, why do you always have to sit at my desk.”

“It’s a nice view.”

“I’ll admit that my delicate features leave nothing to the imagination, but I’m tired of cleaning up after you.” His words are emphasized by his hand’s routine swipe, piles of paper tumbling to the can beside him in rapid succession. Your eyes roll, Jimin’s fingers already beginning to type away on his desktop while your pupils track the delicate arch of his digits and your ears listen to the satisfying click of keys. The consideration of locking yourself away in your office trapezes along the wide expanse of your mind, but before it’s made up Jimin is speaking again, this time with an air of factual superiority. “A tea shop.”

“Hmm?”

“The shop down the street, it’s a tea shop.”

“You sound pretty confident,” You hum, eyes darting to the window, turquoise staring back in the fashion of awnings and fresh paint bordering a wooden frame. The sleeves of your sweater bite at your wrist in comforting fuzz, a slight itch along the skin to pull you from quaint interest. “What makes you so sure?”

“Just a feeling, it’s got that certain ambiance, you know?” Jimin’s hands wave with the impression of the ambiance so to speak, his eyes squinted in that way you so adore. The thought crosses your mind on many occasions, to compliment his subtle beauty, but the knowledge of his playfully arrogant counter always draws you from speech.

“Or because we ran into the owner on our way in this morning,” Namjoon chirps in kind, strolling to the lobby, his own pad in hand. He neatly tosses it to the desk, fingers skimming through unkempt hair. “Nice guy, said he might drop in for a consultation sometime.”

“Consultation? Sounds big,” You muse, hand finding your abandoned pencil to drag faint strokes along your page, though even the slight draw brings grimace to your features, dulled in the shadow of your palm pressed to your forehead, easily nudging wisps of loose hair. Namjoon shrugs, a non-committal range of motion, his neck craning over your shoulder to sneak a peek at your lack of a work of art.

He doesn’t speak on it, simply taking in the unfinished strokes, presumably in an attempt to reassure you in the midst of inspiration long lost. You're prepared to assure him that there’s no need for forced encouragement, but he moves on, collapsing onto near plush without a word.

“Says he’s been thinking about it for a while so I told him we could help him out. He also invited us to his opening, said he'd save some tea for us if we’re busy.” Lips pull back, dimples accenting Namjoon’s heavy cheeks.

You’re unsurprised by his amicable tale, recalling your fresh steps into this very shop just a few years prior. Your body was bare of ink and your arms bore only a flimsy book with hopeful sketches. He’d taken in your wide eyed glance and the disappearance of your bottom lip to the gnawing confines of your teeth. His towering height and newly trimmed hair taunting you within the daunting shadow that filled your frame through the doorway.

You chuckle at past memories, wondering how you could ever fear the gentle giant, his lips pulling into ready grin as he showed you to the very desk before you now.

“What’s so funny?” Namjoon calls to you, Jimin halting in his current endeavor to glance the smirk stretching your cheek.

“Nothing, just thinking. Was that your last client for the day?” You grab for the sign-in ledger, finger trailing the thick page, pinky tugging at the pulled edge of a worn corner. Your smirk flips to a frown poorly withheld, the page filled with Namjoon only reminding you that your own supplies need only be sanitized to prevent the collection of dust.

“Yeah, I figured we’d just close shop early today.” Jimin swipes the ledger with a tisk in your direction, not blind to silent thoughts.

“It’s noon, what if someone wants a walk-in?” Your gaze slides to the clock, hands ticking slowly along the round wall piece. It’s not unreasonable to assume someone will come in seeking art of the bodily variety, and your hands itch to prove your worth, even if it lies within an album long binded.

“Then I’m sure they’ll still want it tomorrow.” Namjoon shrugs, his hands folding over his chest forcing the bulge of recently buffed arms. You almost make a joke about the possible tear of the t-shirt hugging his frame, but refrain out of refusal to partake in the pursuance of sure to follow antics. “Besides, it’ll give you more time to work on that.”

You follow the tilt of Namjoon’s hair, long grown out from his routine refusal to take time from his day to get a trim. You often joke that he’ll be gallivanting with a tail soon enough, his thick locks nearly shoulder length as it stands. He often finds himself shaking it from his peripheral with the wrong angling of his head. He motions to your barely done sketch, the page glaring at you with a mocking disgust.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m gonna do.” You drip sarcasm, pad tossed to your bag and jacket jerked to waiting arms.

~*~

Off-white trim borders the wall of a shop nearly complete, Jeongguk checks and double checks a list stored in the confines of his mental. Aside from constant fear of the opening of doors without the steady flood of patrons he’s eager for business, hard work finally paying its due.

He’s only in for the morning, the steady tick of his wrist a reminder to snap from his obsessive habit, sure that he’ll receive word from Taehyung that he's on his way to drag him from the building. His grin rivals the glare of the sun as his eyes travel a building come together. His hand falls to his arm in dramatic pinch to ensure that his eyes aren’t filled with hopeful deceit.

It fits, he thinks, stepping out onto the walk, key slotting into the door to ensure security. His shop melds perfectly with the heavily lined street, animated tapioca unfinished in the window somehow making sense with the neighboring extravagance of bloom at the near florist and the samples of ink from the tattoo shop across the way. Even the simple thrift shop with it’s objects of interest decorating the window compliments his simple display.

Opportunity hasn’t struck to visit his new neighbors, though he did stumble into a chunk of the owners of one of the shops. He found surprise in the ease with which conversation flowed, his mouth like the babble of a brooke despite the nerves that skipped like pebbles in his stomach and his heart that beat a million miles a minute following their friendly departure.

In his stupor he nearly misses the float of voices a ways down the quietly milling street, but the recognition of a melodic tone draws his gaze.

“I’ll take you for ice cream.” Jeongguk recognizes the voice that seeks to entice as Jimin, though he doesn’t recognize you.

“I’m not a child you know.” Your statement is grumbled, the words echoing that of a childlike pout. Jeongguk can see the movement of your arms as they reach to a playful shove, the rhythmic shift of Jimin’s feet looking routine even from a distance. You choose not to acknowledge Jimin’s coo, his fingers poking at your protruding cheek as if to say Oh but aren’t you?

Jeongguk watches with interest and the initiative to work up the courage to bring acknowledgement to his presence and perhaps introduction to who he expects is the other third of the tattoo shop. You and Jimin are too caught in bickering to notice the figure just feet away, your fingers pinching Jimin’s nose with a countering taunt.

“Can’t I just treat you to a nice frozen treat? I don’t recall that being a crime, but please enlighten me.” You pinch the bridge of your own nose, the scent of freshly packed soil wafting from neatly situated pots.

You spot the poke of pink from one of the tall and timid plants, though you imagine the fragile nature is only by way of visual, Yoongi always diligent with his seedling evolved friends. You make note to beg him to allow the purchase of a precarious plant, an act of teasing to stem from your track record, the memory of shriveled begonias bringing even your shoulders to lift in cringe.

“Are you still talking?” Your gaze shifts back to Jimin, his flow not conscious to your unconscious senses.

“So rude, you should be thanking me for the extra time off.”

“As if I need more time off, but fine, I suppose I can let you treat me as an apology for your ratty transgressions.” You tut. Were your ears peaked and footing less strayed you would’ve noted the distant chuckle of Jeongguk, still standing dormant outside of a dimmed shop.

His thoughts of hurried introduction came to halt with his notice of you. Your voice held a playful jab when you spoke, Jimin’s reactions only animated enough to draw slight attention from your raised tone. Despite your fussing dialogue, your posture was slouched just a tad and your hands fisted into snug jacket sleeves to mimic paws. Jeongguk decides he’d be hard pressed not to be endeared by you in the slightest.

“Wow, I thought I was gonna have to come here and drag you out by the ears.” Hands clap Jeongguk’s shoulders, Taehyung rounding his frame, grin gentle as he regards with relief. “I swear you’d probably live here if I didn’t keep you at bay. What are you--oh she’s pretty.”

The two watch your retreat, your hand easily clasping Jimin's, the swing of connected wrists appearing natural with your stride through the afternoon chill. Jeongguk ignores the flare of his cheeks at the notion of exposure, thankful that Taehyung doesn’t make a show of his ogling.

“Yeah, looks like she’s taken though...you wanna get ice cream?” Taehyung scrunches his nose, wind kissed cheeks held between gloved palms. His scoff is inward, Jeongguk’s suggestion appearing nothing short of ridiculous as the two are swept by a wind that’s particularly biting. While Taehyung shivers, Jeongguk doesn’t appear to mind, hands shoved in his pockets, heels rocking along cracked concrete.

“Do I look like I want to get ice cream? It’s freezing out here and not everyone radiates the warmth of a furnace.”

“Well unlike you, not everyone is so dramatic.”

“Whatever, just get some when we get home.” Taehyung lightly shoves, legs turning in the direction of his car, parked on asphalt, freshly coated by summer’s end.

Jeongguk stares after the winded trail of a billowing pea, your bobbing figure rounding a corner and straying from widened eyes. He sucks through clenched teeth, opportunities knock having been missed at the hands of Taehyung. The clench of fists in pockets goes unnoticed as he rounds on planted heels and makes his way to the car, Taehyung happily staring from the passenger seat waiting with a grin dripping sincerity.

“You definitely owe me for this.”

~*~

You twitch along with the consistent drip of a leaky faucet, the tap of digits on worn ceramic offering a release to limbs without proper use. The biting chill in your toes is only minutely cured by the pilling of four blankets, barely thick enough to rival the wool knit socks Hoseok gifted you last christmas.

You find pause in the sun setting from the window, dim lighting pouring through weak curtains. Your tongue prods at the confines of your mouth, frosted by forced treat and abandoned with the recommendation of a mug of hot cocoa which now rests lukewarm in your clenching palms.

You force your mind to yield, racing in a direction opposite the self destructive course that usually remains dormant until you lay to rest for the evening. Hands numbed by the interference of a numbing chill met with the warmth of a mostly empty mug nearly spilling when your right palm jumps in the direction of your phone, perched on an end table composed of chipping wood and stains too set to resemble anything but a dark pool, a picture puddle fit for galoshes in adolescence.

You wonder if Yoongi’s taken his plants in, the set of cold not nearly the condition for any pending life surely. Though you quickly pull back, recalling a conversation following another mishap, your plant lying limp before the attentive florist, his cheeks rosy from the heat lamps and the temperature set to ensure maximum growth year round. It was with passion that he waxed about the difference between certain plants and the amazing circumstances of their survival.

It was with half amused grin, your head lopsided along the freshly painted door frame that he assured you that if a plant can survive the harsh conditions of the season of cool there was surely one meant to survive you.

You glance to the succulent placed on the sill overlooking your sink. You had been indignant at Yoongi’s insistence that you take it, almost begging that he give you one of the smiling pink numbers reflecting in the window rather than the less impressive green poking from the dirt of a tiny hand painted pot. Yoongi’s reaction was much the same, innocence painting his rose blushed cheeks as he explained the beauty of every plant, sure to continue on until you gently removed the pot from his fingers.

Now the once shy note of green was large enough to cover your palm, a bright spot in the dark of your apartment, falling apart at the hands of purposeful ignorance from an absent landlord.

A sharp tap against your front door draws your gaze, pointed as if to break the barrier of solid wood. You don’t notice the spill of your drink until warmth slips through your sweater, arm jerk sending the mug careening to shatter. The pieces decorate the floor with a colorful tap to pair with the running of dark liquid along the hardwood.

“Shit.” Words muttered in haste, one of many blankets piled in swaddle is heaved to the floor, your legs lifting you from the chair and gently to clothed knees. Cocooning the glass in the thick material you stand to full height when another tap draws you. Your hands tug at your sweater, the seep of the liquid already beginning to set in and your skin grows irritated from the unwanted intrusion. “Coming!”

You glance to the spot where chocolate dances along the edges of your braided rug, the centerpiece itching to soak up what it can manage of the chocolatey drink, already dreading the work of scrubbing to prevent permanent damage. Making your way to the door your feet stride in a half walk half slide along hardwood, tripping up due to the soiled bits of fabric sticking to your feet and resisting a usually easy trek along the hardwood. The pull of the door is a surprise, an unfamiliar face staring back at you with a geometrically flattering smile.

“Hello…” Your words are drawn and rasped, a mixture of the lack of dialogue and settling curiosity.

“Hi, I’m Taehyung.” There’s no deterrence from Taehyung at your lack of reciprocated enthusiasm, just the shake of locks, shaggy and shielding his eyes that appear to glisten in the flicker of the hall lights. His eyes brighten in recognition, though you can’t seem to separate his stare from the reflection of his shocking irises and simply accept his hand as it slowly extends.

“Y/n. Is there something I can help you with?” You attempt a glance around his ever present frame in hope for an explanation, but the notion is non-existent so you wait as he gathers his own. You don’t miss the wandering of his eyes to the open of your apartment but don’t call him on it, an entrance composed of nothing more than a table and a crooked portrait gifted by Jin. You can hear his distant cackles as he positioned it just perfectly before the door.

“Actually I was gonna ask you how to work the heat in this place, but you look about as warm as me so…” He shifts on his heels unsure, taking in your heavily bundled appearance.

You tug once more at your stained sweater, your face heating with recollection of the soiled garment still clinging to you, now with more fervor from the added moisture. Your thick socks are layered over a pair only slightly less so and your legs appear heavily padded under two pairs of dense sweats. “You must be new here.”

Taehyung shrugs, half a step taken in retreat. He tilts his head just so, gesturing to the vacant hall, a door half ajar allowing the flood of light to illuminate the peel of ancient wallpaper. Not for the first time you wish you’d taken Jimin up on his spare room. “Yeah, just officially moved in today. We’re down the hall, heard the apartment’s been vacant for a while and it seemed nice enough.”

“But no one told you that the heat only works correctly on a good day, sounds about right.”

“And our shower--”

“Leaks?” You finish, the distant drip from your kitchen just audible over your speech. Your thumb pushes against the bow of your pursed lips, teeth grabbing hold of roughened skin whilst you watch the turn of cogs tumbling before you.

“Yeah...should I call the landlord?” His brows knit at your nonchalance, thumb jerking to his apartment. You almost chuckle, covering your outburst with a quick tilt of your head. The simplicity of the suggestion seems only to add to the hilarity of the situation.

“Sure, but I’d recommend investing in a space heater and keeping a couple of tools handy. I’m not wearing four layers to make a fashion statement.” Your fingers drum along the frame of your door, the gentle tap carrying between you in soft silence. “Well...welcome to the building and sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

“Guess someone had to be,” His throat clears in chuckle, hand tugging at the sleeve of his hoodie, the strings hanging lopsided where his hood lay half scrunched at the base of his neck. His thumb lifts to trace the corner of his mouth, shifted in that same grin that greeted you minutes prior, though this time your return is swift and without the same haze that accompanied his unfamiliar presence. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

Taehyung turns on his heel at the pace of the gears turning in his brain, swift stride carrying him back to his door, yours clicking shut along the shells of his ears. He pushes into his residence, door squeaking on hinges as it closes in his wake. Straight for the living room he makes haste with lengthy stride, spotting Jeongguk who swallows the couch with his body, spread as much as the lengthened cushion will allow. He peeks from his curtain of hair, dangling at the angle of his head, blinking with the poke of a follicle gently prodding his pupil.

“So?” He pushes up to a sit, nearly knocking his phone from the arm where it’s perched without care. His shoulders shake from the mix of cold and anticipation, mistaking the grin that Taehyung sports as a triumphant mission.

“Oh this place is spectacularly shitty, my friend. Looks like we’ll be snuggling like penguins if we wanna get warm tonight.” As if to punctuate his vivid explanation, Taehyung slides dangerously close to where Jeongguk remains sitting, legs brushing as he sinks into the already heated seat.

Jeongguk nudges to the sharp of Taehyung’s shoulder, encouraging him further inward with a defeated groan. He’s sure he catches the scent of something similar to carpet that’s been left to mildew, but he attributes it to imagination. Somehow this very apartment seemed a saving grace just a month ago. “I knew we should’ve splurged on that loft. Why are you smiling?”

“Hm, so that girl that you were staring at earlier, you know her?” Taehyung doesn’t shy from his urge to throw himself over Jeongguk’s lap, ignoring the squint scrutiny from above. He pokes at the underside of Jeongguk’s chin, teasing a reaction from him, grimace evident from the suction of his cheeks.

“Not exactly, I know the guy she was with though. They own the tattoo shop, why?” Taehyung braces his head with one hand, the other grabbing hold of the string dangling from his clothes, rolling the aglet between agile fingers. He ponders the thought of revealing that just beyond moth eaten wallpaper and the cracks of a concrete hall you await just a few doors down.

“Just a question. You didn’t think I would just leave it, did you?” Jeongguk’s nose scrunches because he did in fact find that avenue favorable among the chosen. Taehyung pats his muscled thigh with a patronizing shake of the head, hair already tangling with the push of his heavy skull to Jeongguk’s tough jeans.

“So what, she’s cute, not like I know anything about her. I’m more concerned with making it through the night without contracting pneumonia or risking the complete freeze of my limbs.”

The two seem to scoot closer at the thought, Taehyung now pushed against Jeongguk’s abdomen. They paint quite a picture on their second hand furniture, couch in need of stitching at the seams and the questionable stain that inhabited it upon arrival nipping at the press of Taehyung’s socked feet into the cushion.

Fatigue abandoned the task of unloading boxes that litter the expanse of open flooring and leftover furniture. Their energy fueled endeavor long forgotten along with the memory of comforting warmth. They both ponder the idea of retreating to respective rooms, but find it would be a miracle if they could manage to pull themselves from half comfort, abandoning the hope of body heat against the chill of the shared space.

Audible groan travels the four walls when a gentle fist beats against the door. Taehyung shoves at Jeongguk’s shoulder, a silent appeal to the younger to make sacrifice and leave their cocooned warmth. Jeongguk won’t be swayed, his arms easily finding the weight of Taehyung’s side and nudging enough to send him careening to the floor with a resounding thud.

Grumbles and groans of the incoherent leave Taehyung’s mouth, amused giggles falling from Jeongguk whose legs are now pulled to drink in the heat left behind. Taehyung stops for a moment, thinking that his timely trek was wasted, opposing party’s fist meeting wood no more. He gently opens the door, head ducking around the corner, foot stepping out only to stub into something surely placed for such an occasion as his physical reckoning.

He foregoes subtly, mouth unhinging and curses falling akin to rocks from a cliff side, the echo bouncing against concrete and soaking into the slips and edges of the silent walls. Jeongguk ambles around the corner with concern etched features, the draw of his eyes landing on his roommate, leg at an angle and clutched whilst he leans against the doorframe.

Jeongguk squeezes past, kneeling to pluck the sticky posted from the top of what appears to be a space heater. His eyes scan the crisp note, glancing down the hall with the knowledge that the perpetrator is surely long gone. “Dude, you good?”

“Stubbed my fucking toe,” Taehyung strains. Jeongguk let’s him sulk, hiding a purposeful grin from the dramatist leaning over him. “What is that anyways.”

“Space heater.” He passes the note, Taehyung scans it quickly with a hum. He doesn’t miss the look he’s receiving from Jeongguk, aware of the name scribbled along the tiny parchment. “Was nice of them. What did you say anyways?”

“Nothing really, guess I’m just a natural charmer.”

~*~

“Will you tell her that she should just move in with me like I suggested in the first place?” Jimin snags on the thick of Namjoon’s t-shirt, pulling him from his task, resituating his glasses along his face rather than the slide to the tip of his nose that seemed a regular occurance. You choose to ignore the commotion, back to sweeping dust and scattered leaves from the entrance of the shop.

Your living situation, less than ideal, often leads you to Jimin’s door, his spare room rather drenched in your deposited belongings. It’s his futile mission to persuade you to trade up from your desolate one bedroom with it’s desperate calling for tlc and take permanent residence in his humble abode just uptown.

It’s foolish not to consider, but you always find the scrape of your teeth roughening the budded surface of your tongue when he turns to you with his grin of sweet saccharine nearly once a week. You don’t know what it is about the cracks that seem to shimmy further up the walls with each passing minute or the breaks in the tile that beg an earthquake decades off, but you aren’t quite ready to part with it.

“If you want me to stop coming over just say so,” You huff, fully aware that’s not the case but sure it’ll throw Jimin for a curve with enough distance to keep him at bay.

He sputters, releasing Namjoon with a gentle shove, “That’s not it and you know it! I just don’t see why you stay there, it’s so...broken.”

“I’ll have you know that I-”

“Have lived there since you came here blah blah blah, we know. Oh hey, a customer! Would you look at that,” Jimin’s over enthused response following a set of feet flooding through draws your next words to thin air, replaced with a well meaning grin. His perked posture slumps when he realizes that it is not in fact a patron looking to empty their wallet. “Oh, it’s just Hobi-hyung.”

“Thanks for the sunshine,” Hoseok counters, elbows covered with a patched overcoat resting along the edge of Jimin’s desk. Though his words hold a tinge of sarcasm, he’s all smiles as he regards you. Much like Namjoon he sports his frames today, wide and rectangular perched along the bridge of his nose. From the opening of his coat you smirk at the peak of a bright yellow sweater, an animation practically dancing along the expanse of his chest.

“Guess it’s a good thing that’s your job,” Namjoon pats him on his way to his office, returning with a box overflowing with garments and books. It’s not unusual that the two of them exchange goods, Hoseok’s thrift always looking for ways to fill the shelf.

It surprised you in the beginning, the flow of people who seemed to always leave his shop holding something to their chest like it was the world stuffed into a novelty bag. That was before Hoseok insisted that you visit yourself, sure you’d find something of interest. He wasn’t perturbed by skepticism, it only seemed to fuel the glint of a thousand galaxies that flared in his concentrated stare.

You’d ambled the lot for a good thirty minutes, fingers gliding along shelves so sturdy it came as a shock that he installed them himself, the wiggle of his elongated fingers when you recited the thought still fresh. It was the belief of Hoseok, in his own words, that there was a magic in places like his. A magnetic pull that would lead you to just the thing you need, often times things he himself didn’t even know he possessed.

“The rest is all in good fun,” He’d finished with that smile that rivaled the shine of the largest star glistening from above.

Your magic was nestled in the thick of it all, buried beneath someone else’s waiting fortune. It was the far corner that drew you, something about it just a shade darker than the rest of the large room. You’re unsure what possessed you, ignoring the insistence of magic cycling through the heavy air conditioning as you pillage through a pile of neatly folded quilts and the random placement of a busted stereo.

“Find something?” Hoseok appeared, head resting just over your shoulder. Your crouch betrayed you and were it not for quick reflexes and a helping hand the bust of your ass was sure to find the floor. Hoseok stood with a pool of change shaking in his palm and his neat smile waiting for you to putter around with your find.

“It’s just a necklace, nothing special.”

“Still, take it, you never know.” He was insistent that you leave with the silver chain, an onyx pendant dangling from the end and even more so that, rather than pay him, you admit that there’s something in the air. You agreed, but your reluctance was only truly squashed when you found yourself adorning the necklace more than your usual jewelry reserved for occasion.

“Hey, did you guys hear about the tea shop opening up?” Hoseok plants himself on Jimin’s desk, ignoring the playful glare burning a hole in his side. Namjoon rests the box on the ground next to him with a grunt, clear on Hoseok’s intention to linger as long as time will allow rather than collecting his treasure and hurrying back to his own place of work.

“Jimin and I met the owner yesterday, he seems like a really nice guy.” Namjoon fills before Jimin has the chance to allow his jaw to unhinge, no doubt planning to flaunt his basic knowledge like privileged information.

“That’s nice. Rumor has it he specializes in boba.” You would chuckle were it not for the wild look in Hoseok’s eyes, his hands painting imaginary rainbow before slotting through the pockets of his coat. His feet steadily tap tap against the tile, the gentle nod of his head not at all unusual but nonetheless intriguing. “It’ll be so nice not having to drive a town over just to have a nice tapioca pearl.”

“You know they sell those, you could make your own.” Your words are all but lost on the eccentric businessman, his tactic to avoid information displeasing to his interests taking full effect. His body angles, half hiding a chuckling Jimin from your view. Sliding the broom to the near closet, not unaware of leaves sadly crumpled against the tile from Hoseok’s timely entrance, but not bothered enough to scoop them into the waiting bin, you make haste to your office slipping between the door slightly ajar. “Right. Well I’m gonna go try to get some work done.”

You release a stuttered breath upon the gentle click of your door, mumbled dialogue just barely pushing through the thick wood. Air puffs your cheeks in half contemplation, silence stealing the inspiration that seemed to dance before you, brain now only half awake as time seems to dwindle at the speed of sound. Instead of the reach for a waiting pad and the scatter of ballpoint colors staring from your desk unused and impatient, you grab for a volume that seems to scream from the near bookshelf.

It begs the recollection of time well spent, a pang in your chest follows a rushing to the surface as if air tearing from lungs lacking capacity. Your full weight collapses to your chair, recently upgraded at Namjoon’s insistence that nursing the squeaky four wheeler that threatened to collapse with the wrong release of breath violated his own moral codes before the hushed mumble about legal repercussions. You aren’t complaining, the upgrade makes you feel like a permanent staple, especially when your mind is convinced that layoff is imminent.

Your fingers trace the smooth cover of hardback, reckoning with the ache to feel the crisp of unturned pages and avoid the buildup that follows suit. It’s the not knowing that tugs at the precipice of your flowing mind, wishing for diagnosis from a stagnant flow of a previous gold mine.

Your ears peak at the surge of voices layering the lobby, though your mind squashes the urge for a slip back into the throw of pleasant chatter. You draw a drawer, fishing for half tangled buds, slipping them into your heightened canals to drown with the sounds of your latest fix.

~*~

The lift of Jeongguk’s gaze as heavy feet carry him past the fluorescent sign of Uhgood Tattoo and through the ringing entrance is subtle enough as doe eyes scan the lengthy space for a feminine form. He’s met with null, but the snag of his pupils on a wall of intricacy almost distracts from the loiter of men staring straight for him and Taehyung who is decidedly less preoccupied.

“Jeongguk, nice to see you again!” Namjoon booms over every voice in the room. His arms are half open in eager acceptance and Jeongguk leads Taehyung to the settled group, one last sweep still leaving him wanting for an introduction or a glimpse at best. “We were actually just talking about you.”

“About me?” His tone toes between surprise and unease, lips puckering in the shape of ‘oh’ and steps stuttering against the crunch of leaves slipping along linoleum.

“Yeah, Hoseok here was just saying how excited he is that you moved in. He owns the thrift shop just across from you.”

Hoseok doesn’t need much introduction before he’s centered in front of Jeongguk, smile glinting and hands reaching for the younger man with much fervor. Jeongguk would find the proximity daunting were it not for the friendly face reflecting in his widened irises. His chest rumbles, glad to place a face to bright signs and eccentric displays.

“Nice to meet you, we’re all glad to have a new face on our little strip. I’m especially glad to have an excuse to save myself from Jin’s questionable experiments in the kitchen.” Hoseok’s hand has yet to stop its steady shake of Jeongguk’s, too caught in words, leaving his mind’s body on its own. “Feel free to drop by my shop anytime, I love seeing new faces. Plus-”

“Here we go…” Jimin cuts, feigned exasperation coating his pitched tone before he excuses himself to the back of the shop. His exit isn’t swift enough to hide the exasperation of the puff of air that gaps his lips.

“There’s a special kind of magic in a shop like mine and because you just moved in the first trinket is on the house!”

“Oh magic? Taehyung’s really into that stuff, we’ll stop in sometime.” He gestures to his friend whose hands are shoved to the thick of his sweatshirt, lips pushed inward with the suck of his cheeks. “This is him by the way, Taehyung, he’s my partner of sorts at the cafe and my roommate.”

“Yeah, though the last one is questionable at the moment. Nice to meet you guys, this place is sweet! Do you do piercings by any chance?” As if by pure luck Jimin’s stepping back into the room, his eyes set ablaze with passion by the innocent inquiry.

“Piercings are my specialty actually, I can pierce any and everything!” His hands clasp to Taehyung’s shoulder, glad for excitement out of the realm of files and spreadsheets. Taehyung, surprised by the eager response, can only seem to nod along to the spew that falls from Jimin’s lips that near miles per minute. “Are you interested? I’d be happy to show you our collection.”

“This could take a while,” Jeongguk is startled by the presence of Namjoon somehow closer than before. Jimin is still spouting about his work to his potential client, Jeongguk takes in Taehyung’s features in search of a signal for help, but only finds him painted with interest and intrigue at the bundle of knowledge that is Park Jimin. Namjoon gestures to a hall along the far wall, a couple of paintings half crooked beckoning them forth. “We can talk about those tattoos if you’re interested?”

The buzz that surges in the cavity of his chest is answer enough, companied with the vigorous nod of his head, curls bouncing against the frame of his cheeks. “That would be great!”

Namjoon easily falls into the roll of guide, leading the two down the hall and past a couple of doors tightly sealed. The walls are a dark shade, set aglow by the heat of fixtures hanging overhead. Even in the dim setting, Jeongguk finds his head swiveling in every direction, thirsting to take in every inch of the place. In his haste he nearly trips over a section of flooring slightly raised, likely the result of settled foundation over many years. He decides rather quickly in favor of the building, the character of the interior clashing rather nicely with the updated signage on the outside.

‘We’ve got a few different stations for working,” Namjoon speaks up, drawing Jeongguk’s attention back. “We do them in the section off the side of the lobby if the customer is comfortable and it’s nothing major, but we also have private rooms that we as the artists like to use depending on the project.”

“That’s what these rooms are?” Jeongguk reaches with a pointed finger, tracing the expanse of the wooden frame, chipped and roughened, to a closed door. Rather than plaquing to decipher between the various enclosures there are framed sketches posted outside of each, nothing a newcomer like himself could pick up on, clearly contributed by the owners.

“For the most part, there’s my office and Y/n’s, and a storage closet but this is where the magic happens.” Namjoon allows Jeongguk a path to his office, door shutting in their wake with a dull thud.

It’s less decorated than Jeongguk was expecting, the barely bare walls outside of the office building up the anticipation of the canvas that must be spread within. Instead there’s nothing put bright white, almost blinding compared to what he’s seen so far. There are a few framed photos of Jimin, himself, and you; all smiling in various scenarios of glee. Other than the placement of a decently sized shelf in the corner and the desk perched along the adjacent wall this office gives no indication of Namjoon’ s labyrinthine line of work.

Even so, Namjoon appears highly intimidating as he takes a seat at his desk, gesturing Jeongguk to the comfortable chair across. Jeongguk is well aware that he doesn’t mean to give the impression of a boss, straight backed and fingers laced over mahogany, but that doesn’t make it any less so.

“So!” Namjoon speaks with triumph, his gauntlet the toss of the pen that had previously dangled from the fold of pierced ears. “You have any idea what you’re looking for in the ink department? I figure we can start with graphics and then discuss placement to see who the best fit would be for you.”

“Best fit?” Jeongguk leans forward, boots squeaking obscenely on the tile beneath. His cheeks flush at lack of knowledge, feeling as if the words spewed were foreign when in reality it was a jolt sent to the creases of his spine and straight to the red soaked appendage in his upper chest. While he’s entered this room with the assumption that Namjoon would be his sole artist, there lay a chance that the two of you will come face to face.

“Yeah, Y/n and I are both good at what we do but of course we both have our specialties. So we like to decide our clients that way sometimes.” Namjoon’s explanation leaves him none the wiser to hidden meanings and the hopeful perk of Jeongguk’s shoulders.

“Oh. I haven’t met Y/n yet,” He wonders if you rest behind one of the many doors leading to this one, sketching away on what he’s sure can only be a masterpiece. “Is she around?”

“Yeah...I don’t wanna disturb her though. Maybe she’ll be in the lobby when we’re finished here.” Namjoon’s words are sincere though his eyes seem to drift far off, their target the window over Jeongguk’s shoulder, shadowed by the growth of a large tree, branches dwarfing the ground outside. His trance is but a moment, focusing once more on the man before him. “What did you have in mind for your tattoo?”

“Well, actually, I was wondering if you guys use the tebori method here? I know it’s more widely used in japan, but I don’t really see myself heading over there anytime soon.” This shop isn’t the first that Jeongguk has scoped in hope of an artist with an extra element of technique, the buildup for disappointment resting in a rehearsed expression. He watches the myriad of expressions that Namjoon cycles through, almost as if the answer rests against the tip of his tongue, but he’s unsure if it’s the correct one. “It’s totally fine if—”

“We do.” He speaks without much expression save for the way his spine seems to cave inward as he continues to think. Jeongguk isn’t sure whether he should continue speaking, choosing instead to study the tilt of a pen on the desk, threatening to roll to the floor if it dances any longer at the edge of the surface. His nerves itch to grab for the object for some form of reprieve, afraid that the pending clatter will disturb Namjoon’s steady concentration and perhaps the calm mask that he appears to be sporting.

His head tilts a tad, curls falling over one pupil, the other spying Namjoon as if zeroing in on a target, nearly scrutinizing the pensive thinking with his galaxy gaze. He can see that just past the roof of Namjoon’s head there lies a single divot in the wall, nearly tricking the bump of accidental furniture, but Jeongguk’s own fist clenches in recognition, thumb tracing the jag of his knuckles.

“Y/n is the only person here that can tattoo with that particular technique, she’s amazing at it really, I’m just not sure if she’ll be up for it right now.” Namjoon’s words seem to pain him to utter, a strained longing in his voice that’s indecipherable without context. Jeongguk only nods along, curiosity curbed by his unyielding sense of etiquette in a situation that doesn’t wholly concern him. His feet are already pressing against the flooring, prepared to push to his feet and exchange pleasantries and assurance of no hard feelings, but Namjoon doesn’t seem quite through, leaving Jeongguk’s position to an awkward one hanging from the edge of his seat. “I don’t wanna speak for her though, so maybe you two can talk.”

“Okay, should I set up an appointment?”

“No, I think I heard her leave her office, she’ll probably be in the lobby. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you now.” Namjoon’s mouth is once again split in dimpled grin, leaving Jeongguk’s head to a spinning akin to a child’s top. He’s led from the room, paying extra attention to the hall, ears itching to pick up a tone much higher than those in the lobby he left only a short time ago.

Contrary to Namjoon’s inference, the lobby is emptier than when they left, Jimin and Taehyung the only ones left milling about. Their speech mimics old friends, Jimin poking at Taehyung with the smile of someone who knows something that no one else does, Taehyung simply replying in kind with half grin.

“I thought I heard, Y/n.” Namjoon directs his voice at Jimin, fingers tapping the surface of his desk whilst his eyes take inventory of the shop. Jeongguk wonders if he thinks you’re hiding behind one of the plants situated in the corner, waiting for the perfect moment to catch them off guard.

“Mm, she left. But not before this one got his flirt on,” Jimin’s elbow catches Taehyung’s rib with a sharp jab coloring his words. Taehyung doesn’t allow this to phase him, standing to his feet with a shrug of nonchalance.

“Not flirting, we just happen to know each other. You done here?” He aims at Jeongguk stepping with purpose toward the door. Neither makes eye contact, the subject of interest not particularly left to the category of unmentionable, but leaving them both awkward and stiff.

“Uh, I think so.” Jeongguk slants so that Namjoon is well in his sights, already typing vigorously on his phone screen. “Should I schedule something or…?”

“Don’t worry about it, I have your number so I’ll just have Y/n give you a call to see when you guys meet.”

Jeongguk stands a moment longer, his toes tapping to the leather roof of boots so chunky they seem to swallow him from toe to ankle, the footwear attempting to take from his lengthy form and failing miserably. He turns mid-step when Taehyung slaps lightly at the sleeve of his jacket, urging him to step beyond the threshold. He lifts his arm to half wave, mumbling pleasantries, barely audible of the steps that echo in his ears with each pace onto the desolate sidewalk.

Jeongguk heads toward his own shop, missing the realization of the lack of paired steps with his own. Several paces behind him, a subtle guilt dressing the plains of his cheeks, Taehyung tugs at the wear of half chapped lips, wondering if the broach of a hazy subject is necessary. He catches Jeongguk easily with a jog, nearly stilling him mid-stride but saved from the extra physicality by the passing of a car.

“You know...Jimin was just joking.” Jeongguk’s brows lift, clearly only just catching sight of his constant companion, his own thoughts carrying him along the street without a wayward glance. His eyes widen, unsure of Taehyung’s intentions or the direction of the current topic. “About Y/n, I mean. I don’t really know her and we don’t flirt.”

“Wouldn’t matter if you did.”

“Yeah, sure. It’s just—look I know you saw her the other day and I’m willing to bet the only reason you haven’t mentioned that you’re intrigued is because you thought she was dating Jimin.” Taehyung treads, careful to avoid the gaze of reddened cheeks, Jeongguk’s hand raising to a nudge at his soft lobe, the other clenching and unclenching in denim blue, nails scratching the rough of fabric with each clasp. “Well clearly they’re not dating, so it wouldn’t be a bad thing if you did like her is all I’m saying.”

“Like I said, I don’t really know her. I think she’s cute, from a distance anyways, but I don’t think that’s any reason for a declaration.” The gentle tick of the crosswalk draws Jeongguk's attention on the present path to the opposing side of the street, ignoring the gentle tick of his chest.

A shining beacon in a sea of monotony. The words that filtered like a mantra, dressing the walls of his clogged brain, overflowing from files and dancing with the fires in tipped bins. Taehyung’s words extinguish the licking flames, if only momentarily, with meticulous reassurance.

A pocket of vibration, dark and clinging to his chilled skin, is notification for incoming correspondence. His steps skip, tripping along asphalt, saved only by the subtle grasp of a steady hand. His thanks are dropped without hesitation, hand slipping from fabric confines with the heavily encased lifeline pulsing with power.

From: Unknown [ 2:25pm]~is this jeongguk? namjoon gave me your number, said you need a consult?

From: Me[ 2:26pm]~yea...this is y/n im guessing?

His eyes pierce the screen, undressing the words with precision, ensuring he doesn’t make a fool in reply. He wasn’t prepared for the quick interception of the conversation he’s still processing, inner workings too focused on what’s straight ahead, not minutely prepared for Namjoon's speedy deliverance.

From: Unknown [ 2:30pm]~ding ding ding. im pretty much free whenever, so let me know what works with you and we can meet to discuss what you need and whether im the person for the job

From: Me[ 2:33pm]~ how about tomorrow around this time?

From: Unknown [ 2:34pm]~ cool. let’s meet at the park around the corner

And now, he waits.

~*~

The first thing you noticed was his approach, a confidence in his stride yet eyes that tried and failed to hide the glisten of steady orbs and the kiss of wind landing atop the surprising density of his cheeks like the piling of new snow. Your legs were crossed at the ankle, bare skin grazed by the cool of grass half dried by the desert chill, hands gripping the accumulation of sleeve inched to the open of your palm whilst your lips curved in mimic at the pout of his own, unintentional but perfectly protruding with the tracking of your steady tilt.

If one were to ask about the slight tremor in your hand or the subtle inch across inches between, you would fail to mention the metaphorical personality of your pulsing appendage and the ooz of liquid red abandoning the organ overflowed to trace the expanse of veins humming with the melodic string of laughter yet to abandon the space since he first spoke. You were immediately taken with soft speech and stolen glances, the professional tossed aside when you asked him to meet you, altogether forgotten when he said hello.

The pulsing was stunned only momentarily when he withdrew, hand disappearing into deep pockets to pose leather-bound pages and the hesitant stretch of muscles, the quick twitch of his neck the line of a rod, drawing you forward with each gentle reel of innocence. Now you sit, tangled in silent adoration, dripping admiration for the collaged pages, soaked in brilliance.

“These are yours?” You stroke the page with the ease of your pointer, his head tilting, hair framing, whilst he nods in a lopsided grin. You don’t notice the glue to your cheek, his eyes steady studying you while you study the glide of his hand with jet black against the white page.

He wonders if you catch the nerves, the steady vibration of his unsteady palms, gentle leap of muscled thigh and the brush of your leg with each accidental inch closer. The proximity did him in, your face from a distance only a picture on a page, face to face giving him the overwhelming sensation of the walk through a gallery filled with seven wonders, their spectacle meaningless without the promise of you.

He pretended for a moment, between laughter and brushes of innocence that he’s known you a lifetime, the thought only pulling at his metaphorical strings because he wishes he had. Your voices echo is sure to leave him wide eyed and ceiling bound for nights to come, imagining the galaxy as you, white expanse the only thing keeping from the grip he so wishes he could establish on the slip of your time here.

He knows it’s insanity, thoughts that won’t leave him be, the closeness driving him further to the edge. It’s the reason for his transition to the journal, the reason you’re perched in the grass with the whipping wind and dead leaves skirting around you.

“It’s just some ideas I have, I jot them down so I don’t forget. I was hoping we could work on them, flesh them a bit more…” Your gaze leaves the page, magic dwindling a sum, aghast at the audacity in his words. You withdraw, clenching fists to rationalize the wait for rejection on your behalf.

“Why me? I mean, you’ve seen Namjoon’s work, he’s great.”

“He said that you’re skilled in the tebori method. I’d like them to be done in that style and not many people can. Plus, I’ve seen your work too, it’s just as amazing.” Jeongguk notes the deflation, not unaware of Namjoon’s warning. He’s tempted to pry, but reverses hoping to stumble upon neutral territory, already missing the strain of your muscles in smile. “But obviously it’s only if you’re comfortable. I don’t mean to put you on the spot.”

“You’re not, I just...can I think about it? I know that’s so incredibly unprofessional of me but—”

“Take as long as you need.” Jeongguk decides immediately he doesn’t need an explanation, that your rumination is the promise of another rendezvous, high hopes lifting him over the horizon of the midday sun, skin aching for the glow of golden hour.

You already know you’ll say yes, outright rejection never an option, the flicker of expression alight in your left receptacle more than reason to feel him once more. The physical is through the page, but the metaphorical is the connection of souls, the cliché of one person and the hope of renewed ardor.

“I promise I won’t be long…” The words hang, heavy in the air between and with more meaning than your intent. You’re led away by the weight of obligation, required assistance from Jimin to cover the desk, legs like infant limbs after an hour unmoving.

Jeongguk follows suit, still chewing the words before spewing his own right back. The same weight and familiarity in his soft deliverance.

“I’ll be waiting.”

And now, you climb.

~*~

“How was your date?” Jimin is already setting up his station, eyes not sparing a glance, concentration wholly reserved. His vibration is palpable, though you don’t immediately notice, the feeling still finding stringed limbs when you reach your seat behind the desk.

“I was meeting a client,” You speak hollow and unconvincing, the magic coursing through your veins begging to differ. Wonder is silent, eyes latching to the single eye muraled to the wall, imagining it to glisten like Sirius reflecting in the night sky, musing how one day could build a coherency of such magnetism yet still be held at arm’s length.

“Oh really? It’s just that, I never meet my clients at the park...” His voice is a hum, settling an array of options for the post pierce browse. “—it’s certainly a bonus that said client is very handsome and already seems pretty interested.”

“You’ve never even seen us in the same room, I just met him today.”

“Whatever. I assume he’ll be coming around a lot more.”

Your fingers grasp the nearest instrument, ballpoint clicking in time with the tap of your toe against the leg of the chair. “I don’t know if I’m gonna agree. I don’t want him to be disappointed in the result.”

“I know you think you’re old news, but the fact that you didn’t say no is reason enough. There’s clearly a part of you that wants to, so why not take the plunge?”

“I can’t say yes just because I feel some strange attraction to him. That would be inappropriate,” Your mind barely registers the entrance of figure three, a client you presume, the sign-in ledger already halfway across the desk when Jimin speaks again.

“So you are attracted to him?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yes you did,” Your pen clatters, nimble fingers swooping it in your absence, Taehyung’s smirk a playful gleam to counter your startled posture. He greets Jimin as an old friend, the two waiting for you to catch up, the slouch of your spine and the configuration of the scene pulling you back into the current take.

“You’re the one getting a piercing?” Wheels push the foundation, abandoning the desk in favor of the plush leather Taehyung has already sunken into. You believe he feels at home, the decorative jewelry already hanging from his lobes the badge of a pierced veteran.

“Yeah, I figure it’s time to expand my collection.” His hand brushes the lengthy edges of his dark locks, leaving ample space for Jimin to reach his target, the depth of his gaze landing on your arch over the chair’s arm. “I’m assuming your meeting went well?”

“What do you know about my meeting?”

“Why do you think I was here yesterday? The piercing was just a bonus,” He pokes at the tray beside him, the light smack of Jimin’s hand drawing him back to the confines of his lounge. You try to connect dots lost in the fray of day to day. Taehyung is not entirely new to you though still unfamiliar, but you don’t recall the mention of Jeongguk during his earlier visits.

“So you guys know each other then?” Your disbelief finds Jimin, his hand’s busied with extra sanitation and his lips focusing hard to keep his face straight. “I’m assuming I’m simply the last to know, okay then.”

“It’s just circumstance really, I’m the one who came to your door, you were in your office when we came here yesterday and he was in Namjoon’s office when you came out. I promise he wasn’t avoiding you, quite the opposite actually.” You’re too intrigued for embarrassment, your attention handed tenfold to Taehyung, his head slightly tilted while Jimin readies to pierce him.

As of late the stench of disinfectant would trigger a memory you were fighting hard to shield from the surface, but the idea of not knowing more of Taehyung drives it from your mind, currently on one track and unwavered by anything that’s not Jeongguk. Even so, there’s a haze, or perhaps the attempt of common sense forcing you to look past the filter of brights to truly grasp reality.

“We’d never met before today, how could he possibly be looking for me?”

“We actually saw you a few days ago, before you and I officially met. You and Jimin were leaving the shop and he seemed pretty distracted by you, but he thought you two were dating.” Your laughter emits in breathy sighs, muddled by the fluttering in your abdomen, Jimin’s lips smug, shoulders rounded.

“Easy mistake, we’d make a cute couple.” It would be a fib to deny that it’s the first time it’s been thought that you and Jimin were more than friends. His neighbors foolishly believe your late nights are spent anywhere save for the couch, silver screen glaring back at your glued lids.

You watch Jimin work, ignoring the bore of Taehyung’s eyes, his focal point to ignore the sharp sting of the needle. He barely flinches, your own body lurching in slight when the needle meets puffed skin. His hand clasps your wrist, pulling you closer, examining the bare skin in earnest.

“You don’t have any tattoos...none that I can see at least.” He notices, jumping to your eyes and back to your arm. He leans forward when Jimin steps away, gathering his studded collection of earrings, reflecting with golds and silver. “That’s pretty interesting considering you give them to other people for a living.”

“Astute observation. I do not have any tattoos visible or otherwise.” Taehyung kisses his teeth, easily opting for a pair reminiscent of chains. You look for judgement, but there’s none in his study of the colorful space, just a curiosity he’s not sure he should breach. “I’ve always wanted one, but I was too scared. Ridiculous but true.”

“Scared of needles?”

“At first maybe. Scared of the permanence of it all. It feels like such a big responsibility, to me at least, to decide what to get tattooed and I’ve never gotten to a point where I could just do it.” You think back to pages bound by leather with frightening immediacy, the conviction with which the they screamed at you almost haunting if not for the beauty of it. Chilling in the details of sketches, moments in time grasped so eloquently. A part of you is certainly jealous, but the other part is so irrevocably drawn to depth and desire. “Hey, Taehyung, is Jeongguk still at his shop by chance?”

“Actually I’m supposed to be meeting him for ice cream after this so he might already be there.” He pulls his device from his jacket, squinting at the screen, thumb gliding in swiftness. “You guys should come!”

“Oh we don’t wanna—”

“I’m in, I’ve been craving a good scoop,” Jimin leaves no room for disagreement, his limbs already at full speed to hurry cleaning his station. “We don’t have any clients and Namjoon is out of town for the day, so I think we’re good to close up. Plus, you can tell Jeongguk you’ll take him on.”

“I never said I would,” You slide back into your jacket, tucking your limbs into the sleeves. The sky has darkened significantly since the dusting of rays that splashed your skin as you sprawled the grass barely an hour earlier.

“You never said you wouldn’t.” The two are like stooges, already mastering the collaborative effort to challenge you.

“Have fun with your ice cream, I’m, hopefully, going home to a heated apartment.”

~*~

Jin has been talking to Jeongguk since he entered, the recognition of the new young entrepreneur on the strip catching his attention without pause. He’s a nice guy, his energy something Jeongguk would appreciate on any given day, but he was hoping for a moment of collection before Taehyung arrived.

He’s stuck on a blur, the low heat of his skin and the canals of his ears, yearning for the vibration of laughter and soft words spoken beneath the breeze. It was easy and good, an hour lost, an hour found. He would’ve laid there in the grass for hours after your departure were in not for the chill that crept in so easily without you beside him.

He wonders if it was a mutual feeling or if your reaction was just polite, a business tactic. No. Not you, you’re not the type to pretend, he knows even if he doesn’t know. Your sincerity was like a sickness, spilling from your every crevice, pouring out with your every phrase. He’s sure even you don’t notice the significant way you carry yourself, impossible to turn away from.

“Hey, Jin, talking Jeongguk’s ear off I see.” Jeongguk breaks his stare from where it concentrated on the ink already eating his skin, Jimin standing over the booth with Taehyung chuckling beside him. “Maybe give him a break and take out order?”

“There’s a counter, Park Jimin, and—” Jin squints in the direction of the counter, a small line waiting for their treats of the frozen variety, though not many people are keen for the cold in the midst of winter. “—yup there’s definitely someone up there waiting just for you.”

“Ha ha, leave him alone, Jin, his mind is already occupied plenty.” Jin slides from the booth, Jimin immediately taking his place, Taehyung sliding in after him.

Jin feigns reluctance when Jimin recites his order, all around friendlier when Jeongguk and Taehyung do the same. Jimin turns his attention to the other side of the booth when Jin sidles off, already choosing his next target. “Where’s your head at?”

“Hm?”

“We just talked to Y/n, I hear your meeting went well, prospects are high. She seems interested,” Taehyung’s speech is backed with encouragement, Jeongguk’s lip quivering, but winning the fight against his impending smile, intent on not giving himself away too quickly.

“She said she’d think about it and I’m perfectly okay with that.” He thinks of your promise, the thoughts skirting past the surface for a sign, a signal that the more he feels is exactly the meaning behind your words. His rang true, he would wait and be content. He would be prepared to have you work as his artist and end things there, but the weight in his pocket and the recollection of your eyes doubled in size leaves room for the want of more.

“She seemed impressed with you,” Jimin adds, chin rested in his palm, reading for reaction. “The fact that she’s considering is a really good sign. For her and for you.”

“It all just felt really natural,” The two watch as Jeongguk’s eyes glaze over just thinking about the exchange. “Almost like we…”

He trails, face heating, his thoughts almost betraying him. He’s relieved when a server comes bearing dishes, thanking them aloud with pleasantry and inwardly for saving him from himself. The relief is short lived when two sets of eyes beam at him like he’s an amusement, waiting for him to continue.

“Almost like you…”

“Nothing, it’s really stupid. She’s really great, I’ll be lucky if she decides that I’m worth it.” He covers lamely, shoving his spoon past his lips, letting creamy vanilla coat his tongue and ease his mind.

“Trust me,” Jimin mumbles, swallowing his own hefty scoop. “She decided that the moment you sat down.”

~*~

It’s unclear what brought you to this stool some nights later, half buzzed and wondering if you’ll have to call Jimin to drag you home. Your mind hasn’t completely fogged, liquor light with mercy, heavy consequences no doubt pending for the morning to come. A break, you’d decided, hands and knees stained with product, trying in vain to work the stain from your carpet, the smudge faint but not enough to miss your eye.

The crowd is surprising, though you wouldn’t know as you don’t often go to the place with the metaphorical bad stuff, your own brand of lunacy dancing in boxes lacing your cabinetry. You recall the draw of drinks from mugs and Jimin off-key when you’re sliding more bills than you prefer across the counter. Moving is without appeal, head to the counter the way to go.

“Hey, you okay?” The voice is familiar, worth the work to lift your head. Jeongguk looks down at you, his hand placed to the bar, eyes wide with concern.

His own stumbling through the door of the room with the dim lighting and the absurd amount of sports playing in every corner was boredom. Taehyung had plans and he was left alone to the drone of the television, the shop in need of a break from him. The dishes already glistening from his tenth wash despite the lack of use. A spot of dust enough to send him into a frenzy. From Jimin the name of the dive was briefly mentioned, in relation to what he couldn’t say, the topic never picking his brain from the moment it was first spoken.

Now he’s glad he wasn’t a horrible companion, the sight of you hunched over reason enough for his half listen. He notes your solitude immediately, drawn to the side of the bar rather than the thick of it all, two glasses empty before you.

“Jeongguk!” Your tone is uneven, eyes looking watered under the lights, your smile brightening in his eyes. He can’t help but to return, lowering into the stool so your faces are level. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“I just got here actually and I saw you so…”

“You came for me?” If you were less influenced the words would have remained nothing more than a thought, passing in a sea of others you could never muster courage to speak. Though you’re not sure that a post buzz reflection will make you wish they were any less materialized, the way his features soften like a fertilization for the growth of your thudding heart.

“I—yeah, I came for you. Are you ready to head home?”

“You don’t know where I live,” You say the words, knowing you’ll go anywhere with him even if he doesn’t. You let him guide you from your stool, his touch soft, never too much.

“You know, I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

~*~

He lingers outside of your door, adoring the small struggle you have with lock and key, about to lend a hand when your triumph catches him, arms lifting over your head, turning to him with a smile. “Come on!”

“You want me to come in?” Taehyung will be home soon and he has no way of explaining that he’s at your place that doesn’t involve some teasing on his best friend’s end of it, though it doesn’t matter when you latch on to the sleeve of his jacket and pull him past the threshold.

The biggest difference between your place and theirs is the lived-in aspect. He would say that it’s cute, but it’s too simple a word. It seems you prefer mood lighting, the flip of a switch igniting fairies strung to the base of the ceiling. It suits you, who’s already stumbling toward the kitchen expecting that Jeongguk is hot on your trail. The décor is simple, a few paintings on the wall, rugs and cozy furniture.

“I’m sorry if it’s cold in here, it’s always kind of cold in here,” You mutter, grabbing two mugs and giving life to your kettle. Jeongguk recalls that you were no longer in possession of your space heater, taken by Taehyung and himself and still unreturned. He debates running over to grab it, but your hand once more on his wrist, drags him to the sofa erasing the thought of walking out of that door. “Thanks for bringing me home, I promise I’m not that wasted. You don’t have to be so nervous.”

“No, I’m not nervous! Not because you were drinking anyways…”

“So you are nervous...why?”

“You make me nervous...in a good way!” He’s quick to regroup, noting the fall of your features, hating that it’s because of him. “It’s completely insane, but from the moment I saw you I…”

“Me too.” Jeongguk’s previously averted gaze rushes to meet you, already staring back. He doesn’t need to ask what you mean, confident that what you feel is what he feels. Confident that it doesn’t matter how insane it may sound. “It’s so crazy, but when I saw you yesterday something just clicked and I thought maybe it’s because you’re ridiculously attractive but then we talked and it was so natural.”

“I’m glad it wasn’t just me,” He takes a chance, hand sliding to yours, resting against your thigh. Your fingers tangle without stutter, the position meant to be, so full of warmth and understanding. “I saw you with Jimin a few days ago, I couldn't stop staring."

So long is spent staring, enjoying each other and the mutual affection that's like an aura engulfing you.

"Where exactly do we go from here?” Jeongguk tugs at his bottom lip, another quality that fills you with warmth.

“Why are you opening a tea shop?”

“What?”

“We’re practically strangers, I don’t even know your last name actually. So, if there’s some weird predestined love at first sight phenomenon going on here, I’d like to know everything about you before we proceed.” You click, smile a contagious thing, one that Jeongguk would be remiss not to embrace wholeheartedly. “So why a tea shop?”

“Well first, my last name is Jeon—”

“Jeon Jeongguk…” He watches you test the words against your tongue. “Cute. You’re cute.”

“Anyways,” He blushes. “I’ve always loved making tea. I learned it at a young age and then I started experimenting and decided that this is what I wanna do. I figured focusing on boba would draw more people in, but I also wanna expand on what I already know.”

“Well if anything, Hoseok will be there at least twice a day.”

“What about you?”

“I think I can make time, though you are really out of the way I might not be able to swing it.”

“I’ll pick you up, or better yet I can just bring it right to you,” He offers, amused but truthful. “No, but I mean how did you get into tattooing, and how did you learn tebori?”

“Ah…” Your eyes find one of the frames hanging nearest the window, a landscape that Jeongguk can barely make out aside from the distance of neon. “Well, I was studying abroad actually, in Japan. I was an art history major and I didn’t really know what I wanted to do so I thought getting away would help me figure it out.”

You think often about the day when your current occupation seemed so foreign, your adolescence always filled with imaginings of galleries under curation, days filled with frames and packed schedules.

“One of my classmates convinced me to go out with her one night because she wanted a tattoo and I wanted one too, so I didn’t really see why I shouldn’t go. She got hers first, a flower I think, and while I was watching the artist I was just blown away by the technique.”

“Tebori?”

“Mmhm, of course I’d seen the regular ink and needle, but this just seemed to me something on a deeper level and I fell in love with it. It’s probably the most insane thing I’ve done to date, but I finished my degree abroad and stayed in Japan to learn and now I’m here.”

“Why’d you come back?”

“It just felt like it was time...sometimes I wish I hadn’t or that I could go back to visit. Like it’ll remind me what it felt like in the beginning, make me feel like less of a failure. I'd actually get my tattoo.”

“You’re not a failure, we just have patches sometimes. You’ll figure it out, we’ll figure it out.” The steam of the kettle startles from the moment you're quick to exit to the stove, mulling words and recovering from the embarrassment of exposure over the steaming water. “You know, I don’t have tea so I hope hot chocolate is okay?”

“It’s perfect,” Jeongguk accepts his mug and the packet of mix, stirring it in time with his breathing. He’s left to the obvious blushing of his cheeks, musing his circumstance, sharing a drink with the perfect anomaly. He’s ignored the constant stream of vibration from his pocket, no interest in removing himself from the cozy bubble. “So this place is pretty shitty, I would know and I’ve only lived here about a week. Why do you stay here?”

“You live here? Wait...you and Taehyung are roommates, duh sorry. I’m still trying to catch up.”

“Yeah, thanks for the space heater by the way. I’m pretty sure I would’ve given in the first night if I had to sleep in the cold.”

“Ha! No worries, sometimes I do give in and I stay over at Jimin’s place. But I’m just not ready to let this place go yet, I guess. It’s not great, but change is hard and I’ve been here for so long.”

You're close along the counter, space invaded without invitation, gravitation controlling your every step. The rest of the night follows suit, closeness and appeal. You enjoy words and laughter, ignoring the possibility of the responsibility the next day alludes.

Somehow you find yourselves in your bed, faces close and bodies tucked beneath the thick duvet. You're glad the heat isn’t working tonight, Jeongguk wrapped around you like a boa, slowly falling into the depths of unconsciousness, the conversation lulling with each random topic. Your throat is strained from laughter and your brain is filled with more than it thought possible.

Inches are now centimeters and you’re snails inching toward the finish, certain but uncertain if the light of day will change the result of your exchange.

The morning following you wake much the same as you slept, tangled, breaths mingling between. Jeongguk is still snoring, blissfully unaware of the authoritative knock echoing from your front door. Hands pushing at your eyes, feet tingling against the cold flooring, you swing the door with an annoyance you’re prepared to unleash before you’re met with Taehyung.

His eyes are half frantic, neck craning to see around you.

“Taehyung?”

“Hey, I’m sorry to bother you, but have you seen Jeongguk? I’ve been trying to reach him since last night and he’s not answering.”

“O-oh...um he’s here, let me get him,” You mumble, allowing Taehyung, his eyes softening and features squinted, to step inside. You leave him standing in the living room, ignoring the knowing smirk, head bowed as you step into your bedroom.

You regret the gentle shove of his shoulders, and the hushed “wake up” that slowly but surely draws Jeongguk from his sleep. He looked peaceful, full of youth with his eyes stapled and breath steady rising and falling. His eyes are puffy when he raises, confusion laced features recalling that he wasn’t in his own home.

His arm extends, patting your side of the bed, unaware that you were the reason for premature awakening. “Hey sleepy head.”

“What are you doing up?” He finds your hand, grabbing hold in an attempt to pull you back to bed. Though you would be more than willing, Taehyung is sure to have heaps to say already, no reason to add fuel to the fire already blazing in his pupils.

“Taehyung is here,” That catches his attention, eyes darting to the door half open. “He said he’s been trying to reach you. He’s waiting in the living room, I’m sorry if you didn’t want him to know you’re here, I panicked.”

“No it’s fine,” He assures, sliding from the bed, the same chill that ate you catching him with bare feet. You follow him back out to Taehyung, who’s taken it upon himself to peruse the space, currently examining the coffee table with it’s day old mugs. “Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you.”

Looking between the two of you, your hand finding habit at Jeongguk’s shoulder, he shrugs. “No biggie, just thought you might be in a ditch or something. Turns out I was very wrong, so I’ll leave you to it.”

“I’ll just come with you, I should probably shower and change. I’ve got some stuff to take care of before the opening. I can’t believe it’s only a couple months away.” You drop your hand, leaving him to it, an awkward and unsure feeling settling in your stomach. It’s clear that Jeongguk is a bit embarrassed, not that you’re own emotions haven’t caused the sting of a heat in your cheeks. You wait for him to follow Taehyung, who’s already waved goodbye, hands in his pockets as he stalks away.

Jeongguk isn’t so quick, turning to your ground bound pupils, fingers drifting to the trace of your jaw and nudging you to greet him. You’re taken by the lack of hesitation when his lips meet yours in kiss, short and sweet, altogether unexpected. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” You coo, fingers brushing his cheek gingerly, rewarded with one more peck before Taehyung is groaning in the hallway, effectively tearing Jeongguk from you to catch up.

~*~

You’re warm, for the first time in a long time you’re warm, from your chest to your veins, head and toes, and it’s all because of Jeon Jeongguk. His departure wasn’t the last of him, the next few months full of meetings planned and spontaneous, your phone alight with too many notifications, every one taken in with the same adoring smile and your own obsessed response.

You would stop by Hoseok’s blessing him with a coffee, happily listening to his rambling about the horrendous new flavor Jin had him and Yoongi test the other night. Across the street you could just see Jeongguk through the window, lips pulled in concentration, pen scribbling on the pad in front of him. Though it was cute, you couldn’t help but to attempt to cheer him up, his eyes immediately finding you after he’s read the little note sent to his phone.

You would be sick with yourself if you were the one to witness the affection radiating from your expanse, but you couldn’t care less how many times Jimin fake gags or the small lecture you endure when Yoongi delivers flowers later in the day. You hold on to the feeling and you hope that it feels like this all the time.

“What are you working on?” Namjoon steps into your office, no other reason than his own boredom swallowing him whole, much like the cushions when he collapses into your sofa.

“Just some of Jeongguk’s sketches…” You noticed rather quickly the familiar book resting on your bedside table after your first night together, no doubt placed by Jeongguk before sleep could find him. You spent the morning getting to know his art better, so you could try to make it exactly what he wanted. You only just got around to transferring the sketches to your own notebook, hoping to have something to show him at his opening.

“He’s really good for you. I haven’t seen you this eager about sketching in a while.”

“You think so?”

“What, you don’t?”

“No, I just...I don’t want you to think I’m completely insane for jumping into this so suddenly. I mean, I think it’s insane that I could be so completely sure about someone so quickly and I think the world of you, so I don’t want you to be disappointed…”

He laughs, whole hearted laughter fills your office and you’re not positive how you should respond. Your hands are unsteady on your pen, ready for him to completely crush your soul, back to the same girl standing in his doorway all those years ago.

“Honestly, you give me way too much credit.”

“What do you mean?”

“The night that you showed up, I was wondering how I was even gonna keep this place open. The building wasn’t the most friendly looking, most people walked right past, the outside giving them the impression that the inside was just as decrepit,” He sighs, head supported by the arm of the chair, eyes holding the ceiling in place. “When you showed up I was seconds away from telling you to get lost, then you handed me your sketches and you looked so hopeful. You were my last chance, so really I should be thanking you for being so spontaneous, especially if it means you’re happy.”

“Wow, why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“I didn’t want to put more pressure than you already put on yourself. Plus, it doesn’t really matter now, does it? We’re doing pretty good, and that’s what’s important.”

The revelation is a motivation, your grip on the pencil tightening, strokes light and even on the page. Namjoon doesn’t say much more, silent inspiration while he falls into slumber, the only reason he ever finds himself meandering into your space.

“Knock knock,” Jeongguk peers around the corner, your finer flying to your lips, the other gesturing toward Namjoon, dozing peacefully. “Sorry, does he do that a lot?”

“Oh yeah, he pretends he wants to know what I’m up to then he’s out like a light before I’ve finished speaking.”

“I’ll have to try it sometime—”

“Watch it,” You warn playfully, sneakily closing your notebook so he can’t see. “What’s up? I figured you would be too busy filling orders for little ole me.”

“Never, and I want you to try this! I was thinking I could add it to the special menu. I know everyone is into the whole lemonade with boba thing which we do offer but I was trying to make a tea that’s more on the fruity side than the tea side because I know some people are put off by the tea taste, ya know?” He watches you uncomfortably closely, your face trained to be as neutral as possible while flavors explode, traveling to opposing ends of your mouth, battling it out, but ultimately left with no winner.

“You know, I appreciate the thought and I’m sure if you work on it some more it’ll be perfect but…”

“It’s disgusting.” He finishes for you sighing in defeat, collapsing in the chair across from you.

“No!” You round the desk, his arms ready to accept your slide into his lap. “It’s not disgusting, it’s just...not quite blended yet.”

He takes the to-go cup, sipping his own concoction. You wonder if he tried it at all before running over here, his habit of trusting your initial judgement extremely endearing, but unnecessary. It stems only from your admittance that you weren’t the biggest tea drinker and that you’re one of those lemonade with the boba people. His mission became clear, he couldn’t stand to see you walk into his shop knowing that you’ll be leaving with sugared lemons squeezed into juice. He has to make you the perfect tea if it’s the last thing he does.

He was set on making it for the opening, but to no avail, the sign flipped, his employees brewing away, his drop here only partially out of the necessity for his favorite taste tester. “It’s disgusting,” He decides immediately, fighting the urge to spit it back into the cup. “You have to stop being so nice to me, it’s cute, but I want you to yell at me like you yell at Jimin.”

“I don’t yell at Jimin!”

“You yell at Jimin all the time, lovingly, but there are voices raised.” Namjoon rubs at his eyes, tugging at the shirt riding at his abdomen. “We goin for tea or what? I swear people are gonna think we’re out of business with how often we close early.”

"Yeah, can you just give us a minute?" You try your best to be discrete, nodding toward the notebook on your desk.

"Yeah...Jimin and I will just meet you there." He leaves you, door clicking in his wake and you turn to Jeongguk with a ready grin, eyes wide with excitement.

"Is this one of those things where I should knock everything off of your desk? If so I'm down, but this is a weird time…"

"No! I have a surprise for you." You pull his journal from it's position beneath the stacks of paper on your desk. "You left this at my place your first night over."

"I've been looking for this! I was embarrassed to tell you I lost it, but it turns out you're a klepto." He teases, taking hold of the pages. "So you decided to hold it hostage?"

"I wasn't holding it hostage, I was working on…" You lift your sketchbook, flipping to the appropriate page. "These."

They aren't complete, but you want his first impression and suddenly you understand the tea thing. It's a radically different medium, your shared art actually pending ink on his body, but you don't want to go too far only to disappoint. He leans against the desk, not speaking, just staring, expressionless.

"If you don't like them we can talk about what you want changed, I just tried to make something I thought would fit what you've already got going."

He finally looks up, eyes glistening, your stomach doing flips. You're too afraid to ask what he's thinking, so you continue to wait, hoping he'll speak up soon and that you didn't insult him with your vision.

"I love them."

"Really? You don't have to worry about hurting my feelings, it's your body you know."

"Really, you're amazing. This is better than I could've hoped and I can't wait until it's permanent." His words are firm with sincerity, notebook laid to the side in favor of pulling you into his arms. "How am I supposed to compete? I can't even make tea for you."

"Relax, your tea is perfectly fine! I just enjoy the occasional lemonade. Come on, we'll go to the shop, you can make me whatever you want and I'll love it."

"Deal, but...I-we have a surprise for you as well."

"For me?"

"Yeah, I was talking with the guys the other day, we were talking about you..."

"You and the guys? This should be good."

"It is, I promise." He produces an envelope from his pocket, no scrawl on the outside, more mystery than you're ready for. “I was thinking about what you said that first night, about wanting to remember what it was like in the beginning.”

“What did you do?” You tear into the envelope, fingers moving so slowly you fear the skin will catch in the thin edges. What you pull is far from what you imagined, a ticket printed blue for a week’s time. Jeongguk stares at you expectantly, waiting for some form of reaction, but you’re not sure what to say. “This is a plane ticket…”

“Yeah, to Japan. We want you to go back and we knew you wouldn’t do it unless we planned it for you.”

“You guys didn’t have to.”

“We wanted to, I wanted to. The way your eyes lit up talking about that time in your life, I would do anything to give that to you again. So we want you to go to Japan, do something for you.” His lips land on your forehead, breathing you in while you process the unexpected gift. It’s more than you could ever imagine, but there’s a single string, dangling with uncertainty. You figure the only way to eliminate it is to pull full force, risk sounding ridiculous.

“What about you?” Jeongguk’s face scrunches in confusion, the inquiry the last thing he expected. His thoughts were far from himself, not naive enough to think his mind would be focused anywhere but you while you’re gone, but never thinking it would be a reason you’re unsure about going. “I don’t mean to sound stupid, but I’d miss you too much.”

“You can call me everyday, any time of day. I’ll be there, you don’t have to worry about me not being here waiting for you.”

“Or...you could come?”

“Oh, you want me to? I figured you’d want to do your own thing, not have me weighing you down.” Your arms find his waist, head resting against his chest, giggling at the prospect of Jeongguk being anything more than a comforting presence.

“Of course I want you to, I wanna show you everything.”

“I’ll have to figure things out with the shop, but—”

“Oh, wow I’m so selfish. Of course you can’t just drop everything to come with me, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” You shake your head, silently scolding your inconsideration. Jeongguk grabs hold of your shoulders, stopping you mid step, hand halfway to smack your forehead.

“I would love to come, I just have to talk to Taehyung about it. I’m sure he wouldn't mind taking on a little more responsibility. Actually he’ll probably pack my bags for me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I’ll probably have to catch a later flight, just to get things taken care of.” He thinks aloud.

“I think I can manage a few days on my own.”

“I promise I won’t be long.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

And now, we smile.

#bangtanuniversity #bangtanidx #bangtanarmynet #thebtswritersclub #jungkook x reader #jjk x reader #jeongguk x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fluff #jjk fluff #bts au #jungkook au #bts s2l #jungkook s2l

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babyybitchhhwrites · 4 years

Text

Mugen x Reader 18+

Title: In the City

Rating: Explicit/R-18+

Words: 8522

Warnings: cunnilingus, spit swapping, biting, creampie

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25298812

♥♥♥♥

The rain came suddenly and with the sort of vengeful, punishing force that put an immediate stop to the hustle and bustle of nightlife in the city. It seemed even the floating world of Edo, for as lively and vibrant as it was, could not claim immunity to nature’s unpredictable wrath.

You’d been lucky enough to secure a relatively dry spot for yourself under the safety of an izakaya’s roof awning. The notion of going inside to warm up with a bottle of sake flitted through your mind, very briefly, but then you remembered that your travel funds had already been greatly depleted on the journey here. You couldn’t afford the extra expense. At least not until you found a job, anyway.

You didn’t anticipate that being much of a problem in the capital though, and your heart gave a little thump when you peered out into the gloomy night. It was odd to see the once crowded streets now completely deserted. Empty, save the quickly flooding potholes in the road. The hazy outline of buildings loomed up out of the shadows all around you, faintly glowing lamps flickering here or there in the distance. You thought it strangely peaceful despite the rain violently hammering down on the earth.

It was far from quiet though, at least not compared to the small farming village you’d come from. Even the slightest noise sounded like a thunderous clap when everything else was immersed in silence out in the country but here it seemed there was a continuous din coming from every which direction. You could just make out the reverberating notes of a plucked shamisen further down the road. There was a baby crying in one of the adjacent houses, its baleful wails almost poignantly ironic when it bled into the racket coming from the red light district just one street over. A dog was barking somewhere nearby. Behind you, raucous laughter drifted out of the izakaya and brushed your shoulder like a passing stranger stumbling home, only further emphasizing your isolation in a city of thousands.

A shudder raced down your spine and you shivered, feeling strangely alone. You’d expected some amount of homesickness, yes, but it seemed too soon for that just yet.

There was no helping it when you were standing in the middle of an unfamiliar city full of nameless faces though. Knowing each of them had their own individual lives to lead that had nothing to do with you, a mere outsider, unavoidably made you ache for what you’d left behind. It was like being lost out at sea with no sign of land in sight. Disconcerting, to say the very least. But try as you might, you couldn’t seem to shake the impression of drowning within the expansive Edo landscape and you wordlessly shuffled aside when the door opened up behind you with a soft clack.

“Man, it’s really coming down.”

You snuck a quick glance at the man who’d stepped out under the awning with you. He turned his head to look at you too. The quiet beat of consideration that passed between two strangers only seemed highlighted by the pounding rain and then you looked away.

“Guess you don’t have an umbrella then.” He sighed as he moved to lean against the opposite wall.

“I wouldn’t be standing here if I did.” You said, casually offhand. The disinterested tone of your voice had been purposely constructed so as to discourage further engagement on his part but he either didn’t pick up on it or he didn’t care.

“Well, that makes two of us. Damn. My luck couldn’t get any worse.”

You tried to ignore him, to no avail. He just kept talking, having a one sided conversation with himself no matter how pointedly you stared out at the rain.

“I don’t even have enough to buy another bottle of sake so there’s no point going back inside. I’m not in the mood to get drenched though. Same probably goes for you too, huh, sweetheart?”

Lifting your brows, you turned to regard him with nothing short of scandalized affront. Was this how all men in Edo talked to women? You weren’t convinced of that, particularly when you took a second look at him. His skin gave off the faint impression of copper, ruddy with a cool undertone that seemed to suggest he hailed from the south. There was a slight accent too. Noticeable but hard to place. The realization that he was also an outsider to the decadent world of the capital should have been of some comfort to you, inspiring a sense of solidarity if not camaraderie. Something about him put you on the defensive though and you couldn’t decide if it was the sword strapped to his back or the scruffy, unkempt appearance he was unapologetically touting. Shady. Exactly as you’d been told the people in the city would be.

You narrowed your eyes at him in warning.

“Scary.” He murmured, clearly more amused than intimidated. “You got a name?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“I’m Mugen.”

“I didn’t ask.”

Snorting, he dropped his gaze lower and his lopsided grin turned wry. “You a runaway or something? Looks like you got your whole life stuffed in there.”

You turned your attention to the furoshiki sitting at your feet. He wasn’t necessarily wrong in his estimation - you really had shoved as much as you could fit inside and it looked close to bursting - but you didn’t appreciate the insinuation that you were a child simply disobeying their parents. You hadn’t run away so much as you’d snuck out in the middle of the night to avoid a confrontation you knew you’d never win. The farmers in the country were distrustful of the city on principle alone, often citing the gambling houses and pleasure quarters as proof of Edo’s inherent corruption from within. You weren’t about to waste your time trying to explain that to him and risk being labeled a bumpkin though, so you merely offered a delicate sniff in response.

“Snooty. I like that.”

Your mouth twisted in a scowl. “I am not snooty. You’re just a boorish brute and I’ve got nothing to say to you. That’s all.”

The stranger who was no longer a stranger in your mind but, rather, a man called Mugen gave an overeffected shrug. “No skin off my nose. How old are you?”

“What part of ‘I’ve got nothing to say to you’ don’t you understand?” You could feel your face starting to grow hot.

Laughing in a strikingly boyish manner, he pushed off the wall and stepped closer. The hair on the nape of your neck promptly stood on end and an unseasonable chill raced through your body as he closed the distance on loose, confident strides that spoke volumes about the sort of life he’d led. A predator. That was all you could think to call him and you were apparently the weak, isolated prey animal he’d set his sights on. Something not unlike panic started to claw at your throat but you already knew running would be a futile effort. You were effectively cornered. Trapped.

Your only option was to stand there, frozen to the spot with your heart pounding a frantic beat against your rib cage. The thought that this is how a hunted rabbit must feel when a half starved fox was closing in for the kill flashed through your mind and then camped there. You were just as helpless as the hare though and, craning your neck back, you met Mugen’s infuriatingly attractive half-mast gaze head on.

He seemed to like that and hummed in quiet approval. “You’re awfully talkative for someone who claims they’ve got nothing to say. I think we just haven’t found the right topic yet, sweetheart.”

“How arrogant.” It was a real struggle to keep your tone neutral now. “Why do you think I owe you any of my time?”

Ignoring the question, Mugen reached out and you instinctively flinched. He only grasped your sleeve between lax fingers and listlessly tugged on it though, not at all unlike a child. “This is your nicest kimono, isn’t it?” He asked instead. “It’s well made but old. Even I can see that and you think I give a damn about clothes?”

He inelegantly snorted and you took that as your cue to jerk out of his hold. “What is your point?”

Another flippant shrug of his thin shoulders. “Just making an observation. Is that a crime?” You pursed your lips together and he pressed on, satisfied with that. “I bet if I took a look in your bag, the rest of your shit is even more beat up than what you’ve got on now. Not a fancy silk kimono in the bunch.”

“And?” You said archly. “Is that really so condemning?”

Comfortably slouching, Mugen slipped his hands into the pockets of his pants with a testy sigh. “And it’s obvious you’re not from around here. Not the city, at least. You’re a country girl, aren’t you?”

The breath caught in your throat. You suddenly couldn’t speak; all of your witty, sharp tongued remarks failing you when you needed them most, but your silence seemed to be answer enough for him. He smirked.

“Thought so.” Piercing gaze roving down your ramrod stiff body, Mugen regarded the furoshiki at your feet again. “Considering how full you’ve got that bag, it’s not hard to figure out your angle. A sweet little girl from the country who ran away to Edo for something more than a life of farming. I’m right, aren’t I?”

A tense beat of quiet passed over the spot under the Izakaya awning.

“I’m not a little girl.” You stammered. It was the only thing you could think to say.

“Coulda’ fooled me.”

Hunching his shoulders, Mugen turned on his heel and unhesitatingly stepped out into the late summer downpour. You watched him go, reeling and knocked off course. Buoying in the tumultuous sea of doubts suddenly assaulting your mindscape in a torrential flood that made the rain storm seem a mere drop in the bucket by comparison. He’d come to you like a tsunami, abrupt and without mercy, ravaging your resolve in one fell swoop before receding just as quickly.

He was a force to be reckoned with, of that you were sure, and he hadn’t even acted in a way that was outwardly aggressive. Mugen simply was what he was. A beast. Perhaps even the most dangerous of them all, because his retreating back sparked a feeling deep inside your gut that could only be described as longing. He was a threat to your person, your entire being. But there was no denying his magnetic pull and you didn’t stop long enough to consider the possible consequences of further engaging him. He hadn't really left you with any other choice.

You moved to step after him only to trip, stumbling over your bag.

Swooping down, you hauled the considerable weight of your past life up over your shoulders and stepped out into the rain. It was cold on your flushed skin but a welcome reprieve. Your hair was plastered to your skull in a matter of moments, though you hardly even noticed it as you scampered after him like a naive, hopeful stray.

If asked, you wouldn’t have been able to explain why you did it. You weren’t even entirely sure yourself. Maybe Mugen was simply the closest thing to an acquaintance you could lay claim to here in Edo or, perhaps more likely, he represented a much needed harbor of safety in this floating realm of hedonistic duress. You weren’t sure where to go from here or what to do with your new found freedom. But if he could ground you, even if only for one night, you felt certain you’d be able to face the unfamiliar city in the light of day. That’s what you tried to tell yourself, at least.

But he didn’t ask.

“Put your stuff wherever.”

Clutching the furoshiki in a death grip, you glanced around at Mugen’s room. It was small, though not exactly cramped. Humble would likely be a good word for it.

The simple, unadorned inn was surprisingly quaint. It almost reminded you of back home but there was no mistaking the sheer difference in its construction. This was not the simple, economical structure of a farming village but rather the distinct product of an extravagant city that was forever evolving in more and more decadent ways. It only looked modest and unassuming because it had been designed that way. You could see the signs all around you, from the meticulously polished wood to the immaculate state of the tatami mats that were without a fray in sight despite the no doubt heavy foot traffic they were burdened with. It left you feeling decidedly out of place and you awkwardly stood standing by the doorway.

“I don’t want to intrude …”

Mugen scoffed and shot you a flat look over his shoulder. “Little late for that wouldn’t you say?”

Your cheeks warmed but if he noticed, he paid it no mind.

Moving further into the room, Mugen pulled the sword strap over his head and somewhat carelessly dropped the weapon onto the floor. His drenched happi came off next, tossed aside without a second thought. The white shirt underneath quickly followed and you squeaked in surprise - not because you were fool enough to have expected anything less staying with a man you’d only just met but because he was skin and bones. Gaunt didn’t even come close to describing it.

You could make out almost every single knob and divot in his spine. The hard lines of his shoulder blades jutted out, stretching the thin layer of skin across his back like brittle rice paper until it seemed as if the bone might rip through it if he wasn’t careful. The grooves of his rib cage were clear as day even from behind and you gulped, swallowing your nerves so forcefully that it left you momentarily lightheaded. You’d never seen someone so skinny before. The apparent fragility of his body was misleading but, even though you would have otherwise assumed him weak and frail, you still recognized that he was actually quite strong. Maybe even stronger than the boys back home who spent their days plowing fields and chopping wood who were twice his size.

The impression of sharing a space with some mangy, feral dog only grew stronger while you watched him step up to the window facing out over the street and slide it open. You were able to see every muscle in his arm as it flexed with the motion, slight as it was but so densely packed that it appeared to violently bulge under ruddy skin. You quickly realized your initial assumption had been off by some margin. Mugen was all skin and bones and hard muscle, and you were starting to suspect that he was one of the most dangerous men in Edo.

You abruptly felt some concern about following him here, back to his room at the inn, but then he turned to regard you with an expectant lift of his brows and you relaxed. For the time being, at least, you were safe with him. He was just a mutt looking for some company on a rainy night and he had no reason to harm you. It was fitting, given that you, too, had no place to call your own or anyone to share it with. Birds of a feather and all that.

“Is here fine?” You asked, moving to deposit your overflowing bag in the corner.

“I don’t give a damn.”

Mugen lifted his arms over his head in an exaggerated stretch that left his skin pulled so taut it was a miracle it didn’t split open right before your very eyes. The gaps between his ribs made your stomach clench and you quickly looked away, untying the furoshiki with trembling fingers. Everything inside was soaked. Not that it really mattered. His earlier estimation had been absolutely correct and all the clothes you’d brought with you were as good as trash. A glaring sign of your roots up in the mountains, far away from civilization and talented seamstresses.

Sighing dejectedly, you tied the cloth back up so you wouldn’t have to look at its contents anymore.

“Something wrong?”

“Not at all.” Straightening, you turned and walked over to stand next to him in front of the window. It was still pouring outside and the mismatched pitter patter of raindrops on the clay shingle roof provided the room a strangely calming ambiance. It was peaceful here despite the ever present noise of city life.

Curiously, Mugen peered over at you for a prolonged moment. “Aren’t you cold?” He said at last.

Now it was your turn to shrug. “I don’t have anything dry to change into.”

He clicked his tongue, closing the distance between the two of you in a single step.

You froze, heart pounding in your ears when his narrow frame brushed up against yours without a hint of pretense or deception. Mugen’s demeanor was honest to a fault as his hands found your hips and settled there, guiding you forward until you were pressed up against him and you could feel the faint warmth of his body bleeding through your wet kimono and into you. A shudder rippled down your back, as anticipatory as it was anxious. You weren’t sure what to do - did he expect submissive compliance or wanton hunger? - and you held your breath when he leaned close to put his mouth next to your ear.

“Neither do I but I know how we can warm each other up.”

You lifted your hands to halfheartedly grasp at his bony wrists. “Isn’t this happening a little fast?”

“Sorry. I don’t like to waste time if I can help it.”

Tilting your head, you warily glanced up at him and whatever he saw in your face made him laugh.

“Don’t look at me like that. We don’t have to if you don’t wanna’. Despite what you think, I’m not actually a brute.” Narrow eyes twinkling with mischief, Mugen used his hold on your hips to steer you around so that your back was facing the open window. “But I can promise you won’t regret it. I’m leagues above those country boys you used to fool around with.”

“How modest.”

That was all you managed to get out when he abruptly tightened his hold and hefted you up into the air. You yelped, surprised, and he plopped you back down almost immediately. Realizing he’d set you on the window sill, you fixed him with a disgruntled scowl as you huffily attempted to right yourself. The ease with which he’d plucked you off the ground had affected you more than you were willing to let on though, your insides vibrating at the casual display of strength while you struggled to find your orientation again.

“A warning would have -”

Mugen silenced you with his mouth.

You jolted, fuzzy surprise washing over you at the sensation of coarse lips working against yours. He wasn’t gentle or slow. The exact opposite of every other kiss you’d ever been on the receiving end of. His ministrations were conversely demanding and rough, bordering on sloppy as he forcibly pried your mouth open so he could taste you.

Gut clenching, you acquiesced with a muted groan. Mugen swallowed the sound and tilted his head so your lips were slotted more firmly together and he could delve the wet, sticky heat of his tongue past your teeth. It brushed yours in a slow, languid lick towards the back of your throat, making you swallow on reflex. He smirked into the kiss and you shuddered. This was as foreign to you as the city. Brash and formidable where you’d only ever experienced tentative, coaxing pecks before. It had you burning up in a matter of moments, your chilled nipples pebbling against the innermost layer of your kimono until you had no choice but to squirm at the heady sensation.

It was like being lit on fire, you were sure of it, and you gratefully tipped your face towards the ceiling when he leaned back to regard your dazed expression. Smug and confident. Pleased.

“It’s been a long time since I was last with a girl as honest as you.” He husked, the sly note in his voice not escaping your notice.

“I am not honest.” You fixed him with a frazzled look of warning. Mugen didn’t seem to buy it though, continuing to hover over you with his hands bracketing your thighs against the window sill, and you irritably huffed. “What would make you say that, anyway?”

“The better question is what wouldn’t.” Reaching up, he grazed the rough pad of his thumb over your bottom lip which parted for him as if on command. “You’re not a virgin, are you, sweetheart?”

You hesitated, thoroughly caught off guard by that question. “No.” You said at last. It wasn’t a lie. You’d just never been with someone like him before.

The corner of his mouth twitched higher. “Good. I won’t have to hold back then.”

Mugen dipped his thumb into your mouth before you could draw a breath of protest, effectively silencing you again. Noising a weak complaint around the intrusion, you shot him a plaintive look but he remained as undeterred as ever. The pad of his finger pressed down on your tongue, making it writhe under the pressure in a tantalizing dance that had him drawing a slow breath of excitement. His other hand lifted and cupped your breast through the soaked cotton, giving it an experimental squeeze. Static zapped through you at the indelicate friction and you sat up a little straighter, pushing your chest further into his palm. He was still focused entirely on your mouth though, leaving you with no choice but to seal your lips around the base of the digit and obediently suckle.

He offered you a quiet sound of approval. It wasn’t hard to figure out what he wanted, but you found it difficult to shake the feeling that your childish trysts with the village boys down by the creek had not properly prepared you for what Mugen had to offer. He was an entirely different breed. His own animal, as dangerous as he was gangly. The little voice in the back of your mind tried to insist that you weren’t ready for this - whatever this was - but your body seemed to have a mind of its own. When he slipped his hand inside the folds of your kimono, you readily arched into the touch. When his fingers found your stiff nipple you writhed and when he unceremoniously tweaked it, you gasped. You’d never felt so desperate from such simple, tactless attention before but you couldn’t deny what it was doing to you even if you’d tried.

Had it been anyone else pinching your nipple hard enough to draw a groaning whine from the back of your throat, you would have smacked them across the face. He was far too rough with you, insensitive and unnecessarily crude in the way he handled your body. You were ashamed to realize just how much you actually liked it though and when your pussy fluttered eagerly at the rough treatment, you subconsciously squirmed again.

Mugen released a soft moan at the sight of you falling apart right before him, pushing down with his thumb and manually prying your jaw open until he could look straight down your throat. “Shit …” He paused to lick his lips, and you tracked the motion with your eyes. “You ever had a cock in your mouth, sweetheart?”

You jolted, molten heat flooding your guts when the mental image of what that must be like overwhelmed your thoughts. The notion had never crossed your mind before. The boys back home hadn’t been presumptuous enough to ask. You would have called such an act dirty if they had, adamantly refusing to put your mouth on the eager pricks they just as happily rutted into you with. They weren’t deserving of such dutiful submission. But it was different with Mugen. Not only did you want to do it but you could all too easily see yourself taking him as far as you could, right to the limit of your gag reflex, and it was enough to have you subtly grinding on the window sill underneath you.

The dizzying magnitude of your arousal brought tears to your eyes as you shook your head, numb and quietly keening for him.

“Can’t say I’m surprised.” He murmured, pulling on your lower jaw when you tried to close your mouth. “I don’t think it’s very popular outside of the brothels. Guess you’ve probably never had anyone go down on you either, huh?”

Your eyes widened when you realized what he was suggesting. “Thash dirhi!”

Lazily smirking, Mugen curled his fingers under your chin and tugged you up straighter with his hold on your mouth. “Hey, don’t knock it til’ you try it. You probably won’t get this chance very often so you should be happy. Stick your tongue out, baby.”

Hesitantly, you obeyed. Your tongue slowly unfurled and tentatively slipped over his thumb even though your instincts were going haywire, screaming in protest to this degrading humiliation. The curious arousal searing your veins was all but palpable though and you watched, mesmerized, as he leaned close to hover over your face. Those thin, coarse lips parted, oozing a bubbling wad of saliva that dripped down towards your outstretched tongue at a tauntingly staggered speed. You whined, realizing too late what he was doing but not having the presence of mind to try and fight it. All you could do was observe its gradual descent and when the cooling spit touched its mark, you shook.

The glistening string that connected the two of you broke apart when he straightened to admire his handiwork, an expression of deep satisfaction flashing across his narrow face. “Now swallow it. Tell me how that tastes.”

His thumb retreated from your mouth, allowing you to do just that. The distinct flavor of his mouth clung to your taste buds as you choked down Mugen’s spit but it was, surprisingly, not half as repulsive as you would have guessed it to be.

Dazedly, you swayed on top of the window sill and croaked out “It wasn’t terrible …”

“Putting your mouth on someone's cock isn’t much different. Not dirty at all.” Looking quite smug, Mugen withdrew entirely and sunk down on his knees. You watched him with your heart in your throat, weakly trembling when he palmed your thighs so he could spread them wide. “Pussy, on the other hand, can get a bit messy. If you know what I mean.”

“I d - don’t know what you mean …”

He hummed as if he’d expected as much. Anticipated that response. Your mind was running a mile a minute as you followed the motion of his hand when he reached for the lower half of your kimono, hardly daring to breathe. It was almost impossible to wrap your mind around what was happening and even harder to grasp the fact that you were letting him do whatever he wanted with you. There was some kind of disconnect here.

But you couldn’t find it in yourself to complain as he parted the cotton and shoved it aside so that it bunched around the obi circling your middle. You were suddenly exposed from the waist down and you shuddered so hard that your eyes seemed to vibrate in their sockets. Mugen was attentively inspecting your bare cunt, his nose a little too close to the curling tuft of hair for your liking, and you instinctively tensed when he reached up to touch you.

“Calm down.” He huffed. “If you really don’t like it, I’ll stop. I don’t think that’ll be a problem though.”

“But it's so - ah!”

His fingers found your slit, spreading the puffy little lips open without pause, and you rocked back against the edge of the window. Your face felt like it was on fire as you gaped down at him, the unmistakable sensation of beading sweat on your brow only adding to the damp quality of your skin after walking through the rain. No one had ever looked at you with such plain hunger before - at least not down there, when your core was inches from their face and they could see all of you and smell your cloying arousal in the air.

Whimpering, you twisted on the sill and tried to close your legs. The high strung embarrassment making your pulse pound was too much. You couldn’t stand to have Mugen, this stranger, unobstructedly staring at the core of your body like this but he was positioned in such a way that you couldn’t shut him out. Your knees merely knocked against his arms, the attempt seeming to spur him on rather than dissuade him.

He grunted and shouldered his way further between your thighs so he could dip his face close. You drew a sharp breath to object but the sound puffed out of you in a frazzled squeal when his tongue darted out to trace the length of your labia from bottom to top. Wolf-like gray eyes roved up the length of your body to fix on your slack face. He looked like something wild and untameable. Something savage, particularly with his open mouth hovering over your cunt. You could just make out the glint of flat, blocky teeth in the sparse light that was stretching from the burning paper lamp off to the side. It made him appear almost inhuman and for the first time since stepping into this room, you felt the tickle of genuine fear at the back of your mind.

Mugen was going to eat you, both figuratively and literally. God, why did that excite you so much?

“Please …” You blubbered, not knowing what else to say.

Dark lashes fluttered as he turned his focus to your defenseless pussy again. “It’s a little too early to start begging for it, sweetheart.” He muttered, chuckling darkly when the puff of hot breath on your exposed clit made you twitch. “I haven’t even started yet and you already look like you’re gonna’ cry.”

Pausing, he pressed the rough texture of his lips against the gummy meat of your petal soft inner folds and mouthed at you. A strange choking sound erupted from your throat, prompting him to press into you tighter until you could feel the rough scratch of chin stubble teasing your cunt. The room began to swim as you rocked against the window, throwing your head back with a half stifled wail. You caught the sound of him swallowing the taste of you, his jaw opening wide to encompass your tingling clit in hot, wet warmth and then suckling. Spine snapping ramrod stiff, you lurched under him and blindly kicked out, your lips parting on a silent scream.

The intensity of the sensation was too much. It was difficult just to draw breath when your cunt was lighting up in brilliant, overwhelming sparks of pleasure you’d never so much as fathomed before. You realized, in a far off, dreamy sort of way, that you’d been correct in your earlier estimation. Mugen was nothing at all like the boys from the village who only knew how to fumble and stab at you with their pricks. This was something else altogether. Heady and intoxicating, and your toes curled in delight when he lapped at you with his tongue. Another lick passed over the thrumming pleasure button nestled between your folds and then another. He abruptly pulled off you with a rough suck that made your soul feel like it was slipping out of your body, the accompanying masculine grunt of satisfaction he issued rushing straight to your loins. You could hardly stomach the sheer magnitude of arousal you were all but suffocating under because of him.

“Mugen …!” You gasped, fumbling to grab hold of him. His fingers, his wrist, the haphazard shock of hair atop of his head. It didn’t matter. You just needed to feel him under your hands.

“I knew you’d like it.” He rasped, self-satisfied and confident as he grinned up at you from his spot between your legs. “Aren’t you glad you trusted me?”

You managed to snag a fistful of his brown hair and you arched, presenting your slick cunt to him. “Trusting you might have been the worst mistake of my life.” You hissed. “Please don’t stop …”

Softly groaning when you tugged on the strands between your fingers to encourage him back into action, Mugen shot a smolderingly fierce look up the length of your body. “Awfully demanding for someone who didn’t even want me to do this, aren’t you?”

“I'm sorry.” It sounded like a plaintive sob.

Noising a pleased hum, he relented at last and lowered his mouth to your cunt again. The fingers on your labia spread, pulling you further open for him, and you seethed when he tauntingly flicked at your clit with just the tip of his tongue. Thighs twitching, you pulled on his hair again but he refused to budge. He seemed content just to roll the meaty little nub back and forth, side to side, occasionally crisscross to keep you on alert. Never too much pressure though, nothing too direct and satisfying enough to send you over the edge. It was maddening and you keened, not caring who might hear when you were half hanging out the window. The only thing you could focus on was how all the sensation in your body seemed to have funneled down into a fine, pulsating pinprick of static electricity and he was relentlessly toying with that vibrating cluster of nerves like he was getting paid to do it. You’d never felt such dizzying desperation in all your life.

“Mugen! Please! Stop teasing me! I can’t ta - aaake it!”

He was watching you writhe from under the hooded fall of his lashes, sallow cheeks hollowing out when he deigned to suck at you again. You almost came up off the sill, that’s how hard you arched when the tension in your loins doubled and then tripled. Delirious, you jutted your pelvis up and humped his mouth in a lewd display of carnal distress that would surely embarrass you later when you remembered this moment. But for the time being at least, all sense of dignity had been thrown to the wayside. Thoroughly useless to you when he was making you feel so good. You just wanted release and you wanted it now. But, much to your groaning disappointment, he pulled back when it became apparent that you were getting close, leaving you to sob brokenly at the loss of his tongue.

“I’ve got one rule.” He intoned, his voice thick and guttural. “I’ll go down on you as much as you want but you’ll always cum on my cock. No exceptions.”

Feeling hysterical, you sat up straight and fixed him with a wild eyed look. “Then do it!”

Mugen snorted. “Bossy now that you’ve got a taste of it, huh?”

You wanted to reach out and choke the life right out of him. You suspected he’d probably like that though, hesitating when you saw him reach for his pants. A new wave of anxiety washed over you, uncertain and nervous. He was so different than any other man you’d ever known that you couldn’t help wondering if this would be very different too. You’d only seen a handful in your short life, after all, but the breath still caught in your throat when he shoved the baggy material down his legs and his cock sprung up into the air. Ruddy, like the rest of him, but a shade or two darker. The mess of curly dark hair at the base looked more fluffy than coarse and you suddenly realized that the hair on his head was the same way. It had felt like an impossibly thick mass of silk between your fingers and you wondered if the strands crowning his dick were just as smooth to the touch.

Your mouth started to water and you swallowed hard, wondering if he’d let you return the favor later. He probably would.

“C’mere, sweetheart.”

Starting, you jerked your attention up from his crotch. Mugen was already reaching out to grab you around the waist and when he pulled, you let him drag you down onto the floor with him. You trembled with jittery anticipation as he sat back on his haunches and guided you into his lap. Hands finding his bony, narrow shoulders, you squirmed over top of him while he took a moment to glide his finger through the mess he’d made between your legs. Each brief, fleeting touch to your throbbing clit made you jump but he was apparently serious about wanting you to cum with his prick wedged inside you. He was purposely avoiding the sensitive pearl, focusing most of his attention on your slick entrance. You sincerely hoped you’d be able to find release like this.

“You’re soaked.” He laughed, the humor in his voice anything but innocent.

“Because of you.” You snipped back halfheartedly.

“That’s right. Because of me.” Drawing a slow inhale, Mugen used his hand on your hip to push you down while the other guided himself to your dripping hole. “And don’t you ever forget that.”

A gasp caught in your throat when you felt the glans touch your sticky labia and you jolted, rising up on your knees a fraction of an inch. He merely squeezed your doughy soft flesh all the harder, forcing you down until the tip of him was pressing into you. Forcibly spreading the meaty lips apart in daunting slow motion. Breaching your body at such a staggered pace that you had no choice but to comprehend every individual blinding wave of pleasure that washed over you, one right after another.

You keened, digging your nails into Mugen’s flesh as you gradually sunk down onto his hard length. Reflexive tears sprung up in your eyes while you reveled in the sensation of being stretched out around him, seemingly right to the absolute limit. It was overwhelming and somehow not enough at the same time. You could hardly think straight anymore, your once frantic mind now grinding to a complete standstill. Every ridge, every vein, the slight curve of him. You felt it all. Such acute hyper awareness was foreign to you but you basked in it, groaning deep in your chest when you finally settled on top of his thighs a small eternity later.

The stuffed full sear of penetration was exquisite.

“Gods, you’re tight.”

Grunting, Mugen wrapped his long arms around you and shoved his face into your neck. You inhaled a sharp, faltering breath as you curled your arms around his shoulders. With a weak, experimental bounce, you rocked into him. He groaned, squeezing you so tightly that there were sure to be blooming purple splotches in the shape of his fingers come morning. You didn’t care though. The promise of absolution spurred you on and you repeated the motion, dazedly moaning when his cock exerted a delightful amount of pressure on your upper wall.

“Little minx.” He all but growled, taking a playful nip at your pulse.

Mugen leaned forward then, using his iron like hold around your middle to keep you seated on his lap so he could lazily thrust up into you. The tension in your guts increased and you wailed. His pubic hair tickled your clit, sending tingling shockwaves spider webbing all throughout your cunt and making you clench down around him. That seemed to punch the air out of his lungs and he wheezed. The slight but powerful muscles in his arms trembled slightly with the effort of holding himself back as he flexed up into you, working your contracting passage loose with a steady patience you hadn’t exactly expected from him.

It was driving you mad, the exact opposite of what you’d wanted. Seething through your teeth, you clutched at him all the harder as you struggled to get one of your legs out from underneath you. A triumphant spark lit up inside your chest when you managed to brace your foot on the tatami, the angle all wrong and sure to leave you sore the next few days, but you didn’t care. All you could bring yourself to care about was chasing that promise of release with him and you used your newfound leverage to bounce in time with his thrusts. The steady clap of skin on skin gradually rose in the air, blending almost seamlessly into the ever present patter of pouring rain. You could just make out the sticky wet squelch coming from between your thighs every time your pussy sucked him in deep on every downward thrust and that, too, would likely embarrass you later.

In the heat of the moment it was one of the hottest sounds you’d ever heard though and you gasped in delight as you clawed at his back. The worryingly pronounced ridges of his spine that had alarmed you not all that long ago now only added to the appeal of his lithe frame driving into you, over and over again with increasingly powerful thrusts. It didn’t take long at all for his tempo to pick up as your squeezing walls relaxed around him, driving into you hard enough to knock the air right out of your lungs.

You couldn’t seem to catch your breath any longer, the heaving grunts and groans bursting out of your mouth only making it all the harder to pull in oxygen. He was panting too, though not as labored despite the physical exertion he was putting his body through. It was in many ways astounding that someone who looked so horribly malnourished could keep up this kind of effort for so long and his stamina was far greater than you’d been prepared for. All of your previous encounters with the opposite sex had ended within minutes after starting but this was much more intense. Prolonged and drawn out. Mugen showed no signs of stopping any time soon and your leg quickly grew tired in this awkward position, aching almost as badly as your pussy.

With a frustrated wail, you went limp in his arms and let him ragdoll you for an extended beat. You caught the sound of him chuckling breathlessly against your neck but you were no match for him. That much had been obvious right from the start though, and you didn’t care. The driving force of his smoothly gliding thrusts was satisfying enough now that he’d picked up the pace and you chose to focus on that instead. Cumming like this did not seem like such an impossibility any more.

“Muh - Mugen …! You feel so - oooh good!”

“Yeah? You like that, baby?”

You jerkily nodded and buried your hand in his hair, gripping tight at the scalp. A faltering groan rose up out of him, rewarding for your trouble, and you choked when he changed the angle of his thrusts. He seemed to be hitting deeper and reaching further into your body than before. The head of his cock tickled your cervix and you jerked on top of him when the jolts of pleasure made starbursts erupt across your rapidly blurring vision. It lit every nerve ending in your body on fire, swallowing you in a rush of carnal bliss.

Mouth hanging wide open, you flung your head back. Mugen tightened his arms around you, threatening to suffocate you right on the spot if you weren’t careful, and tipped forward on his knees. Your back hit the wall just under the window sill with a solid thump, causing you to cry out with renewed desperation. His unruly hair was sticking to his face as he bent over your trembling body and slammed into your squelching cunt at the perfect angle to attack the dense, thrumming cluster of nerves just on the other side of your inner wall. Your trembling leg flew up into the air and curled around his narrow waist, squeezing him as tight as the tired muscle would allow. You were so close you could practically taste it on your tongue and he seemed to recognize the distant, doped out look pinching your expression for exactly what it was.

“You gonna’ cum for me, baby?” He said, struggling to get the words out.

Your response bordered on hysterical and the words came out so scrambled that even you had no idea what you were trying to say anymore.

Mugen didn’t seem to mind though and, baring his teeth in a leering smirk, he shoved you further up against the wall until your neck started to scream in protest. “Yeah, I got you all figured out now. That sweet spot is mine. This pussy is mine.” Ducking his head, he latched his mouth onto the swell of your breast where the kimono had slid open and bit down. Hard.

You shrieked, the pain meshing so suddenly with the pleasure that you forgot how to breathe for a split second. Your cunt spasmed and squeezed, but he remained undeterred as he continued to fuck into you while he animalistically marked you as his. Every muscle in your body instantly locked up in dizzying tension and, with a strangled groan, the coil snapped.

Coming up off your breast with a triumphant groan, Mugen watched you spasm and writhe throughout your hard won orgasm. It was intense - easily the most intense sensation you’d ever experienced - and you felt like something wild as you shook on his cock. You couldn’t see. Couldn’t hear. Only feel, and it threatened to bowl you right over the longer it wracked your body from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. His thrusts never faltered though, continuing to drive into your creamy cunt until you were sure you couldn’t stand much more. Sensitized and raw, you were like freshly wrought clay in his arms while he chased his own release, looking like some heaving, half starved beast above you.

“Fuck, you feel so good!” He practically snarled. “Keep squeezing me like that! I’m getting close!”

A high pitched, overstimulated whine clawed its way up your throat as you clung to him all the more fervently. Mugen’s hard, bony shoulders started to tremble under your palms, the only outward sign that he was telling the truth, and your helpless bleating quickly took on a more dire tinge when his hips began slamming into you even harder. Faster. His pace was quickly losing its rhythmic push and pull, becoming increasingly more frantic with each passing second. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head from the sheer force of his thrusts, an unseemly dribble of saliva creeping from the corner of your mouth. You couldn’t have been less concerned about it though. All of your limited brain power was focused on one thing and one thing only.

Mugen was going to cum inside of you.

“Shit,” He sounded winded. Like he’d been sucker punched. “Did you just get even tighter?”

You wordlessly groaned, unable to form a coherent sentence even if you’d wanted to.

The coarse sound of pleasure that rumbled inside his chest had your pussy lighting up all over again and you subconsciously clamped down around him. Mugen lurched over top of you, slamming into your aching pussy with all his might once, twice and then a third time. A full bodied shudder rippled down the length of his spine, you could feel the power behind it as the roiling wave systematically worked its way down to his groin. Hips stuttering, he let loose a seething howl that made your toes curl in response and then you felt the hot, sticky mess of seed flooding your cervix in the next heartbeat. You gasped when it kept coming, one spurt after another, all of it settling in heavy clumps against your palpitating inner walls.

Stunned, you didn’t dare move while he tried to catch his breath. The thick, viscous discharge seemed to bubble inside of you, quickly adjusting to your body’s temperature as if to blend in, but it was still painfully noticeable. You’d have to remember to buy some contraceptive herbs first thing in the morning.

Hissing, Mugen slowly detached you from his cock and lowered you down onto the floor just a brief moment later. His arms were shaking, apparently tired in the aftermath. “Damn.”

You shifted so that your neck wasn’t all bent up, keenly aware of the sloppy mess oozing out of your well fucked hole without him there to stopper it. This wasn’t the time to complain about that just yet though and instead you settled on “You curse a lot.”

He grunted a humorless laugh and looked up at you from under the fringe of hair that had fallen over his brow. “You gonna’ wash my mouth out or something?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Scoffing, Mugen reached out to grab the meat of your arm. You tensed, the inexplicable thought that he was going to kick you out of his room now that he’d gotten what he wanted flitting through your mind. A tinge of disappointment sparked to life in your chest, unbidden, but he merely pulled you against him and flopped down onto the floor. The resulting thump seemed to rattle the walls, though neither of you paid it any mind. You were far more concerned with figuring out what he was doing, eying the man suspiciously, whereas he appeared intent on catching a nap. His eyes were closed and the labored canter of his breath slowly evened out while you watched him, studying the subtle signs of relaxation on his face. He was quite handsome when you looked at him like this.

It was too good to last though and his brows furrowed after a quiet beat. “Are you planning to watch me or sleep?”

You cocked a brow at that. “The beds over there.”

Clicking his tongue, Mugen rolled over and half sprawled himself out on top of you. His topmost leg thrown over yours, arm stretching across your middle, yours and his clothes still all askew. You couldn’t help thinking it was the most unfriendly bear hug you’d ever received. A mangy stray right down to the letter, it seemed.

“The floor will do just as fine. Trust me.” He yawned. “I’ve slept on much worse.”

“But the bed -” You futilely tried to reason.

“Sleep now. I’ll fuck you nice and slow in the morning. Promise. Just be quiet.”

You huffed. “At least let me take off my kimono then. It’s soaked!”

Mugen lifted his head and cracked an eye open so he could peer over the length of your body, the interest in his half asleep face undeniable. “Alright, deal.”

#samurai champloo #mugen #mugen x reader #self insert bullshit #my wriitng

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captainsolare · 4 years

Text

Confessions - Denki Kaminari

Summary: You have a hopeless crush on your classmate Denki Kaminari; Unfortunately, confessing your feelings doesn’t go according to plan.

A/N: the punch quote is from a prompt list @promptlywritingideas wrote! I tried to make this as gender-neutral as possible so I hope it worked out well :)

Word Count: 1,968

Tags: None that I can see? Please let me know if I need to tag anything!

--------

Music played as you laid on your bed, feet kicking in the air as you hummed along to the love song that was currently playing. You rolled over, hugging a pillow to your chest as you tried to imagine what it would be like if you were hugging Denki Kaminari instead. You stole a glance at the Polaroid you’d sneakily taken of him and squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment, What would he think if he knew?

There was a knock on your door and Uraraka appeared in your doorway, rolling her eyes and giving you a pointed look when she realized what you were up to. You turned the music down and sat up, pouting at your friend. “I know what you’re thinking but it’s not what it looks like.” You protested.

Uraraka joined you on your bed, sitting cross-legged across from you. “I know exactly what you’re thinking. You like Kaminari but for some reason, you think it’s ‘utterly hopeless’, even though you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met.” She said, adding air quotes to emphasize the words utterly hopeless. You gave her an incredulous look but it quickly turned into a sigh. She was right, you absolutely did think it was hopeless. Kaminari was all over the other people in the class, the girls especially, but he acted differently around you, almost like he was nervous to be in your presence.

“Well, what do you think I should do then?” You said, rolling the corner of the pillow in between your fingers. Uraraka noticed your nervous habit and gave you a comforting pat on the hand. “Personally, I think you should tell him.” You felt your eyes nearly pop out of your head, “Tell him?! No way!” You protested, heart beating faster at even the thought of admitting your feelings.

Uraraka tipped her head to the side, preparing to ask you a difficult question. “Let’s put it this way, how would you feel if you didn’t tell him and he moved on? How would it feel to see him with someone else, every single day of that relationship? To see someone else making him happy, all because you didn’t tell him?”

You sucked in a breath and tried to ignore the tears pooling in your eyes, unprepared for a question like that. You put your arms to the side to support you as you leaned back, opting to look at the ceiling instead of trying to face her, you don’t think you could right now. “If he’s happy, I’ll be happy for him.” Uraraka knew that was a lie, but she didn’t press the issue. She simply placed a comforting hand on your knee, “Just think about it, okay? No matter what happens, you know I’ll be here to support you.” You felt the bed shift as she got up, and you watched her slip out of your bedroom. She momentarily popped her head back in to tell you goodnight, “Goodnight friend!” You called, then the door shut, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You slumped back onto the bed, love songs still playing softly in the background, and thought about what Uraraka had said. How would you feel? You hadn’t really thought about it if you were being honest, you were too caught up in the feelings of panicking whenever he looked your way, and your heartbeat speeding up as you caught a glimpse of his smile, especially when it was directed at you; you had kind of hoped these feelings would last forever, the awkward yet fun feelings of having a crush, but, you frowned, if someone else was in the picture, you’d be forced to confront the more uncomfortable feelings; the ones revolving around getting over someone.

You glanced at the picture on your wall again, you’d snapped it on one of your class beach trips, he was on a rocky outcrop with a beaming smile on his face. You had no idea if he knew about it or not, if he did he hadn’t said anything, and you were content to act like it was a secret. Your heart panged at the thought of someone else being with him, holding hands with him, going on dates with him. The thought of someone being all touchy with him during class burned in your chest. Maybe I should tell him…

For the next few days, you brainstormed ways and places to potentially tell him, but it seemed like the universe was not on your side in this endeavor. By a stroke of luck, you two were picked to go get the groceries together, and you tried to tell him while you were waiting for a train to pass, but just as you began to speak the train came barreling through, drowning out confession #1. You saw your second chance when you caught sight of Kaminari sitting on the couch, the common room empty. You sat on the ottoman across from him and said what you needed to say, when he didn’t respond you started to tear up, but then he pulled an earbud out of his ear, “Oh hey Y/N! Did you say something?” “Nope! Not a thing!” You replied, standing up and quickly running upstairs to your room. When you arrived, you leapt onto your bed and screamed into your pillow. Foiled by earbuds? Seriously?!

Your third chance came during a rainstorm, you had both forgotten your umbrellas and were huddling under an awning together as you waited it out. You cleared your throat and started to confess but of course, a huge crack of thunder hit at that exact moment and drowned you out.

Several more attempts were foiled, his phone was on mute, your love letter had gotten lost in the mail, your text failed to deliver, he seemed to be missing every single hint you were giving him. “This is hopeless! The universe hates me!” You complained to Uraraka that night, your frustration mounting. You glared as she giggled at your plight. “I’m sure it’ll work out eventually, maybe you just have to keep trying.” Your shoulders slumped, “Yeah I guess you’re right.”

During training one afternoon, you saw another chance, he was taking a quick water break. “100th time’s the charm.” You muttered. and walked over to join him. “Hey, Kaminari?” You asked, gulping down your nervousness, and a bit of your pride. “Yeah, what’s up?” He asked, wiping the sweat from his brow. You nervously wrung your hands, trying your best to make eye contact with him. “Uh, can I talk to you about something?” You asked nervously. Before Kaminari could answer, Sero was calling him over to help him with something. “I’m really sorry but can it wait?” You gave a quick nod, and he dashed off, you watched after him for a moment, then grabbed a drink of water.

Uraraka surreptitiously came up to you, under the guise of taking a water break. “How did it go? Did you get to tell him?” She asked in a loud whisper. You shook your head, “Sero interrupted before I could.” Uraraka clenched her fist, “Stupid Sero.” You shrugged your shoulders, “Maybe this isn’t meant to be.” “Maybe what isn’t meant to be?” Kaminari asked, making a sudden reappearance at your side. You jumped, hand on your chest as you whirled to face him. You quickly recovered, seeing his concerned face. “Oh. It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” You said, luckily Aizawa gave you an out of this potentially awkward conversation by calling you over to discuss your training. Kaminari looked at Uraraka confusedly, his glance seemed to ask why you were acting so weird but Uraraka only shrugged, it wasn’t her place to reveal your feelings for him.

That night, you decided to go out into the woods for a good cathartic screaming session. “Why the hell do I have to have a crush on KAMINARI?!” You yelled at the top of your lungs. Unbeknownst to you, Kaminari was on a night run jogging past the spot you were at that same moment. Thoughts raced through his mind, I think I recognize that voice? But I’m not sure.

He picked through the forest, trying to find the mysterious person who apparently had a crush on him. He was surprised to find you in the middle of the clearing, he certainly didn’t expect you of all people to have a crush on him. You looked up when you sensed the presence of another person and you felt your heart stop when you realized it was Kaminari standing there. Quickly wiping the tears of frustration from your eyes you feigned a smile, “Oh hello Kaminari. What brings you here tonight, haha?”

He tentatively picked his way over to you, and stood before you awkwardly, “Um, well I was out for a run and Uraraka told me to keep an eye out for you since you hadn’t come back yet, and then I heard screaming so I… came over.” You shut your eyes in embarrassment, I’m going to kill her. “Ah, so you heard that? Don’t worry about it, gotta run!” You tried to run away but he grabbed the back of your shirt to stop you. You froze in your tracks at the contact, but you didn’t turn around, you felt you couldn’t face him. “Did you mean it?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper. You slowly turned around, but you looked at your feet, not wanting to see the look on his face. You gave him a small nod, a few tears falling to the earth below. “Can you say it again? That you have a crush on me? I just want to make sure I’m not dreaming.”

You looked up sharply, this was not the reaction you were expecting, but you humored him; though your heart was pounding and you still had no idea how he felt. “I-- I have a crush on you Kaminari. I have, for a while now.” You admitted. Kaminari took a deep breath, “Look,” He began, and you shut your eyes, preparing for the impending rejection you thought for sure was coming. “I- I think I like you too. You make my brain go all ‘wheyy’.” He finished, doing an impersonation of how he was when his brain was fried by his quirk. You just stared at him, unable to formulate your thoughts into words.

“If I kissed you right now, would you punch me? Because I really want to kiss you but not if you’re going to punch me over it.” His question sent your head spinning and your heart into a flurry of cartwheels. You nodded breathlessly, and to your surprise, Kaminari merely planted a kiss on your forehead.

You blinked at him, confused. He saw your look of confusion and gave you a small smile, a blush painting his cheeks, “I just don't want to mess things up by going too fast. You’re too important to me.” You returned his smile, finding his nervousness endearing. “Well, can we start by walking to the dorms together? And maybe going out this weekend?” He nodded enthusiastically, intertwining his hand with yours.

You walked back to the dorm, the stars lighting your way. When you opened the door, still holding hands you were met with a chorus of the girls cheering and various “awws!” You searched the group frantically and finally saw Uraraka at the top of the stairs. “Uraraka! I’m going to kill you!” You yelled, dropping Kaminari’s hand and running after your friend as she dashed away. “Should I be concerned?” Kaminari asked, sweat forming on his brow. “I dunno man, you’re the boyfriend, not me,” Sero said, elbowing him in the side. Kaminari turned, a beaming smile on his face, “Oh, I guess I am, aren't I?”

#kaminari x reader #denki kaminari #bnha x reader #kaminari fluff #kaminari oneshot #aurora borealis

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neakco · 3 years

Audio

Songfic Based of You Will Be Okay (Stolas' Lullaby)

AO3

Robin looks to the moon and tries to convince himself that his friend will be okay without him, even if he never return.

You (I) Will Be Okay

Robin sat on the cold roof and stared up at the full moon. The night was one of those rare clear nights in Gotham, beautiful, but colder then normal. Patrol was over now but he needed the silence that the night brought. He needed the time to figure out what he was going to say, or rather what he planned to write. Why did love have to be so difficult.

Robin laughed darkly to himself before glaring lightly at the moon, “You know, I used to think that love was something fun, something to indulge in to pass the time. Something simple like a game or a good book.” He looked down, “Something I could put down when I had to.” He laid back on the ever colder stone and remembered the look in Marinette’s eyes when she found out he was Robin. There wasn’t the awe or disgust he expected. Instead he saw pride and worry. Then she gave him the lecture of a lifetime about how important secret identities were. He had smiled then and complained that she was his trusted friend and that he thought friends weren't supposed to keep secrets from each other. The memory brought a similar smile to his face now. She had huffed and tried to argue. It was hard to take her seriously then when he had thought her so adorable.

Robin frowned, he had honestly meant what he had said back then, but he had also lied when he told her she now knew all his secrets. “All but one.” He whispered to the moon.

Robin sat up and looked over the edge to a small window 3 building over that had a small light on. “Mari, you are supposed to be asleep by now.” He muttered and let out a laugh. The laugh died suddenly. Who would remind her to sleep when he was gone? NO! He shook his head, he couldn’t think like that. She will be okay. “You will be okay love.”

Robin tore his gaze from her window and laid back down to stare at the moon once more. A black cloud started to form and he was reluctantly pulled into another memory.

He had been out for a walk when the sudden storm had rolled up. It had gone from daylight to pitch black in a matter of seconds before the air shook and waterfalls began. They had both raced for the same dry awning and almost collided in their haste to stay dry. She introduced herself as she pulled a towel from her bag and offered it to him. He had been about to refuse since she was shivering and obviously needed it more, but a large bolt of lighting chose that moment to crack. The skies were alight and the reflection danced across her eyes. Mesmerized slightly he had again opened his mouth to refuse but instead said, “The light of the suns pales next to the light I see in front of me.”

Robin sat up again, he had been mortified that night. Never before had his own voice betrayed him that badly. He doesn’t regret it though. She had started to laugh, and he will remember that sound until the end days. It was also the start of their friendship. Of nights spent talking or playing games. Of days spent hanging out. He would miss her dearly when he was gone, but at least she would be okay.

He looked again to her window, the light now out. Somehow it made the night seem so much colder. At least he knew what he wished to say to her.

“The fighting will start soon. I don’t know if I will make it back or even when. It is my hope that by the time you get this it will be too late to stop me. It is my hope that the fight never reaches you and at most you will hear the very distant sounds of war. I know you once called me your inspiration, but it is my hope that when the dust settles you will be able to find yourself another muse. Even if I survive I know that my loving you will be too dangerous, I know it will hurt to see you with someone else, but I think I can live with that. I just hope that every once and awhile you look to the sky and remember me, remember our friendship.” He stood and wiped away a tear before it could fall. “You will be okay. I will be okay.”

Robin reached for his grapple in order to return to the cave when he was suddenly tackled back to the roof. He went to retaliate but stopped short when he saw his attacker.

“How dare you Robin" tears were streaming down her face.

“Mari I…”

“No, don’t you dare. You are a coward Birdy. You don’t just get to decide that I will be okay without you, that it will be fine to take off in the night like some kind of martyr.” He could feel the cool drops falling in torrents upon his neck and face.

Robin trued to open his mouth to explain himself, or apologize, he wasn’t quite sure which. Marinette’s hands covered his mouth and she shook her head.

“No, you said your piece to the moon. It is my turn to talk. I love you. I don’t know if you feel the same, but I love you.” She released his mouth in order to emphasize her words with her hands, “I love you Birdy and I am coming with you. Even if you don’t feel the same and even if I am just a friend to you. I don’t care, I refuse to let you gallivant off on your own suicide mission. At least if I come I can watch your back.”

“You love me?” Robin was flummoxed. This was not in any of his plans.

Marinette blushed, “Y-yes, but did you not hear anything else I said?”

“I did, but the rest is unimportant.” Robin grinned, there was no way he was going to die now.

Marinette sputtered, “Unimportant?”

Robin leaned up as he pulled her down for a light kiss, “Marinette, I have loved you for awhile, I just didn’t think you could ever love me. So let me have this one moment before my life, our lives are tossed into war.”

Marinette turned impossibly redder and Robin could feel the heat she gave off radiating through his suit. She buried he face in his shoulder and mumbled, “I can do that.”

This took a long time (for me) because I couldn't get the song's father/daughter dynamic out of my head but the friend that suggested the song said it seemed really romantic.

I also couldn’t decide on which Robin this is so readers choice.

Taglist: @novemberandmay

#maribat #angst #robinette #robin x marinette #happy ending

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loveless-scribes · 3 years

Text

Lovely LS Art!

A lovely piece of art from the fabulous and talented @dags-sz for the story I’m currently co-writing, Angelus Mortis. A wonderful visualization of our secondary couple’s first meeting! Thank you so much Daguer for lending your fabulous talent to this story! Please check out her work, she’s absolutely amazing and a pleasure to work with! <3

You can find the story here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13642600/2/Angelus-Mortis https://archiveofourown.org/works/26736001/chapters/69569037#workskin And the scene here: The third day, the sky split suddenly overhead, releasing a downpour that drenched her to the bone. She went on wandering the streets, now with renewed desperation, cursing herself for not better informing herself on the workings of the mortal realm. Wishing she had thought to ask Jui what "money" was. She was accustomed to the conveniences of the Underworld. Hunger meant seek out the kitchens. Boredom sent her to the gardens, to Kayt's cheerful banter. Tiredness sent her to the servant's quarters. The mortal realm meant searching and searching without quite knowing just what she was searching for.

She was beginning to despair of her rash decision. Bitter tears lodged in her throat. Even if she were to be killed by pickpockets and die in the rain on this cold night, she decided, it would still be better than the humiliation of having to see Thanatos again. Of walking him back to the castle even one more time.

She paused, catching sight of the dim windows of an establishment that was clearly closed. A forest green sign overhead read Wings of Freedom in gold lettering and underneath that, in smaller cursive the addition, Tea Shop. She approached the locale to seek shelter from the rain under the overhanging awning. Peering inside the windows, she saw an impeccably clean little café, with tables and chairs furnished out of warm cherry wood. She sighed and turned away from the view. What she wouldn't give to be sitting at Jui's side by the warmth of the kitchen fire with a mug of tea in her hands.

A shiver passed through her as she looked down and watched the water snaking down her arms and dripping down the hem of her chiton. What was she doing here? What did she think she would achieve by leaving home? What was she hoping to accomplish? Surely, she was the most foolish nymph in all of existence to have attempted such an imprudent escapade. She was a half-witted, bumbling, poor excuse of a – the sudden tinkling of a bell roused her from her thoughts.

A young man stood in the doorway of the tea shop, a large bag of parchment paper in his left arm as he opened the large, glass door to the locale with his right. His black hair was parted in the center and damp from the rain. His expression was one of annoyance that seemed characteristic rather than provoked. Cool, icy blue eyes were hooded by narrowed eyelids, his annoyance emphasized by his furrowed, thin eyebrows. He held the door open with his foot as he ran a hand though his wet hair, pushing the strands back from his face.

He seemed then, to notice her. Drawn, perhaps, by her own gaze. He looked her once over and Slayte was suddenly uncomfortably aware of her appearance. The flower garland Kayt had adorned her black hair with had long since been removed. Her hair was a wet, tangled mess. Her lavender chiton, ridiculously out of place in the mortal realm, dripped water like a wet rag. Try as she might to stand up tall and meet his eyes confidently, she could not banish the shivering of her bare shoulders. All in all, she knew she made for a pathetic picture.

He looked over his shoulder up and down the abandoned roads to confirm what he already knew. No one in their right mind would be out in this weather.

"We're closed." He told her. His tone was brusque, but his voice surprisingly calm and gentle, in contrast to his expression. It was oddly pleasant, Slayte thought. A voice she should like to hear again, when she wasn't soaking wet and being looked down on.

"I am aware." She answered quickly, avoiding his gaze, "I seek only shelter under this awning until the storm passes. Pray, pay me no mind."

The man blinked at her odd manner of speech. He turned his eyes heavenward, as if already regretting the next words to leave his mouth.

"Come in, it's better to get out of the rain inside." He wiped his shoes on the mat before stepping inside, holding the door open only for the fraction of a second it took her to make up her mind. She followed quickly, catching the door before it closed on her.

He switched on the lights and Slayte got her first, good look at the quaint establishment. All of the surfaces were polished to a gleam and the lighting was warm on the dark wood furniture. The chairs were lined with green cushions that seemed to be a trademark color of the little shop. Beyond the counter she could see a neat line of appliances, along with shelves that lined the entire wall filled to the brim with various assortments of tea, each labelled neatly in careful handwriting.

The kind stranger gestured vaguely to a table to her right and she pulled out a chair to sit down, glad to finally be off of her feet. The warmth of the room settled in slowly, and she soon stopped shivering. Although it was embarrassing to be dependent on the kindness of a mortal, it was the first such kindness she had been shown in the last three days and she was grateful for it.

She looked down on her leather-sandaled feet that had gone blue from cold and wondered if perhaps she would be able to survive in the mortal realm after all. She looked up as a cup of hot tea was placed on the table beside her and watched the steam rise from the dark liquid, spellbound.

"Drink that." The man commanded with the same careless expression before turning away.

"Oh! But… I'm afraid I don't possess any of the required money," she protested, hoping she was pronouncing the foreign word correctly.

The man in question gave her an incredulous look before answering, "it's on the house."

Slayte took this to be a reassurance of some sort, that it was alright to drink the tea. She breathed a sigh of relief, thanking the gods for listening to her prayer. How badly she had wished for a cup of tea!

"Thank you," she whispered, "That is truly… most kind of you."

She closed her hands around the teacup reverently, allowing the warmth to seep into her fingers before taking a long, indulgent sip.

"Did the rain wash your brain out of your head?"

She sputtered at the rude comment, swallowing quickly so as to avoid spitting out the precious tea. "I beg your pardon, my sir?" she asked, wondering what she could have done to warrant such a response from her benefactor.

"The way you talk. It's bizarre." He added, watching her with that same devil-may-care expression.

She flushed. She had taken notice that the mortals seemed to speak quite differently than the Underworld dwellers but had not had time to adjust to their speech.

"I…" she stammered, "I will take care to speak more appropriately."

"Eh?" he looked disgusted by her response. "Who cares? Just do what you want." He turned away from her and headed instead to the kitchenette behind the counter. She watched as he unpacked the groceries, washing the vegetables with care and laying them to the side. He set a pan on the stove and turned a dial. A faint click was heard before the stove burst into flame, heating the pan.

"Sorcery…" she whispered, spellbound.

The man pulled a knife from a block, and tossed it into the air, seemingly without thinking about it. It glittered in the lamplight before he caught it and flipped it between his elegant fingers before setting to work chopping up the vegetables. Salt wondered if it was normal for a mortal to be this adept with a knife. Even the robbers that had attacked her a day prior were fumbling with their knives in comparison to this man. She had narrowly escaped them by slipping into the shadows themselves, a skill she possessed by virtue of being born from them, but the fear they instilled in her had been very real. Their words had been deceptively charming and flattering. In contrast, this man's rude and brusque demeanor made her feel very safe.

Soon, her teacup was empty, and the delicious smell of spices and cooked vegetables wafted over to her nose. She was fearful of outstaying her welcome and her eyes darted to the window, wondering if the rain had let up enough for her to take her leave.

"Where do you live?" The stranger asked over his shoulder. "I can drop you off, if you want."

She had seen any number of city signs over the last three days but could not now recall a single one. She needed to say something, but she was oddly tongue-tied. What if he caught on that she had no home?

"That's quite alright. I'll just go on foot. It isn't far from here." She lied awkwardly. Only an entire world away, leagues beneath our feet.

"If it isn't far, why were you shivering out there in the rain?" he tossed back, unconvinced. His scowl making apparent that he knew she was lying to him.

She opted instead for silence, not wanting to make it worse. He walked back over to her table and placed two plates of noodles and mixed vegetables down. Had he cooked for her? A stranger? She had always heard that mortals were cruel and amoral creatures and although she had seen nothing the last three days to suggest the contrary, this man was swaying that belief. Warm and with a meal set out in front of her, Slayte was beginning to see that mortals were not all the same.

He took the chair opposite from her and began eating without preamble. Salt whispered a thank you and did the same, glad to finally be eating real food. It wasn't Jui's cooking, but it was delicious all the same.

"If you have somewhere to go, then go home after this. If you don't, there's a room for rent upstairs. I'm looking to hire someone anyway, if you want the job, I'll just take the rent out of your pay."

Overwhelmed by the number of words she didn't understand. Rent? Job? Pay? Slayte merely looked on mutely. "You will give me a… a job?" She queried, nonplussed.

He looked at her as if she were particularly dim-witted. A justified impression, she reluctantly admitted.

"You work. For money." He deadpanned.

"Oh." Slayte thought hard. Money was apparently a form of currency required for transactions, not unlike the coins she used for passage over the Styx. Only in the mortal world, money was required for nearly everything imaginable. Including resources required for life such as food and water. In her short time in the mortal world she understood that money was essential for survival. It was something everyone had asked her about. That, and…

"I'm afraid I don't have any identification." She admitted. "That will be a hindrance, will it not?"

The man chewed his food slowly as his mind worked. His expression somewhat softened, he answered, "Then we'll just make do with a verbal contract and I'll pay you in cash. That works out, right?"

"Does that mean…" Her eyes went wide. "I can stay here?"

"Yeah, sure, if you want the job." He rose to clear the table, and Salt jumped to her feet, unable to contain her excitement. "I do! Very much so!" She was close at his heels and followed him into the kitchenette, ignorant of the way he winced as she tracked footprints over the clean floor.

"I'm Levi." He introduced curtly. "You?" he asked, tearing his eyes away from the dirtied floor.

"My name's Slayte." She announced, extending a hand in greeting.

He looked her in the eye with that same irritated expression, ignoring her outstretched hand altogether before commenting, "That's a shitty name."

#levi ackerman #oc #Angelus Mortis #snk

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tsarinastorm · 4 years

Text

AA: Adam Sackler/Reader-Chapter 3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

It was starting to rain, that was just perfect, just what you needed. You were planning a move to Brooklyn and were supposed to be apartment hunting today. The rain was going to make it a miserable endeavor. You put on a light-weight dress shirt, short shorts and ankle height rain boots. As you head out of your apartment building, you see Adam hurdled under the awning. Of course he’s here.

“What’s up, tiger?” He asks as he changes his stance so he’s leaning coolly against the brick siding. How does his hair still look good in this rain? His hair still looks perfect, not frizzy at all from the rain and humidity, it’s not fair. Adam’s making it impossible to remain ‘just friends.’ Though Jessa was getting more and more distant from each of your minds, and you wonder what you could have with Adam if you’d met him some other way, or if he and Jessa broke up what you could have. You silence your traitorous thoughts, and respond to Adam’s comment.

“You stalking me now?” You ask with a smug smile.

“You know you’d love it if I was.” He says with a cocky smile, as you head down your street, he asks what you’re doing today. Because Adam has more flexibility in his schedule, which you don’t even ask why anymore, it’s an Adam thing, he comes along with you to whatever adventures you have planned. He asks what the plans are for today, so you inform of what your plans are while you open your umbrella to protect you from the drizzle.

“I have to go look at apartments in your part of town,” He hunches down under your umbrella, the height difference between you two yet again apparent. The way he’s crouched down, you’re surrounded by him: heat, and muscle. It would be easy for you to cuddle into him, but you do your best to resist that urge.

“Oh really are you finally leaving Manhattan?” He questions you, leaning further into your personal space. You jokingly tell him the truth, “The people here are too pretentious and elitist. I can’t take it anymore”

“Here I thought you fit in just fine.” Adam says not showing a fraction of any kind of emotion. As hit suddenly hits you what he meant, you turn to slap at his arm, acting offended. He suddenly starts laughing, one of his loud, head rolling laughs.

“Haha, thanks asshole. Now I’ll be going.” You say as you turn on your heels to walk away from him. Then you feel a large warm hand on your shoulder turning you back around. Adam offers his arm to you and says, “I’ll go with you, I won’t let anyone fuck you over.”

You link your arm through his and he grabs the umbrella so he’s now properly holding over both of you. As you walk, you tell him where you’re looking, and he has preferences. He’s made it clear that he’d like for you to live in Park Slope, which is conveniently close to his place in Prospect Heights. Guess you’ll work that out.

After touring several apartments throughout Brooklyn, you think you’ve found the one you want. Apartment hunting with Adam was entertaining seeing as he checked all the piping, picked apart most of them. He was adamant that several of them were over-priced and told you that he ‘wouldn’t let someone fuck you over on the price.’

This one was a nice, clean apartment in Clinton Hill and had good amenities. You loved the look of the outside of the building: classic style but had be updated to give it a chicer feel. Adam wasn’t a fan, but he accepted your decision with little rumbling. Now you were sitting down in the office of the landlord while he was working on the lease.

When he hands you the lease, he comments, “You know we have several couples that live here, you’ll fit right in.”

You’re shocked by his comment, even if he meant nothing by it. You’re blushing even though you wish you weren’t. Adam meanwhile was beaming, clearly enjoying the fact the man mistook you for a couple. He shouldn’t be feeling that way you thought, he was dating your friend, maybe this was getting out of control. You set the record straight to your new landlord.

“Wait, we’re not a couple” Your landlord doesn’t verbally respond, he just raises his eyebrows before talking to you about the lease.

****

Adam can feel the sweat dripping down his back, but he supposes that was job being the muscles of the excursion. He was helping Y/N move into her new apartment, and finished unloading all of the large furniture. Now, it was just unpacking. Jessa was there too, but she was directing the unloading as opposed to helping. Adam wishes Jessa wasn’t here, because then he could imagine that he and Y/N were both moving in here, or imagine that he was her boyfriend helping her move. Jessa was ruining his fantasy and he knew he needed to grow a pair of balls and break up with her.

As Y/N is setting up her tv and wifi box, Jessa moves towards the door looking at her phone. Jessa then announces, “I’m going to head out, I forgot that I’m supposed to have dinner with my sister Minnie.”

Adam knows that is total bullshit, an obvious lie. But if he gets time alone with Y/N then he supposes he can ignore the fact that his girlfriend is lying again. Y/N just turns her head towards Jessa and says, “Okay, thanks for helping. Bye.” Then she gets back to work. She’s wearing a cropped tank top and bicycle shorts that show off her toned legs and perfect ass. He can’t help but find himself distracted by how tantalizing she looks, he knows he’ll have to do something or he might not be able to control himself. He ends up sitting down on the floor next to her to help, and Bagel decides to come over and lay his head in Adam’s lap.

Adam helped Y/N unpack a lot of the big things and hook up some of the new electronics. They chitter-chattered and it felt natural, like this was the way things were supposed to be. Now, she had talked him into watching Hamilton, and he was trying to not ruin it for her. Though to be fair, once again he wasn’t able to pay attention to what he was supposed to be watching, because he was watching her instead.

Finally, he groans, stretches on her couch then says, “Fuck this is overrated. I mean it’s good but it’s not flawless like everyone says.”

“Adam, hush. I guess I can’t make you have taste.” She says and faces him. Now, he’s hyper-aware of how close they are. His forearm is touching her, and the outsides of their thighs are touching. The way she’s looking at him is making him think only of kissing her. Before he knows it, he’s leaning his head into hers, now just inches away, and she’s not pulling back.

“Maybe I already do have taste.” He tells her as her eyes watch him, waiting for the next move. Then he’s closing the last few inches separating them, but halts to let her make the final move. She does and closes the distance between them. Her lips on his, latching onto his bottom lip before moving again to the top lip. His hands go to her waist and hers go around his neck, twining through the edges of his hair. Adam deepens the kiss by breaking apart to bite her lip gently, when she gasps, his tongue enters her mouth. His tongue tastes every inch of her mouth he can reach, and it feels like they’re devouring each other.

She moves so she’ practically sitting on his lap, and he holds her closer. His hands move down to feel the curve of her hips, then go to squeeze her ass. She moans into his mouth and presses herself further into his hand. He thinks, she likes that, he’ll be sure to remember that. His other hands moves up to cup her breast, and it feels even better in his hand than he imagined it would. This gets a similar response from her, and her hips begin to grind into his growing erection. They stay like this for several moments, refusing to break apart, and it’s looking like they’re going to end up fucking on this couch.

Then, his phone starts ringing loudly ending the spell that’s come over them. Y/N quickly removes herself from him, and looks guilty for what happened. Adam sits there stunned before accepting that the moment is over and he checks his phone. Fucking piece of shit, he thinks as he then throws it down on the floor.

“Fuck, we did not just do that. We are going to forget this ever happened.” Panic has clearly over taken Y/N. She definitely was reciprocating, Adam thinks she must feel the same way. But she’s too good of a friend, too ethical to let their dilemma turn into something more.

“I don’t want to forget about it. You’re all I think about it.” He tells her. This sets something off in her because he sees her eyes flash before she snaps back with, “Well I am not going to be the other woman or the kind of girl who steals my friend’s boyfriend.”

“You’re not either of those things. Things have been over with Jessa for a long time. It’s not real what I feel for her. I’ll break up with her, I would have sooner if I knew I stood a chance. ”Adam says, confessing about he really feels about her and his current ‘relationship.’ She stands up and starts pacing, a nervous of habit of hers he’s learned. He gets up too and lightly places his hands on her shoulders, trying to calm her down without being too intimate and making her uncomfortable.

No, no. Because then she will know something happened.” She points her finger at him to emphasize her point. This is definitely not going the way Adam hoped it would. After his disastrous relationship history, he never thought he could have something like he has with Y/N, even though they’re not really together.

“Wouldn’t that be the point? I don’t want to pretend and bullshit anymore.” Adam says failing to keep his voice down. This whole situation is so frustrating that he could break something or pull his own hair out.

“You’re going to have to. Please don’t tell her.” Y/N snaps back at him and continues her pacing.

“Only for you. You’re making this worse than it is. I don’t have a real relationship with her anymore, we, us, have a real relationship—“ He gestures between them when he says ‘we’ and he wishes he could make her understand or somehow jump ahead in time when they’ve gotten past this. She doesn’t let him finish his statement before cutting him off.

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence! You went from Hannah then to Jessa, who was her friend, and now to me, who’s Jessa’s friend. Am I just some other woman in your string of bad decisions?” She shouts, and he can see in her eyes that she’s not sure how he feels or how she feels for that matter. Adam lets his temper get the best of him as he shouts back.

“Is that what you really fucking think of me?!” He tugs at his hair, and feels his anger continue to rise.

“What am I supposed to think? Am I supposed to think about how you’re my friend’s boyfriend! She shouts back at him, and that’s it for him. Adam goes out the door, slamming it on the way out. He’s furious, how could this go so badly after all they’ve been through together? This was supposed to be different, but maybe he was doomed to be in the same toxic cycle for the rest of his life.

**********

It had been two weeks since your encounter with Adam and he had since been radio silent. You assumed he was trying to give you space, and you wanted to give it time for things to cool off. Your feelings for him were uncontrollable and could be dangerous. You were a girl’s girl, you weren’t the kind of girl to steal another’s boyfriend, especially not one you called a friend. But with Adam, you could feel yourself letting go and only wanting to be with him. You also hadn’t heard from Jessa in two weeks either. You wonder if Adam confessed to her what happened and that was why she was ghosting you. You had desperately left her voicemails and texts just wanting to know that she was okay, and still nothing. Now, you were giving up.

When you’re walking out of the café, you see Jessa, looking like her typical bohemian self. She spots you and waves, you wave back out of politeness but go about your business. Jessa comes up to you, and starts a conversation.

“Hey, Y/N it’s been a while. How are you?”

“Good, great actually.” You curtly respond, trying to get away from her. At this point, you don’t even care enough to ask how she is, because she’s here and obviously okay.

“Can we talk like we used to?” Jessa asks, and it set you off. You find yourself pointing a finger at her.

“Are you fucking serious, you don’t respond back at all not even to let me know you’re alive and you want to act like nothing happened?” You accuse her. Everyone had shit going on in their lives but you don’t fall off the face of the earth knowing that someone is worried about you.

“I know I’m a shit person but please?” Jessa whines.

“I have a half-hour before I have to head towards my next meeting.” You say and sit down at a small table. She accepts and sits down across from you. Soon, she’s sharing the whole backstory of her relationship with Adam, and she tells you that he went back to her to help her raise her baby. That really surprises you, both she and Adam had conveniently left that part out until now. Suddenly their relationship made a lot more sense knowing that information.

“Wait, when did this happen with Hannah and her baby?”

“It was right before we met, so three months ago. He hasn’t been the same, and I miss Hannah. My friendship with Hannah was the biggest relationship of my life and I gave it up for him, and he doesn’t even fucking care.” Jessa says as she lights a cigarette.

“You’re not going to like what I have to say.” You caution, praying that she will accept that, and be content with venting to you. Considering what happened and how you felt about Adam, you really didn’t want to get in the middle of their relationship again.

“Say it, you’re always honest. That’s what I like about you.” Jessa tells you and waits for you to share your opinion.

“Sounds toxic. You’re his second choice, a consolation prize because he couldn’t get Hannah back. I think you know that but you’re afraid to let him go because you gave up Hannah for him and you’ve never felt love before.” You say and watch her reaction, because you know she will be pissed.

“You’re a fucking bitch,” she spits out and takes a huff from her cigarette. You knew she wouldn’t like what you had to say. She then softens her face before saying, “But you’re right. Have you thought about being a therapist?”

“No, not my thing. I just listen. I think you have to choose. Either keep this détente with Adam until one of you breaks, or end it and try to repair your friendship with Hannah. You already know this, I think you just needed someone else to tell it to you.” You say, and she gives you a big hug before she leaves.

You head back on your way, now that you’ve got that detour out of the way. Jessa probably wouldn’t follow your advice but as her friend you felt like you had to tell her the truth. Your phone buzzes and when you check it, you have a new voicemail from Adam. You delete it and continue on your way. You could never pursue something with him, so what was the point of continuing the friendship, or whatever you had with him.

*********

Adam sits at the table reading his latest script. It had been four months since he had come back from Hannah and two weeks since his last encounter with Y/N. Y/N hadn’t contacted him and he didn’t contact her either, trying to give her space. He expected to Jessa to bail out of their relationship soon, and he thinks that even she’s began to accept that it won’t last. Really he should have definitively ended it when he came back from Hannah that night, but Jessa let him go back to Hannah, and still accepted him back when it failed. Then he should have ended it after he kissed Y/N but he didn’t want Jessa put the blame on her, and he respected Y/N too much to do that to her. There’s a part of him that thinks it would seem ungrateful and cruel for him to end things with Jessa now. Though, he still might have to if she didn’t leave him soon because he knew he couldn’t stay away from Y/N for long. He was wallowing in his own misery now.

He was thinking of Y/N more than ever, and what could have been. He was missing her friendship too and would be willing to accept just being friends with her. Adam had never had a lot of friends in his life, but Y/N was a good friend who was willing to listen to him, and they had so much in common. Two weeks without her was enough for him. He pulls out his phone and clicks on Y/N/s contact and leaves a voicemail.

“Hey Y/N, this is Adam. Adam Sackler. I was wondering if we could talk again.”

Adam hears Jessa come into the apartment, and she walks in to stand beside him where he’s sitting at the table. She then decides to sit before proceeding. She gently grabs his hand and tells him, “Adam, this isn’t working. We’re not working.”

‘Uh-huh. What makes you say this now?” He nods his head in agreement. Out of all things he thought Jessa would bring up, he was not expecting that.

“Look, I held on because I was afraid to lose you, but we’re toxic for each other, and I’m your second choice. I deserve to be with someone’s fucking first choice, Adam. And, you should be with someone who’s your first choice.”

“I agree.” Adam says after swallowing and clearing his throat. Jessa wasn’t expecting that statement because shock is on her face when she asks, “What do you mean you agree?”

“I feel the same way. I have for a while, but I didn’t know how to tell you and I didn’t want to hurt you. You saying that is a relief, what made you realize it?” He admits.

“I knew things weren’t right between us, and they haven’t been in a long time. Then I ran into Y/N today and she makes me think rationally.” She says as she packs her things quickly. Adam doesn’t want to push her, so he sits quietly at the table. Jessa then comes back through with packed bag, which she sets down by the door.

“We don’t have many couples’ friends but I know that you and Y/N got close. I get to keep Y/N. Your friendship with her was nice, but to clarify, she is my friend.” Jessa says with her undertones clear, Adam now knows that she knew how felt about Y/N or at least suspected it.

“What? Fuck no, you two don’t even have anything in common.” Adam says feeling his temper flare up. Jessa was just downright infuriating sometimes.

“Yeah well, she was my friend first so back off!” Jessa screams back at him.

“You can stay friends with her for all I care because it’s not going to stop me!” Adam shouts defiantly. A look of realization flashes across Jessa’s face as she asks, “Wait, you really do like her?”

“Of course I like her, she’s my--” Adam roars back, but Jessa cuts him off before he gets to complete the sentence. He’s glad he catches himself before he gives too much away.

“You like like her? You do want to fuck her, or have you already?! Don’t you fucking dare! She is my friend and she probably wouldn’t do that anyway because she has fucking morals! But don’t fuck my friend, Adam!” Jessa screams at him, and puts her finger in his face. He definitely won’t be missing their fights.

“No I didn’t fuck her, but I definitely wanted to! I still want to, she understands me in a way you never have. But of course she was a friend of yours so she wouldn’t!” He finds himself yelling before he processes what he’s saying. Adam only wants to cut Jessa to the core. After the words are out of his mouth, he realizes what happened.

“You are un-fucking-believable. I’m going to visit Hannah, in case you care, seems she was my only real friend all along.” Jessa says before heading towards the door.

Adam puts his hands up in defeat, because he’s not going to make promises he can’t keep. He also doesn’t want to push Jessa, fearing that she’ll run to Y/N and turn her against him before he really has a chance to talk to her. Jessa grabs her bag and leaves.

Adam takes this as his chance to leave too. He can’t help but end up at Y/N’s doorstep, waiting for her.

***********

It was 10 pm and you had been up since 5:30. You were definitely about to crash, but luckily you were close to your apartment, just a block away. You walk casually, then you see someone sitting on the doorstep of your building. As you get closer, you notice that the person is a man, and man who looks like Adam. You think you must really be into him to the point that you think you’re seeing him everywhere.

Shit you think when you get close enough to realize that it is him. The guard at the gate must have let him in because he’s been over here so often. He looks amazing, like he always does. He’s wearing a tight-fitting t-shirt that shows off his arms and his muscular chest. While you try to figure out what to say, Adam begins by saying, “Hey, Y/N. you didn’t respond to my voicemail, so here I am.”

“Well, Jessa’s not here. I have no idea where she is.” You say and you shift your weight to your other foot. You stand a few feet away from where’s now standing on your stoop.

“I know, we broke up. She left.” Adam states. You can’t believe that Jessa actually listened to you. Though you’re now worried that you’re his third choice, since he showed up here right after she broke up with him. You’re not going to say that out loud so instead you inquire, “Then what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you.” He says and you know you’re doomed. You grab your keys and move past him to the door, not acknowledging his confession. Then, your heart over rides your head and you gesture for him to follow you inside. He obliges, stepping behind you and the two of you walk up the stairs to your apartment with tension laying heavy in the air.

#adam sackler #adam sackler x reader #adam sackler fic #adam driver #hbo girls #adam sackler x you #reader insert #slow burn

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bunny-hoodlum · 4 years

Text

Don't Leave Her(e)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20434955/chapters/48480602

Sasuke follows an Otsutsuki into a world very much like our own.

It lead him farther than he’s ever gone.

A new dimension opened up to him.

He would like to get used to this by now, but no. His Space-Time dojutsu still left him winded.

He stepped out of the side of a building into a narrow alley, the abyssal portal closing behind him.

An assortment of unknown sounds bombarded his senses, so loud they seemed in competition.

Chugging, whirring, whooshing. Blaring horns not unlike the those on the freight ships back home. There were beeps that stuttered and others that dragged on.

Amongst the din was a constant shuffling like a herd in the distance. There too played music with instruments he’d never heard before.

It was rather… chirpy.

A noisy creak alerted him. A door a few feet to Sasuke’s left opened outwards and a man in a white apron and white hat stepped out, trash bag in hand.

But…

Sasuke hadn’t sensed him.

The man took no notice of Sasuke as he headed for the dumpster. Soon as he tossed the bag in and headed for the door, he halted to a stop.

The cook scrutinized him for a good minute.

“Ain’t never seen anyone wear a cape so casually, ‘cept the cosplayers on the bridge. You lost?”

Sasuke shook his head. “Just passing through.”

The cook craned his head back, looking down his nose. “Uh-huh. From where?”

Sasuke looked to his right, taking note that the alley lead to a brick wall. The building ahead appeared to be five storeys tall, its fire escape evidently unused.

Having no answer, Sasuke strode for the exit.

“Wait. Wait now, hold-” The cook grasped at Sasuke’s left arm, only to come up empty. “-up?” His grip slackened enough for Sasuke to slip through.

Leaving the alleyway had been like emerging from a tunnel of ignorance.

The world opened up to him, blinding at first, then overwhelming with the sheer activity of life all around him.

Thousands of people filled these streets. Phones to their heads and bags in their arms. Vehicles he’d never dreamed before sped along what seemed like a concrete river. Monitors which hung off of the faces of sky-reaching buildings flashed obnoxiously with gleaming faces and polished products.

A monstrous scream accompanied by an enormous shadow swept overhead, spiking his heart rate.

A giant bird?

No. It had a long, conical body with a tail like a shark and blades for wings. It was evidently metal, shining white as it hummed fiercely towards its descent.

An old anecdote from Naruto’s teen years came to mind, the only one where he rode upon a giant flying island turtle. But he doubted Naruto could help him understand this UFO any better, even if he was here.

Upon closer inspection, Sasuke noticed something: It had a bright red emblem on its tail.

A red leaf.

_____

The trail was gone.

Sasuke cursed his luck.

Perhaps they had merely passed through this realm.

But now Sasuke was stranded until his chakra replenished enough for another crossing. At this point, he was more inclined to return home than follow a cold trail.

Sasuke tugged at the collar of his cape, sweat slicking down his skin. The gesture brought more attention to himself, based on the passive stares he was receiving.

Just like back in his world, it was the height of summer.

He was missing the summer solstice festival. He couldn’t promise to go with them. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t like to.

Sakura said she’d send him pictures. She already showed him the yukata Sarada would be wearing. He wouldn’t be able to see the pictures until he got back, though.

The season was the same, but somehow it was much more stifling than he was used to.

Actually, it was a lot more of many things he was used to.

For starters, the roads back in his world are never this crowded. He feels like a minnow swimming against a current of impatient salmon, ready to be tossed out.

How is it that there are this many people existing in a single mile radius, and yet they have no perceivable life force?

He just couldn’t get his head around it.

_____

Sasuke needs to get his bearings.

He needs to prevent the Otsutsuki from feeding off any more God Trees.

What if there was one here?

It was worth to check.

Finding relief away from the crowds, Sasuke stepped into a wide side street. Square stone seats and benches lined the center, offset by a series of shrubs encased in stone boxes.

Shops lined either side, and overhead were diamond-shaped awnings that spanned the entire arcade.

As Sasuke strode past an eatery of sorts, cool mist struck his eyes and mouth.

He jumped back slightly, ignoring the looks from the customers seated in the patio dining area. From the awning of the restaurant was a system of black devices attached by a black wire. From the mouth of these devices spewed a constant production of mist that shrouded much of the patio from the summer heat.

Sasuke reminded himself to move on. And to stop getting surprised by the little things.

He was only bound to run into more.

____

This was the first time he’s seen Sarada since she was born.

She was two now.

Sakura held their toddler, her expression warm and a little exasperated as Sarada grabbed onto his forefinger.

Quite the grip.

Sarada began nomming on his finger.

Oh. That’s what she wanted it for.

“She’s been teething,” Sakura said. “I’ve tried frozen mochi, a homemade anesthetic gel, my parents stopped by with a kokeshi, all with limited success…”

Sasuke smiled at his adorable daughter. The hard bumps of her budding front teeth not unlike a dog’s play-bites, and he felt strangely proud of her. Proud of her health, her growth.

“I’m sorry to leave you with everything, Sakura.”

Deep down, he’d love to trade places with his wife, to experience the same joys and stresses as her.

She waved him off. “We’ve already discussed this. You’re fighting for peace of mind. Someday Sarada-chan will understand.”

Sasuke’s jaw shifted.

Because on his worst days, he hardly understood himself at all.

_____

It’s when Sasuke finally takes a moment to purchase food at a nearby grill stand that he realizes his currency is unrecognizable.

Figures.

He’s concerned he’ll have to make multiple trips back to this world. In which case, he better make the most of his time gathering intelligence.

His phone doesn’t work.

Of course. Why would it?

He has access to Konoha’s main databank; what Shiho and her ever expanding department of coders call 'the Intranet’. But here, nothing.

He thinks his technology may not be up to date, let alone remotely compatible. Another thing to look into, for sure.

Sasuke folds the phone closed and rests his mouth against the flat of his fingers.

His hard stare into the distance gains focus as he registers something. There on the television screen appears to be a familiar face.

But that had to be a mistake.

Sasuke got up from the stone bench and approached the store window displaying various TVs.

One had a drama, not unlike the new form of scripted entertainment cropping up in his world. Another showed a man at a desk and two other men were seated off to the side. There was a martial arts tourney held in an octogonal ring there, horses racing along a dirt oblong on this screen, and six people in brightly colored jumpsuits struggling up a flight of white stairs over on this screen. Why they kept falling down and getting back up, he didn’t understand.

But he imagined Naruto wanting to give it a try.

Ignoring these distractions, the one thing that really pulled at his gaze was the news coverage.

PM Sarutobi Extends Visit to Kumo no Kuni

That was him.

That was really him.

Liver spots and all.

Sarutobi Hiruzen.

He looked so different out of the robes and hat. The dark gray suit was tailored to fit, emphasizing his diminutive stature. He wasn’t that old yet, but he was getting there, and he would likely only continue to shrink.

Just when Sasuke’s imperfect reasoning had begun to toy with the possibility of reincarnation, Hiruzen was shown seated at a conference desk beside none other than A himself.

And the old hard-ass still had both arms.

Sasuke rubbed at forehead, shutting his eyes as he tried to process everything.

His forehead rubbing soon upgraded to firmly knocking against his skull.

No. He didn’t understand it all.

_____

He pressed his mouth to his wife’s small, round shoulder, earning a low, drawn-out moan.

A sharp wail disrupted this evening of stolen kisses and Sakura pulled away, suppressing her groan.

“Let me soothe her. It may be nightmares again.” She said, getting up.

Again, huh? Sasuke wondered what a three year old had to be afraid of.

His hand was on her shoulder in no time. He dipped in for a quick peck. “Get yourself ready for me. I’ll be back in a minute.”

His wife’s blush stirred the want more as she nodded obediently and reclined into bed.

Slipping out into the hallway, he made it to Sarada’s room.

She was standing and clutching at the rails of her crib. Her hiccups were frequent, almost violent and her sobs frantic.

She spotted him in the doorway, and it was like an instant switch. “Papa.” She chirped matter-of-factly.

He always wondered if it had been Sakura’s idea to teach her 'papa’ over anything else.

His father had always been 'Chichi-ue’ to him.

But Sasuke had demurred from taking the mantle of clan head. He had far too much to do. He had been the final Uchiha, the last true heir and he ran their name into the ground with his so-called 'wilding’ as Kakashi-sensei liked to tease. He needed to clean the slate. He needed to earn back his place.

Sasuke lifted Sarada up, inspecting her face for any trace of fear or sadness.

“Papa.” She reached for him, arms waving. She was perfectly fine now. He did say he would only need a minute.

As soon as Sasuke put her down, the pained screams started again. And in a panic, he scooped her up again.

Her big black eyes stared at him expectantly.

What was he supposed to do during this part?

_____

There was a curious amount of disquiet in a world so peaceful that Sasuke had to wonder what prevented it from falling apart at all.

Jashinist Slain after Tokonoha Commissioner General Indicates Group’s hand in The Nines Incident

“… There’s a lot of misconceptions going around about what we worship and the nature of our rituals. But it’s all purely symbolic. We invite people to see for their own eyes that we are not dangerous…”

Sasuke heavily doubted there were any misconceptions.

Former PM Senju Hashirama’s Legacy Brought Into Question

Sasuke wasn’t ready to go down that rabbit hole again.

Uzushio-Hi no Kuni Relations Worsen as the Fifth Anniversary of the Nines Incident Draws Near

“… They refuse to release the full list of the victims names. My daughter was nine months pregnant at the time. I just want to take her home. I just want to bury my daughter…”

Sasuke had the vaguest dread as to what this 'Nines Incident’ meant in this world.

But if there was no monster here like Kurama, then to what scale had been this destruction?

Momochi Zabuza Evades Arrest for Botched Attempt Against LDP’s Oppositional Leader

Apparently some things never change.

Whatever the current climate of unrest seemed to be, he sense no threat of war.

Perhaps this world was too big to suffer as a whole.

Some people may get scratched off, but that’s all it is: A scratch.

Had the massacre never happened and his grandparents passed away of old age, he likely wouldn’t have been able to muster a misty eye. He barely knew them enough at the time to be fond of them.

Sasuke’s world is vast, but the lines between territory and loyalties are clear.

A single domino can topple an entire nation.

Was a single domino enough for this world to fall too?

_____

Night had fallen and the streets had emptied.

The alleys and roadsides took up bedraggled, bearded men resting on their cardboard beds.

But then Sasuke came upon a man in a nice suit, face down in the street. He wasn’t injured, Sasuke soon found. Just black-out drunk.

Sasuke shifted him upright and leaned him against a nearby wooden bench. Sasuke paused to observe his breathing.

It was going to take some getting used to, not being able to sense life in the way that was so innate to him.

A place like this would be absolute hell for Karin.

Sasuke had noticed the CCTVs for some time.

It was better he didn’t perform any strange acrobatics for the time being.

_____

Sasuke toyed with the idea of creating an assumed identity.

He didn’t know how long it would take him to be sure this world wasn’t cultivating a God Tree. He wouldn’t be able to stay anonymous for long.

He would need to adapt to this world’s level of technology, as well. Seeing the wires pulled away from the sides of buildings, suspended instead upon metal spires that looked tadpole tails, he knew there was a difference in the logic of their engineering. If it wasn’t simply ahead of theirs, it was surely done out of necessity and perhaps tradition.

Back home, the wires were visible, running alongside buildings, homes and roofs like arteries.

Shinobi, who often travelled above the ground, had no fear of snagging their ankles or neck. The design, therefore, was their tradition, their necessity.

One final thing he became aware of the sheer amount of individual businesses packed in a single mile radius. Cafes, clothing stores, electronics, furniture, groceries, these things seemed to have fused at the hip, forcing new businesses to build atop them like bricks.

Perhaps commerce was the blood of society in this world.

Perhaps this was what the so-called End of History was to look like.

When all wars are settled, there is nothing else to do but play with money.

_____

An unassuming stone staircase caught his attention, for it lead three flights down into a darkened, verdant park.

The walking path wove like a snake between the trees.

Black metal trash cans stood along the trail here and there. Green dispensers carried rolls of black bags. They sported a sign, showing a stick figure stooping over behind a dog.

Huh. He wondered what that Inuzuka boy would think of this.

Sasuke took a seat on a lone wooden bench. He craned his head back to rest.

But when he closed his eyes, he became unsettled.

Even if he relied on his ears, or that subconscious instinct that told him when he was being watched (an ability he decided that had to be vestigial from being an indirect descendant of Kaguya), his senses still sought out the flickering warmth of chakra.

Closing his eyes felt like he was sinking into a place he could never wake up from.

_____

Something scurried in the distance. Through the bushes. Too big to be a squirrel or stray mutt.

Sasuke lurched upright and there peeking out from behind a tree was a little girl.

She had straight, dark hair in a cropped princess cut style. Her skin was white, her eyes blue, and she couldn’t be older than four or five.

Unsure what to do, Sasuke waved at her.

And she waved back.

Sasuke reached into his vest pocket, digging out four pieces of hard candy in paper wrappers.

Sarada snuck them in when he wasn’t looking.

Black tea flavor. Sakura said they were her favorite.

Sasuke leaned forward, elbow propped on his knee and he held the candy out towards.

In the back of his mind, this gesture felt a little shady to him. If some strange man happened to offer his daughter her favorite candy, he would be inclined to reveal the hilt of his sword.

The little girl stepped out from behind the tree.

She took one little step. Hesitated. Then another little step. She repeated this pattern, when halfway her eyes brightened and she ran up to him.

She reached for the candy, her hand hovering short of grabbing one while her big eyes implored him for his approval.

“They’re for you, from my daughter. She told me sweets should be shared amongst friends.” A total fabrication, but how else was she going to trust him?

The little girl plucked a single candy from his palm and fished it out of its paper wrapper, then popped it in her mouth.

She then grabbed another one and held it out towards him.

Oh yeah. He did say sweets should be shared amongst friends.

Pocketing the other two pieces, he accepted the candy from her. He gazed at it reluctantly. He’s had these in his pocket for over a week. A gift from Sarada, perhaps even a bribe in her mind to get him to stay. For him, they were precious keepsakes.

Well, it wasn’t like he was never going to see her again.

Sasuke worked the candy from its wrapper with his thumb, popped it into his mouth and let the flavor meld onto his saliva. It was pleasant and smooth, not too sweet at all. An unassuming treat.

The little girl’s face began to scrunch and droop, as if she were working on a cough drop instead.

“Don’t like it?”

She shrugged. Through a mouthful of darkened saliva, she said. “Not sweet enough.”

“Hn. What’s your name?” Sasuke began to cautiously eye the toddler. Her lavender pants were soaked with muddied water from the knees down. Her white shoes were caked in mud as well. Her elbows were scuffed, giving him the impression that she must have fallen. Her skin and her hair were otherwise clean, showing that she was not like those downtrodden men from earlier.

It must be that she was only gone recently enough that her family wasn’t looking for her yet. But that would change soon if he didn’t act.

She looked at him funny for asking. “Hinata.”

In this world full of coincidences, time seemed to slow to a halt.

And in the brief seconds when her eyes would close, a round, timid face from his childhood replaced hers with perfect sameness.

“How old are you?”

She thrusted four fingers towards him.

He hoped this wasn’t somehow her.

“Is your birthday soon?”

She shook her head. “Too hot. Us'lly snow comes out to celebrate with me.”

No. This was just a coincidence. She couldn’t possibly be who he thought she was.

She scooted towards him, hands clutching the edges of his cape. He stiffened, hoping she wouldn’t see the scabbard angled against his back.

“Aniki, you taking me back to daddy now?”

Sasuke clasped his hand over hers and nodded.

_____

Sasuke stood in the hallway, holding Sarada against him as Sakura slipped her shoes on in the genkan.

“I’m not going to be gone long, but you sure you’re going to be okay with her?”

“She’s sleeping.” What was there to worry about?

Sakura brushed her bangs aside, looking torn between leaving him or staying.

They were short on groceries. Sakura’s director duties at the children’s clinic had cut into the little free time she had, and his appearance today had been spontaneous to say the least.

“Okay.” She finally said. “I’m leaving now.”

“Take care.”

This was all he could do really.

Sakura knew what they needed, what they usually stocked up on when he wasn’t around. She most likely felt compelled to pick up extra things now that he was here. And with his self-imposed penance, he wasn’t going to be much help carrying all of that back from the marketplace had he gone instead.

This was all that he could do.

_____

Hinata’s resting against him just like Sarada was that day. She seems to have taken to him quite easily.

It’s calming, going for a walk like this. He thinks of doing with this Sarada some day, before she got too big of course, with Sakura’s hand curled around his bicep.

Their village was beautiful, and there’s so much to try and explore. He keeps hearing about it. It’s Naruto’s pride and joy to share how it was evolving, expanding. Rokudaime must be proud, too. He tries to say he’s just a holdover Hokage until Naruto is ready, but no one was going to let Kakashi talk himself down like that.

Every day something new sprouted up to the point that an official newsletter had begun to circulate through the village. Naruto told him the first time he, Hinata and Boruto had waited in the longest line ever for the new bakery that had debuted right across Dango-ya.

Sasuke understood right away: Competition is good for growth.

The city lights greeted them as he drew closer to the shops he had ventured passed during his first hours. Their windows were darkened however, and he believed it was well past business hours.

But in a place this developed, he was banking on one thing: Finding a convenience store.

Konoha was beginning to have shops like these.

Naruto wrote him once, (back at a time when neither of them were quite accustomed to their phones just yet), and he had gone on and on about the selection of instant ramen he had discovered on their shelves.

He sounded just like his twelve-year-old self. As excitable and single-minded as ever.

Hinata started to squirm against his shoulder. She was getting antsy.

“You hungry?” He asked.

“Mmhm.”

She hadn’t been able to tell him much about her home or where it was, but taking her sullied state into account, he felt he could narrow it down. This place was like a paved island. His search would have to begin outside of its limits.

“How come you weren’t scared of me?”

She shrugs. “I have a lotta big brothers. You look like them.”

Interesting. Sasuke tried to picture Hiashi with a whole brood of boys. In that picture, Neji stormed in, fending off anyone who would dare replace him as her most beloved brother.

Sasuke had heard from Naruto how the reformed branch member had become so fiercely protective of his younger cousin. To think the key to Neji’s freedom from hate had been one withheld letter penned to him by his father. Why it had been revealed so late, Sasuke failed to understand. But for all the pain Sasuke had caused, he kind of envied Neji for being able to make it back home so easily.

“So what do you mean I look like them?”

Bright white lights beamed out of a squat building, their white and blue sign shining just as brightly.

“They wear dark clothes, their hair is dark, the faces they make are dark.”

“They scowl at you?”

They crossed the parking out and entered inside. A synthetic bell tone welcomed them.

“Not at me. I seen them look mean at someone else’s brothers.”

“Hn.”

They began to peruse the shelves. Sasuke considered finding something that Sarada would enjoy.

Royal Milk Tea Biscuits? Matcha Chews?

Hinata pointed at a row of packaged cinnamon rolls, and Sasuke frowned.

He picked it up in a hurry and the moment the cashier stepped outside the back door, Sasuke slipped out the front.

Just a pile of coincidences, he reminded himself.

_____

There was a booth up ahead, lonely and a little out of place.

A man in uniform idled inside on a chair, his legs pointed out towards the street. His clothes were shades of blue, dark pants and dark vest, pale dress shirt and a dark, brimmed hat with a golden emblem on the center.

Hinata stirred and pointed towards the man. “He knows my daddy!”

Sasuke slowed, wary of catching the man’s suspicion. “Does he?”

Hinata nodded vigorously. “They’re in my house all the time.”

What the hell does that mean?

The closer Sasuke neared, the more his gut told him what kind of person this was: Law Enforcement.

“Aniki, he can help us.”

“Yeah, I know…”

It would be the quickest, most sane thing to do. But it wasn’t in the cards right now.

They’d want ID, a home address…

“Sorry Hinata-chan, but we can’t trust him.”

She peered up at him for a beat before settling back down. “Okay. My daddy says that, too.”

Sasuke kept his head down, forcing himself to make it past detection.

Naruto had come to him one day on behalf of Rokudaime. They wanted to reinvigorate the police force, build it up to its former glory. Sandaime had long relied on ANBU to keep the order, and Godaime after him, but that was no longer viable.

Because the police force was no longer being placed upon a single clan, they were working on the interviewing process, as well as reviewing the previous standard of regulations. A copy of the citizen registry, alongside an old compilation of past arrest records found in his father’s preserved study had given him significant insight for updating those regulations.

The last thing Sasuke needed was to get detained. Kamui wasn’t even an option, not unless the situation were truly dire.

“Where’s your daughter?” Hinata asked out of the blue.

“She’s at home.”

“And what are you doing here?”

“I’m working.”

“Oh.”

_____

In his attempts to have more presence in Sarada’s life, this too has been occurring just as frequently.

The first time he heads for the genkan, his sandals are missing.

He finds them in the storage room.

The next time they’re missing, Sakura screeches.

They’re in the toilet.

The next time they’re in the trash, soaked in melon juice and forcibly hidden beneath discarded egg shells, bok choy stalks, and styrofoam meat trays.

Sakura gets mad.

He doesn’t.

Sarada stops hiding his shoes.

So when he slips them on, a tiny crawling sensation lances up his spine. He stares down at the mess. He’s just pushed pudding everywhere, and it’s oozing between his bare toes.

When Sakura holds up Sarada towards him with an expectant glare, he pokes his wife’s forehead then Sarada’s, and takes his leave.

He didn’t know that was the wrong thing to do until the most recent incident.

His shoes are missing again.

They find Sarada in the backyard. She’s shoving large rocks down the high-tops of his right sandal. She’s thought this through. They’re too large to slide out of the cutouts on their own.

“SARADA!” Sakura scolds, marching towards their daughter.

Sarada whirls around on them in a panic. She grabs the left sandal, which has not been stuffed with rocks, and chucks it across the backyard with a bitter shout.

Sasuke grasps his wife’s wrist before she reaches their daughter, and it was the wrong thing to do.

“Are you going to do something this time?!” She wrenches her wrist free. His lack of response, his obvious lack of awareness earns his wife’s full ire. “Stop trying to be her friend. You are her father.”

“She’s little.”

“She’s being a brat. And you know why this keeps happening?!” Sakura grips his hand and hard. “Every time you’re here, you undermine me. She thinks its okay because you act the same no matter what she does. Is that fair? Is it fair that I have to be the bad guy all the time?”

His chest constricts. Any rebuttals he had were void as soon as he felt them on his tongue.

It startled him, the feeling that layers of happy illusions were peeling down all around him.

Sakura’s changed. Motherhood’s changed her. Of course it would. Of course she would know these things that he doesn’t know anything about. Of course.

But they became a mother and father at the same time. He thought… He thought that was it. Like he’d just been moved into a new squad with a higher promotion.

“I’m sorry-”

“Sasuke, I know. You’re always sorry. I know.”

Yeah. He was sorry his wife was still married to a teenager. He was sorry that he’s been disrupting the space she’s created for their daughter to grow in. Sorry he has nothing to contribute.

“Sasuke.” She urged. But she wasn’t giving up on him. She was trying to put him on the right path.

But he was still scared.

He didn’t want to be the bad guy, either.

“What should I do?”

Her grip softened. “Just be firm with her. She knows better than to disrespect someone else’ property.”

“Does she?”

“Yes. She plays with Choji’s girl. I’ve talked with you about this.”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t remember this at all.

'Firm’ she says. Right, his mother had been firm with him before. His father, instead, withheld praised Sasuke knew he deserved. They loved him, he knows. He isn’t mad. But when he recalls how he felt back then, he had doubts towards them. He felt like he wasn’t good enough for his father, that he was a needy nuisance towards his brother, that mom didn’t need to rely on him nearly as much as she did on Itachi’s successes.

In a single instance, he could cause his daughter as much pain as those moments had for him.

And he would carry that knowledge with him forever.

Sasuke stepped off the engawa and approached his little girl. He crouched down before her, holding her gaze like he was staring down ten thousand poison-tipped senbon.

“Sarada-chan, no matter what you do, you can’t stop me from leaving.” Straight facts. A three-foot tall four year couldn’t stop a shinobi of his caliber.

But that wasn’t what Sarada wanted to hear.

And that’s not how she heard it at all.

Her eyes widened, trembling. They were glassy with tears.

He moved forward to course correct, to hug her, to love her, but she stomped off for the discarded sandal.

Picking it up, she gives a running start and throws it even farther away, right into Sakura’s rose bushes.

Sarada ran off.

“SARADA! Sasuke, hold on, I’ll get her! Sarada!” Sakura sprinted off their property. It didn’t take long for her to scoop up their screaming toddler.

He watched his wife in a daze as she scolded Sarada so expertly, and in that moment he thinks that his and Naruto’s childhood roles have truly reversed.

No longer was Sasuke a natural at whatever he set out to do.

He was the useless one.

_____

“Are we going to walk there?”

Sasuke’s brows furrowed. “Is it too far?” Walking is the only way I get around. He wasn’t sure how Kamui would work on a powerless human, either.

“Yuh-huh. I was home with mommy. Then I was on a plane with mommy. Now I’m here… without mommy.”

Sasuke was about to ask what was a plane, until the last part.

“I thought we were looking for your dad.”

“Yes. Look only for dad.”

“But what about your mom? You were with her last, you shouldn’t run away.” He recalled the last time he saw Sarada bolting out the backyard. He wondered if he was causing not just resentment towards him, but towards Sakura as well. She didn’t deserve what was happening to her. He really hoped Sarada would understand some day.

A little fist came down on his shoulder and she began to kick. “She did it first! I want my daddy!” She flopped face-first against his shoulder, her frustration palpable.

“Okay, okay.” Sasuke awkwardly bounced her in his arm, something he happened to recall Sakura doing back when Sarada was much smaller.

“You don’t know where we are.” Hinata said.

“No.”

“I don’t know where we are.” She said.

“It’s okay. We’ll figure this out.”

“Nobody knows where we are.”

Sasuke bit down his tongue.

If he wasn’t careful, that part may not be true for very long.

#naruto fanfiction #sasuke uchiha #sarada #sakura haruno #sasusaku #hinata hyuga #Hinata Hyuuga #boruto era #modern au #worldhopping #multiverse #twoshot

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freedom-shamrock · 5 years

Text

Hero Cafe

Also on AO3

The idea for this was sparked by a recent comment Dawn_on_Fire made on AO3 on the BAMF Marinette story "Snack Chat."

⁂

Marinette looked over everything in the mini refrigerator while Tikki ran down the checklist.

"It looks like you've got everything set, Marinette," her kwami said brightly. "This is such a sweet idea. I'm proud of you for moving past your worries to make this happen."

She closed the door and stood up, gazing proudly at her balcony's new setup. Superhero work was exhausting and took a lot of reserves. A few months back, she'd started bringing a bag of end-of-day breads and pastries whenever she was on patrol or training with any of her teammates. While they'd all appreciated it, Chat Noir had actually gotten tearful in his gratitude. Her partner was far too thin. Sure, his black suit emphasized that, but she'd picked him up enough times to know that it wasn't an illusion. She'd heard enough to know that his home life was garbage, and while she couldn't ask, it was clear he wasn't getting enough to eat.

It had taken far too long to come up with a solution that didn't involve her going out every night to feed her kitty. Lycee had gotten intense and she was stretched too thin as it was; she couldn't afford to give up more sleep if she wanted to keep all her commitments and ensure Paris' safety.

Pitching the plan of creating a superhero rest stop to her parents was easier than she'd expected, though perhaps pointing out Chat Noir's dangerously underweight physique, and likening it to her friend Adrien's, was all it took. Her parents were feeders and caretakers; they couldn't abide underfed children.

"It was so nice of your parents to get you the mini-fridge and microwave," Tikki said. "You're not the only member of the family with great ideas!"

"We Dupain-Chengs are creative." She tickled the little red being's tummy. "And I'm sure it helps to have the literal embodiment of creation hanging around us."

Tikki shook her head. "I'm drawn to creativity, and I might boost it because we're so close all the time. But I can't make what isn't there."

Resting her hands on her hips, Marinette surveyed the finished project. It far exceeded her plans of a cooler and box of snacks, with boxes to sit on. She'd found a tiny table and two low profile chairs at a cafe that was changing out all of its patio furniture. She'd expanded her brightly colored awning to cover the entire patio, not just the corner where the food was kept. She'd added curtains on all sides that could be dropped for privacy or protection from the weather, though she expected they'd stay rolled up most of the time. For the nights when more than two heroes were out and about, she'd added a storage bench full of blankets. Her fairy lights had been swapped out for a larger set.

Tikki swooped over to the pseudo-kitchenette and hung up the laminated page explaining all the features of the space. Then she darted over to circle the empty rings in the new ceiling. "Let's put up your sign. Then you'll be officially open for business."

"Business," Marinette snorted, but picked up the little sign she'd crafted. "This is a philanthropic activity. I don't get paid for it."

"True," Tikki agreed. "But you do get peace of mind."

Sighing happily, Marinette nodded. "Yeah. I do."

⁂

"Where are we going?" Chat Noir asked as Ladybug led him over the rooftops.

"It's a surprise." She couldn't look at him right now; she was afraid her giddiness would give her away. She couldn't wait to see his reaction. They were nearly there. "You'll want to vary your approach trajectory in the future to prevent suspicion."

"So it's someplace we'll be going routinely, then?" he asked, and she could imagine him tapping his clawed index finger against his chin as he followed. "New roof for meeting or training?" he guessed.

"Nope. This is way cooler." She paused on a roof where she could see both her old college and the faint twinkling of her patio lights. She had her glee under control now, and could glance over at him. "I know we've saved and met a lot of civilians, but do you happen to remember Marinette?"

His smile practically lit up the night. "Marinette Dupain-Cheng? The amazing up-and-coming fashion designer and daughter of the folks who run my favorite patisserie? That Marinette?"

She nodded. She'd managed to stay out of akuma attacks as a civilian for the last two years, so she was frankly surprised he remembered her so clearly.

"She's amazing," he gushed. "She's so kind and brave, and she's as creative as you are. You should probably consider her as an option for a third string miraculous wielder. I bet she'd be fantastic."

She turned away so he wouldn't see the hot blush in her cheeks. Why did her partner's effusive praise please her so much? This was ridiculous! "Sounds like some kitty has a crush," she teased.

"Won't deny that for a moment," he said, completely unperturbed. "I think it's impossible to meet Marinette and not develop a crush."

"Really?" she asked, her voice squeaking in surprise at the confirmation.

"It's like a whole new law of physics," he said, rubbing his chin with one knuckle. "If you are capable of romantic or physical attraction, you will be attracted to Marinette."

"What?" Where had this come from? "Hyperbolic much?"

"Not at all," he insisted, utterly serious. "Every one of my friends who have ever come in contact with Marinette has gotten a crush on her."

He sounded so sincere, but his words didn't match up with her reality at all.

"So much concentrated energy and compassion," he continued with a sigh. "Definitely doesn't hurt that it comes in such an adorable package. She's deceptively strong, but so nurturing. I know she'd treat a sweetheart right."

She let out an undignified squawk and tripped off the edge of the building.

Chat was snickering when he caught up with her at the next rooftop over. "So shall I add you in the crushing on Marinette club?"

"Oooh, no." She shook her head. Dating herself? That'd be a trick.

He smirked. "Aaah yes. Denial. I remember that stage. You should just move on to acceptance. Then we can talk about how awesome she is when we're playing hot-or-not. Spoiler, she's hot."

"Are you dating her?" she asked, hoping to derail that trainwreck. "Because if you're not, it sounds like you want to."

"I wish." His amusement turned to wistfulness. "I don't dare get that close to her as my super self or my bland civilian self." He shook his head. "It wouldn't be safe for her."

"Wow," she whispered. "That's both really sad and amazingly wise all at the same time."

Chat Noir shrugged. "I've grown up a bit the last few years."

"I'd noticed," she pointed out with a grin.

"No, I mean mentally… emotionally." Another shrug. "I was kind of stunted when we met. But I've learned."

She patted his shoulder. "Well, we're heading to Marinette's," she said. "She's got snacks for us."

His eyes were wide, and a blush kissed his cheeks.

She swung herself over, landing just before him, so she could see his face as he looked around the renovated space.

"Marinette's Hero Cafe?" Chat Noir read the sign she'd hung up with Tikki as the final touch. His mouth was open a little in awe. He crossed into the kitchenette where a little chalkboard on top of the microwave declared stew the special of the evening. She'd worked with multi-colored chalks to draw designs like she'd seen in various cafes around the city. He reached out and ran a finger over the stack of dishes and peeked into the refrigerator, stocked with energy drinks, a pitcher of water, fruit, cheese, and the pot of leftovers.

After he'd read the laminated sheet and marveled over every last detail, he turned to her. "Did you already see this?" he asked.

Ladybug nodded. "She flagged me down and shared the idea with me when she was just starting work on it. It's… grown a lot from what she first envisioned." She shrugged. "It's probably a little over the top. What do you think?"

He beamed at her. "I love it." He glanced down at the skylight, but her room below was dark. "If she were home… or awake, I'd have to thank her profusely. Grandly. In true Chat Noir style." He struck a pose, then dabbed.

"You're ridiculous," she said, snorting with laughter. "And while thanking her is fine, you really don't need to go over the top."

"But…" He waved around them at the remodeled space. "She made this for us. I know she used to use this space for brainstorming and designing."

"She still can," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but… I don't think she'll feel as free to do so now. Maybe during the day, but not at night." He rubbed at his chin. "I know what she's like. She's set this space aside for us, and I bet she doesn't even really think of it as hers anymore."

She stared at him, blinking in stunned silence. How did Chat Noir know Marinette so well?

"She'll want us to feel comfortable here without risks, so she'll probably take care of the space, and bring up the leftovers from dinner." He pointed at the refrigerator. "But she'll want to leave it for us."

"I hadn't thought of that." It wasn't true. She had thought of it, and felt the pros outweighed the cons. "Maybe she feels it's worth it? It's her way of thanking us for taking care of Paris."

Chat Noir lifted the glass cover off a platter of pastries to pluck out his current favorite, a croissant with just enough dark chocolate to make it feel decadent. "I may not be able to thank her tonight, but mark my words, I will rectify that in the future."

"There's no need to get all over the top and ridiculous about it," she cautioned.

"Pfft. I am Chat Noir," he announced. "Ridiculous is what I do."

She shook her head. "That's what I'm afraid of."

"And Marinette deserves an extra helping of my gratitude."

"Chaaaat," her tone was a warning.

"Think she'd accept payment in exotic fabrics?" he asked.

Ladybug stared at him, stunned for approximately the fifth time in the last hour. He knew her, Marinette her, well enough to know exactly what would appeal. She found her voice after a moment of heavy silence. "I think Plagg needs to add a tag to your collar."

His luminescent eyes blinked slowly in confusion.

"You are clearly Marinette's cat."

⁂

It’s not a one-shot anymore, and you can now check out Chapter Two if you’d like.

If you’re so inclined, feel free to support me over on Ko-Fi

#Miraculous Ladybug #Fanfic #My Writing #Marichat #Fluff #Marinette #Tikki #Ladybug #Chat Noir #Hero Cafe

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wavebanana60 · 4 years

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Exactly How Do Retractable Awnings Manage Rain, Sunlight, Snow, As Well As Storms?

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Timber Blinds

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fragilevixenfic · 5 years

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Caught in the Rain

For the secret Santa exchange I wrote a lovely little one shot for wilhelmscreamf/Bob79519

Tagging the always lovely @monikafilefan @karinanic @country3living @reasonandfaithinharmony @agntstarbuck223 @invisigoth-1013 @msraddicted

Summary: A dark, rainy night leads Mulder and Scully to a hole in the wall bar where glasses of Scotch and unresolved tension is re-visited.

Is it real? We're always the same We're almost undone now I was caught in the rain, wastin' my time on the ground. Waiting the call of what would you say and can you come over? I was caught in the rain, wastin' my time on the ground.

It was you

Who could get me high with whatever you say

You’re telling me something real

What we do doesn’t matter now

Whatever it takes for you to stay with me

-Revis

11:00 PM, Sunday Night, June 28th 1998

Nearby the exterior of The Tune Inn

331 (and a half) Pennsylvania Ave SE, Washington DC

Am I cursed?

Scully’s brain was addled, confused as she carefully avoided the dips in the cement, her heels slapping against the heavily saturated grade underneath of her feet, disrupting the direction of the splashes with every step she took. It wasn’t enough that she had to glance down as she blindly pushed the wet strands of hair out of her face and did her best to hold her heavily saturated jacket shut as a gust of wind harshly left its mark across her skin, leaving behind streaks of not-so-waterproof mascara and watermarks in the finish of her lipstick. She caught her reflection in a window of a closed clothing shop and didn’t recognize the woman looking back—disheveled, a wreck, bordering on an emotionally unstable mess that was hanging by a thread. She had been walking for a while and the ache along her calf muscles provided the healthy reminder that her choice of footwear had been lazy, at best. The length of this contemplative walk wasn’t planned for and her attire was the icing on the cake of “why did I just do this?” as she held onto the edge of a newspaper stand while stretching out her legs.

Lack of a plan had carried her off the beaten path, down a set of streets that she hadn’t explored before, and the fluttering in her belly of the jumbled thoughts simply added to the algorithm of what had been another fucked up month that she’d rather forget. At least she thought she did.

It was quiet, almost desolate, along the typically busy and bustling section of Pennsylvania Avenue that Scully had wandered into just blocks away from the Capitol Building. She turned her head and looked at the quaint row of old buildings, some of which still had their neon “open” lights on and burning bright in the window, each beckoning her in a different way, each carrying a different message that had her contemplating whether to take a risk or turn the other direction. As she continued down the wet, rain soaked sidewalk, her full attention to her right hand side on the quiet little dive with the squeaky door, beyond the awning of the busy “Hawk ‘n’ Dove” bar that nearly overshadowed it. She wiped the streaks of black mascara from beneath her eyes as she approached, the relief hitting her before she even knew what to expect from inside.

It wasn’t the definition of ideal as she pulled the door open and felt the resistance against it, followed by the warmth behind but the reward finally came from smelling of hops, liquor, and bar fare as she stood and stared at the antler chandelier hanging from the ceiling at the end of the bar while dripping on the welcome mat.

“Oooh, shit, love, what in the hell made you go wandering out in this downpour from hell?” The voice wasn’t a welcomed melody or a sonnet against her ears as it came from behind the bar, but it was masculine, gritty, and a little amused beneath the almost baritone vocal tone.

Scully blinked rapidly and made eye contact with him, slowly wringing her hair out as she approached the bar near the corner, her back to the window, sliding onto a stool. “Entirely too much thinking for my own good and it led to more walking than should be legally allowed by any human in these shoes.”

“Rough night?” He was awfully cute but not at all her type behind those grayish-blue eyes and overly coiffed hair with the perfectly maintained facial hair to match as he reached for a couple of napkins, offering them to her, a single eyebrow raised. “Boyfriend troubles? Husband? Girlfriend? Both?”

Scully rolled her eyes and roughly wiped away the mess of makeup and raindrops along her cheeks, smiling far bigger than she intended on as she glanced at his nametag, returning the same elevated eyebrow as she crossed her legs. “None of the above…Todd.”

“Well, alright, then you definitely need a drink, wouldn’t you say, love? So, what’ll it be?” Todd had a bright smile as he tossed his towel over his shoulder and gripped the edge of the bar, momentarily glancing back at the expanse of the space to keep an eye on the remainder of people in the space. “Or were you planning on just sitting there looking overdressed, soaked to the bone, and tense without a drink in front of you?”

“Well, what do you typically recommend to someone who can’t seem to shut off their brain for more than three seconds, who is stuck in a perpetual loop thinking about how close they came to destroying a perfectly good friendship with someone?” Scully already had her mind on what nearly happened in the hallway outside of Mulder’s apartment as the heat flushed her cheeks in three seconds flat.

“Drink enough of just about anything and you’ll stop thinking about a lot of things but it sounds like, for your masochistic situation…Scotch on the rocks,” Todd was definitely brazen and a little out there as he emphasized the word ‘masochistic’ while pulling a bottle of Glenlivet off of the top shelf, momentarily turning his back on Scully.

Scully audibly scoffed at him, almost horrified at the idea but intrigued at it at the same time, as Todd poured her the drink over ice, the tone of her voice taking a pitchy journey as she found herself pouring it out, figuratively. “I know what that means and I don’t think it falls into the wildly accepted definition…I have been consumed by thoughts that I can’t escape, I’m beating myself up over it, and I truly don’t know which way is up or down, none of which is pleasant, by the way, and I wouldn’t be so willing to tell a perfect stranger under ordinary circumstances but here I am, doing just that.”

“Uh huh…masochist,” Todd chuckled and pushed the rocks glass in front of her, the Amber liquid dancing in front of her as he propped up his chin with his palm, smirking at Scully as she avoided making eye contact with him. “So what’s your name, masochist?”

Scully had the glass between her fingers, the aroma of oak, vanilla, honey, nutmeg flooded her senses with a hint of fruit beneath, almost lulling her into a false sense of security over how much she could safely drink before losing control of her tongue, or worse. She took a solitary sip and let the heavier citrus and apple caress with the burn of the alcohol that followed as she swallowed. The choice, while presumptive, was likely the right one despite the fact that her brain immediately went right back to that fucking hallway—knowing how close she came to swiping a blur in the perfectly constructed line between herself and Mulder. She had known for so long how much she had wanted to run, either straight to the comfort of his arms or for the elevator, neither of which provided much vision of sanity for a conclusion after the fact, in any case.

This was one way to keep from experiencing failure and the bitterest sting of rejection, she supposed.

“It’s Dana, Dana Scully,” Scully knew her cheeks must’ve been lit up like a Christmas tree as the glass made a tap against the bar top, her eyes focused on the rippling around the cubes of ice as they rolled around in the Amber liquid. “It dawned on me that I haven’t drank anything beyond a glass of wine in a long time. I don’t know what will come tumbling out of my mouth so I apologize in advance for anything unnecessary.”

“Well, Dana, I’m cheaper than a therapist, I don’t judge anything that might slip out and I hear so here much that it’s difficult to retain it,” Todd put the bottle of Glenlivet back, his laughter evident as he turned around and braced against the drawer.

Somehow, she knew that the idea was close to the truth but it had her heart beating up into her throat at the mere idea of anyone stumbling onto a Freudian slip while mildly intoxicated. Carefully guarding her thoughts about Mulder had kept her safe for so long and that safety net no longer felt so securely beneath her, nor did it seem as though it would hold her if she were to fall. It was that “you’ve gotten yourself into this situation, now deal with it” realization as Scully held her breath, forcing a smile at the curious bartender across from her. Scully was precariously dangling on the edge of something palpable, raw, and the ignition switch was between her fingers and tasted awfully good.

Scully straightened her back and slid the sleeves of her outer jacket down, removing the saturated material before tossing it across the stool beside her. “Oh, I’m sure you hear some interesting details about people’s private lives that you’d love to erase permanently from your memory banks.”

“Boy, would I?” Todd nodded, sipping a diet soda from a plastic cup just below the lip of the bar top, making a slightly sour face as he renewed eye contact with Scully. “There are things that happen here that make a man shudder—but it’s all in good fun, for the most part.”

“My woes are boring, run of the mill, and highly average, likely bordering on plaintive,” Scully took another sip, the burn a little more intense than the first as she felt it coursing through her chest before she let the glass come back down to the lacquer bar top. “I am transfixed on realizing that I am stuck, each day of my life, looking at the one thing that I didn’t know how badly I wanted and I have no idea if it’s mutually felt or if I lost that chance already by being austere.”

“Your definition of boring and mine are vastly different, Dana,” Todd looked at the half empty glass in front of Scully and instinctively reached for the bottle, topping it off without being asked. “Sounds like you need to tell the guy you’re obviously talking about how you feel or forget about it? Either way, let it out or let it go?”

Scully bit down on her bottom lip, sucking it into her mouth as she thought about how close they had been and how quickly it slipped away. “Forgetting the effect a person with that kind of passion, fire, and intensity has on you is a little easier said than actually done…I’ve come to notice.”

“Now I’m intrigued and you have to spill the details about this guy,” Todd didn’t put the bottle away, he simply set it to the side and leaned against his elbow, a grin on his lips as he continued, almost too enthusiastically. “Is he tall? Dark? Mysterious? Is he delicious? Don’t spare any tidbits, Dana, lay it on me.”

The belly laugh that left Scully’s lips was louder than expected as she nearly spilled her drink on the front of her blouse after another healthy swallow of it, delicately balancing it in her hand. “Oh my God, you’re absolutely terrible! Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Guilty as charged but I’m not giving up, so out with it,” Todd’s effervescent energy radiated off of him and Scully felt comfortable with him in spite of herself as she poked an ice cube with the tip of her index finger.

“I can’t believe I’m even telling you this ,” Scully leaned forward and put her elbows on the edge of the bar, covering her face for a moment as she gathered the thoughts, revealing an even more flushed face as caution abandoned. “Have you ever felt like you were mere milliseconds from leaping off a ledge, throwing the last remnants of a strictly professional relationship into the wind, exposing every bit of your vulnerability to that person, but something happened and it all came crashing down into pieces like broken glass?”

“I can’t say that I’ve experienced something quite that intense,” Todd was watching her grappling with emotions as she took another nip of the drink.

Scully inhaled a deep breath and let it out like she was relieved to let it go, let anyone hear it. “I was so ready to walk away and he pulled me back in like he really wanted me there, then it was over before I even could fully blink. Everything went back to the way it was and we’ve been acting like nothing happened but…I’m still standing in that fucking hallway with a breath on my lips that no one finished, and I don’t even know if he actually wanted me to be there or just needed me to stay, to make everything like it was.”

Todd’s stance changed as he lifted his head and turned toward neon in the front window, the expression on his face changing from concern to a light smile as the cold breeze caught Scully across the back with the closing of the front door. “Well, hi there, you look like you’ve just walked through a rinse cycle—come in, get dry, we don’t bite.”

The walls of the hole in the wall bar kept the deluge of precipitation outside at bay until the door opened and closed, ushering in another body that had the gooseflesh forming across Scully’s back in an instant. The silence was deafening as the water logged footsteps squished along the flooring before she finally looked up from the finger induced swirling vortex in the middle of her glass. Her core shook as she lifted her head and saw the unmistakable hazel eyes burning from five feet away, his clothes dripping, hair flat against his skin from the onslaught of the cloudburst that he had clearly been out in for quite a while. Scully swallowed hard against the urge to vomit as she felt the stare on her like a tractor beam despite the distance he was imposing on her as he purposely took a seat kitty corner from her at the bar, his lips pressed together almost pensively. He had put distance between them, but kept enough closeness that each curve, each little flinch of his skin was noticeable and evident to Scully. The look made her ache in about thirty different ways and all of which conflicted with each other as she reached for the glass, desperate to break the eye contact.

“I didn’t know if anyone would be open at this time of night,” Mulder’s voice nearly leveled Scully as he settled onto the bar stool, averting his eyes away from her to Todd’s general direction, forcing a flat, cordial smile.

She recognized that phony grin from a mile away and knew she was in for it as the undertones of his voice reeked of exasperation and thin patience.

“Gotta keep an eye out for the lost individual even on a Sunday to get a drink or three,” Todd glanced at Scully, immediately taking note over the increased tension she was oozing before fully making eye contact with Mulder. “On that topic…what can I get for you while you dry off?”

“Scotch on the rocks?” Mulder was eyeing the bottle of tequila but there was anger half playing with his emotional stability as he could see Scully’s hands shaking in his peripheral. “Isn’t the early summer rain supposed to at least be warm or did DC skip out on that memo?”

“I’ve noticed that some of these storms are chillier late at night with a heavy wind to go along with it…seems like that’s what we’ve got on our hands tonight,” Todd slid the glass of Glenlivet in front of Mulder, gave him a subtle nod and turned toward Scully with the bottle in his hand, instinctively topping off the glass despite the fact she barely needed it. “You’ve got more than enough in that glass to continue that story so do go on…Tell me more about the guy, does he know anything?”

Scully was like the deer in the headlights as the subject of her discussion was sitting just a few feet away from her, looking like he was seconds from downing his drink, flipping her off, and walking out as his jaw began to flinch. “Keep pouring Scotch in my glass and the only information coming out of my mouth will be different pitches of laughter—I told you that I don’t drink.”

Todd wasn’t fully paying attention to Scully’s discomfort as he looked to the left and squinted for a long moment, a look of shock following immediately thereafter. “Son of a…Dana, hold that thought, I need to go tell Mister Davis that my booths are not for whatever he’s doing with his date. Gross.”

Scully sighed softly in relief as Todd ran to the other end of the building, the instant berating of his customer in the darkest corner of the bar, tucked away in a booth that was barely visible from the front. Mulder cleared his throat as he took a tentative drink of the Scotch, not hiding that he was stealing a glance at her as she turned the barstool until her back was aimed at the wall, her left elbow against the bar lip. The song on the jukebox was distinctly by Radiohead, the lyric “What the hell am I doing here?” hitting Mulder directly in the gut. It was just loud enough that it did a lovely job of drowning out the bitching session from Todd in the back as the awkward silence continued in front of the bay window. She was afraid but not for the same reasons that Mulder was inferring from her body language as he finally allowed his eyes to lift away from the cup between his thumbs.

“How long are you going to pretend like I’m not here?” Mulder’s tone was less than pleased as he blinked slowly, soaking in every little move she made as she brought the glass down from her mouth.

Scully raised an eyebrow at him and felt the bravery burning beneath the remnants of the alcohol in her throat, both hands folded in her lap after setting the glass down. “That depends on how long you plan on sitting over there while I’m over here…”

“I figured you needed the extra distance since my mere presence put a damper on one hell of a flirtation session that you were having with the bartender, Scully,” Mulder’s jealousy was radiating off of him like sweat as he took another healthy drink of the Scotch and fidgeted on his barstool.

Scully bit down on the tip of her tongue and felt her heart thudding against her breast bone, anxious to get out as she white knuckled the edge of the bar. “How long were you standing there listening, Mulder?”

Mulder was half hiding behind the glass of Scotch, his eyes glued to the top of the lacquer bar top, knowing that the frustration was mounting. “Just long enough to know that our strictly professional relationship is in pieces and you’re still stuck, standing in my fucking hallway? Is that what you want me to say, Scully? That I heard you opening up to a complete stranger about how you really feel about me?”

His intensity was equally frightening and thrilling as Scully nearly dropped the rocks glass, accidentally splattering some of the contents on her fingers as she gathered it haphazardly in an attempt to keep it upright. “Mulder…that’s not what I…look, would you just come sit by me and make this a little less awkward for me, please?”

“I don’t think you want me sitting next to you right now, I am liable to say something loud and make everything far worse than it already is,” Mulder was white knuckling the edge of the bar, his eyes barely lifting until they met hers.

Scully stared down at her lap for a moment, feeling that pang of guilt and sadness meandering through her chest as she inhaled a sharp breath. “I’m not asking you to not be angry or change your mind; I just want you next to me.”

Mulder gripped the glass as he rose from the swiveling stool, his lips pressed together while he took careful steps in her direction, staring her down as though she were a deer at the end of his crosshairs. Scully wiped her fingers on a nearby place napkin and kept the burning gaze locked on him, the heat rising in her chest as she held her breath for longer than she should have while he made the curve of the bar and stood directly in front of her. It must’ve been humorous for anyone that might’ve been witnessing the hunter stalking the hunted but the only feeling that Scully felt ravaging her body was conflict—to run or jump him right there on the bar. The choice, while undeniably ridiculous, was his.

Mulder put his drink onto the bar just inches from Scully’s, gathered her jacket across his arm before she had a chance to reach for it, and re-established a comfortable seated position on the stool next to hers, swiveled in her direction. “Now that I’m here—are you going to explain to me what I walked in on or are you going to push your luck into thinking I’m going to forget about it entirely?”

Scully tossed the remainder of her glass of Scotch back with the presence of Mulder’s half tense, half frustrated energy sitting directly next to her and him casually holding her jacket wasn’t making it any better as she turned her entire body toward the end of the bar. “Todd, if you’ve got that little situation under control…I think I’m going to need a little assistance if you’re not terribly busy?”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, I don’t want to see this, Scully,” Mulder was not in the mood for Scully’s flirting directly in front of him as he started to stand up again, not bothering to hide the pure disgust as it poured out of him.

Scully grasped his wrist and bit down on her lip, locking him in that same gaze that had him so captivated in his hallway, before the world came crashing down, before fate’s cruel hand ripped the rug out from under them. He would never admit it to her but she made him go weak in the knees as he settled back down and glanced down at her fingers still gathered across his skin, her middle and index in the crease along his thumb. She was pulling a “you first” and the stalemate was resulting in Mulder’s dry throat and clammy hands as his eyes imagined his lips all over those rosy cheeks. Mulder cleared his throat as his ears went hot while he felt Scully’s warmth creeping in along with the vibration of her trembling that she could no longer hide. They had unleashed a little chaos between them as Mulder followed Scully’s lead and finished his drink just as Todd was walking back toward their end of the bar.

“Musical chairs? I love that game!” Todd had one of those coy smiles that Mulder would’ve liked to wipe right off of his face but the quivering digits still squeezing his hand had him quiet as the bartender’s mouth opened. “Sorry that took entirely too long to explain to one of my very loyal regulars why a public sex act in a bar is still a crime in spite of it only carrying a misdemeanor charge. Clearly, you two need another round?”

Scully cloistered a laugh as she nodded, pushing her glass forward with her left index, the effects of the previous drink already evident as she felt her head swimming just enough to lack a filter. “There’s friendly and then there’s, just take it home, no one needs to see that, right?”

“Oh, he’s harmless—but I don’t need to sanitize a booth because he doesn’t want to pay for the hotel room,” Todd poured their drinks and added a fresh cube or two of ice to both before sliding them onto clean napkins, glancing outside at the sidewalk for a moment. “Not looking good outside for the two of you…that rain hasn’t let up since you sat down.”

Both turned to look and sighed in unison, realizing that leaving wouldn’t be the easiest of options with the sidewalk looking more like a creek by the minute. Scully chuckled far louder than she had wanted to as she looked back toward Todd, sipping the Scotch to avoid the immediate questioning from both of them as it came out of nowhere. Mulder gave her a sideways glance and leaned against his hand, rotating his barstool a little to stare her down a little better. His facial expression softened as he found her already stealing a glance at him from the side of her rocks glass, the smirk almost immediate as he watched her clearly swallow wrong and nearly choke in the process.

“What’s got you all giggly, Dana?” Todd furrowed his eyebrows at her and smiled wide as he started to address more clean glassware on the edge of the bar.

Mulder raised an eyebrow at her, the sly grin on the edges of his lips as he lifted his glass to take a swallow of his own drink, emphasizing that he actually knows her in front of Todd. “Yeah, Scully, what has you so giggly?”

Scully knew that Todd was instantly confused and rightfully so as she felt Mulder’s knee pushing against hers, coaxing another reflexive giggle in spite of the resistance she was attempting to put up. “Irony…so much irony.”

“So I know why lil miss giggles is here but what made you get yourself soaked to the gills and come out here…I didn’t catch your name, by the way,” Todd rolled his eyes a little at them as he looked directly at Mulder’s half disheveled face, his semi-damp hair a little messy as he ran a couple fingers through.

“Oh, sorry, it’s Fox Mulder…but I go by Mulder, please don’t use the first name, only my mother uses it,” Mulder fondled the top of the glass, redirecting his ice around in the middle of his Scotch. “I found myself sitting on my couch thinking about everything that wasn’t right in front of me that I really wanted to be there and had to clear my head before I said or did something stupid.”

“Well, what exactly is your definition of stupid, Mulder?” Scully couldn’t help herself as she was watching the hemline of her skirt do a dance against the side of Mulder’s knee as he continued to intentionally rub it against her.

There was an air of strategy in the comment but the words played against Mulder’s psyche like a well-placed, knowing, hidden grope in the middle of a crowded room that left him breathless. Their third party had grown increasingly confused and intrigued by the seemingly instantaneous chemistry, clueless to the reality that they had been discussing one another in vague, yet captivating detail. Scully wasn’t a game player but she had him trapped via a Fool’s Mate maneuver and he knew it as his eyes followed the glass as she drew it up to her mouth, tasting the Amber liquid with her eyes closed this time. It was driving him insane that he didn’t know what she was after with any of this other than his reaction.

“That’s a trap question if I’ve ever heard one, Scully,” Mulder didn’t like being tested but he could tell she was doing it as she placed her half emptied glass on the bar top as he averted his line of sight toward Todd. “Doesn’t it sound like a trap to you, Todd?”

“Most questions asked by the fairer sex are traps, Mulder and judging by the look on her face, yes, it’s a trap,” Todd was regretting that imposed rule about not drinking on the job as his eyes bounced between the two of them. “Why do I get the feeling that I shouldn’t be leaving the two of you unsupervised again? Something going on here that I should know about because bartenders are suckers for the juicy bits…?”

Scully was feeling the discomfort of a two against one as she tilted her head and contemplated the liquid courage in her hand but thought against it as she felt the tipsiness swirling in her belly. “Oh no, you can’t go agreeing with each other. How is that fair?”

“Hey Todd, we need another round down here,” the larger booth near the back had become a little louder as the group of people had run dry on their alcohol.

“Damn…Be right there!” Todd snatched up the necessary tequila and beer chasers, along with a stack of shot glasses before meandering toward the end of the bar. “Behave yourselves till I get back, okay?”

Mulder waited until Todd was barely out of earshot to go back on the defensive as he eyed Scully’s drink, the irritation evident as her eyes averted toward her glass. “Maybe I need to just go since it’s more than a little apparent that you are tipsy and it’s less than strictly professional to be around each other while under the influence of alcohol.”

Scully felt her stomach drop as he was already halfway to his feet, rummaging through his pockets for cash to pay for his drink as she finally dug deep for the words, her voice shaking with every syllable. “Do you ever think about that night like I do or am I really alone in all of this, Mulder? Am I killing myself for nothing?”

“I walked in on you baring your soul to a perfect stranger in a bar looking more comfortable than I can fully describe and now you want me to open up to you when you couldn’t even grant me the same courtesy? Jesus Christ, Scully,” Mulder wanted to throttle her as he took a healthy drink of what was left of his Scotch, feeling the burn immediately after swallowing, still holding her jacket across his left arm as he stood above her.

“I deserve that,” Scully stood, kept her eyes glued on his, pulled the small wad of cash from his hand and pushed it into his front pocket, coaxing a less than expected audible gasp from him in the process, her voice soft and melodic as she looked up at him. “Now, could you please just sit down and let me try? I didn’t know how to tell you how I feel but now that you know, talk to me.”

“I think you’re just trying to win an argument with what you just did, Scully,” Mulder slowly let the air out of his mouth and felt the heat rising in his cheeks, through his ears, down his neck, as he looked at her. “It’s working.”

They both sat back down and Scully took a sip of her Scotch, a sly smile creeping across her lips from behind the rim of her glass. “If putting the tips of my fingers in your pocket is all it takes to win an argument with you, I’d be interested to see what would happen if had been the entire hand.”

“Flirting with Todd, flirting with me, is this is what happens when you get drunk, Scully?” Mulder knew her better than that but the words still slipped out as he turned his barstool toward her while she leaned against the back wall again.

Scully shook her head and slid forward, almost to the point that her backside was on the edge of the stool, her knees comfortably sliding between Mulder’s. “I don’t know if you’re entirely qualified to know when I’m flirting or not but I’m not flirting with the bartender.”

“Are you entirely sure about that?” Mulder swallowed hard as Scully re-crossed her legs, purposely bumping against both of his inner thighs with every move he made. “Don’t go pulling a Sharon Stone on me, Scully, I don’t know if I can handle it right now.”

There was something playful hidden in Scully’s voice as she bit down on her bottom lip and nearly finished off the Scotch in her glass. “I’m pretty sure Sharon Stone wasn’t wearing any panties in Basic Instinct, Mulder.”

“That’s kind of a risky assumption considering I don’t actually know of a time I’ve witnessed you drinking anything other than wine,” Mulder’s fingers were rickety against the rim of his glass, the Scotch nearly going topside as he utilized it to calm the sudden rise in anxiety.

“Not that you’re in any rush to find out if I’m lying or not, though, right, Mulder?” Scully’s voice dropped an octave as she egged him on, clearly daring him to make a move or shut his mouth, as she pushed an ice cube past her lips, the childishness on full display.

Mulder did a double take at the woman that he had spent the past five years stealing the most abrupt of touches and glances, completely taken by surprise over the pass she had just made at him. She had him backed into a corner but not defenseless as he could hear the ice cube rattling around inside of her mouth like a rather large dinner mint. Her right knee was unusually high after crossing both legs and positioning them between his, almost too closely as he could feel the heat radiating off of her through his inseam via her shin as he made any movement, in any direction. Scully hadn’t made any attempt to slide away from him as she used her side and elbow to comfortably brace against the bar, her smirk still lingering as Mulder pressed both of his lips together before swiveling her barstool until she had to hold on with both hands to keep from sliding directly off.

“I’m pretty certain that a maximum sentence for lewd or dissolute conduct in public is ninety days in jail and a tiny little three hundred dollar fine but guys like me don’t exactly do incredibly well in behind bars since most of the time the badge gets found out pretty fast,” Mulder’s hands slid carefully to the hem of Scully’s skirt, where his fingers wasted little time in sliding under the first two inches, pushing the material up until a run in her panty hose was visible above her knee. “Scully, you have a run in your hose.”

“There is? I hadn’t noticed…” Scully glanced at the finger length run in her nude nylons, her pristinely white skin peeking out through the shreds as she bit down on her lip and blushed as she held onto her bar stool, pulling it under her a little better. “Maybe you should check to see how far up it goes, for scientific purposes?”

“Are you two for real right now? I leave you alone for literally five minutes and you’re already getting fucking handsy on a pair of bar stools after I just got through having that little discussion about my regular customer getting all illegal in a booth?” Todd’s voice brought them both back to the reality that they were sitting in the bar, erasing the line between them without a second’s hesitation.

“Actually, you just put a massive damper on five solid years of percolating…way to go, Todd,” Mulder gave Scully’s thigh a fairly firm squeeze and made eye contact with her as he heard her inhale rather sharply. “On second thought.”

“Wait…five years? You’ve been talking about each other all night, haven’t you?” Todd rolled his eyes as Scully put her hand over the top of Mulder’s hand, preventing him from drifting further up her skirt. “I feel like I’ve just facilitated way too much sexual energy without even realizing it.”

“I don’t know about a damper, Mulder, more like a tiny, little pause?” Scully had a lot more on her mind than the alcohol still running through her veins as she winked at him and tapped the top of his hand. “It’s not that late…yet.”

“Here I am, thinking I have two broken individuals who needed to forget about their problems but were, in reality, airing their feelings in front of the other person, half anonymously,” Todd rubbed his eyes and glanced at the clock, exhaling loudly. “I feel like I need a fucking shot before shift ends out of the mind fucking you two just delivered. I hate exercising and my brain definitely hates aerobics.”

Mulder couldn’t help but be a little amused over the reaction from Todd as he furrowed his brow at him. “You wanted all of the juicy details and you got exactly that…just not how you imagined it, which is the problem, I’m sure. Didn’t he ask for that, Scully?”

“Yes, he absolutely did and said not to spare any tidbits to boot,” Scully was growing comfortable with the hand against her thigh but she would’ve been lying if asked if it were enough as she glanced at Mulder’s waiting, now palpable bottom lip that was staring at her. “He was an absolute hound for information…now he seems to be regretting such a request.”

“I think I’m going to violate my own rule and I’m going to have a shot, do you want a shot? I think we should have a shot and toast to this cluster fuck of a night in which we discover that this mother fucker right here slings drinks to two flirty little assholes who want to give him an aneurysm,” Todd started rambling, mainly teasing them as he poured three shots of tequila without hearing an actual acceptance of his offer. “These ones are on me since I brought it on myself. To aneurysm causing third person chitter chatter.”

Scully’s eyes widened as she picked up the small, gold rimmed shot glass, the smell hitting her nostrils from nearly a foot away, instantly making her entire face pucker. “To all of that whining and getting caught in the rain on a Sunday night to catch more than one person a little unaware.”

Mulder contemplated the shot glass perched between his fingers and gazed at the woman across from him, her eyes managing to captivate him even more than they already had been for the past five years. “To finishing so much unfinished business so we’re no longer aimlessly trapped in that hallway.”

Scully’s facial features softened as Mulder pushed his shot glass against hers, but neither made a move toward their mouths to take even a sip. “I haven’t even gotten there yet and I’m already on fire.”

Mulder knew the quote she was referencing as he set his shot down, pulled the still full shot glass from her fingertips and placed it next to his own on the lacquer bar top. Mulder’s words hadn’t fully been illuminated toward her in regard to everything that he felt for her but his actions spoke volumes as he guided her fingers within the palm of his hand while his free hand gave a tug to the edge of her barstool, eclipsing the space between them. Scully wouldn’t have dreamed of turning away, not even for a second, as the air between them disappeared and the moment that had eluded them before came without anything to stop them this time. Like a dance, their palms slid apart and into the sphere of the other as lightning did strike when their lips finally met, fitting together as though they’d practiced this, rehearsed it, imagined it into life. Neither one of them gave a damn about an audience as eyes fluttered shut and Mulder gathered Scully closer to him, reveling in the closeness that had evaded them for far too long. They had imagined this moment, in repetition, for days and nothing could’ve quite prepared them for it as Mulder’s hand tilted Scully’s head back to fully drink her in, in spite of the mutual taste of Scotch on their tongues. The intoxicant was no longer what they had been drinking as eyes closed and hands slid through hair, desperate to hold onto one another for as long as fate would allow.

“Ok…no second base shit or I’ll throw you both out,” Todd tossed back his shot with an almost surrendered tone with a hint of satisfaction underneath and coaxed resistive laughter from both of them as they forced the incredibly vocal, open mouthed kiss to come to a screeching halt.

Scully groaned, keeping both eyes closed as she held onto Mulder’s collar, her bottom lip brushing against his just lightly as she started to speak. “I don’t even think you understand just how high those flames are and you only tossed a half full bucket on them expecting to put a stop to something.”

“I don’t have nearly this much trouble with the twenty-one year old, amped up college students that come in here to cut loose,” Todd picked up their shots and nudged their shoulders. “Five years or no five years…you’re not horny teenagers.”

“Certainly not a teenager, anyway,” Scully had one of those knowing smiles on her face as she matched Mulder’s drink for drink shot on shot of the tequila, the sour expression momentarily returning as she swallowed. “Now I remember why I don’t drink.”

“Scully I better take you home before you go and get us both in more trouble than we’re already in,” Mulder was feeling his alcohol but it was clear that her Scotch consumption was a little more potent than his own as her fingers lingered against the front of his shirt, pulling him closer.

“Mmmm…therein lies a question, mine or yours?” Scully pulled her jacket on and pulled a couple of favorable bills from her pocket while Todd scooted off to the side to call them a cab.

“Do you really care which one, Scully?” Mulder had cash in his hand as he discarded it next to hers, before leaning in to get a soft, quick peck on the lips from Scully as they both stood up, his thumb lingering under her chin.

“Not even a little bit,” Scully held that stance, stretched up on her toes and tugged on the center of his bottom lip with her teeth while her hands slid around his waist.

Mulder groaned, closed his eyes briefly and slid his arm around Scully’s shoulders, enveloping her in an embrace before glancing toward Todd. “Is that cab on the way?”

Todd nodded, gave Mulder one of those little smirks and put the empty shot glasses into the bin with the rest of the empty glassware. “You’re welcome, you two…maybe you’ll show up here again on another rainy night?”

They didn’t need to answer the question as it was an unspoken understanding between two parties that were aware of the role that this little space had played in unraveling the broken, needing to be repaired pieces of their very mishandled hearts. The smiles were exchanged, hands shook with care, and the door pushed open, exposing them to the elements that brought them to the bar to begin with. It wasn’t the same as they went out into the rain, the downpour as heavy as it had been earlier but without the bitter reminder that had plagued them earlier. It carried fluidity in spite of the cold chill that the wind inspired as they neared the edge of the curb, waiting for the cab to come. The previously “handle with care” and “avoid at all cost” neon light that had been permanently affixed to Mulder and Scully was now gone, exposed as the self-imposed, invisible restraints were eliminated between them and they could look at one another knowing exactly how long, and hard, they had weathered the storm—within arm’s length of each other and no longer had to go without.

“Next time pick up a phone and call me,” Scully was on the tips of her toes again, the palm of her hand against his cheek as the rain already had them soaked all over again, creating beautiful, shimmering lines down their skin along the curves of their smiles.

Mulder leaned in close, rubbing her neck with his thumbs, closing the gap between them. “Next time isn’t needed, I’ll be right where I want to be…right there with you.”

There was no going back as Mulder drew Scully’s lips to his, tilting into another kiss that took the breath away from her in a heartbeat and set off a flash of fireworks in both of their eyes before fluttering closed. Mulder’s hand tangled through Scully’s hair as it glided along the back of her neck, the warmth of his skin triggering a chain reaction of goosebumps down the expanse of her back, underneath her damp layers of clothes. The shudder reverberated against him and instigated a low, guttural groan as he held her tighter, craving more of her…needing more of her. Scully couldn’t help herself as the moan ricocheted into his mouth while her hands desperately held onto his midsection until her hands were laced together at the middle of his back, the urgency building. Their hearts, thudding in unison against one another, were set ablaze from within and reflected like gold of each droplet of rain that touched each inch of skin, multiplied by two. They had spent so long as soft light, flickering from the dark, and now were the embers, deep-burning and unquenchable in the sweetest of embrace as tongues slid past teeth, arms wrapped carefully along muscle, speeding toward the inevitable as the distant glow of headlights illuminated what had been so carefully hidden…until now.

For the curious, this bar totally exists and was featured on Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives at one point…I have not gotten to go there but I did a lot of research (photos and the like) to get the feel for the layout of this quaint little dive. It has been around since 1947 so if you’re in that area, check it out.

References Made

“Caught in the Rain” by Revis (Song)

“Creep” by Radiohead (Lyric direct mention “What the hell am I doing here?”)

Basic Instinct (Sharon Stone)

Unknown quote – “She was told to expect fireworks, but his lips set her whole heart on fire.”

#MSR #msr fanfic #shipping #fanfiction is life #fanfic #The X Files #Mulder and Scully #Romance #Post Fight the Future

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astrolutleyinlove · 5 years

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To Be Able to Choose

Pairing: Andriod!ChanxReader

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1227

A/N: Y’all Chan got me feeling things and I regret not getting into Stray Kids sooner h e l p

also suuuuuper loosely based on detroit become human lmao

Y/N listened to the protesters on the opposite side of the road from her parent’s café. They had been yelling for the past several hours about the use of androids and how they were ruining society. Every day they would stand there and complain but never really do anything besides pick fights with an android that happened to pass by, thankfully it never escalated from just yelling at them. Y/N never minded android’s being integrated into modern day life, she thought it was smart to have people, well things, do the work that humans themselves don’t like to do. The girl had been born into a life with androids walking around so she never knew life without them and she couldn’t imagine a world without the help of them. They had been just being to be prevalent in the world when she was born but she watched as they began to gain more traction, more stores would pop up selling different versions of them and they became quite the commodity to anyone who could afford one. In fact, the girls’ parents just bought one to help run the shop as they grew in age and they knew their daughter would leave on her own one day. She was already too busy with her schooling to help most of the time anyway, so it was nice to have dependable help. Chan was a very customer orientated android which called to Y/N ‘s parents as they shopped for an extra hand around the small café. He was polite and very gentlemanly to everyone who stepped in the shop, always greeting with a smile and Y/N had grown quite fond of. Chan was a popular droid in the area, females would always come in wanting to talk to him as though he was a real person, but he was great at conversation was such a gentleman to the women. His Australian accent when he spoke English was a plus too. “Okay, that will you to $3.89.” Chan’s voice broke Y/N out of her trance on the protesters, moving her eyes away from the fight about to start between a man and, what she presumed, one of the “devil’s creations” she heard them call androids before. Her eyes became fixated on the man as he conversed with a young woman, for a machine he was very animated. From the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed too, her favorite feature, his dimples whenever he smiled. It was a refreshing change to the hate outside of the walls. Chan gave the customer her drink and began to wipe down the counter, looking up to meet the girls stare. He offered a smile that she returned easily before she walked up to the counter, leaning her elbows onto it. “Do you ever get bored of working?” She asked, placing her chin on a fist. She knew the answer, but she needed a distraction. Chan stopped cleaning and set the rag he had down. “I don’t know what being bored feels like.” He answered simply. “You know when you don’t want to do something anymore.” She said, taking the abandoned rag and pulling it away from the grasping hands of the male. “I was programmed to work, it’s what I’m supposed to do.” She met his words with a sigh and hid the rag from his view. “Yeah, but you don’t have to like the things you’re supposed to do. Most people don’t I didn’t know if it would be the same with you.” The girl turned around the look out the windows of the café. The sky grew darker than it had been moments before and water droplets began to fall from the sky causing people to run under awnings and into buildings. The group of protesters ran off to her relief. “Do you enjoy school?” Chans question took Y/N by slight surprise as she turned her head to look back at him. She never expected personal questions from the android, she also never told him about her schooling, preferring not to talk about it. Almost as if he read her mind he said, “I’ve heard your parents talk about making you go to college. Do you not like it?” The girl shook her head, “It’s not that I don’t like it, but I don’t know if I really want to go. I’ve never thought college was for me.” She turned back to look outside, the rain slamming against the window created a nice background noise to cancel the awkward feeling she was beginning to have. “Maybe that’s why I’ve always been jealous of androids.” “Why would you be jealous of something that doesn’t know what it’s like to live?” He moved behind the counter and joined Y/N leaning against the counter. The pair watched the rain in a brief silence before she answered. “You’re created for a certain purpose.” She replied. “You’re supposed to do something and not know much else of it, but me, I don’t know what I want to do. It would be easier just to know for sure what I was meant to do instead of struggling to find out.” “But isn’t that the point? You have so many options to try out and figure out what you like. Is that not what makes a human a human?” She didn’t know how to respond to that, so she didn’t. She let them stare out into the now empty streets. “If anything, I think I should be jealous of you.” The girl’s eyes flicked to him, noticing their proximity was closer than she thought. Never one to be super close to guys, android or not, it still made her cheeks burn and she covered her face from view with her hair. “I don’t know why you would think that.” “Getting to pick and choose what you want, it seems to make people happy. They get the option of jobs, houses, relationships. People walk in here and tell me about their day. What they or someone else did and how it affected them. I was created to serve whoever bought me, as nice as your parents are that’s all I was made to do.” His voice became more and more sullen with each word and without thinking Y/N had placed her hand on top of his, only slightly taken aback by the warmth radiating from it. The action seemed to take him by surprise as he glanced at their hands but never moved. The touch was calming and make the boy feel a little better. “You know, for an android, you have oddly complex ideas and emotions.” She tried her best to comfort him, “In all my life I’ve never had a real discussion with any of the ones I’ve come across. None of them really talk unless when spoken to but you’re always the one to initiate any conversation. None of them emphasized any longing to be someone or something else. You’re different Chan. For some reason, I think you could make your own decisions someday.” Instantly different scenarios played out through his wired brain. While the pair both seemed to be staring out at the weather, he was playing through each scenario in his mind, but one kept standing out to him. All he wanted to do at that moment was kiss the girl next to him.

#stray kids imagine #stray kids scenarios #bang chan #bang chan imagine #skdz #skdz imagine

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mf-despair-queen · 6 years

Text

Your Name (Part 6) - Stiles Stilinski

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Characters: Stiles Stilinski/Reader

Word Count: 3,253

Summary: The girl with no name tries to save the town before the Ghost Riders appear.

Warnings: I’m hoping you will cry at ONE specific moment.

Notes: There is like... no Stiles in this. I’m so sorry. He will return in part 7.

Listen to Me (Please note you are not required to listen)

Part 5 | Part 7

Wherever you are in the world

She sat up with a start, glancing around in pure confusion.

“Stiles…” she mumbled to herself, feeling a tear slide down her cheek. The salty tears mixed with droplets of rain that hit her face, the wind blowing it to pelt her face. She was sitting at a table under an awning in the park, having stopped when the rain picked up on her way to her friend’s house.

She glanced at the date on her phone. Mid July. The day of the storm. She remembered the date so clearly because it was the day she had arranged the date for Stiles with Lydia when they were still switching. The cracks of thunder were still distant, but now they seemed to make sense.

They were the source of her inevitable demise.

“He said I can change it,” she told herself, rushing to stand from the bench. The rain around her had slowed and the wind had lessened, giving her a chance. “I’ve still got time. I-I have to get people to leave before they arrive.”

She paused, grabbing her stuff in her left hand, stopping momentarily to stare the the tightened fist of her left. She vaguely remembered his touch, the memory starting to fade for some reason - it was almost like it had never happened, or wasn’t supposed to happen. But she remember it, seeing his mouth move as he spoke. She remember the touch of the marker to her skin, Stiles’ chicken scratch ebbed against her skin. She wanted to look, but she fought the urge, keeping it locked until she needed it, feeling her thoughts slip.

“I trust you, Stiles,” she said aloud, staring up at the dark sky. “I trust you. I will always trust you. And I will see you again. I promise.”

She didn’t care that she was doused the second she left the safety of the park. She had to hurry. They were coming for her. They were coming for her friends. They were coming for her family. But, she wouldn’t let them. They weren’t there yet, so if they could get away, they would be safe from the mark of the Ghost Riders, safe from being taken by the Wild Hunt. They wouldn’t be erased from existence.

She wouldn’t be forgotten by Stiles.

She crashed through Camile’s front door, ignoring the strange look her friend’s parents sent her. They saw her dripping wet, her bag dropped to the floor with a loud klunk when she barrelled up the stairs two steps at a time, stumbling occasionally over her feet. She ran as fast as she could towards the room at the end of the hall where he two friends sat, playing some board game she didn’t care to get the name of.

“We have to go,” she told her friends. Nia and Camile glanced at her oddly, not understanding why she was winded or what the rush was. “Please, I need you help. We have to go.”

“Are you ok?” Camile hesitantly asked, standing from her bed.

She shook her head, chest heaving for air. “This storm… it’s more than just a storm.”

“You’re talking crazy again,” Nia told her, standing beside Camile. “Are you actually you right now?”

“Yes, I’m me right now!” she shouted, her friends seemingly unconvinced. “But that’s not the thing right now, alright? If we stay here, we’re going to… well, in a way, we’re going to die.”

“Eh?” the two girls let out.

“The storm. The one that’s been approaching. It’s going to ruin this town. It’s more than just a storm.” She paused, biting her lip. She knew how weird it sounded because it still sounded surreal to her. But, after what she had been through, he had to try. “It’s called the Ghost Riders of the Wild Hunt. They come by storm and take souls. That’s the storm that’s coming now.”

Nia and Camile shared a skeptical look before turning back to her. “You do realize that is the most ridiculous thing you have ever said, right?” Nia told her, frowning. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

“I’m fine! But I need you guys to believe me!” she screamed, shaking her head to hold back her tears of frustration. “Please. You have to trust me. I…”

“What?” Camile ask.

She thought back to the eerie train station she had sat in for so long, the dark atmosphere making her feel cold. Warmth only came when she heard his voice, giving her the energy to stand and the power to walk until she saw him standing there in front of the boarding sign. “Because I pretty much saw it happen.”

“You… saw it?” Nia asked slowly.

“Yes,” she mumbled to them. “Stiles told me… he told me what is coming.”

“Is this really about the storm? Or is it about Stiles?” Camile asked, staring her friend in the eye. Camile saw the steady look she held, not an ounce of lies held behind them.

“I trust Stiles, guys,” she told her two friends. “And now, I need you both to trust me. I can change it. We can change it. We still have time. But I can’t do it alone. I need your help to evacuate the town.”

She feared for a second they would brush her off, calling her crazy and idiotic for the preposterous insinuations she had come up with. She didn’t blame them. They weren’t normal explanations and they seemed completely farfetched. Why would they ever believe her? Why would they believe Stiles? This wasn’t something people would believe and she was sure her two friends would lock her in the loony bin when the storm passed.

Assuming they still existed, that is.

But, her jaw fell open when they nodded in unison. They smiled at her, grabbing their shoes from the floor. “So, what’s the plan?” Camile asked.

Her eyes filled with tears, giving them a thankful smile. “You guys are the best.”

“Thank us later if we survive this crazy storm story you concocted,” Nia laughed.

She dragged the two girls out of the house, Camile’s parents protesting before the door shut behind them. The rain had stopped for the moment only the bursts of wind making their hair fly around and their clothes billow around them.They three girls darted up the road, headed for the one place they thought could make a difference.

“The town is equipped with an emergency broadcast system in case a storm or forest fire threatens the safety of the townsfolk,” she told her friends, her steps hasty up the road. “We can use that to get people to evacuate I think.”

“Are people going to listen to us? Or to that for that matter? You know the evacuations they do are typically bullshit and no one ever truly evacuates,” Nia hummed to the other two.

“They have to listen,” she murmured to no one in particular.

“I can probably whip up something to help,” Camile said. If I can get my hand on some forest fire film that was produced by a storm, we can broadcast that in a televised evacuation announcement. If people see evidence, maybe they will listen.”

“Smart idea, but it probably won’t work. They’ll look outside and there is no evidence of the fire,” she sighed sadly.

“We could blow the power,” Nia offered. “The emergency system runs on its own generator, so blowing the power wouldn’t affect it at all. And the power station is right there. We can kill two birds with one stone. With the loss of power, people will have to listen because it could be caused by the storm. If we emphasize the severity because it managed to blow the power-”

“They’ll be more willing to leave. You guys are geniuses!” she cheered. “This is why I needed you guys.”

“What about evacuations? Not everyone can leave easily. There isn’t enough cars and some people don’t own some.”

She thought for a second before it clicked. “The school. We tell everyone to evacuate to the school. The buses there will be enough to get everyone out of here.”

“Brilliant!” Camile grinned.

“You guys realize we are breaking a shit ton of laws right now, right?” Nia laughed. The other two girls smiled and laughed with her.

“Guess we’re all criminals now!” Camile laughed. “But, if we get caught, we’ll go down together.”

“We won’t get caught,” she tried to assure her friends. The girls stood before the power station, a gate between them and the building. “Because this plan can’t fail. If it fails… this town is doomed. And I won’t let that happen.”

Just as she began to jump the gate, Camile cut in. “Because of Stiles?”

She paused, thinking about the nerdy spazz. She shook her head though. “No. Because I will save as many as I can before they have to suffer that fate.”

“Alright,” Camile said, jumping the gate with her. Nia followed, the girls finding a broken window to climb in.

Nia got straight to work on the power, Camile taking her place at the panel for the broadcast. While they were at work, she worked on grabbing the microphone, placing it in front of Camile as she flicked on the device. She glanced out the window, cheering when she started to see the lights of Prattville diminishing, going dark to the storm. It made the dark sky an ebony black, nearly unable to be contrasted from the dark land below it. She could barely make out what was happening below in her home, but she was glad.

A few streaks of lightning lit up the sky, the only source of she was given as she cheered. “You did it, Nia! Now, hit it Camile!”

“Why me? The girl mumbled, hitting the talk button after clearing her throat. A siren began to sound through the small forest town, the strong winds carrying it further, amplifying the noise. “This is the Prattville Emergency Broadcast System. A powerful storm has been coming in from the west, knocking out the power substation on the edge of town. Wind speeds of nearly seventy miles per hour have been recorded and rain has been flood parts of Ruffa Ridge and Butt Mountain. It has been determined that the storm is too dangerous for the residents of Prattville. There is danger of further, more severe outages, damages to housing, and potential fires and floods. Residents please evacuate in a calm and orderly fashion to Prattville High School. I repeat, please evacuate in an calm and orderly fashion to Prattville High School for full town emergency evac.”

Camile clicked off the microphone, leaving the siren running. Standing from the chair, Camile was tackled by her friend. The girl was bouncing up and down, shaking Camile wildly. “That was so good!”

“Alright, alright,” Camile laughed, shaking her off. “I know I’m awesome, but we can discuss that later. Let’s get out of here before someone shows up and realizes it wasn’t a real broadcast and tries to arrest us.”

“Fine, fine,” she groaned. Nia walked over the them, hands in her pockets.

“What now?” she asked her two friends. The girl bit at her lip, thinking about what to do. She wasn’t sure if their plan worked or not. Their time was already thin. She didn’t know what to do. If they headed straight for the school and no one had listened to them, this was all in vain. But, they couldn’t very well run around the entire town pounding on doors to make sure people had left. That would make their efforts even more pointless.

Her phone rang, the girl’s brow furrowing when she saw her mother calling. She mumbled for her friends to hold on, answering the call. “Mom?”

“Honey, where are you?” her mom questioned. She felt sweaty, hating the lie she was about to blurt out like nothing.

“I went to hang with Camile and Nia. We were playing some card games when the power went out,” she mumbled.

“So you heard the emergency evacuation?”

“Yes, we did. We are getting ready to go right now. Are you and papa heading to the school?” she asked, unintentionally crossing her fingers and toes, praying for the answer she wanted.

“Yes, we are. Everyone is already headed for the school. Get there soon, sweetheart. I love you.”

She couldn’t stop from grinning, fist pumping the air - a very Stiles-like move that he would be proud of. “Of course, mom. I love you too. Try to help people if they need it, alright? I will see you soon.”

“Be careful, baby girl.”

The girl cheered vocally when she ended the call. “They’re evacuating!”

“It worked?” Nia and Camile asked, mirroring the joyful expression on the girl’s face.

“Yes!”

“So, do we head for the school?” Nia asked.

“What if we split up?” Camile proposed. “From here, there are three paths that lead to the school. We can just do a quick check to see if anyone is left behind on our way.”

“But the path along the lake-” Nia started.

“It’s longer than the rest,” Camile finished.

“I’ll do it,” the girl said confidently. “I can run it faster than you guys. I can do it. You guys get to the school and get everyone on those buses. Just, don’t leave without me.”

“We would never,” Nia laughed. “But, are you sure about this?”

“We don’t have time to waste,” Camile said. She turned to the girl, giving a firm stare. “Go. We’ll see you there.”

The girl nodded, her look full of determination. She climbed out of the same broken window and before, rushing down the windy, winding road. Occasional pellets of rain hit her skin, but her body pushed on without a single care in the world.

But the longer she ran, the further she advanced, her mind felt fuzzy. Her legs pumped on, yet she began to wonder why she was running so quickly and so heavily through the barren streets of her home. There was no signs of life around her, the world bubbling around her in vague confusion.

Why am I running? She asked herself, pushing on without knowing why. What was the reason I was doing this? There was a reason I was doing this. But, why? Why? Tears brimmed in the corners of her eyes, trying to remember why. A blurred face flashed in her mind when she blinked, making her heart ache.

It was for him. Someone dear to me. Stiles. I told him I would come back to him. I wanted to go back to him. I need to get back to him!

Her heart was beating in her ears as she ran, more tears welling in her eyes. She couldn’t remember, no matter what she did. The only thing she could do was think of Stiles, not knowing what was coming or why it was so important to get out of there. Something was coming, but what? Her mind was blank, but her body didn’t stop, pushing on like her life depended on it.

A streak of lightning filled the sky, making her look up at the cloudy sky. A crack of thunder boomed, ringing in her ears almost like a neigh of a horse. Her blood ran cold, knowing her time was pretty much up. She didn’t have much longer. “They’re here,” she found herself mumbling, feeling whatever was coming oozing their presence into the outskirts of town behind her It made her shiver, fear striking her like a chord. She had to get out before they found her, whoever they were.

A loud shriek hovered in the air, the girl tripping over a crack in the road. She gasped in pain, landing on her side and rolling down the hill quite a few feet. Fresh scratches and bruises were already forming on her body when she went skidding across the graveled road, coming to a rest in a loud thud. Her body screamed at her, muscles aching from the strenuous running and the fall she found herself in the middle of. Her head hurt, black dots in her eyes. The world was spinning, slowing coming back into focus. She laid on her left side, letting her body rest for a moment, letting her mind clear and her dizziness to subside.

Her eyes blinked open, the dots beginning to clear for a sight of red on her right wrist. Her hand was still closed tightly. Her eyes closed to try and remember, seeing Stiles standing in front of her with a marker in hand, giving the same caring smile she had come to know growing up. It was lopsided, his glistening pearly whites seen through the crack in his lips. His lips parted, but the words came out clear this time.

“Leave a message. So, when we wake up, we won’t forget what happened. I can’t guarantee what will happen when we leave this place, so, do not forget, leave a message telling us what we have to do or just something you want us to know.”

“What should I write?” she said to no one but herself. Stiles leaned forward, pushing her wet hair back behind her ear. The touch of his fingers felt real, warming her body completely. It was soft and gentle, a touch she could never forget. She wanted to feel it forward.

“Something that will make me remember you. Something like your name.” It felt like he was holding her hand, words ringing louder in ehr ears than the booms in the sky that were nearing her slowly, clinking footsteps hidden behind them. “Something that will make you remember why I need you need to come back to me.”

She wasn’t sure if it was real or her imagination. She needed to know why she was pushing so hard. She needed to remember what was after her that was driving her this insane. She needed to know what was making her work her hardest, giving one-hundred and ten percent to get back to him.

Slowly, her hand opened, her eyes welling with tears at the words.

I Love You

She stood to her feet, swaying on unsteady feet, but her gaze remained blurred on her hand. A gasp of pain escaped her mouth, feeling streams of the water works sliding down her cheeks and falling to the ground.

“Stiles,” she gasped out through her cries, her hand shaking. “How am I supposed to know what I am doing and what is after us with this?” her hand closed, held close to her as she broke down into muffled sobs. “How do I know why I’m coming back to you besides to give you this bracelet?”

“Because I love you. And I need you to come back to me.”

Were they real or did she conjure his words and voice to push her on? She didn’t know, nor did she care. Her heart skipped a beat, body flooded with sudden adrenaline, feet beginning to carry her forward once again. She was bolting down the road towards the school, a newfound determination to get there. She saw the school coming into her view, a cold chill following behind her.

“I will come back to you, Stiles,” she told herself, hoping somehow, somewhere, he would hear. “Because I know why I am. And I won’t let you down. I will succeed.”

“I will see you soon, Stiles.”

I'll search for you.

Your Name Tags: @r0s3mm; @cas-loves-pizza; @sunflowergrrrl

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